you looked up from your place on the rubber mat through furrowed brows, beads of sweat dripping into your line of vision. the burn of your aching muscles under the weight of the dumbbells you held encouraged your irritation, dropping them with a dramatic thud after completing your set. the sound of hefty metal hitting the ground nearly drowned out your aggravated "excuse me?"
the mint-haired man before you refused to meet your gaze, however, his hazel eyes decoding the series of messages blipping across his screen. after a few moments of silence, he reached down and picked up the navy blue Hydroflask that rested by his ankle and placed it on the bench beside you. your clammy fingers brushed against the countless stickers that plastered its tin walls, bubbles of glossy white paper concealing dents and scuffs that decorated the bottle. your eyes lingered on the "King of Kendo" sticker you'd gifted him last winter, your chest swelling with pride at the acknowledgment of your corny sentiment.
"the witch is asking if we wanna go to a White Lies themed party tonight and 'get shackled'" Zoro said casually, dropping his air quotes to silently gesture for his bottle back. after wiping your mouth on your sleeve, you relented, Zoro's bronze hands clasping around the item in a way that made him look childish. the gentle affection that bubbled in your chest died down into a simmer as you watched rosy lips latch onto the rim, right where yours had been. the sight of his jaw working around the cubes of ice that filled his cheeks had your mouth reverting to its pesky dehydration.
"stop calling her that!" you exclaimed, swatting your hand to the side of his head. as if he sensed your attack, Zoro dodged it effortlessly, raising his forearms to block any further horseplay. the disapproval of your exhausted muscles put your slapping match on hold, deciding it would be best to call it a day and head home if you were to attend the party. "we both know that she's not asking us any more than she's telling us we're going."
"yeah whatever," Zoro huffed, grunting as he stood and slung your gym bag over his shoulder. you cringed internally as he adjusted the thick fabric against his sweaty skin, sure that its spotty texture would leave a mark. Zoro, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind and waited patiently for you to rack the rest of your equipment. "need me to walk you back?"
you chuckled softly at his offer, cheeks warming into a dusty pink as you attempted to hold eye contact. it was no secret that you had fallen for your best friend — in fact, the whole crew knew before you could admit it to yourself. including Zoro. and that was the part that drove you crazy.
you confessed your feelings right before winter break at the campus bus stop. Zoro had been kind enough to help you load your bags into the Uber, insisting that he had nothing better to do while he waited for his "psycho older sister" to pick him up. it was a dreary afternoon, the predicted light shower of rain turning into a raging storm within minutes. the two of you sought refuge under the small black umbrella you packed, bodies drenched and pressed against each other for warmth. it was perfect. you wanted to tell him, wanted to rip the bandaid off and finally rid your skin of the sticky guilt it left behind. whether it was under the scalding stream of your dorm showerhead, or in the mirror before bed, you rehearsed your monologue for the right time.
the way your heart raced up into your throat as the heartfelt words left your lips had been branded into your memory. but the flash of a guilty sadness that struck those captivating hazel eyes quickly turned the memory sour, Zoro's lighthearted rejection burning through your chest.
"[y/n]...i can't. i'm sorry but i'm just figuring things out right now..."
those were the last words you remember before getting into the Uber, blinking away the fusion of tears and rainwater that stung your eyes. the fear of changing the trajectory of your relationship hung over your head like a dagger, and when he couldn't even face you, the blade dropped straight into your core.
but that day was in the past, and after a long — and awkward — winter break, the two of you rekindled. although you aren't entirely over Zoro, you've made peace with the bittersweet fact that this crush will remain unrequited. a small part of you wants to believe that this will be a funny memory far into the future. a memory that you share in the dim light of your bedroom surrounded by your children, reminiscing on the "should've, could've, would've's" of your college years.
deep in the labyrinth of your subconscious, words rested on the verge of your mind, threatening to spill over if you weren't careful. the weight of such a reality terrified you, careful not to release them even in the loneliness of the dark. it was the acceptance that no amount of growth could fill the void that Roronoa Zoro does.
but the risk of jeopardizing your relationship a second time discouraged you from unraveling the truth. it was either having Zoro in your life forever or not at all — all or nothing. so you sucked it up and pushed him away, wearing a taunting smile before removing your bag from his shoulder and putting it on.
"thanks, but i think if i took you up on that offer we'd never make it to the party. unlike you, i'm trying to stay on Nami's good side."
you caught a glimpse of Zoro's scowl before turning on your heels and making the journey to your apartment.
...
the muffled beat of Lil Yachty's drive ME crazy! rumbled against the front door of Nami's apartment, her bubbly laughter harmonizing with the chorus. various hoots and whoops could be heard from inside, leading you to assume that the pregame has already begun.
you slipped inside, creaking the door open gently and peaking your head in before announcing your arrival. everyone was gathered around the shared dining room table, the chestnut table top littered with neon colored shot glasses and sharpies. Nami and Vivi had been the first to spot you, running over and pulling you into their embrace. the smell of Nami's saccharine perfume and the jingle of Vivi's golden bangles flooded your senses, well-manicured hands hauling you to the rest of the group.
“what do y'all have going on here?" you asked, picking up a blank white t-shirt and curiously checking the size.
"[y/n]!! we're making our white lies shirts! you have to hurry up and make yours — i wanna see what your lie is!" Luffy exclaimed, practically bouncing on his tip-toes before tackling you into a bear hug.
you caught the man effortlessly while simultaneously accepting a shot glass from Sanji, its contents unknown under the bright green plastic’s reflection.
"here you are, love. you might wanna start drinking now if you're gonna be around this monkey all night," Sanji said, ruffling the dark waves that decorated the top of Luffy's head.
you accepted the shot delightedly, subtly bringing the rim to your nose to check what kind of alcohol it was. the smell of sickeningly sweet vodka stung your nose before throwing it back, cringing as you fought the burn creeping down your throat. for the first time since arriving, you noticed that everyone had already been wearing or decorating their shirts. thick, black stripes of marker bled into obscure yet hilarious lies perfectly catered to each of your friends. you read the white lie plastered on Sanji's shirt as you scanned his torso:
"'i don't have commitment issues?'" you chuckled, fingers snaking their way under the hem and twisting the fabric softly. "is that so? and here i thought i had a chance."
it was fun flirting with Sanji, coy words spilling from your lips like honey. Sanji seemed to enjoy it too, feeding the alluring flame with equal fervor. but under all the suggestive glances and remarks, there was a mutual understanding that this would never exceed the bounds of playful flirting. and the reason? well, it was — quite literally — written all over him.
"while i do love the attention, my dear, women scare the absolute shit out of me," Sanji answered truthfully, a soft laugh escaping his lips. his breath smelled of nicotine and whiskey, an intoxicating combination that made your head spin. the heavy weight of combat boots thumping toward you pulled your attention from the blond ahead, his scowl addressing the looming figure approaching. "ugh, what do you want now?"
Zoro wore a strange look, eyes trained onto the blond man menacingly as he casually sipped from the neck of his beer. “nothin’, just making sure you don’t scare her off.”
was Zoro being… possessive? no, absolutely not. sure the cook wound him up like a clockwork toy, but Zoro would never get so worked up over casual flirting. especially since he’s seen it countless times.
right?
Sanji couldn’t help the incredulous laughter that rumbled from his chest, “whoa-ho-ho there, buddy! if there’s anything i’m doing, it’s saving sweet [y/n] from a nasty heartbreaking thug like you!"
the charming blue of Sanji's eyes transformed into a challenging glare, mischief and spite swimming in tandem before he took a step forward, "it’ll do her good showing her there’s at least someone who cares.”
the typical scuffle between men now steered into uncharted waters, tension coating the room in a heavy fog. you felt the atmosphere of the room shift as curious eyes bore into the side of your face. there was an undeniable truth to Sanji’s words — and they knew that. frustration and rage simmered behind Zoro’s eyes, the warm emerald shape shifting to a cool steel sharp enough to kill a man. ropes of thick muscle rippled beneath the thin bronze skin of Zoro’s jaw, ready to fire an equally low blow. your heart raced into your throat, swallowing it down thickly as you wished for this pointless argument to end.
you concealed your embarrassment under a forced chuckle, stepping between the two before things escalated further.
“ladies, ladies! there will be plenty of me to go around tonight,” you teased. but your eyes flared in Sanji’s direction, telepathically communicating your anger at his snide comment. that was low, even for you.
Sanji received the message and bowed in apology, taking a step back and cooly making his way to the patio door to finish his smoke. the departure of wavy blond hair gave you a chance to steel yourself before facing Zoro, hoping the uneasy blush would fade in time.
but that plan went straight out the window the moment you laid your eyes on him. Zoro had cut the sleeves off the cheap white tee, exposing his broad shoulders and incredibly large biceps. his torso had been partially exposed as well, lean muscle cascading down into the dips of his waist. you could see the muscle of his abs sculpted beneath the sheer fabric, the slightly-cropped hem earning you a glance at a forest-green happy trail as he raised his bottle to his mouth.
"'i'm never drinking again'. you sure you don't wanna add that you aren't a manwhore either?" you quipped, folding your arms over your chest as your eyes indulgently traced his silhouette.
"ha ha, you're just jealous your guns aren't as huge as mine," Zoro said, making it a point to flex his large arms in your direction.
"oh gag me, no one wants to see those beasts," you scoffed, rolling your eyes dramatically. "its borderline inhumane subjecting us to such torment."
"oh yeah? that drool on your lip begs to differ," Zoro smirked, playfully gesturing to clean the imaginary spit from his bottom lip. "need me to get it for you?"
"what i need is for you to shut up and get me a drink," you snarled, hoping your intimidating nature would hide the flustered blush creeping up the side of your neck. it didn't.
Zoro couldn't help but laugh, his pearly canines flashing under the dim light of Nami's dining room lamp. "what's your poison?"
"anything but that nasty shit you drink," you said, poking a firm finger into the valley between his pecs before shooing him off. “time’s a-wasting, sweet thing!”
…
"so, remind me why you have four pairs of kinky handcuffs laid out on the couch again?" you giggled, eyeing the suspicious items over the rim of your cup.
"it's for 'shackles', silly!" Nami exclaimed, slinging an arm over your exposed shoulders. "all of us are gonna be handcuffed to a partner tonight and the only way you can be freed is if you finish an entire bottle of your liquor of choice."
"wait, we have to finish the entire bottle?!" Usopp gawked, shooting a concerned glare your direction. "why the hell are we pregaming then? do you want me to drop dead in the street!?"
"relax, lightweight," Sanji said, asserting his place into the conversation with a spark of his lighter. "i'm not drinking tonight so i'll be the one making sure all of you get home safe."
"oh! why don't we all just come back here and have a huge sleepover afterwards!" Luffy shouted, his enthusiasm slightly muffled under the copious amounts of meat and chips filling his mouth. the sight of mashed food spilling off his tongue sent shivers down your spine, your stomach turning as you abandoned the rest of your drink on the table.
"like hell! no way i'm takin' care of you goons tomorrow morning!" Nami said, quickly snatching the party sized bag of Lays from Luffy's hands and shoving them in the cabinet by the fridge. "i plan on getting fucked up tonight so there's no way i'm babysitting you people in my house. and don't you dare rope my girlfriend into this, either! she's not taking care of anyone besides me."
the blue haired woman beside her flushed, lacing her fingers delicately with Nami's. "don't worry babe, they would've been on their own anyway."
"awww Nami! you're no fun," Luffy pouted, reaching for another buffalo wing to ease his sorrow. "and here i thought a sleepover would do me good after the heartbreak i experienced tonight."
you flashed a concerned glance to the wild-haired boy behind the counter, watching his bottom lip jut out dramatically with every chew. "what happened earlier, Luffy? is everything okay?"
"ignore him, he's just dramatic," Nami said, rolling her eyes.
still not satisfied with that answer, you turned to the raven haired woman sitting quietly on the couch, who had been observing the situation in between paragraphs of her novel. her piercing blue eyes met yours before chuckling softly, using her slender fingers as a bookmark before setting it in her lap.
"Luffy was upset earlier because the liquor store didn't carry the Lebron James Hennessy," Robin stated matter-of-factly, fixing her attention back to the novel in her hands.
Luffy groaned from across the room as Zoro howled in laughter, slapping a firm hand on his back. "like how could he stand there with a straight face and deny me the liquid gold produced from the King himself?! it's an outburst!"
Usopp leaned in close to Luffy's ear, muttering softly before he could continue, "it's 'outrage', Luffy."
"oh yeah — an outrage! and Usopp said my shirt sucked earlier so i'm still mad about that too!"
"i did not!" Usopp shrieked, "i said that the likelihood of people taking the words 'meat is disgusting' the wrong way is very high! some freaky frat dude is gonna think you're gay, Luffy."
Luffy puffed his chest and threw the clean chicken bone blindly over his shoulder, "and what's wrong with that? love is love, man — i got friends in the B-L-T! i mean, look at Nami and Sanji!"
the blond and redhead whipped their heads around at the same time, barking a defensive "hey!" and "that's not what its called" over their shoulders. Zoro nearly doubled over in laughter, clutching his stomach as the man went on. you couldn't help the laughter that erupted from your throat, tears brimming your eyes as you watched the interaction unfold.
"okay! okay!" you pleaded, attempting to control your breathing before continuing, "can we please finish explaining the game before Zoro pisses himself over there?"
shaking her head to disguise the smile creeping across her cheeks, Nami sauntered over to the couch and continued with the rules, "right, everyone listen up! so, each of you will be paired up and choose a bottle of alcohol to share — it's all on the counter over there. you must not, under any circumstances, take off the handcuffs or else you forfeit the game."
"wait," Zoro said, raising a hand into the air to nab the redhead's attention. "what if we gotta take a piss or something? the other person just has to...stand there and watch?"
nerves jumbled at the base of your gut, realizing that this game was a lot more intimate than you thought. am i in way over my head? what if i'm shackled to Zoro, i don't wanna see all that! well, i do but that's not entirely the point—
"or you can look away like a normal person!" Sanji scolded, his voice dragging you out from a rabbit hole you were not ready to face. "and they call me the pervert."
"cause you are, shit cook—!"
"anyways! if you forfeit the game, or are the last pair standing, you lose. losers are subject to a group dare and have to carry it out — them's the rules. any objections?"
"so..." you began, directing your attention to the half gallon-sized bottles filled with an ambiguous liquid. "are we attempting to finish borgs tonight?"
a spark of realization struck Nami's whiskey-colored eyes, gasping as if she just remembered an important detail. "oh, right! so this game is traditionally played with wine or champagne, but since we're friends with Zoro — the man with the highest alcohol tolerance on this side of the Mississippi — i figured we could play with soju since its a little stronger. each bottle over there has two bottles of soju mixed with a lemonade-thingy Sanji made and a few shots of vodka for good measure."
Nami's mischievous cackle rang as your eyes widened, excitement and apprehension mingling to bring a chill down your spine. the words 'good measure' sure as hell sounded a lot like the woman was mapping out your demise, but that nasty hangover would be a problem for tomorrow.
"right..." you said, making your way over to select your flavor of soju for the night when a sudden wave of realization washed over you. "so, who's pairing up with who?"
"i call Usopp!" Luffy chimed in, linking arms with the man's dark muscle beside him. Usopp simply shrugged, muttering something under his breath about not really having a choice.
"you kids can count me out since i won't be drinking," Sanji rasped, blowing a thick stream of cigarette smoke out of the kitchen window. "wouldn't have been even with me playing anyway."
Nami snaked an arm around Vivi's waist, pulling her in for a chaste kiss before facing the group again, "the couples remain together as well, so me and Vivi and Franky and Robin are pairs. that just leaves you and Zoro, my sweet friend."
the quick wink Nami hurled in your direction could have easily been mistaken as a trick of the light. that is, if you weren't already familiar with the woman's strange match-maker tactics. your chest tightened under her wicked gaze, the overwhelming feeling of being seen blooming deep in your gut. you shrugged off her intentions, however, nonchalantly picking up a gallon labeled "PEACH". you chuckled at the lifeless plastic before you, knowing very well that Zoro would hate it's sweet flavor.
too bad, you thought to yourself.
"please don't tell me you picked the sweetest one," Zoro grumbled from behind you, his body heat radiating against the exposed skin of your shoulders. the beer he had been drinking periodically added a heavy rasp to his voice that hadn't been there before, his speech slow and smooth as he inched closer.
you shuddered instinctively, swiftly redirecting your attention to bumping the gallon into his chest. "it's peach, jackass — probably the least sweet flavor here."
Zoro's hazel eyes narrowed suspiciously, flickering from the bottle against his chest back to you. "yeah right, that shit is gonna be disgusting."
frustration simmered into a boil as you watched Zoro complain, suddenly self-conscious about your choice, "have you ever tried not bitching for once in your life? let's just drink the damn liquor and get this game over with."
Zoro smiled fondly as he turned to ask Nami for the hot pink cuffs.
...
the party turns out to be located at Yamato's place, a long time friend of Luffy and his older brother, Ace. you'd met him once before, briefly at Luffy's house over the summer while his family held a small barbecue-get together. from what you remembered the man was extremely charming, his bubbly personality making him very approachable. Yamato had talked your ear off about his dreams to see the world, wishing to save up enough money on his own to study abroad. the conversation was enlightening — different than the meaningless chatter you usually shared with fellow students on your campus. but this wasn't just any student, it was a friend of Luffy's, and you held his judgement of others to a high regard.
"you guys made it!" Yamato cheered, rushing over to pick up Luffy and spin him around. the younger man looked so tiny against Yamato's large frame, his muscles nearly swallowing him whole. Luffy giggled all the while, babbling on about his white lie and brought up Usopp's predicament once more.
"nah kid, your lie is great! you should see your brother's — now that's a real looker."
Luffy's eyes sparkled with wonder, clawing his way down from Yamato's shoulders — when did he even get up there? — and landing on his heels, "oo! oo! i wanna see it! did he write about the time he got arrested for lighting fireworks in Wal-Mart?!"
his enthusiasm earned a hearty laugh from Yamato, patting him hard on the back as he wiped a tear, "ya'll gotta come on in and find out! seriously, make yourselves at home!"
the rest of your crew followed the man's lead, entering cautiously through the foyer and around the large crowds of people. a heavier set man was commanding the DJ set out back, his long blonde hair and dark lipstick especially vibrant under the fluorescent strobe lights. you had heard somewhere that he was a big deal when it came to parties and music, but the obnoxiously loud base and his unnecessary ad libs made you scowl, wishing they'd play something else.
thin, blunt metal suddenly dug into the inside of your wrist, discomfort radiating all the way up to your elbow. you hissed in pain as you whipped your head around, making eye contact with a very uncomfortable Zoro.
"what?" he asked, brows furrowing in a way that made his features sharp under the dim lights.
"can you try and be a little more careful? you can't just wave my hand around whenever you please!" you growled, angrily gesturing to your chained wrists.
"it's not my fault you got frail wrists," he scoffed, bringing the concoction to his lips. Zoro held back a gag as he choked down the liquid, scowling at how "sweet" it was. "this shit fucking sucks, no way i'm getting drunk off this."
"then give it to me so i don't have to hear your whining," you said, snatching the bottle and chugging for a few seconds. to your surprise, the alcohol's peachy bitterness had been a pleasant touch to the refreshing lemonade Sanji prepared as a mixer.
you smirked, a sarcastic remark about how you could handle your liquor better than Zoro danced on the tip of your tongue before dying in an instant. the look in Zoro's eyes was akin to adoration, his features softening as he gazed at you. you brushed it off as a drunken hallucination, convincing yourself that the tingling sensation spreading to the nape of your neck had taken your vision out of focus.
a fleeting pang of sadness ached in your chest as a small part of you yearned for that look to be real — for that look to really mean something. but you squashed that thought as fast as it came, burying it down deep to unpack at another time. right now you were at a party with all your friends, playing a stupid game that would make them happy. and by the looks of their bottles, you and Zoro were losing.
a surge of competitive adrenaline washed over you, steeling your stomach in preparation for taking another long drink. a firm hand came to snatch the bottle back, hazel eyes crazed and confused. "are you crazy?! what are you chugging it for, we got all night to drink this shit."
your focused glare sparked challenge inside of Zoro's chest, a look he knew all too well. whether you were preparing for a grueling workout or a rigorous exam, you were in the zone — and it was very hard to shake that look from your eyes. "those son's a' bitches are gonna beat us if we don't lock in, Zoro. and i don't know about you, but i don't exactly want to be on the other end of a dare given by Luffy and Nami. do you?"
Zoro chewed the inside of his lip, an effort to hide the smile creeping across his face. he pried the bottle from your tight grasp, bringing it to his lips and taking a long drink without breaking eye contact. the bob of his Adam's apple with every swallow was mesmerizing under the neon lights, vibrant hues of green and violet accentuating the undertones of his tan skin. Zoro let out a refreshing ahh sound, his voice low and raspy, "fuck no."
...
you tried your hardest to ignore the sharp sting of your full bladder, but with every step and stumble in your tipsy state, the need to relieve yourself became unbearable. the sound of sloshing liquid beside you was no help either, a bitter reminder that you had a game to win. your shared concoction had been reduced to three-quarters of it's original volume, the liquor waging a war within your body as the mediums clashed.
Zoro noticed the shift in your demeanor almost immediately. you were no longer the friendly girl complimenting every stranger you passed by, bubbly laughter carrying itself like a melody through the crowd. you stared at the floor and fidgeted, constantly lost in thought with a dreadful look on your face.
"what's the matter?" Zoro asked, his voice deep with concern. it wasn't often that Zoro got soft, but when he did, he was able to pry enough information out of you to help you fix what needed to be. "[y/n], look at me. i know something's wrong."
you raised your gaze reluctantly, cheeks burning with embarrassment as you swallowed your pride. there was no way you could keep up the act any longer — if you didn't find a bathroom soon, things were about to get really weird and gross fast.
"'ave to pee, Zoro," you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.
Zoro sighed heavily before leaning into your ear, his concern easily confused for frustration. "you have to speak up, i can't hear you."
his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin around your ears, causing you to tremble slightly before raising your voice, "i have to pee!"
your shift in volume prompted Zoro to jerk his head back in surprise, rubbing his ear before moving to lead you through the sea of people, "okay then let's go."
his willingness to accompany you in the bathroom confused you, wondering if he had even heard you right. "i said i have to pee, Zoro! you can't exactly wait outside the bathroom for me if we're chained together."
Zoro glanced over his shoulder, his face almost entirely void of emotion before responding, "i know, but we don't have any other choice so i'll just sit there. i'm not gonna watch you if that's what you're so worried about."
you groaned as that hot flush prickled the plush skin of your face returned, "please don't say it. i don't even want that thought in your head!"
the abhorrent remix of an eighties song almost concealed the warm chuckle that escaped Zoro's lips, his shoulders shaking with every laugh. you watched the way Zoro navigated swiftly through the crowd, his usually rigid muscles liquifying under the soft moonlight. Zoro's back profile was a rare sight — an urban legend for most. he was the type to stay behind, surveying from afar. you'd teased him about being a wallflower, wondering why he never joined in on the fun his friends seemed to attract.
"it's easier to keep an eye on all of you from back here."
his words back then sounded authoritarian, making your group out to be children who needed to be kept on a tight leash. but now that you've grown to understand him, Zoro was showing you his way of caring. he's incredibly loyal, willing to suspend his own personal enjoyment to prioritize his friends.
a nauseating sense of fondness bloomed in the pit of your stomach, its pesky vines snaking their way up to your chest and wrapping around your heart. the sight of a battered doorframe halted the racing of your traitorous heart, relief quickly trading its place. you didn't even bother knocking, slamming your weight into the wood and dragging your feet into the cramped space.
you nearly dropped your black short-shorts to the floor when you realized you weren't alone, Zoro's strong presence looming over you. hazel eyes looked everywhere but at you, too busy committing every chip and crack in the wall's white paint to memory. when he noticed you weren't doing what needed to be done, he slowly met your fuming eyes.
"what?" he asked, entirely oblivious to your predicament. "you said you had to go right? the hell are you waiting for?"
"i can't just pee with you here! cover your ears or turn the water on or something!"
Zoro rolled his eyes, side-stepping to the sink so he could turn the water on without dragging you with him. he turned to face the shower, resting his hips on the countertop as he fiddled impatiently with your shared bottle. the surge of running water eased your mind, allowing you to let go and relieve yourself. the creeping buzz you'd felt all night suddenly spilled over into the bounds of intoxication, giggling to yourself as you rested your chin on your free hand.
you felt Zoro shift beside you, yet his posture remained straight ahead. his voice was laced with a smile, bubbly tipsiness getting the better of him as well. "are you laughing?"
you nodded foolishly, forgetting that he couldn't see you. "mhm! people could've been fucking in here and i just barged right in."
"i was worried that would happen but you moved so fast i couldn't stop you if i wanted to," he snorted, taking a swig from the bottle's neck. "can i turn around now?"
Zoro's uncharacteristically soft voice made your heart swell, smiling to yourself as you swayed drunkenly on the toilet seat. something about being in a bathroom after a few drinks just seems to accelerate the drunken process.
you sighed softly, shaking your head in protest, "'m okay."
then after a beat of silence: "you're sweet, Zo. have i ever told you that?"
Zoro stood slightly taller as his muscles tensed, breath hitching slightly before chortling, "not really, you just tell me how much of a pain in the ass i am."
"hmm," you hummed smiling, eyes fluttering shut. "two things can be true at once, as they say."
you stood to pull your bottoms up, only managing your panties before swaying towards the wall. brawny hands found their way to your waist, shifting you gently to lean against the cool tile of the countertop. Zoro's thumbs dug into the soft flesh of your hips as he held you up, lowering himself to your eye level.
"you okay?" he asked, expression serious as he searched for an answer in your eyes, worried you wouldn't be able to provide one yourself. his shoulders relaxed when a gentle smile spread across your lips, heavy lidded eyes reassuring him.
"yes, thank you," you managed before attempting to bend down and pull your shorts back up to your hips. Zoro's hand met yours, halting you into a state of shock as you relented, a curious eye kept on his crown of green hair.
"just let me do it, yeah?" he offered, gaze unsure but entirely willing as he thumbed the denim waistband pooled at your ankles. the sight of him kneeling before you sent a shiver down your spine, arousal stirring in your belly as you felt his breath on your exposed skin. it almost felt purposeful; the way he kept his voice smooth and low, easing you into submission. you had no choice but to oblige, nodding slowly as you swallowed the lump in your throat. slick rosy lips curved into a smirk as he slid your shorts up, aware of his hand placement as he carefully buttoned them up.
oh, the things you'd do for him to strip those off.
"thank you," you mumbled, turning your back to him to wash your hands. which proved to be, once again, difficult since you were cuffed together. Zoro offered his help once more but you shrugged him off, muttering something about being a “big girl”.
the clearing of Zoro's throat and a gentle tug on your shackled wrist stopped you in your tracks, your hand pausing over the doorknob. uncertainty filled the air as you turned to meet his gaze, waiting for an explanation.
"your makeup," he clarified guiding you back to the sink. "you'd kill me if you knew i let you leave here without fixing that."
"you sure wanna keep me in this bathroom," you teased, bringing a daring hand up to tinker with the three golden earrings dangling from his earlobe. "you runnin' from someone, Roronoa?"
"yeah, you in the future when you see your fucked up makeup in all the pictures." Zoro smiled, gesturing for you to turn around and take a look in the mirror.
a disgruntled cry erupted from your throat as you looked in the mirror. you tugged harshly at the thin skin around your eyes, black eyeliner and mascara smudged into a muddy mess. "how did this happen?!"
running water hissed into the scuffed porcelain of the sink. Zoro's calloused fingers holding a q-tip under the stream. his shackled hand patted the free space of the counter top, cheap metal clinking together as he motioned for you to climb on top. you obeyed, using the toilet seat as leverage to carefully hoist yourself up. a soothing hand rested beneath your chin, the sharp green of his eyes looking into yours before bringing the cold cotton to your face.
a few moments of stiff silence passed before you eased the weight of your face into his rough palm, lips mushing together as you asked "how do you know about all this stuff?"
Zoro's rosy lips pulled into a fond smile as he blotted the area dry, peachy breath brushing over your nose. "you pick up on a thing or two growing up with an older sister. plus, Nami taught me how to properly fix her makeup after she was in a bind similar to this one."
you hummed in acknowledgment, silently thanking Nami for her persistence as you opened your purse. after rummaging through the clutter, you fished out the lip and eyeliner and handed them to Zoro. to your surprise, he was extremely precise — the creamy black makeup gliding effortlessly across your lash line without poking you once. it was impressive, to say the least.
"you really know your shit," you complimented, giggling at your own reflection in the mirror. dilated pupils shifted to Zoro's gaze piercing into yours, his arms caging you in as he braced his arms on the countertop.
and there it was again — that bitter sadness that sunk to the pit of your stomach when you caught that glimmer in his eyes. it infuriated you, that knowing glance made you feel like you were the punch line of an inside joke. it was a piece of Zoro's puzzle you couldn't match, a piece possessing an edge larger and sharper than the shape you had in mind. you wanted to tear it apart and start over to figure out where it all went wrong. you wanted to figure out what you were missing.
“yeah well i ain’t done yet. now hold still,” Zoro said, his voice much lighter as he guided your face back towards his.
calloused fingers tilted your chin upwards as the smell of waxy, stale wood flooded your senses. despite his drunken state, Zoro’s hands remained completely still, effortlessly applying the nude colored makeup onto your lips.
the air became thick as your breaths mingled, each exhale more timid than the last. you couldn’t help but notice how unbelievably beautiful Zoro was — the tiny freckles that hid just beneath the surface of his tan skin, the fullness of his lips, the tapered edges of his nose and jaw. he was truly irresistible, your eager heart racing as you basked in everything that was Zoro.
shivers cascaded down your back as the scent of his musky cologne consumed you. there was no way to stop the arousal from pooling low in your stomach, unrelenting need simmering into a boil. you hadn’t noticed when Zoro set the lipliner down on the counter until a firm hand rested on your waist. thick fingers pressed into the plush of your back as he drew you in, pausing just before meeting your lips.
the metal of his belt buckle gently brushing against your cunt made for a delicious friction you were helpless to chase. you slowly rutted your hips into his, moaning sweetly as your eyes fluttered shut.
“thought i told you to stay still,” Zoro murmured, his breath hot against the delicate skin of your lips.
“what’re you, scared?” you teased breathlessly, inching closer to chase that high once more. your free hand reached its way up to the nape of his neck, flushed skin burning under your touch. the clammy skin of your fingertips bristled through spiky tufts of green hair as you pulled him dangerously close; close enough to taste if you pushed just a little further...
"c'mon Zo, let me make you feel good..." you purred, hooking your shackled hand through the loops of his jeans. Zoro hissed in discomfort as you did so, your maneuver twisting his wrist at an awkward angle. the small whimper that left his throat had slick dampening your panties.
you could feel Zoro trembling beneath your touch, fighting an invisible war between restraint and throwing caution to the wind entirely. he wanted nothing more than to touch you, to make you feel good from his efforts alone. but you were drunk, and Zoro would soon rather sever his own head than take advantage of you.
"we can't..." he whispered, apology seeping into your skin as he rested his slick forehead into the crook of your neck. "we're drunk, [y/n]. i don't want to hurt you."
but it was too late — you were putty in his hands, ready to bend and fold at his will. pulling at the taut muscles of his shoulders, you lifted Zoro up to meet your gaze. the prickly stubble of his shaven face scratched the insides of your palms as you held his face in your hands. "you could never hurt me, Zoro. i want this, please."
the quirk of a bold eyebrow was the last thing you saw before Zoro pulled away, his absence in your arms making room for the shitty air conditioning. shame and disappointment spiraled into a nauseating vortex inside your gut, the gravity of what you had just done settling onto your conscience. your heart leapt into your throat as you pushed him away, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks and ruin Zoro's efforts. but maybe that's what you wanted. in some sick and twisted way, you'd wanted to show Zoro just how much he hurt you — embarrassed you — both now and then.
"fuck, just forget it. i can never figure you out anyway so just leave me alone—"
clashing of slightly chapped lips against yours ceased your petty rambling. you met the kiss with equal fervor and desperation, draping your arms around his neck for better leverage. every tilt of your head was guided by a rough hand against your jaw, working you open as a hot tongue slipped into your mouth. for a man who hardly bats an eye at anything to do with sex and romance, Zoro was extremely skilled.
an unbearable heat pooled between your thighs with every suck and tug of your sensitive skin. Zoro's strong grip never left your waist, a free hand guiding your legs to wrap around his hips. euphoria struck through your core as you bucked your hips against his, that addictive friction dusting your cheeks crimson. the world around you melted away; entirely lost in those hazel eyes as a firm thigh slotted between your legs. salacious moans and grunts filled the air as you rubbed your needy cunt against the tough black denim, throwing your head back in bliss as you rode clothed muscle.
Zoro's lips latched onto the exposed column of your neck, suckling sweetly as your breath hitched and your eyes rolled back. a low, possessive growl rippled across the surface of your delicate skin as his hand traveled to the curve of your ass. Zoro's thick fingers slipped into your back pocket, guiding the pace of your hips into a controlled rhythm.
"'ve wanted this for so long," he panted, the confession lost inside the lust of your desperate whining. the realization of his words shot straight to your core, your pussy drooling at the thought of Roronoa Zoro dreaming about fucking you. your tongue swiped daringly over the shell of his ear, the three golden earrings singing happily along to the song of sex. "just needed to hear you say it — say that you wanted me."
the rutting of your swollen clit against damp fabric sent jolts of electricity throughout your body, your muscles aching and burning for more. a breathless laugh huffed from the pit of your chest, honest and a little frustrated as you teased softly: "been tellin' you how much i wanted you, dumbass. maybe you should clean your ears out, huh?"
an amused smile pulled at Zoro's flushed complexion as he moved to meet your lips once more, his pace much slower as the words continued to tumble out. "y'know how many times i've thought about that wild mouth of yours? been wanting to fill it just to get you to shut up."
"you might just get what you want," you flirted, pulling back to run your palms over his broad chest. "my offer still stands about making you feel good..."
you could feel the violent thrumming of his heart against your palms as he lunged forward, peppering kisses over your rosy lips. a sweet giggle echoed off the walls as you accepted them, Zoro's facade slowly melting away to reveal the timid, sweet boy you'd grown to love over the years.
“do your worst," Zoro winked, caressing the small of your back as you slid off the countertop.
a hollow thump sounded as you used your hand to press him against the wall, your lips traveling down his neck agonizingly slow. your jaw and teeth worked in tandem as you pulled and sucked along his pulse, earning a soft groan from the man against you. that sweet sound earned an extra needy tug from your mouth, smiling against the bruised skin as your free hand made its way into his waistband. you could feel Zoro twitching under your touch, his bulge growing as you explored further.
"fuck..." Zoro whimpered as he threw his head back, bringing his tied hand up to rub over his eyes and through his hair. but the foreign weight of your hand tugged it right back down, a sharp glint in your eyes as you grabbed his chin. your intense glare drove his attention away from the way his arm rested awkwardly against his chest.
"don't close your eyes, Zo. i want you to watch me go down on you," you demanded, kneeling to unbuckle the belt that rested firmly on his hips. "can you do that for me?"
Zoro spent countless hours with you throughout the years, and never once has he seen this side of you. there were many nuances woven into the pattern of your personality; things he loved so much they made his heart swell, and things that drove him right up the fucking wall. he cherished you because you were different from the other women he knew. you were a force of passion, resilience, and tenderness that didn't shy away from Zoro's faults. you were not his oldest friend, but you were certainly his favorite. Zoro always knew there was something special about you — it was the way you pushed him to be a better version of himself without having to say a word. you brought a light to the inhospitable caverns that inhabited his chest, kindling a flame he never knew could exist. and right now, that flame burned. it burned so bright and full Zoro was afraid of the damage it might cause, the things it would swallow and destroy if they caught fire.
but the tantalizing eye contact you're making centimeters from his throbbing cock has Zoro throwing all caution to the wind, entirely willing to let everything crash and burn if it meant you would take every inch. Zoro's body trembled in anticipation, his growing length becoming unbearable trapped in the confines of his denim jeans. he nodded breathlessly, swallowing the lump in his throat as he was not quite ready to show his cards. he wanted this experience to be as memorable as possible, grappling onto the fabric of reality to ground himself in the present.
for the first time in his life, Roronoa Zoro regretted drinking. perhaps the silly white lie inscribed across his chest would come to fruition.
the sensation of your delicate fingers wrapping around his length pulled Zoro out of his thoughts, recalling his task from moments ago. arousal stirred deep in his gut as he watched you pump his aching cock, pre-cum glistening under the flickering vanity lights. you dragged your hot tongue along the underside of his length, gliding over the thick vein that resides there.
"goddamn," Zoro stuttered through gritted teeth as you wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking gently before taking the rest of his cock into your mouth. "you're so fucking good at that."
tears brimmed your eyes as you swallowed him down, your cheeks hollowing with every bob and tug. carnal moans vibrated against his cock as you took him further down your throat, your hand dripping in saliva and desire.
large, calloused fingers brushed loose strands of hair out of your face before pulling the rest of your hair into a tight ponytail. trails of saliva glistened down your chin and onto the supple skin of your neck, pupils completely blown from bliss and intoxication. Zoro couldn't help the roll of his hips, hastily working his cock into your throat as he fucked it. it was hot and purposeful and consuming; the way you whimpered and gagged driving him closer to his orgasm. the grip in your hair grew tighter as the coil in Zoro's core furled in on itself, his vision going white as he groaned and spilled down your throat.
you pried your wet mouth off his cock with a lewd pop, swallowing every last drop of his cum and savoring the way it slid down your throat warmly.
"you're so fucking beautiful," Zoro rasped, using the end of his shirt to clean your face gently. "just wish it didn't take me fucking your throat to tell you that."
you chuckled at his words, taking his hand in yours and kissing his knuckles. "it's okay, you can tell me all about it when we get outta here."
the promise in your words stirred a fondness in Zoro's chest that sent him reeling all over again, a smirk tugging at his lips as he pulled you up to kiss him.
...
"i never thought i'd live to see the day where the Roronoa Zoro lost a drinking game!"
you were convinced Luffy was the eighth wonder of the world, the man entirely sober as he clanged his plastic fork and knife against the table as he waited for Sanji to deliver his third McDonalds breakfast platter. his drinking partner, on the other hand, currently laid lifeless across leather couch cushions, sporting a garbage bag around his neck like a medallion.
unfortunately for sober Nami, drunk Nami was much more willing to have her friends crash at her place after the function. Sanji and Vivi worked together to assemble makeshift "beds" out of old blankets and cushions they found in Nami's storage closet. aching bodies now decorated the linoleum flooring, wincing at Luffy's loud hollering from the dining room.
"Luffy, if you don't shut the fuck up right now i swear to god i will kill you myself," Nami scowled, temporarily lifting her head from the porcelain toilet bowl to reprimand her overly-energetic friend. but it wasn't long before she heaved again, spewing her guts out while Vivi rubbed soothing circles into her back.
"hehe! you hungry, Nami?" Luffy teased, dangling a strip of bacon in her direction before tossing it into his mouth.
"get the hell out of my house!"
the aggressive slam of the bathroom door caused you to wince, eyebrows furrowing together as you rose from your place on the floor. your head throbbed violently as you motioned for any form of sustenance, the crinkling of brown paper bags singing a promising melody. Zoro's heavy footsteps navigated around the living room to deliver a semi-cold hash brown, a soft smile dancing across his lips as you accepted it weakly.
"eat up," he encouraged, easing down and taking a seat next to you.
"thank you," you smiled, leaning against his arm as you took the first bite. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you groaned in delight, the greasy puck of potatoes probably the best thing you've ever put in your mouth.
well, that and...
"are you guys banging now?" Luffy asked casually, shoveling a syrup-soaked pancake into his mouth as he waited for an answer.
the rest of the room fell silent in anticipation while you and Zoro howled with laughter, a dull ache radiating from inside your temples as you willed yourself to stop. soft hazel eyes met yours before Zoro draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close to plant a kiss on the crown of your head.
"well, when you put it like that Lu it just sounds wrong," Zoro chuckled, the low rumble of his voice soothing your oncoming headache. "but yes, we're figuring things out."
"about time! [y/n], you wouldn't believe how many times i've caught him staring at you with these big puppy dog eyes—!"
"Luffy, what the hell?!"
you put a hand against Zoro's chest, pushing yourself off of him to get a better look at the bright-eyed boy. "no please, Luffy, go on. i'd just love to hear all about these 'puppy dog eyes'."
hello lovely people in my phone!! i apologize for my hiatus, i've been suffering from a severe case of i-have-writers-block-and-have-been-hating-everything-i've-ever-written disease. i also believe the fanfiction writer curse has caught up to me so there's that too. i decided that the best way to overcome this stump was to try and go back to my roots, soooo here's a fun little fic for my beloved roronoa. i'm also trying out a new image formatting style so lmk what you think :D
for all my readers who aren't aware of what a borg is, it's essentially a gallon-sized drink where you mix water, liquor, and flavor packets (like Kool Aid or other stuff like that) together and attempt to finish it throughout the night. very fun but very dangerous lol
okay that's enough outta me i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i did writing it byeeee <3
Can you write how the guys would react to female reader insecurities? It could be anything really.
Love the stories that you write ❤️
a/n: heyyy, thank you for enjoying the stories! I love your idea, and I hope it's the OP men, so if not, just tell me!
Insecurities don’t fit your beauty. [One Piece x gn! reader]
You have been insecure about some features about yourself. The guys think otherwise about your insecurities.
tags: one piece x reader (separate scenarios), different types of insecurities, comfort, gn! reader, luffy x reader, zoro x reader, sanji x reader, law x reader.
I. Monkey D. Luffy [What if I take up too much space?]
You didn't say it all at once. It came out in pieces like crumbs at the corner of your mouth after dinner. It was the way you laughed and pushed the plate away even though your eyes kept drifting back.
It was the sweatshirt you tugged down when the wind lifted your shirt and your stomach showed. It was the apology. It was always the apology when you were going back for seconds.
Luffy didn't notice at first because Luffy worshipped food the way some people prayed. He loved it loudly. He loved it with both hands. He loved you the same way: loudly, both hands and with zero hesitation.
One night on the Sunny, when everyone was sleepy and bellies were full, you were crouched by the rail with a cup of tea you weren't drinking.
He plopped down beside you with his chin on your shoulder. It felt warm and sun-soaked.
"My belly's getting soft", you whispered like it was a confession. "I shouldn't have eaten that much...".
Luffy blinked. "What? That was awesome". Then like he had remembered something crucial, he patted your stomach with blissful reverence. "This is awesome".
You swatted his hand, half-giggling and half-mortified. "Stop, I'm being serious".
"Me too!" he insisted, scooting until he could look you in the eye. There were no calculation there. No social rules. Just the truth. "I like you soft. You're really comfortable that way", he squeezed his own middle while grinning. "I'm soft too after big meals. It means I'm happy".
"Luffy, that's not... People don't-", you tried to explain to him but he just tilted his head.
"People are silly then". He was quiet for a second with eyebrows knitting. "Are you hurting? Is someone hurting you with words? I'll stretch their ears".
You laughed, the sound surprised out of you. "No, it's just... I feel like I take up too much space. Like I should be smaller. Eat less. Be less", you said with a chuckle to hide the pain you were slightly hiding.
His face went very solemn. Luffy rarely did solemn. "You're my crew", he said like a vow. "My treasure. You're supposed to take up space on my ship. I need you to", he said as his finger booped your nose gently.
"If you tried to be less, I would have to be more to cover it. That's not fair".
He thought for a beat and then offered the most Luffy solution possible: "Let's eat together. Forever".
"That's... Not a solution".
"Yeah it is!" he brightened. "We'll make rules. Rule one: if you want seconds, you take seconds. Rule two: if you feel bad, tell me so I can hug you", he demonstrated immediately, slinging his arms around you and curling you like a cat.
"Rule three: I'll say 'I love you' before you eat, after you eat and also now. I love you".
The wind picked up as you tucked into him. "It's not always that easy".
"Okay", he said. "Then when it's hard, we make it easier".
In the days after, he shared his food without theatrics. He slid an extra dumpling onto your plate with a conspirator's wink. He made a game out of who could moan the loudest over dessert, which got Sanji to yell at both of you and still brought whipped cream.
When a picture Franky snapped caught your mid-laugh belly, you stared at it too long. Luffy came up behind you and noticed what you were staring at.
He just let out a big grin while saying: "That's my favourite part", he said and meant everything about you. It wasn't just your soft belly. It was about your joy, your softness and your life.
The picture Franky took of you went on the fridge. He tapped it every morning like a charm.
"You don't take up too much space", he told you again with his head tucked under you chin because he was slouching to fit.
"You take up exactly the space that is yours. I'll stretch the world bigger if it ever feels too small".
And somehow, little by little, it fit.
II. Roronoa Zoro [I'm not strong enough]
You tried not to say it around him. It felt like sacrilege to confess weakness to a man who wore it like a challenge and beat it bloody on the training deck every dawn.
But it was there sitting in your throat during storms, sea kings and smoky ports where trouble smelt like cheap sake.
One afternoon, after a skirmish that left you rattled and mostly unharmed, you were on the grass of some nameless island. Your hands were shaking as you laced your boots. Zoro found you by instinct and was following the tremor in the air the same way he tracked a blade's song.
"You're breathing too fast", he noted. It wasn't judgement. It was a landmark.
"I slowed everyone down", you said. "I'm deadweight out there. If I was stronger...".
"Hnh", he dropped down to his knee as big hands were steadying on your ankle. He finished the knot you had fumbled. "Stronger isn't louder", he said. "It's steadier".
You blinked at him. "And that means...?"
"It means you don't have to swing a sword to be strong", he leant back on his heels and eyes slitting against the sun. "You watched your corners. You got Chopper out of the way of that shot. You didn't freeze".
He shrugged. "That's strength".
"It doesn't feel like it".
He scratched his scar, then stood up while offering a hand. "Come on".
He took you to the training room. The smell of oil and iron hung like a promise. He didn't hand you a katana. He handed you a wooden sword that was balanced and blunt.
"We're not doing this because I need you to fight", he said while rolling his wrist. "We're doing this because you need to know your body answers when you call".
The first hour was footwork. The second was breathing. He corrected with a tap here, a murmur there and a clipped "again" that never carried disappointment, only faith. When your legs burned and frustration flared, he nodded and said: "Hold. Storms pass".
Later when you land your stance exactly right, the ship might as well have cheered. He didn't. He just grinned like a wolf and said: "There you are".
The next time port trouble found you, it was quick and mean. You moved without thinking. The way he drilled you from the hours in the training room. Sidestep, low guard, the shout for Nami to pivot. The blow that would have found you glances off the rail.
Zoro was there half a breath later with swords singing, but the difference was that you didn't feel like you were drowning.
That night he tossed you his haramaki, it smelt like steel, sweat and sun. "For when you forget", he said. "Wrap your middle. Remember your core".
You laughed as you tugged it on over your shirt. The fabric was snug and ridiculous, yet perfect. "Does this make me strong?"
He stepped in closely as his forehead rested on yours. His voice was a rumble. "You already are. Strength isn't a number I can measure. It's the way you get back up. It's the way you look me in the eye when you're scared and do it anyway".
His thumb traced the pulse in your wrist. "It's the way you're still here".
When you faltered again, he didn't lecture you. He tossed a towel and set two cups of water down. He started from the top. "Again", he said with a calm as the sea under a sky of swords. "I'll be here till you hear your own feet".
And you did.
III. Sanji Vinsmoke [I hate my scars]
They were old stories your skin kept telling without permission: pale stretch lines over hips, a surgical mark like a comma and a scatter of stubborn acne along your shoulders. Intimacy was warm and golden until the shirt had to come off.
The moment the shirt came off ended up with your mouth flooding with apologies. Sanji's hands, suddenly too careful, were hovering like he was afraid to push.
It happened on a slow evening. Dinner was done and the galley was quiet. Sanji was humming to himself while wiping down the counter. You sneaked in for tea and flinched when your sleeve rode up and a seam of scar became of horizon.
He noticed the flinch. His eyes always caught everything happening around. He set the cloth down. "Mademoiselle?"
You tried to joke. "Buy one, get one free lightning map".
He didn't smile. He stepped around the island while crowding your doubts with gentle insistence.
"Tell me what you see there", he said as his fingertips were ghosting the line and waiting for your nod.
"Ruin", you said too fast, "Imperfection".
He inhaled like he was steadying a pot about to boil. "I see a life", he answered softly. "Proof that you lived it".
You rolled your eyes. "You'd say that about a burnt soufflé".
"No", he said with a little fierce in his voice now. "A burnt soufflé is a mistake. You are not a mistake. You are a recipe repeated with love", he cleared his throat since he was visibly embarrassed by his own metaphor.
Then he pressed on because he always did it when it mattered. "Mon amour, you think I don't adore every line? I am a man in a storm and your marks are my constellations".
"Sanji".
"What?" he protested with his cheeks flushed pink. "They guide me home".
You laughed, but you felt your chest ached. "They make me feel... ugly. Like I should hide".
He went very still. Then he did something simple: He pulled out a clean linen from the drawer and tied it around his own forearm. It was covering the fading burns he never bothered to hide. "I got these cooking for people who didn't deserve it", he said.
"I used to hate them. Then I decided they're proof that I kept serving anyway".
He didn't ask to see more. He wouldn't ask. He just waited. When you tugged your collar aside and showed him the scattered constellations, he kissed his teeth like he could pick a fight with time.
"Tell me what you need", he said, "Words? Silence? Cream with vitamin E? A new silk that doesn't scratch?"
"Don't make a big deal", you just said.
"I'll make the exact size of deal you want", he promised. "But I will not let you starve yourself of tenderness".
And then he proved it in a hundred small ways.
Setting towels on the warmer so you never stepped into the shower cold. Researching soaps that wouldn't strip. Sliding a plate in front of you with the same pride he reserved for the sea kings and a sentence that would tickle your ached heart.
"For the body that carries the soul I love".
The first time you left the lights on, he looked at you like you just served him the world. He didn't gasp, nor did he whisper poetry. He checked your eyes and when you nodded, he leant in and mapped you with his mouth reverently.
It wasn't to worship the scars but to welcome them to the table.
"Thank you", he murmured into your skin as if you had given him a new flavour to learn.
Later when you were both tangled and drowsy, he tucked your hand over your own hip and kept it there. "Feel that?" he said.
"That is home. Anyone who told you different can eat my shoe", he said with a soft but confident smile.
"You mean your precious leather loafers?"
"I'll flambé them", he said solemnly. "With brandy".
You snorthed. In the silence after, the scars didn't vanish. Instead, they just softened. They became a part of the story and for the first time, you felt like you were allowed to keep reading.
IV. Trafalgar D. Law [My anxiety makes me broken]
He found you at the infirmary because of course he would find you there. Of course he did.
The submarine hummed its low, constant heart while your own heart was trying to match it but failed. Your hands tingled. Your breath wouldn't reach the bottom of your lungs. There was no reason. There was every reason.
Trauma didn't need an invitation.
Law paused at the threshold as he was assessing like a surgeon before a cut. "May I?" he asked with a careful voice and waited for your nod before crossing into your storm.
You couldn't meet his eyes. "I'm a mess", you gritted with shame. "I can't... control it".
"Hm", he dragged a stool close and sat down while keeping his hands visible and empty. "You don't have to control the ocean to sail it".
"Don't be poetic at me".
"I'm being literal", he tipped his head toward the overhead lamp. "Can I dim this?"
You nodded and he did it with a soft clicking sound. "Can I check your pulse?" his fingers were cool on your wrists. He was quietly counting and notating clinical. "Fast as expected".
"I hate this", you whispered. "I hate that it happens for no reason".
"There is a reason", he replied back in a clinically kind tone. "Your nervous system learned too much too fast and now overcorrects itself. That's not a weakness. That's just a body keeping you alive", he said as he looked up to meet your eyes.
"We can teach it new things".
"Like what?"
He outlined it the way he would plan an attack: grounding, breath ladders and muscle release. He offered options like instruments on a tray. "Pick three and we will build a protocol around it".
You picked out a couple things.
Five things you could see.
Four you could touch.
Three you could hear.
Two you could smell.
One you could taste.
After that a four-square breath where you inhale, hold, exhale and hold. His palm was under yours. It wasn't gripping yours. It was just there. It was like it was weighted like a paperweight on your page so the words didn't blow away.
He didn't narrate your progress with false cheer. He marked it like coordinates.
"Breath dropping. Good. Hands warming. Good. Jaw unclenching- There". When tears slipped, he just offered a tissue and pretended not to see if that was what you needed at that moment. When your breath hitched, he hitched with it, then steadied like a metronome you could borrow.
Later when your mind was back in your body and your body was yours, the shame crept in.
"I'm sorry", you murmured. "You probably have better things to do".
"No", he simply said. "I have my crew to keep alive and that includes you".
"And I have my partner to care for and that includes you", he said.
"But... I'm like this", you mumbled.
"And I'm like this", he answered while tapping his own heart with a dry smile that didn't quite reach the ghosts in his eyes. "We offer gentleness where the world didn't".
He set up quiet signals. Three taps on the table meant to step outside with him. A hand on the back of your neck meant to drink water.
A look that lasted one second longer than usual meant that he saw you. That he was there for you and that you should keep breathing.
He taught the rest of the crew not to jostle you in tight corridors. It wasn't because you were fragile, but rather that you deserved ease.
On bad days, he let you sit on the floor with your back to his leg while he charted. On better days, he coaxed you into tiny exposures like the market, the crowd or the clamor. Then back to the Polar Tang where he peeled an orange and placed each crescent on your tongue.
"Citrus helps", he muttered as if the science shielded the tenderness.
You weren't cured. You were held. When the next wave hit, he didn't roll his eyes. He just said "Room" to make space for you and to let you breathe bigger inside it until the walls stretched into the sky.
You didn't make things difficult for him. He just made it easier for you to breathe.
Summary: It was long overdue for you to properly meet his parents. Nerves were gnawing at you — the last time you’d seen them hadn’t ended well. Now was the time to make amends and finally get to know Law’s hometown.
Tags: Law x Reader, Modern AU, dinner with his parents, father son convo, talks about your future, sfw
a.n: I really need to stop apologizing for showing up randomly and late — it’s become a habit. Still, I hope you enjoy the chapter; there’s some sweet fluff waiting for you at the end.
[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]
"Crazy how the weather can change so much..." you muttered quietly, gazing out the window of the sea train as it sped toward the icy North Blue. The once-clear skies had darkened, and the air inside the cabin felt colder with every passing mile.
"Have you even seen snow before?"
You turned to Law, unimpressed, only to be met with his signature smug grin.
"Of course I have. Have you ever seen the sun?"
Law rolled his eyes, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips as he shifted in his seat, settling in more comfortably. The trip back to his hometown never really bothered him—if anything, he found it strangely soothing. The vast, open sea stretching out on either side of the train and the steady rhythm of the waves as they sliced through the water helped quiet the usual noise in his mind.
"...Are you nervous?"
You knew exactly what he meant. With a slow exhale, your gaze drifted back to the window. “The first meeting with your parents wasn’t exactly… ideal.”
“Would it help if I told you they’re probably just as nervous?”
“You sure?”
“Mom? Definitely. Dad? ...Less so. But yeah, he’s probably overthinking it too.”
His tone was easy, but there was something grounding in it—reassuring in a way only he could be. You weren’t doing this alone. Not this time. He was here, beside you.
You hummed softly, mostly to yourself, leaning back in your seat. Eyes half-lidded, you tried to let the steady rhythm of the train, the gentle sway and the muted hum of the tracks, lull you into something resembling calm. If nothing else, you could at least enjoy the ride.
After hours of swaying train cars, muffled conversations, and the steady clatter of wheels over rails, the sea train finally rolled into Flevance station with a sigh of brakes and a hiss of steam.
You stepped onto the platform, the weight of the long journey still clinging to your limbs. Law followed close behind, hauling both your bags like it was nothing. And then the cold hit—sharp and immediate, slicing through every layer you wore. Your breath caught. Goosebumps flared across your skin. No matter how many coats or scarves you packed, the North had a way of reaching right through them.
From the corner of your eye, you could feel Law watching you.
You turned just in time to catch his expression—one part amusement, one part smugness. Of course he was fine. Dressed like it was fall instead of the dead of winter: jeans, a hoodie, a beanie slouched over his hair. No coat. No gloves. Not even a flinch.
“Cold?” he asked, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as he stepped ahead with an easy, practiced stride—like he’d never left this place.
You tugged your scarf up higher, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “What? No. I’m great, actually.”
He threw a glance over his shoulder that said he didn’t believe a word of it.
“Good,” he drawled, shifting the bags with practiced ease. “Because if you’re not cold, we could just walk. My parents’ place isn’t far. Thirty minutes on foot. Max. You’ll love it—especially dodging the black ice. Wouldn’t want you cracking that pretty head open.”
You laughed, breath puffing out in white wisps. The snark was ready on your tongue—but then you saw it, just as you exited the train station and stepped on the pavement together.
Flevance.
The city stretched out before you, blanketed in pristine snow. Under the pale winter sunlight, the buildings gleamed like they’d been dusted with powdered sugar. The air was sharp and clean, and everything seemed… quiet. Not empty, just still. Like the snow had softened the edges of the world.
You stood there for a moment, letting your gaze wander. You could almost picture it: a much smaller Law, trudging through these streets with hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, collar turned up against the wind.
Your eyes shifted away from the city slowly. Off to the side, a neat row of taxis waited along the curb, each one idling quietly, their drivers leaned back in their seats with practiced patience. The thought of sliding into a warm car, letting the heater blast against your frozen hands—it was dangerously tempting.
But Law wasn’t about to make this easy.
“Or,” he said, tipping his head toward the line of cabs as he continued his tease from before, “you wanna admit defeat and grab a taxi, Miss ‘I’m not cold at all’?” The grin on his face was downright evil.
You rolled your eyes, teeth chattering just a little.
“…Fine,” you muttered. “It’s cold. Taxi it is.”
He chuckled as if he’d won a battle, and helped you load your things into the trunk. Law took the front seat, chatting casually with the driver, while you sank gratefully into the back. The heater kicked in almost immediately, thawing your fingers as the city began to slip past the window.
The bustling heart of Flevance faded as the car wound its way into quieter, more refined neighborhoods. The streets grew wider. The homes, grander. Space became a luxury—and here, it was everywhere. Snow clung to wrought-iron gates and lined stone walkways like frosting on a cake.
You pressed your cheek lightly against the cold glass, watching it all pass by.
It was a different world for you.
And for the first time since arriving, you felt like you were stepping into Law’s story—not just hearing about it, but walking the same streets, breathing the same air.
Even if it was way too cold.
The car eased to a stop in front of an estate that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread, letting you two exist and grab your luggage. The house stretched wide and elegant across the snowy landscape, its grand façade framed by tall iron gates and carefully sculpted hedges now dusted with snow. As the driver pulled away, the cold crept back in, and you stood there for a moment beside Law, your breath fogging in the icy air.
You tilted your head, arms folded tight against the chill. “You know,” you said, eyeing the long driveway leading up to the house, “you can always tell how rich someone is by how far the front door is from the gate.”
Law arched a brow, already pressing the doorbell. “Never understood the appeal of a long-ass driveway anyway.”
You gave him a sidelong look, grinning. “To show off how rich you are, obviously.”
He glanced at you, deadpan. “You can sleep outside in the snow if you keep that shit going.”
The gate buzzed and clicked open, and you let out a quiet chuckle as you both stepped through.
The walk to the front door was slow and cautious, the stone path slick with ice in places. You shuffled forward, trying to maintain dignity while not landing flat on your cheeks. Law, naturally, walked like the ice didn’t even exist.
At the door, warm light spilled out as it opened to reveal two smiling figures: Lea and Matheo, bundled in sweaters and radiating that familiar warmth of parents who’d been waiting by the window. As soon as you stepped inside, a wave of heat wrapped around you, so comforting it was almost overwhelming.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Lea said, pulling Law into a hug so tight he had to shift your bags to one arm. “It’s so lovely to see you again. You really should visit more often.”
Law looked vaguely cornered, but you caught the faintest tug of a smile on his lips.
Matheo turned to you with a kind expression. “It’s nice to see you too, Y/N.” His voice was soft, like he was trying to bridge something left unspoken since the ceremony. You appreciated it more than you let on.
“Thank you for having me,” you said, still thawing out. “I’m definitely not used to this kind of cold.”
“Oh right, winters aren’t like this in the East, are they? I nearly forgot,” Lea said, finally letting go of her son and turning her full attention to you. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”
She ushered you through the entryway, where your boots and jacket were quickly replaced with cozy slippers. As you followed her into the house, your eyes roamed curiously, taking in the space. This was Law’s childhood home. You’d imagined it before, but seeing it was something else entirely.
It was elegant, no doubt—high ceilings, tasteful décor, furniture that looked like it belonged in an art gallery. But there were touches of real life scattered everywhere: slightly crooked photo frames, kids’ drawings still taped to the walls, worn out books messily scattered on every possible surface.
It wasn't just a house, but a home...
The living room gave way to a sprawling kitchen, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered like a warm blanket. You took a deep breath, already starting to feel your fingers again. Through the wide glass door leading into the garden, you spotted something that made you blink: a barbecue grill, smoke rising into the frozen air.
You raised an eyebrow. “Wait… are we actually grilling?”
Law smirked. “Forgot to mention that?”
Lea handed you a mug, her laughter warm. “This is the North—we adapt.”
You cradled the coffee gratefully, inhaling the steam. “We’ll have to do it in the East one day. I’ll show you how to grill without frostbite.”
“We'd love that,” Lea chuckled and looked at her husband, who nodded in agreement with a smile. He was already shrugging into his jacket, which had been draped over a kitchen chair. He moved with an easy calm, but there was something deliberate in the way he glanced at his son.
“Law, give me a hand out there?”
“Sure dad.”
He gave you a quick look, like he was checking in before heading off. “Wanna come outside or stay warm with Mom?”
You laughed, hugging your coffee to your chest. “I’ve made enough bad life choices. I’ll stay inside, thanks.”
Law disappeared to grab his shoes, and you watched as the two of them stepped out into the snow. Just before the glass door slid shut behind them, Law reached for a bottle on the counter—something clear that looked oodly familiar—and two small glasses.
Vodka. Not just for the taste. More like armor against the cold.
You watched them through the window for a moment, two silhouettes in the white haze, father and son side by side in the swirling snow.
Inside, you stayed with Lea, setting the table and falling into a surprisingly easy rhythm. The conversation flowed effortlessly, the kind that starts light but somehow ends up deeper than you expect—full of little laughs and unexpected warmth. You hadn’t anticipated it, not after everything, but something about her made it easy to let your guard down.
Outside, Law stood beside his father, boots crunching softly on the snow-packed stone as they hovered near the grill. Smoke curled upward into the winter sky while the fire popped and hissed beneath the lid.
“It’s good to have you back,” Matheo said, placing skewers across the grill before lowering the lid. “How’s the hospital now that you’ve got that first diploma under your belt?”
Law wiped a bit of coal dust from his fingers and slipped his hands into his pockets. He hesitated—part of him tempted to offer the usual half-answer. But after everything, especially after how things had nearly fallen apart with you, he’d made a quiet promise to stop pretending everything was fine.
He glanced at the smoke curling in the air, then at his father.
“Honestly? It’s been shit.”
Matheo didn’t react with surprise at first—just gave a slow nod as he reached for the bottle sitting nearby. And Law was quite grateful for it. He uncapped it and poured two shots of clear liquor. They clinked them together without a word and drank, the silence between them as heavy and meaningful as the conversation.
“Professors giving you hell?”
Law gave a slight shrug. “Some of them, yeah. But… that’s not the main thing.” His breath came out in a visible cloud as he stared into the steam rising from the grill. “Things didn’t go well with Y/N after the ceremony.”
Matheo glanced over, curiosity—and something else, too. Hope, maybe, that his son might finally open up. “We talked about it, your mom and I,” he said. “Rosinante told us some of what happened. We’re sorry, Law. We didn’t realize how much damage we’d done.”
Law gave a small nod. “Thanks, Dad. But… I messed up too.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze fixed on the liquid in his glass. “Y/N was disappointed. Rightfully so. I let her walk into that whole situation blind. You guys didn’t even know I was bringing someone, let alone someone with history tied to Yuki.”
That name settled between them like a stone dropped into still water.
Matheo didn’t speak at first, just took another sip. His gaze was steady, his voice low. “There’s more to that, isn’t there?”
Law nodded again, slower this time. “I told Y/N everything. About Lamy. About Yuki. She deserves the truth.” He sighed again, deeper this time. Maybe this wasn’t the best moment to drop everything on his father, but it had been a long time coming. This secret had sat too long between them, and he knew it would change how Matheo saw Yuki. But it had to.
“She does,” Matheo said softly. He turned toward Law fully now, the quiet weight of fatherhood sitting in his posture. “Especially if she matters to you.”
“More than anything...,” Law replied without hesitation. “And I almost lost her dad... Because I thought I had to handle everything on my own.”
The words hung in the air for a beat. Then he sighed, downed the rest of his glass in one go, and poured another. His hand shook just slightly as he set the bottle down.
“I told her the full story,” he continued. “And I need you to hear it too.”
Matheo said nothing, just stood quietly and listened as Law told him everything—how it started with Yuki, the history that bound them, the manipulation, the things she did to you… and what she nearly cost him.
By the time Law finished, Matheo’s brows had drawn together, his jaw tight. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t question. He simply reached for his glass, emptied it, and poured a fresh one for them both.
“That…” he began, shaking his head slowly, “sounds like a damn fever dream.”
Law laughed once—dry and flat. “Feels like one too.”
“And she did all that?” Matheo asked, brows furrowing deeper. “To you? To Y/N? Out of what—spite? Jealousy?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Law muttered, rubbing his hands together more out of habit than cold. “Control, maybe. She was good at it. Scarily good.”
Matheo cursed under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. His expression hovered between fury and disbelief, but beneath it all was a flash of something deeper—helplessness. He wished he’d known sooner. Wished he could’ve seen the signs, stepped in, shielded his son before it ever got this far. Law was his only child. And the thought that he’d suffered in silence, carrying all of this alone… it cut deeper than words could reach.
But beneath it all was something else—relief, maybe, or a quiet kind of pride. Law had finally told him the truth. No walls, no half-truths, no pretending. Just honesty. And Matheo clung to that. He told himself to focus on what mattered now, not drown in guilt over what he couldn’t change.
He hadn’t been there for Law then. But he could be here now. Present. Listening. Showing up in the ways that counted.
“Thanks for telling me,” Matheo said at last, his voice low but steady. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips as he reached out, resting a firm hand on Law’s shoulder and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “If you ever need to talk more—about any of it—you can call me. Anytime, alright? Even if I’m working, I’ll make time. Always.”
Law offered a crooked grin. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it… and—sorry for dropping a bomb on you in the middle of a barbecue.”
Matheo chuckled, the sound weary but genuine. “Not the first time you’ve shaken up dinner.”
They might’ve said more, but the kitchen door creaked open, and Lea poked her head out with a grin, your figure right behind her with a warm smile.
“Well? Are we eating tonight or waiting for the next solstice?” she called, her breath puffing into the cold.
“We’re coming!” Matheo replied, already moving to lift the lid and start plating the food. The meat was perfectly grilled, the smell rich and savory as they transferred everything into a large pot, sealing it up tight against the cold.
Law glanced at you through the glass door. You were smiling, eyes bright—and he felt something shift. A quiet peace.
Together, they headed back inside, the rush of warmth greeting them immediately. The dining table was already beautifully set, covered with an array of colorful, mouthwatering side dishes. It looked like a feast—comforting, hearty, and made with care.
Law glanced at you as he set the pot down, something lighter in his eyes now. Maybe things weren’t fixed yet—but this, all of it, felt like a start.
Dinner passed with a surprising lightness. Whatever conversation had taken place between Law and Matheo outside seemed to have lifted much of the tension that had hovered over the afternoon. The atmosphere now felt warmer—easier. You found yourself growing more comfortable, especially as you and Lea fell into friendly conversation, getting to know each other better over bites of perfectly grilled food and rich side dishes.
“Heard Law told you a bit about our little sunshine, Lamy?” Matheo said, his tone light as he sliced into a piece of tender, marinated meat, a fond smile tugging at his lips.
You looked up from your plate, a little caught off guard. The name had weight, even in its gentlest form. You hadn’t expected them to bring up their daughter—especially not in the middle of dinner. But both of Law’s parents wore expressions filled with warmth, not sorrow.
“A bit, yes…” you said softly, unsure however. “Though... not in much detail.”
Lea gave a quiet, wistful laugh. “You two would’ve gotten along. We hadn’t planned on having two kids, but she was the best surprise life ever gave us.”
Law let out a mock-offended scoff, raising an eyebrow. “And what does that make the firstborn?”
"You were our trial run sweetheart,” Lea teased, grinning.
Law shook his head, but his grin said he didn’t mind the teasing. You couldn’t help but laugh with them, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. This wasn’t just a family meal—it felt like being let into something sacred. A quiet kind of intimacy .
“If you two want to dig through some old memories later, the photo albums are all in the office,” Lea offered with a smile as she stood to refill the water and wine.
“Maybe after dinner,” Law murmured, glancing down at his plate. “And a hot shower.”
He stretched slightly, then yawned mid-motion—clearly not as awake as he wanted to be.
“Tired as always, huh?” Matheo asked, casual and knowing.
“Yeah. Long week. Same as always.”
“When is it not a long week?” Matheo chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “You’ve got to slow down before your body makes the choice for you.”
“He’s picked up kendo again,” you chimed in, looking over at Law. “That’s been eating up what little free time he had.”
At that, both parents paused, brows rising in near-unison.
Law leaned back, his plate cleared, and took the fresh glass of wine his mom handed him with a quiet nod of thanks.
“Seriously?” Matheo asked in disbeliefe.
Law took a sip, slow and thoughtful, then glanced your way—his silent cue for you to tell the story. It had started with you, after all.
“We went a tournament—friend of mine was competing. It stirred up some old instincts, I guess. Same friend’s been helping him train again,” you explained, setting your fork down. “Little by little. It’s been good for him.”
Law chuckled softly, rubbing at his eyes. “He’s ruthless. Doesn’t care if I’m exhausted. Says I need to ‘remember how to move like I mean it.’”
Lea’s eyes softened as a smile crept across her face. “Wow… Honestly, sweetheart, I never thought you’d pick up Kikoku again. Not after everything.”
Law didn’t reply right away, just looked down into his wine. Then, with a quiet shrug, he murmured, “Guess I missed it more than I realized.”
The table fell into a peaceful silence for a moment—not heavy, but reflective. Like everyone was letting that bit of truth settle before moving on.
Lea smiled as if recalling something distant but dear. It was clear the news meant a lot to her—she knew how much that practice used to help him unwind, especially after long days at school. After Lamy’s death, he’d slowly let go of so many things he once loved. To see him pick something back up again—it felt like a step forward.
It felt like your influence had something to do with it.
His parents could sense it—that subtle shift. Like the version of Law they remembered was slowly resurfacing. The one who used to light up over things he cared about, who smiled more easily, who carried a spark of life that had been missing for a long time.
Eventually, plates were scraped clean, glasses half-full of the last sips of wine, and the cozy lull of satisfaction settled over the table. Lea began gathering dishes, brushing off your offer to help with a gentle smile.
"You’re our guest tonight. Go on, relax," she said, stacking plates with practiced ease.
Matheo stretched in his chair and stood up with a low groan. “I’ll help her. You two head upstairs and get settled. It’s been a long day.”
Law gave a quiet nod of thanks and stood, waiting for you to follow. After a final round of smiles and goodnights, you walked with him through the hallway and up the stairs, his hand casually carrying your bags.
He led you into his old bedroom—its walls a deep navy, lined with band posters, certificates, and faded childhood photos. Bits of the past lingered here and there: crayon drawings, dusty toys, a few forgotten books. It felt like the room had been frozen in time since he left for university.
“That’s the bathroom,” he said, pointing to the door on your right. “And before you say anything—yes, I had my own. Spare me the commentary.” He shot you a playful grin as he set your bags down.
You smirked and rolled your eyes. “Sure, privileged northern boy. Not a word.”
You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him settle in beside you.
“…Feeling any better about my parents? “
“Sort of,” you admitted, exhaling as you let yourself fall back onto the mattress, eyes on the ceiling. “Had a nice chat with your mum. But it was all surface-level stuff—uni, weather, food…”
Law didn’t respond right away. He just watched you for a moment, then gave a small, thoughtful nod.
“What about you?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him. “Seemed like you had a good talk with your pa.”
Law let out a short chuckle, dropping his gaze as his fingers absently traced the ink on his knuckles. “Sort of… He asked how things went after the ceremony.”
You sat up a little straighter, curiosity sparking. “And?”
“I was honest. Told him it was a mess.” He exhaled heavily, still not meeting your eyes. “Told him about the fight, the whole Yuki situation… everything.”
“Wait—seriously? You told him all of it?”
He nodded. “Everything.”
You went quiet, letting that sink in. You always knew Law was blunt, that wasn’t the surprise. It was the fact that he’d opened to his father so quickly—that he didn’t hold anything back—that caught you off guard.
“And what did your old man say?” you asked, sitting up straighter and inching a little closer.
“He apologized for his part,” Law said, glancing at you briefly before his gaze drifted away again. “And he was shocked—about Yuki.”
“Wait... you actually told him everything she did?”
“Not every detail,” he said with a shrug. “Just the broad strokes.”
“Damn,” you murmured, letting yourself sink slowly back into the mattress. “And your mom?”
“Dad said he’d talk to her. He probably already is, knowing him.” Law let out a quiet sigh as he stood and crouched by his bag, digging through it for fresh clothes. Judging by his movements, he was gearing up for a shower—and just like that, the conversation was over for him.
But not for you. You couldn’t help it—you wanted more. Every little piece. Even if the questions spinning in your head didn’t have solid answers yet, curiosity had a tight grip on you. You had to talk about it.
“What do you think your mom’s reaction will be?” you asked, trying to sound casual.
Law folded his clothes with his usual precision, placed them on the bed and walked past the it toward the bathroom. “No idea. Probably shocked.” His voice was so nonchalant it was hard to tell if he really didn’t care—or was just good at pretending. He disappeared behind the bathroom door but didn’t bother closing it.
As he expected, you shifted, following him with a mind full of tangled questions.
“You think she’ll react differently than your dad?”
Law peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the water on. Normally, you’d be watching him, soaking in every inch of him—but right now, your brain was too loud to focus on anything else.
“Definitely,” he said with a soft sigh, stepping under the stream. He visibly relaxed beneath the warm water—warm by his standards, way too cold by yours. “She’s more emotional.”
“Oh, because she’s a woman?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.
Through the glass, Law shot you an incredulous look, his wet black hair plastered to his face as he rolled his eyes.
“No, dumbass. Cause after Lamy passed, she needed someone to mother. And Yuki fit that role,” he replied, voice calm and matter-of-fact.
The words hit you harder than you expected. You hadn’t thought of it that way. To you, Yuki had always been this villain—but this was something else.
“Do you think she’ll believe what you told your dad?” you asked, softer now.
“She will,” Law said without hesitation, closing his eyes as he lathered shampoo into his hair. “They both know I don’t make things up. And I don’t open up easily. They’ll take it seriously. Don’t stress about it.”
You went quiet for a moment, then nodded to yourself, knowing full well he couldn’t see it. “...A few more allies wouldn’t hurt.”
“Especially my parents.” He paused. “Not that I’m suggesting anything…”
You looked up, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
“But they’ve got connections. Ones Yuki depends on. If things blow up again… they could cut her off.”
Law opened his eyes and pushed his wet hair back, letting the water stream down his back. He wiped the fog off the shower glass and looked at you, his expression serious. "Honestly? She deserves everything coming to her after all the crap she pulled. If my son ever came to me with a story like that, I’d end her career without a second thought."
Something about the way he said it made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just the fierce protectiveness—it was the fact that he mentioned his son. The idea that he even thought about having kids. That was new. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but you'd never heard him say anything like that before.
You stared at him, caught off guard, your mind scrambling to catch up.
"What?" Law asked, chuckling as he turned away from the glass and rinsed the last of the shampoo from his hair. "Too harsh? Bad parenting?"
You blinked, finally managing to answer. “Nah. Honestly, I’d probably beat her up personally.”
Law laughed, shaking his head with a grin. You watched him for a moment before adding, more curious now, “I’ve just... never heard you talk about kids before.”
“I haven’t?” he asked, surprised. The water shut off with a final hiss.
“Nope.” You handed him a towel, which he took and ran over his skin in brisk motions before tying it around his waist—low enough to make your thoughts blur for a moment.
You leaned against the sink while Law grabbed a smaller towel and started drying his hair.
“Isn’t that the kind of topic you’re supposed to cover at the beginning of a relationship?” he asked, voice muffled slightly by the towel.
“Usually,” you said with a soft chuckle, watching him. “Could be a deal breaker if one person wants kids and the other doesn’t. But we kind of jumped into this whole thing without much planning.”
Law let out a low hum, pausing to glance at you. “Yeah... as the whole ceremony disaster proved, I’m not exactly great at handling emotions or recognizing when something’s serious.”
He wasn’t wrong. He had loved you long before he’d been ready to admit it—even to himself. He’d introduced you to his friends, to Rosinante, someone more important than his parents almost. You were already woven into his life, even if he hadn’t acknowledged what that really meant back then. So talking about the future hadn’t exactly been on the table—unless it involved career goals.
You tilted your head, playful but a little hesitant. “Wanna have the deal-breaker talk now?”
“Why not?”
Surprisingly, Law felt just as unsure about the conversation as you did—only he was better at hiding it behind that familiar stoic mask. He tossed the towel over his shoulder and looked straight at you.
“So,” he said, voice even, “you wanna have kids?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yup. Two at least. Only children tend to be brats.”
You raised an eyebrow with a grin. “That a scientific observation, Dr. Law?”
“Very.”
Without thinking much of it, you reached out and shook hands like you'd just signed a contract.
“Alright,” you said. “Deal.”
“Deal."
Just like that—like it was nothing—you’d agreed to build a future together. And somehow, that made it feel even more real.
"Fine," Law exhaled—then, without giving you a second to react, he suddenly hoisted you over his shoulder. “Hey—!” you gasped, flailing a little as you instinctively reached for the towel around his hips, desperately trying not to yank it off. He strolled casually back toward the bedroom, completely unfazed.
“Let’s make some kids, then.”
“What?!” you laughed in disbelief, smacking his shoulder. “You’re insane!”
He just chuckled and dropped you onto the bed like it was nothing. You bounced slightly, still grinning in shock as he reached for the clothes he had folded neatly earlier.
“Relax. I’m kidding,” he said, slipping into his underwear and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. “No sex in my old bedroom. That’s just... weird.”
“Why? Because teenage Law thought kissing girls was gross?”
He gave you a look, amused. “Nah. But having all those figurines watching? That’s nightmare fuel. Always hated it.” He pointed to the shelves across the room—lined with neatly arranged figures, still standing guard like tiny plastic sentinels.
“Used to turn them around if I had a girl over.”
You burst out laughing. “That is... incredibly nerdy.”
“And also incredibly thoughtful,” he said with mock pride.
You rolled your eyes playfully and scooted to the edge of the bed to grab your sleeping clothes. “Nerdy and cute. Somehow, that combo works on you.”
A small smile tugged at Law’s lips as he settled beneath the sheets, watching you quietly change. He’d never really pictured himself with a family of his own—not in the traditional sense. To him, family had always been his parents, Rosinante, and the friends he’d grown to trust. That was enough. Or at least, it had been.
But now, with you in his life… the thought didn’t feel so far-fetched. It felt real. Possible. Maybe after university was behind you both, after a few years of carving out your careers—he could actually see it.
A future that wasn’t just ambition and survival, but warmth.
A home.
He stayed quiet as you switched off the light and slid under the covers, curling instinctively into his side like always. Your presence was grounding, familiar. Right.
Do y'all ever read a fic so good that it makes you want to elevate your own craft and also befriend the writer? It's almost like, "Hi! You write so well that you've inspired me to embark on a creative training arc. Also, can I yell about the character in your dms because you get it?"
Summary: It was long overdue for you to properly meet his parents. Nerves were gnawing at you — the last time you’d seen them hadn’t ended well. Now was the time to make amends and finally get to know Law’s hometown.
Tags: Law x Reader, Modern AU, dinner with his parents, father son convo, talks about your future, sfw
a.n: I really need to stop apologizing for showing up randomly and late — it’s become a habit. Still, I hope you enjoy the chapter; there’s some sweet fluff waiting for you at the end.
[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]
"Crazy how the weather can change so much..." you muttered quietly, gazing out the window of the sea train as it sped toward the icy North Blue. The once-clear skies had darkened, and the air inside the cabin felt colder with every passing mile.
"Have you even seen snow before?"
You turned to Law, unimpressed, only to be met with his signature smug grin.
"Of course I have. Have you ever seen the sun?"
Law rolled his eyes, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips as he shifted in his seat, settling in more comfortably. The trip back to his hometown never really bothered him—if anything, he found it strangely soothing. The vast, open sea stretching out on either side of the train and the steady rhythm of the waves as they sliced through the water helped quiet the usual noise in his mind.
"...Are you nervous?"
You knew exactly what he meant. With a slow exhale, your gaze drifted back to the window. “The first meeting with your parents wasn’t exactly… ideal.”
“Would it help if I told you they’re probably just as nervous?”
“You sure?”
“Mom? Definitely. Dad? ...Less so. But yeah, he’s probably overthinking it too.”
His tone was easy, but there was something grounding in it—reassuring in a way only he could be. You weren’t doing this alone. Not this time. He was here, beside you.
You hummed softly, mostly to yourself, leaning back in your seat. Eyes half-lidded, you tried to let the steady rhythm of the train, the gentle sway and the muted hum of the tracks, lull you into something resembling calm. If nothing else, you could at least enjoy the ride.
After hours of swaying train cars, muffled conversations, and the steady clatter of wheels over rails, the sea train finally rolled into Flevance station with a sigh of brakes and a hiss of steam.
You stepped onto the platform, the weight of the long journey still clinging to your limbs. Law followed close behind, hauling both your bags like it was nothing. And then the cold hit—sharp and immediate, slicing through every layer you wore. Your breath caught. Goosebumps flared across your skin. No matter how many coats or scarves you packed, the North had a way of reaching right through them.
From the corner of your eye, you could feel Law watching you.
You turned just in time to catch his expression—one part amusement, one part smugness. Of course he was fine. Dressed like it was fall instead of the dead of winter: jeans, a hoodie, a beanie slouched over his hair. No coat. No gloves. Not even a flinch.
“Cold?” he asked, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as he stepped ahead with an easy, practiced stride—like he’d never left this place.
You tugged your scarf up higher, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “What? No. I’m great, actually.”
He threw a glance over his shoulder that said he didn’t believe a word of it.
“Good,” he drawled, shifting the bags with practiced ease. “Because if you’re not cold, we could just walk. My parents’ place isn’t far. Thirty minutes on foot. Max. You’ll love it—especially dodging the black ice. Wouldn’t want you cracking that pretty head open.”
You laughed, breath puffing out in white wisps. The snark was ready on your tongue—but then you saw it, just as you exited the train station and stepped on the pavement together.
Flevance.
The city stretched out before you, blanketed in pristine snow. Under the pale winter sunlight, the buildings gleamed like they’d been dusted with powdered sugar. The air was sharp and clean, and everything seemed… quiet. Not empty, just still. Like the snow had softened the edges of the world.
You stood there for a moment, letting your gaze wander. You could almost picture it: a much smaller Law, trudging through these streets with hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, collar turned up against the wind.
Your eyes shifted away from the city slowly. Off to the side, a neat row of taxis waited along the curb, each one idling quietly, their drivers leaned back in their seats with practiced patience. The thought of sliding into a warm car, letting the heater blast against your frozen hands—it was dangerously tempting.
But Law wasn’t about to make this easy.
“Or,” he said, tipping his head toward the line of cabs as he continued his tease from before, “you wanna admit defeat and grab a taxi, Miss ‘I’m not cold at all’?” The grin on his face was downright evil.
You rolled your eyes, teeth chattering just a little.
“…Fine,” you muttered. “It’s cold. Taxi it is.”
He chuckled as if he’d won a battle, and helped you load your things into the trunk. Law took the front seat, chatting casually with the driver, while you sank gratefully into the back. The heater kicked in almost immediately, thawing your fingers as the city began to slip past the window.
The bustling heart of Flevance faded as the car wound its way into quieter, more refined neighborhoods. The streets grew wider. The homes, grander. Space became a luxury—and here, it was everywhere. Snow clung to wrought-iron gates and lined stone walkways like frosting on a cake.
You pressed your cheek lightly against the cold glass, watching it all pass by.
It was a different world for you.
And for the first time since arriving, you felt like you were stepping into Law’s story—not just hearing about it, but walking the same streets, breathing the same air.
Even if it was way too cold.
The car eased to a stop in front of an estate that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread, letting you two exist and grab your luggage. The house stretched wide and elegant across the snowy landscape, its grand façade framed by tall iron gates and carefully sculpted hedges now dusted with snow. As the driver pulled away, the cold crept back in, and you stood there for a moment beside Law, your breath fogging in the icy air.
You tilted your head, arms folded tight against the chill. “You know,” you said, eyeing the long driveway leading up to the house, “you can always tell how rich someone is by how far the front door is from the gate.”
Law arched a brow, already pressing the doorbell. “Never understood the appeal of a long-ass driveway anyway.”
You gave him a sidelong look, grinning. “To show off how rich you are, obviously.”
He glanced at you, deadpan. “You can sleep outside in the snow if you keep that shit going.”
The gate buzzed and clicked open, and you let out a quiet chuckle as you both stepped through.
The walk to the front door was slow and cautious, the stone path slick with ice in places. You shuffled forward, trying to maintain dignity while not landing flat on your cheeks. Law, naturally, walked like the ice didn’t even exist.
At the door, warm light spilled out as it opened to reveal two smiling figures: Lea and Matheo, bundled in sweaters and radiating that familiar warmth of parents who’d been waiting by the window. As soon as you stepped inside, a wave of heat wrapped around you, so comforting it was almost overwhelming.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Lea said, pulling Law into a hug so tight he had to shift your bags to one arm. “It’s so lovely to see you again. You really should visit more often.”
Law looked vaguely cornered, but you caught the faintest tug of a smile on his lips.
Matheo turned to you with a kind expression. “It’s nice to see you too, Y/N.” His voice was soft, like he was trying to bridge something left unspoken since the ceremony. You appreciated it more than you let on.
“Thank you for having me,” you said, still thawing out. “I’m definitely not used to this kind of cold.”
“Oh right, winters aren’t like this in the East, are they? I nearly forgot,” Lea said, finally letting go of her son and turning her full attention to you. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”
She ushered you through the entryway, where your boots and jacket were quickly replaced with cozy slippers. As you followed her into the house, your eyes roamed curiously, taking in the space. This was Law’s childhood home. You’d imagined it before, but seeing it was something else entirely.
It was elegant, no doubt—high ceilings, tasteful décor, furniture that looked like it belonged in an art gallery. But there were touches of real life scattered everywhere: slightly crooked photo frames, kids’ drawings still taped to the walls, worn out books messily scattered on every possible surface.
It wasn't just a house, but a home...
The living room gave way to a sprawling kitchen, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered like a warm blanket. You took a deep breath, already starting to feel your fingers again. Through the wide glass door leading into the garden, you spotted something that made you blink: a barbecue grill, smoke rising into the frozen air.
You raised an eyebrow. “Wait… are we actually grilling?”
Law smirked. “Forgot to mention that?”
Lea handed you a mug, her laughter warm. “This is the North—we adapt.”
You cradled the coffee gratefully, inhaling the steam. “We’ll have to do it in the East one day. I’ll show you how to grill without frostbite.”
“We'd love that,” Lea chuckled and looked at her husband, who nodded in agreement with a smile. He was already shrugging into his jacket, which had been draped over a kitchen chair. He moved with an easy calm, but there was something deliberate in the way he glanced at his son.
“Law, give me a hand out there?”
“Sure dad.”
He gave you a quick look, like he was checking in before heading off. “Wanna come outside or stay warm with Mom?”
You laughed, hugging your coffee to your chest. “I’ve made enough bad life choices. I’ll stay inside, thanks.”
Law disappeared to grab his shoes, and you watched as the two of them stepped out into the snow. Just before the glass door slid shut behind them, Law reached for a bottle on the counter—something clear that looked oodly familiar—and two small glasses.
Vodka. Not just for the taste. More like armor against the cold.
You watched them through the window for a moment, two silhouettes in the white haze, father and son side by side in the swirling snow.
Inside, you stayed with Lea, setting the table and falling into a surprisingly easy rhythm. The conversation flowed effortlessly, the kind that starts light but somehow ends up deeper than you expect—full of little laughs and unexpected warmth. You hadn’t anticipated it, not after everything, but something about her made it easy to let your guard down.
Outside, Law stood beside his father, boots crunching softly on the snow-packed stone as they hovered near the grill. Smoke curled upward into the winter sky while the fire popped and hissed beneath the lid.
“It’s good to have you back,” Matheo said, placing skewers across the grill before lowering the lid. “How’s the hospital now that you’ve got that first diploma under your belt?”
Law wiped a bit of coal dust from his fingers and slipped his hands into his pockets. He hesitated—part of him tempted to offer the usual half-answer. But after everything, especially after how things had nearly fallen apart with you, he’d made a quiet promise to stop pretending everything was fine.
He glanced at the smoke curling in the air, then at his father.
“Honestly? It’s been shit.”
Matheo didn’t react with surprise at first—just gave a slow nod as he reached for the bottle sitting nearby. And Law was quite grateful for it. He uncapped it and poured two shots of clear liquor. They clinked them together without a word and drank, the silence between them as heavy and meaningful as the conversation.
“Professors giving you hell?”
Law gave a slight shrug. “Some of them, yeah. But… that’s not the main thing.” His breath came out in a visible cloud as he stared into the steam rising from the grill. “Things didn’t go well with Y/N after the ceremony.”
Matheo glanced over, curiosity—and something else, too. Hope, maybe, that his son might finally open up. “We talked about it, your mom and I,” he said. “Rosinante told us some of what happened. We’re sorry, Law. We didn’t realize how much damage we’d done.”
Law gave a small nod. “Thanks, Dad. But… I messed up too.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze fixed on the liquid in his glass. “Y/N was disappointed. Rightfully so. I let her walk into that whole situation blind. You guys didn’t even know I was bringing someone, let alone someone with history tied to Yuki.”
That name settled between them like a stone dropped into still water.
Matheo didn’t speak at first, just took another sip. His gaze was steady, his voice low. “There’s more to that, isn’t there?”
Law nodded again, slower this time. “I told Y/N everything. About Lamy. About Yuki. She deserves the truth.” He sighed again, deeper this time. Maybe this wasn’t the best moment to drop everything on his father, but it had been a long time coming. This secret had sat too long between them, and he knew it would change how Matheo saw Yuki. But it had to.
“She does,” Matheo said softly. He turned toward Law fully now, the quiet weight of fatherhood sitting in his posture. “Especially if she matters to you.”
“More than anything...,” Law replied without hesitation. “And I almost lost her dad... Because I thought I had to handle everything on my own.”
The words hung in the air for a beat. Then he sighed, downed the rest of his glass in one go, and poured another. His hand shook just slightly as he set the bottle down.
“I told her the full story,” he continued. “And I need you to hear it too.”
Matheo said nothing, just stood quietly and listened as Law told him everything—how it started with Yuki, the history that bound them, the manipulation, the things she did to you… and what she nearly cost him.
By the time Law finished, Matheo’s brows had drawn together, his jaw tight. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t question. He simply reached for his glass, emptied it, and poured a fresh one for them both.
“That…” he began, shaking his head slowly, “sounds like a damn fever dream.”
Law laughed once—dry and flat. “Feels like one too.”
“And she did all that?” Matheo asked, brows furrowing deeper. “To you? To Y/N? Out of what—spite? Jealousy?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Law muttered, rubbing his hands together more out of habit than cold. “Control, maybe. She was good at it. Scarily good.”
Matheo cursed under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. His expression hovered between fury and disbelief, but beneath it all was a flash of something deeper—helplessness. He wished he’d known sooner. Wished he could’ve seen the signs, stepped in, shielded his son before it ever got this far. Law was his only child. And the thought that he’d suffered in silence, carrying all of this alone… it cut deeper than words could reach.
But beneath it all was something else—relief, maybe, or a quiet kind of pride. Law had finally told him the truth. No walls, no half-truths, no pretending. Just honesty. And Matheo clung to that. He told himself to focus on what mattered now, not drown in guilt over what he couldn’t change.
He hadn’t been there for Law then. But he could be here now. Present. Listening. Showing up in the ways that counted.
“Thanks for telling me,” Matheo said at last, his voice low but steady. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips as he reached out, resting a firm hand on Law’s shoulder and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “If you ever need to talk more—about any of it—you can call me. Anytime, alright? Even if I’m working, I’ll make time. Always.”
Law offered a crooked grin. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it… and—sorry for dropping a bomb on you in the middle of a barbecue.”
Matheo chuckled, the sound weary but genuine. “Not the first time you’ve shaken up dinner.”
They might’ve said more, but the kitchen door creaked open, and Lea poked her head out with a grin, your figure right behind her with a warm smile.
“Well? Are we eating tonight or waiting for the next solstice?” she called, her breath puffing into the cold.
“We’re coming!” Matheo replied, already moving to lift the lid and start plating the food. The meat was perfectly grilled, the smell rich and savory as they transferred everything into a large pot, sealing it up tight against the cold.
Law glanced at you through the glass door. You were smiling, eyes bright—and he felt something shift. A quiet peace.
Together, they headed back inside, the rush of warmth greeting them immediately. The dining table was already beautifully set, covered with an array of colorful, mouthwatering side dishes. It looked like a feast—comforting, hearty, and made with care.
Law glanced at you as he set the pot down, something lighter in his eyes now. Maybe things weren’t fixed yet—but this, all of it, felt like a start.
Dinner passed with a surprising lightness. Whatever conversation had taken place between Law and Matheo outside seemed to have lifted much of the tension that had hovered over the afternoon. The atmosphere now felt warmer—easier. You found yourself growing more comfortable, especially as you and Lea fell into friendly conversation, getting to know each other better over bites of perfectly grilled food and rich side dishes.
“Heard Law told you a bit about our little sunshine, Lamy?” Matheo said, his tone light as he sliced into a piece of tender, marinated meat, a fond smile tugging at his lips.
You looked up from your plate, a little caught off guard. The name had weight, even in its gentlest form. You hadn’t expected them to bring up their daughter—especially not in the middle of dinner. But both of Law’s parents wore expressions filled with warmth, not sorrow.
“A bit, yes…” you said softly, unsure however. “Though... not in much detail.”
Lea gave a quiet, wistful laugh. “You two would’ve gotten along. We hadn’t planned on having two kids, but she was the best surprise life ever gave us.”
Law let out a mock-offended scoff, raising an eyebrow. “And what does that make the firstborn?”
"You were our trial run sweetheart,” Lea teased, grinning.
Law shook his head, but his grin said he didn’t mind the teasing. You couldn’t help but laugh with them, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. This wasn’t just a family meal—it felt like being let into something sacred. A quiet kind of intimacy .
“If you two want to dig through some old memories later, the photo albums are all in the office,” Lea offered with a smile as she stood to refill the water and wine.
“Maybe after dinner,” Law murmured, glancing down at his plate. “And a hot shower.”
He stretched slightly, then yawned mid-motion—clearly not as awake as he wanted to be.
“Tired as always, huh?” Matheo asked, casual and knowing.
“Yeah. Long week. Same as always.”
“When is it not a long week?” Matheo chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “You’ve got to slow down before your body makes the choice for you.”
“He’s picked up kendo again,” you chimed in, looking over at Law. “That’s been eating up what little free time he had.”
At that, both parents paused, brows rising in near-unison.
Law leaned back, his plate cleared, and took the fresh glass of wine his mom handed him with a quiet nod of thanks.
“Seriously?” Matheo asked in disbeliefe.
Law took a sip, slow and thoughtful, then glanced your way—his silent cue for you to tell the story. It had started with you, after all.
“We went a tournament—friend of mine was competing. It stirred up some old instincts, I guess. Same friend’s been helping him train again,” you explained, setting your fork down. “Little by little. It’s been good for him.”
Law chuckled softly, rubbing at his eyes. “He’s ruthless. Doesn’t care if I’m exhausted. Says I need to ‘remember how to move like I mean it.’”
Lea’s eyes softened as a smile crept across her face. “Wow… Honestly, sweetheart, I never thought you’d pick up Kikoku again. Not after everything.”
Law didn’t reply right away, just looked down into his wine. Then, with a quiet shrug, he murmured, “Guess I missed it more than I realized.”
The table fell into a peaceful silence for a moment—not heavy, but reflective. Like everyone was letting that bit of truth settle before moving on.
Lea smiled as if recalling something distant but dear. It was clear the news meant a lot to her—she knew how much that practice used to help him unwind, especially after long days at school. After Lamy’s death, he’d slowly let go of so many things he once loved. To see him pick something back up again—it felt like a step forward.
It felt like your influence had something to do with it.
His parents could sense it—that subtle shift. Like the version of Law they remembered was slowly resurfacing. The one who used to light up over things he cared about, who smiled more easily, who carried a spark of life that had been missing for a long time.
Eventually, plates were scraped clean, glasses half-full of the last sips of wine, and the cozy lull of satisfaction settled over the table. Lea began gathering dishes, brushing off your offer to help with a gentle smile.
"You’re our guest tonight. Go on, relax," she said, stacking plates with practiced ease.
Matheo stretched in his chair and stood up with a low groan. “I’ll help her. You two head upstairs and get settled. It’s been a long day.”
Law gave a quiet nod of thanks and stood, waiting for you to follow. After a final round of smiles and goodnights, you walked with him through the hallway and up the stairs, his hand casually carrying your bags.
He led you into his old bedroom—its walls a deep navy, lined with band posters, certificates, and faded childhood photos. Bits of the past lingered here and there: crayon drawings, dusty toys, a few forgotten books. It felt like the room had been frozen in time since he left for university.
“That’s the bathroom,” he said, pointing to the door on your right. “And before you say anything—yes, I had my own. Spare me the commentary.” He shot you a playful grin as he set your bags down.
You smirked and rolled your eyes. “Sure, privileged northern boy. Not a word.”
You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him settle in beside you.
“…Feeling any better about my parents? “
“Sort of,” you admitted, exhaling as you let yourself fall back onto the mattress, eyes on the ceiling. “Had a nice chat with your mum. But it was all surface-level stuff—uni, weather, food…”
Law didn’t respond right away. He just watched you for a moment, then gave a small, thoughtful nod.
“What about you?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him. “Seemed like you had a good talk with your pa.”
Law let out a short chuckle, dropping his gaze as his fingers absently traced the ink on his knuckles. “Sort of… He asked how things went after the ceremony.”
You sat up a little straighter, curiosity sparking. “And?”
“I was honest. Told him it was a mess.” He exhaled heavily, still not meeting your eyes. “Told him about the fight, the whole Yuki situation… everything.”
“Wait—seriously? You told him all of it?”
He nodded. “Everything.”
You went quiet, letting that sink in. You always knew Law was blunt, that wasn’t the surprise. It was the fact that he’d opened to his father so quickly—that he didn’t hold anything back—that caught you off guard.
“And what did your old man say?” you asked, sitting up straighter and inching a little closer.
“He apologized for his part,” Law said, glancing at you briefly before his gaze drifted away again. “And he was shocked—about Yuki.”
“Wait... you actually told him everything she did?”
“Not every detail,” he said with a shrug. “Just the broad strokes.”
“Damn,” you murmured, letting yourself sink slowly back into the mattress. “And your mom?”
“Dad said he’d talk to her. He probably already is, knowing him.” Law let out a quiet sigh as he stood and crouched by his bag, digging through it for fresh clothes. Judging by his movements, he was gearing up for a shower—and just like that, the conversation was over for him.
But not for you. You couldn’t help it—you wanted more. Every little piece. Even if the questions spinning in your head didn’t have solid answers yet, curiosity had a tight grip on you. You had to talk about it.
“What do you think your mom’s reaction will be?” you asked, trying to sound casual.
Law folded his clothes with his usual precision, placed them on the bed and walked past the it toward the bathroom. “No idea. Probably shocked.” His voice was so nonchalant it was hard to tell if he really didn’t care—or was just good at pretending. He disappeared behind the bathroom door but didn’t bother closing it.
As he expected, you shifted, following him with a mind full of tangled questions.
“You think she’ll react differently than your dad?”
Law peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the water on. Normally, you’d be watching him, soaking in every inch of him—but right now, your brain was too loud to focus on anything else.
“Definitely,” he said with a soft sigh, stepping under the stream. He visibly relaxed beneath the warm water—warm by his standards, way too cold by yours. “She’s more emotional.”
“Oh, because she’s a woman?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.
Through the glass, Law shot you an incredulous look, his wet black hair plastered to his face as he rolled his eyes.
“No, dumbass. Cause after Lamy passed, she needed someone to mother. And Yuki fit that role,” he replied, voice calm and matter-of-fact.
The words hit you harder than you expected. You hadn’t thought of it that way. To you, Yuki had always been this villain—but this was something else.
“Do you think she’ll believe what you told your dad?” you asked, softer now.
“She will,” Law said without hesitation, closing his eyes as he lathered shampoo into his hair. “They both know I don’t make things up. And I don’t open up easily. They’ll take it seriously. Don’t stress about it.”
You went quiet for a moment, then nodded to yourself, knowing full well he couldn’t see it. “...A few more allies wouldn’t hurt.”
“Especially my parents.” He paused. “Not that I’m suggesting anything…”
You looked up, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
“But they’ve got connections. Ones Yuki depends on. If things blow up again… they could cut her off.”
Law opened his eyes and pushed his wet hair back, letting the water stream down his back. He wiped the fog off the shower glass and looked at you, his expression serious. "Honestly? She deserves everything coming to her after all the crap she pulled. If my son ever came to me with a story like that, I’d end her career without a second thought."
Something about the way he said it made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just the fierce protectiveness—it was the fact that he mentioned his son. The idea that he even thought about having kids. That was new. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but you'd never heard him say anything like that before.
You stared at him, caught off guard, your mind scrambling to catch up.
"What?" Law asked, chuckling as he turned away from the glass and rinsed the last of the shampoo from his hair. "Too harsh? Bad parenting?"
You blinked, finally managing to answer. “Nah. Honestly, I’d probably beat her up personally.”
Law laughed, shaking his head with a grin. You watched him for a moment before adding, more curious now, “I’ve just... never heard you talk about kids before.”
“I haven’t?” he asked, surprised. The water shut off with a final hiss.
“Nope.” You handed him a towel, which he took and ran over his skin in brisk motions before tying it around his waist—low enough to make your thoughts blur for a moment.
You leaned against the sink while Law grabbed a smaller towel and started drying his hair.
“Isn’t that the kind of topic you’re supposed to cover at the beginning of a relationship?” he asked, voice muffled slightly by the towel.
“Usually,” you said with a soft chuckle, watching him. “Could be a deal breaker if one person wants kids and the other doesn’t. But we kind of jumped into this whole thing without much planning.”
Law let out a low hum, pausing to glance at you. “Yeah... as the whole ceremony disaster proved, I’m not exactly great at handling emotions or recognizing when something’s serious.”
He wasn’t wrong. He had loved you long before he’d been ready to admit it—even to himself. He’d introduced you to his friends, to Rosinante, someone more important than his parents almost. You were already woven into his life, even if he hadn’t acknowledged what that really meant back then. So talking about the future hadn’t exactly been on the table—unless it involved career goals.
You tilted your head, playful but a little hesitant. “Wanna have the deal-breaker talk now?”
“Why not?”
Surprisingly, Law felt just as unsure about the conversation as you did—only he was better at hiding it behind that familiar stoic mask. He tossed the towel over his shoulder and looked straight at you.
“So,” he said, voice even, “you wanna have kids?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yup. Two at least. Only children tend to be brats.”
You raised an eyebrow with a grin. “That a scientific observation, Dr. Law?”
“Very.”
Without thinking much of it, you reached out and shook hands like you'd just signed a contract.
“Alright,” you said. “Deal.”
“Deal."
Just like that—like it was nothing—you’d agreed to build a future together. And somehow, that made it feel even more real.
"Fine," Law exhaled—then, without giving you a second to react, he suddenly hoisted you over his shoulder. “Hey—!” you gasped, flailing a little as you instinctively reached for the towel around his hips, desperately trying not to yank it off. He strolled casually back toward the bedroom, completely unfazed.
“Let’s make some kids, then.”
“What?!” you laughed in disbelief, smacking his shoulder. “You’re insane!”
He just chuckled and dropped you onto the bed like it was nothing. You bounced slightly, still grinning in shock as he reached for the clothes he had folded neatly earlier.
“Relax. I’m kidding,” he said, slipping into his underwear and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. “No sex in my old bedroom. That’s just... weird.”
“Why? Because teenage Law thought kissing girls was gross?”
He gave you a look, amused. “Nah. But having all those figurines watching? That’s nightmare fuel. Always hated it.” He pointed to the shelves across the room—lined with neatly arranged figures, still standing guard like tiny plastic sentinels.
“Used to turn them around if I had a girl over.”
You burst out laughing. “That is... incredibly nerdy.”
“And also incredibly thoughtful,” he said with mock pride.
You rolled your eyes playfully and scooted to the edge of the bed to grab your sleeping clothes. “Nerdy and cute. Somehow, that combo works on you.”
A small smile tugged at Law’s lips as he settled beneath the sheets, watching you quietly change. He’d never really pictured himself with a family of his own—not in the traditional sense. To him, family had always been his parents, Rosinante, and the friends he’d grown to trust. That was enough. Or at least, it had been.
But now, with you in his life… the thought didn’t feel so far-fetched. It felt real. Possible. Maybe after university was behind you both, after a few years of carving out your careers—he could actually see it.
A future that wasn’t just ambition and survival, but warmth.
A home.
He stayed quiet as you switched off the light and slid under the covers, curling instinctively into his side like always. Your presence was grounding, familiar. Right.
Summary: You damaged his sword a few times now and Zoro was clearly sick of it. He was frustrated which lead into anger. Anger he targeted at you. You knew he was right, and decided to apologize to him properly. This couldn’t end like this.
tags: One Piece Universe; Zoro x Reader, angry mosshead, or rather frustrated, fluff at the end ♡
Word Count: 1765
!Credit to the Artist!
“That’s the third time now—enough!”
His voice was sharp, a growl laced with frustration as he snatched the sword from your hands. You barely had time to react before he pulled it away, his grip firm, possessive.
You only wanted to test it out, to feel the weight of a real sword in your hands. He had let you before, even seemed eager to teach you, showing you the basics with an unusual patience. At first, he had enjoyed passing on his knowledge, guiding your movements with measured corrections. But each time, you had used his swords. And each time, your inexperience left its mark—nicks, scratches, damage to blades that were anything but ordinary.
He told you to get your own. More than once. But this wasn’t your weapon of choice; you were just experimenting, just trying to understand.
And now, this was the third time. The third time you had made a mistake, and this time, the tip of the blade was cracked.
Zoro had been patient—more patient than anyone would expect from him. He understood that learning took time. But his swords weren’t playthings, and he had warned you. Repeatedly.
You watched as he slid the damaged blade back into its scabbard with slow, deliberate movements. Then he stepped toward you.
The air between you thickened.
The way he stood—rigid, shoulders squared, gaze burning into you—made it clear. Right now, he didn’t see a friend or a crewmate. He saw someone who had ignored his warnings. Someone who had disrespected his weapons.
Summary: Trafalgar Law was a good roommate. He was organized, clean, paid rent on time, and minded his space. The only thing was—he was hot. Stupidly hot and annoyingly intelligent. But the closer you got to him, the more he seemed to pull away. As you became entangled in the shadows of his past, one question remained: would it draw you closer together or push you further apart?
Tags for the entire story (should cover everything, but no guarantees at this point): Modern AU, angst, fluff (sometimes), emotional conflict, feelings denial, swearing, suggestive, alcohol consumption, sex mentioned but nothing explicit (may be released as additional content, but not in the main story), kidnapping (kinda?), threatening, talk of loss and grief, nightmares, Doflamingo (a warning of its own)
Please tell me if you notice that I forgot to include something.
English is not my first language
It started as a longer one-shot, but I got carried away (nothing unusual for me) and had so many ideas for it that I decided to give it a go and turn it into a proper fic.
I have the whole story figured out, and some of it is already written, so I’m hoping to post at least biweekly (no promises though)🤞 For now, I expect the story to have 22 chapters and an epilogue, with possibly some additional content (Law’s POV of one chapter, and maybe smut scene)
i just have to say i’ve been patiently waiting for the next chapter of your law fic for forever and i was so over the moon excited before even reading it and even more excited after. the switch in control was just UGH so good!! i’m glad your back and i hope things have been good for you!
Idk why I'm always nervous when I read anon messages about my story, ahhhh I'm so glad you liked it! It took me really long to come up with something and smut takes me even longer, I don't want every smut scene to be the same ;v; Thank you for your message I'm always so happy about them! Seriously makes my day!
Wish you well anon! xoxo
Summary: You call an emergency meeting with your friends to figure out how to deal with Law’s unhinged ex—who crossed the line by sending two punks to break into your home. The discussion quickly turns chaotic, with no real solution in sight. But amidst the frustration and tension, something shifts. The situation brings out a side of you that no one, not even you, had fully realized before.
Tags: Law x Reader, Modern Au, the gang with penguin shachi nami and bonney, Reader dominating Law ♡ n.sfw
a.n.: I'm back from the fucking dead, took me a good while. Personal life had me in a sexy choke hold. Anyway hope you enjoy the smut which is like 4k words long opsi...Enjoy! ♡
[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]
“Damn nice, Y/N! High five!”
“It’s not fucking nice, you idiots!”
Nami’s hand snapped sharply across the back of Shachi and Penguin’s head, cutting their excitement short about you wielding Kikoku like a hero in some cliche action movie, even though you didn't one. The two were still grinning like fools, impressed that you’d scared those punks away, but Nami wasn't in for cheers, clearly.
“This is serious!”
You sat across from them in the armchair, your arms folded tightly over your chest, unconsciously protecting yourself. You were starting to regret even telling your friends, but at the same time, there was a small sense of relief. Knowing that they were aware of what had happened made you feel less...alone.
“Yeah, it’s not funny—ouch! What the fuck Nami?!”
“And you-!” Nami whipped around to point at Law, her anger now zeroing in on your boyfriend who just came back from work. He almost regretted coming home. His ears were already ringing. “What were you thinking with that whole ‘let me go to their place and work out a deal’ crap? What’s wrong with you?!”
"I was trying to fix things!" Law shot back, his voice edged with frustration. He barely had the energy to argue, but the accusation grated on his nerves.
With a tired sigh, he dropped into a chair, yanking off his helmet and tossing it into some forgotten corner. After hours of exhaustion, the last thing he needed was a lecture testing what little patience he had left.
“Fix things? Fix things?! You’re lucky you didn’t get stabbed, dumbass!”
“Not gonna lie Law, I didn’t see that one coming,” Bonney chimed in, crossing her legs as she lounged against the couch. Her face was painted with equal parts disbelief and judgment. “That area’s shady as hell. What were you even hoping to accomplish by showing up there?”
You silently agreed Bonney’s words. As much as you appreciated Law’s protectiveness, what he’d done was reckless. Whatever information he was looking for, you could’ve told him—if you hadn’t been too shaken up that night to give him the full story.
“Yeah, seriously,” Penguin added, still rubbing the back of his head where Nami had landed her hit. “What kind of ‘help’ could they even offer?”
“I don’t know, alright? It felt like having them on our side wasn’t the worst idea. Yuki’s clearly up to something illegal.”
“Oh great, so hiring two random thugs who also do illegal shit is your genius plan?” Nami shot back, her tone was dripping with furious sarcasm.
“Nami’s right,” Bonney agreed yet again, tossing her hands up. “Besides, you’ve got Shachi and Penguin. No need for hired muscle. Those two are perfectly capable for stupid shit.”
“Hey what's that supposed to mean?!”
"I'm not going to drag my friends into illegal matters!"
“Oh for fuck’s sake, this isn’t helping!” Nami cut in, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was getting out of hand, and no one was actually being helpful.
“Well then you come up with something better!” Penguin shot back defensively.
“How about—oh, I don’t know—calling the cops?”
“With what evidence?”
"You got three witnesses don't you?"
"Yea, nah forget about that. I promised them to not call the cops on them."
"Why?!"
"It was a deal for fucks sake!"
"Fuck your stupid deal!"
The room spiraled into overlapping voices as everyone tried to argue their point, while you watched from the sideline. Frustration buzzed like static electricity, and the longer it went on, the tighter your chest felt. You couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much.
“Enough, please!”
The room fell silent. Everyone turned to look at you, the sudden sound of your voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. You let out a shaky breath, forcing yourself to sit up straighter.
“Yelling at each other isn’t helping. And neither is reckless shit like barging into their place...”
Law’s gaze softened slightly, but he didn’t respond.
“...Nor trying to call the cops on someone who clearly knows what she’s doing,” you continued, casting a glance at Nami.
Nami opened her mouth but hesitated. The edge in her voice disappeared, her expression shifting to something more grounded. “What’s your plan, then?
You leaned your head back into the armchair, exhaling slowly. For the first time, you felt a little more in control, a little more sure of yourself. The panic that had gripped you earlier was gone, replaced with something steadier, sharper.
This wasn’t about Law, not really. It wasn’t even about you, not in the way it seemed on the surface.
It was all about control.
She was proving the power she held over you—how effortlessly she could manipulate your emotions and those of everyone around you. First, she tricked you with her charm. Then, she turned Law’s parents against you. And finally, she even deceived two completely uninvolved people—Kid and Killer—just to terrify you.
While doing all of that, she also proved just how untouchable she was. And so, you were left completely hopeless at her mercy.
But you refused to give her that satisfaction any longer.
"I'm going to play by her rules," you said suddenly, your voice steady—calm, but unshakable.
The words hung in the air like a bombshell.
“What?!”
“You can’t be serious..."
“Y/N, don’t let her drag you down to her level."
Across the room, Law sat in silence, his forearms resting loosely on his knees. Though his posture seemed calm, the slight furrow of his brows and the tight line of his lips told a different story. He wasn’t rushing to argue, but his silence wasn’t surrender either.
He was watching you carefully, trying to piece together your motive.
You sat forward, clasping your hands together. “It’s not about getting even. It’s about showing her that she can’t control me—or anyone else. She thrives on chaos. That’s her fuel. If I take it away…”
“You don’t think that’s a huge risk?” Shachi cut in, his voice laced with concern. “What if it backfires?”
A faint smile crossed your lips as you leaned back into the chair. “That’s what backup is for, isn’t it?”
“You’re seriously considering working with them?”
“It’s a win-win. Kid and Killer already have their own grudge against her. Yuki fed them some bullshit about Law’s apartment being empty so they could rob it—now they’re pissed.”
Law raised his eyebrows slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Smart move, he thought, though he wasn’t surprised—you always had a sharp mind.
What did catch him off guard, though, was how determined you were—not just to get back at Yuki, but to do it with precision, with style. You weren’t acting on blind rage; you understood her motives, and you were using that against her.
And damn, if that didn’t make you even more captivating in his eyes.
Your gaze swept across the room until it landed on Law.
He leaned back slightly, his posture more relaxed now, but there was something else. The way he was looking at you—it was the same way he did when you had him teetering on the edge of desire.
A slow, heated stare that sent a shiver down your spine.
Goosebumps prickled your skin, but you forced yourself to stay calm, refusing to let him see just how much that look affected you.
Bonney’s voice snapped you back to reality, pulling you from the intensity of Law’s gaze. You turned to look at her, shaking off the lingering heat in your chest.
"And what exactly are you planning to do?" she asked, arms crossed, curiosity laced with skepticism.
You met her eyes without hesitation. "Wait for the right moment to hit her where it hurts."
Taking a deep breath, you slid your keys into the freshly repaired lock and pushed the door open. Even after everything that had happened, you refused to let fear dictate your life. This was your home. No one would take that from you. Not after the break-in. Not ever.
You tossed your bag aside, the sound of it hitting the floor punctuating your resolve. Law followed close behind, shutting the door with a quiet click.
“You sure you want to stay here—”
The entire ride back to your apartment, everyone—including your boyfriend—kept asking if you were sure about going home after the break-in. You understood their concern, but you refused to let Yuki dictate your life and the constant questioning grated on your nerves. Going back to your apartment was the first step in taking back control.
Law blinked, slightly taken aback. Something about you was... different. And frankly, he wasn’t sure how to handle it.
You dropped onto the couch with a heavy sigh, muttering under your breath, “If she pulls something like this again, I’ll make sure she gets locked up in some filthy, rat-infested cell where she belongs.”
Law leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he watched you from a distance. His raised eyebrow caught your attention.
“What?” you snapped, your eyes narrowing dangerously as you focused on him.
He didn’t answer. Just tilted his head, observing you like you were some kind of unsolved mystery.
“For fuck’s sake, speak. Use your words, Law.”
“It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug, though the hint of a smirk tugged at his lips as he moved to sit beside you rubbed you the wrong way. Clearly, it wasn’t nothing. You weren’t stupid—you knew exactly what was on his mind.
“What?” you pressed again, voice sharper now. “What do you expect me to do? Roll over and play the victim? Cry to some cop or, worse, those two useless punks? Hell no. I’m done with her games.”
Law glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and for some reason, it made your blood boil. His silence grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
“What’s your problem?” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to face him. You inched closer, your brow furrowed in frustration. “Spit it out, already.”
He tilted his head again, that infuriating little grin growing wider by the second.
Your patience snapped. “Listen here, just because you thought dating some unhinged psycho was a good idea doesn’t mean I’m going to deal with the fallout! First, she leads me into a dangerous situation, then she breaks into my home, and let’s not forget—she mocked me. Right in front of your parents!” You jabbed your finger into his chest to emphasize each word, but Law didn’t flinch. If anything, the grin on his face grew.
Seeing him so smug only fueled your frustration. “I’ll show her what East Blue people are made of. She messed with the wrong person. And if she thinks she can come between us? She can fuck right off. You’re mine, Law. Mine.”
Law’s grin turned into a full-on lazy smirk, his stormy eyes finally meeting yours. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” You were practically nose-to-nose with him, your fiery determination burning brighter than ever.
He studied you for a long moment, clearly enjoying the spark in your eyes, the raw defiance that radiated off you in waves. He loved seeing you like this, even if he’d never admit it out loud.
But just as he opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly sassy, you cut him off, your voice a quiet, a lethal whisper.
“You’re mine.”
The words hung heavy in the air. For a split second, his smirk faltered. You caught it—that flicker of surprise in his eyes, the subtle hitch in his breath. He wasn’t used to this. Not from you. Not this unrelenting dominance.
You were done being the victim, suffocated by everything Yuki had put you through. The frustration had been building, and now, it was spilling over. Control—something you had been desperate to reclaim—was shifting, and this time, it was aimed at Law.
“And what exactly do you plan to do about it?” he challenged you clearly, his tone light but laced with something deeper, something that sent a shiver down your spine.
You didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. Instead, you closed the remaining distance between you, your body pressing flush against his. Laws back hit the edge of the couch, his balance faltering for just a moment as you pushed him down onto the cushions. His hands instinctively reached out to steady himself, but you were already straddling him, pinning him in place.
“What the—” Law started, but you cut him off with a searing kiss, your lips claiming his with a wildness that left no room for argument. It wasn’t soft nor gentle; it was hungry, demanding, and it caught him completely off guard. His hands gripped your hips, whether to push you away or pull you closer, you weren’t sure—and you didn’t care. All that mattered was the way his body responded to yours, the way his breath stuttered against your lips, the way his usually composed facade began to crack.
When you finally pulled back, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. There was no trace of that smug smirk now—just unfiltered intensity.
“What’s the matter, Law?” you purred, your voice low and teasing as you leaned in closer, “Not so confident now, are you?”
He let out a low, breathless laugh, his grip tightening on your hips. “Rage suits you,” he admitted, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.
“Don’t get used to it…,” you replied, nipping at his earlobe before trailing kisses down his neck. Every touch was deliberate, every movement designed to unravel him completely. You could feel the way his muscles tensed beneath you, the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way his breathing grew more erratic with each passing second.
And then, with a suddenness that made him gasp, you rolled your hips against his, grinding down hard. His head fell back against the cushions, a low growl escaping his throat, “F-Fuck...”
“That’s the idea,” you quipped, grinning as you continued while your hands roaming over his chest, slipping beneath his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin.
Your lips found his again, this time softer but no less insistent. He kissed you back with equal fervor, his tongue tangling with yours in a heated dance. His hands slid up your sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake, before settling on your shoulders. He tried to shift, to regain some semblance of control, but you weren’t having it. You broke the kiss just long enough to grab his wrists, pinning them above his head.
His eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, you thought he might fight back. But then, something shifted in his expression—a dark, daring spark that made your heart race. “Will you look at that…,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Looks like someone’s feeling bold tonight.”
“You don't like the taste of your own medicine, hm?,” you shot back, your confidence not faltering for one second. You leaned down, capturing his lips once more, your bodies pressed so tightly together there was no space left for doubt, no room for hesitation.
His hips bucked against yours, a silent plea for more, and you obliged, rolling yours in slow, deliberate circles against his clothed core. The friction was maddening, the heat building between you almost unbearable. He groaned against your lips, his restraint slipping further with each passing second.
You released his wrists, letting your hands roam freely over his body, exploring every inch of him. His shirt was discarded in one swift motion, tossed aside without a second thought. His bare chest was a canvas of lean muscle and inked skin, and you traced them with your fingertips, marveling at how his breath hitched with every touch.
“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “If you keep this up…”
“What?” you teased, pausing to look him in the eye. “You will what?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed your hips and tried flipped you over, but you were quicker. You grabbed his wrists once more and harshly pinned them down again.
“No,” you repeated, your voice firm but laced with a dangerous edge. “You don’t get to take control tonight.”
"You really dare huh?", he asked, his voice was weaker, almost out of breath, lacking any real bite. The sudden shift of roles took Law by surprise, and we wasn't quite sure what to make of it.
Your lips curled into a sly smile as your fingers deftly worked the buckle, the leather sliding free with a soft hiss. “You have no idea,” You didn’t give him time to respond, didn’t let him regain that smug composure he wore so well. Instead, you leaned in, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, “Hands.”
Law raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his gaze. But before he could retort, you grabbed his wrists, pulling them together firmly. He didn’t resist, not really, though you could feel the slight tension in his muscles, the way his body instinctively wanted to push back against being restrained. It isn’t often someone takes control from him, you thought, a thrill running through you at the realization.
You looped the belt around his wrists, tightening it just enough to hold him in place without causing discomfort. His pulse thudded beneath your fingertips, steady but quickening as you secured the makeshift restraint. You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze, and for once, the smirk on his face wasn’t entirely mocking. There was something different there, something hungry.
“Good boy,” you purred, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t protest. Instead, he tilted his head, his expression shifting into something more predatory, even with his hands remained bound.
"You're enjoying this too much," he growled, his voice low and edged with danger. It felt like you had caught a wild wolf, testing the limits of its restraint. And you were reveling in it.
Slowly, you straightened your posture, letting a smug smile curl on your lips as you met his gaze head-on. "You look beautiful like this, sweetheart." A light chuckle escaped your lips, as you gently grabbed his jaw and turned it from side to side, inspecting your little prey.
“You little...,” he muttered, his voice strained, his usual smirk replaced by something far more primal.
Amusement formed on your lips, as you slowly began to undress the last bits of clothes off him. The belt was gone already, and his jeans followed suit with his underwear. You left Law naked on the couch, as you stood in front of him to undress yourself.
You could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard, watching you take of your clothes like it was a strip show. You lifted your top painfully slow and revealed your tits tightly caged in your bra, snapped it open and made them spill out. In a sensual manner, you swayed your hips to wiggle out of your underwear, just to present yourself in all your glory. Law wanted to touch you so badly, with his hands tied above his head, it was simply impossible. He dug his nails into the leather of his belt, flexing his arms while he was restrained.
"You're going to pay for this..." His voice was weaker than before, lust fogging his brain. He didn't know what you were doing to him, he was truly at your mercy.
"Big words for someone in your position..." A low chuckle left your lips as your straddled him once more. You grabbed between your thighs to get a hold on his throbbing cock, rubbing it painful slow against your wet folds. Law let out a shivering moan. Fuck, he wasn't used to being teased. This was sweet torture. "Tonight you're my little toy to play with."
"Tch, don't get ahead of yours-ah, f-fuck...!" He couldn't even finish his weak words of defense. You already lowered yourself on his cock, letting him enter inch by inch.
His head fell back against the couch, a strangled sound escaping his throat as you moved, taking what you wanted from him without restraint. You rode him slowly at first, bouncing your hips in a controlled manner as you watched Law beneath you with intense eyes. His wrists were bound tightly with his own belt, the leather digging into his skin every time he tried to tug against it. He was yours. Completely, utterly yours. And you were going to make sure he felt it.
"Ah... shit..." Law’s voice cracked, his jaw clenched as he tried to keep some semblance of composure. But it was hard—so damn hard—when you were moving like that, your hips rolling with a maddening rhythm that had his toes curling against the couch cushions. "You’re—ugh—you’re fucking cruel, you know that?"
You smirked, leaning forward slightly to hover over him, your breath hot against his ear mixed with moans escaping your lips. "Cruel?" you purred, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "It's cruel when I do it, but not when you're the one on top?" You punctuated your words with a sharp grind of your hips, drawing a low groan from him that made your stomach twist with satisfaction.
Law’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Fuck... I didn’t—ah—mean it like that..." he managed to choke out, his words breaking as you shifted again, your walls tightening around him in a way that made his head spin.
You chuckled softly, your fingers trailing down his chest, nails lightly scraping over his skin. "Too late," you murmured, your voice low and teasing. "You’ve been driving me crazy for weeks. Always so… in control. Always so smug. But not tonight." You leaned back, your hands resting on his thighs as you increased your pace slightly, watching him unravel beneath you.
Law’s breath hitched, his hips jerking upward instinctively, but you pressed a firm hand against his stomach, pinning him down. "Uh-uh," you chided, your voice firm but laced with amusement. "You’re not in charge here. Tonight, you’re going to take what I give you. And you’re going to like it."
"Bitch..." he growled with a weak grin, though there was no real venom in his tone. If anything, it sounded more like a plea, his voice trembling with a mix of frustration and need.
You laughed, the sound deep and throaty, and it only seemed to make him squirm more. "Call me whatever you want, baby," you said, your voice dripping with confidence. "But we both know you’re loving this."
He didn’t respond—couldn’t respond—as you began to move faster, your hips slamming down onto him with a force that made his vision blur. His hands clenched into fists, the leather of the belt creaking softly as he pulled against it, but he was trapped. Helpless. And it was driving him wild.
"Fuck... fuck..." Law’s voice was barely above a whisper now, his usual composure shattered as he stared up at you with wide, desperate eyes. "You had your fun, let me just-..."
You tilted your head, a slow, wicked smile spreading across your lips. "You’re going to take it," you whispered, your voice husky and full of promise. "Because I’m not done with you yet."
You leaned forward again, your hands gripping the back of the couch on either side of his head as you ground down against him, your movements slow and deliberate. Your lips brushed against his ear, your breath warm as you spoke. "You look so good like this..."
He let out a choked moan, his hips jerking upward again, but you held him down easily, your body moving in a way that left him gasping. "You’re mine tonight," you continued, your voice soft but commanding. "And I’m going to make sure you remember it."
"S-Surley, you learned from the best after all...." he managed to rasp somehow confident but he was melting in your tight grip, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to ignore the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him. Every movement, every word, only seemed to push him closer to the edge.
Law let out a throaty moan as you pushed down just at the right angle. His head rolled back against the couch, his body shuddering beneath you. You licked your lips in satisfaction, your hips moving faster now, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.
His breath hitched, his body tensing as he teetered on the edge, his hands tugging uselessly against the belt above his head, making his muscles flex and pop out even more. "I—fuck, I’m going to—"
"Not yet," you interrupted, your voice firm as you slowed your movements, pulling back just enough to keep him on that knife’s edge. "Not until I say so."
Law let out a strangled moan, biting down on his lips as he tried to regain some semblance of control. But it was no use. You had him exactly where you wanted him, and he knew it.
You leaned down again, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, "Now."
That one word seemed to shatter whatever restraint he had left. His body tensed, his hips jerking upward as he came with a low, guttural groan that seemed to echo through the room. You watched him, a satisfied smile playing on your lips as you continued to move, milking every last drop of pleasure from him until he was left trembling and spent beneath you.
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the sound of your heavy breathing. Then, Law let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, his eyes opening to meet yours. "You’re a fucking menace," he murmured, his voice hoarse but laced with affection.
You grinned, leaning down to brush a kiss against his lips. "And you love me for it," you whispered, your voice teasing as you slowly climbed off of him, your legs shaky but your confidence unwavering. "Now… let’s see if you’re ready for round two."
Law’s eyes widened, a mix of dread and anticipation flickering across his face as you reached for the belt around his wrists, your fingers deftly undoing the buckle. "You’re killing me, woman..." he groaned, though there was no real protest in his tone. If anything, it sounded more like a challenge—one you were more than ready to accept.
Law thought he was finally free when you undid the belt, but life was pretty unfair tonight, and he couldn't protest with the soreness in his arms. You quickly pulled a chair closer, let him sit down and pulled his hands behind his back, tying together once more. "I don't even know why I let you away with this..." He muttered, still breathless from round one, while you seemed to have all the energy in the world as you stood in front of him, with your hands on your hips in a satisfied stance. "Cuz you love me."
Law couldn't resist. A lazy smile formed on his lips as he let you straddle him again. His hands once more tied together behind the chair, long legs spread and with you sitting on his cock.
Leaning forward, you braced your hands on his chest, your movements becoming sharper, more erratic from the get go. Law let out a almost painful grunt. You didn't give him time to rest, yet his cock had his mind of his own, already hardening once more. Pearls of sweat covered your bodies, as you rode Law mercilessly a second time.
“Look at me,” you demanded, your voice sharp and commanding in between sinful moans.
He obeyed immediately, his stormy grey eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that stole your breath. There was no trace of his usual arrogance now, no smugness or teasing. Just raw, unfiltered desire—and something deeper, something that made your heart race even faster.
“Say it,” you whispered breathlessly, your voice trembling slightly despite your efforts to keep it steady. “Say you’re mine.”
For a moment, he hesitated, his jaw tightening as if the words were a battle he didn’t want to lose. But then his resolve crumbled, shattered by the sheer force of your will—and the relentless rhythm of your hips. “I’m yours,” he growled, the words rough and unsteady. “Damn it, I’m yours.”
The admission sent a thrill through you, a wave of triumph that made you smile in satisfaction. The air between you crackled with tension, thick and electric. His head tipped back, a groan escaping his lips, and you reveled in the sound.
“Look at me,” you demanded, your voice firm despite the way your own body trembled with pleasure. His eyes snapped to yours, hazy but focused, and you could see it—the moment his control shattered completely. Law let loose, and listened to every command you made.
His name spilled from your lips as you picked up the pace, your movements growing more urgent, more desperate. His hands strained against the belt, his entire body taut as he fought to keep himself anchored. You could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter, until you were both teetering on the edge.
His voice broke as he moaned your name, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. You leaned down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss as you finally let go, the world blurring around you as you spiraled together into bliss.
While your orgasm had been building up since round one and took you like a crashing wave, Law filled you up a second time, making a mess out of where you two were connected. You moved a bit longer, until your thighs shivered from the exhausting, before you finally stopped and let your body fall against his.
"Fuck you ruined me..." Law let his head fall back, two orgasms without a break really drained him, and the whole experience of you taking control added up to the whole excitement, ending in a blissful exhaustion.
You stay in that position a bit longer, until your legs had enough strength to stand up. Law thought it was over and he was finally free from the belt, but the look on your face was telling him otherwise.
"...You're going to be the death of me..."
After you rode him once more like a animal in heat, Law sat there completely drenched in sweat, rubbing his sore wrists, while you came back from the bathroom, throwing a damp towel towards him. He grabbed it weakly, trying to catch his breath. God, you really ruined him, he felt like he was going to pass out. Since when did you have so much stamina?
He felt like you emptied his balls for a whole month.
“I want payment, for my soul you fucked out of me.” Law looked at you, wet strands of raven hair clinging to his face, his breath still coming fast, as if he’d just run a marathon. Yet, despite his exhaustion, he managed a weak, amused grin.
You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you slowly gathered your scattered clothes from the floor. “Are you my slut now, or what?”
“You surely made me feel like that.” Law chuckled weakly and leaned his head back, exhausted eyes still following your movement.
“Uhu, sure. Don’t tell me you didn’t like it.” With a smug grin you offered him his underwear, while you took the liberty to slip on his hoodie.
“Shut up and order us something. It’s the least you can do for your whore.” He let out a quiet chuckle, ruffling your hair playfully.
“Fine, fine. You want pizza?” With a soft smile — being back to your usual self — you pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Law smiled back and hummed, giving you the okay to order.
He let it sink in—the whole scene playing back in his head. You’d always been strong-willed, but this… this was something else. He’d never seen you this fiery, this unapologetically fierce. It was new, unexpected. And utterly captivating.
To his surprise, he found himself enjoying it far more than he cared to admit. The raw energy, the pure rage that lit you up from within—it was electric. It was intoxicating.
And, hell, it was hot.
Law leaned back against the couch, his arms draped lazily along the cushions as he watched you scroll through your phone. His mind started to clear again, though the memory of what had gotten you so fired up lingered in the back of his thoughts.
“…You got a plan for Yuki?”
Without looking up, you handed him your phone so he could pick his part of the food order. You shrugged. “Not yet. I want to take my time with this—make it count. It’s gotta be a one-time thing, you know? Just… end it all.” A sigh escaped your lips as you sank further into the couch. “Don’t wanna be impulsive like her.”
Law raised an eyebrow as he scrolled through the menu. “You think she’s impulsive?”
“You know her better than I do,” you shot back, glancing at him. “Is she?”
He considered your question, his thumb hovering over the screen. “She’s emotionally driven, for sure,” he admitted. “But... weirdly calculated at the same time.”
You let out a chuckle. “Yeah, but nothing she does really feels final, does it?”
Law shook his head, setting the phone aside after completing the order. “Doubt she wants it to end.” He glanced at you, his eyes softening slightly as you shifted closer, snuggling into his side. “Feels like she thrives on it. Bet it’s all she thinks about.”
You smirked, resting your head against his shoulder. “What an honor. Living rent-free in her head like that.”
As Law still absently rubbed his wrists, as your thoughts began to wander. You knew you had to plan your next move carefully, but something in your gut told you the right opportunity would present itself. You just had to be ready—alert and sharp.
Hello! You might already know, but in case you don't, some of your links don't work. I saw you reposted killer, so could you do it with the other broken links?
The last link for smoker works, but the rest don't. I really like your writing and would love to read what you wrote for them. 💖
Thanks for letting me know, I changed my username and my links are still broken. I will repost my masterlist, and hopefully the links finally work, I had to edit every single one of them ; ; ahh pure suffering
