⭒ ❪ ⩇⩇:⩇⩇ ❫ ﹕ a random idiot bangs your door with a ball, claiming he's just doing a trend—but your boyfriend is there and he's not pleased.
𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 college au. f!reader. no warnings besides the boys threatening the idiots disturbing your peace ノ1,510 words
₍^. .^₎⟆ ﹕ i'm gonna be honest.... i didn't know about this trend (just like idk about anything on tiktok) and it was kinda hard to write, but here we are! requested!
RORONOA ZORO
you were rearranging the dorm while zoro helped—or, well, helped with his muscles more than his brain.
nami was out with her girlfriend for the day, leaving you free to clean and decorate in peace. at least, that was the plan.
hours passed between you giving orders and zoro pretending not to roll his eyes. every time you told him to move something, he’d lift it like it weighed nothing, muttering under his breath. and when you told him to be careful, he smirked—“you worry too much.”
eventually, after too many “don’t scratch the floor”s and “that doesn’t go there”s, he decided he’d had enough. you barely had time to squeak before he’d grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into the shower with him—his version of shutting you up.
now, with everything finally done, the dorm smelled faintly of soap and fabric softener. you were tucked into bed, movie flickering softly on the laptop, zoro half-asleep against you. one arm firmly around your waist, head buried against your chest, his breathing slow and steady—the kind of quiet that makes even your heartbeat feel too loud.
then—thump. loud, sharp. shattering your perfectly built peace.
you sighed, pushing zoro’s arm away, dragging the blanket off, and stomping to the door. you didn’t even think—you just opened it, already mid-glare.
a guy stood there holding a football, grin too smooth to be real. his friend beside him had a phone out, recording.
“uh, are you ladies alright?” he asked, voice dripping with fake charm. you could tell he had practiced this smooth tone for a while, but still failed.
you crossed your arms. didn’t even bother answering—just stared, unimpressed. from head to toe.
then zoro appeared behind you, shirtless, hair messy, eyes dark and sharp like a blade. the air seemed to drop a few degrees.
“uh—hey man, i didn’t mean to disturb. it’s just a trend,” the guy stuttered, taking a step back.
“a trend,” zoro said flatly, voice low, “that nearly broke the door?”
“we were just having fun—”
“take your fun somewhere else before i shove that ball so far in your ass you’ll taste it,” he cut in, tone calm but deadly.
the two boys froze, mumbled a terrified “sorry,” and bolted down the hall.
zoro slammed the door shut, muttering something under his breath before scooping you up and tossing you back on the bed.
“the fuck those idiots think they are,” he grumbled, burying his face in your chest again and unpausing the movie like nothing happened.
you blinked, then started laughing—that low, amused kind that only made him hum sleepily against you. zoro really did hate when people disturbed his naps. especially with you.
and of course, the video went viral on campus—captioned: “just wanted to make a trend, ended up receiving a death threat.”
comments:
— user girl opened that door like she was about to tax their souls 😭
— user her face alone said “you picked the wrong dorm today.”
— user zoro coming out looking like the final boss 💀💀💀
— user next trend idea: letting the mosshead shove that ball
— user not her man appearing half-naked like a summoned demon of rage 😭🔥
— user zoro and his girl waking up and choosing violence every day man
TRAFALGAR D. WATER LAW
you’d been buried in books for hours. papers scattered everywhere, notes highlighted to death, coffee cup long empty. you were so deep into your studying you barely noticed law leaning against the doorway, quietly watching you like he was calculating how much longer you could last before passing out.
“you haven’t moved in three hours,” he finally said, voice low.
“i’m fine,” you muttered, eyes glued to your notes.
he didn’t answer—just walked over, plucked the pen from your hand, and shut the book. “no, you’re not.”
you gave him a weak glare, but before you could argue, he was already guiding you up from the chair. one hand at your back, the other tugging the blanket from the couch. it wasn’t even a discussion—just law doing what law does best: deciding for you when you wouldn’t take care of yourself.
“lie down. i’ll bring you water,” he said, tone final.
you sighed, but didn’t fight it. within minutes, you were half buried under the blanket, head resting on his thigh as he absentmindedly rubbed circles along your arm while scrolling through his phone.
the peace didn’t last long. a thump at the door made you flinch and law’s hand immediately paused.
he stood up without a word, expression unreadable, and opened the door just enough to see two guys—one holding a football, the other holding a phone.
“yo, sorry—wrong dorm, i think,” one of them said with that nervous laugh people use when they know they’re about to get in trouble.
law tilted his head slightly, eyes cool. “you think?”
the boy blinked. “we were just doing a trend, man—”
law’s tone didn’t rise, but the silence between each word cut sharper than a yell. “so your ‘trend’ is disturbing people trying to rest?”
the boy laughed again—weak, forced—until law’s gaze darkened a shade.
“take your ball,” he said, voice like ice, “and your friend. before i show you what a real disappearance looks like.”
they were gone before he even shut the door.
law exhaled quietly, locking it, then returned to you like nothing happened. you were still blinking up at him, half shocked, half impressed.
“they’re gone,” he murmured, sitting back down and brushing his thumb over your temple. “now, where were we? ah. you—resting.”
you couldn’t help a tiny laugh. “you didn’t have to threaten them.”
“i didn’t,” he replied simply, eyes flicking back to his phone. “i just explained the options.”
and of course, the video made its way online. captioned: “just wanted to make a trend… accidentally met the grim reaper.”
comments:
— user bro didn’t even raise his voice and i STILL got scared 😭
— user that “you think?” felt like a death sentence
— user i’d drop out if law ever looked at me like that 😭😭
— user why does he sound like he’s about to perform an autopsy instead of arguing 💀
— user her just standing there in the back all tired and pretty while he handles it 😭💞
PORTGAS D. ACE
you were tucked against him on the couch, half on his lap, half melting into his chest. the night outside hummed soft and quiet, the kind of peace you only ever found when ace wasn’t on the move.
he had one arm slung lazily around your waist, fingers tracing random shapes against your side. every few seconds, he’d press a kiss somewhere—your temple, your jaw, the corner of your mouth—like he couldn’t go too long without touching you.
“you good there, sweetheart?” he murmured, grinning against your skin. “’cause i could stay like this forever.”
you tilted your face up to kiss him properly. slow, a little teasing, the kind that made him smile mid-kiss, when something thumped against the door.
“the hell was that?” ace muttered, instantly alert.
you sighed, about to get up, but he was already halfway there—shirtless, hair messy, the picture of protective irritation. he yanked the door open and found two idiots: one holding a football, one recording.
“oh, sorry man! wrong door!” the guy stammered.
ace blinked, confusion melting into that crooked grin that never meant anything good. “wrong door, huh? funny how that happens after you kick it.”
“it’s just a trend, bro! no harm—”
“yeah? well, next time your ‘trend’ messes with my girl’s peace, i’ll make you go viral,” ace said with a laugh, easy, playful, but the kind that made you wonder if he was serious. (he was.)
the boys didn’t wait to find out. they muttered a rushed apology and bolted down the hall.
ace shut the door, shaking his head with a grin. “kids these days,” he said, turning back to you.
you were staring at him, half amused, half exasperated. “you scared them.”
“good,” he said, flopping back beside you, tugging you against his chest again. “they deserved it for interrupting our break.”
“you mean my break that you forced?”
“same thing,” he murmured, smiling against your hair.
and of course, the video went viral—captioned: “just wanted to make a trend, but the guy who opened the door laughed like he was gonna kill me.”
comments:
— user not him smiling like a maniac the whole time
— user “funny how that happens after you kick it” is CRAZY 😭
— user the way she just stood there behind him all cozy while he handled it ❤️
— user that laugh said ‘i will commit arson for love’ 😭🔥
— user imagine getting death-threatened by a guy who still looks like sunshine
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itoshi sae x bubbly reporter! reader 𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚
Itoshi Sae thinks you’re annoying. That’s what you have come to believe anyway.
Being a new, young sports reporter who’s still green behind the ears wasn’t half as easy as some may think. But you didn’t join because you wanted it to be, you joined because it had always been a point of intrigue to know what someone was thinking when playing the game of a lifetime.
And to your surprise, it was going far better than you had initially thought. Because with the grace of tiktok and a sense of humour the internet came to love you, which meant your dreams weren’t just dreams, they were reality.
Clips of interviews went viral, and your follower count on tiktok hit a gleaming 700k within the few months since you graduated university and officially ran head first into working.
But that wasn’t even the most astounding part about your new life, what truly was astonishing to you was how the athletes came to like you to; and you were sure that was, in part, why their fans came to love you as well.
You didn’t question them as machines meant to entertain, you questioned them as humans. And that recognition of one’s humility is all it takes for it to be returned.
For everyone but one man.
Itoshi Sae.
Most athletes you interview genuinely enjoy the brief chats, laughing and joking along with you, keeping a lighthearted and entertaining conversation for fans. Except for Sae.
Itoshi Sae never laughed at your jokes, never cracked a smile, and never seemed to purposely return a joke. Even as you tried to laugh with him after his blunt sarcasm it was never returned.
So to say you felt a slight pit of anxiety whenever your boss told you to ask him for an interview after a match, would be an understatement.
Trying to slip your way through the crowd came as a slight challenge, though as your own popularity arose it had gradually became a bit easier. People recognized you, people respected you and that was more than enough.
It wasn’t too hard to find the coral locks along the crowd, Itoshi Sae with his bag strewn over his shoulder as he stepped through the lobby with his usual mask of nonchalance.
He never flinched at the cameras even as the bright lights flashed over his strong features, highlighting the bright teal of his burning gaze when it met yours.
Sae hated interviews, he hated talking to reports and paparazzi. Yet when he saw you amongst the crowd, two microphones resting between your tapping fingers with a smile on your lips, for whatever reason he didn’t turn to ignore you. He allowed himself to push forward despite his usual reservations, just enough to see if you’d stop him.
“Itoshi!”
His mind reeled, but he didn’t let it show as he turned to you casually—acting as though hearing his name from your lips brought an ease to his mind.
“What?”
Cold, to no one’s surprise. But you smiled all the same, warmly.
“I was um— I was wondering if I could get a quick interview, if you have time?” A nervous stammer, a hand moving to quickly push a hair from your face as you faced him. You’d interviewed him twice before, but it was enough to make you jittery.
You expected a scoff, or maybe just a silent departure. But instead, he nodded, stepping towards you as you stood stunned for a moment before your smile illuminated and you handed him one of the mics in your hand; waving over your camera man.
Did Sae always stare this intensely? Did he do that to all the interviewers? Or was he just trying to pick you apart?
“Hello everyone! Today I am joined with the one, and not the only Itoshi, Itoshi Sae!” You quickly greeted the camera before motioning to Sae who didn’t pull his eyes away from you even as you introduced him to the camera that shot live.
“That was a very intense match against Brazil, you played amazing by the way, as always.” You complimented, meeting his weighted stare as he blinked down at you silently.
Amazing start, you cleared your throat—unfaltering. “You know I’ve always wondered what you think about when you make those plays, does it come to you naturally or is there a lot of calculations involved?”
Silence stretched for a moment, before Sae adjusted his hand on his bag unconsciously.
“skill.”
“Oh, well you definitely have a lot of that!” You tried to joke, laughing as Sae just stared.
and stared.
and stared.
“Well! I do hear that you’ve been playing for a while so I’m sure it’s all pretty much engrained by now, huh?”
Sae nodded, stare unwavering. “Flow state.”
“Oh like the meme.”
His brows furrowed slightly, “What?”
“Like the tiktok..meme, like entering flow state?”
“Yeah, flow state.” You smiled, though it was almost glaringly obvious that the two of you were not on the same angle.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you too long in case you’ve got a big celebration plan but I just have a few more questions if you don’t mind, that’s my version of ‘flow’”
“You don’t have to rush.”
He, to your surprise, reassured. You faltered for a moment, biting hack the way your smile threatened to widen enough to make your cheeks burn. “Thank you, that is very kind of you.”
The interview carried on for a another five minutes, and it all came with the same ‘flow’ as it had began. You smile, he stares. You laugh, he stares.
“Okay! Well thank you so much for speaking with me, and putting up with my horrible soccer jokes. But don’t worry, I’ll let you run away now!” You laughed off, turning to the camera. “Sae here is going to be playing again in three weeks in this same arena, so make sure to score a seat..get it? score a..yeah you got it.”
Your hands pulled into your signature peace sign to depart and end the interview, waving your two propped fingers to the camera when Sae mimicked your action. His fingers raised, and though his lips didn’t, it was enough.
The interview went tripple platinum.
As it turns out, fans love Itoshi Sae, and they love you too. Combine the two of you and they’re sufficiently fed, maybe.
GOJOSHOLLOWPURPL6767: DID YOU SEE HOW HE LOOKED AT HER? UGHHH
ITOSHIGOBBLER literally grumpy x sunshine ughh i love then
THUKUNA ao3 writers get to work NOW
> ALLIEMALLIEA already on it 🫡
POPECODYLUVR WHEN HE COPIED HER PEACE SIGN? HE WANTS THAT COOKIE BADDD
SAEMUNCHER it’s the fact he never does interviews but has done three with her, Sae I know what you are
itoshi.sae has followed you
itoshi.sae sent you a message:your soccer jokes were funny.
Summary: Leon takes you to his place after you get an extreme fever at work and over the weekend, he nurses you back to full health. However, there's a consistent underlying problem that takes the form of a golden liquid.
part 5 of this
The nurses said you would be fine if you went home and rested over the weekend, but if it got any worse, immediately to go to the hospital due to the possible risk of it being an infection.
“C’mon, just one foot in front of the other, you’ve got this,” Leon reassured you as he had your arm slung over his shoulder, and his hand firmly steady on your waist. If someone looked from afar without context, it would look like you were a total drunk.
“I’m trying,” you mumbled, your voice whining. Every step you took made the world crash and blur, a sickening pulse in your head.
“You know what,” Leon sighed and bent his knees, one arm scooped the back of your knees and the other scooping up your back, “this is easier.”
You leaned your head against his chest, unable to find the energy to protest to this. His chest was warm and firm, his shirt smelling of laundry detergent. It was hard to imagine him slaughtering infected in his usual violent, apathetic way when he was holding you so gently.
He struggled to open the car door with you in his arms, but he managed to do it anyway. He slid you into the passenger seat and as your head lolled to the side, he clipped you into the seatbelt.
Something made him pause just to look at you for a second, not really to admire but to reflect on his life choices.
You pressed your head against the cold of the window for just some sort of relief, squeezing your eyes shut. In your dizzied state, you watched him walk around to the other side of the car and place himself in the driver’s seat with a huff. He secured himself in and placed his hand on the steering wheel before turning his head in your direction.
“Are you still sure that you don’t want me to take you home?” he asked, looking at your slumped posture, his hair messily out of place. You despised how stressed you were making him.
“Don’t take me home-” your phone rang. Your head hurt too badly to even want to look at the bright screen, but the words ‘Mom’ pierced through your eyes, and you saw the 7 missed calls and the other 10 threatening messages that she sent you.
It was enough to snap you out of your delirium.
Eyes widening, your phone slipped from your hands, and you shook Leon’s arm.
“I forgot about- fuck I forgot about dinner. Leon, you have to take me to my parents’ house,” you pleaded, hoping that you could just miraculously bottle the fever up.
“Are you insane?”
“Leon,” you stared at him with all the determination in the world despite your eyelids slowly sliding downwards and your head swaying a little, “Leon.”
“Yes?”
Your eyes eventually closed and your head fell back onto the headrest.
He tutted, turning the engine on, “You are certainly not going to dinner.”
And that’s how you ended up in your boss’s guest room bed.
You woke up in a sweat, nausea now clambering in your stomach and uncontrollable shivers shooting through your body. A little lost to where you were, your eyes scanned around the room, because the ceiling definitely wasn’t yours.
It smelt familiar, like coffee and leather. A scent that belonged in the office. In Leon’s office.
“Leon?” you mumbled out, pushing yourself upwards with your elbows. You were still in your office clothes from yesterday, but your heels had been slipped off, and a cold cloth was pressed on your forehead. At the end of the bed was clean, fresh clothes.
Slumped in a chair next to your bed was Leon. His face was softer when he slept, holding a youthful look to it as the usual tense knot in his face had loosened. You always wondered what his resting face looked like after seeing the pure adrenaline, predator scowl he had etched into his face.
The room held plain, cream-coloured walls with long windows from the ceiling to the floor that looked over a forest. The curtains cast ripples on the carpet as a window was left open to keep fresh air channelling through the room.
However, as soon as his name slipped from your mouth, he stirred immediately. His eyes shot open and his posture snapped into shape. He was still wearing the same navy suit from yesterday, just a few buttons undone at the top and his hair was dishevelled like he had run his hand through it a hundred times.
“Hey,” he said softly, “take it easy.”
He carefully removed the cloth from your forehead and pressed the back of his hand against your forehead.
“Better than yesterday.”
You weren’t sure if he was talking to himself or you.
“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” you croaked, pushing his hand away and slipping your feet out of the duvet to stand up.
“What are you doing?” he questioned sternly, the crease in his eyebrow deepening.
“Am I not allowed to get up…?” you stared at him, your eyes cringing at the bright light that slipped through the curtains and shone blindingly around Leon’s figure. From your point of view, he looked like an angel.
Sweat still clung to your face, a heat itching at your cheeks.
“You need rest,” his deep voice smoothed the throbbing bumps of your mind.
“I’ve rested.”
“You passed out. There’s a difference. You’re still hot and sick,” he said as he patted the damp cloth on your face, gently moving aside the hair that was stuck to your face.
You flopped back onto the bed, “you suck as a doctor.”
He let out a hum as he pushed a glass of water into your hands, and then two pills in the other.
“Drink,” he demanded, his eyes flicking to his watch and then back at you.
“Still bossy.”
“Funny that, because I’m your boss,” he said it with a small laugh, but then his expression flickered into something with regret.
The words floated awkwardly in the room like they didn’t belong there.
Because they were true, but also weirdly false at the same time.
He is your boss, but the typical boundaries of an employee and their boss had been totally blurred by the two of you.
Bosses didn’t sleep in a ridiculously uncomfortable chair all night and keep their employee in their guest room to look after them.
“What’s the time?” you asked, wiping the water on your lips with your sleeve.
“Four pm.”
“Four?! The presentation- oh my god my parents-,” you shot up out of the bed, feeling your chest twist in that unpleasant way all over again, pain coming in waves of sharp volts.
“Hey-“ he grabbed you before you toppled over.
“No- I forgot about dinner with my parents; I needed to be there- where is my phone?! And head office! I don’t have the presentation I won’t be able to present it-,” your head frantically turned left and right, your wrists still being held by Leon’s hand.
“You were unconscious,” he said monotonously.
“Where’s my phone?”
“You passed out mid-sentence in my car,” he continued in the same, slightly frustrated tone.
“I need to call them.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he declared.
“Leon,” you head snapped to him, tilting your head a little to give him puppy-eyes.
He sighed, letting go of your wrists, “your phone is right here. On the bedside.”
You picked it up and stared at the phone screen. 10 missed calls. 13 messages. Your eye twitched, a dread taking root in your body.
“I’m done for. She’s going to skin me alive and serve me as a meal for her next dinner!”
“I think that’s slightly excessive.”
“You clearly haven’t met my mother.”
Your phone began to buzz. Your fingers were shaking. For the first time, you felt like you couldn’t deal with anything, which was strange, because you always dealt with everything no matter the condition you were in. Stopping was never allowed.
“I- I can’t do it.”
“Then you don’t. Focus on resting,” he said, holding up the duvet so you could slide back under it. He said it so effortlessly, like resting was just second nature to him. You hesitantly laid your back onto the mattress, letting him fuss over you. “Sherry stopped by and dropped some clean clothes off for you,”
You hummed something unintelligible deliriously as exhaustion crashed over you, the softness of the pillows catalysing this.
He sat in his chair and paused on your face before standing up.
“I’m gonna get some coffee.”
“Leon,” you reached out and grabbed his hand, and his head snapped back to you, your pleading eyes staring back into his icy ones, “don’t leave.”
He stilled, but placed himself back on the seat, watching your face instantly relax as you succumbed to exhaustion, as if it was his presence that let you fall asleep.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled to himself, rubbing his mouth. But his thumb was absently rubbing gentle circles into your palm.
He tried to imagine the DSO without you, and suddenly all the color was drained from it. Your withdrawal from him, the resignation letter, the collapse in the elevator – it all scared him in ways he didn’t think was possible. This wasn’t him. He was used to dealing with fear on the field but losing you would be a type of fear that wouldn’t let him get out of bed without a struggle.
You looked smaller when you slept. Less guarded, like you were no longer waiting for someone’s criticism. The usual determination that sat in your expression was softened by exhaustion.
You trusted him enough to fall asleep like this. In his house, holding his hand.
He couldn’t mess this up.
When you woke up, the soft glistening glow of the moon swept through the curtains. Leon was sat at the bed, his reading glasses reflecting the glow of the laptop that was on his lap. His suit jacket was draping over the chair; he was only in his button up shirt. His collar hung lazily around his neck and his sleeves were rolled up. Veins on his forearms were dimly lit by the lamp on the desk, and they tensed every few seconds when his eyebrows furrowed deeply.
Your fingers were loosely clinging around his hand, while his other hand was scrolling through emails. He clearly hadn’t moved it since you fell asleep.
“Hi,” you said awkwardly as you pushed yourself up, your hand letting go of his, embarrassed.
“Hi,” he said back, just as awkwardly. “Not to suck but I got an email from Head Office.”
“W-What did it say?” you stuttered, every possible scenario rushing through your head, studying his face for any hint of disappointment.
“That you and I need to come in on Monday to discuss your position at the DSO,” he replied, predicting what you were going to say next, “you’re not getting fired.”
“How do you know?” you said instantly, ready to shoot him with another million questions.
“Because you’re my assistant. I’m not letting it happen,” he shook his head, then shut his laptop and stood up, quickly shutting down any possible idea of you not being in his office. “Would you like me to run you a bath?”
A subtle blush crept onto your cheeks. Was he crazy? Or were you crazy? You had to both be crazy.
You nodded, feeling like the shy assistant that walked into his office for the first time.
He petted your head, then he quickly retracted his hand, regretting what he just did, and disappeared into the ensuite, the sound of water splashing into the tub echoing around the room.
A small exhale left your nose as the corners of your mouth curved upwards, finding his awkwardness slightly endearing.
You began to explore his apartment as he fussed around your bath.
It seemed that his leather jacket collection extended into his home, because they were all neatly hanging up in a dark oak closet by the entrance. There was a brown battered one with a cream-colored fur snugly attached to the collar, a black one with two grey stripes circling the sleeves and another black one with an exaggerated collar that had an even fluffier fur.
It was strange that none of his usual weapons were visible, even though he typically showed them off to you before missions with a toothy grin. But this thought was quickly shut down after you opened a door to a room that had guns displayed on walls from ceiling to floor like paintings. Axes and knives and many other weapons that you couldn’t even name were all hanging there, polished and sparkling. There was gym equipment set up- too many weights on that pole, you thought. You decided it was best to keep that door closed.
He had a very clean alcohol cabinet with fancy bottles, some in languages you couldn’t even begin to read. Most of them were almost empty.
You came across picture frames, photos of him with Sherry and a woman in a red leather jacket. Another photo of him with a different blond woman, he was different here. Blonder, not a hint of a wrinkle or a grey hair. None of the frames matched with the rest of the decorum in his house- these must’ve been gifts.
The silver clock ticked away in the background.
A record player was neatly tucked in the corner, with shelves stacked full of vinyls. Your fingers flicked through all the different albums, ranging from 70s to 90s. There was The Police, Alice In Chains, Nirvana, Violent Femmes, Rage Against The Machine, Screaming Trees and many, many more. You snickered when you found Duran Duran. Rolled your eyes when you found Radiohead.
There was a lace of coldness that draped over the apartment. The pillows weren’t worn, the kitchen looked far too clean, there was no dents in the furniture or stains – nothing that signalled the presence of someone. Everything was in perfect (expensive) condition, apart from the dead plants in the corner.
He was haunting his own apartment.
“Baths ready.” He was dressed out of his office wear, and in grey sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt. Your eyes widened like you had seen him naked. You had never seen anyone wear casual things. When you lived with your parents, they expected nothing less of you. It was either on your best form or don’t be here at all.
“Uh- thanks- thank you,” you stammered, walking past him rapidly so you didn’t have with bear with your awkwardness any longer.
You clicked the door behind you and leant your back against it, pressing a hand to your face.
Your face was warm and you couldn’t tell if it was the fever or something else.
Steam swirled from the bath; he had almost filled it to the brim.
You peeled your office clothes from your body and lowered yourself into the bath and a quiet sigh escaped from your throat.
There was an assortment of soaps that had been placed on the side. Again, they were all in different languages, seemingly different soaps from all the hotels he stayed at on his international missions. It felt weird to look at these, it was all a life he had before he met you, you felt like a stranger despite spending so much time with him.
A heat crawled up your neck as you thought about the way he never let go of your hand and imagining him carrying you into your apartment. You sank lower into the bath. He had seen you at your most disgusting, raw and worst yet he was running you a bath and making you dinner in the kitchen.
You tried your hardest to remember what happened in the elevator.
The rough sensation of his stubble, his hands holding you and his panicked face quickly flooded back, and it was enough to send you into a flustered coma.
You were sat at his kitchen island, on those long stools, with your hair twisted in a towel and wearing the pyjamas that Sherry left, a very nice baby-blue matching set.
“Food.” He placed a plate of pasta in front of you.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to… do all of this for me,” you thanked him, grabbing your fork and refusing eye contact with him.
“Well, I didn’t really have a choice when you passed out in my car. I couldn’t leave you alone like that. You need to stop running yourself into the ground, it doesn’t help anyone.”
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, staring at the pasta in front of you.
“Hey, don’t apologise,” he said softer, his voice deepening, “Your only job right now is to get better.”
Both of you went quiet; the ticking of the clock and your fork clunking against the plate were heard. He then poured himself a drink, whiskey. There was something restrained in the way he poured it though, like this was less than he usually drank.
“So, did I ruin any of your weekend plans?” you broke the silence, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Didn’t have any, luckily for you,” he said, a small laugh laced in his words, leaning against the counter.
“Leon S. Kennedy doesn’t have any weekend plans?”
“You sound surprised,” he crossed his arms.
“Yeah, you know, I’d be thinking you would be saving the world by breakfast or something.”
He huffed, “how did you know?”
“Just had a hunch,” you winked, very badly, at him. Cringing at yourself, your gaze fell down back to your plate.
You felt his burning gaze pierce right through you.
“You’re staring,” you called him out, pushing your pasta around like it personally offended you.
“Just making sure you’re eating,” he muttered, putting his arms up in surrender.
“I am eating.”
“You’re prodding at it as if I fed you worms,” he sighed, pushing your drink towards you. “Drink too.”
The two of you ended up on his couch; Leon demanded you have a blanket spread over your legs.
You sat on one end. He sat on the other.
You were watching this stupid movie; you had hardly even kept up with plot because you kept drifting off to sleep and you didn’t know why but you felt like every time you opened your eyes, Leon had shifted himself closer to you.
You noticed his sleepy state, his half-open eyes reflecting the blare of the television. His hair looked so soft you just wanted to run your fingers along it over and over again until they were numb from the feeling. His fingers held loosely around his glass containing a little amount of that golden liquid.
It wasn’t fair that you collapsed in the elevator. You wanted to take care of him too. Just because he was better at keeping himself together didn’t mean he wasn’t as equally exhausted as you were.
He had been lapping up his whiskey all summer like a dehydrated plant, and it was often he stayed longer hours than you did. Once you caught sight of a long scar across his abdomen when he was getting patched up after a mission that involved many losses. It was hard to fathom how he coped with it all, but the answer was clearly staring right back at you from his glass.
Now you were worried that you added even more stress onto his conscience. He already had to deal with so much and now collapsing on him in the elevator felt selfish and stupid.
“Leon,” you whispered.
“Yes,” he whispered back, his eyes still glued to the screen, but he tilted his body towards you subtly.
“Did I scare you?”
His fingers stopped rubbing his glass.
“A little,” he admitted, not telling you that he would’ve literally torn the whole DSO building down to make sure you were okay.
Your stomach twisted with guilt.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t have to stay with me all day.”
“Yes I did,” he said firmly, his face finally turning towards you with a small smile. The same reassuring look he gave you when you told him you were nervous on your first day as his assistant.
Silence settled between you again.
Your eyelids felt heavier with every passing second and so did your head as it tipped to the side and then rested against something solid and warm. You stilled. He froze.
Your head was resting against his shoulder.
Heat shot through your face, and you pulled your head away immediately, “Sorry-”
“It’s fine.” He said quickly, extremely quick in fact. You paused. Everything in you craved to rest your head back on him, to feel safe next to him and to know that this actually means something to him.
You always held yourself back from getting the things you wanted because your mind restricted everything you did. You were a coward. The fear of being rejected had pulled you around on strings for so long, you felt childish.
So, you slowly leaned back again with more care. He didn’t move or shift away. His body relaxed slightly under the weight. Neither of you said anything. He only pulled over the blanket for it to cover his legs too.
Eventually, your breathing slowed as your body subconsciously shifted itself closer to him. He glanced down, muttered “Unbelievable.” and turned down the volume of the television before stretching his arm around you.
Sunday morning came quickly, and you were pleasantly woken by the sound of something sizzling. There was a dip in the sofa where Leon was resting, and now you could hear his humming from the kitchen. It felt odd to not immediately open your laptop or start reading through files, but just this once you allowed and embraced the absence of it.
“Morning,” you croaked, rubbing your eyes and placing yourself on one of the stools.
“Morning. Feeling better?” he asked, pushing a glass of water to you and then returning to the eggs that were frying and bubbling in the pan. It annoyed you how the morning seemingly didn’t affect Leon in the same way it affected you.
“Yeah… I do,” you realised that the pounding, stuffy feeling in your mind had disappeared, but wrecked your body in the meantime, because everything ached. He leaned over the island and pressed the back of his hand against your forehead.
“I swear if you do that one more time-” you swatted his hand away.
“You look better.”
“Wow. Thank you, Doctor Kennedy,” you rolled your eyes, “Seems like you’re chef Kennedy too. What’s for breakfast?”
He wanted to say that you had a lot of sass for someone who could hardly form a sentence when they first interacted with him. But he decided to keep his mouth shut. Minus the teasing, he felt strangely proud, and happy even that he made you comfortable enough to laugh and tease him in his own home.
“Eggs on toast,” he then felt the presence of your stare. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
A huge smile was stretching across your face, your eyes reflecting the morning light. His cheeks felt warm.
“It’s funny.”
“How?” he questioned, genuinely confused, shaking his head as if he could shake the blush off his cheeks.
“Well, when I first joined the DSO everyone said you were scary. And now you’re cooking breakfast for me,” you explained, gesturing at him as he held a spatula.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” he muttered, turning back to the eggs with a smirk tugging on his lips.
“You were even humming!”
“Drop it,” he grumbled, buttering your toast.
“Kennedy is cooking and humming for me!”
“Quit it or I’m revoking breakfast privileges,” he threatened as he placed the eggs on top of your toast and sliding the plate over to you. “There’s salt and pepper on the side if you want it.”
You grinned and took a bite.
It was a quiet ride home, you were still in your pyjamas embarrassingly, but Leon lent you his hoodie to ‘help’. The radio blurred into the background as long, towering trees passed you by.
“Tomorrow’s gonna be fun,” you sighed, your hands fiddling on your lap, his sleeves so big only your fingers points through them. Dread felt heavy on your chest already.
He hummed in agreement, “it’ll be fine though.”
Leon always had a great habit of reassuring people even when he wasn’t even sure of the outcome himself.
“What about the possibility of me being fired?”
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
“You’re not getting fired, how many times do I need to say this?”
“But how do you even know that?” you turned to him, your eyes desperately searching for reassurance in his.
“You’re my assistant.”
You huffed, sinking further into your seat.
“Like that’s a good argument.”
“It is to me,” he said, seemingly calm. He smiled a little, proud of his answer.
He stopped outside your house, your sprinklers showering the colorful tulips that sat sweetly in pots.
“Thank you, Leon. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you thanked him, and then paused, your hand hovering over the handle.
You had far too many impulsive thoughts that weekend.
He was looking at you patiently, like if you wanted to stay in his car and do absolutely nothing, he would let you.
You had paused too long to not say something now. But what do you even say? Thank you again?
His head tilted, “You okay?”
“Yeah- I, uhm.”
Maybe you should wave. but people don’t wave inside of cars.
He took care of you all weekend, cooking, running you a bath, just making sure you were okay. And you were just going to thank him and leave?
But you didn’t owe him anything. Not like that. Don’t be a disgusting perv.
Your brain settled on leaning over and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before your consistent anxiety could stop it.
And by the time his brain had caught up, you were already scrambling and running into your house before either of you could confront the feelings that had intensified over the weekend.
Note: That was probably the longest chapter so far, and I deleted a whole scene so it took me way longer than expected. This was definitely a struggle to write but I hope you guys enjoyed it... I'm kind of worried about my writing becoming sloppier and repetitive so the next chapter might take longer to ensure only the highest quality!!, we will see. Thank you so much for reading this series has totally changed my blog, I'm having so much fun interacting with you all!! Also I did make myself laugh when I made a salt and pepper reference.
i was messing around with pookie @ye-old-hermit-woman and pitched this idea…
what if there’s a whole merch empire of fictional pinups in one piece universe and we’re all characters in that series… there are posters, trading cards, illustrations, events, tons of merch for each of us…
and of course our f/os are obsessed with us, we’re their favorite pinup girl, they collect all our posters and cards and merch, even if we’re not the most popular pinup, they’re so devoted to us….
your f/o has a favorite outfit of yours, a favorite card, he carries it everywhere or keeps it safely protected in his vault, he always talks about you, his friend and family know to keep an eye out if there’s ever a special edition merch of you…
your posters and illustrations are pinned by your f/o’s bed, there are plenty of things that make him think of you…
Traveling researcher Reader who’s been to a bunch of if not all the regions. They get so excited to talking about regional or convergent pokemon or even just obscure facts most don’t know about however it only happens when provoked into talking, otherwise they’re almost eerily quiet.
On day one of the Za boys, who are used to you being quiet makes a comment about a Pokemon that just lights you up. Chatting away happily, quickly and with more volume to your voice than they’ve heard from you before. Eventually despite how much you’re enjoying yapping to them something pulls you away.
Next time you see them they make another random, maybe incorrect comment about a pokemon fact just to see you do it again.
Imagine Law asking that you put his heart in his chest…
His heart had been reclaimed. Vergo had tortured him with it. And now? Trafalgar Law had placed his literal heart into another pair of hands - yours. A pirate who had found a home with the Straw Hats and his own Heart Pirates.
Law had asked for your help to put it back into his body but, in truth, he didn’t know if you should. The practical thing to do was to make him submit while he was weak. Turn him into another puppet to serve the Straw Hats…
You raised his boxed heart up and pressed a small kiss against the centre of the clear casing.
The second that your lips touched the case, Law gasped audibly. He felt it - the love, the happiness - everything.
It sent a spark zipping through his body in the most pleasant way and suddenly Law felt an overwhelming focus to protect you at all costs.
He watched as you stepped forward with his heart. Once close enough, Law opened his coat and revealed what he had kept hidden for months. Your eyes wandered from the beating muscle in your hands to the gaping hole in his chest. Then you looked at him - speechless.
Law understood. His reaction was the same. It was the consequence of his own actions.
“Will it hurt?” You asked.
Law kept his eyes fixed on you. “Yes.”
He watched your mouth open to say something but you seemed to decide against it. He respected that you were smart enough to think before speaking.
“Forgive me.” You whispered.
Law’s eyes widened as pain ripped through his chest as his heart was lodged back in place by your gentle hands.
Thump, thump!
He hunched forward, bracing himself on you to stay upright.
Thump, thump!
Law stumbled into the wall but kept a firm hand on your shoulders.
Thump, thump!
Releasing you and clutching his chest, Law felt his insides seize up as if the muscles were stitching his body together. Then he noticed that the pain began to ebb. It melted into the way he breathed until it was painless.
He looked up and saw you standing a few paces away. Wary, concerned, like a vision. His head didn’t lead the way so Law let his heart move his feet. Two strides was all it took to scoop you into his arms and firmly plant his lips on yours.
Trusted, grateful, safe - everything that Law felt about you secretly was poured into the most fierce and passionate kiss.
His mind knocked on the door of his heart to remind the captain that you needed to breathe. And so, Law pulled back, listening to the way you gasped for air.
“Thank you.” He whispered and tilt his head to look you in the eyes. “Thank you.”
Trafalgar Law would not forget this moment. After all, you had locked a kiss into his heart. A small reminder that he had goodness in his core.
~ More One Piece imagines here ~
A/n: Surprise! One last Valentine’s hit because I’m deep in my Trafalgar Law feels.
I am a firm believer that when Ace has a s/o he won’t spare another person a moment of his time, and in the funniest way too.
In my missing Ace era
Having someone as attractive as Ace on your arm was bound to have its challenges. From freckles that mimicked the constellations glittering the night sky to muscles chiseled by the gods themselves, there’s a certain level of security required to loving Ace.
You have to know the man would never entertain another soul once entering a relationship with you. Fiercely loyal, unwavering in his adoration. His eyes search for in every corner of the world, whether you’re alongside him or not. His heart beats to the syllables of your name and swells ten times its size when you merely utter a word.
Bars were a regular occurrence for the Whitebeard pirates. When they weren’t out conquering the sea, they were engaged in parties—drinks and food and dance until the crack of dawn.
A particularly attractive woman sauntered towards Ace, clearly drunk.
“Hey, handsome, whatcha say we get out of here?”
Ace, physically unable to entertain the thought, replied in a nearly robotic voice. “My partner kills people.”
You coughed up your drink, turning towards Ace with an incredulous expression, his face remaining stoic; the man was serious as a heart attack.
The woman was taken aback. She gazed at Ace with quizzical eyes. Your man, clearly noticing she hadn’t taken the hint, turned in his chair to face you.
“Hi, hun. Gotta borrow you real quick.” He said, smiling a bright smile. But by the time he’d turned around to face the woman once more, this time with you wrapped in his arms, his expression went dark.
“I wouldn’t want to unleash the deadly force of my one true love.” Ace threatened. He held you out as though you were a kitten between his palms, air jailed.
You nodded your head in greeting, tilting your drink in the woman’s direction, “I’ve been known to kill on occasion.”
She scurried away, leaving you there In Ace’s lap. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck and feathering his face in kisses.
“You’re such a dork.” You teased. He accepted it gratefully, returning your kisses with a flurry of his own.
“Only for you.”
And my, it’s far from the first time something like that had occurred.
“Hey there,” Another woman flirtatiously approached. “Aren’t you a sight.”
She traced a manicured nail along his bicep, planting her palm against his broad chest.
“Unhand me woman, I’m married!” Ace screeched, swiping her hand away as though it burned, flashing a toy ring you’d fake proposed to him with; having won it at a fair on an island a few months back.
But Ace took your faux proposal seriously, cherishing the ring that was a size too small and glittered red in the sunlight. The only time you’d ever seen him take it off was during a fight, worried he’d somehow burn it to ashes. His shorts had a designated compartment to carry it, and once business was handled he’d frantically fumble to find it again.
The woman took the hint, thankfully, and Ace fiddled with the ring, staring at it with a small smile. The sight had reminded him of you, of the love he wore as a badge of honor.
Deciding he’d had enough for the night, Ace took his (unpaid) beverage to go, running back to the ship so he could tell you all about the ring and how it’d saved him.
But your favorite occurrence of Ace curving women was one the entire crew told stories of to this day, your boyfriend’s face flushing red every time someone dared bring it up.
Ace was drunk.
Actually, that’s an understatement, Ace was wrecked. Speech slurring and body rocking back and forth. Marco and Thatch had thought it would be the best decision for Ace to turn in for the night, the imminent hangover that would eventually ensue sure to be a whirlwind.
You agreed, letting Ace know you were gonna grab some food to go then you’d head out—the man was always starving after a night at the bar.
Ace stood in the center of the dance floor, lazily swaying to the music as his mind conjured thoughts of you. He’s an affectionate drunk, all cuddles and sloppy kisses. Marco once scoured an entire island in search of you because an intoxicated Ace was throwing a tantrum regarding your absence, body flickering in and out of flame.
Now, as he dreamt up cuddling with you beneath a mountain of sheets—takeout shared between you—he couldn’t have been happier.
That is, until someone had to go and ruin his fun.
A woman scarcely dressed swayed alongside Ace, mimicking his lazy dance moves and adding her own exaggeration. The man didn’t notice at first, far too caught up in his thoughts of you. So she shimmied closer, body a mere few feet away from Ace.
This, he noticed. Not thinking much of it, Ace scooted away. But she followed, closing the distance even more than before. Again, Ace tried to keep space between them.
But upon her third attempt, Ace panicked, not wanting to be around anyone but you for a moment longer.
Thus, the interaction he can never seem to live down:
In a high-pitched voice, Ace squealed for the entire bar to behold.
“Woman, you’re way too close, fire fist!”
A surge of fire erupted in his hand. He threw the flame down in the small space between their shoes, a plume of fire separating them. Ace was satisfied, a smile on his lips and hands triumphant upon his hips.
The entire bar erupted in boisterous laughter. Meanwhile, takeout in hand, you fought back tears of amusement.
You watched your boyfriend frantically search around, eyes finally locking onto you and scrambling to your side. His arms wrapped protectively around your waist, practically whimpering as he whined for the two of you to leave.
You hummed, shifting the food into one hand and fluffing his hair.
“You alright?”
He huffed like a child, pushing himself further into your side. “She attempted my life.”
You laughed then, a full belly sound that ached your ribs and burned your lungs. Air felt as though it were in short supply, struggling to grasp what wisps you could.
“It’s not funny!” Ace defended, still violently intoxicated, words slurred like a ship on the sea. “I was defending our love!”
That made you stop, looking down at your lover and sighing.
How you loved that man. A burning pillar of everything you could’ve asked for and more. Love was simple with him, honest and passionate. He loved fiercely and was unapologetic in doing so. There’s never been a moment where you’ve questioned Ace’s feelings for you. He wore them proudly, his heart that called your name and cursed the heavens when you were away.
You kissed the top of his head, Ace visibly softening beneath the gesture. He rose then, cupping your cheeks and pressing a burning kiss upon your lips. The scent of alcohol and the flaming sea filled your senses, the two of you mingling, meshing into a single being of desire.
“Let’s go home.” You spoke softly, breaking away from the kiss.
Ace nodded in agreement. “Only if I get cuddles.”
The two of you departed from the bar hand in hand, the night sky and summer breeze guiding you back to the ship.
Can you write a luffy x reader who was a strawhat pirate and during the time skip was sent to dressrosa and eventually got turned into a toy for going against doflamingo. When everyone appears in dressrosa she struggles because no one can remember her, but luffy feels like the strange toy helping him out is familiar and he gets warm feelings. Angst/ fluff at the end maybe?
Don’t Let Go
luffy x fem!reader
a/n: I loved this concept!! Idk why I never thought of this but now I kinda want to write this for law too… ehehe! anyway I’m sorry but as I said in the tags too, I changed some things about the toys etc, hope you don’t mind it!
words count: 8.2k
tags: angst and fluff, sabaody and dressrosa arc spoilers, pre and post time skip, hurt/comfort, not everything about the toys is accurate to the canon events in the animanga
“Zoro!!” Luffy screams, his voice cracking. He runs forward, hand outstretched, but Zoro’s body is already gone. Only the fading shimmer of Kuma’s paw-print remains in the air.
“No!!” His chest feels heavy, like it’s breaking “Bring them back!”
Brook disappears next, then Chopper, then Franky. Each time, Luffy throws himself forward, fists pounding the ground, nails scraping dirt.
You run to him, grabbing his arm “Luffy! We can’t—”
“No! I’ll save them!” His hands shake, his teeth grit. His eyes burn with panic “I can’t… I can’t lose everyone like this!”
Sanji vanishes, then Nami, then Robin, then Usopp, each one torn away before Luffy can reach them.
“No! No, no, no, no!” He falls to his knees, voice raw. His straw hat tips forward, hiding his eyes, but you see the tears dripping down his cheeks.
Then Kuma’s huge shadow turns to you.
Luffy freezes, his eyes widen “No… not her. Not Y/N. Please.”
Your breath catches in your throat “Luffy!”
He throws himself in front of you, arms wide “You can take me! Just not her!” His voice cracks in a way you’ve never heard before.
Kuma doesn’t stop. His massive hand rises, paw-print glowing.
Luffy screams, rushing forward, stretching his arms, his legs, his whole body to block you “I won’t let you touch her!!”
His fists slam into Kuma’s body, again and again, but the bear-like man doesn’t even flinch.
“Run!” you yell, trying to push Luffy back.
“No! I’ll protect you!” He clings to you like a drowning man, his nails digging into your clothes. His whole body trembles “Don’t leave me… please don’t leave me!!”
The paw descends.
“LUFFY!!” you scream, reaching for his face, the last thing you’ll ever touch.
Your body vanishes into the air.
Luffy’s arms close on nothing. His hands slam into the ground, empty. He stares at the spot where you were, his eyes wild, his voice breaking apart.
“Y/N!!!!”
The word tears from his chest, ripping his throat raw, echoing across Sabaody as he falls to the ground, clutching his straw hat.
And then, silence.
The Thousand Sunny waits at Sabaody. One by one, the crew returns, stronger, taller, smiling wide.
“Long time no see!” Usopp shouts.
“Nami-swan!” Sanji cries, spinning in the air.
“Chopper, you got bigger!” Luffy laughs, grabbing his hat as he runs to hug him.
Everyone talks, laughs, shouts. The sound of reunion fills the air.
But one voice is missing. One step. One laugh.
You.
Luffy scratches his head, grinning wide “Shishishi! We’re all here now!”
Robin nods “Yeah. All nine of us.”
“Right!” Luffy beams, stretching his arms to pull the crew into one giant, messy hug “We’re together again!”
But no one notices the empty space.
No one asks where you are.
No one remembers your face.
Not even Luffy.
Meanwhile, on Dressrosa.
Your small wooden hands tremble. Your painted eyes can’t cry. You’re just another toy among hundreds, forced to work, forced to move, never rest.
Doflamingo’s laughter echoes in the distance.
“Pathetic little thing,” he says “You should’ve stayed out of my way.”
You try to scream Luffy’s name, but the sound comes out broken, clunky, like gears grinding.
No one will hear you.
No one will remember you.
And in Sabaody, Luffy smiles bright, never knowing the piece of his heart that’s gone.
Two years.
Two years since Sabaody. Since Kuma’s paw sent you flying. Since you reached for Luffy’s face, and then this.
You were supposed to meet again at Sabaody. Start a new adventure.
But you are not there. You are here, on Dressrosa. A toy.
You sit on a crate in a dark alley, your wooden fingers clutching a scrap of paper. It’s a map you drew, secret tunnels under the Colosseum.
“Good work, Y/N,” Toy Soldier says, voice calm but serious “These paths… they’ll help us when the time comes.”
You nod, though your little head feels heavy “Yeah. I can… I can draw more. I used to… paint.” Your voice cracks “Before this.”
He looks at you with kind eyes, though he can’t say much “Stay strong. We all lost someone.”
At night, when the other toys fall into silence, you whisper to yourself.
“They’re back together now. My friends. My family. Luffy…”
Your voice is quiet, almost too quiet for your wooden body “You were supposed to hug me, smile at me, shout my name. You were supposed to… love me still.”
You hug your little arms around yourself. It’s the only warmth you get.
The streets of Dressrosa are full of color. Music, dancers, toys walking hand-in-hand with humans. Everyone smiles. Everyone pretends it’s paradise.
But you know better.
You move through the crowd, small wooden feet tapping against the stone. In your arms, you carry a rolled-up map, another route for the rebels.
“Careful, Y/N,” whispers another toy, a soldier with a missing arm “Guards are everywhere.”
“I know,” you mumble “I’m careful.”
Your voice is wooden, broken, but inside your heart pounds. Because today feels strange. The air feels heavier, warmer. Something presses in your chest, like a string being pulled.
Inside the Colosseum, the crowd roars.
“Lucy! Lucy! Lucy!”
A new fighter steps into the arena, tall and strong, wearing a helmet and cape. He laughs, carefree, as if nothing in the world scares him.
“Shishishishi!”
Your wooden body freezes.
That laugh.
Your small hands tremble so hard you almost drop the map.
“No… it can’t be…” you whisper, your voice cracking.
You secretly find a spot to watch, closer, closer, until you see him clearly.
Luffy.
He’s right there, in the ring, smiling, fighting like the world is his playground.
Two years you waited. Two years you dreamed of this. And yet…
“Lucy! Lucy!” the crowd chants.
He doesn’t look up. He doesn’t see you.
He doesn’t know you.
Your chest feels like it’s splitting in half.
“Luffy!!” you scream, though your voice is thin, almost mechanical. You raise your little wooden arms high “It’s me! I’m here!”
But the sound is lost in the roar of the arena.
He fights on, grinning wide, with no idea that the toy in the shadows is the girl he once swore he’d never let go.
“Luffy!!” you cry again, wooden arms raised. The sound of your voice scratches through your chest.
But before you can scream louder, a strong hand pulls you back into the shadows.
“Stop.”
You twist around and see the toy soldier. His arm holds you tight. His face is grave.
“Let me go!” you shout, kicking against him “That’s him! My… Luffy!”
One-Legged Soldier shakes his head. His voice is low, steady “No matter how loud you call, he will not hear you.”
You freeze, breath catching “That’s not true. He… he loved me. Too much to forget. If I keep calling, if I keep—”
“It’s not his choice,” One-Legged Soldier interrupts, his words like knives “It was never his choice to forget. That’s the curse. It steals names, faces, bonds. It doesn’t matter how strong your love was.”
Your small hands clench tight. Your wooden body trembles “But… he held me. He promised. He wouldn’t just let go!”
One-Legged Soldier lowers his head, his voice softer now “He didn’t let go. It was taken from him. And if you keep reaching for him now, you’ll only cut yourself deeper.”
Your painted eyes blur, though toys cannot cry “So what do I do? Just stand here? Just watch him fight like I don’t exist?”
“No,” One-Legged Soldier says firmly. He kneels down so his gaze meets yours “You fight too. You help him and his crew defeat Doflamingo. Because that is the only way this nightmare ends. If Sugar’s curse breaks, their memories will return. He will remember you. All of it.”
You shake your wooden head “And if he doesn’t?”
One-Legged Soldier’s jaw tightens “…Then at least you will know you gave him the chance. That is all love can do.”
You look past him, back at the arena, at Luffy throwing punches with that wild grin, the grin you once woke up to every morning.
Your voice is small, trembling “I just… I want him to look at me again.”
One-Legged Soldier places a hand on your shoulder, steady and strong “Then help us win. That’s the only way he ever will.”
You swallow hard and nod, clutching your little map to your chest.
“Okay. I’ll fight. For him. For us. For all of us.”
The next day you somehow find yourself in front of Law and part of your crew.
One-Legged Soldier notices your frozen body. He touches your shoulder gently “Go,” he says “Help them.”
You stumble forward, heart pounding.
“There’s… a toy,” Usopp says, pointing at you “Where’d it come from?”
Robin gasps covering her mouth with her hand but with a noticeable blush “It’s so tiny and cute!”
Luffy crouches down to your level, eyes wide with curiosity “Shishishi! You look funny!”
Your body locks. He’s looking right at you. The same eyes that once filled with tears when Kuma took you away. The same voice that once begged for you to stay.
But now… nothing.
You force a squeaky little laugh “Uh… I’m Y/N! The, uh, toy map helper! Very clumsy! Very useful too, ha-ha!” You wave your arms around and pretend to trip over your own wooden legs, falling flat on your face.
The crew bursts into laughter.
“What a weirdo.” Usopp snorts.
Luffy’s grin spreads wider “Shishishi! You’re funny! You can come with us!”
Your chest aches. He thinks you’re funny. Just a toy. Not the girl he once swore he’d never let go.
Hours pass. You guide them through side streets, warn about guard patrols, draw maps of tunnels. You laugh too loud, trip too often, act silly whenever anyone asks why your wooden eyes seem so sad.
But when Luffy’s laugh rings out, it feels like a knife sliding between your ribs.
When the crew regroups, Franky fixes his sharp eyes on you “You know this island better than anyone here. Can’t you just take us to Doflamingo?”
Your wooden fingers curl tight. You shake your head violently “No. I… I can’t.”
Luffy blinks at you “Why not? You’ve been helping us this whole time!”
Your body trembles. Your voice comes out broken, sharp “Because he knows me! If I go near him again, I’ll risk everything! I can’t… I can’t do it again! Not… like this…”
Luffy frowns, crouching down close, his face softer now “But… you’ve been helping us a lot. Why would Doflamingo care about a toy like you?”
Your mouth opens. No words come out. Only silence. Only fear.
One-Legged Soldier steps forward, his voice heavy “She’s telling the truth. Doflamingo already hurt her once. He knows her. She got lucky enough to run away safely and kept it low until now. We can’t put her in his path again.”
Luffy studies you, puzzled. His eyes are calm, but there’s something, like a shadow of concern, like something deep inside him stirs.
You turn your head away, whispering, “Please… don’t make me.”
The air is heavy.
Then Luffy laughs again, bright and easy “Shishishi! Okay then! You don’t gotta! Just keep helping the way you can!”
Your chest twists. He forgives so easily, like always. Like before. Like when he loved you.
And he doesn’t even know why.
The city is quieter at night. Lanterns swing above empty streets, the smell of food long gone from the stalls. You walk in the shadows, hugging the wall, guiding him through alleys you’ve memorized these past two years.
Luffy strolls in the open, hands laced behind his head, whistling, like the world is his. He doesn’t even try to hide. You scuttle close, wooden feet tapping against the stones.
Fate feels cruel. Two years apart, and this is what it gives you… an empty shell of a reunion, him close enough to touch, yet so far from knowing who you are.
“Hey,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence “You won’t believe who I met here.”
Your painted eyes blink up “Who?”
He grins so wide it almost blinds you “Sabo. The one brother I thought died when we were just kids.”
The name stops you cold.
Your wooden steps falter, your arms stiffen “W-what?”
“Yeah!” He spins, walking backward now so he can look at you. His grin is unstoppable “He’s alive! He was in the Colosseum! We talked, and… and he even took Ace’s fruit. Shishishi! He’s even stronger now!”
Your wooden hands start shaking. You press them hard to your chest.
You remember Sabo’s story, because Luffy once told it to you, on a quiet night on deck. The way his voice softened when he said “Sabo was my brother too”. The way his eyes lit up with both joy and pain.
And now… he’s smiling because one brother came back.
But the other…
Inside your chest, something cracks.
Ace… I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there when he died. I wasn’t there when you screamed, when you bled, when you broke apart. I should’ve been there to hold you, to tell you it wasn’t your fault. But… I vanished. And instead of helping you through it… I made it worse. And you don’t even know. You carried it all alone.
Your wooden body can’t cry. But inside, you’re sobbing so hard it feels like you’ll splinter.
“Hey,” Luffy says again, softer this time, his grin falters “Toy? You okay?”
You jolt, arms flying up in a silly wave “M-me? Fine! Totally fine! Just squeaky joints! Haha!” You stumble forward, pretending to trip over your own feet and landing flat on your face.
Usually, that earns laughter. But not this time.
Instead, Luffy crouches down next to you. His hand hovers in the air, like he wants to help you up but doesn’t know how. His voice is low, almost… careful.
“You’re acting weird. Sad weird.”
You freeze. Your wooden jaw clicks, but no words come. You force out a high-pitched laugh, jerky and fake “Nah, nah! Painted wrong! Sad face stuck on me, haha! That’s all!”
But his eyes don’t leave you. They’re clear, direct, almost too simple. But there’s something in them that twists you up.
Like he knows. Like somewhere deep inside, he remembers feeling this same sadness from you before.
Inside, your thoughts spiral.
Don’t look at me like that. Please don’t. You’ll break me. I want to tell you the truth so badly. I want to scream that I was yours, that I still am. That when you lost Ace, I wanted nothing more than to hold you. That even now, all I want is to take your pain and make it mine.
But I can’t. You don’t remember me. And it’s not your fault. And if I tell you now, you’ll just look at me like I’m another broken toy in this broken city.
“Shishishi,” Luffy chuckles suddenly, like he wants to lighten the air. He stretches his hand out and taps the top of your wooden head with one finger “Even if you are sad, it’s okay. We’ll kick Doflamingo’s ass, and then everyone’ll smile. You too.”
Your body jerks at his touch. His hand is warm, real, alive.
You look up at him. That easy grin. That simple faith. He’s still him. He’s still the boy who once cried into your arms and then promised you’d never be apart.
And you’re still hiding.
Your voice comes out in a squeak “Y-yeah… I’ll smile. Promise.”
But inside, you know the truth.
You’re smiling for him now, not for yourself. And you’re breaking more with every step.
The night air cools as you keep walking, guiding him through side streets you’ve memorized. Luffy follows behind, straw hat tipped back, humming like he has no fear in the world.
You’re still shaking from his words about Sabo. But you push it down. You have to.
To keep moving, you fall into an old rhythm. Without realizing it, you reach out to the wall as you walk, your small wooden fingers dragging gently along the stone.
It’s something you always used to do on long walks with him, your hand brushing along railings, walls, fences. You said once it was a habit you do without thinking much about but that somehow makes you feel like you’d never feel lost and like it reminds you that you’re alive and well. He used to laugh, call it a weird thing, but he never forgot it.
Tonight, your fingers trace the stone in the same pattern.
You don’t even notice. But Luffy does.
He stops walking.
His dark eyes narrow slightly, fixed on your small wooden hand brushing the wall. His humming cuts off.
“…Weird.”
You pause, looking back “Huh? What’s weird?”
He tilts his head, straw hat shifting with him “That thing you just did. With the wall. I’ve seen that before.”
Your whole body goes stiff “W-what thing?”
“That thing,” he says, pointing, serious now in that strange, childlike way he gets “You drag your hand. Tap it three times.” He stares at you longer than usual “…It feels like I’ve seen it a lot. With someone I knew.”
Your wooden chest tightens like it’s splintering.
Inside, your thoughts race. He remembers. No, he doesn’t. It’s just a feeling. Just déjà vu. Don’t cry. Don’t scream. Don’t tell him. If you tell him now, it’ll only hurt him more.
You force a laugh, jerky and sharp “O-oh that! Just a silly toy thing! Tap-tap-tap! Keeps balance, you know? Clumsy toy needs tricks, haha!” You stumble on purpose, throwing your arms around.
But Luffy doesn’t laugh. Not this time.
He just keeps staring at you. His face is blank, but his eyes… his eyes are searching. Like something inside him is pulling at a memory that isn’t there.
His voice comes low, quiet “You feel… familiar.”
Your whole wooden body freezes.
You want to scream. You want to tell him everything. You want to throw yourself at him, beg him to remember, remind him of the nights you whispered dreams into each other’s shoulders, of the way he once clung to you and said he’d never let go.
But instead, you force another laugh “You’re silly, Luffy! I’m just a toy! Nothing familiar here!”
And you keep walking, your wooden feet heavy against the stones.
Behind you, Luffy stays still for a long moment, his straw hat shadowing his eyes. His hand twitches at his side, like he almost wants to reach for you.
“Weird…” he whispers again.
And though he doesn’t know why, his chest feels tight.
The following days blur together. The city hums with life as always, parades, music, Doflamingo’s posters fluttering above every street. But under it all, the rebellion brews, secret and angry.
You keep moving, helping in the shadows. Passing maps, warning allies, guiding Strawhats through alleys where guards won’t find them.
And all the while, you try to hide the ache in your chest.
But someone is watching.
Luffy doesn’t usually notice small things. He forgets details, misses hints, barrels straight through life without thinking too hard. But with you…
He starts seeing things.
The way you stop at food stalls, staring a moment too long, even though toys don’t eat. The way you tilt your head back when the sky turns pink, like you’re waiting for a memory to drop from the clouds. The way you laugh a little too loud, too forced, when someone asks if you’re okay.
And then there are the habits.
He catches you tapping the wall again, three times, when you think no one’s looking. He notices how you hum a tune under your breath when you’re nervous, the same one he can’t quite place, but it rings in his ears like an old friend’s voice. He sees the way you linger close to him, like gravity pulls you there, only to back away fast, like you’re scared of yourself.
It’s strange. It’s not normal.
And Luffy hates strange feelings. He doesn’t know what to do with them.
One night, as you walk together through the quieter streets again, he slows his pace. You don’t notice at first. You’re busy scanning the rooftops for guards, your small wooden hands clutched tight to your chest.
But then you hear him say it again “…You feel familiar.”
You freeze. Slowly turn “L-Luffy, we already talked about this—”
“I know,” he cuts in. His voice is calm but firm. He steps closer, eyes locked on you “But I keep thinking it. When you laugh. When you move. Even when you’re quiet. It feels like…”
He trails off, brow furrowed, like the words are stuck.
Your wooden chest feels like it’ll crack open “Feels like…?”
“…Like I’m supposed to know you.” he finishes at last, quiet and raw.
The silence between you is unbearable.
Inside, your thoughts spiral. You do know me. You’re supposed to. Two years ago, you loved me so much you swore you’d never let me go. I’ve been waiting, breaking, hoping for you to come back to me. And now you’re here… yet I’m a stranger to you.
You want to scream. You want to break the curse with your bare hands.
Instead, you shake your wooden head, forcing a laugh that cracks like splintered wood “Silly captain. I’m just a toy.”
But as you walk away, you don’t see the way his hand clenches into a fist at his side.
Luffy may not remember you. But the feeling in his chest? That’s something he can’t ignore much longer.
The night is quiet, lanterns swinging gently over the empty streets of Dressrosa. You move ahead, guiding Luffy through alleys only you know, keeping low, your small wooden hands brushing along walls.
Behind you, Luffy hums a tune, hands laced behind his head. But something’s off, he keeps glancing at you.
Even from a few steps back, Zoro notices. He frowns, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed “Why is she… acting weird?” he mutters, barely audible.
Robin, walking beside him, tilts her head, eyes narrowing “It’s more than weird. She’s… forcing it. She’s laughing, moving, helping… but it seems more like there’s something underneath it all.”
Zoro grunts “Yeah, I noticed. It’s like she’s… hiding something.”
Robin’s fingers brush along her chin “I think she’s scared. Or… hurting. But she won’t let anyone see it.”
Luffy slows his pace, noticing the way you hesitate at a street corner, fingers hovering over a stone wall before moving on.
“Hey,” he says softly “Toy… are you okay? You keep doing things… like something’s wrong.”
You glance back, forcing your usual squeaky laugh “Ah! Nah! Just a clumsy little toy! Everything’s fine! Totally fine!”
But Zoro and Robin exchange a look. Robin whispers, “Even he noticed, didn’t he?”
Zoro grunts “Yeah…”
Luffy takes a deep breath and walks closer, lowering himself so he’s at your level “I don’t get it,” he says quietly “Something about you… I don’t know… you feel familiar. And you look… sad, even when you laugh. Why?”
You freeze, heart splintering inside your wooden chest. I can’t tell him. I can’t. He doesn’t remember. But I literally can’t get it out even if I want to.
So you stumble on your feet, waving your arms wildly “N-nothing! Really! Just… uh… toy stuff! Haha! Clumsy toy alert!”
But even as you pretend, the ache in your chest bleeds through your voice, and your painted eyes can’t hide the weight of two years of pain.
Robin leans closer to Zoro, whispering, “He’s restless. He’s… confused?”
Zoro grunts again “Yeah. I can see it. That feeling he gets when something’s wrong. He’s not going to let this go.”
Inside, your thoughts race. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t know me. And yet… he feels something. He feels the pain I’ve been carrying all this time, even if he doesn’t know why. I can’t cry. I can’t tell him. I have to keep helping… keep protecting him, even if it kills me inside.
You force another laugh, voice squeaky “Come on, captain! This alley is safe! No scary guards here!”
Luffy watches you, frowning. That tight feeling in his chest grows stronger. Something about the way you move, the way you look, the little habits… it’s pulling at a memory he can’t grasp.
He doesn’t remember your name. He doesn’t remember your face. He doesn’t remember… you.
But he feels it. And that feeling won’t go away.
The city is quieter at night. Most of the humans sleep. Only toys roam the streets, silent and watchful, passing messages like shadows.
You move on your own tonight, slipping between alleys, carrying a scrap of paper with rebel notes.
You don’t notice the shadow above you.
On a rooftop, Luffy crouches, eyes fixed on your small wooden figure below. He doesn’t understand why he’s here. He should be resting. He should be waiting for morning and the next fight. But he couldn’t sleep. His chest felt tight, restless, so he followed you.
And now he’s watching.
You stop at a corner. The streets are empty. For a moment, you relax, shoulders easing.
And then, without thinking, you do it again… another old habit.
You find a small stone lying by the wall, pick it up, and start rolling it in your hands. It’s something you always did, picking up seashells or pebbles and fidgeting with them while you talked to him. You said once that it calmed your thoughts, kept your hands busy so your heart wouldn’t explode from nerves.
Tonight, the motion is automatic. Wooden fingers turning, rolling, tapping the stone three times against your palm.
Up above, Luffy’s breath catches “…I’ve seen that before.”
You don’t hear him. You just keep rolling the stone, staring at the stars. And inside, your chest aches. Two years. I should’ve been back with them. I should’ve been with him. But instead, I’m stuck like this, nothing but a shadow. They don’t even know I exist anymore.
Your hands tremble. The stone slips and falls to the ground. You stare at it for a long time before leaving it behind.
When you turn the corner, Luffy finally drops down silently behind you. His face is serious, too serious for him. His chest feels strange, heavy.
“That thing again,” he mutters “The way you play with stuff in your hands. I know I’ve seen it.”
You jolt, spinning around “L-Luffy?! What are you doing here?!”
He stares straight at you “I followed you.”
Your wooden body freezes “W-why?”
“…Because you feel familiar. And I have to understand.”
The silence is unbearable. You open your mouth, but no words come.
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing, searching your painted face like it holds a secret “…Why do you feel so familiar?”
Your heart screams inside your chest. Because you knew me. Because you loved me. Because I was yours.
But your wooden voice only squeaks out a laugh “Hahaha! You’re imagining things, captain! Just a funny toy!”
Luffy doesn’t laugh. He just stares, confused, restless, torn between believing you and trusting the weight in his chest.
“…Weird,” he mutters again, fists clenching “I hate this feeling.”
And for the first time in two years, you almost break.
The palace towers over you, monstrous and suffocating, its corridors twisting like a spider’s web. You know them all. Two years of sneaking through these halls, carrying messages for rebels, hiding from guards, you could walk them blindfolded.
“Shishishi! This way, right?” Luffy grins, about to charge ahead.
You yank his sleeve with your tiny wooden hands “No! Not that way, idiot! Guards!”
Kyros steadies him with a sigh “Listen to her, Strawhat. She knows this palace better than anyone.”
Luffy huffs but doesn’t argue. He trusts you, even if he doesn’t know why.
You lead them through narrow halls, ducking behind columns. The deeper you go, the colder the air feels, the heavier your chest grows.
You slip ahead of the others, wooden feet tapping lightly on the stone, heart pounding in your chest. If I can reach the throne room first, if I can distract him, maybe… maybe they’ll have a chance to get Law out.
You’ve walked these corridors for two years, hiding, surviving, guiding rebels who dared to resist. You know the cracks in the walls, the secret paths, the sound of guards’ boots before they turn a corner.
But you weren’t careful enough.
Threads snap around your arms and legs before you even see them. They bite deep, yanking you up off the floor like a marionette.
You choke on a gasp as you dangle in the air, helpless.
From the shadows, Doflamingo steps forward, his grin sharp and cruel “Well, well. Look what wandered into my palace.”
You thrash against the threads, wooden joints creaking “Let me go!”
His laughter fills the hall, shrill and cutting “You never learn, do you, Y/N? Two years of hiding, scurrying around my island like a rat, whispering with rebels… and now you walk right into my hands again.”
Your painted eyes narrow, heart hammering.
“You should’ve stayed quiet,” Doflamingo continues, strolling closer “You should’ve accepted your little toy life. But no—you had to keep fighting. Just like before. Just like the day I ordered you captured. You were dangerous even then.”
His grin widens “Thought you’d be quiet as a toy, especially when your dumb captain arrived.”
Your body jerks in his strings, panic rising “Shut up!”
Doflamingo tilts his head mockingly, sunglasses flashing “That rubber boy of yours. Pathetic. Your big love made of rubber sails into my sea, and he doesn’t even remember you exist. How tragic is that?”
Your chest cracks with pain “Stop—”
He steps closer, voice dripping venom “He forgot you. Two years, and poof—you were erased from his little heart and even smaller brain. And you still help him? You still hope for him? You’re nothing, Y/N. Not a girl. Not a fighter. Just wood and paint and a memory no one kept.”
Unseen by Doflamingo, Luffy grips the windowsill of a high corridor, hidden in the shadows with Kyros and Viola. His eyes are wide, jaw tight, every word striking him like a hammer.
“What… is he talking about?” Luffy mutters, confusion and anger mixing in his voice.
Kyros’ one hand clenches “So… that’s why she was cursed.”
But Luffy doesn’t look away. His chest feels like it’s burning, like something inside him is trying to claw its way out. Doflamingo’s words cut too deep, too personal, for someone he’s “never met”.
Down below, your wooden body trembles, but you force your voice out, sharp and shaking “I don’t care what you say. I’ll fight you until the end. Because even if he doesn’t remember… I do.”
Doflamingo only laughs, tightening the threads until you can’t move, your wooden body straining against his control.
“You’ll break yourself for him? Fine. Let’s see how long you last.”
And from above, Luffy’s hands curl into fists, his eyes blazing with something he doesn’t understand.
The strings tighten until you can’t move, wood creaking as your little toy body dangles helplessly in Doflamingo’s grasp.
He smirks, savoring your pain “Pathetic. Still wriggling after all this time? You’re nothing, Y/N. Just a forgotten toy clinging to a boy who forgot you.”
Your painted eyes squeeze shut, your wooden chest aching with every word. I’m not nothing. I’m not.
And then a wave crashes through Dressrosa.
It’s memory.
A collective gasp ripples through the city as toys everywhere shimmer and stretch, their forms twisting back to flesh and blood. Sugar’s fainting scream echoes faintly through the halls, unseen.
And the curse shatters.
It hits you like fire.
Your body cracks, wood splitting, light pouring out through the fractures. You choke on a scream as the pain rips you apart and pulls you back together at once.
Your small wooden hands stretch, skin returning, warmth flooding back. Your legs, your arms, your voice… real again, human again.
The strings bite harder as your weight changes, Doflamingo’s smirk faltering just for a second “Tch… well, well. Look who’s back.”
You collapse against his threads, gasping, your voice raw and shaking but your own at last “I-I’m… I’m me again…”
Luffy stares.
His chest seizes. His breath stops. His eyes widen, trembling, as he watches you tear free of the curse, your true self burning into reality before him.
And with it the dam breaks.
Memories crash over him.
Your laugh on the Sunny. Your hand brushing his when you walked together. Your voice whispering to him on long nights, telling him he wasn’t alone. Your arms holding him swearing you’d never let go.
It all comes back at once, violent and unstoppable.
“Y/N…”
His voice cracks.
Kyros stiffens beside him “You… remember her now?”
But Luffy doesn’t answer. His whole body trembles, his fists shaking so hard they bleed against the stone.
Doflamingo yanks you higher, strings cutting into your wrists. He laughs, cruel and sharp “Look at that. The great Strawhat finally remembers. Took you long enough, hm?”
You meet Luffy’s eyes across the hall. For the first time in two years, you see him seeing you.
“Luffy…” you whisper, your voice breaking.
His chest feels like it’s tearing apart “I—I forgot you. I forgot you all this time…” His teeth grit, tears stinging his eyes even as his anger rises like fire “Why?! Why didn’t I remember you?!”
Doflamingo cackles “Because I made sure of it! She was mine to break, my toy. And oh, how she waited for you… still loving you while you forgot her!”
“Shut up!” Luffy roars, his voice cracking. His aura explodes, raw haki leaking out in a suffocating wave. The windows around him rattle, the stone beneath his grip cracks. His straw hat tilts forward, shadowing eyes burning with fury and grief.
“Don’t you ever talk about her like that!”
Your body shakes in Doflamingo’s threads, pain coursing through you “Luffy… I—I never stopped—”
But the words choke in your throat as the strings tighten, silencing you.
Doflamingo sneers “Pathetic. Even now, hanging in my web, she thinks of you. And you? You left her to rot. Was your love even real if you forgot so easily?”
“STOP!!!” Luffy’s scream tears through the hall, his voice raw, desperate, overflowing with rage and sorrow all at once.
“Luffy, don’t listen to him… you… you couldn’t remember me. And… and I couldn’t tell you. It’s how Sugar’s power works. It’s not your fault.” You try to explain even though you’re having a difficult time breathing.
He remembers. He remembers everything. And he won’t lose you again.
And at that moment, nothing else matters. Not the palace. Not Doflamingo. Not even the war coming.
All that matters is you.
And the vow burning in his chest: This time, I won’t let go.
The strings bite into your skin, holding you aloft like a puppet. You’re trembling, your chest heaving, but you’re you again. Flesh and blood. Voice and tears.
And for the first time in two years, Luffy sees you.
His breath comes ragged, his fists shaking. The fire of rage burns in him, but beneath it, softer, heavier, something else is clawing out of his chest.
“Y/N…” he whispers, the name like a prayer, like it might shatter if he speaks it too loud.
Your eyes meet his, wide and wet. His face is shadowed beneath his hat, but you see the trembling of his mouth, the way his eyes glisten.
“I—I thought you were gone,” he breathes, voice breaking “And then I forgot… I forgot you…”
Your heart twists. Even from here, wrapped in Doflamingo’s strings, you want to reach for him, to wipe the guilt from his face “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t choose to forget me…”
“But I did.” His voice cracks, harsh and raw. He grips his chest like it hurts to breathe “You were right there all this time, and I didn’t even know. I looked at you and—” His words choke, a tear finally slipping free “—I didn’t know it was you.”
The anguish in his voice is unbearable, but there’s something else there too. Tenderness. The same warmth you remember.
And even strung up like a broken marionette, your lips tremble into the faintest smile.
“You still found me, Luffy. Even if you didn’t even remember me… you found me.”
His shoulders shake, his jaw clenched as more tears fall “I’ll never forget you again. I swear it. I don’t care what it takes. I won’t let go this time.”
Your heart cracks, overflowing with both pain and love. Despite the strings cutting into you, despite Doflamingo’s cruel laugh echoing through the hall, you feel a strange peace in this moment. Because he remembers. Because he’s still him.
Doflamingo tuts, mockingly “How touching. A reunion in the middle of my palace. How sweet. But don’t fool yourself, Strawhat. You can't even imagine how much she tried and how much she pissed me off. So now she’s mine to break, not yours to save.”
But Luffy doesn’t even look at him. His eyes never leave you, burning with a fierce promise.
“Just wait, Y/N,” he says, his voice trembling but strong “I’ll get you out. I swear it on my life.”
And though the threads cut deep, though the danger looms over you both, your heart pounds with a fragile, desperate hope.
Because you believe him, you always believe him.
“Strawhat!!” Doflamingo’s laughter rings cruelly “Come on, show me how much you really care! Let’s see how long you can protect her before she breaks again!”
Your chest seizes. His voice drips poison, every word twisting the knife.
But Luffy doesn’t look at him. His eyes, fierce, burning, desperate, stay fixed on you.
“Y/N…” he calls, voice hoarse from shouting, but so full of fire it makes you tremble.
Your lips part, your heart squeezing “Luffy…”
His fists clench, trembling “I’ll fight him. I’ll stop him. But listen…” He bites down hard, tears stinging his eyes as his voice shakes “I’ll come back for you. I promise. No matter what happens, I’ll find you again.”
Your breath catches, a sob building in your throat. For a second you see him not as the pirate facing a warlord, but as the boy who once held your hand under the stars, promising you the world.
You nod, barely holding yourself together “Then I’ll wait. No matter what.”
Doflamingo snarls, threads rising, and Luffy finally turns back, fury boiling over “Don’t you touch her again!”
With a roar, he drives the battle upward, smashing through ceilings, forcing Doflamingo to follow. The fight spills toward the open rooftop, just as the palace groans and splits apart beneath them.
You reach out instinctively, as if to stop him, but Viola catches your wrist gently. Her eyes, sharp but kind, hold yours.
“Come. He’ll need space for this fight.”
You swallow hard, trembling, your hand still aching from where Luffy held it. But you nod.
As Luffy vanishes above into the storm of strings and fists, you stumble into Viola’s arms. She steadies you, guiding you out of the ruined hall, out of the palace.
And the promise still burns in your chest.
The streets of Dressrosa are silent in the aftermath. Smoke curls from broken walls, rubble litters the ground, and voices echo faintly through the city as citizens stir, free for the first time in years.
And on the rooftop, Doflamingo lies broken, his strings severed, his laughter silenced.
Luffy sways on his feet, his chest heaving, blood and dust streaking his skin. But even before the victory cheers can rise, before the people can shout his name, he turns. His gaze scans the ruined streets below, searching.
She’s here. She’s waiting. I promised.
You’re standing with Viola near the rubble when you see him. Straw hat tilted, shoulders slumped, but his eyes are fixed on you.
Your breath catches “Luffy…”
And then he’s there. Somehow, even in his battered state, he’s running toward you, stumbling but unstoppable.
You don’t wait. Your legs carry you forward before your mind can catch up, and when you crash into his chest, his arms wrap around you so tight you almost can’t breathe.
Two years of silence. Two years of waiting. Two years of being forgotten. All of it shatters in that embrace.
“You came back.” you sob into his chest.
His voice is hoarse, trembling with exhaustion and relief “I told you. I promised.”
The sound of familiar voices makes you turn.
“Oi, oi, what’s with all the waterworks?” Zoro smirks, though his gaze lingers on you, softer than usual.
Usopp stands frozen for a second, mouth hanging open, before you throw yourself at him, clinging tight.
“Usopp—thank you!” you cry, tears streaming fresh “If you hadn’t defeated Sugar, I’d still be— I’d still be…”
He stiffens, then blushes bright red as his arms slowly pat your back “O-oi! D-don’t cry on me like that! I just did what I had to do!” But his voice wavers, pride leaking through despite himself.
Robin steps forward, her smile warm but her eyes sharp, thoughtful “So… you were a toy this whole time.”
Franky whistles low, eyes wide “No wonder none of us remembered. That brat’s power was terrifying.”
Zoro crosses his arms “Which toy were you, though? Did you see us?”
Your chest tightens. For a moment, the words won’t come. You glance at Luffy, his hand still gripping yours tightly, grounding you. He gives you the smallest nod, silent reassurance.
You swallow hard “I… I was the little wooden clumsy one. The one you all saw. The one who kept following you around, trying to help.”
The crew falls silent.
Usopp’s jaw drops. Franky’s eyes bug out. Even Robin’s composure flickers in surprise.
Zoro mutters low “…That’s why you seemed familiar.”
Tears blur your vision again, but you manage a trembling smile “It was me. All this time. I wanted to tell you so badly, but I couldn’t. And you didn’t remember me.”
You squeeze Luffy’s hand tighter, your voice breaking “But now you do. And that’s enough.”
Luffy presses his forehead gently against yours, his voice a whisper only you can hear “I’ll never let them take you from me again.”
Luffy sits slumped against a broken column, his chest rising and falling hard as Law kneels nearby, patching him up with steady hands. His coat is torn, his face tired, but his eyes are sharp as ever, watching.
You hover close, still clutching the edges of your sleeves. Luffy glances up at you often, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he looks away too long.
Silence stretches until Law finally breaks it. His tone is even, but his gaze is piercing.
“I heard everything back there. Doflamingo wasn’t just mocking you. He was angry. Furious.” His hands don’t stop working as he ties off a bandage on Luffy’s arm “So tell me… why? What did you do that made him hate you enough to erase you?”
Your throat tightens. For a moment you hesitate, but then you lift your chin. You owe them the truth.
“When I first landed here, two years ago,” you begin, voice quiet but steady, “something felt wrong. The people were smiling, but their eyes… they weren’t free. And everywhere, there were paintings, songs, cheers about Doflamingo. Like he was some kind of hero.”
Law’s eyes narrow “Propaganda.”
You nod “I couldn’t ignore it. I started following his officers. Listening. Asking questions in the streets. I found people hiding. And Sugar’s curse wasn't perfect. Some people remembered, but were too afraid to speak.”
Your fists clench at your sides “So I told them not to be afraid anymore. I told them I’d help. I sabotaged shipments, destroyed one of the factories, freed a group of toys from the underground.”
Luffy stares at you, his mouth slightly open.
Your voice wavers, but you keep going “That’s when he found me. He called me a traitor of the island. Said I was dangerous because I gave people hope. And so he… he made sure no one would remember me again.”
The words hang heavy in the air.
Law studies you for a long moment, his usual cold expression softening just slightly “Risking everything to defy him… That explains it.”
He looks away, almost like he doesn’t want you to see the flicker of respect in his eyes “You did more damage than most could in years.”
Luffy’s fists tighten against his knees. His voice cracks, fierce and low “That’s my girl.”
Your chest burns. His words fill the hollow ache in you, even if your eyes brim with tears again.
Law finishes tying off the last bandage and stands, dusting off his coat “He’s stable now. I’ll give you two some time.”
His eyes flick to you once more, thoughtful, before he turns and walks off, leaving the two of you alone in the ruined hall.
The silence that follows is heavy, but Luffy breaks it, his voice raw “You fought him. All that time, you were fighting him.”
You swallow hard, tears threatening again “I wasn’t strong enough to beat him. But I had to try. I couldn’t just… sit and do nothing.”
Luffy’s hand finds yours, squeezing tight. His thumb brushes over your knuckles like he’s afraid to let go.
“You were alone… and you still fought for them” he whispers. His eyes glisten, his jaw tight “I’m proud of you, Y/N. So proud.”
Your breath catches. His words sink deep, filling the cracks that two years of silence left behind. You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his, closing your eyes.
For a moment, it’s just the two of you. Alive. Together.
And finally, remembered.
Your hands tremble as you reach for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his vest. And then you break, pressing yourself against him, hugging him as if it’s the very first time.
For a heartbeat, he freezes, then his arms close around you, strong and desperate. His hat tilts back, his chin pressed into your hair. He holds you so tight it almost hurts, as if he’s afraid that if he loosens his grip, you’ll disappear again.
“Y/N…” he breathes, voice rough, shaking with more than exhaustion.
Your tears soak into his chest, and when he pulls back just enough to see your face, his eyes are shining too. Without a word, he leans down and presses his lips to yours.
It’s soft. Gentle. Trembling with everything he can’t put into words.
You kiss him back, your heart breaking and mending all at once.
When he finally pulls back, you whisper and your voice cracking, “I’m so sorry, Luffy. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you… after Ace.”
His eyes widen slightly, but you go on, choking on the words.
“When I read the news… I knew. I knew you lost someone so dear to you. And I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t hold you, I couldn’t fight with you, I couldn’t tell you you weren’t alone.” Your tears spill again, unstoppable “You lost Ace… and you lost me too. And you didn’t even know it.”
Luffy’s face crumples for a moment, but then his hands are cupping your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away your tears. His voice is hoarse but firm “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault. You didn’t leave me. They took you.”
You shake your head, sobbing quietly “But I still wasn’t there when you needed me most.”
He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. His voice softens “I… I made it through. Because I had to. Because I still had people waiting for me. And now I have you again.”
Your breath hitches, but his warmth steadies you, grounding you.
After a long silence, Luffy lets out a small laugh, raw, tired, but real “Y’know… that toy. That clumsy little toy that kept following us around.”
You blink up at him, confused, until he goes on, his grin tugging at the corner of his mouth “It felt so familiar. I didn’t know why, but… the way it moved, the little things it did. It was just like you. And I couldn’t figure it out until you came back.”
Your eyes widen. Your lips part in disbelief “…You noticed.”
He nods seriously, his hand squeezing yours “Of course I did. The way you tilted your head when you were confused. The way you tapped your wooden fingers when you were waiting. The way you laughed a little too much at stupid things.”
You cover your mouth with your hand, tears welling again but this time mixed with a trembling smile “Luffy… I’m… I’m so surprised you saw all of that.”
His grin widens, soft but proud “I always notice you, Y/N. Even if I didn’t remember… even if it was impossible… I think some part of me knew.”
You let out a broken laugh, burying your face against his shoulder “You’re unbelievable.”
He hugs you again, tighter than before, whispering against your hair “I’ll never forget you again. And if I do, I’ll find you every single time.”
Of course you believe him, you always believe him.
Angsty Corbeau x Fem!Reader (SFW) inspired by the DLC!! This is ANOTHER ALTERNATE ENDING featuring some extra friends! The beginning is identical to the others, breaking off into new stuff a touch sooner ;3
This lovely prompt comes straight from the beautiful mind of @mystiquefern !! Thank you for the idea, I love to cook <3
Prompt: Corbeau tries to make you jealous. It’s super effective, and Griselle finds out. Corbeau’s in deep shit.
She/her pronouns are used, (y/n) in place of a name, and there’s minimal body description. Content warning below the break :>
CW: angst, swearing, jealousy, neglect, threat of physical violence, incredibly minor sexual implications (it’s right there ⬇️)
After your initial hookup, Corbeau had contacted you several times. He liked to text you throughout the day, and would line up his free time to spend it with you. He took you out, spoiled you, and fucked you senseless. He was insatiable for a few months, and you almost constantly had bruises and hickeys as a consequence. But then, as things in Lumiose grew more tense and dangerous following the discovery of Hyper Lumiose, you spent less and less time together. You’d chalked it up to the two of you being busy, but your recent conversations had been… lacking. Your only meetings were regarding hyperspace distortions. He’d grown cold, and his texts had become infrequent. You’d done your best to not be insecure about it. That is, until today. He had a surprise for you.
The surprise was a team introduction to Korrina. You personally found nothing wrong with her, but your blood boiled more and more as Corbeau gave her praise. He hadn’t complimented you in weeks, and now this girl you totally wrecked in battle was getting his full attention. Either he was totally oblivious, or he was trying to upset you. Had he moved on? Was that your fault for not labeling things? You pushed the thoughts out of your head, the tip of your tongue lay firmly pinched between your upper and lower teeth.
“Korrina, I trust there is a room prepared for you at Hotel Z. I’m sure the old building would love to see a powerful trainer such as yourself. You’d better get settled, rest up so we can start surveying right away in the morning.”
“Mr. Corbeau, if I may, I would like to stay and talk to you personally.” You tried hard to hide the danger in your mouth, but your words come out like ice.
“Of course.” His face doesn’t show it, but there’s a vague flash of fear hiding beneath his features. Your eyes are fixated on a spot on the floor as the others leave, air growing tense. Philippe had stayed, as you expected, he still had a job to do.
“Are you serious?” Your eyes lifted to meet his.
“What?” Corbeau sounded almost incredulous.
“Don’t fuck with me, Corbeau. You know exactly what.” Your voice is poison on the verge of boiling.
“Are you not grateful to have such a strong ally?” So he did know. “You’ll need all the help you can get.” It was a stupid mistake to taunt you right now, and your fists clenched at his words.
“I don’t need help. Korrina’s not even remotely as strong as me. I forgot for two seconds I needed to mega evolve, and the battle was already over! You saw me beat her ass twice!” Despite your raising voice, Philippe remained firmly behind Corbeau’s desk. “One of my partners knocked out her entire team! And you want to run your mouth like she’s the newest, hottest thing in Lumiose?” There were a few moments of silence as Corbeau took in your words.
“She is.” Your eyes widen dangerously. Did he need a reminder that you kicked his ass, too? The air could be cut with a knife. “Well, newest at least.” He fiddled with a pen between his hands, eyes flicking to yours again. You were furious. Corbeau continued as if he didn’t notice, looking back down at his pen. “If you’re going to have this poor of an attitude when we meet, I may just have to start calling Ms. Mega Stones over for jobs instead.” He instantly regretted his words, hearing the implication only after they’d left his mouth. Begrudgingly, his eyes met yours again. Betrayal, rage, shame; jealously. Pushing you by praising someone else was torture enough, and now he’s put the idea of another woman in your mind. You’d always had an attitude and would talk back, but he’d never seen you truly angry. Corbeau remembered your life outside of Lumiose, and his stomach dropped at the thought that you might leave out of spite alone. Your face held an expression he’s never seen, a kind of rage he didn’t know you had.
“Well, congratulations on finding a new bitch to fuck on the side.” Your words were sharp and targeted, disregarding Philippe’s presence entirely. “Have fun with her, since she’s clearly better than me at something.” You turned to face the elevator and paused. “Save your breath next time and call her first.” The only sound in the room was your heavy boots carrying you away from the source of your rage. As the doors closed, you refused to spare him another glance.
“I’d like you to handle communication with her for now.” Corbeau’s voice was barely level, Philippe sensed its subtle waver.
“Yes, boss.”
Back at the Hotel, after a very blurry walk—with numerous people recognizing you and asking if you’re alright—you take a seat at the strategy meeting table. Your puffy eyes look down at your croissant curry, you wanted to have an appetite.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Lida prodded, but you weren’t angry at her. Hell, you weren’t even angry at Korrina. Sure, she’s miles behind you and not worth an inch of Corbeau’s praise, but she didn’t do anything wrong. She was strong, kind, and ready to help. You weren’t about to torture yourself by hating someone you have to save the city with.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Thank you.” Your gaze met hers briefly as she poked at a croissant. “Just being with you guys is enough.” These were your friends, borderline family. You’d radically accept Korrina, and forget entirely about that poisonous little man. That would be the healthiest thing.
The healthiest thing would have been to maintain a routine, go outside, and engage in the activities you normally enjoyed. But, you could only manage one “healthiest thing” at once. Your bed gripped you with a suffocating weight, and you wished you could melt into the mattress. It had been a long time since you felt so down, and your coping skills weren’t exactly up to par. Nothing felt right, and you didn’t eat or drink. You just slept.
Three days went by like this, your rotom phone was silenced and lost somewhere in your blankets. No one had seen you or heard from you, and your friends started to worry. They had been looking everywhere for you, even contacted Emma, but had forgotten to check one place: your room. Lida was the first to have the thought, gently knocking on your door and calling out to you. You vaguely hear the knocking and your name coming from the hallway, and your mind flicks to your habit of not locking the door. Hotel Z was safe enough for you to forget. When there’s no response, you hear the handle turn and click open, then Lida calls out to you again. The closed curtains darken your room dramatically, save a stripe of golden hour light, as the sun begins to set. Lida rounds the corner and sees you fully tucked in, blankets wrapped around you everywhere. There’s a box of tissues on the nightstand and an empty water bottle. A tiny garbage can sits by the bed, and she sees your arm slip out of the blankets to toss a tissue into it.
“Hey, girl, are you okay? Did you catch a cold?” She sounds genuinely concerned, waiting to step forward until you’ve answered her question.
“Something like that. Not contagious though, don’t worry. I just… I made some mistakes, I guess.” You stop yourself from spilling the entire story to Lida. Her brow furrows as she steps over to the side of your bed.
“What’s gotten into you?” She sits next to you, resting a hand on your shoulder.
“A man.” Resentment can be heard in your voice. “A stupid one, at that.” Corbeau wasn’t stupid, and that actually made your situation worse. You sighed, trying to hold back tears as Lida responds.
“Girl, you are literally the hottest person in the entire city.” You laugh, to your own surprise, and she doubles down. “Bitch, I’m serious. Wait- was it Corbeau? You let that guy hurt you?” She didn’t mean to sound so judgmental, but it stung anyways. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know. It’s okay, Lida. I just need some time to rest.” You watch as she tilts her head, thinking for a moment. There’s hesitation knitted into her next question. “How long have you been in bed?” She watches your expression closely as you process.
“What day is it?” It couldn’t have been that long.
“Thursday.”
“Shit. Three days, I guess. I’m fine though, I promise.” You look up at her with the best reassuring smile you can muster. Her brows furrow as she seems to think something over, then stands reluctantly.
“If you need anything, I’m just down the hall. You have my number, too. Want me to bring you some chocolates or something?”
“No, that’s okay. Thank you. Get yourself something nice though, for stopping in and checking on me. I appreciate you.” You dig around in the blankets for your rotom phone, then use it to send 1,000 Pokédollars to her. With your success in the battle zones, that amount of money was literally pocket change. Then, you swipe away your notifications, unfocusing your eyes so you don’t have to see who they’re from.
“Aww, you shouldn’t have! You’re the one lying here not feeling well, why’d you send me money for coffee?” That lovely crooked smile graces her features.
“Because,” you draw out the word for emphasis. “I’m grateful someone cares about me. Now go get a treat. I’m going back to sleep.” Lida dismisses herself sweetly, taking longer than normal in case you changed your mind.
Once your door clicks shut, you’re shrouded in peaceful, painful silence. It’s true that you weren’t feeling well, and it wasn’t true that you were okay. You’d neglected every physical need in the book. Even your frequent naps were unsatisfying, providing no deep sleep. The time passed, both crawling and flying by. Back in her own room, Lida sends texts to your search party, updating them that you’d been found and were safe. Definitely not happy, but safe.
By the morning on the fourth day, damn near everyone in Lumiose City had noticed your absence. You weren’t flying between rooftops or terrorizing battle zones, the city lacked a certain spark without you. Lida had just a couple errands to run, then she could practice for a few hours with Starmie and be back in time for dinner. Her tasks for the day went by easier than expected, so she had a little free time to stop and use that coffee money you’d sent her. She stopped by a street vendor to get a galette for you first, then made her way to Café Nouveau. Lida had barely stepped past the first table when a loud, frightening voice rang out.
“Lida!” It was Griselle, stomping towards her with her tray folded against her side. “(Y/N). Where is she?” Her tone was demanding, with a distinct singe. Lida jumped and cried out at the aggression.
“(Y/N)? Oh… she hasn’t been feeling well.”
“That isn’t what I asked.” Embers rising in her throat.
“The last time I saw her was last night, in her room. She was curled up in a bunch of blankets with some tissues next to her. She’s not sick, but…” Lida looked off to the side, unsure if she should continue.
“But, what?” There was no going back against someone like Griselle. She wanted to know, so she was going to know. One way or another.
“She… somebody hurt her. Not bad, just, she’s been really down.” Griselle’s eyes opened wide when Lida said you’d been hurt. That was all she needed to hear. Her serving platter was abandoned on a table, and she was storming in the direction of Hotel Z. “Agh- Griselle! Wait!” Lida stumbled for a moment, stuck between getting her well-earned coffee or chasing after the fiery woman now borderline running away from her. She chose the latter, jogging to catch up.
“Wait! Griselle! Just hang on.” Lida had caught up, breathing labored as she tried to get an explanation out. “It’s like a romance… thing. She didn’t get hurt physically. I think maybe she got dumped or something.”
“By who?” Griselle’s pace was unrelenting.
“I don’t- I don’t know if I should say.”
“Then I’ll ask her myself.” The two women had reached the tunnel leading to Hotel Z’s courtyard. Griselle was steadfast as she pushed through the main doors. Naveen sat at his usual spot, seemingly working on clothing sketches. His head rose at the intrusion, watching Griselle cross the lobby with Lida in tow. When the elevator doors shut, Naveen looked down and resumed his sketch. Shortly after, the elevator delivered Griselle and Lida to the second floor.
“Which one?” Still, that tone, burning and dedicated.
“202? Wait!“ Lida shouted as Griselle marched to your door. She knocked firmly, definitely loud enough for you to hear, but there was no answer.
“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” Her voice carried well, too. Still, no response. No movement, no noise, no nothing. “I’m going in.” Griselle says, half to Lida and half to herself. “(Y/N), I’m coming in!” She does just that, twisting the door handle and letting herself in. Griselle finds you in bed, sobbing. Lida follows close behind, standing a few steps away, as Griselle sits on the side of your bed, looking over you and speaking with a softness Lida had never heard. “Hey, hey, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?” You try to say no, but instead your body shakes with another sob. Griselle’s upper body is flat against you as she leans down to give you the best version of a hug she can. “You can tell me. I’m here.”
“It’s okay, really.” It was very obviously not okay. “Just a stupid fling.” Griselle’s face falls further the more she takes in your appearance. Whatever it was obviously meant much more to you than that. She watches you take a deep breath and wipe your tears. Then, you fall eerily silent.
“Are you feeling alright?” You looked zoned out, and your face was growing paler by the second. You shifted amidst your blankets to sit up.
“Y-yeah. I just- I don’t feel very good, I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You stand, the cool air of your room hitting your legs. Griselle’s instincts told her to grab on to you, so she did, prepared to guide you to the bathroom. Her instincts were right; just a few steps away from the bed, your legs give out completely. Griselle catches you, turning what could have been a major injury into a few bruises.
“Lida, call emergency services.” For once, her tone is controlled, level, focused. Lida nods, rotom phone flying up to do just that. Griselle’s gaze is on you, searching for signs or symptoms, any indication of what was plaguing you. Your face is barren of any color, eyes looking almost sunken in with the prominence of your eye bags. Your lips were pale and chapped. Who could’ve had this strong of an effect on you?
You woke up face-to-face to fiery, worried eyes, Lida’s voice barely registering in the background. Griselle sees your face shift into confusion, and fills you in, rather than allowing you spend precious energy on asking questions.
“Hey, you’re okay. You’re in your room. It seems like you passed out.” Griselle feels a spark of hope as some color returns to your cheeks. “There’ll be some people here to help soon, okay?” You nod and smile weakly at her. Lida steps over and crouches next to you with a freshly opened water bottle.
“Here. Drink slowly.” Lida’s voice is gentle as she holds out the bottle. Your hand shakes terribly trying to grab it, and Griselle places her hand over yours, patiently stabilizing your motions so you can drink. When you’re done, she takes the bottle from you and hands it back to Lida. “Have you been remembering to eat and drink?” You give Lida a guilty look, exhaustion and illness written all over your face. She holds out a galette for you, puffy, sweet, and perfectly crunchy on the outside. The thought alone had tears rolling down your cheeks again, and Griselle comforts you, grateful to see you eat and drink.
When the EMTs arrive, Griselle has a hard time letting them handle you. She backs off, but stays as close as possible while they work. After routine tests and gathering of information, you’re told that it’s most likely related to your lack of food and water intake. In your mind that tracks, and Lida dashes out the door for food and drinks. She would go to the store, grab your favorite snacks and water and supplements and some vitamin-rich foods, planning out the entire stash she’d leave in your room in the hopes that it would help. Once you’re given the medical clear, Griselle’s interrogating you about whoever would make such a terrible mistake as to hurt you. You explained the situation as best you could, trying to stay vague enough so she wouldn’t put it together.
“It was just a fling. It… ended before I wanted it to. That’s all.” Your brain worked hard to track every detail, but slowly you gave yourself away.
“I will find out who did this to you.”
“Gris, I promise it’s alright. That’s what I get for messing around in murky waters.”
“And something bit you. What was it?” Her tone is intense, eyes locked on you. Your face faltered, nervously biting your lip.
“I just- I guess I thought I meant more to him than I did. Wasn’t expecting poison to actually be poison.” Oops. Your eyes meet Griselle’s again, and you think maybe you’re in the clear, until anger begins to rise in her eyes again.
“Wait. Corbeau!? That’s your fling? I’m gonna drag that nasty loan shark through the fucking dirt.” Griselle launches off the side of the bed, standing tall with clenched fists. “Oh, I’m gonna…” Lida’s voice rings out as she rounds the corner, startled to see the raging flame in front of her.
“Uh- I got water, electrolyte mix, and a pack of those cookies you like. There’s a couple protein bars in there, too. Try to eat those first if you feel up to it.” She shyly moves past Griselle to hand you the bag.
“Lida?” Griselle’s voice is dangerous, smoking from the rage inside her.
“Y-yes?”
“Can you wait here for a bit? I have something to take care of.”
“Sure, of course, where are you-“
“I’m going to take out the fucking trash.” Griselle stomps out of the room, and you groan when you realize where she’s headed. There’s a pause as Lida silently questions where she’s going.
“She didn’t… she didn’t grab the garbage…”
Corbeau sat at his desk, idly enjoying a brief moment of down time. Just when he thinks it’s time to fancy himself a tea, a terrible ruckus starts downstairs. He shares a glance with Philippe, who then approaches the elevator. It’s a good thing he does, because when the doors open, a fiery hot and furious woman comes stepping out.
“Corbeau!” Griselle barks sharply, confident stride barely stopping when Philippe blocks her path. “Get the fuck out of my way.” She spits through gritted teeth. One well-placed punch in Philippe’s abdomen, and she’s stepping past him while he doubles over. It was a lucky hit, right in the diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him. Refusing to let any emotion show, Corbeau stayed firmly in his seat, looking up at Griselle as she stomps towards his desk.
“Can I help you?” It’s as if she doesn’t hear him.
“You’re going to tell me—right fucking now—what you did to (Y/N).” She’s rounding his desk, reaching for his collar. Corbeau jerks to the side, but she gets him by the tie and yanks him forward. “What did you do?” Her voice is dark and burning. His golden eyes narrow, testing her resolve.
“She’s a big girl. She can make her own choices.”
“Tell me what you chose to do, rat.”
“I complimented someone. Is that so bad?” The hand not gripping his tie raised quickly, palm open for a harsh slap. Her gratification is interrupted by a large hand wrapping around her arm, pulling her away from Corbeau. Her grip on his tie tightens, and Philippe puts himself between them, clearly having caught his breath. He hoists Griselle by her waist and tosses her over his shoulder, arms and legs thrashing wildly. She loses her grip on Corbeau’s tie, and Philippe adjusts his weight before ‘escorting’ her to the elevator.
“You bastard! She hasn’t eaten in four days. Four! There is nothing about you worth making her suffer!” Her words were harsh, targeted, and true. Griselle seethed with rage, hurling more insults as Corbeau simply straightened out his tie. The last thing she saw before the doors close was that vile man fixing his glasses.
Four days? That… lined up exactly with his grave mistake. He had assumed you would come back around, or that he’d see pictures of you in nightclubs, dancing to forget about him. But instead, you shut down. You. Beautiful, powerful, indomitable you. Corbeau’s stomach churned at the thought of you starving yourself because of him. He could fix this, right? Certainly he could fix this.
When Corbeau left his office, just a few minutes later, he found Philippe still fighting to get Griselle out of the building.
“Oh my- are you serious? This is where you’ve been? Get her out!” The grunts chip in, and eventually they’ve got Griselle by every limb. She’s fully surrounded by a circle of grunts as it takes them all to carry her out of the door, sideways, and Corbeau approaches his bodyguard. “We’re going to Hotel Z. Now.”
Lida did her best to comfort you, but you were beyond upset at the idea of confronting Corbeau. Just the thought of having to see him made your vision blurry. Despite her fury, Griselle’s presence reassured you, and you felt somewhat lonely in her absence, even with Lida next to you. You close your eyes and breathe deeply, vaguely aware of Lida’s hand rubbing your shoulder. Her head snaps up at the sound of the elevator and she gasps, chime heard just barely through your door.
“That must be Griselle! I’ll let her in.” Lida pats you twice, then stands and makes for the door. Your stomach clenches at the thoughts of what Griselle may have done. Though, it’s not like Corbeau didn’t deserve it. You’re brought to attention by a stark shift in Lida’s voice. “Oh- I don’t- yes, but- wait!” Your head lifts at the obvious fear, and then the worst thing happens. Corbeau rounds the corner, Philippe in tow. You can see Lida desperately trying to wave to you from behind the larger man. Corbeau pauses and looks at you while Lida forces her way to the front. She stands between you, arms stretched from her sides in a defensive stance.
“No! You can’t just- you don’t get to show up whenever you want!” Her voice is shaking with fear, and your heart warms at the obvious protective display. Corbeau leans to the side, peeking at you past Lida. He looks as if there’s something he wants to say. Any thought he had is interrupted, however, by the ding of the elevator and then the wall of fire bursting out. Griselle was furious, sprinting into your room and damn near tearing Philippe’s suit trying to reach the boss. You have a larger reaction to her presence, Corbeau notices. Philippe manages to pull Griselle off of him, and he drops her on the floor where she quickly recovers and takes a defensive stance next to Lida.
“Get the fuck out.” You’ve never heard such poison from her before. “Get OUT!” Her face is redder than her hair, voice tearing through the space of your room.
“Philippe, I’m sorry to do this to you again, but I’ll need you to remove her from the room.” His voice is metered, eyes still searching for you through your defense squad. He points at Lida, and you see her confidence waver. “You, too. Both of you. Out. I have something to discuss with your friend here.” Griselle steps forward, definitely with the intention of attacking Corbeau, and Philippe’s large hand is (respectfully) grabbing her apron, spinning her around, and forcing her into the hallway. Corbeau points at Lida again, but she stands firm.
“N-no! Go away!” Corbeau’s response to Lida’s declaration is a sigh, one hand reaching to lift his glasses, the other rubbing his eyes. He replaces them on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes dart to the hallway. Philippe is stuck in the doorway wrestling with a, still very loud, Griselle. He groans, simply walking past Lida to the side of your bed, and he sits down as if it were his. The door slams, a shake reverberating through the room, and Griselle’s furious screams are muffled ever so slightly.
“Good work. This one, too.”
“What?!” Lida’s eyes shoot open as the strong man hulks towards her. She ducks around him, hoping to avoid his steel grip, and makes for the door. “Okay, okay, I’m going. (Y/N)? I’m sorry, I’m gonna sit outside with Griselle, alright?” Her voice grows softer, before being fully drowned out by the fire in the hallway. Philippe pushes Lida through the doorway into Griselle, stopping her from using too aggressive of a tactic. You can hear her cussing out Philippe and Lida, door only doing so much to muffle her words. Philippe leans back against the door, plenty strong to keep it shut; frustrated at his work but grateful to give the boss a bit of distance.
“I don’t want to talk to you.” You’re refusing to look at Corbeau, and he slips off the bed, dropping down to meet your eyes with his.
“What happened?” His voice is soft, and it makes your heart ache. You bring your hands to your face and roll away.
“Nothing.”
“Darling-“
“Don’t call me that. I’m not anything special to you.” You almost feel the pang in his chest, and you move your hands to meet his gaze again. He looks hurt, brows pinched and mouth open slightly. “It’s like you just threw me away.” There’s a long pause as he takes in your expression.
“Is that how I made you feel?” His voice breaks, tough exterior crumbling. Your brows furrow in anger.
“How you made me feel? Don’t try to tell me that you care now.”
“I-… I’m sorry.” He audibly has to stop himself from calling you darling. “You were so angry the other day. I’ve never seen you like that before, and… I thought you wanted to be left alone. All of my calls went to voicemail, and I didn’t want to smother you.” You stare at him blankly, waiting for any other excuses he could conjure. “She’s not better than you at anything, you know.”
“Corbeau, stop.” You try to rub the emotional fatigue from your eyes, then let them land on him once again. He’s… he’s crying. You can see it welling up in his eyes, threatening to fall any second. He’s silent, but his eyes are pleading with you, and he seems almost shocked when a tear falls, wetting his cheek. He quickly wipes it, unsure of what to do with his unexpected display of emotion.
“I didn’t know.” His voice is almost a whisper. You furrow your brows, waiting for him to continue. “I didn’t know I was that important to you. You’re- you’re making yourself sick. Over me.” Now, Corbeau accepts his fate, removing his glasses and setting them on your nightstand. Your eyes follow his hands, and when they return to his face, there’s solid streams falling down his cheeks. Subconsciously, one of your hands frees itself from the blankets and reaches for him. He’s just out of your reach, and he seems hesitant to grab it. Are you sure? His eyes say, he personally wasn’t ready for you to forgive him. You curl your fingers a few times, motioning him closer. Corbeau reaches out for your hand like a sinner seeking salvation. His fingers delicately hold yours, gracing your skin as if touching you for the first time. His knees scoot him closer to the edge of the bed, until he’s able to coddle your entire forearm. Both of his hands hold yours, tentatively bringing your fingers to his lips. When your skin meets, you feel the wetness on his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” His voice is a whisper, lips moving against your fingers, up to your knuckles. “You’re wonderful. I couldn’t even imagine having eyes for someone else. You’re better than me, I hardly deserve to look up at you.” Corbeau’s motions on your hand continue as you process his words. “My love… my sweet girl.” He’s talking to himself now, thumbs brushing up and down as he worships your hand. “I’m not worth you suffering like this.”
“Then why am I?” His eyes flick up to yours.
“…Because I’m an asshole.”
“That’s right.” A small smile grows on your face, and Corbeau’s eyes glisten with something other than wetness.
“Can I fix this?” He’s so, so pretty. You nod, reaching out with your other hand to swipe your thumb across his cheek, wiping one of many tears.
“I’ve been waiting for you to fix it for four days.” Corbeau’s on you in an instant, arms digging through your cocoon to find you. He pulls you against him in a tight hug, inhaling deeply into your neck. You cringe, wishing he’d save this kind of proximity for after you’d showered. If you smelled bad, Corbeau gave no indication, arms only wrapping tighter as you squirm. Sweet words spill into your neck. I’m so sorry, I need you, I love you. Wait- what? He doesn’t seem to notice his accidental confession, praise unending. “What was that?” Corbeau pauses at the sound of your voice. There’s a moment of silence as he freezes in fear, realizing what has left his mouth. “I love you, too. Even if you are an asshole.” His body relaxes, despite your insult, and he hums against your neck, pressing soft kisses here and there. You wiggle, trying to get him to pull back. “Stop,” you laugh. “I’m stinky.”
“Stinky!?” He says loudly, the only word of your conversation that Philippe would’ve been able to hear. You snort and laugh harder, slapping his chest as he smiles wickedly. When your laughter slows, beautiful eyes looking up at him, Corbeau can’t help but dip down and place a kiss on your lips. It’s chaste and awakening, like a spring day. “Sorry, I should’ve asked first.” Curse this man, gentlemanly only when he wants to be.
“You’re an ass. I love you so much.” You look at each other for a moment, Corbeau’s gaze distinctly fond, registering a new silence from the hallway. Corbeau sits back, head turning in the direction of the door.
“Philippe?”
“Yes, boss.” The larger man’s voice reminded you of his presence; his tone is distinctly tired and disappointed. Usually he was so stoic, you have to push down another laugh at the obvious sound of his suffering. Griselle had almost gotten the best of him. It was his job to protect Corbeau, and he’d do so with his life, but he wasn’t expecting your friends to be so… tenacious.
“Let them in.” There are several seconds of silence as Philippe processes a few questions. ‘Are you sure?’ Hangs silently, but obviously, in the air. Of course he thinks it’s a bad idea, but he won’t be insubordinate. The door clicks open, Griselle immediately trying to get in. Philippe blocks the doorway with his body.
“She’s still mad, boss.”
“Of course she is. We’re going to talk things out.” Philippe groans, reaching his maximum level of bullshit for the day. Griselle’s harsh eyes meet steely ones, realizing she doesn’t have to fight anymore. She still wants to, but backs off to prevent more conflict, not because she cares about anything Corbeau has to say.
“Fine. Spit it out, loser. And get away from her.” She takes one step towards the bed, and Philippe clears his throat. Griselle stops, hands clenching into fists. Corbeau turns to face her, but doesn’t stand from the bed.
“I made a mistake. A terrible mistake. I’m here to atone for my actions. First,” He turns back around to face you. “To my love, I’m sorry. You are immaculate, and I am deeply ashamed of myself for making you feel otherwise. I couldn’t bear a life without you. Next, to your friends,” His eyes are back on Griselle. “I’m sorry. I hurt your friend, and she’s suffered because of me. I will not ask for forgiveness, it would be unfair of me to expect that. I only ask that you give me another chance with her… I long to bring her peace.” His hand rests gently on your leg. “And finally, to Philippe, I’m sorry. I’ve put you through a lot today. It’s your job to protect me, not clean up my messes. I’m a stronger man with your support.” Though the room is still thoroughly upset with Corbeau’s actions, the tension eases at his genuine apologies. Griselle isn’t ready to give up, you can see it in her eyes.
“It’s alright, I promise.” Your voice is gentle. Corbeau turns to look at you, but sees you’re looking at the fiery woman instead.
“I’ll listen to you, (Y/N), but if you-“ She points at Corbeau with a hiss, “ever hurt her again. I will find you. I will hunt you down. And I will make you bleed. No one has ever hunted your ass like I will, mafia man. Remember that.” Corbeau nods, otherwise unmoving, hand staying on you. “Ugh. (Y/N), I love you, but I can’t be around this guy. We’ll talk later, okay?” You thank her, smiling and waving as Griselle dismisses herself. She’s silent until she reaches the hallway, where she debriefs Lida at full volume. Philippe remains posted in your room, prepared for another outburst.
“Philippe, would you mind waiting in the hallway? I’ll be just a moment.” The larger man sighs, nods, and begrudgingly heads for the hallway, which still contained the source of his stress. When your room is just you two, Corbeau’s attention returns to you. In an instant, his hands are cupping your cheeks, kissing you gently. It’s slow, tentative, savoring you like a finite resource. He hums against you, having unintentionally fueled his own desire. He pulls away, golden eyes scanning your features.
“I’m so sorry, my love.” His words are breathy; each time he says sorry, it’s as if he’s apologizing for the first time. Showing you the extent of his regret and dedication, his loyalty overriding anything his stupid mouth could say.
“I know. Just don’t do that shit again.” His pupils dilate at the sound of your familiar sass. He’s looking at you like there’s nothing else in this world he needs—or even wants—to see. You watch as he gets more and more lost in your features.
“Can I still call you darling?” His voice is low now, teasing you from a very close distance. You break into a wide smile and try to look away from him. An addictive chuckle leaves him, and he crawls over you, pressing his forearms on either side of your head.
“If you have to.” His lips are on yours again, giving you slow, lingering kisses. It’s enough to warm your chest and the area between your legs. To your disappointment, he pulls away, gaze as fond as ever.
“Let me take you out tonight. I could write you a novel full of all the reasons I love you, but there are other ways I would like to demonstrate my adoration.” He pauses for a moment, gauging your reaction. “Tonight?”
“Tonight.” You confirm, and Corbeau smiles, leaving one last kiss on your lips. He stands, golden eyes fond and grateful, and he dismisses himself, leaving you feeling better than you had in several days. You could force down food and water, but this was a different need, something that boosted your morale.
In his absence, Griselle shoves her way into your room again with Lida in tow. She’s next to you in an instant, searching for your hands as well as your face.
“Are you okay?” That’s all Griselle can get out, but several questions lay just beyond her lips.
“Yes, Gris. I promise. I’m okay.” She seems relieved at your words, making a bit of room for Lida to sit by you as well.
“What about Corbeau?” Lida asks tentatively, aware of its potentially volatile answer.
“We’re going out tonight.” You say dreamily, feeling the same flutters in your chest that you felt before he’d messed up. Griselle’s eyes open wide and she freezes, staring straight at you. You get a sense of very strong disapproval.
“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Yep, Griselle did not like that.
——————
This is my first time writing for Griselle!!! Again, thank you @mystiquefern for the wonderful prompt. I hope you enjoy ❤️
doubly funny that I saw a compilation of all the corporate accounts like "aw thanks elmo, we're doing well" meanwhile all the flesh and blood real human people are extremely not okay
