It’s a slow trudge to your apartment, fingers clenched tightly around the back of his soaking wet jonin vest in case he tries to make a run for it. Except the longer you walk the more apparent it becomes that the only thing keeping him moving is your gentle guiding.

Corralling him into the warmth of your already heated apartment, you triple check the door is locked before dropping to your knees, tugging Kakashi’s shoes off with only a little prompting.

His vest, weapons and shirt come off next as you sit him on one of your two chairs and the pathetic excuse of a dining table.

“Stay there.” You threaten, waving a finger in his face even as his gaze remains largely vacant. It only takes a second to grab a pile of freshly washed towels and some clothes and a face mask, dumping them on the table as you start with his sodden hair.

Kakashi doesn’t fight as you dry his hair then upper half but he doesn’t help either. It’s not until you hand him a new towel and a pair of pants that he kicks into gear slowly.

Leaving him to his own devices, you head into the kitchen thanking the gods that you’ve still got some leftover soup from yesterday.

It’s nothing special, but given Kakashi’s abhorrent inability to care for himself in this state it’s certainly better than anything he’d manage.

You take your time dishing it out and heating it up, kicking up a cacophony in the kitchen as you do.

“Order up!” You cheer, sliding the bowl in front of him, gathering up the wet clothes and towels and shuffling towards the laundry.

Mournfully, you imagine the warm shower you’d otherwise be having before drying yourself off and changing into a fluffy set of pyjamas, kitten slippers on your feet as you shuffle back out to check on him.

To your surprise, most of the soup's already been eaten, the new face mask remaining untouched as Kakashi slowly finishes the meal, almost as if he's savouring the taste.

“Whose clothes are these?” The question startles you almost as much as the sudden clarity in his gaze.

“Genma's, I think? I figured his clothes would be the closest in size.”

“You think?” His brow furrows. “Who else's clothes do you have?”

“Gai, um, Aoba. They stay the night sometimes.” You shrug, reaching for the now-empty bowl, rinsing it a little before dumping it in the sink; you'll deal with it later.

Back turned, you don't notice the tension lining Kakashi's frame, brows drawn and frowning at the thought of other men getting so close to you.

They stayed the night? What did you mean by that?

He's seen Genma flirt with you several times, but surely you hadn't actually fallen for it? and did you say Gai?

Unaware of his inner spiral/ongoing murder plots, you usher Kakashi up and down the hallway, not seeing the pink flush covering his cheeks when you usher him into your bedroom.

“You can sleep in here tonight; I'll take the couch.” You don't make it more than three steps before a hand locks around your wrist, and you're tugged backward into a warm chest.

The world tilts briefly as you find yourself suddenly on your mattress, Kakashi curled restrictively around you like a limpet.

“What, do you think you're doing?”

Kakashi hums, snuggling into your side like he's trying to burrow under your skin, “staying the night.”

His arms tighten the second you try to squirm away, and you sigh, resigning yourself to a long night.

Kakashi's gone in the morning, and you almost write the whole thing off as some strange dream. Except when you stumble into your apartment the next night, exhausted and ready to crawl into bed, Kakashi's already there.

You should've left him in the rain.

KISUKE URAHARA

“Alright, enough is enough.” Kisuke barely has any time to register the door to his office being thrown open, let alone your words, before a hand is yanking the blanket off his shoulders and dragging him outside into the blinding light.

Blinking furiously, he tries to adjust to the light, stumbling over himself as he blearily registers that it's you who's got him by the collar.

“How long are you going to keep moping around? Yoruichi had to come annoy me into visiting; you're lucky it wasn't Hiyori.”

“What are you—” Kisuke stammers as you manhandle him into sitting at the small table, trailing off when he sees the bowl of admittedly tantalising smelling soup.

“Well? Are you going to just sit there and stare like an idiot? Eat up.”

“You made this...for me?”

“No, I made it for the next-door neighbour. What do you think?!” There's an adorably angry furrow to your brow, and part of him wants to cry; it's a sight he never thought he'd see again. Not after he's so thoroughly failed to fix what Aizen's done to you.

“Oi, what's with the weird look?”

“Ah, I'm just surprised; I didn't know you could cook.” As expected, your eyes twitched furiously, and Kisuke felt his heart lighten in the presence of your anger.

“Kisuke—” Before you can start screaming at him properly, Kisuke launches himself at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and rubbing his cheek into your belly.

“So cute! Who knew you cared so much about little ole me?”

“Let go, you freak!”

“Haha, never!” He cheered, squeezing you even tighter when you try to squirm away.

“How someone like you was ever made a captain is beyond me!” You bring a fist down on his head, but just like your voice is lacking true heat, you're not truly aiming to hurt him.

Hundreds of years spent by his side in Squad Two under Yoruichi mean that Kisuke can see right through that mask you're projecting.

You've been taking care of him for longer than Kisuke cared to admit; it was probably time he started to repay the favour.

Kisuke really doesn't understand why you start screaming at him whenever you wake up, only to find him hovering over your bed, plate of breakfast already lovingly prepared by him.

HAL JORDAN

It's been months since you've seen Hal Jordan. You hadn't even heard he was back planetside, so to see him suddenly during a league meeting was unexpected.

A meeting you can barely concentrate on with him sitting there looking so... pathetic.

You suspect he's trying to hide it, but it would be impossible for you to ignore the bags under his eyes, barely hidden by his mask, the week-old stubble lining his jaw and the grease in his hair.

Hal looks rough, and you can hazard a guess as to why.

It's not the first time Hal's spent long stints of time in space, and if trends are being followed, he's probably lost his apartment.

Watching him linger behind uncertainly as the rest of the league filters out of the conference room has you sighing, already trying not to regret your decision. “Hal, come on, dinner's on me.”

You motion for him to follow with a tilt of your head, not waiting for him to make up his mind as you head for the zeta tube. It takes him a few moments, but eventually you hear hurried footsteps as Hal sidles up to you.

“Well, I'll never turn down free food.” He slings an arm around your shoulder casually.

“Change of plans.” You duck out from beneath him. “We're going back to mine so you can shower first; you stink.”

Hal's offended sputters are drowned out by the zeta tube thrumming to life, spitting you out a few streets over from your home. You continue walking, unhindered by Hal's insistence that he doesn't stink, even as he surreptitiously sniffs himself.

It's a silent walk from there, Hal shifting awkwardly behind you as you fiddle with your keys. “You can calm down; I've made us invisible to everyone else. Nobody will even notice the Green Lantern's in Gotham.”

“Bruce will notice.”

“What, you scared of the bat?” You usher him inside, trying not to smile at his indignance.

“No, I just don't want to deal with him being a dick about it.”

“Aw, poor baby. Don't worry, I'll fend off the Dark Knight for you.”

“My hero.” Hal deadpans, and you snort, pushing him into your bathroom.

“You can get started. There's spare towels already folded beneath the counter, and I'll bring you some clothes.”

“You have men's clothes lying around?” Hal tries not to pull a face at that, watching as yous crounge through some drawers.

“Picked up a few items over the years,” you throw back without looking away from your current task, “hope you don't mind boxers.”

Hal doesn't dignify that with an answer, blinking as you shove a pile of clothes into his arms, still a little overwhelmed that he's somehow ended up in your apartment.

“Hurry up. I'll see what I can put together for dinner.”

Leaving him alone with his thoughts, Hal mechanically sets about the task set before him, groaning when the hot water pours over aching muscles.

Part of him wants to stay under the warm spray for hours, but the ache in his stomach and the promise of food eventually lure him out and into the kitchen.

“Smells good.” He clears his throat, watching as you whip around with wide eyes, plate in hand.

“Oh, you're done. Have a seat, I'll wash your clothes.” You trade the plate for the pile of clothes he's awkwardly clinging to. Watching as you clamber down the hallway, Hal woodenly takes a seat at the kitchen counter.

Hal would like to say he was polite and waited until you got back, but the hunger wins out, and he devours the steak like a beast.

“Nobody's taking it from you.” Your amused voice has him flushing, his jaw slowing even as you smile. Taking his plate to slide another steak and some roast vegetables from a container of leftovers onto it before sliding it back in front of him.

“It's not much, but anything else would have taken too long.”

“It's great. Delicious.” He rushes to assure between swallowing bites.

“You really don't have to flatter me.”

“I'm not, it's the best thing I've tasted in months.” He earnestly states, something solemn in his gaze that has you softening.

“Hal.” You hesitate a little, turning your back to the stove so you won't see his expression. “I've got a spare room...you can stay for as long as you need.”

“I—That's not really necessary, I'll—”

“Hal.” You spin around, gaze narrowed. “Just accept the help.”

He withers under your gaze, because privately, Hal's aware he's not in a position to refuse.

For all his initial reticence, Hal sure does enjoy spending the next five months living under your roof, eating your cooking and generally demanding your attention 24/7.

You've warned her so many times that she's going to get burned before and it finally happens, a big drop of hot oil splashed in her skin, making her curse and whine in pain.

"Fucking hell," she mutters, wiping away the oil from her injured skin. She turns to you with a pout, leaning into the counter. "Girl, I've burned."

You open your mouth but she's faster. "Skip the 'I told ya' and just help me, I can't treat it right myself."

You huff a laugh and take her to the bed. The burn isn't that bad and it should be fine with just cold water and cream, you definitely didn't need to take her to your bed, laying her down and apply it yourself. Actually, she could have done it all by herself. But now you have an injured naked and gorgeous woman in your bed, her hair falling in your pillow in such beautiful shapes. Your thighs press together before you can help yourself, oh and she notices.

She's sprawled on your sheets with one arm tucked behind her head so her chest rises all pretty and full. You focus on applying the cool cream to her stomach, trying not to let your touch linger too much.

Out of nowhere she tilts her head and asks, "Are you a lesbian?"

You blink hard, fingers freezing right there on her warm skin. "Excuse me? Why would you even ask that?"

She gives you a lazy little smile, making her lips look extra soft.

"Come oooon. None of my other roommates could handle me walking around like this. They'd get all weird and awkward, covering their eyes or telling me to put clothes on every five seconds." Her voice drops a notch. "But you keep letting me do it without complaining once. That's pretty lesbian to me."

Heat floods your face so fast you swear you could cook eggs on your cheeks. She's right. God, she's so right. You've been the world's biggest lesbian since the first day she dropped her towel like it was nothing, and every naked breakfast or living-room workout has only made it worse.

You swallow, nod once, small and embarrassed. "I mean, yeah I am. So? what?"

Suguru's smile grows, she shifts on the bed, thighs parting just a little so you catch a glimpse of that pretty bush you can't stop thinking about. "Cool. So do you wanna get naked too?"

Your brain short-circuits. You sit there with the cream tube still in your hand, staring at her dumbfounded. "Huh?"

She laughs softly and reaches up to play with one of your curls. Her fingers brush your cheek and stay there. "I'm saying I want to fuck you, silly. If you want that too."

Your mouth goes dry but your body answers to her before your mouth does, already leaning into her.

You manage a shaky little laugh. "You're... really direct."

"Life's too short to burn myself twice," she whispers, eyes flicking to your lips. Her hand slides down your arm, thumb stroking slow circles that feel way too good. "C'mere already. Let me see you."

You take a deep breath as you peel your clothes from your body, showing her your naked body for the first time. She whistles low, looking you up and down as she takes your wrist and tugs you down on the bed. You're straddling her lap now, your pussy grazing her thighs and your tits hovering her face.

"You're beautiful. How could you hid this from me?" she says, looking down at your tits and pussy.

You bite your lip, already feeling that familiar flush creep up your neck. Suguru notices right away, of course she does. She tilts her head with this playful smirk, eyes sparkling like she's enjoying every second of your embarrassment.

"So tell me," she whispers, "what do you want to do to me? Or what do you want me to do to you? I do both but you gotta be specific."

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out except a tiny squeak. She chuckles softly, squeezing your hips. "Aw, look at you getting all shy. It's cute, but I need words."

"I... I don't know," you mumble, shifting on her lap. The way your bare pussy brushes against her strong thigh makes it hard to think straight.

Suguru leans up a little, lips brushing your collarbone. "How about you ride my thigh? Have you ever done that?"

You nod so fast it makes your head spin, heat rushing straight between your legs. "Yeah. Please."

She grins, settling back against the pillows and guiding you into position. One of her hands stays on your hip while the other slides up to cup your breast, thumb teasing your nipple. You start moving, sliding your slick folds along her firm thigh. It feels so good already, warm skin against your most sensitive spot.

"So obedient," she whispers, voice dropping into something filthy and intimate right by your ear. "Bet you've been thinking about this every time I walked around naked, huh? Rubbing your thighs together in your room after I left the kitchen."

You moan her name, "S-Suguru," all breathy and desperate as you pick up the pace. Your hips roll faster, chasing that friction. She feels incredible under you, muscle flexing every time you press down.

"What? Do you think I didn't notice how you eye-fucked me every time you could?" she says, licking and biting your earlobe while her hands guide you to grind faster.

"Suguru, please!" you whine again, her name being the only thing in your head.

"Mmm, say it louder," she teases, nipping at your earlobe. "Want the neighbors to know who's making you feel this good."

Whines spill from your lips as you ride her harder, tits bouncing with every grind. She keeps whispering all those dirty little things that make your head fuzzy. "Good girl. So eager. Bet you wanna cum all over my thigh like the horny girl you are."

"Mhm," you nod as needy as ever. "I'm close hah I'm sooo close!"

Her hands help you to grind faster while her thigh tenses and relaxes, adding more to the feeling.

It doesn't take long before everything tightens up inside you. You moan her name again, louder this time, body shaking as the orgasm crashes through you. Your hips stutter and press down hard, riding it out while she holds you close, murmuring praises against your neck.

"That's my girl," she tells you, rubbing your back and kissing your temple.

You slump against her chest afterward, breathing heavy, face buried in her shoulder. Suguru tilts your chin up so you're looking right into her eyes.

"Do you want to interlock our bushes now?"

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Amusement flashed over his expression for a second at the official title and you smiled. He seemed to not know how to deal with you when you said it like that. Another small fact you could file away next to the rest of your more pointless intelligence.

“Maybe they’d believe you,” he said. “They all seem to be quite convinced I’m losing my mind from exhaustion. They staged an intervention yesterday evening.”

You laughed at that and Marco chuckled softly in response. The wind rustled through your clothes and his hair.

“I imagine it was because you nearly drowned half of the twelfth division?”

He looked mildly offended at your implication but his smile remained in place. “I know where I’m flying yoi. I would have only caught you.”

“No,” you corrected. “You would have missed me. You did miss me.”

“It was a slow dive. I was checking if you’d learned your lesson from the first time.”

You rolled your eyes. He hadn’t been moving slowly at all; you’d just tempted him into taking an opportunity that was right in front of him. The fact that half the maps went flying spoke fully to that.

“If you’d like to try it again, you’re welcome to,” you teased. “Maybe I can practise with the local gulls on shore. I’ll take some food and see if I can dodge them.”

He huffed. “I’m much faster than a gull.”

“You clearly haven’t met enough gulls then. Or enough motivated ones.”

“They won’t be around anyway. Most smaller birds disappear when I’m in the area.”

You paused. A beam of sunlight landed on your boots, warmth creeping across the deck as the morning started properly. The light caught in his hair, pulling out the same gold that edged his feathers. It was a strange detail but one you filed away.

“Your influence stretches that far from the ship?”

“I’ll be supervising the visit. Part of the intervention was they insisted I take breaks, yoi, and so I’m going to join Jozu’s division for time away from the ship.”

“Oh, is that why I’m invited along?”

He shrugged but the movement was a touch too casual to be believable. “Can’t let you run around the ship without me here. I’ll come back and find a net hanging over my office chair.”

“Beartrap would work better,” you hummed. “I’ve already got you looking up. But if I’m rotating through the divisions, when do I get to follow you around for a day? You’ll remember I’m quite interested in learning about… medical things.”

“You’re observant enough for it but you spend far too much of your time watching me. It’ll make a workplace hazard.”

You inclined your head. “Once I’ve caught you, I won’t have a reason to be distracted.”

“If, you catch me,” he corrected you. “Then you’ll have no reason to pretend you’re interested in my work anyway.”

You chuckled and took a sip from your coffee. “I don’t know. I’m sure there are other motivations. What time do we leave today?”

Your answer ended up delayed by a ship-wide earthquake that sent you stumbling into the barrel, coffee sloshing over your hand. You hissed in complaint. Ace… Seriously, his vendetta against Whitebeard was starting to annoy even you.

Blue flames caught on Marco’s hand. He reached out to your burn without even looking and the agitated skin soothed immediately. Like plunging your arm into warm water, the flames licked over the injury until it barely remained.

“I’ll go check on that, yoi,” Marco said. “I’ll have somebody find you later.”

You smiled and dried your hand on a nearby cloth. “I look forward to it.”

By late morning, you were walking through a timber market with the third division, surrounded by stripped logs, towering stacks of planks and the sharp resinous smell of newly cut wood. Saws rasped from open workshops while cart wheels knocked over the uneven boards laid across the mud. You liked the division well enough, but their work was infernally dull, and before long you had abandoned the finer points of hull repair in favour of turning a small carved horse over between your fingers.

The market should have been thick with gulls. Instead, their cries came faintly from farther along the shore, leaving the sky above the stalls strangely empty beneath the shadow circling overhead.

The light dimmed over the carving in your hands. You tilted your head back and found Marco banking above the island, broad wings catching the sun until blue and gold burned along their edges.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” a nearby lumber merchant asked.

Jozu sighed. “Yes, he’s fine.”

“He knows how to keep a low profile,” you commented.

“Indeed,” the other commander grumbled.

“It’s a truly beautiful bird,” the woman you had been speaking to said and you nodded.

“I know,” you replied. “And unfortunately, he knows too.”

You hadn’t been aware that when Marco said ‘supervision’, he meant he would be flying around as a giant bird. Then again, it might not have been normal even for the other Whitebeard Pirates who kept glancing up nervously.

“I think he came with just to fly,” Jozu said as he paid for the lumber. “And supervision was some kind of excuse.”

“Thought he needed a break,” you mentioned.

“That too,” Jozu agreed although he gave you a slightly suspicious look.

That probably wasn’t knowledge you should have but oh well. “Not sure what makes this any different from his normal flight. He could soar just as easily around the ship.”

You wondered how good Marco’s hearing was. He was considerably high up and the noise from the market was loud. Sawing wood, yelling, and the rattling of cart wheels could easily steal your voice. But you were suspicious about that because you couldn’t imagine him as the type to allow discussions to go on without hearing them.

You kept your gaze fixed on his silhouette. There was one easy way to find out.

Jozu chuckled and picked up a rather large crate, shoving it onto the back of a nearby cart with a puff of straw. “I think he’s making a show of ‘relaxing’ so everybody leaves him be.”

“Or he’s showing off,” you suggested. “Not that it’s too impressive, anyway.”

“You don’t think so?”

You shrugged, eyes never dropping from Marco’s silhouette. “It’s just that I don’t see flying as interesting, anyway. It’s overrated. You could use it to scout, sure, but it’s as easy to see things from the top of a tree.”

Jozu dusted his hands and reached for another crate. “Maybe. I hate heights, so I’ve never seen the appeal.”

Marco’s circles were getting closer. The others in the market were noticing too. They kept glancing up toward the sky as the shadow grew bigger and bigger. You looked up and you met his gaze.

You raised an eyebrow.

His wings folded tight against his body.

Shouts broke across the market. Jozu’s hand snapped to his weapon as he searched for a threat that was already falling toward you. You bent to slip beneath the dive, but Marco opened his wings at the last possible second and twisted through the air, turning with your movement instead of passing over it.

His talons closed around your upper arms and sides. Heat and pressure locked against you, too carefully controlled to pierce and far too strong to fight. His next wingbeat struck the market like a sudden storm. Straw lifted, wood shavings spun across the ground and your boots left the boards before you could drag in a full breath.

The world dropped away.

The cry that tore from you never became more than a choked gasp. Your legs swung beneath him while the lumberyard shrank into stacks of pale timber and moving dots. Your stomach seemed to remain somewhere below. You caught at one scaled leg with both hands, fingers locking so tightly your knuckles blanched as the wind clawed at your clothes.

Fear cinched around your throat. The trees flattened into a single mass of green and the rivers became bright threads cutting through it. Even the Moby Dick looked small from here, resting in the deeper water like a child’s model.

“Calm down, yoi. I’m not going to drop you.”

His voice pulled your attention upward. Blue fire had retreated from his face and torso, leaving his wings and legs transformed while he watched you with maddening calm. His grip had not shifted once. You forced your fingers to loosen around his leg one at a time, and the panic in your chest slowly stopped climbing.

His wings kept a steady beat, holding you securely beneath him.

This angle really suited him.

“I knew you could hear me,” you said. “Didn’t expect to get stolen though.”

“Thought I’d show you some of the flight you care so little about,” he chuckled. “It’s far more effective for scouting than a tree.”

You dragged your attention away from him, looking over the island around you. “Maybe. But most of it’s just smudges.”

Marco looked past you toward the ground. “Like this, yes. But fully transformed, I could see every individual person down there. Even from this height.”

You adjusted yourself and smiled. “Good eyesight too? I should really get your brothers to force you to take a break more. I get so much information without even trying.”

“The eyesight was obvious, yoi,” he said though his voice was laced with amusement. He lifted his legs a little. “Do you want to keep hanging there or would you like a more comfortable seat?”

You couldn’t see how you would possibly adjust your position. His arms were very much covered in feathers and you weren’t about to clamber up him.

“Why? Getting tired of holding me already?”

He grinned and suddenly let go of one of your arms. You grabbed the leg still holding you, nails digging into him as you swayed in the air. Your stomach plummeted and he tossed his head back in a laugh when you glared up at him.

“Not at all, yoi. I could keep you here forever.”

You muttered a curse at him and his grin only grew wider. But despite that, you found yourself smiling back instead of being too annoyed. The ground felt a lot further than it should have been but his talons were unwavering around your arm. A hot pull had started deep in your shoulder, sharpening whenever the wind swung your weight beneath him.

“If you drop me, you’re explaining it to your captain,” you warned him. “And you can’t blame it on a random bird. Other people witnessed my kidnapping.”

“You’re banking on witnesses? Why not count on my good nature?”

“You’re dangling me in the air,” you huffed. “Your good nature isn’t going to be enough. Consequences are my only hope.”

Marco hummed. “This means I have two points now, doesn’t it? After the first time I caught you, I thought you might learn. For a great hunter, you seem to struggle against prey that can catch you back.”

He was far too arrogant about this. You met his smug gaze and knew you had to find a way to get rid of that smirk. But it would have to wait until you figured out how to get out of the sky with your dignity intact.

The wind blew around you, strong enough to tug at your clothes. Your shoulder was really starting to ache; the discomfort interfering with how refreshing the breeze truly was.

“Patience,” you said, finally. “I only need to catch you properly once.”

“Oh? And then what?” he asked. “I need some ideas for what to do with you now after all.”

His free foot curled around your torso, talons spread carefully across your waist so the points never touched skin. You jumped, not expecting the warmth of his talons where they wrapped around your waist to support you better. The weight adjustment made you breathe a sigh of relief, arm far less strained even if you were now at a bit of an angle.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much,” you said. “You’re not meant to have a heart for your prey, you know. Most birds just rip things limb from limb.”

He grinned. “I considered it but it would be far too much work to explain. I caught Thatch like this once when we were younger. The higher we climbed, the stronger the urge got to drop him. Prey isn’t meant to come back down alive, yoi. That’s why most people ride on my back.”

You didn’t know how you felt about that when you were dangling in his claws. But he hadn’t dropped you yet so… you focused on that rather than the alternative.

“Didn’t realise you were a carrier pigeon.”

“I’ve had this fruit for thirty years. You think I’ve never had to give one of my brothers a lift?”

You tapped your fingers against his leg. “Thirty years? Wow…”

His eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

The talon around your torso jostled you playfully. Your stomach flipped but you kept your smile firmly on your face. Despite his complaint, his smile hadn’t faltered in the slightest and you took that as a sign you could continue.

“I was just thinking,” you continued. “The next time you cover those grey hairs, you might want something a little less yellow. At your age, distinguished would suit you better than tropical fruit.”

He clicked his tongue in faux annoyance but laughed a second later as though he couldn’t maintain the act. “You’re very confident for a woman that’s entirely at my mercy right now.”

“You remember where we are?” you asked. “That’s really good. I know your brothers are worried about your mind fading but this is a good sign.”

Marco’s smile shifted and the beat of his wings adjusted. “You know, you might be right. I think I’ve forgotten where I picked you up from. Let me try and remember.”

Flames curled over his body; a beautiful bird appearing in his place. He extended his wings and dropped, talons tightening around your chest as he suddenly dived.

The fear from the climb had burned away, leaving only the thrill of speed and the certainty of his hold. With his talons secure around you, the height no longer felt so threatening. You could almost admit he had proved his point. Flying was far better than sitting at the top of a tree, especially when he was the one doing all the work.

The lumberyard flashed beneath you and vanished behind the trees. Marco kept going until the forest gave way to pale sand and dark rock, then swept lower as the ocean rushed up beneath you. His pace eased above the shallows, each beat of his wings broader and slower as sunlight fractured across the water.

Then he let go.

You had only a second to twist your head up to him in betrayal before you splashed into the water below. It wasn’t deep at all but the tide immediately tangled you, flipping you over once before you managed to get to your feet and coughed up a mouthful of sea water. The waves lapped around your hips as he landed on a nearby rock above the surf; a pleased trill rumbling through him.

The sound was entertaining enough that you couldn’t even be that annoyed, laughing in turn.

He transformed back, smile pleased but slightly guilty. “You alright, yoi?”

A wave hit your back and you picked up your shirt slightly, twisting the fabric even though the action was pointless. “You dropped me in the ocean?”

“I thought you looked a bit hot.”

You waded through the water toward where he was standing; the sand difficult to walk through and salt lingering on your tongue.

Marco held out his hand and you took it, his palm warm against your own. Shivers moved through his forearm the moment you made contact. His body still didn’t appreciate the sea water clinging to your skin.

Instead of climbing out though, you braced one foot against the rock he was standing on and leaned back with a small tug.

“It is hot and the water’s lovely,” you said. “Why don’t you join me?”

Marco’s gaze flicked to the ocean for a second before he smiled, loose and comfortable. “Tempting, but swimming’s never agreed with me.”

“I’m sure I could change your mind,” you offered and you walked your free hand over his wrist, watching the reflexive shudder in his arm. “I find it does wonders to cool me down when I’m getting heated.”

“That doesn’t look much like swimwear, yoi.”

“Wonder whose fault that is. Though it’s not unfixable. I’ll just take the outer layers off and let them dry in the sun.”

Interest caught in his gaze before he could hide it, his attention dipping toward your body before he forcefully redirected it to your face. “I’m surprised you don’t have swimwear on you. Aren’t you meant to be prepared for any situation?”

“Well, if my quarry gets stranded at sea, I don’t think I’d be able to swim him to shore,” you said. “I’m a strong swimmer but he’s a bit heavy.”

“I’ve actually been told I’m lighter as a bird,” he said. “Though maybe not with waterlogged feathers.”

“We should see.”

You tugged again. Marco answered with enough strength to lift you toward him, and you let the momentum carry you onto the rock. Your foot found slick stone instead of solid footing. It slid beneath you and your shoulder struck his chest hard enough to drive him back half a step.

His hand left yours and caught your waist. Your palms landed against his shoulders as he pulled you firmly against him, keeping both of you clear of the water.

Wet cloth pressed cold between your bodies. His skin remained warm beneath it, almost hot, and droplets gathered along his collarbone before slipping beneath the open edge of his vest. His arm shuddered where it held you, but his grip only tightened.

You looked up to meet his eyes. “Something wrong?” you asked. “Didn’t think you were the type to be intimidated by a woman being a little wet.”

He chuckled softly. “I’m perfectly fine, yoi. I already told you a few drops won’t do much to me.”

You stepped closer, moving until you were fully pressed against him; soaked clothes resting against his skin as you smiled. “What about now?”

His eyes darkened and his gaze dipped down before his attention suddenly snapped over your shoulder. Marco shook his head as though coming out of a daze and the hand around your waist stabilised you before he moved away.

“I’ll bring you something dry.”

He transformed in a rush of blue flame, shooting up into the sky with a beat of his wings. You turned your head to watch him go, fire catching against the clouds. Then you noticed the small group approaching along the beach and the interaction suddenly made perfect sense.

You slipped from the rock and waded your way back to the shore. Without the distraction of Marco, the annoyance of sand in your hair and clothes was quickly getting to you.

“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to request permission to go and change,” you said to Jozu.

He looked at you and then back toward the sky where Marco had disappeared. “Go change. Did he drop you in the water?”

Ah, that probably did look a little strange to an outsider’s perspective.

You pressed your lips together and tried to seem unbothered. “I was moving around a lot and I sort of squirmed out of his hold. We were barely above the water anyway so… he’s going off to get me something dry.”

Jozu didn’t seem convinced in the slightest. “I’ve watched Marco carry men double your weight with ease,” he said. “There’s no way you managed to just drop free.”

You shrugged. “I’m quite squirrely.”

He hummed and nodded. “Go ahead,” he said. “But I need to speak to Pops about this.”

You winced in sympathy. Marco absolutely had another intervention coming his way. You just wondered if they’d realised who the common denominator in his apparently ‘odd’ behaviour was.

Taglist: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow ; @mollys--stuff ; @laserbeyza ; @aceidentallyinlove ; @ilovedreming ; @sylmischi ; @appalost ; @moon-shampoo ; @charukii 

Kid glared at you. A faint flush sat high across his face and his breathing came heavier than it should have, though he’d only crossed the doorway. Worse was the uncertainty beneath his glare. It looked so unnatural on him that you kept watching as you gathered the syringes from the floor.

“Need to talk to you.”

“About?”

He opened his mouth and almost immediately, a rough cough tore its way from his chest. His hand flew to his mouth. It was an awful, wet and choking sound. You winced in sympathy.

“You’re sick,” you said, walking over slowly. “Any other symptoms aside from the cough?”

“Fuck off,” he muttered.

“You came to me,” you reminded him. He hadn’t lowered his hand yet. “I’d like to know what you have before I treat it. And also, so if you drop dead in the middle of the deck, I can explain myself before Killer takes my head off.”

You’d meant it as a light-hearted tease. Kid was healthy enough that most illnesses he might contract didn’t bother you much. But the second he lowered his hand, the humour disappeared from your heart.

Lying amongst the specks of blood were two petals. One had folded against the wet centre of his palm, its edges trembling faintly with every rough breath.

Your heart and your stomach twisted at the same time. The medical knowledge blended together with a truly disgusting disappointment. One you had no right to feel.

And yet it almost broke your professionalism.

Almost.

“Ah,” you said.

“Don’t fucking ‘ah’ me!” he snapped.

You reached out slowly and picked up one of the petals. Its damp, bloodied state wrinkled your nose, but the petal itself was strangely delicate. You’d never thought the rumours of this disease were even true. And yet…

“Do you know anything about this ailment?” you asked.

“Ailment?” he snorted. “I just thought one of these idiots has been feeding me flowers.”

He scoffed but he knew that wasn’t the case. You could see it in the defensive set to his shoulders and the grimace of his lips.

“They’re growing in your lungs,” you said. “From what I know, the cause is fairly simple. Unreciprocated love.”

You hated saying it. Disliked it even more when Kid’s eyes narrowed at you in response and his expression told you that he’d already known that. You rolled the petal between your fingers and then put it on your desk carefully. You’d need it to do some further research in the morning.

“The good news is, you’re not going to die within the week,” you told him. “It’s in its early stages for now.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he muttered. “Started this morning.”

“So, what’s your plan to fix it?”

The syringes on your desk moved. Their needles turned toward Kid and you immediately reached for a box and placed it firmly over them before he could impale himself in irritation.

“You’re the doctor!” he snapped. “Why don’t you tell me how to fix it? How do I make this shit stop?!”

“The cause points fairly clearly toward the cure. If you fix the unreciprocated love, you fix the flowers. But I can’t do that for you.”

The boxes on your shelving were beginning to rattle. The metal tools inside shivered against one another with an awful, screeching sound. You looked toward them with a small sigh.

“Seems like a pretty stupid time to tell somebody you’re interested in them,” he said through gritted teeth. “What if they don’t care? You’re not going to change that by coughing up fucking flowers into their laps!”

“I need you to repel instead of attract,” you said as the needles of the syringes hit the sides of the box with soft plinking sounds.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Watch me,” you responded. “Repel. Or you’re going to end up buried under a pile of my supplies and I’m going to have to dig you out.”

“Are you saying I can’t control my fruit?”

“Prove to me you can.”

He scoffed and the tools stopped moving. You eased some of the pressure on the box but kept your hand firmly over it. Kid had very good control over his magnetism but it never hurt to ensure he didn’t impale himself.

He coughed again, much softer as though he kept it locked in his chest through irritation alone.

“Thank you,” you said. “Now, my first actual question is do you know if it’s actually unreciprocated or are you assuming? Like have you said something, not yelled it, before?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“I’m trying to keep you alive,” you reminded him, even as it stung at the edges of your heart.

“Yeah, well don’t bother. I don’t need to sit here and worry myself over some stupid flower petals when we have actual problems.”

He turned on his heel and marched from the room. You watched the door slam shut and looked down at the petal on your desk. The bright red turned your stomach even as it began to dry. Kid wasn’t going to share the source of the disease. It was time to look for a cure.

But you had no idea where to start.

You told the rest of the crew he was ill and took to collecting the petals – despite his very, very loud complaints about both. Most of the petals were red and though a few varied in colour, the majority shared the same shade. You weren’t sure if it meant anything. But you were skipping over no details in your research.

Most of what you found was useless. There were artistically rendered plants curling through painted lungs, long passages about the purity and suffering of love, and far too many accounts that ended with a name and a date of death. Those were the only records that offered anything practical.

You bought every book that mentioned the disease. At each port, you cornered doctors in cramped offices and overcrowded clinics, asking for notes, case histories, anything they had kept. More than once, Kid’s coughing carried through an open window or down the street behind you, wet and unmistakable, and you kept talking as though you couldn’t hear it.

It wasn’t great. Desperation grew in you much like the flowers in his lungs. There had to be a solution but what it was…

When you worked out a progression chart, you cornered him in his workshop.

The room smelled of iron when you stepped in. There were too many petals here for your comfort, gathering on the desk and in the corners. They looked wrong among the wrought metal and iron dust, too soft and bright for anything in Kid’s workshop. He immediately gave you a look, mouth opening as though to tell you to get out. You beat him to speaking.

“The moment it progresses from petals to flowers, you need to tell me.”

“I’m not giving you a fucking inventory!”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “You came to me first. That means that I’m now responsible for monitoring how bad this gets. So, if it gets worse, you tell me.”

“I didn’t go there to get myself a fucking nanny,” he retorted. “Why don’t you go back and wait for an actual injury to arrive? Wire’ll probably slice his stomach open again.”

You put your hands firmly on the table in front of his metal arm. A thin layer of dust and iron shavings pressed into your palms. “And if he did, I think I’d have a better chance of keeping him alive than you right now.”

“I’m fine.”

“I firmly disagree.”

The door opened before he could retort. Both your heads snapped toward Killer, who paused on the threshold without looking particularly interested in whatever he had interrupted. Fine. If Kid wasn’t going to be forthcoming, you knew who actually respected your knowledge.

“Killer, if you see him cough up even one flower, tell me immediately.”

“Okay.”

“Hey!” Kid snapped. “Don’t set spies on me on my ship! If there’s a problem, I can tell you myself!”

“Will you?”

Whatever answer he wanted to give you was lost in a sudden flurry of coughs. You watched another red petal drift to the ground. It was a raw and uncomfortable sound; like air pushing through leaves. You winced in sympathy.

“Is it contagious?” Killer asked.

“Not from what I know,” you said. “It’s rare. Very much so but there’s always a chance of it developing if somebody chooses not to share. But it is fatal. If it gets worse, I think I’ll have to contact Trafalgar.”

Kid’s glare pierced through you. “What the fuck does he have to do with this shit?”

“I think he might be able to remove the infection,” you said. “He could take your lungs out with minimum damage and find out if there’s a physical source. It’s only speculation on my side but seeing as you’re insisting on the hard cure instead of the easy one…”

“There’s an easy cure?” Killer asked.

“Yes. Easier for most people at least. If he would just open his mouth and talk for a second, he’d be fine.”

“Would it still count if it was yelling? Because that’s more likely.”

“Don’t you start now!” Kid barked.

You gave him a look and made your way out the workshop, mind running far too fast. The Victoria felt colder than ever, even when you stood on the deck in the sun. Trafalgar wasn’t a bad option. If there was a physical plant, he would be the best choice to remove it.

If you could convince him to help.

It took less than two days for Killer to rap his knuckles against the metal door of your office. “He’s struggling to breathe.”

Kid had been very good at avoiding you. You’d hoped to observe him going about his usual day but that felt impossible anymore. Even finding him when you were looking turned out to be difficult until you cornered him near the helm.

You snuck up on him, feeling rather like a cat approaching a particularly skittish bird, and caught his arm, hands firm against his bicep.

“Hey!”

“No,” you said. “I’m examining you.”

He tugged on his arm. He could have taken it back. You knew he was strong enough to, even while he coughed up petals, but he followed you to the infirmary with little more than a barked complaint.

“Stay here,” you said after he was sitting on one of your beds.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re overreacting.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for. How’s your breathing been?”

“Still breathing.”

“Take a deep breath.”

“You’ve heard me breathe.”

You gave him a look and he dragged in an exaggerated breath, only for it to break apart into a violent cough. Petals splattered over his hand and the metal floor. At least six or seven, flecked with blood. You leaned down to pick them up, purposefully not looking at him until they were on your desk. You reached for your stethoscope.

“Has it been interrupting your sleep?”

“Listen to my damn lungs and leave the rest alone.” His voice rasped painfully before he cleared his throat.

He said it far too quickly for that to not have been an answer in its own right.

You stepped closer and put a hand on his right shoulder. He stiffened before he allowed you to push him straight, nudging his arm down so you could examine his chest easier.

“Do you know what I don’t understand?” you asked as you held the stethoscope to his side. “You’ve never had any problems telling people what you think of them before. What’s so different about this?”

That had long been the reason you never acted on your own feelings. You couldn’t imagine a world where Kid, of all people, didn’t immediately follow what he wanted. If he shared your interest, you felt confident that you would have known by now.

He didn’t answer you.

One lung was definitely stronger than the other. His right one made a terrible crackling sound every time he inhaled though the left wasn’t without flaw either.

You pressed your lips together. “Shirt off.”

For a second, he didn’t move. He was staring at you with an unreadable, almost accusatory expression. As though a forced medical exam for the disease was the same as making him jump into the ocean.

You tapped your foot impatiently. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Kid pulled the shirt off and dropped it to his side. You stepped around him and listened again, hoping to any god that would listen that you had just heard the fabric moving. His breaths rasped and the fear you’d been keeping at bay moved forward.

This wasn’t a mysterious disease that existed only as a name on a page. You could hear the obstruction in his lungs clearly.

You hung the stethoscope around your neck and stepped away. “If you die because of this, I’m going to be so fucking pissed. Have you coughed up any blood without the petals?”

“No,” he muttered. “Just these stupid things. Why are they red anyway? In all those books of yours, they’re pink or white.”

“No idea,” you admitted, not missing the confession that he’d been looking through your books when you weren’t around. “Maybe they’re taking the colour from your hair. They’ll turn you grey within the next month.”

“Funny.”

You hummed and picked up a tongue depressor. “Open.”

He clicked his tongue but followed your instructions. His throat was red and inflamed. You could see a petal stuck at the back and you gently pulled it out with a pair of tweezers. Kid’s nose wrinkled at the sensation.

You examined it under the light and sighed. “I wish you would help me here. I do like you alive and breathing.”

He immediately leaned away from you, arm crossing over his chest. “Really no other way to make this shit stop?”

“Not from what I’ve learned,” you said. “Maybe you can buy yourself some more time if you avoid the source but that’s mostly a rumour. No evidence to prove it helps. And I imagine it isn’t anybody on board the Victoria anyway so…”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

The words hurt to admit but you said them anyway. “I just can’t imagine you not telling somebody when you see them every day. That’s all.”

“Can’t say anything at all when there’s flowers everywhere.”

“That’s actually a pretty good reason to do it,” you pointed out.

“Why? To blackmail the ‘right’ response?”

Another coughing fit began and you quickly pulled the stethoscope free to listen at his side. His right lung was really struggling to draw breath. The laboured pulls made your heart twist horrifically.

The disease was progressing quicker than it should have. If there was another way to get this removed, it would have to be your solution.

“You’re being stubborn,” you muttered as he finished. “You know that right?”

“Shut up.”

“At best, you have a few weeks before you’re bringing up full flowers. And at that point, we’re almost out of options.” You stepped away to get a glass of water from the sink. “I think it’s time to decide what you’re going to do.”

Kid rubbed his chest and roughly thumped against it with a fist. A couple more petals escaped as he did so.

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Do I need to schedule a reroute?”

“No. Something else. Stop worrying about this, would you? I don’t want you fussing over flowers if somebody’s actually dying.”

“I hate to tell you this but you’re the one that’s actually dying.”

“Whatever. You done?”

You held out the glass of water to him. “With the examination, yes but –”

“Good.”

Kid stood, grabbed his shirt from the table and marched out the medical bay. You watched him go, water still held out in front of you until you stopped hearing his boots down the hall.

The petals worsened while you waited for him to ‘figure it out’ and you stopped gathering them, unable to store nearly enough. They weren’t helping your research anyway. You dumped most over the side of the ship and let them float away, swallowed by the surf.

Eventually, waiting was going to take too long.  

Kid could hate you when he could breathe again. For now, you spoke to the others about possible rerouting to search for the Heart Pirates. It would be far from easy to track them down and your time was already short. If they even help… well, you’d have to figure that part out first then.

You were busy making notes of the progression of his symptoms, scratching down proof of his deterioration with a steady hand, when the door flew open once more.

The ink skipped over the page, bleeding through it steadily. You looked up.

Kid closed the door behind him this time before he approached, each breath lifting his chest in a shallow pull beneath his coat. His face was pale beneath his usual anger and fresh blood lingered at the corner of his mouth.

He crossed the room and threw something onto your desk. It landed across your notes with a wet, heavy sound. A complete flower lay across the paper, its crimson petals spread wide and slick with blood almost the same shade.

Kid didn’t meet your eyes. He glared firmly at the air beside you as you nudged the flower with the back of your pen.

“Alight,” you said. “We can’t mess around with this anymore. Either we speak to Trafalgar to see if he can remove it or you need to talk to whoever this is for.”

Kid’s jaw tightened. His arm twitched over his chest. You waited, unwilling to yield even as panic curled through your own heart like a traitorous poison. Part of you dreaded learning who the flower was for, but that selfishness had no place here. Not when the answer might be the only thing capable of stopping it.

“This is fucking stupid,” he muttered.

“Unfortunately, sickness is rarely fair,” you said. “I would be grateful that it’s something with a solution rather than something incurable. It could always be worse.”

He finally met your eyes. “And if I say it and they still don’t want me? Then what?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t know what’ll happen because this is a very rare disease to begin with. Any details I can find are anecdotal at best. But isn’t it at least worth a try if it can fix all this?”

He shrugged.

“You’re going to die choking on flowers if you don’t. Do you really want me to have to put ‘died from being stubborn’ on your grave?”

“Fuck off. If you put that shit on my grave, I’m coming back to toss you in the ocean.”

“Honestly, I’d rather not have to think about what I want to write on a headstone at all,” you said. “So, can I contact Trafalgar? I’ll talk to him and see if he’s going to be able to remove at least some of the blockage. It might not be a full cure but it can fix some of it until you grow a pair.”

Kid’s eye twitched faintly and his lip curled up. “Are you calling me a coward?”

Good. He was getting annoyed. Maybe if you pressed on his pride enough, he’d just snap and do it so you could eliminate it as an option. Either it worked or… or you had to keep searching but at least it was a chance.

You’d take any chance at this point.

“Yes,” you said simply.

Red was creeping up his neck as he turned to you fully. “You don’t know anything about this shit.”

“No,” you said. “I don’t and as much as I could guess, that won’t get me any further. I know you probably haven’t found some random woman on the coast and decided she’s worth dying for so at least it narrows it down to people I know. I suppose I should just ask Killer, right? You two have always had the same taste.”

“Don’t get him involved in this crap.”

“What other option do I have?” you asked. “I have no solution. You certainly haven’t brought me some miracle cure over the past few days and you can’t punch it out of your own lungs. I know of exactly one magical surgeon who has the potential to help and that’s it.”

Kid scoffed. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. You haven’t shut up about him for days.”

“What?”

“Constantly fucking yapping about Trafalgar,” he said. “Keep saying his name like that and I’ll dump you on his deck myself.”

You picked up the flower from your desk and created a small circle with your thumb and index finger. “Do you see this?” you asked. “This is the size of your trachea, okay?” You placed the flower against it and tried to tug it through. It barely fit. “Do you see why I’m so worried about the next one?”

“Obviously I know what the problem is!” he snapped. “I’m the one who brought the thing up!”

“Then why are you so annoyed that I’m asking somebody else to help keep you alive?” you asked.

“Never said I cared about it. Just mentioned that it’s all you’ve been going on about.”

“Because I don’t have anything else! Every book I read and every person I speak to says that this is fatal! And I think I have a better chance of nagging you into a surgery than I do at forcing you to speak about your feelings!”

He glowered but there was something closer to uncertainty behind his expression. “There has to be another cure.”

You tossed the flower down and stood finally, bracing your hands against the desk. “That’s why I’m thinking about the one fruit that I know might be able to help.”

“It doesn’t make sense anyway,” he said. “I’m not the only person on this ship who’s kept his mouth shut about something this stupid. How come nobody else has had to deal with a fucking plant in their chest?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know why it chose you when it could have just as easily taken to my lungs. But what I do know is that if it had, I would be damned before I sat around here making the rest of you watch me slowly suffocate!”

“Guess it would have been easier if that happened, right? We’d just change directions and fix it within the week.”

“What are you on about?”

Kid gestured and your desk lamp began to topple. You caught it and shoved it under your table before it spilled paraffin over everything.

“If you caught this fucking disease,” he said. “And you were covering my ship in rose petals or whatever the hell they are –”

“This is a tulip,” you told him.

“I don’t care! I’m just saying it would be simpler because then we could load you up and send you to profess your love at the bottom of the sea without having to worry about fucking up anything here!”

He’d confused you enough that you had to take a second to respond. A small cough took over him while you processed the implications. Two petals dropped to the floor.

“Are you implying that I’m in love with some random surgeon I’ve met a grand total of once?” you asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Only met him once but you never stop talking about him.”

“Because he’s the only doctor I know who could open your lungs without killing you! If that little rat thing on Straw Hat’s crew could do it, I’d have sailed us there instead!”

Kid blinked at you, the glare remaining as though he had forgotten to let it drop. The desk gave a low scrape beneath your palms. You glanced down as its metal feet dragged a fraction across the floor. Unusual. Even when annoyed, Kid rarely disturbed the furniture.

“Then who?” he asked.

“What?”

“You said you could have caught this,” he said. “Imagine you did. Where the hell would we be sailing to?”

You stepped around the desk and walked closer so you stood in front of him, head tilted up. “What? Do you want some kind of exchange? Where I give you my secret and you tell me yours? If that was all you wanted, you should have asked me days ago. I’ll tell you anything if you give me a solution.”

He breathed out through his nose slowly. You waited. His gaze flicked to the flower where it lay on the table and then back to you.

“Fine,” he said. “Where would we go?”

The confession lodged briefly in your throat. Then Kid dragged in another shallow breath, and embarrassment stopped mattering.

“We wouldn’t need to change course at all,” you said. “I wouldn’t even step out of this room.”

Recognition flickered over Kid’s face too quickly. It was replaced by an irritation that didn’t fit well enough; a default expression he couldn’t hide behind right now.

“Say it clearer.”

You gave him a look. “You’re not stupid, captain. And there’s no invisible man standing in the corner.”

“Doesn’t matter. Say it better than that.”

“It’s you,” you said. “If I got sick, I would have come to tell you.”

He grabbed your arm without warning and pulled you into him, lips against yours before you had a second to realise what was happening. He tasted like blood. Awful and sharp against your palate and yet you kissed him back without hesitation.

There was no thought behind it. No sensible pause to question why. Your arms were caught against his chest as he dragged you closer until there was no space between you. He kissed with the same aggression he brought to everything else; his teeth caught your lip, and his grip tightened when you tried to pull back for air.

Metal shifted throughout the room.

Something struck the floor behind you. Your chair scraped against the ground as the instruments in your drawers rattled against one another.

Years of wanting him rose through you all at once. Every feeling you had forced quieter broke loose beneath the pressure of his mouth. You could feel his heart hammering against your arms, could taste the blood on his mouth and your thoughts stumbled back into place.

You pulled back sharply.

Your breathing came unevenly and his was even worse, each inhale rough and rasping.

“Your turn,” you said.

Kid had frozen, his shoulders tense and his jaw tight. “You need more of an answer?”

You snatched the flower from your desk and threw it against his chest. “You nearly died for me! You absolute bastard, yes! I need more than a fucking kiss! Do you have any idea how much I’ve been worried! Any idea of how… I want to hear your fucking reason for why you didn’t just tell me at the beginning!”

The metal in the room quietened. Something clattered loudly to the ground nearby but neither of you looked to it.

Then he shrugged. “Didn’t want some pity lie just because I was choking.”

“Fine,” you said. “But why not before you brought up triple your lung capacity in flower petals?!”

“Just didn’t think you were interested.”

“In what?” you said. “In you? How would you ever think that?! I’ve been in love with you for so long that it’s a running joke amongst all the other women!”

He flinched at that. Good. He deserved to.

“I was going to tell you,” he said. “When I saw the fucking petals, I figured I’d just come here and say something to get it to stop. But then you saw the damned things and I couldn’t just say it anymore.”

“Yes, you could have.”

“You would have pretended even if you didn’t care.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You’d say whatever kept me breathing. Don’t act like you wouldn’t.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “Because I’m in love with you. And, by the way, you still haven’t told me.”

“Fine!” he snapped. “You need me to tell you it directly? You. It’s been you since that first time you came at me with a needle and told me my arm would rot off.”

You stilled, momentarily paused because that… that was ages ago. That was long before you’d even agreed to follow him around the world. That was back when you still found him intimidating and you’d yet to learn that for all the bluff, staring him down was the best way to quieten his moods.

“What?” he barked when you were quiet for too long. “Don’t stare at me like that.”

You shook your head. “Kid… You know… I just… fuck you.”

You gave up looking for words and just reached for him instead. He met you halfway, mouth harsh against yours as you dragged him to you. Relief pushed through the last of your anger as you focused on just him.

Then he coughed.

You tore yourself away immediately.

He bent forward, bracing himself against the edge of your desk as the coughs dragged through him. They sounded just as vicious as before, deep enough to turn your stomach and for a horrible moment, you feared the cure was as much a myth as you’d thought the disease had been.

You caught his shoulder just as something fell from his mouth and splattered over the floor.

Not another full flower. Nothing fresh or bright.

The petals were wilted, curling in on themselves. You knelt down to consider them and Kid wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he coughed once more and inhaled.

You looked up at him. “Go sit on one of the beds.”

“I’m fine.”

“You said that when you sounded like you had gravel in your lungs. Go.”

He glared but sat on one of the beds anyway, grumbling beneath his breath while you grabbed a stethoscope. You tugged up his shirt before he could protest and pressed it against his ribs.

The crackling hadn’t disappeared completely. His lungs still sounded irritated and you suspected they would be for some time after everything he’d put them through but the obstruction was easing. Air moved where it hadn’t before.

The relief almost hurt as you breathed out.

“Feels better,” he muttered.

“Good. Then it’ll feel even better tomorrow. You’re staying here to rest until I can be certain it’s continuing to improve.”

Kid’s eyes narrowed. “What? No.”

“You have potentially damaged lungs, and blood loss so I need to watch you. And it’s also punishment,” you said. “For making me stress so much.”

He gave you a flat look but didn’t try to stand again.

You kissed him once more, to be certain he was still there. His lips still carried a trace of iron but his breathing had steadied. Each inhale came deeper than the last, no longer catching whatever had been growing inside him.

Tags: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow ; @aceidentallyinlove ; @ilovedreming ; @moon-shampoo

His hands shake when he lights another cigarette, it takes him three tries.

You watch him in silence and then finally, you grab the lighter from him “Give it here.”

He smiles sheepishly “Thanks.”

You hand it back “You’re acting strange.”

“Am I?”

“Very.”

He doesn’t answer, instead, he looks toward Law. The little boy is sitting not far away, pretending not to listen.

Rosinante watches him for a long moment and then he quietly says, “Can you come with me for a minute?”

You frown “Now?”

“Please.”

Something in his voice makes your stomach tighten, so you just nod.

He leads you away from there, far enough that even the sound of the fire disappears.

Snow crunches beneath your boots while neither of you speaks.

Finally you stop walking “Rosinante.”

He turns and you think you’ve never seen him look so tired and so... sad.

“Tell me what’s happening.”

Silence.

Then he reaches into his coat and your heart skips. He simply takes off one black glove and he gently takes yours as he says “I need you to promise me something.”

Your eyes narrow “No.”

He blinks “...No?”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

A weak laugh escapes him “You’re always so stubborn.”

“I learned from you.”

He smiles for a second but then it disappears again “If... something happens...”

You immediately shake your head “No.”

“Listen.”

“No!” your voice echoes through the snow “Nothing is going to happen.”

He gently squeezes your hand “Please.”

You stare at him and he almost looks frightened, not for himself but for you and for Law.

Your chest begins to hurt “Rosinante...”

His voice is barely above a whisper “Promise me you’ll watch over Law.”

Your heart stops, the world suddenly feels very quiet “...Why?”

He doesn’t answer, instead he smiles. That soft smile you love so much.

Tears begin to burn your eyes “Tell me why.”

Nothing.

“Tell me!”

He looks away “I can’t.”

You grab the front of his shirt “Then I won’t promise you anything.”

For a second you think he’ll give in but instead he leans forward until hs forehead rests against yours “Please...”

The word sounds broken, like it hurts to say.

You close your eyes while every instinct tells you something terrible is coming… but very slowly, you nod and say “...I promise.”

He lets out a quiet breath, almost relieved “Thank you.”

Before you can ask another question he suddenly grabs your wrist.

“Rosinante?”

He starts running “Wait!”

He pulls you toward an old wooden storage house standing alone near the fireplace.

You stumble after him “What are you doing?”

No answer, he opens the old door and pushes you inside.

You almost lose your balance “Rosinante!”

The door slams shut, a heavy wooden beam drops into place outside.

Your eyes widen and so you throw yourself against the door but, of course, it doesn't move.

“Rosinante!” you scream and hit the door with both fists “Open the door!”

Nothing.

Only his voice through the old wood, so quiet that it's almost impossible to hear “...I’m sorry.”

Your heart pounds “Don’t you dare!”

You shove your shoulder against the door. Pain shoots through your arm but the wood doesn’t move.

“Rosinante!”

You hear his footsteps, walking away.

You scream his name until your throat burns.

You throw yourself against the door again and again, until the old wood barely shakes.

“Rosinante!”

You hit it until your palms sting and your breathing becomes uneven.

You look around desperately. The little wooden house is almost empty, with only broken shelves, dust and old ropes.

Then you see the window. It faces the snowy field outside, exactly where Rosinante and Law are.

You rush toward it “Thank God...”

You grab the handles and pull but… nothing. You pull harder but the window doesn’t move.

“No... no, no...”

You look around but there’s nothing useful, so you just raise your fist, ready to hit the window, no matter how it would hurt.

But before you can even hit the glass… Rosinante looks at you making your body freeze.

He’s watching you… his eyes meet yours through the glass and slowly he shakes his head, then his lips move “Please.”

Your fist relaxes and you drop your hand, while the tears blur your vision.

You shake your head violently “No...”

Outside, Rosinante kneels beside Law.

You press both hands against the cold glass as your tears leave small marks across your face.

You watch him smile at the boy, like nothing terrible is about to happen.

Law is in a treasure chest.

Even through the glass you can see him refusing, crying and begging.

Rosinante says something and then… he gently places Law inside the treasure chest. The lid slowly closes.

Your chest tightens so much it hurts.

Rosinante rests one hand on the chest. He smiles, the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.

A goodbye.

Then he looks at you and time stops. Snow falls between you.

He smiles again, but smaller this time. Then his lips move slowly so that you won’t miss a single word “I love you.”

Your breath catches but he gives you another smile, even softer “Thank you.”

Your entire body shakes as fresh tears spill down your face.

You slam your hands against the glass “I love you too!”

Rosinante’s smile falters a little… he knows you answered.

Very gently… he nods.

Then… he turns around and your eyes finally go toward Doflamingo.

Your heart drops “No!”

You scream, or at least you think you do.

But you saw what Rosinante did to Law, you saw him using his powers and it doesn’t need much to understand he did the same to you.

There’s no sound, only silence.

He did it so that neither of you would be heard. So neither of you could give away your hiding place.

Then you hear a gunshot and see Rosinante’s body fall.

You want to slam both fists against the glass, break it and run to him.

But… you can’t.

You have to stay, for Law and even for… him, because you promised him.

Even while dying… he’s still protecting you and Law.

Rosinante falls into the snow, and he doesn’t get back up.

Your legs give out beneath you, and for one endless second… the whole world stops.

Movements from the treasure chest make your head snap toward it.

The lid opens and you see Law climbing out.

His face is soaked with tears, his mouth is open in a scream you cannot hear. He stumbles away from where Rosinante’s body is.

Exactly like Rosinante wanted… and your promise starts now.

Your eyes dart to the other side of the house, where it’s more hidden… another window.

You don’t hesitate this time… you give it a few punches and it breaks, even if your hands are bleeding, you don’t care.

When the old glass explodes outward, you feel the cold air rushing inside.

You climb through without caring as sharp pieces cut your hands even more.

You don’t even look at Rosinante… because if you do you’ll never be able to move again.

You run after the crying boy disappearing into the white snow, keeping the promise the man you loved died to entrust to you.

Your hands won’t stop shaking and your chest hurts.

Your mind reminds of his last smile, his last words… and his eyes. The thought won’t leave you alone.

You run until your legs begin to ache, until you see a small figure kneeling in the snow.

His shoulders shake violently. A little boy, broken and alone.

You slow down “...Law.”

The boy freezes for a second, he doesn’t turn around right away, but then he spins toward you.

Now you can see his face, red from crying, cheeks wet and his eyes… are full of something you’ve never seen before. Something more like hatred.

He rushes toward you and before you can even react his little fists slam against you “Why?!”

Another hit.

“Why didn’t you save him?!”

You stumble backward but you don’t even try to stop him.

Another punch and then another.

They don’t hurt… not compared to the ache inside your chest.

“You were there!” his voice cracks “You were there!”

He keeps hitting you, each blow weaker than the last. But you accept every single one, because… he’s right.

You were there, you watched everything and you didn’t save him.

Law grabs the front of your coat.

His tiny fingers shake so much he can barely hold on “You loved him too!”

Your breath catches and the tears you thought had stopped begin falling again.

Law buries his face against your body, still punching but weaker and still crying “You didn’t help...”

Your knees finally give out and so you both fall into the snow.

Law doesn’t have any strength left to keep hitting you, so he simply clutches your coat.

His whole body trembling “Why did he leave me...?”

Your lips part, but no answer comes.

Then, after some silence, your voice finally comes out, but it’s barely a whisper “I’m sorry...”

Law jerks away from you, his eyes still filled with tears “Don’t say sorry!”

He wipes his face angrily “Bring him back!”

Silence, followed by a small “Please...”

That word breaks you.

“Please tell me how to use this power… I can save him…”

Your shoulders begin to shake, so you lower your head “I can’t… I don’t know anything…”

Law stares at you, as if he’s waiting for you to say you’re joking. Waiting for Corazon to appear behind you like this is all some terrible prank.

Instead… you cry.

You cry harder than you ever have before.

Your forehead touches the snow making your tears disappear into the white ground “I couldn’t save him...”

Your voice breaks “I couldn’t...”

You feel so weak and useless.

Rosinante believed in you, trusted you and loved you… and you failed.

You failed him, you failed Law and you failed yourself.

Law slowly stands and looks down at you. His little fists tighten “...I hate you.”

The words are quiet, but they cut deeper than any knife.

You nod, still staring at the snow “I know.”

Law waits, maybe hoping you’ll argue, maybe hoping you’ll tell him you’re lying and that everything will somehow be okay.

You don’t… because you can’t.

Finally you force yourself to stand even if your legs feel heavy.

You don't look at him and just say “Go.”

Law blinks “...What?”

“Go.” your voice is flat and cold, nothing like how you really feel “You’ll be safer without me.”

Law stares, confused, hurt and rightfully angry “You’re... leaving?”

You nod once, very slowly “Yes.”

His lips tremble, but then he clenches his fists “Fine!”

He turns around so fast he almost slips in the snow “I don’t need you!”

You close your eyes “...I know.”

Without another word Law starts walking and doesn't look back.

You watch his small figure disappear between the snow-covered trees, and only when you can’t see him anymore… you finally let yourself fall.

You don’t know where your feet carry you… everything around you is gray, as if the world lost every color the moment Rosinante smiled at you one last time.

You remember every detail as if it's still happening in front of you.

His lips and his smile.

His “I love you” and his “Thank you.”

Then… the gunshots.

You cover your ears but it doesn't help, because they're just inside your head now.

Your legs give out beneath you and you collapse.

For the first time since you met Rosinante… you feel completely alone.

Hours pass, or maybe only minutes… time has stopped making sense.

You whisper into the empty forest “You believed in the wrong person...”

Fresh tears run down your cheeks “You thought I was strong.”

A bitter laugh escapes you “I’m not.”

Your breathing becomes uneven again “I couldn’t even save the person I loved the most.”

You bury your face against your arms “I’m sorry...”

Everything hurts… your chest, your eyes, and even breathing.

You wish you could sleep, just for a little, to forget everything, forget the snow, the blood… the promise…

Your eyes slowly open at that thought.

Promise me...

You stop breathing as Rosinante’s face appears in your mind, this time not the one covered in blood or smiling his goodbye to you, but the one from earlier that day.

The tired and scared one, that was for trusting you.

Your fingers slowly tighten around your sleeves and then you stand up so suddenly that your knees almost give out again.

“Law...” your voice is hoarse.

You left him, a little kid, alone.

Your heart pounds so hard it hurts “No...”

You wipe your tears away with both hands, take one shaky breath and look forward, with a new mission in mind.

Your eyes are no longer empty, they’re determined. Still broken and still grieving, but determined.

“I already failed you once...” your voice trembles “I’m not failing you again.”

You start running and start looking everywhere for Law… until you hear a little kid crying.

You look ahead, and far in the distance you spot a small figure who keeps walking alone.

You don’t call his name and you don’t run to him… you simply follow, far enough that he won’t see you, but close enough that if danger comes you’ll reach him first.

Rosinante trusted you with the most precious thing he had and you almost forgot… but never again, even if Law hates you and even if he’ll never forgive you.

You’ll keep your promise for the rest of your life.

You stay hidden behind the trees, but fortunately for you, Law never looks back, he just keeps walking as his shoulders tremble and his little hands are balled into fists.

You wipe your eyes and you follow.

That first night alone… Law sleeps inside an abandoned house.

You stay outside, curled beneath the broken roof of an old shed across from it.

The wind is freezing, so you don’t sleep, even because every small noise makes your hand reach for the knife at your belt.

Morning comes and you see Law leaving before sunrise.

You follow him again, making sure he’s ok.

The second day… you see him stealing bread. The baker notices and Law runs, but the baker chases him.

You see Law hiding before the man can catch him. So you take that moment of confusion from the baker to quietly step into the alley behind him, and with a single kick, sending an empty barrel rolling across the street.

It crashes loudly and the baker jumps, turns and runs toward the noise instead, giving enough time to Law to escape.

The third day...

He develops a fever, you can see it in the way he walks slower and the way his breathing is heavier.

He hasn’t eaten since yesterday, so you wait until he falls asleep beneath an old bridge to leave medicine next to him, with fresh water and bread.

When he wakes you watch him stare at the little bundle. His brows knit together as he looks around and sees there's no one.

After a long moment and thoughts, he quietly takes it.

Days become weeks and weeks become months.

Your routine never changes.

Law walks and you follow.

Law fights and you step in only if his life is truly in danger.

Law steals sometimes but at this point you just steal first to give it to him before he even does it.

He never sees you, or at least you think he doesn’t.

Almost a year passes and Law grows taller, enough that his sleeves are beginning to look too short.

He’s stronger too, he doesn’t cry anymore, at least not where anyone can see.

One evening he suddenly stops walking and without even turning around he says “You’re terrible at hiding.”

Your heart skips, but then you slowly step out from behind the tree.

Law doesn’t even look surprised, he just sighs “I noticed months ago.”

You blink “...You did?”

He finally turns… he’s still just a child, but his eyes already become the eyes you’ll one day recognize in a pirate captain.

Sharp, calm and always watching everything.

“The medicine.” he points at you “The food. The Marines that kept disappearing… That was you.”

You lower your head “...Yeah.”

You expect him to yell and to tell you to leave, but instead he turns around again “You’re still annoying.”

You blink and then a tiny smile appears on your face “I know.”

He starts walking and you remain where you are, confused.

After several steps Law stops and, again, without looking back he says “Well?”

You tilt your head and he continues “Are you coming or not?”

Your eyes widen and a small laugh escapes you before you can stop it “...Yeah.”

From that day on you no longer have to hide.

Nothing changes, and yet… everything does.

You still don’t walk beside him, you naturally stay a few steps behind and Law never comments on it, but sometimes without thinking, he slows down enough for you to catch up.

You two stop in abandoned towns, sleep in empty buildings and share fires during cold nights.

Grief still sits between you… some wounds need more than time.

Law keeps training everyday. He cuts rocks with a stolen sword. Runs until his legs give out. Practices with his powers until blood drips from his nose.

One afternoon he collapses face-first into the grass.

You kneel beside him “Enough.”

“No.”

“You’re exhausted.”

“Again.” he tries to stand but falls immediately.

You cross your arms “You’re proving my point.”

Law glares “Cora-san would’ve let me keep going.”

You raise one eyebrow “Cora-san… would’ve carried you somewhere to eat, then pretended he didn’t.”

Law goes quiet and then a tiny snort escapes him “...Yeah.”

Years pass slowly and quietly.

The hatred disappears, but not because either of you talks about it, but because life keeps moving.

One day Law throws you a blanket “Take it.”

“You’ll freeze.”

“I’m warm enough.”

You know he’s lying, so you cut the blanket in half with an old knife.

He sighs “Idiot.”

“Learned from the best.”

For the first time Law laughs, small, but it sounds so much like Rosinante’s that tears immediately sting your eyes.

When Law is thirteen a white polar bear crashes into your lives.

Law saves Bepo while he’s being bullied by two boys named Shachi and Penguin, knocking them out with his devil fruit powers.

Bepo follows him in your “home” and slowly looks at you, who are watching at the two confused.

“...Hello.”

You burst into laughter and after that Bepo becomes family almost immediately, even if Law pretends otherwise.

“He’s loud.”

You look at him and say “He’s not, he’s cute and gentle… And actually? You’re louder.”

“Impossible.”

“You yelled at a fish yesterday.”

“It deserved it.”

Bepo giggles and Law groans.

A month later, you see Bepo and Law coming back with two unconscious boys… Shachi and Penguin. They tell you they found them like that and you don’t even have the time to say anything that Law starts giving orders on how to treat them. 

You look at him surprised and proud but you say nothing and just help.

After Shachi and Penguin recover, they both bow and say together “Thank you!” and then they look at Bepo and Law and say “Sorry for last time…”

You don’t even ask, you just let the kids be kids and, mostly, you let Law do his own things.

The four boys fill every quiet place with noise.

Sometimes you sit a little farther away, watching them laugh together and your chest warms.

Rosinante… he’s not alone anymore.

The years keep moving and the four boys grow.

Law’s devil fruit powers become stronger and every evening you still train together.

“Again.”

A blue sphere expands around you.

ROOM.

Your sword disappears and appears behind you.

You smile “Much faster.”

Law wipes sweat from his forehead “Not fast enough.”

“Compared to yesterday?”

He hesitates “...Better.”

You grin “Then that’s enough for today.”

“One more.”

“Law.”

“One.”

You sigh dramatically “You’re just as stubborn as he was.”

Law smirks “I know.”

Then one evening, when he’s already sixteen, Law finds you sitting alone outside, as you watch the sun disappear beyond the sea.

He quietly sits beside you “The ship is almost finished.”

You nod… you already knew. You’ve watched him draw those plans for months.

“So...” you smile “You’re finally going.”

He nods once and silence follows.

Then you whisper “Can I tell you something?”

Law hums.

“I loved him.”

He doesn’t look surprised, he simply nods and says “I know.”

You blink “...You knew?”

A small smile appears on his face “Cora-san made it obvious for both of you.”

You let out a tiny laugh “How?”

Law leans back on his hands, looking toward the sunset.

“After he saved me...” his voice softens “When he finally started talking to me… He couldn’t shut up about you.”

You cover your mouth.

Law continues, a little embarrassed “Every story of his somehow became about you.”

He begins counting on his fingers “‘She’ll scold me if she sees this burn’.”

Another finger: “‘She makes the best soup’.”

Another: “‘She’s stronger than she thinks she is’.”

Your vision blurs.

Law smiles “Then...”

His eyes lower and continues “One night...he thought I was asleep.”

Your heart pounds.

“He said...” Law closes his eyes, as if he can still hear Rosinante’s gentle voice “‘When all of this is over’...”

Silence.

“...‘I’m going to tell her I love her properly’.”

A sob escapes before you can stop it. Your shoulders shake but you smile through the tears.

All these years… wondering if those last words had only been spoken because he was dying. And now you know he truly meant them.

Law quietly hands you a handkerchief without looking at you.

You laugh at that through your tears “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

After a while your breathing steadies and you look at him.

A young man… surrounded by people who love him and strong enough to protect them.

You smile proudly “I’m proud of you, Law.”

He sighs “You always say that.”

“Because every year you give me another reason.”

You gently straighten the collar of his coat, just like you used to when he was little.

He doesn’t stop you.

“You’ve become someone who protects others.”

“Only my crew.”

“Exactly.” you smile warmly “You’ve found your family.”

Law looks toward the sea, where his future waits.

Your voice becomes almost a whisper “Rosinante would be so proud of you.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and when he finally does, his voice is quiet but certain “...I know.”

Then he looks at you “And...” he hesitates, as if the next words are too difficult “...he’d be proud of you too.”

You shake your head “No.”

“Yes.” his answer comes without hesitation “You think you failed him, but you didn’t.”

Your lips tremble.

Law gives you a small smile and continues “You kept your promise to him.”

Your eyes fill once more.

He stands, adjusts his sword at his side, and then, before walking back toward Bepo, Penguin and Shachi, he pauses. Without turning around, he says quietly “...Thank you.”

Only two words, but from Trafalgar Law? They’re worth a lifetime.

You watch him walk toward his future, toward the sea, toward the dream Rosinante died to protect, and for the first time, the promise resting on your shoulders no longer feels heavy.

You’ve spent years in Dressrosa… always moving, always watching, gathering names, places and secrets.

Waiting for the day the Heavenly Demon falls.

You always imagined doing it alone, and you never imagined seeing another familiar face there.

You stop walking when across the square you spot a man wearing a spotted white hat… who freezes too, for one long second...

He's taller now. Dark circles beneath tired eyes. A long sword rests against his shoulder.

But… you’d recognize him anywhere.

“...Law?”

His lips part ever so slightly, almost like he forgot how to speak.

“...It’s been a while.”

You don’t even think, you close the distance and wrap your arms around him.

He stiffens, and behind him, several strangers blink in surprise. A long-nosed man’s jaw drops. A dark haired girl smiles.

Law sighs but he doesn’t push you away.

You pull back just enough to cup his face “Look at you...”

Your eyes immediately become wet “You’re so skinny.”

Law deadpans “That’s your first comment?”

“Have you been eating good?”

“Yes.”

You narrow your eyes “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You always wrinkle your nose when you lie.”

He immediately stops moving his face.

You smile triumphantly “See?”

The boy with the long nose tilts his head “He has people who scold him?”

Law pinches the bridge of his nose “Can we move on?”

Only then you notice where he is… Dressrosa.

Your smile fades and your stomach twists.

You look around at the city and then back at Law and your expression hardens as you say “...No.”

Law says nothing.

You take one step closer “Absolutely not.”

He sighs “I figured you’d react like this.”

“You’re here because of him.”

Law doesn’t deny it, instead he calmly asks you “Aren’t you here for the same reason?”

You hate that he's right.

You cross your arms “Yeah. But you’re too young for this.”

Law looks at you, then without missing a beat “And you’re too old.”

Silence.

The two Strawhats stare.

Your eye twitches “Oi.” you point a finger at him “I’m not that old!”

A tiny smirk appears on Law’s face.

Usopp practically shouts “He can smile?!”

Law ignores him.

You poke his chest “Listen here, brat.”

Another poke “I’m a pirate too.”

Another poke “I’m the one who trained you in the first place.”

Another poke “You’re still just a kid.”

You grin “Leave Doflamingo to me.”

The smile disappears from Law's face and his expression becomes unreadable.

Quietly he says “I’m twenty-six.”

You freeze as the words echo inside your head.

Law isn’t just telling you his age, he’s telling you that he’s ready to die, just like the man who saved him.

Your hands slowly fall to your sides “...I get it.”

Law says nothing.

You meet his eyes and shake your head as a sad smile appears “But this time...”

Your voice is steady “...I won’t stand still.”

Law opens his mouth, probably to argue, but you don’t let him.

You look around frowning “Where’s your crew?”

Your smile returns “I miss Bepo.”

Law doesn’t answer, he simply looks away.

Your smile slowly fades and your voice drops to a whisper “...Law. You left them.”

Now you understand… of course he did… he came here expecting not to return. He didn’t bring them because he refused to make them watch him die.

Like Rosinante… who locked you inside that wooden house.

You step closer, so that only he can hear you “You’re an idiot.”

Law lets out a quiet breath “I know.”

You smile sadly “No.”

You gently flick his forehead, just like you used to.

He blinks in surprise.

Then you say softly “You’re exactly like him.”

Law closes his eyes.

You take a deep breath and then turn toward the palace looming over Dressrosa.

Your hand settles on the hilt of your sword to give you courage.

The royal plateau trembles beneath every blow.

From below people scream, pirates run and fight.

Up here there are two men, one fighting for revenge and the other playing with him.

Law falls to one knee, his breathing is ragged.

Blood drips from his fingertips, from his chest, from wounds that refuse to close, as he struggles to stay standing.

Across from him Doflamingo smiles, relaxed and almost bored “Is that all?”

Law doesn’t answer but he forces himself upright again.

ROOM.

The blue sphere expands, he disappears and reappears behind Doflamingo.

Kikoku swings but Doflamingo blocks without even looking, strings wrap around the blade.

Another kick and Law is thrown across the rooftop, crashing through a broken stone. The impact steals the air from his lungs.

Luffy is still trapped fighting Bellamy.

Doflamingo slowly walks toward Law, hands in his pockets and smiling “You know… he looked just like you at the end. Broken.”

He takes another step “Bleeding.”

Another step “Still pretending he could protect someone.”

Law grips Kikoku tighter, so much that his knuckles turn white “Don’t...”

Doflamingo laughs “He died like a fool.”

Law suddenly lunges in a desperate slash, but it's too slow.

Strings catch the blade and then another kick.

This time Law doesn't get back up immediately.

A shadow lands between them.

Your sword catches the strings inches before they reach Law’s neck.

Sparks scatter across the rooftop.

Doflamingo’s grin widens in genuine amusement “Well...”

He slowly adjusts his sunglasses “Look who’s finally here.”

You don’t lower your sword.

Your eyes never leave his.

Years waiting for this moment.

Your voice is cold “Get away from him.”

Behind you Law exhales, almost in disbelief “...You finally came.”

You don’t look back “Of course I did. You really thought I’d let you do something this stupid alone?”

Law sighs “...Yeah.”

Doflamingo chuckles low and cruelly, “How nostalgic.”

He spreads his arms dramatically “Rosinante’s little wife!”

For years people assumed you and Rosinante were together but neither of you ever bothered correcting them. Sometimes you even played along to get free food or just for fun.

So instead, now you smile, but a sad one “Yeah.”

Law glances at you surprised.

Your eyes remain fixed on Doflamingo “And I’m here to finish what my husband couldn’t.”

For the first time Doflamingo’s smile slightly falters. Then he laughs louder than ever “Fuffuffuffu! Sure!”

The fight begins again, this time together, you and Law move without speaking.

Years of training, years of surviving, years of protecting each other.

Law uses his powers to make you disappear and reappear above Doflamingo. Your blade comes down but strings block it.

Law attacks from below while you force Doflamingo to dodge left, exactly where Law expected.

A shockwave tears through the rooftop, stone explodes beneath your feet.

“Still protecting him?” Doflamingo laughs while blocking another strike “my stupid brother really infected you.”

You answer with another slash.

The battle grows faster and harder.

Law’s breathing becomes heavier.

You notice immediately. He’s reaching his limit again.

Doflamingo notices too and so, he smiles.

Then suddenly he changes targets from you to Law. Hundreds of razor-thin strings burst toward him.

Law is already moving forward but you’re faster and you throw yourself between them.

The strings pierce your side and hot pain explodes through your body.

Your breath disappears and blood splashes across the stone.

Law freezes and his eyes widen “...No.”

Another string cuts across your shoulder.

Your sword slips from your fingers and it clatters loudly against the floor.

The sound echoes.

Your knees finally give out but Law catches you before you fall.

“No...”

Not again, not someone else, not because of him.

This is what both you and Law are thinking.

Law’s hands shake so badly he can barely hold you.

You smile weakly, trying to be exactly like Rosinante used to.

Doflamingo watches, laughing “How pathetic.”

He slowly walks closer.

“You really want to follow my idiot little brother into hell...”

He stops a few steps away, looking down at both of you “...just for this useless brat?”

You slowly lift your head, even if your vision is blurry and even if your whole body burns, your smile never disappears.

“Don’t call...” you try to say but blood fills your mouth making you cough.

Law grips you tighter “Don’t talk.”

You ignore him and your eyes remain on Doflamingo “...him...”

Another painful breath “...your brother...”

You slowly leave Law's grip and stand up. Your hand stays on the cut at your side “I...”

Your fingers tremble “...still have...”

A tear slips down your face “...a promise...”

You smile softly “...to keep.”

Something inside Law snaps. He stands.

His eyes are empty and way colder than you’ve ever seen them.

ROOM.

The blue sphere explodes around you all. Law vanishes and appears directly before Doflamingo. Kikoku crashes against awakened strings.

The impact shakes the palace and Doflamingo is actually pushed back. Only one step but it’s enough.

Then a voice echoes across the rooftop.

Luffy.

Doflamingo clicks his tongue “Finally.”

His attention shifts to Luffy for an instant and Law immediately turns back, toward you.

He kneels so fast he nearly slips on the blood. One trembling hand presses against your wound, while the other gently brushes your hair away from your face.

He’s breathing too fast. He reminds you so much of that little kid who cried for Rosinante, but he also looks so different from that time… now he’s trying to save someone else.

His voice is barely audible “...You kept your promise.”

You blink slowly, looking at him.

He smiles… a broken smile and says “Thank you...”

His throat tightens “...for raising me.”

Your eyes widen.

“For staying...” his voice cracks “For every meal...”

A shaky laugh, mixed with tears “...for every time you yelled at me...”

You try to answer, but nothing comes out.

Law gently squeezes your hand.

Then very quietly, like he’s finally speaking to both you and Rosinante he says “I can protect people now.”

He smiles through tears “...So let me protect you.”

ROOM.

You crash into someone’s arms. Usopp stumbles backward.

Your clothes are soaked in blood and your breathing is shallow.

Usopp’s face drains of color “LAW SENT HER HERE!”

You weakly grab Usopp’s sleeve as support, looking toward the distant rooftop, toward the captain who sent you away and a tiny smile appears.

He finally did it.

13 years ago Rosinante protected Law. Today you protected Law and Law protected you.

The promise isn’t just yours anymore, it became his too.

For the first time in years… Dressrosa is quiet.

People around are crying, laughing and holding each other after believing they would never see another sunrise.

You walk through the ruined streets slowly, carrying water and bandaging cuts.

The kingdom is broken but it’s alive again.

You smile to yourself.

Later you find Law standing alone at the edge of the harbor.

His hands rest in the pockets of his coat as he’s watching the sea.

You quietly walk beside him “So...”

Law glances sideways.

“You’re leaving again.”

He nods once “Yeah.”

You smile “Good.”

He raises an eyebrow “Good?”

“If you stayed in one place for too long, I’d start worrying.”

A tiny smirk appears “You worry anyway.”

“That’s true.”

He lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a laugh.

You both look toward the sea and then you softly say “I’m proud of you.”

Law sighs dramatically “You always start with that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

He doesn’t argue, he simply listens.

You fold your hands behind your back, looking at the waves “You’ve come farther than either of us imagined.”

A pause “You found your family.”

Another pause “You protected them.”

You smile softly “You smiled again.”

He clicks his tongue, but he doesn’t deny it.

You inhale slowly, the next words are the ones you’ve wanted to tell him for years as you watched his journey in the newspapers “Rosinante would be proud of you.”

Law’s little smile disappears and his eyes lower toward the water. For a long moment he says nothing.

Then, very quietly “...It’s not me who defeated him.”

You look at him.

His fingers tighten inside his pockets “Straw Hat did.”

You study him. Then you gently bump his shoulder with yours “And you think you did nothing?”

He looks at you confused and you smile warmly and patiently, like you used to when he was still a stubborn little boy refusing medicine.

“Who brought Luffy here?”

Law doesn’t answer.

“Who spent thirteen years chasing Doflamingo?”

Silence.

You continue anyway.

“Who trusted someone else enough to carry the dream when he couldn’t?”

Law lowers his head and your voice softens “Rosinante never wanted revenge.”

Law closes his eyes.

You already know he’s remembering him.

“He wanted children to smile.” your own voice begins to tremble “He wanted you...” a shaky breath “...to live.”

Law’s shoulders stiffen.

“That’s all he ever wanted.”

The harbor grows quiet around you and for a while neither of you speaks.

Then Law lets out a long breath, almost like he’s setting down a weight he’d been carrying for years “...You always sound like him.”

You blink, then laugh quietly “Do I?”

“Sometimes it’s annoying.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

A small smile returns to his face.

After another long silence Law suddenly speaks without looking at you “Come with me.”

You turn “Hm?”

He shrugs, trying to act and sound casual but failing “The crew… You haven’t seen them in years.”

You immediately picture Bepo laughing, Penguin complaining and Shachi shouting.

Your heart warms.

Law scratches the back of his neck “You should come meet them again.”

Your smile grows softer but then you gently shake your head “No.”

Law finally looks at you, not surprised but waiting.

You glance toward Dressrosa and smile.

“This...” you gesture toward the sea “This is your adventure.” then you shake your head “Not mine.”

Your eyes go on the kingdom “I think this place needs help getting back on its feet.”

Law follows your gaze and after a moment he nods as he understands.

You laugh softly and say “Tell Bepo I miss him.”

Law nods “I will.”

“And tell him… I’m proud of him too.”

Law nods again, then he gives you a look. You know that look… one eyebrow raised.

You laugh “Yes, yes...”

You roll your eyes dramatically “Tell the two other idiots I’m thankful for them too.”

Law snorts “They’ll be disappointed that’s all you said.”

“Good.”

He actually laughs softly and for just a second… you imagine how much Rosinante would be proud and happy right now, so much that your chest aches.

You smile small and gentle “I saw everything.”

Law looks at you.

“The Heart Pirates.” your eyes remain on the sea “Your Jolly Roger.”

A tear begins to gather “Everything you did.”

You smile anyway “Thank you, Law.”

He blinks “For what?”

Your voice barely rises above the wind “I’m glad...” a shaky breath “...someone is still reminding the world that Corasan existed.”

Law is quiet, then he answers “You do too.”

You look at him and he holds your gaze.

“Otherwise...” his voice is calm and certain “...you wouldn’t be here.”

Your smile trembles.

You quickly lower your head, you don’t want him to see, not again and not after all these years, but the first sob escapes anyway.

Your shoulders shake and your hands cover your face.

Your voice breaks completely “I...” another sob “I miss him so much...”

The words leave you in pieces, like they’ve been trapped inside your chest for thirteen long years.

Law says nothing, he simply stays beside you, close enough that you know you’re not alone, but far enough that he doesn’t take away your grief.

He understands that kind of pain isn’t meant to be fixed, but it can be shared to ease it.

You cry and he waits.

When your tears finally slow you wipe your eyes with an embarrassed laugh “Sorry.”

Law shakes his head “Don’t apologize.”

You smile sadly and then take one deep breath.

The sea stretches endlessly before you, and a new adventure waits for him while a different one waits for you.

You reach up and, just like you did when he was a child you straighten his collar.

Law doesn’t complain.

“Take care of yourself.”

“I’ll try.”

For a moment… you could swear you see a flash of pink and purple feathers dancing in the sea breeze.

Law picks up Kikoku and turns toward the strawhats.

Halfway there he stops without looking back, he lifts one hand in a small wave.

You lift your own, even if he can’t see it and you watch until he disappears.

'Fuga.'

You're interested immediately. Coming to a stop outside, the meaning of the shop name is printed in white on the window. 'Fuga — One of the Japanese meanings of this is 'a way of elegance or grace'. We hope to include fuga with every order that we take; there's no rush, just sit back and enjoy.'

The opening and closing times are also unusual. They're open in time for the usual morning rush hour but unlike other coffee stores, they stay open until 9pm. You can't imagine the shifts that their staff must take and how much happens behind the scenes.

Despite being hidden, it is the morning rush hour on a weekday and through the window you can clearly see that there is a queue forming. Underrated coffee shops get discovered pretty quickly these days thanks to social media and it's not long until they'll be announcing a sister location somewhere else in the city.

Stepping inside, a bell chimes overhead but it's drowned out due to the hustle and bustle inside the shop. The scent of crushed coffee beans hits you immediately and the sound of lofi music playing in the background is just about heard over the level of conversations in the store.

Joining the queue, your eyes scan the cafe. It's pretty spacey compared to the other units that most coffee shops rent out. There's clearly more places to sit in the back and all of the window seats are currently taken. There's a handful of students and people in suits either sat working away on their laptops or taking a call. In the corner an old man is sitting back and enjoying a cup of his own hot coffee.

There's three people currently manning the counter and you worry whether that means service is slow but on further observation you notice they work well, weaving in and out of each other. There's a man situated at the till, tall and large you first notice. Then you see that he has pink hair and it's only when you inch closer to being served that you notice he has an array of black tattoos. They're printed on his face as well as around his wrists and you start to wonder how many baristas you've seen with face tattoos.

He seems to be the first.

Behind him seems to be a white haired figure with a plum pink stripe dyed into their hair. It's clear that whoever employs these people are very laid back with how they are presented. The figure moves quickly but also with caution pouring and making drinks before bringing them to the collection section and calling out a name.

You've been so caught up in studying the new environment of the cafe that you don't even realise that it's your turn next. You haven't had the chance to look at the menu so when you finally do, you're left with your mouth open in front of the tattooed man. And on closer observation you find that he's rather intimidating.

"Good morning." you greet.

"What do you want?" he asks in a monotone tone evident that he's been repeating this question for a while. You brush off the fact that he hasn't greeted you back and you simply hum as you stare at the menu.

It's evident that you're irritating the barista by not even knowing what you want, the bored expression on his face and his finger impatiently tapping the counter. Your eyes are scanning the menu until he finally says something that in all of your years of going to local cafes have never heard in your life.

"Can you hurry up?"

"Excuse me?"

"I said," he draws as if it's painfully inconveniencing him to repeat himself, "can you hurry up? There's a queue behind you." It's evident in his tone that he's not asking but rather ordering you to do so and for a split second there's a moment in which you forget that you are in fact the customer.

"I'm aware." you say, "I'm deciding."

"You had two minutes to decide." he retorts.

"I've never been here before, of course I'm going to take my time looking at the menu." you keep a calm tone making it clear that you don't want any misunderstandings.

"Do you want a medal? What's your order?"

Fine. You think to yourself, you're gonna give him the benefit of the doubt.

Maybe it's been a long morning, maybe he wasn't supposed to be on shift today but then got called in, maybe he's just an asshole. You don't care. But what you do care about is getting your morning coffee as usual.

"Vanilla latte with oat milk please."

"We're out of oat milk." he announces keeping his tone flat with enough space to add some frustration into it as if this was your own fault.

"Really?"

He doesn't reply, keeping a blank face that silently asks 'do I look like I'm joking?'

"Uhhh, could I get an iced strawberry matcha then please?"

"We're out."

You hold back a sigh, forcing a tight lipped smile on your face. "Fine. A cappuccino. Any milk you have. Please."

The barista doesn't look up, tapping onto a screen. "Regular or large?"

"What's the difference?" you ask.

He points to the side where the size cup differences are shown and as usual the large is 50p extra.

"Regular."

"Name?"

After giving your name, he mutters something under his breath and if you were in a bad mood this morning then you would have asked him what his issue was but instead you keep quiet, silently wishing he spills lukewarm coffee all over his disgustingly attractive face. Somehow. If it was logical to spill coffee on one's face.

"Four fifty. Tap your card and stand over there." he orders without any patience.

You don't even think twice before tapping your phone and moving immediately. In your mind you continue to curse him forever whilst watching his back muscles move swiftly as he makes your drink. Him and the white haired figure switched places with him making your order and his co-worker now at the till.

You expected a long wait but it takes less than five minutes before he's yelling out your name with impatience.

And he pronounced it wrong.

Whether it was on purpose or he wasn't listening to you at all, you'll never know but you go ahead and take your order. You can't even say thank you directly before he's rushing off and completing another order. Deciding to get out as soon as possible, you grab as many sugar packets you need, a stirrer and you head on out.

"How fucking rude." you mutter to yourself, opening the lid to your cappuccino. There's no latte art and you wouldn't expect there to be given the rush. You pour your sugar in and stir until satisfied, slowly making your way to the office building.

Sure, you know baristas are sometimes not the most welcoming people given the high stress level of their jobs and you've come across some reclusive baristas before but this one…he's just plain rude. You don't usually complain about how people do their job but this one has really struck a nerve.

How was he hired in the first place? Does the manager know he speaks to customers like this? How did he even pass an interview to get hired for this place? Does he act like this with all his customers?

Those are the questions that you continue to ask yourself whilst on the way to work, you get a little distracted after taking a sip of your coffee and coming to find out that your cappuccino is actually pretty good. Usually some cafes don't do cappuccinos the right way but there's something about this cup that makes you wonder what exact type of coffee bean they use.

You make a mental note to check later in your free time and it's not long before you start to feel rejuvenated by your coffee. Despite your bad customer service, you still manage to get a good cup of coffee to support your day and it's almost enough to forget your bad interaction.

*** Almost.

That cup of coffee was good.

Good enough to make you check their company website and check their 'about us' page.

And of course it just so happens that you stumble onto their google reviews.

Fuga Coffee Shop | reviews (54)

Naturally, your laptop cursor clicks onto their reviews. They only opened two months ago so it's understandable why the reviews must be so low, they're just starting out. The reviews are automatically filtered to their top reviews, which is from just over two weeks ago.

ihatemonkeys009

The grumpy tattooed barista is a little anti-social but he makes the best lattes ever! will be coming back again! four stars.

"A little?" you say aloud to yourself, "give me a break."

The review that follows under that is also highly popular.

ghostsarerealiswear2334_67

free wifi and they open early and don't close till late?! best study place ever! (please like my review!) five stars.

kentoforwork89

A nice and newly established restaurant under the Japanese name 'Fuga', the name is fitting for its elegant service and high quality coffee. They have a wide range on the menu and serve food too. The cafe is spacious, plenty of space to study or work and if you use electronics they have power sockets dotted around. Good prices for the service and highly reliable. I will be coming here again as it is not overwhelmingly busy or loud like some other places. I highly recommend. four and a half stars.

ilovesweetssooooooooooomuchhhgojo9838

tHE tattooed barisSta maybe be cold hoever his coffees are the warmest!!!!! xoxoxoxo peefect date location (soz for typos idid this fast on my phone so i coulget fre emochi) FIVE STARTS

You let out a sigh reading the reviews, it's a little cheesy but you get the point. Reading all 54 reviews you've come to find that a lot of people find the same tattooed barista annoying but miraculously all is forgotten once you've tried a coffee from him.

There isn't one totally bad review — maybe from an AI bot who says that the location is in a whole other city but other than that it's clear that this cafe is a new and upcoming contender as one of the best spots in the city.

And that doesn't sit right in your soul.

Taking this personally as someone who runs a company, you understand that if people were talking about your employees in this manner then they would be subject to being fired. You're confused on how this man is still employed even after fifty reviews, surely the owner must be reading them.

You sit in silence for a while as you contemplate.

Should you?

Or shouldn't you?

Hesitant, your fingers hover over your keyboard, testing out a sentence.

i tried this cafe as a new customer — no, no, too cliche, you backspace your sentence entirely.

Thinking for a moment, you reflect on what you want to say. You start typing slowly before it all flows within your fingertips, a mini paragraph forming on your screen. You're writing in the heat of the moment, out of pure frustration and embarrassment. Most people would be able to forgive and forget but well…unfortunately you're not most people.

anonymouscapybara45

this place is relatively new in this city and as a coffee lover i was extremely enthusiastic to try this place out. my high hopes for this cafe were quickly crushed once i was (not even greeted) but completely mistreated by the tattooed barista.

i did not like this service, no matter how good the quality of the coffee was.

i do not think a barista should be talking to customers like this. i felt severely unwelcomed and i am having second thoughts on returning to this place.

there's better and kinder staff in other cafes in the city who i will gladly give my money too.

1 out of 5 stars.

Sure, it's a little…Karen but you feel petty. Highlighting all the adverbs makes you think that your english teacher from high school would be proud. There's a small feeling of guilt in the pit of your stomach as it dawns on you that your review will be the first one star review the company has ever had.

But this is not a baseless review. You actually felt this way at the time. It's a little exaggerated but who cares, they don't know you and they never will because you're not stepping foot there ever again.

There's not much satisfaction in the world that you can get other than pressing post on your review.

***

An hour later you've moved on with your life. You've settled into your home, following your post-work routine and you're now sitting on your couch. Your phone lights up with a notification and your eyes land on the screen.

You get a notification from your gmail that someone has mentioned you in a reply and with your thumb clicking on the message your eyes slightly widen.

The owner has replied to your message.

And for the first time it seems because they haven't seemed to reply to all the other positive messages on the site.

You'd forgotten that this was an option for them, simply thinking that your review would just get the employee removed. Your eyes skim over the reply.

From the Owner of Fuga in reply to anonymouscapybara45

Hello valued customer,

we apologise that you have had this experience recently, it is never our intention to make our customers feel this way. Our company and brand relies majorly on the respect and communication with our customers which is always taught and trained to our employees. We apologise for the actions and behaviour of our barista and on behalf of the company we would like to invite you to have any item on our menu free of charge over the course of the week. We would like to give you a seven day voucher and invite you back to a better atmosphere of our cafe to show you truly how we treat our customers.

Please pop into our cafe at your convenience. We look forward to seeing you and we apologise again for your experience.

Kind regards,

Fuga Owner (Jin Itadori)

Your mind is baffled.

Free drinks…for a week? Because of your bad review?

Not even the other low starred reviews have had this level of response from the owner. You're the first one star review they've had and they haven't even responded maliciously. You can't pass up on this good of an opportunity to have free coffee for the next week? You could be saving a ridiculous amount of money.

You re-read the review a few times to make sure that it still seems real to your eyes.

Maybe it will be the last time that you'll see that barista again.

**

You try your luck the following day. You're a bit more hopeful walking into the coffee shop the next day. It's a little less busier than the previous day and the queue is a little shorter.

But most important of them all, you don't see that tattooed jerk around.

This time serving the till is the white haired figure you saw making the drinks the last time you arrived. Behind them works another person that you haven't seen before who has their back turned making orders.

Soon enough it's your turn to go up to the till.

"Hello." They greet and almost immediately you feel comfortable that you won't be shunned for simply being a customer at this cafe.

"Good morning," you greet back with a smile before explaining your situation. "This may be a bit awkward but uhm, I was the customer who wrote a review of this cafe and uh— the owner said I was given a voucher as some sort of compensation."

For a second you thought you were scammed or that the entire thing was a lie just to catch the poor customer who's written terrible reviews but you watch as the wave of recognition hits the barista.

Instead they nod and say, "one moment" before turning around to head to the back. You shift from one foot to the other, patiently waiting and in the meantime thinking of what you'd want to get as your first free drink.

Your smile soon drops once you see the figure that follows the person that you were speaking to at the till.

That tattooed bastard.

His eyes widen slightly at the sight of you before turning into a miserable frown, clearly he wasn't expecting you to be the customer who wrote the review but there's also something that tells you that he's not totally surprised.

The white haired barista makes their way back to you, "If you go over to Sukuna he can help you with your voucher."

Sukuna. Now you know his name. And now you know he's somehow still employed by this damn coffee shop.

You walk over with hesitation and you can't help but notice Sukuna's eyes watching you as you make your over to a quiet area.

"It was you." he says but there's no bite to his tone. It's merely a statement he's making but you don't miss the judgement in his eyes.

"I was being honest." you shrug, holding your head high. You have no regrets whatsoever, you were merely giving constructive feedback about an environment that felt hostile to you. About a certain someone who was hostile.

Sukuna leans in a little closer to you, one hand placed on the counter as he speaks to you. "Because of you and your stupid review I have to serve you free drinks for a week, which is coming out of my pay by the way."

"Maybe it'll teach you how to speak nicer to customers." you retort back.

You notice his hand turning into a tight fist, gripping the counter, clearly holding back on responding to you. With his other hand he slides over a piece of paper. "Here's your damn voucher and, no I didn't write it, so what do you want?"

You tilt your head a little at him.

Sukuna corrects himself and in a deadpan monotone he starts over. "Hello. Welcome to Fuga. What would you like today?"

A satisfied smile reaches your lips. "Much better. I would like an iced strawberry matcha with oat milk please."

"Regular or large?"

"Hmm since it's on the house, large please."

"It's not on the house…" he mutters.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Hmmmmm."

Sukuna disappears, diving into the hustle and bustle of his other colleagues making your own personal drink. As he makes your drink you look over your voucher, Sukuna's written today's date already and the expiry date is set seven days from now.

Once again, your order doesn't take him long and you spot your green and pink drink in his large hands. Approaching he hands your drink over to you which you thank before taking a sip.

On your tongue, the grassy flavour is immediately sedated by the sweetness of the strawberry at the bottom. There's the perfect amount of ice and matcha in your drink for you to enjoy and it takes everything in you not to fall to your knees and praise Sukuna on how great he's made this drink.

"Not bad." you murmur, downplaying your enthusiasm. "Can I get another free drink?"

"One per day stupid."

"The voucher doesn't clarify that, it's handwritten."

"I don't care."

"Would you like me to write another poor review?"

Now this is what gets Sukuna clenching his jaw together. He takes a pause, calming himself down before speaking to you again. "No anonymouscapybara45 I wouldn't like that because you got me in a lot of shit for this."

You don't flinch when he mentions your username. Ah, so he's read the review then. You quip back, "Your boss fire you yet?"

"No," and there's a slight pout, "he's just annoying the shit out of me at the moment."

"Hmm right, if you make me an iced vanilla latte with oat milk to go I think I might just refrain from writing a bad review about you for today."

You watch as he clenches his jaw in frustration. "Just this once. For the rest of the days you get one drink only."

"And a sweet treat!" you chime in.

Sukuna pauses, mulling over your suggestion. He lets out a sigh.

"A free drink and a snack." He offers.

"Deal." You outstretch your free hand to shake on.

Sukuna looks at your hand in pure disgust like you've just offered to spit in his mouth. "Deal. Just don't make my job harder than it needs to be." he mutters.

"I don't think I can promise that." you reply and you watch in pure satisfaction as he walks away mumbling to himself.

His head leisurely turns, and though they’re hidden behind dark sunglasses, you feel his eyes as they sweep over you before he accepts your outstretched hand.

“You want me to take you into the jungle.”

Glancing down at his hand as it engulfs yours, you can’t tell if he’s asking a question or stating a fact.

Either way, you respond with “Jake said you were the best man for the job.”

Sort of.

[2 DAYS PRIOR]

“Are you crazy?” Jake gawks, “I mean, yes, you’re crazy, but this is like a whole new level for you.”

“I’m not here for your opinion.” You assert, resting your palms on his desk and leaning forward. “I just need someone to take us, someone who knows the area.”

Running a hand through his spiked hair, Jake replies “Look, I know a few guys there but none are gonna buy what you’re selling. Treasure hunters are a dime a dozen in South America.”

“Explorers.” You correct, heaving a sigh. “C’mon, there has to be one guy willing.”

“I’m telling you there’s not.”

Slapping your hands on his desk, you straighten up. “Fine then, we’ll go alone.”

“What?” Jake splutters, “You wouldn’t, you - fuck, you would.” He groans.

Glaring at you for a moment, Jake shakes his head before rummaging through the papers strewn across his desk.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous Ecuador is? Do you know how many explorers die there each year?” He lectures.

“Why do you think I’m here?” You retort.

Muttering under his breath, Jake finds what he’s looking for and meets your unyielding gaze. “I’m not saying he’ll do it, but if you have a chance with anyone, it’s Rogers.”

You grab the small piece of paper Jake holds out to you, but his tight grip stops you from taking it.

“He won’t be cheap.” Jake warns.

“Of course.”

A few seconds pass before he relinquishes the paper to you.

Smiling sweetly, you pocket it. “Thank you Jake.”

Huffing, he gestures to the door. “Go.”

Your smile grows at his exasperated demand - which you quickly obey.

Jake’s voice calls out behind you just as you open his office door.

“Don’t tell Rogers what you’re looking for!”

[PRESENT]

Releasing your hand, Steve pushes up from the bar stool.

You have to tilt your head up and up as you watch him reach his full height.

“That was awfully nice of him.” Steve states dryly, his attention returning to the football game occuring on the television. “You didn’t say why you wanted to go into the jungle.”

Right.

“Well, I’m an -”

A low whistle interrupts you, drawing both your and Steve’s attention.

“Maxwell.” You greet the approaching man, smiling through gritted teeth.

Ignoring you, Max looks Steve up and down before announcing “Perfect, you’re just the kind of brute we need.”

He’s not wrong. Steve Rogers is built like a brick shithouse and most definitely suited for the task at hand.

Stopping beside you, Max extends his hand. “You must be Steve Rogers, I’m Max.”

Giving a small nod, Steve shakes his hand before aptly reminding you both “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

You keep your lie brief.

“As I was saying, we’re here to study specific sections of the Amazon rainforest for a thesis I’m working on.”

Throwing an arm around your shoulders, Max helpfully - and truthfully, adds “She’s an archaeologist.”

Steve studies you both, his face expressionless.

Your stomach drops.

He doesn’t believe us.

“You’re treasure hunters.” Steve declares, confirming your fear.

“Actually, we’re explorers.”

Continuing on like you hadn’t spoken, Steve says “And I’m guessing you’re after the treasure of Llanganates.”

“Good guess.”

Sighing at Max's admission, you try again “We’re -”

“Listen,” Steve cuts off. “The jungle and mountain ranges here are no joke, and I’m not risking my life just so you two can come to the same conclusion as every other schmuck that’s gone looking for that treasure, which is that it doesn’t exist.”

Your jaw drops at his words. “I’m no schmuck Mr. Rogers and just because you don't -”

“We’ll pay you well.” Max intervenes, shooting you a wary glance as you glare up at the large man.

Steve places his hands on his hips, his attention still on you while you bite your tongue.

You swear his lips twitch with a smirk.

Asshole.

“How much?” Steve eventually asks, turning his head to Max.

“How much do you want?” Max grins.

Silence falls as Steve mulls over the question.

“Five thousand a day.”

Your jaw drops again. “No way!”

“Done.”

Baffled, you gape at Max. “That’s an insane amount.”

Lifting his arm from your shoulders, he shrugs “This is an insane trip.”

All you can do is stare as Max holds his hand out to Steve once more, stipulating “Five thousand a day for you to take us exactly where we want to go and to keep us from dying horrible deaths.”

Nodding, Steve shakes his hand. “Deal.”

You should feel ecstatic.

“Well then, when do we leave?” Max asks, “We’re currently staying at the Tesoro Inn.”

“First I need to know where we’re going.”

Both men turn to look at you.

Reaching into your jean pocket reluctantly, you pull out the map you outlined the beginning of your expedition on and hand it over to Steve.

Unfolding it, he studies the red line. “It’s incomplete.”

Of course, genius.

“You can see the rest when you get us that far.” Arms crossed, you raise your eyebrows, all but daring him to argue back.

Steve regards you from behind his sunglasses before stating “We’ll meet in front of the inn tomorrow morning at five thirty.” As an afterthought he adds “Make sure you pack light.”

You can’t prove it of course, but you just know he’s directing that last comment at you.

Narrowing your eyes, you’re dragged away by Max before you can utter a scathing response.

Steve’s mouth twitches again.

[THE NEXT DAY]

You stand outside the inn, watching as the sun begins to peek above the horizon.

“So he’s an ass and terrible at keeping time.” You announce in a cheery tone.

Max groans, taking a sip of his coffee.

I suppose after last night he’s probably had enough of me ranting about Steve Rogers.

“Darling, please, just ignore his personality and focus on his good looks.”

You scoff loudly.

“Oh, don’t even try.” Max laughs, “I know how much of a sucker you are for big arms and hands.”

Whatever.

A voice you unfortunately recognise calls out, “Good morning.”

Looking over your shoulder at Steve’s approaching figure, you use the barrier of your sunglasses to properly appraise him for the first time.

Steve’s tall and built, that much you had observed yesterday afternoon.

His hair is dark blond and long, the ends of it curling against the collar of his shirt while some strands fall around his face and over his still present sunglasses. The beard he has is thick and you’ll forcibly admit it’s the best you’ve ever seen.

You weren’t typically one for beards, but he made it work.

Similar to yesterday, Steve wears a long sleeved shirt that’s rolled up to his elbows and khaki military pants held up by a brown belt. Over one shoulder he carries a backpack while a duffel bag hangs from his left hand.

“Mr. Rogers,” You greet with a faux smile. “How nice of you to finally join us.”

Steve grins, coming to a stop in front of you. “Retract those claws kitten, I had to secure our ride.”

As if on cue, the loud rumble of an engine cuts through the peaceful morning air as an old pickup truck comes coasting around the corner, pulling up before you all.

“This must be the new Bentley model,” Max quips good-naturedly.

The older man hanging out of the driver’s window gives a rough laugh. “Ah, un comediante.”

“Solo medio tiempo.” Max retorts, earning another laugh.

Chucking his bags into the bed of the pickup, Steve grabs yours and Max’s off the ground and adds them to the pile. Twisting back to you, Steve extends a hand for the satchel slung across your body.

You shake your head, grasping tightly at the brown leather strap.

He raises an eyebrow but makes no further comment, instead gesturing to the bed of the pickup. “Alright you two, hop in.”

While you and Max climb into the back, Steve rounds the pickup and gets in the passenger side.

Max knocks twice on the back of the cab once you’re both seated and the pickup rolls forward with a loud bang, rocking the two of you sideways.

Resting a heavy arm around your shoulders for stability as you each sway with the motion of the pickup on the dirt road, Max states “I love riding in the bed of trucks, reminds me of -”

“Arizona.” You finish with a soft smile.

“Yep,” Max pops the p. “Where we found nothing but rock.”

“And got burnt to a crisp for our efforts.” You recall, looking up at him as he laughs.

“Let’s pray this expedition proves more fruitful.”

“It will.” You answer without a second thought, clutching your satchel again. “This time is different.”

Arizona had been a spur of the moment idea, something to do for fun and experience - nothing more. There’d been no prior research, no maps, no coordinates.

Humming, Max leans forward and grabs the rolled up sleeping bag from his backpack, placing it between the cab and his head before closing his eyes. “Tell me about it again.”

Settling against his chest, you recite the story you know by heart.

“In 1532, Spanish conquistadores captured an Inca Emperor named Atahualpa who promised them a room full of gold and twice as much silver in exchange for his life. The conquistadores agreed and soon treasures from across the region were being brought to them. However, the conquistadores’ fear of a re-energised Inca military led them to kill the Emperor before the ransom was fulfilled.”

“An Inca General named Rumiñahui had been en route with an enormous amount of treasure for the Emperor’s ransom when he learnt that Atahualpa had been killed. In response, Rumiñahui ordered his men to take the ransom into the uninhabited land of Llanganates and hide it.”

"Rumiñahui continued to haul even more gold, silver, jewels, and Inca artefacts to hide in Llanganates until he was captured by the Spanish. They tortured him for the treasure’s location, but he refused to tell them.”

“He’s a better man than me,” Max mumbles.

“In 1603, a Spaniard named Valverde married an Inca woman and claimed that her family showed him the treasure. Before his death, he wrote out the treasure’s location and even drew a map to guide others to it.”

“People have used and improved Valverde’s map for centuries trying to find the treasure, and the last person to have claimed finding it was Barth Blake in 1886. In a letter he detailed his discovery of gold, silver, emeralds, and other treasures, and stated that he, nor a thousand men could remove all that he had found.”

“So in over a century no-one has claimed to have found even a piece of the treasure?” Max questions, opening his eyes and looking down at you.

Lifting your head from his chest, you shake it. “Plenty have tried. A man named Mark Honigsbaum wrote a book in 2004 about his attempt. He concluded that either the Incans retrieved the treasure centuries ago or it’s been lost forever in the mountains.”

“You believe it’s still in the mountains, right?”

“Yes, in its original hiding spot, just not where it’s marked on Valverde’s map.”

Max huffs, “Why can’t they just say ‘go to this place, here’s the treasure, spend it wisely’?”

You chuckle, but both you and Max know you don’t - can’t agree with his sentiment.

Finding the location of this treasure has been your sole purpose for years. You’ve lived and breathed this lost piece of history for so long that you almost felt a part of it.

To be able to find something that you couldn’t simply be given a map to was everything to you. You’ve earned the coordinates sitting in your satchel through your own hard work and time - so much time. 

Succeeding at this would be your life’s greatest achievement.

As well as your greatest honour. The artefacts, like tiles from the Temple of the Sun, stowed away with that gold and silver were invaluable pieces of lost Inca culture that deserved to be returned to the people and shared with the world.

“How much is it all worth?” Max asks with a whimsical smile.

Sighing, you give him the answer he already knows, but just likes hearing. “Thirty-seven billion dollars, at least. However its historical significance is priceless."

Max squeezes his arm around your shoulders, pulling you even further into his side. "Well seeing how you’re in it for the history, I guess you’ll have no qualms with me taking ninety percent.”

“Ninety?” You repeat, shocked. “That’s generous of you, I expected you to take at least ninety-nine.”

Pressing his mouth to the top of your head with a loud smack, Max states “You underestimate my love for you.”

[SOME HOURS LATER]

“Looks like we’ve reached the end of the road.” Max announces once the pickup has slowed to a stop.

You wouldn’t exactly call what you’ve been driving on for the past few hours ‘road’.

A door creaks open before being slammed shut.

“Alright kids,” Steve appears to your right, reaching for the bags. “This is our stop.”

Your legs wobble when you stand and your ass is completely numb from sitting so long.

Gingerly, you lower yourself out of the back of the pickup and walk over to Steve, Max ambling behind you.

Collecting your backpack off the ground, you straighten up as the pickup rolls forward with its signature loud bang and makes a u-turn.

“Buena suerte!” The driver calls out as he passes, raising a hand.

“Gracias!” You and Max return, waving back.

Sliding your sunglasses up onto your head, you turn around to face the famed Amazon rainforest and take a deep breath.

This is it.

“Please, after you.” Max smiles at Steve, sweeping his arm out towards the mass of green.

Dutifully, Steve pulls out a machete from the holder around his thigh and steps forward into the awaiting wilderness.

[SOME HOURS LATER]

The first few hours of the trek are completed in silence.

You listen to the soundtrack of the Amazon, admiring the nature around you while getting tripped up by it more often than not.

It’s thick - and humbling.

There are trees that stretch up so high they must almost touch the sky, and their trunks are so wide that you can see nothing else when standing in front of them.

Unfortunately, none of it can distract you from the heat.

The humidity is like nothing you’ve ever experienced and the sun isn’t even at its highest point yet - not that you can see it.

You removed your long sleeved shirt a while ago, stuffing it into your backpack with your sunglasses. This left you in a dark green tank top and brown hiking pants.

“We’ll take a break here.” Steve declares, breaking the long silence.

Pushing your backpack off your shoulders, you take a seat on it and pull out your water bottle, taking a greedy gulp.

“I miss the truck.” Max sighs forlornly, collapsing beside you.

His skin is shiny with sweat, just like yours.

You pat his back sympathetically.

“I thought you were looking for the treasure of Llanganates.” Steve says suddenly, sitting on a fallen tree across from the two of you.

You think it’s a question, but his tone makes it sound like a statement.

He likes doing that.

“We are.” You retort.

“Your map doesn’t follow Valverde’s.”

Surprised, your eyebrows rise. “You’re familiar with Valverde’s map?”

“Do you really think you two are the first I’ve taken on this wild goose chase?”

Raising your chin defiantly, you assert “We’ll be the first to find it.”

Steve smiles at your confidence. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see kitten, but I’ll keep my bet on you going home empty-handed.”

“Oh, I like a good bet, what are we waging?” Max pipes in.

You roll your eyes while Steve’s sunglasses continue to hide his.

After a moment your guide decides “If we find the treasure, my services will be rendered free.”

Max scoffs a laugh “How kind, and what percentage of the treasure will you be asking for?”

Steve smirks, “Nothing absurd, just one percent.”

Which would only work out to about three hundred and seventy million dollars.

Yeah, nothing absurd.

To Max, it’s a bargain.

“I knew I liked you for a reason." He grins, picking himself up and walking over to Steve to shake on their bet.

“When we find the treasure we will be donating it.” You deadpan.

“Ignore her.” Resting his hands on his hips, Max says “She doesn’t understand greed like the rest of us simpletons.”

Steve hums in agreement, “You’ve got finder’s fee written all over you kitten.”

“Would you not call me that?” You glare.

His mouth twitches.

“I thought it was fitting.” Max mumbles from where he stands.

“And yes Mr. Rogers, we will be donating the treasure and accepting whatever finder’s fee we’re offered.”

Standing up, you place your backpack on, deciding for the group that the rest period is over.

As you stride away, you hear Max mutter to Steve “Don’t worry, we can fill our bags with goodies before the museum stiffs show up.”

[THAT NIGHT]

You sit in front of the small campfire Steve built earlier as a light source.

Heat isn’t something you’re in short supply of.

Max is lying in his sleeping bag on the ground beside you while Steve sits across from you both, on the other side of the fire.

He’s finally removed his sunglasses, but the night hides Steve’s eyes just as well as his shades. Instead of colour, all you see in his eyes is the reflection of the flickering flames between you.

“I was thinking -”

“Uh-oh.”

“Shut up.” Max sighs, lifting his hand to slap your closest arm. “I was thinking about what you said about that Blake guy, the one who wrote the letter saying he found the treasure.”

“Hmm?” You prompt.

“Well, it sounded like he really found it, so why didn’t he take it?”

“Blake took what he could carry, planning on -”

“Returning with more men and supplies to retrieve the rest, but on his way to New York from Ecuador he disappeared overboard. Most believe he was deliberately pushed to keep the treasure safe.”

Your head snaps towards Steve and he smirks at your reaction.

“Once again, not my first goose chase kitten.”

You’re about to tell him once again not to call you that, but Max speaks first, clearly trying to avoid another back and forth.

“What’s your deal anyway? How’d you end up in this hot ass country?”

Steve’s smirk fades as he shrugs, his expression hardening.

You side-eye Max.

Good one idiot.

“There’s not much to it.” Steve states. “I used to be in the military, now I’m not. Now I choose what jobs I do, which is usually anything that pays well.”

The fire crackles.

“What about you two?” Steve retorts. “Rich kids with nothing better to do? I can’t tell if you’re related or dating -”

“Ew.” You groan, pulling a face.

“We are not related, nor are we dating.” Max informs.

“And he’s the rich kid.” You add, gesturing down at Max.

“Yep, she just mooches off of me and I mooch off my dad.”

That earns a chuckle from Steve.

“His dad is the director of one of the most respected museums in the world.” You elaborate. “I interned there while completing my degree, which is how we met.”

It’s hard to believe that was almost three years ago. When you first met Max you certainly had no idea how important he’d become in your life.

You’ll never forget the first thing he ever said to you.

“So, do you consciously dress yourself like Rachel Weisz in ‘The Mummy’ or is that just an odd coincidence?”

[THE NEXT DAY]

“I take back my complaints about the jungle.” Max mutters, observing the swamp.

Midday has just passed and so has the first and shortest section of your expedition - the rainforest.

Now the wetland awaits you all. You estimate that it’ll take roughly three days to get through.

Three days of mud, stench, and the feeling of being constantly wet.

“Staring at it isn’t gonna get us through it any faster.” Steve asserts, taking the first step into the green water.

Everyone has tucked the ends of their pants into their thick socks to try and limit as much contact with the water as possible.

You follow after Steve, Max trailing behind you with a reluctant sigh.

It’s slow-going, trying to avoid branches and rocks hidden beneath the water’s surface that Steve finds with the long stick in his hand. The same stick he uses to avoid deceivingly deep puddles.

However, you soon miss the relative easiness of trekking through the water once you’ve reached the mud.

Loud suction sounds are all that can be heard as the three of you trudge through the mud that swallows your feet and then some with every step, a dark line on your pants indicating the highest it’s reached - halfway up your calves.

It takes all of your strength to free yourself, just so you can do it all over again.

“My legs are going to be ripped after this.” Max pants.

You can only huff a breath in response, too focused on pulling your feet from the mud. The suction is so strong you’re worried you might lose a boot - or two.

It also doesn’t help that your backpack feels like it’s full of bricks.

“Oh thank god, solid ground.” Max announces gratefully.

You look up - not to see if he’s telling the truth, but to see why he sounds so far away.

Wasn’t he just beside me?

“Shit.” You mutter to yourself.

Both men have made better progress than you. Max has spotted the solid ground because Steve now stands on it.

Staring back down at your engulfed feet, you grit your teeth and use every bit of strength you have left to try and quicken your pace. Every hour of daylight was precious and there wasn’t much left of today’s.

Maybe it’s their longer legs or strength - Max isn’t that much stronger than me, or maybe their backpacks simply don’t weigh a million tonnes -

God my legs are burning.

Then suddenly, it’s like a weight is lifted.

Because it is.

Your backpack is pulled from your shoulders before Steve places it over his own, his bags deserted on the hard ground ahead.

“Oh.” You squeak, startled by his presence. “Uh, thank you - wait, what - put me down!” You demand as you’re lifted from the mud with an echoing pop.

Steve’s hands grasp your hips as he pulls you out with what seems to be little effort, his arms bulging with the action. Then you’re upside down, thrown over one of his broad shoulders.

“Are you a caveman? You can’t just manhandle me!” You protest, affronted.

You brace your hands on his lower back, trying to hold yourself up so your face doesn’t bump into his back.

Is he just all muscle?

He’s rock solid underneath your hands.

Steve chuckles, “I just did kitten.”

“Would you -”

“Time is valuable out here, we can’t wait around for you to finish playing in the mud.”

Glaring at the mud beneath you, you insist “Put me down or I’ll fire you.”

It’s a very weak threat since you and Max kind of need him, but it’s all you’ve got.

Also… maybe you kind of don’t want him to put you down. 

Maybe.

Another chuckle. “You didn’t hire me, nor are you the one paying me.”

“You know what -”

“Quit whining!” Max calls out, sounding close. “I told him to go get you, I want out of here.”

“See? I’m just doing what the boss asked.”

“How noble of you Mr. Rogers.” You mumble.

“Well it’s a nice change of scenery kitten.”

It takes a moment for you to understand his meaning, but it’s obvious when you do, your sharp inhale of air audible as you open your mouth to tell him to go -

You squeak again as you’re abruptly dropped onto your feet.

“And stop with the Mr. Rogers talk.” Steve says, shrugging off your backpack and hooking it over your left shoulder before you can snatch it from him.

Dropping his head so that he’s looking into your eyes - his are still hidden behind those damn sunglasses, Steve purrs “But if you insist on being so formal, sir will do just fine.”

Your mouth falls open and Steve moves out of the way with a chuckle when you attempt to swing your backpack at him.

The absolute -

Max appears beside you and grabs your arm lightly, urging you forward as Steve continues trekking ahead.

“Please remember we need him alive.” Max implores.

[THAT NIGHT]

“Now will you admit to me that he’s hot?”

“Shut up.” You snap at Max, shooting him a glare.

“Just look at his -”

Covering his mouth with your hand, you raise your eyebrows in warning.

You’re sitting on a log in front of the campfire not admiring Steve in the distance, illuminated by the torch on the ground beside him as he changes shirts for the night and -

Max snorts against your hand, making you drop it as your gaze quickly shifts to the fire while Steve changes into a different pair of pants.

Can’t he do that somewhere more private?

“Oh darling, you’d love his thighs, have a look -”

“Would you shut up?” You hiss.

“Too bad it’s dark,” Max carries on. “I can’t really see what his underwear is hiding - ow!”

Whack. “Shut.” Whack. “Up.” Whack.

“Alright, alright.” He surrenders, rubbing his arm. “Jesus, you’re in one of your violent moods today.” 

Then, as if he can’t resist - because he can’t, Max smirks “Unlike Harry, I bet he’d actually know how to -”

“Oh my god -”

“Who’s Harry?”

You jump at the sound of Steve’s voice and your hand freezes midair, interrupted on its way to hit Max again.

“No one.”

“Her ex.”

I will murder you before sunrise - that’s what the look you direct at Max promises.

Steve hums, taking a seat on the other side of the fire. “And what didn’t he know how to do?”

His smirk tells you he’s already assumed.

I want to die.

No.

I want them to die.

“Cook.” You declare, glaring at him. “He didn’t know how to cook.”

“Was terrible at it,” Max reinforces with a sad tone.

You have to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“That’s a shame.” Steve states in his deep voice, a hint of laughter detectable in it. “Every man should know how to cook.”

“I wouldn’t call him much of a man.” Max inputs.

Fucking hell.

The comment is probably a little harsh, but Max is your best friend.

Harry had been your first and last attempt at a relationship. He’d been nice enough but… well, that was it really. Just nice, tolerable… passionless. You’d stick to the fictional men in your romance novels.

“Can you cook Steve?” Max asks, as casual as ever.

You turn to him with wide eyes.

“I’m a great cook.” You can clearly hear the laughter in Steve’s voice now.

“Of course you’d think that.” You jab, looking from Max to him.

Steve meets your irritated gaze over the fire with a smirk. “I’ve never had any complaints.”

“Well,” You shrug, biting back “Doesn’t mean they walked away satisfied.”

“I wouldn’t say they walked.”

Max chortles next to you, choking on his own spit while heat floods your face and neck.

“Okay.” Standing abruptly, you state “I’m going to bed.”

Their laughter follows you all the way to your sleeping bag.

[TWO DAYS LATER]

“I smell so bad.”

“I’m glad you said it.”

“Oh, because you smell so much better.” You mock, eyeing Max.

The wetland has been punishing. You’re covered in mud, bug bites, and drenched in your own sweat - not to mention every part of your body aches. It’s unpleasant, to say the least.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you decide to tell Max some more historical fun facts. 

Well, they’re fun to you.

“You know, Valverde drew the map to the treasure before his death because he wanted to give it as a gift to the King of Spain.” You begin, “The King sent out an expedition to find the treasure but -”

“They were unsuccessful - obviously, and the friar that was accompanying them died in a swamp.” Steve gazes around, “Possibly this one.”

You purse your lips at his interruption, but can’t find it within yourself to be annoyed.

“Also,” You try again, addressing Max. “The Spanish conquistadors would constantly dig up large quantities of platinum while searching for gold and while we know platinum to be more valuable than gold -”

“They dismissed it as junk because being so rare, they didn’t know what it was. All they knew was that it wasn’t gold, so they would dump it as scrap.” Steve concludes, his shade covered eyes looking over at you.

“They threw away one of the rarest and most precious metals on Earth because their lust for gold, something that only had value because they gave it value, blinded them to the true, unique treasure right in front of them.”

It feels like the air has been knocked out of your lungs.

Forcing a huff, you feebly respond “Would you stop that?”

“Stop what?” Steve smirks.

That damn, all-knowing smirk.

“Knowing… things.”

Wow, good one. You really got him.

Steve’s smirk widens into a grin. “Why kitten? You like it when I talk smart?”

Yes, it makes me want to climb you like a tree.

“No, I just prefer not being interrupted.”

“Someone please correct me if I’m wrong.” Max pipes up, “But is this hellhole about to end?”

You gaze ahead and see that Max hasn’t gone mad. The wetland is indeed about to end.

“We’ll set up camp on the outskirts of the swamp.” Steve directs, glancing at his watch. “Tomorrow we’ll head into the grasslands, there’s a lake on our path that we should reach by the afternoon.”

[THE NEXT AFTERNOON]

“It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Max sighs lovingly, admiring the lake. “I dibs using it first.”

You shrug, “Whatever.”

After three days covered in filth, what harm could waiting an hour or so longer do?

Besides, you wanted to take your sweet, sweet time.

Leaving Max at the lake, you and Steve trek up over a small hill beside it. There’s a few trees here, but they’re slim and spaced out, unlike in the rainforest.

Steve selects a spot at the bottom of the hill to set up camp, giving anyone using the lake some privacy.

Max wanders down a little while later, after everything has been set up and a small fire is burning steadily.

You tell Steve he can go next and he’s quick to rise.

It feels like you wait an eternity, but you know it’s just your eagerness to be clean that drags the time out.

The moment you spot Steve coming over the hill you’re on your feet, heading for the lake.

At the lakeside you remove your clothes, leaving your bra and underwear on. You soak your clothes first, scrubbing them clean before laying them out over the rocks around the lake to soak up the afternoon sun.

Finally, you delve into the lake’s cool waters.

You don’t rush, taking the time to rub every part of yourself spotless. Afterwards you lie on your back and float around the lake.

When your face starts to feel too hot from the sun, you submerge yourself underneath the water and hold your breath for as long as you can before coming back up.

Breaking the surface of the water, you keep your eyes shut while you run a hand over your face, removing the excess water.

When you open them again, you flinch.

“Do you mind?” You all but shriek at Steve who’s sitting on a large boulder at the lakeside, watching you.

He smirks, “Not at all.”

Glaring at him, you hiss “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

One of these days I’m going to kill him.

Swimming up to the edge of the lake, you keep everything below your neck underwater.

“Well, pass me my towel.” You snap.

Steve raises an eyebrow and it’s only then that you realise he’s not wearing his sunglasses.

Blue.

His eyes are blue.

You’re too far away to see any great detail though.

Steve raises his other eyebrow, bringing you back to reality and making your teeth grind.

“Please.”

Leisurely, Steve reaches for your towel behind him on the boulder and holds it out to you, as far as his arm will extend.

“Are you serious?” You ask, exasperated.

He shrugs, “I’m afraid it’s the best I can do kitten.”

Groaning, you bite out “Fine, close your eyes.”

A moment passes before he eventually does as you demanded, his eyes shutting.

“No peeking.” You enforce, squinting at him.

When you’re certain he can’t see anything, you rise out of the water and quickly approach him.

The second your hand grips the towel Steve tugs on it, sending you toppling onto him.

You fall face first into his solid chest while your hands scramble for purchase to push yourself back.

“What are you -”

The words die in your throat when you feel his warm, rough hands grasp your waist and spin you around, bringing you down to sit on his lap.

“Let me help you.” Steve husks into your ear, his beard pleasantly scratching at your skin. 

His right hand presses against your bare stomach, holding you in place while his other hand picks up your towel again, swiping it over your left arm.

You open your mouth to object, but then his right hand is gliding up your wet skin to lightly wrap around your neck, tilting your head backwards so he can move the towel over your chest.

Any fight you might have had leaves your body in a giant whoosh, his touch turning you to jelly.

“There you go,” Steve coo’s. “It’s not healthy to always be so tense kitten.”

Fuck you.

That’s what you want to tell him, but instead you whimper as he suddenly drags the towel down and over your underwear.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Since you pleasured yourself? Yes. Since you had a man touch you? Even more of a yes.

But he hadn’t made you feel anything close to this.

“That’s okay.” Steve whispers, as if you had answered. “I’ll take care of you, it’s what I’m getting paid for.”

Abandoning the towel, his fingers dip behind the band of your underwear and you’re almost panting in excitement.

He’s so… big around you, caging you in and overriding your senses.

“Poor kitten,” Steve teases, dragging two of his fingers along your slick folds. “Just dripping for me, huh?”

You want to punch him so badly you -

“Oh.” You can’t help but moan as his thumb presses on your clit, lightly circling it.

Instinctively, your thighs squeeze together and both of your hands wrap around his wrist to stop the action.

You’re embarrassed by how sensitive you are.

It has been a while.

Steve hushes you, “I know, I know.” Using his left hand to pry your thighs apart, he begins circling your clit again. “Just relax, I got you.”

His words seem to have a pull over you, as your body instantly relaxes in his hold.

With your body pliant, Steve’s fingers dip down further and slowly push into you - first one, then two.

Your hips eagerly lift to meet his hand.

“Good girl, fuck yourself on my fingers.” The vulgar sentence sets your face on fire while also making you clench around his digits with a gasp.

How the hell does he know just what to say? 

It’s like he’s read one of your books.

Steve’s fingers start to push into you faster and a bit rougher as his thumb continues circling your clit.

Your stomach tenses, the coil within you already about to snap and god you want it, you want it so bad, so, so bad -

“Please.” You mumble, not recognising your own voice. It’s so airy and desperate. “Please let me come.”

Steve releases a guttural groan beside your ear, the sound rumbling against your back while his arousal pokes at your ass.

His thumb quickens on your clit as his fingers keep pumping into you, nudging just a bit more before -

You moan loudly when he hits the sweet spot inside you.

Steve’s warm breath tickles your cheek. “Come for me baby, make a mess on my fingers.”

Crying out, you whine Steve’s name as your orgasm collides with you.

It’s like the blood in your veins is replaced with fire, your body intoxicatingly hot as you jerk in Steve’s hold, riding out your high on his still moving fingers.

Steve’s murmuring in your ear, but it’s all white noise as you come back to yourself.

“Fuck.” You whisper when you feel a little less lightheaded.

Removing his hand from beneath your underwear, Steve raises his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. You watch him, mouth slightly ajar.

“How was that kitten? Was it good?” Steve asks once he’s finished, his blue eyes shining down at you.

They’re a light blue - baby blue. At first you think they’re pure blue, but then you see just a flicker of green within them. Somehow it makes them even prettier.

It’s a shame he’s always hiding them away.

“Very.” You breathe out honestly, your mind still muddled.

Steve grins and lowers to brush his mouth over your cheek, the feeling of his beard making you shiver. “The chef appreciates your compliment.” He teases.

Drawing the connection back to that night days before brings you out of your orgasm-induced stupor and kicks your brain into gear.

What the hell did I just do?

Pulling yourself from Steve, you stand - your thighs still shaking a little, and snatch your towel off the ground. Wrapping it around yourself, you collect your clothes from the nearby rocks.

When you turn back you find Steve still sitting in the exact same spot, contently watching you with a lazy smirk, like nothing’s out of the ordinary - like there isn’t a large tent in his pants.

Your core throbs at the sight and you quickly look away.

Marching past him, you don’t respond when Steve calls out “I’ll be up soon kitten, I just gotta wash some of my clothes.”

The smile in his tone is obvious.

Heading for camp, you try to process what just happened.

Did I really just let Steve finger me?

“Oh god, Max.” You groan, dreading his reaction.

Just act natural, he won’t know if -

“Hello there, you took your - wait.” His eyes narrow.

To avoid looking at him you begin drying yourself and re-dressing.

“What?” You ask, trying to sound casual.

Max strides over to you and grabs your chin, forcing you to face him.

“No. Way.”

How the hell -

“Did you fuck Steve?” Max whisper-shouts, his brown eyes wide with excitement.

“No!” You respond in the same tone.

“Then what -”

Gesturing for him to be quiet, you check your surroundings before answering “Look, he just… gave me a helping hand, alright?”

It was less painful to just tell him, otherwise he’d never drop the subject.

“Did he ask for a helping hand back?”

So damn nosy.

“No.” You sigh, exasperated.

Max grins, “I knew he’d be good to you.”

Squinting at him, you retort “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Waving you off, he sits back down by the fire. “Was he good at it?”

Looking over your shoulder again to make sure Steve hadn’t snuck up, you quickly answer “He was great at it, now can we please forget this ever happened?”

Max lets out a chuckle while you finish zipping up your pants. “Good luck with that darling, you can’t exactly avoid him out here.”

Fuck.

What were you thinking?

You were supposed to be searching for lost treasure - the find of the century, not getting some from your guide who you literally cannot escape from until this is all over.

A guide who is going to be unbearable after this, as if he isn’t already.

Dropping your head into your hands, you let out a pained whine.

You clear your throat and cough a little before speaking up. “Yeah,” you sigh, “It’s just us going right?” Yuki nods and turns around, bending in front of you as she picks up her binki bottom and shorts. “Yeah, just us.” She replies and looks back at you, seeing the drool accidentally spill out. Just the way she loves it.

It’s so mean, and she knows it. You tried to think nothing of it when you started getting ready.

Yuki, on the other hand, giggles to herself, knowing you’re going to struggle the entire day. First it was her hand on your hips as you brushed your teeth, and each time you leaned down to spit, Yuki would smack your ass and grip it. Then her left hand would drag down your spine as her lips would follow.

When driving to the beach, she would rest her hand on your thigh, leaving it there for a while to trick you into thinking it was nothing.

Yuki slowly dragged her hand up to your stomach and up to your right breast; her fingers would grip your boob and begin massaging it.

You whimpered and looked to the window, hating the way Yuki had that stupid smirk plastered on her face. “There’s my good girl.” She rasps. You let her touch you, feeling the way her fingers move back down on your shirt and to your shorts. Unbuttoning it easily, she leaves her hand resting on your crotch, not even bothering to push your bikini bottom against your shorts to actually feel your clit.

Making it to the beach, you could’ve sworn Yuki would be done with whatever she was doing. She teased you enough in the car to the point she pulled moans from you, all because she rubbed your nipples and called you her baby.

As the two of you set up at the area you found, you watch the way Yuki flexes her biceps for you, grabbing the attention of other women. She doesn’t pay them any attention because yours is the only important one, and it keeps going. “Come on baby, let me give you a massage, you’ve been doing so much recently.” She begs; you can see the twinkle in her eyes, but you listen, because she is right, you’ve been doing a lot nowadays.

Yuki sits on the towel, legs stretched out and open for you to sit in between. “You’re not sneaky.” You comment, Yuki smiles, and bites her bottom lip as she watches you take your top off and shorts off, putting them on the side before sitting down and pressing your back against her chest.

“I’m not even doing anything?” She mutters, and you hum. Yuki then picks up the bottle of sunscreen and pours some in her hand. You shut your eyes and lick your lips as the sounds of waves crashing and people interacting make you calm.

Yuki starts with rubbing your right arm, the warmth of the sunscreen and her hands mix. You sigh, then hum, “Oh baby, that feels so good.” You whisper, she smirks and bites her bottom lip as her pussy pulsates to your words. “Such a good girl, letting me make you feel better.” Yuki praises, you squirm as she leans down and feels her lips pucker against your cheek. Her thumb pushes into your skin as she pecks your skin, lips all down to your neck before switching to the left side like her hands.

“Feels good?” Yuki mumbles between kisses, you nod and whine, “Yeah, fuck, your hands feel good, baby.” She giggles and looks forward while whispering, “Careful, we’re in public.”

Yuki’s hands then travel up both sides of your shoulders and slide to your breasts, under your bikini top. Your eyes widen as you look around to make sure no one is watching. “Yuki!” You whisper-yell, earning another laugh from her. “Relax, I got you.” Then she swipes her thumb over your nipples, your back arches a little, and Yuki leans closer to you, making sure your skin sticks to hers.

“Yuki, what— hmm.” Cutting you off by leaning down and lapping her tongue against your shoulder blade before sucking on it slowly, you push your body into hers and sigh. “I hate you.” You mumble. Yuki chuckles and pulls her lips away. “Likewise.”

She doesn’t give you a chance to breathe, moving her hands down to your stomach and down to the middle of your crotch. You try to shut your legs, but Yuki’s left and right legs hook over your thighs, forcing you to keep them open as she rubs your folds over the cloth. You moan softly and rock your hips up to feel her better. “There she is.” Yuki coos, her lips brushing against your left ear as her index and middle finger tease over your folds and push your bikini in your pulsing hole a little.

“What do you need, pretty girl? Tell me what you need.” She lets out a moan with you, her eyes looking everywhere to keep you safe.

You press the back of your head against her shoulder and sigh. Opening your eyes, you stare up at the clouds. “Think we should go back to the car.” Yuki laughs at your request and nods. “And when we get back, what do you want? I can’t read your mind, baby.” She reminds you, and you tilt your head to look at her a little. “For you to stop teasing me and fuck me in the backseat.” You whisper and catch her earlobe between your teeth before letting go.

Yuki looks at you once you push her off and stand up. You lean forward in front of her, your ass in her face as you pick up your clothes. You stand straight and look down at her as you brush the sand off your clothes.

“Come on, we don’t have all day.” You state and pick your things up.

Yuki stares at you, stunned for a moment, and immediately stands up and helps you pack the stuff up. Trailing behind you like a lost puppy after having you be a puddle in her hands.

i really had this in my drafts collecting dust, what i am i doing. art made by cheeseboy382 on tumblr. also, yuki listens to young miko, that’s my other headcanon. alternative title: loser gets wet from feeling wanted by girlfriend.

taglist: @angel-stares @lonerslug @pinkfairylegobatman @beenathembo @requiemdesreves @alphabetically-deranged @h3avenlyglory

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You roll your eyes with a scoff. It is true that you usually spend your mornings in the grandstand, looking at all the knights training their physique for hours while you pretend to read a book. Although your eyes are always fixed on him, no one else. 

“Don’t call me that, you know I hate it.” You cross your arms, looking away from him with a pout. 

That makes him smile, his rough calloused hands touching your cheeks, gently turning your face towards him. “What do you want me to call you then.”

Heat floods your cheeks, he’s always so gentle, so caring with you that makes your knees weak. You’re thankful to whoever took the decision of assigning him as the guardian of your door every night, you’ve never felt so safe, being around him has you giggling and even feeling shy like a teenage girl. 

“I like when you call me dear…” you tell him, your eyelashes fluttering. “Or my love.”

That makes him smile as he nods, tenderly kissing your cheek before sitting beside you. “I’ll call you that from now on, dear.”

He deliberately stops before saying the petname, making you look away in shyness. “Don’t say it like that!”

Jonathan chuckles softly, his laugh filling the room and your heart. He pulls you closer until your breaths mix. “My love,” he whispers again, slower this time, a secret for the two of you.

No one else in this whole kingdom sees you like he does. Not as the spoiled princess with the sharp tongue, but as someone precious, someone worth protecting with every beat of his honest heart.

You adore him so much it almost hurts sometimes. He is your Jonathan, he’s always here listening to your complaints about court duties, he remembers how you like your tea and sneaks extra sweets from the kitchen to see you smile. The bond you created runs deeper than these nights, it's in the way he stands guard outside your door all day, never complaining, always ready to lay down his life if trouble comes. It’s in the quiet talks you share before the touching begins, where he tells you about his dreams of honor and you confess your fears of being trapped in this royal cage. He makes you feel seen. Truly seen. And in return, you trust him completely, letting him into the softest parts of your soul that no one else has ever touched.

His fingers trace down your arms, light as feathers, sending little shivers across your skin. 

“You are so beautiful tonight, my love,” he murmurs, his blue eyes locked on yours. 

The scar on his cheek catches the light, a reminder of battles he has fought for you and your family. Yet here he is, so soft with you, you are the only fragile thing in his strong world.

You try to keep your attitude, puffing out your cheeks a little. “Flattery will not get you everywhere, Sir Joestar.” 

But your voice wavers, and a grin tugs at his lips as he leans in, pressing a slow kiss to the corner of your mouth. That is when your resolve melts, you giggle despite yourself, the sound light and girlish, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I live to make you smile like that,” he says.

His hands slide to your waist again, pulling you into his lap with easy strength. You feel the solid warmth of his body under the fabric, the way his muscles tense just a little when you settle against him. There is desire there, yes, a sweet tension that hums between you in a shared heartbeat. But it’s more than that. So much more. With Jonathan, every touch feels like a promise. He worships you not just with hunger, but with devotion.

You part your legs slowly, letting the robe slip open and watch his eyes darken with want. His breath catches as he licks his lips without thinking. 

“May I?” he asks, always so respectful, even when his fingers are already brushing your thighs. You nod, because you trust him to take care of you. He never pushes, never takes more than you offer. Just his tongue and fingers, night after night, drawing out your pleasure like it is his greatest joy.

He lays you back gently on the pillows, his blue curls brushing your skin as he kisses a trail down your neck and your collarbone. When his mouth finally finds you, you arch with a soft moan. His fingers join soon after, curling just right, patient and knowing. Every stroke feels like love made real. You thread your hands through his hair, tugging lightly and he hums against you in response. The pleasure builds slowly and deep, wrapped in whispers of “my love” and “you are everything to me.”

In these moments, the world outside fades. It’s just you and your knight, bound by something pure and unbreakable. He makes you feel special, cherished, worth more than any crown. The attitude slips away completely as you come undone under his care, giggling breathlessly when he looks up at you afterward with adoring eyes, lips shiny and a little smile on his face.

“I love these nights with you,” he says, crawling up to hold you close, his arms strong and safe around your trembling body. “Thank you, for letting me taste you and take care of you.”

You cuddle into his chest, pressing a kiss over his heart. “I adore you, Jonathan. More than words can say.” And in the quiet palace, with him by your side, you know this bond will carry you through every tomorrow.

Another night came with the palace wrapped in heavy silence after midnight, Jonathan knocked three likes as usual, but when he slipped inside your room, his steps were heavier than usual. His broad shoulders slumped under the armor he started taking off with slow movements and his eyes were filled with tiredness. Your heart squeezed at the sight, but he still smiled for you though.

You kneeled on the edge of the bed, robe slipping off one shoulder and heart beating faster than normal. After seeing him like this, you had made up your mind. You wanted to give back, to make him feel as cherished as he always made you feel. After all the nights of his gentle touches and devoted kisses between your thighs, you craved to please him too.

“Jonathan,” you said softly, stepping close the moment he was down to his white shirt and pants. “You look so worn out tonight. Let me take care of you for once.” Your voice trembled with nervous excitement as you reached for him, fingers brushing his shoulders. “I really want to.”

His eyes widened, where you think it would be excitement or surprise, was fear. Before you could sink to yout knees like you planned, he caught your wrists gently, guiding your hands away. 

“My love, no. You do not have to give me anything,” he whispered firmly. He pulled you into a hug instead, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I am here to serve you. Your pleasure is mine and that is enough.”

You were not going to let it go so easily, you trusted him with everything and you wanted this closeness to go both ways. 

“But I want to,” you insisted, pressing closer, your body brushing against his. Your hand slipped down between his thighs, you blinked your thoughts away when you felt nothing, thinking that he might just be soft, in your defense, you’ve never touched a cock in your life. “Please, Jonathan. Let me make you feel good too.”

He reacted fast, swatting your hand away almost instinctively and stepping back. The sudden movement made your chest tighten. He even put space between you like your touch had burned him. 

Heat rushed to your face, a sudden anger bubbled up quick and sharp. “What is wrong with you?” you snapped, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “Do you not desire me at all? After everything we have shared, you push me away like that?” Your voice rose a little, the attitude you always carried flaring out. “If that is how it is, then you can just leave.”

Jonathan stood there for a moment, his pretty face filled with sadness that made your heart ache even through the frustration. Those round eyes looked so pained. 

“You do not have to throw a tantrum, dear,” he said quietly, but there was no scolding in it. He reached out like he wanted to touch your cheek one more time, but thought better of it and let his hand fall.

“I am not throwing a tantrum. If you don’t want me to touch you, you can leave, as I don’t want you to touch me right now.” You didn’t look at him as you say that, putting the robe tightly around yourself, covering you the best way you could.

He sighed but without another word, he gathered his armor and slipped out of your room. It felt dumb kicking him out of your room because his duty is to stay by your door the whole night, but you didn’t care at that moment. 

Jonathan sat down next to your doorknob, his heart twisting with guilt and longing. The secret he carried weighed on him more than ever tonight. In all these years, he thought about sharing it with you, showing his true self and identity. But your reaction terrified him. Jonathan Joestar was not the man everyone believed him to be, behind the armor and the short blue curls there was a different person, pretending every single day to fit into this role that let her stay close to you. The love and adoration he has for you goes beyond everything, and tonight, the fear had pushed you away, making him feel terribly guilty. 

When he felt hopeful, he thought that the bond you shared was strong enough to survive when the truth finally came out, when he stops being a fucking coward and shows you his naked body. But right now, his mind was filled by the fake image of you looking disgusted and creeped by him, and he couldn’t get it out of his head.

Later that night, or rather early morning, the glow of dawn was just starting to creep through the tall windows when you could not take the emptiness anymore. Your bed felt too big and too cold without him. You slipped out of the covers, still in your robe, and cracked open the door.

There he was. Jonathan, standing guard like always, even at five in the morning. His armor caught the faint light, but his eyes looked heavy with exhaustion and that same sadness from earlier. He had not left you.

You felt your heart melt and break at the same time. “Jonathan… come in,” you whispered, reaching for his hand. “Please. Rest with me. I did not mean it, telling you to leave.”

He hesitated only a second before stepping inside, closing the door quietly behind him. You led him to the bed and made him sit down, your fingers brushing his cheek the way he always did to you. 

After a long quiet moment, you asked gently, “Do you have some sort of insecurity with your body? Is that why you pushed me away?”

Jonathan looked down at his hands, those calloused fingers that had brought you so much pleasure and comfort. “You might call it that,” he said softly. “But it is more complicated than you think, my love.”

You crawled closer and cupped his face, making him meet your eyes. “Whatever it is, Jonathan, I am going to love you just as much as I love you right now. Nothing could change how safe you make me feel. You are the only one who truly sees me and I trust you completely.”

Those words seemed to reach deep inside him, maybe you can accept him, maybe you are so lost in your love that you don’t find him disgusting. After thinking for a while, his shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. He stood up slowly and started taking off his clothes. First the shirt, then the pants, until he stood there in just the bindings underneath. Your eyes widened when you saw the way his chest was wrapped tight with a band, the soft swell of breasts hidden beneath it. Between his thighs, the smooth lines of a woman’s body, still covered by simple undergarments.

Your first thought was concern. It looked so tight, so uncomfortable. “Does that hurt you?” you asked, you stood up and reached for the band carefully. “Let me help you take it off… if you will let me.”

He nodded, eyes a little shy but full of trust. You worked slowly, unwrapping the cloth with tender fingers. When it finally fell away, you could not help but admire how beautiful she looked, strong and soft all at once. Her skin was marked faintly from the binding, you were confident enough to lean in to press the lightest kisses there, soothing every inch. 

“You are so lovely,” you whispered between kisses. “So strong for carrying all of this.”

She let out a shaky breath, her blue curls falling softly around her face as you helped her onto the bed. Both of you shed the last pieces of clothing until you were completely naked together, skin to skin under the warm blankets. You pulled her close, your bodies fitting together in a new but perfect way. Your fingers traced her curves with the same care as always, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against yours.

You looked into her eyes and smiled softly. “Is this your insecurity? That you are a woman?”

She searched your face for any sign of rejection, but all she found was love and acceptance. A relieved smile touched her lips as she nodded. 

You moved slowly, shifting until you were on top of her, straddling her hips. Your hands rested on her shoulders as you took her in fully, she was covered in scars from battles and training, marks of strength that only made her more beautiful to you. Beneath them, the softness of a woman’s body, full curves and gentle slopes that send a warm rush through your own. Your cheeks flushed as you felt yourself getting excited just from being so close like this.

“You are stunning,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss a scar on her collarbone. “All of these scars show me how much you have fought to protect me. And this softness here,” your fingers traced lightly down her side to her waist, “it makes me so hot inside. I love how strong and gentle you are at the same time.”

She let out a quiet breath, her hands resting shyly on your thighs. You kept going, wanting her to feel as adored as she always made you feel. 

“Does it feel good when I touch you here?” you asked softly, brushing your palm over the swell of her breast. 

She nodded, eyes closed. “Yes… it does. No one has ever touched me like this.”

You smiled and kissed lower, praising every part of her. “Your skin is so warm and smooth. And these hips feel perfect under me.” 

Your fingers explored gently, learning her body with care. You’ve never explored a woman’s body before, but hers was the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. Every compliment made her relax more, she started to believe that you actually desire and want her just like that. 

After a while you sat up a little, still on top of her and brushed a blue curl from her face. “Should I keep calling you Jonathan? Or do you have another name you would rather I use when we are alone like this?”

She shook her head, her big eyes full of affection. “Jonathan is more than fine, my love. It is who I am with you.”

That answer made your heart flutter. You leaned down and kissed her deeply, pouring all your feelings into it. When you pulled back, breath a little quicker, you asked in a shy but eager voice, “Can I taste you now, Jonathan? I have wanted to for so long.”

She swallowed, cheeks turning pink, but nodded with a small smile. You slid down her body slowly, kissing along the way until you reached her lower stomach. There it was, a soft happy trail of blue hairs leading down to her beautiful pussy. The curls were a pretty shade of blue, matching the hair on her head, framing her in the most lovely way. She looked so pretty and inviting, already a little wet from your touches and words.

You parted her thighs gently and pressed a soft kiss right above her happy trail. “So beautiful,” you whispered, before leaning in to taste her at last. “Tell me if I do it wrong, please.”

Your tongue moved carefully at first, exploring her warmth and sweetness, and the little sounds she made filled the room with even more love and tension. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of you, closer than ever, hearts and bodies completely open to each other.

Jonathan gasped softly, her fingers threading through your hair. “Y-you’re doing good ah!,” she whispered, voice shaky. 

That only made you want to be even sweeter with her. You slowed down, taking your time to learn every little spot that made her hips twitch or her breath catch. Your tongue circled her clit softly, then dipped lower, tasting her deeply while your hands stroked her strong thighs. You listened to every sound, figuring out exactly what she liked best. When you found that perfect rhythm, sucking lightly and flicking your tongue just right, her legs started to tremble around you.

You kept going, pouring all your love into each lick and kiss. The trust between you felt so deep in this moment. She had given you everything, her body, her secret, her heart and now you were giving back with all the tenderness she deserved.

It did not take long before her body tensed up beautifully. She came with a quiet, broken moan, her fingers tightening in your hair as waves of pleasure washed over her. Tears slipped down her cheeks right after, not from sadness but from how overwhelming it all felt. You climbed back up quickly, kissing the tears away and pulling her into your arms.

“Shh, my love,” you cooed, holding her close while she cried softly against your shoulder. “I have got you.”

“I’m-I’m sorry,” she whispered between little sobs. “No one has ever bothered about me like you do.”

You hugged her tighter, your bodies tangled under the sheets. “You matter more than anything to me, Jonathan.” You kissed her forehead and then her wet cheeks. “You do not have to apologize for being vulnerable with him.”

In your arms, your strong yet soft knight finally let herself be completely loved, only by you.

a/n: this is one of my favorite things i've ever written omg show it some love

“Well forget I said that” you muttered, clearing your throat as you looked anywhere but at him. “We should finish this up quickly anyway, the bell would ring soon” you said, picking up the flask to shake the liquid which was blue, the same shade of his eye colour.

“Um, I don't–I don't know why you would say that but surely I don't hate you, I mean why would I, when you're so–” He stopped himself right there as if realising he was going to say something he shouldn't and gave a nervous, awkward laugh.

“Well anyways, you're right we should get finished with this, we have other classes to attend.” He continued rubbing the back of his neck, the tips of his ears red.

But you were not going to let him go that easily. You were what? What was he gonna say, if you didn't get to know it right now you would keep thinking about it later on and you didn't wanna think about him you already did enough.

“You were saying something right?” You said setting down the flask. “I am what, go on.” you said, raising your eyebrows, hands crossed over your chest, completely ready to hear something negative.

“Ah, haha…I meant that” he said, rubbing the back of his head, laughing a little too loud as if forcing himself to, looking nervously around the chemistry lab, trying to avoid your gaze as he fixed his glasses.

“I meant that you're really amazing, you know.” He finally said gulping, like the words were too hard to be spoken out loud and your jaw hit the floor as you looked at him gaping.

You were certainly not expecting this. So, this guy who kept snatching everything you wanted, always by the narrowest, infuriating difference while passing a smile at you, standing right just next to you as if he didn't do the few to just piss you off and see you fume and mop over it.

The golden boy, the one who never failed at anything he tried, thought you were amazing ?

Not even in your wildest dreams you could have thought that.

And what the fuck, why was he blushing at that.

You finally picked your jaw from the floor to speak, “So, um, hey I don't– well thank you. But I wanted to know-”

And that was exactly when the bell rang.

And boy were you after him with a knife or what, he immediately ran off before you could continue further as soon as the bell hit bidding you a quick goodbye.

Damn, he was better than you for nothing if he took classes so seriously, ugh you would have to pull your socks up for this semester exams again.

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