Eyes of Sin ☾ t.law x reader

Chapter Fourteen

"In all the wild world, there is no more desperate a creature than a human being on the verge of losing love."
~ Atticus

Track 14; Lonely Boy by The Black Keys

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Windswept tides churned and bubbled at the rocks underneath your bare feet. They were black, cold, and almost felt thick against your skin, drawing you out towards the foggy abyss that obscure your vision. You cannot feel your fingertips, they are numb. Your hair whips about you in sharp, stinging tendrils as they lash across your face. You squint your eyes in an attempt to protect them. Your hands rise to shield your face from the sand the chopping gale has picked up. Wherever you are is hellish, and you need to find shelter. You are scared to breathe, wondering if you'll be able to inhale air or whatever nature was tossing your way.

It feels weird to stand on your own two feet when you move them, informing you that this is another dream. You were getting sick of these. You wanted nothing more than to be back home and with your family and friends; especially one person in particular, Trafalgar Law. It's hard not to think about him when the wind changes direction, buffeting you enough to make you lean back and take a step to regain your balance. Your lips are dry and chapped, almost painful. A large, pale yellow circle of light sweeps across your backside. You gain tunnel vision at the sight of your own shadow, though its arrival and departure is fast enough you question if you truly saw it or not.

You feel like you're moving impossibly slow, or perhaps not even at all when you turn to identify whether it was a hallucination or your mind. Behind you stood a tall, white lighthouse. Up at the dome, arching high above your line of sight the spotlight is searching. For what you aren't sure, but you can see somebody on the outcropping at the base of it. It isn't until they spot you as well, taking a step closer to the ledge do you recognize who it is: Law. You almost can't think when it comes to seeing him up there.

His golden eyes flash just like the lighthouse in the stormy grey environment.

You scramble to him, hooking your fingers into rocks protruding from the shallow cliffs edge. It would've only taken you a few seconds to reach his side if it hadn't been for the slippery surface. You anchored yourself three quarters of the way up, hands reaching for the top which was in your reach. When they felt the ledge, you nearly toppled over backwards when you felt strong, lithe fingers pry them up and a wrist slipped into your palm. You grab it, and he does the same for yours.

The wind nearly robs you from the ground due to its intensity when you're on your feet. It's deafening, blinding, and snatches every sense you can think of. The goosebumps across your skin are unbearable enough to the point that they hurt. You found rain lashing against you, an onslaught of slanted bullets that pierced deep enough to touch your bones. You can't think of the desolate weather around you when your hands are pulled away from you and you collide into a chest.

He's warm, and his heart is beating strong and fast in your ear. Your fingers curl into his shirt as he gathers you into his arms, doing his best to shelter you from the storm. You don't notice he's picked you up and moved you until your back pressed against rugged, scratchy walls and you no longer feel the rain on your skin. It takes a while for you to open your eyes, afraid that if you do, you'll wake up and be back in that mansion. They feel heavy, eyelashes weighted by the rainwater that had previously assaulted you.

His fingers feel like warm traces of soft embers traversing across your skin. It's almost like he's sketching the life back into your limbs, faint touches as if you were delicate glass. You're pressed into him as he sits with his knees flush against the wall you can feel on your back. He used himself as a shield between you and the wicked world. A white shirt clings to his tan skin, black inky tattoos hidden in the grey atmosphere. You tilt your head up to look at him, to find him already staring at you. He runs his thumbs across your cheeks, and pulls your lips to his.