#I bet someone’s done this one before oh well
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First Light
I have FINALLY got the first chapter of my Rolan fic ready!! This one is just fluff, so no big tags. Alcohol mention, bittersweet ending.
Word count: 9,129
AO3 Link here
It is a truth universally acknowledged that an archmage in good standing must be in want of an apprentice. That was what awaited Rolan in Baldur’s Gate, he reminded himself. He would happily sit through this night of drunken merriment if it meant they were finally free to continue on in the morning. Well, perhaps not happily, but tolerably. In his opinion, they had already wasted enough time while they cowered in the druid's grove; but Lia and Cal would not allow themselves to be swayed before properly thanking their so-called hero.
“Hells, Rolan. You look far too dour for someone who’s supposed to be celebrating,” his brother said, leaning against a felled log with a drink in hand.
“I’d rather not end up as a drunken fool by the end of the night. I’m sure you’ll already have that taken care of,” Rolan replied. “Besides, I’ll celebrate when there's a real reason to. All any of us accomplished was being the damsels in distress to a crew of adventurers.”
Lia raised her glass to point at him, swaying a bit as she did. “Glowering in the corner all night won't get us to the Gate any faster, Rol. You may as well join us ‘drunken fools.’”
“I bet he wouldn't be so grumpy if a certain person wasn’t still talking to Ikaron,” Cal said, nudging his sister in the side. He nodded his head in the direction of a half-elf woman a little ways off, sharing a drink with one of the refugee guards.
Rolan begrudgingly turned his head to look at Rhiannon, laughing and standing unnecessarily close to the tiefling. Not unnecessarily close, he chided himself; she was free to seek the company of whomever she wished. The rest of the camp certainly was.
“She likes the grumpy ones, doesn’t she?” Lia said, flashing an unendurably knowing grin at Rolan. He didn't deign to reply, only grunting in annoyance and rolling his eyes as he turned his back to the scene.
He certainly had no expectations of Rhiannon seeking his company out. He had assumed when they met that she was nothing but talk and pomp, and had treated her as such. As a result, she likely thought the exact same of him, he imagined; another overconfident wizard who's bark was worse than his pitiful bite. He had done little to suggest otherwise, stewing and grumbling behind the grove’s safe walls while threats abounded outside. A less generous person may have even called it whining – his sister certainly had. But while he sat about worrying and complaining, Rhiannon had acted, clearing the road of goblins and saving them all. Rolan liked to fancy himself more than capable of a little skirmish, but that, it seemed, was the difference between them; where he fancied, she did.
“You gonna talk to her at any point, or just keep glaring at Ikaron all night?” Cal asked.
Lia snorted from beside Cal. “Please. He’s been staring at her for daaays,” she said, her drunken drawl dragging out the word. “He's just too chicken shit to admit it.”
Rolan’s face grew warm as he started to flush. He lifted his wine to his lips to hide it. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered into the glass.
“Aww, see, Cal? He’s embarrassed,” she continued. “Admit it, Rol. She’s not such a… what did you call her, again?”
“Nothing,” he hissed.
But they remained undaunted. “A ‘meddlesome little goodie two shoes,’ I think,” Cal said.
“Oh, pardon me for being skeptical of a group of mercenary adventurers,” he replied sourly. He surely couldn't be faulted for his suspicions, especially after what Aradin and his crew had done. Most people, after all, were only in it for what they could get; she was merely the unexpected exception. “I am… grateful for their help, and I will be even more grateful in the morning when we can be on our way.”
“Riiight, that’s why you keep sneaking glances at her when you think no one’s looking,” Lia said with a hiccup. “Why don’t you just admit you think she’s -hic- cute?”
Rolan choked on his wine. He spluttered, turning his face to hide the creeping blush. In a voice that he hoped sounded unbothered, he answered, “she’s… tolerable, I suppose. I wouldn't go so far as to call her pretty, but–”
“Who said pretty? Besides you, that is,” Cal said.
“Idiots, both of you,” Rolan hissed again. “Don't you have anything better to do?”
“Mmm, I dunno, Lia,” Cal said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “He picks an awful lot of fights with her. Most people don’t pick so many fights with someone they have a crush on.”
The word flustered Rolan even more. Crush? Ridiculous.
“Rolan's not most people,” Lia replied. “For him, picking useless arguments with her daily is practically begging her to–”
“Enough!” Rolan shouted. Their teasing was relentless. He looked around to make sure they hadn’t attracted any attention as he coolly straightened his robes. “You are both completely out of line. I assure you, I have no opinion of the woman either way.”
Rather than silencing them, his outrage only added fuel to their snickering fire. “If you say so, Rol,” Cal said. “So, if she came over to talk to us, you'd continue to be totally unbothered, like you clearly are now?”
“Of course,” Rolan answered sharply as he sipped his wine.
“Oh?” A dangerous glint was catching in Lia’s eyes; he saw the wheels turning in her head just a moment too late to stop them. “Let’s test that then! Hey, Rhi–”
Rolan jumped to stop her as she cupped her hands around her mouth, but it was too late; the adventurer was already looking towards them. He let go of Lia’s arm and cursed under his breath as his siblings waved for her to join.
Rhiannon was, of course, all smiles as she excused herself from Ikaron and walked towards them. She was always all smiles; excessively so, it seemed to Rolan. Still, she looked somehow different than he remembered as she bounced over to Lia’s side. Her hunting leathers were abandoned in favor of light summer clothes; and her dark hair flowed in careless waves behind her, instead of tightly braided up and out of the way. All the blood and dirt she usually sported had been scrubbed away for the occasion, and for once, she smelled less like goblin guts and more like… honeysuckle? He was staring; he knew he was, gods dammit all, and he would never hear the end of it.
“Hey Lia. Hi Cal,” she said warmly. With just a glance at him, she added quickly, “Rolan.” She almost sounded nervous; had he given her that poor of an impression? He nodded silently to her in acknowledgment, silently making a note to absolutely throttle his siblings for this later.
Rolan suddenly wished he had prepared a good invisibility spell; with his siblings, he should have expected something like this. Surely everyone was too drunk or distracted to notice if he slipped away? He began to search his mind for any half believable reason to leave, but before he could open his mouth, his siblings flanked him.
“We just wanted to make sure you were enjoying your party. Rolan thought you might be a bit bored over there,” Cal said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. Rolan didn't respond, only clenched his jaw; he considered how bad the collateral damage might be if he were to cast a fireball at his brother right now. He almost thought he saw Rhiannon’s cheeks flush. Gods, was the mere idea of him that abhorrent to her?
“It’s not my party,” she replied, “but it’s nice of you to–”
“Oh, I beg to differ, fearless goblin slayer,” Lia interrupted, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Alfira’s been trying to write your ballad all evening.”
“What drives a hero like yourself, anyways?” Cal asked, shooting a sideways glance at Rolan. “What do you get out of meddling in our affairs?”
Rhiannon let out a small laugh, running her fingers through her hair as she pushed it back. “Wrong place at the right time? I don't know. It just… needed to be done, I suppose, and we were in a position to do it.”
Cal nodded, as if he was trying to look very serious. “Very admirable. Wouldn't you agree, Rolan?”
Rhiannon answered before Rolan could begin to formulate a reply. “Reckless is more like it, I think,” she said, “and I don't think I could claim it was entirely altruistic. We needed the First Druid and a clear road just as much as anyone else.”
“Regardless, I think we need to share a drink with our savior!” Lia said, wobbling a bit as she raised an open bottle in cheers.
Rhiannon took the bottle from her with one hand and reached to steady Lia with the other. “I think you've had plenty,” she said, gently righting them both. To his surprise, Rolan found himself enjoying the scene - only for a moment, of course. And only at Lia’s foolish behavior, obviously.
But a moment was long enough for Lia’s notice; he was caught, and whatever momentary delight he may have found died under her scheming eyes. “Noooo, you should definitely stay. Rolan’s just about to show off his spells.”
An unspoken agreement passed between his siblings in the next few moments. “Oh, of course,” Cal said, sounding a touch too eager. “Rolan’s been dying to show you his magic touch.”
Rolan glared pointedly at Cal as his brother and sister snickered. Rhiannon was looking at him expectantly from under Lia’s arm, still trying to keep his sister upright as she grinned smugly at him. He tried to regain his composure. “You don’t – I… am sure you have better things to do than…” He trailed off, gesturing a hand and a slight bow of his head in place of any words.
“What’s the matter, Rolan? Performance issues?” Cal whispered loudly.
“Too much wine, Rol? Or is something else distracting you?” Lia asked, far too transparent for Rolan’s liking as she shot a wink at Cal that he prayed to all the gods went unnoticed.
“Oh, for… hush, both of you,” he answered with a scowl, heat crawling up the back of his neck. He was no stranger to his siblings' taunts and teases, and could normally give as good as he got – in private. They weren't likely to drop the topic until he was utterly mortified or Rhiannon was entirely put off from him - or both. Rolan cast half a glance at her before looking quickly away, as if his eyes couldn’t bear the humiliation of seeing her reactions to all this. “You… can stay, of course. If you wish.”
“Oh, she’s staying,” Lia said, half-dragging the woman along with her to sit on a nearby rock. Rhiannon made no objection, only laughing as his sister pulled her along, assuring Lia she “wouldn’t dream of missing it.” Cal stood on the other side of her. All three were now staring expectantly at Rolan - though it was only her gaze he found himself faltering under. He stood still for a moment, trying desperately to remember any spell of the dozens he had taught himself while his sister continued to taunt him. “Well? Get on with it, wiz.”
“I… be patient,” he scolded with a nervous huff, trying to will himself to appear calm. “Have you no respect for showmanship?”
Cal snorted loudly, earning himself a playful swat from Rhiannon before all eyes turned to Rolan. Clearing his throat, Rolan began to move his hands across the sky, fingers deftly tracing intricate patterns into the air in front of him. With a final flourish, a shower of shimmering purple lights flickered to life in front of them. He looked on at his handiwork with a self pleased grin - until he caught sight of Rhiannon. She was leaning forward in her seat, positively enthralled as the shimmer of the spell sparkled against her gray eyes. He was almost transfixed himself, either by her or from the wine in his system as he watched the lights dance across her face. He was so enraptured by the sight that he had barely noticed her gaze drift past the spell onto him; she had caught him openly staring, he realized, as she laughed and looked away.
He cursed himself silently. By the way she fidgeted now in her seat, he had surely made her uncomfortable again. But Cal didn't seem to notice, letting out a low whistle as he leaned back. He looked at Lia over the top of Rhiannon’s head. “Remember when he could barely cast that?”
“They grow up so fast,” she replied, miming as if to wipe a tear from her eye.
Rolan scoffed back at them as he rolled his eyes. “It was you two who insisted on a magic show.”
Rhiannon simply laughed, a warm and friendly sound that made his insides flutter. “Well, I thought it was lovely,” she said. “Very impressive.”
“Lot of fuss for some twinkly lights,” Cal said, waving his hands around in an animated pantomime of spellcasting.
“Of course. I’d never expect a troglodyte such as yourself to appreciate the finer things,” Rolan quipped, trying to appear less amused than he was as his brother clutched at his chest.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Lia looking mischievously at Rhiannon. Whatever unspoken words passed between them made her blush rather furiously as she jumped to her feet. She cleared her throat and let out another nervous laugh. “Well! I’m sure I should get out of your hair. But thank you, really. For including me in your…”
“Oh,” Rolan replied, his face falling serious again. “Of course. I…” He wasn’t sure if he was feeling more relieved or disappointed, only that he found it hard to meet her gaze as she made to leave.
“Actually,” Lia said as she shot up from her seat, still more than a bit wobbly and clinging to Rhiannon’s shoulders, “me and Cal were just leaving.”
Both of her brothers looked at her with a quizzical brow. “We– oh!” Cal said as she kicked at his leg. “Right. Alfira said she needed us for… you know, that thing. The, uh…”
“Lute strings!” Lia finished. “And once she restrings her lute, we were going to help her finish her song, so we’ll be gone for a while. Say, Rhiannon, if you're not busy…?”
Rolan was painfully aware of the ideas forming in Lia’s mind as Rhiannon looked at her, head cocked to the side. “I… not exactly, no. But really, I wouldn't want to impose on–”
“Ah, nonsense!” Cal said as he clapped her lightly on the back, walking past her to grab Lia’s arm. “He doesn't mind. Do you, Rolan?” He didn't wait for a reply, other than the withering glare Rolan shot at him.
“Great, that’s settled then!” Lia said as she slid past them. “He’s not busy, either. And he wouldn't be so cruel as to turn up his nose at your company – would you, Rol?” She stood beside Rhiannon, hands on her shoulders as she flashed her best not-so-innocent eyes at her brother. He wanted to strangle them for this; for trying to embarrass him, and for dragging Rhiannon into their little scheme, to boot.
Rhiannon gently shrugged her way out of Lia’s grasp and opened her mouth – no doubt to politely decline, he was sure. So much so that he found himself greatly surprised by her answer. “I… wouldn’t mind the company,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
He stared at her for a second, wondering if he perhaps had misheard her. Disbelief, then surprise, and something like relief crossed his face in a matter of moments. Before he could respond, Lia spoke. “Great! I’m sure the two of you will have fun,” she said, shooting a covert wink at her brother as she passed.
“Yeah, let him show off for someone else for a change,” Cal added with a grin.
Rolan started, watching them leave with a defeated grimace. “I swear, the two of you are–”
“Play nice, Rolan!” Lia called over her shoulder as the two of them disappeared. Rolan shook his head as he let out a sound somewhere between a nervous sigh and a chuckle. He turned back to Rhiannon, a bit unsure of what to do next; she was still standing in front of him, still clutching the bottle of wine to her chest as she shuffled back and forth on her feet. Was she waiting for him to speak? Did he know what to say, anything to say to her?
“Wine?” She asked, stiffly sticking her arm out to offer him the bottle.
“Gods, please,” he replied, gratefully taking it and pulling a long swig. He winced against the bite of the cheap drink, no doubt salvaged from some ransacked village, and wiped the remnants from his lips with the back of his hand. “Sorry. About them. They’re…” He shook his head again with a huff. “You don’t have to… if you have somewhere else you'd rather be, I wouldn't… I would hate to hold you up here, I mean.”
“No,” she answered quickly, before adding, “but I wouldn't want to be a bother if–”
“You’re not,” Rolan answered, offering the bottle back with a small smile as his own nerves lessened. “I'm more worried about being poor company, I suppose.”
“You’re not,” she answered back softly with her own grin. “A bit grumpy sometimes, though. Insufferably cocky, according to some.”
“I am not–” He looked up to defend himself, but the anger in his chest melted to surprised amusement when he saw her smirk: was she… teasing him? “You’re worse than Cal and Lia, you know. If I had known you stuck around just to mock me…”
She took a sip from their now shared bottle with a playful smile. “Oh, I wouldn't dream of mocking you, Rolan. Besides, cocky isn't exactly a bad look for you.” At that, Rhiannon started, as if her own words had snuck up on her. “Or… for wizards in general, I mean. After all your studying and everything, I’m sure you've earned it.”
“Don't let Lia hear you say that,” he replied. She laughed again, swaying ever so slightly towards him as she did; his heart suddenly felt like it was doing flips in his chest. This might have been the longest conversation he could remember having with her, now that he thought about it; the longest without some snide remark slipping from his lips, at least. He cringed to himself again at what an utter ass he had been to her; but looking down at her now, laughing and smiling, standing so close to him that he could smell her perfume, flowers and wine and her godsdamned laugh muddling his thoughts…
“It's impressive,” she said, bringing him back to reality as she leaned against the rock again. “Did you really teach yourself everything?”
“Of course,” he answered. “No one in Elturel had the time or the inclination to teach an orphaned tiefling child how to be more dangerous, but I knew I had it within me to be great. I became my own teacher.”
“How did you do it?” Rhiannon asked. “I mean, it couldn't have just been books, right?”
Rolan stepped forward to reach for the bottle and took a quick swig before answering. “Books, yes, and practice. I… I used to sneak out to watch the Hellriders when they were fighting. We weren't supposed to, and our mother would've been furious if she caught me, but… I watched the mages casting, and tried to copy what they were doing until it worked.”
“Huh.” She was staring at him critically - or perhaps inquisitively. “I never had the chance to study magic. Always wanted to try, but being on the road, village after village… traveling tutors weren't exactly in the budget. That, and I'm afraid I never had your discipline when it came to studying.”
“Oh?” He replied. “I would have thought you’d meet plenty of mages on the road. They couldn't teach you?”
Rhiannon took another sip of wine with a rueful smile. “Yeah, well… truthfully, my dad wasn't thrilled with the idea of it. He taught me a few practical things, of course, like he used - healing spells and some stuff with my bow. But there was always a reason not to take any lessons. We didn't have time to stop, or money was too tight. Spellbooks were too heavy to lug all over the Sword Coast. But really, I think he was just scared of me running off like–” She stopped short, as if she had surprised her own self with her story. “I… sorry, must be the wine. I’m sure I didn't stay to talk your ear off with my life story.”
He recognized the look on her face as she eyed the ground; the same look he saw on his siblings and the other refugees when they were trying not to dwell on Elturel. It was the look they usually made right before leaving to sulk in their own misfortunes. But he wasn’t ready for her to leave; truthfully, he was desperate for her to stay, to keep talking and laughing and just be near him. He searched his mind for anything to salvage the conversation before it was too late.
“Why did you stick around, then? If not to pick fun at me.”
She started a bit, pushing a strand of hair back from her face as she looked from the ground to him, a mischievous twinkle lighting in her eyes.
“I'm only here to watch some magic, of course,” she answered with a coy smile.
He smirked back, his own eyes lighting up at her smile. “Of course,” he said, though not without noticing the way that she blushed. Surely just the wine, he told himself, but... “By all means then. What kind of magic were you hoping to see?”
“I… don't know?” She answered, perking up against the rocky seat. “I thought you were supposed to be the expert on magic. What can you do?”
Rolan answered with a very self-assured snort. “Plenty. Watch.” He moved to stand beside her as she watched with one eyebrow raised at him. With a little looking, he found his target: Cal, trying his luck with the dark-haired cleric on the other side of the camp. He gave Rhiannon a quick sideways glance before casting; in moments, a short gust of wind knocked his brother off his feet, sending his drink careening towards the woman’s clothes.
Rhiannon gasped beside him before breaking out in laughter. “You’re horrible!” She said between laughs, trying to sound serious as she swatted his arm. “I never knew magic could be so petty.”
“When the need arises,” he said, looking over at her. Her hand was still on his arm, resting just at his elbow as she watched the scene unfold with guilty amusement. “Don’t feel too badly for him. He’s not as innocent as he seems.”
“Is that so?” She asked, laughing. “Well, gods forbid I ever end up on your bad side. If that’s what you do to your own brother, I can’t imagine I’d have any hope.” She swayed a bit as she laughed, bumping into his arm and sending a shiver through him.
“I wouldn't worry about that,” he said, surprising himself with how gentle his own voice sounded.
He paused; Rhiannon had suddenly gone silent. Had that been the wrong thing to say? The wrong way to say it? He looked down at her, frozen at his side now, eyes locked onto his with a more serious expression. He’d accidentally overstepped, misread the tone of their conversation, and had now put her in an awkward position. It was Rhiannon who broke the stillness, before he could come up with an appropriate apology. She looked down at her hand in mild alarm, as if she was surprised to see it still laying on his arm, and stiffly patted the spot as she withdrew.
“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, taking a nervous step back. “And I thought you didn't like me.”
He let out a tentative sigh of relief as he cast his eyes on the ground. “Yes, well… I do give off that impression, don't I?”
“Oh no, I didn't mean– I just… hells,” she said. “I didn't exactly make a great impression on you, either, I’m sure. With the whole… sticking my nose into your family’s business, and then delaying your apprenticeship, and… I wouldn't have blamed you for holding it against me. I didn't blame you, in fact.”
Rolan looked at her, a bit… confused, honestly. She thought that she was to blame for his horrendous behavior? His rude remarks, constantly belittling her - she thought she had deserved that? After everything she had done to help the refugees, the grove, all of them, he’d still been unable to reign in his terse manner; and for some reason, Rhiannon had not only not held it against him, but believed it was what she was due.
Even if she saw no problem with his behavior, he felt that he couldn't let it stand. “Rhiannon, I believe I owe you an apology. Many apologies, probably, for my… ‘disagreeable behavior’ would be too polite to describe how I’ve treated you. You did nothing to deserve that, and you continued to help us regardless. I shouldn't have–”
Rhiannon cut him off with a wave of her hands. “You don't owe me anything, Rolan,” she said with that disarming smile. “If anything, we’re even for getting on each other’s nerves.”
He felt a lightness blossoming in his chest at her words, as if he was just now realizing how much this guilt had been weighing on him. He disagreed, of course. Her teasing and badgering were not at all “even” with his own harsh words, but he wasn't going to pick a fight with her over how many fights he had already picked with her; not now, at least. They fell into silence instead; he was unsure how to continue, but reluctant to let her go just yet. As she stood in front of him, kicking at the dirt and awkwardly shuffling the wine bottle in her hands, an idea came to him. He reached for the bottle and took a swig for courage. “Let me make it up to you, then.”
Her eyes shot up to meet his, twinkling with curiosity as she crinkled her nose. “How?”
He didn’t answer her question, only giving her a little smile as he nodded to an empty patch of shore a few yards away. “I think we’ll need more space for this.” Rolan held out a hand to gesture her forwards, a silent “after you” before following her to the water’s edge.
“Alright,” she answered as she eyed him with a grin, “but if you conjure up something to push me into the water like you did to Cal…”
He barked out a short laugh. “I wouldn’t dare. Just a peace offering,” he said, moving behind her while she watched him quizzically. Looking over her shoulder, he said, “here; hold up your hands… no, more like this…” Gingerly, he set his hands on her arms and guided them into the right position. He was painfully aware now of their proximity, of the very short distance between them. close enough to feel the coolness of her skin compared to his. A single movement could have brought them together, any sway or stumble or bump. That thought alone terrified him, the worry of another misstep to test her good graces as he poured all his focus into acting normal. He tried to keep his mind clear, to focus instead on the Weave around them. Hovering his hands just over her forearms, he began to to channel a small amount of magic through to her.
“Alright,” he said, steadying his voice, “try to focus on the Weave. Can you feel it?”
“I… I'm not sure,” she answered quietly, crinkling her face. Could she tell how nervous he was? Was it possible for her to pick up on his thoughts through the magic he was lending her? “I feel… something, I think.”
“Good. Grab onto that,” he said, chasing his paranoid ramblings away. “Now, you need to just copy my hands.” He demonstrated the casting gesture, a simple pattern traced with the fingers followed by a wave.
“Like this?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at him for confirmation. Her fingertips crackled lightly as she finished the gesture.
“Exactly,” he said. “Now, just grab on to that fragment of the Weave you felt earlier. Channel it outwards while you do that again, and…” With a small wave of both hands and a flourish outwards, shimmering silver stars burst forth from Rhiannon’s hands and hung in the air before them.
She stood there for a moment, mesmerized by the display as Rolan watched the stars twinkle in her eyes. “You did that, right?” She asked, still looking forward.
“No,” he answered, his eyes still locked on her. “I provided a channel for the Weave, but the spell is all yours.”
Watching her eyes light up in wonder at her own spell work, Rolan was struck with another idea. Casting a slight modification of the gesture, the stars in front of them slowly transformed into glittering silver sprites, couples dressed in ball gowns and finery as they waltzed across the air in front of them.
Rhiannon gasped as the dancers took shape. “That’s amazing,” she said with an almost breath less laugh. “And you do this all the time?”
“The magic? Of course,” he replied. “I don't often… I don't teach it to others, normally, but… I…”
The words melted away from his mind as she turned to look at him, shoulder just barely leaning into his chest as she smiled coquettishly over it. “Good,” she said, “I was worried this was the trick you showed all the women you were trying to impress.”
He laughed, letting his arms fall to his side. His heartbeat was picking up rapidly. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” she said, her teasing smile shining brighter than anything he could conjure as she turned and laid a hand on his chest. Would she be able to feel his heart, he wondered, beating wildly against his ribs with her every word? She leaned against him a bit more. “I was hoping I might be a special case.”
Time froze on that moment, balancing on the precipice between the playful teasing of a friend, or something more. He hadn’t even allowed himself to consider her a friend before; he didn't think he had earned the right. Rolan’s thoughts seemed to stop, completely consumed by Rhiannon, by everything about her. The way her laughs against him had seemed to reverberate through every inch of his being; the coolness of her hand on his chest; the electrifying thrill of her touch, through only a thin layer of fabric. He was lost in her eyes, her smile, her lips; gods, her perfect lips. With his breath still catching in his throat, he gently raised his hand, fingertips lightly brushing a few stray wisps of hair off of her cheek.
“You are,” he whispered before closing the space between them, placing his lips on her own. He went slowly at first; a gentle, tender, sweet kiss, with his arm around her waist oh so lightly, giving her ample leave to pull away if he had misjudged. But she didn't pull away; her own hands slid up his chest to cup his face as she pulled him in closer. Rolan felt like his world was exploding, infinitely, more and more with every movement of her lips against his. He felt her fingers weave gently through his hair as she ran her tongue across his lips with a small hum against them in the form of a question. He gave in quite willingly, their tongues aching to find each other while he wrapped his arm tightly around her middle, pulling her closer until she was left clinging to him for balance. But nothing was enough, it felt like; he needed more of her, a feeling she seemed to share. One of her hands made its way toward the belt of his robes, snaking just underneath the fabric to feel his skin, her delicate fingers sending a shiver up his spine as he lost himself in her. It was wonderful; it was perfect; it was–
“Rolan! Are you doing fireworks again?”
It was very rudely interrupted. They shot apart from each other at the sound of the tiefling child’s voice, followed by the patter of small feet running towards the shoreline. “Can you do– hey!”
“Not for you, squirt,” Cal’s voice followed. Rolan saw him grab the little boy by the shoulder and turn him back around. “Run off and play somewhere else.”
He thought he saw a sly smirk on his brother’s face as he shepherded the boy away; Cal and Lia were surely going to be unbearable when he saw them next. He stood stock still, dumbfounded as he tried to make sense of the last few moments. It wasn't until he felt Rhiannon start to shake with poorly stifled laughter that he realized his arms were still wrapped around her. His heart sank to his stomach, fear that he had done something wrong after all flooding in. “What?”
“Nothing,” she said, trying to master her own laughter. “It’s just…” She looked up from his chest, standing up on her toes to reach his lips as she leaned in. “Remind me to thank your wingmen later.”
***
The sun was well above the horizon before Rhiannon was able to rouse herself from her tent. So much for an early start, she thought as she dragged herself to the fire and blearily poured some coffee. As exhausted as she felt, she didn't regret a thing; she had spent half the night laying on the beach with Rolan, teasing the tiefling wizard between lazy kisses, and the other half lying awake thinking about him. Her heart fluttered as she thought over it again, memories of the night before playing through her head on repeat.
But as much as she had enjoyed it, his timing couldn't have been worse; the tiefling party was leaving for Baldur’s Gate this morning, and her own group was bound for Moonrise Towers. How bittersweet that their first moment’s together were set to be their last. But still, she thought that she would much prefer to carry the memory of sweet kisses that came too late than the regret of them never having come at all.
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” came a gruff voice from the edge of their camp.
Rhiannon felt a grin tug at the corners of her lips as she saw Rolan walking towards her very seriously. She smirked at him over the rim of her mug. “Good morning to you, too,” she said, stepping closer until she was only inches from him. He stopped short, a blush creeping across his cheeks adorably as he faltered, the cracks in his determined veneer coming apart so easily at the slightest provocation.
“I…” He stopped, letting out a chuckle as a small smile donned his lips. “Good morning. I thought I might’ve missed you.”
She shook her head, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “I just overslept. For some reason, I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she teased. “I was actually worried you might’ve already left.”
“Of course not.” The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, might have sounded short or even rude to her yesterday; but the thought that he hadn't wanted to leave without seeing her, as if the idea of it was ridiculous to even consider, spawned butterflies in her stomach.
“I– well, Cal and Lia and myself, we– I thought that– ugh,” He threw his head back with a disgruntled huff.
Rhiannon cocked her head at him, confused, before realization washed over her like ice. Was he having second thoughts? Did he regret their night together, showing her stars and magic tricks and tenderness? Was he trying to find the words to let her down easy, to avoid awkward expectations if they met again in the city? “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just– I am… not good at… this,” he said, gesturing broadly at her. “At…”
The lightness that had been in her chest turned to lead. She was making too much out of one impulsive evening; of course she was, and he could tell. Hells, everyone at the party had been looking for someone to spend it with. Why had she assumed it was more than that?
“Oh,” she said, taking a step away to hide her reddening face. “I… it’s fine. You don’t have to explain, Rolan. I understand if you don't–”
“No!” He said quickly, reaching out for her arm. “No, that’s not… Gods, I’m already making a mess of this.” He paused, taking a deep breath to collect his thoughts before continuing. “I… we thought… if we’re all headed to the city anyways, and there’s strength in numbers, that you might… you all could…”
“Come with you?” She asked hopefully, the words out of her mouth before she realized.
“I… yes,” he answered. “Or that, if the rest of your group doesn't want to, that at least… you might stay with us.”
He… was asking to stick together? Rhiannon’s heart swelled to an ache at the thought; at the idea of Rolan wanting her near, and the knowledge that she couldn't accept.
“Oh, Rolan, I… it’s not that I don't want to, believe me. I would in a heartbeat if I could, but… we really can't split up. Even if we wanted to. And we have to go to Moonrise Towers, and…” She realized she’d been avoiding his eyes. And the crestfallen look on his face as she looked up at him, the way he was already retreating back from the moment - it stung in her chest. She grabbed his hand earnestly as she continued, stepping in closer to him. “Rolan, please believe me when I say I wish I could. And I… just to know that you - or, all of you, that you want me around, is…”
“Why can't you, then?” Rolan asked insistently. “What’s so important about some ruined old towers? If you’re after adventures and gold, there’s plenty of other places that aren't so–”
“It’s not that,” she interrupted. She could feel her chest tightening as she spoke. “It’s complicated. I can't– it’s not easy to explain, but we can’t just… go our own ways.”
“Why not?” He demanded. Rhiannon looked away again as her eyes began to water. Not now. Don’t mess this up now. “Rhiannon?”
Images of the night before flashed in front of her as she looked at him. Shining little couples dancing across the sky, awkward laughs and sweet kisses, gentle arms around her. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to ebb the flow of tears threatening to break loose. “I… I'm worried if I tell you everything, you’ll…” She took a deep and nervous breath. “You won't look at me the same way. You’ll see… something else entirely. I just don’t want to… to ruin something… nice.”
Rolan furrowed his brow and tilted his head at her, confused and concerned eyes darting over her face. But he didn't pull away. “Tell me anyways.”
A choked laugh bubbled its way up her throat. Of course he couldn't just make this easy; he was going to pull the truth out of her, and afterwards, she knew that all he’d be able to see in her was a monster waiting to happen.
So be it, then. “Alright,” she sighed, nervously fidgeting with his fingers in her hand. She looked at the sky, then the trees, and the ground; anywhere but his face. She didn't have the strength to see the look in his eyes when heard what she was about to say. “When that ship crashed… we were all on it. We’re all abductees who somehow managed to survive the crash.”
She watched the realization form in his head. “But that was a nautiloid. It was a mindflayer ship.”
Rhiannon bit her lip nervously. “Yeah.”
“But if you were abducted, they would have… it's been weeks, that’s not possible. How could you still be…?”
Tentacle free? Blissfully in control of their own minds? “Alive?” She settled on. “I don't know. We think it has something to do with that little box Shadowheart carries, so as long as we stay together, we’re fine. But that’s why we needed Halsin. That’s why we have to go to Moonrise; he says the… he says it comes from there.”
She couldn't bring herself to say the word: tadpoles. The tadpoles that were slithering through their skulls, threatening to turn them all into soulless abominations. This would certainly be the end of any goodwill, let alone any feelings Rolan or his siblings might have had towards them. Towards her in particular. “I know it must feel like a betrayal, but I swear, Nettie made sure we wouldn't pose any danger to you all. We never showed any symptoms, and she gave us a bottle of wyvern poison to take if we–”
“Wyvern poison?” Rolan scoffed, a flash of anger in his voice. “She wanted you to poison yourself?”
“To keep us from hurting any of you. In case we couldn't find Halsin, or… who knows what else. I promise, Rolan, we never wanted to put any of you in danger. I never meant to–”
“We’ll come with you, then,” he interrupted.
Rhiannon stopped, tears halting as she cocked her head at him. “What?”
“If you’re going into the shadow curse, you’ll need magic to counteract it. Not to disparage Gale’s talents, but I doubt he has the experience that I do in these kinds of magic. And if you’re delving into ancient ruins, you'll need even more help. Lia is good with a bow, and Cal can handle a sword well enough,” he said. He didn't look angry, or upset, or utterly disgusted by her admission; he looked… determined.
Rhiannon felt confused; he didn't understand, surely. “No, you– it’ll be dangerous.”
“We can handle ourselves, I assure you.”
“That’s not what I mean. I… we could… change at any time. It wouldn't be fair to put all of you at risk like that.”
“You won't,” Rolan said decisively. “Not as long as you have that box, whatever it is. That’s what you said.”
“Well, as far as we know, but…” She continued to stare into his face, bewildered and bemused; and a little in awe, to be honest. “What about your apprenticeship? Weren't you in a hurry?”
“It… will still be there,” Rolan answered; he tried to sound cool and unbothered, but the nervous flickering of his tail betrayed him. “I can send word ahead with the other refugees. Besides, studying mindflayer repelling boxes and shadow-cursed lands must count as some kind of experience. Lorroakan will be all the more impressed, I’m sure.”
His offer was incredibly tempting, to be sure; but the weight of it all still loomed over her. “You don't have to do this, you know. No one could blame you for sticking to the safe route, especially when it’s not your fight,” she said. “I can't ask you to do this.”
“You’re not,” he replied, very matter-of-factly before melting into a faint smirk. “Lia is, actually. I think she’s grown rather fond of you.”
Rhiannon let out a small snort that erupted into a burst of giggles. It felt like too much to expect; she almost wondered if was still dreaming.
“Is that so?” She asked, tentatively laying her free hand on his chest, feeling his heart pound wildly as she hovered inches from his lips. “You’re saying Lia would miss me, then?”
She could hear the sharp breath he drew in getting caught in his throat as he wrapped an arm around her waist; could feel the shaky exhale against her lips as he stared deeply into her eyes. His answer was barely a whisper: “very much.”
She grinned back at him, biting her lower lip with a contemplative hum. Her heart felt like it was trying to climb its way out of her throat, the elation and anticipation within her too much to fit in such a small space. She leaned in slowly, heart thumping, her eyes never breaking from his. “In that case…”
“There you are. Are you quite ready to– …oh.” Rolan started under her hand, blush creeping up his cheeks before burning into annoyance at the elf’s salacious tone and very unwelcome intrusion.
Rhiannon glared at him pointedly. “Can I help you, Astarion?”
“Apologies, I didn't realize you were busy,” he replied, cutting suggestive eyes at the two of them. “Some of us were simply wondering if you’d be ready to depart any time soon. You know, worms to be cured, cults to be dealt with…”
“...oh,” she replied, deflating as she sank back down to her feet. It was late into the morning, to be sure, but she had hoped… “Are they already ready?”
“Very nearly,” Astarion answered. “Halsin is talking to his druids; probably telling them when to water his trees in his absence, or whatever it is druids do.”
Across the camp, Halsin’s hulking form jutted out above the rest, in jovial conversation with his people. He was the one with the knowledge of the shadow curse; they would have to clear this with him if Rolan was to join their party. Rhiannon grabbed Rolan’s hand, uttering a quick “thank you” to Astarion as they took off in that direction.
“Halsin?” Rhiannon called as they grew near. “Do you have a moment?”
Halsin looked up from his discussion with a kind smile. “Of course, my friend. Speak your mind.”
“Right. Well, I– or rather, Rolan was saying– if it would be possible, that is, we…” Her stuttering, fumbling words came to a halt as they all tried to come crashing out of her mouth at once. She looked sideways to Rolan and nodded towards Halsin, a silent plea of a little help, please?
“My family and I are coming with you,” he said, stepping forward insistently as if he meant to leave no room for argument.
Halsin's face fell; he noticed the clasped hands between them. “I… see. I'm afraid we aren't bound for the city for quite some time, unfortunately.”
“I know,” Rolan replied. “We’re coming all the same.”
“The nature of our business at Moonrise is–”
“He already knows about the tadpoles,” Rhiannon interrupted, bouncing nervously at Rolan’s side. “They want to help, and I know it won't be easy to get to Moonrise, but that’s exactly why we could use their help. Right?”
But it was clear to her by the way Halsin looked at them that they weren’t going to like his answer. “I understand why you wish to come along, and I admire your bravery, but–”
“We’re more than capable of holding our own,” Rolan interrupted, the telltale signs of his temper flaring up. “So if you’re going to try and convince me that we can’t handle it, you can save your breath. We’ve survived more since the Descent than your peaceful little grove has seen in–”
Rhiannon tugged on his hand, a silent signal to please stop blowing up at the person they were asking a favor from. He grunted in response, clearly annoyed, but let any further words remain unspoken.
Thankfully, Halsin remained calm in his address. “I don't doubt your abilities, or your achievements. But the shadow curse, and this cult, present challenges that cannot be felled with force. If they are using these tadpoles as a means of control, as I suspect they are, I hesitate to allow any more people than is necessary to risk their lives.”
“We haven't been infected. They can’t control us,” Rolan replied huffily.
“Exactly,” Halsin continued. “They will recognize you as outsiders, at which point they will try to infect you with a tadpole we may not be able to counteract, or…”
“Or worse,” Rhiannon finished under her breath, remembering the scenes of murder and desecration they had witnessed at the goblin camp. “You’re right.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” Rolan answered, almost snarling on the words as he continued to challenge the druid.
Rhiannon pulled his sleeve again. “Rolan…”
“What?” He replied as he turned on her, the words coming out almost harsh enough to sting.
“Can I speak to you privately?” She asked. Rolan bristled, but bitterly acquiesced, his tail kicking up dirt as it swished angrily behind him.
“Your conviction is admirable, as is your dedication to each other,” Halsin said before letting them go. “I take no joy in splitting a young couple apart, but… Oak Father willing, we’ll all meet again in the city.”
Rolan snorted derisively, like he had another biting remark ready as Rhiannon pulled him away, muttering a small thanks to Halsin.
“He means well, Rolan,” she said once they were by themselves again.
He shook his hand loose from hers. “Don’t try to patronize me. Just because the druid doesn't think we can handle it–”
“I’m not,” she replied, laying a hand on his arm. “I know you can. If any of you could handle the shadow curse, I’m sure it would be you.”
Rolan scoffed harshly. “Then why do I sense a ‘but’ coming on?”
Rhiannon struggled to look him in the eye, fiddling with his sleeve as she stepped closer. “Halsin’s… right about the cult, I think. Especially about the… listen, getting yourselves infected would be bad enough, but they could do much worse. I saw them do worse, Rolan.”
“So everyone keeps saying, but I think we’ll manage against a few bloody cult nutters who fall to any group of adventurers,” Rolan insisted, “not that I mean any offense, but–”
“No, Rolan, you don't understand. The things they were doing in that camp, the things they spoke about, you can't–” Panic rose in her voice as she remembered the gruesome scenes burned into her mind; torture racks and cages, men thrown to wild beasts out of boredom, bodies made unrecognizable as they roasted on spits, or butchered like cattle to become worg feed. And everywhere they turned, the repeated promise of more at Moonrise.
She forced a deep breath. “You have to stay with the other refugees,” she said, the words spilling out of her as her breath returned. “Because I can't watch them do that to you, any of you. Certainly not because of me.”
“Rhiannon–”
“Please.” She put her hands on either side of his chest as she stepped into his arms, gripping at the fabric of his robe. “I know you don't need to be coddled and talked down to. I’m not trying to, but I… I can’t be the reason you all take this risk. Not when you don't have to.”
She stood there for what felt like far too long, her heart drumming erratically as she waited for him to respond. Finally, he answered with a defeated sigh. “I… alright. Fine.”
She let out a heavy sigh of relief, melting into his chest. “Thank you,” she replied softly. “And I'm sorry, Rolan. I am. I just–”
“Don’t be,” he interrupted. He sounded gruff, almost annoyed at her; but the gentle, nervous way he laid his hands on her hips suggested otherwise.
She let out another sigh, more comfortable this time than anxious. “It’ll work out better like this anyway, won’t it? The other tieflings need your help more than we will. That’s the reason you stayed behind to begin with, isn't it?”
Rolan ran his thumb over her side, looking down at her with an almost sad smile. “Of course.”
“Right,” she said. “And this way, you won't be late for your apprenticeship. And I can send you some very detailed letters about the shadow curse to impress Lorroakan with. Maybe even some samples of whatever weird shadow magic you were hoping to study.”
“Oh?” He asked, amused. “And where will you find a courier in the shadow cursed lands?”
“You mean there isn't some magical letter service you can whip up?” She replied. “How do you wizards get anything done?”
He chuckled at her under his breath. Her eyes were still streaked with red, and a single tear trailed its way down her cheek. As he reached to brush it away, she caught his hand in her own and pulled him in for a kiss. It only took a moment for him to register; he wrapped his free arm around her waist as he kissed her back, fiercely, full of purpose and promise as she wove her fingers through the hair at the top of his neck. He splayed his fingers across the small of her back as she pressed herself further into his chest, rolling every inch of herself against him in ways that would surely haunt his dreams in the months to come. As suddenly as she had started the kiss, she pulled away, still holding his head to hers, leaving him breathless and hopelessly dazed as he clung to her form.
“Just wanted to give you something to look forward to,” she murmured. She pressed one last chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away from him entirely, leaving only the tips of their fingers linked between outstretched arms. “Where will you be when I get to Baldur’s Gate?”
Rolan blinked as he recollected himself. “I… Ramazith’s Tower,” he answered by rote as his mind replayed what had just passed between them.
“Alright. It’s a date.” Rhiannon let her fingers drop from his on the last word as she backed away, eyes locked on him and a smirk on her lips. She kept up the coy facade until she turned away, letting it slip with a shaky breath once she was certain he wouldn't hear. Don’t let him see you making a fuss over it, she chided herself. No long, teary goodbyes to taint what should be a happy memory. It should be some sweet little thought to get her through the coming weeks; not something lost, but something had. But perhaps it could be something more, if she could make it to the city in one piece. The promise of something between them to keep her moving forward.
Something to look forward to.
#bg3 rolan#holy rolan empire#rolan x tav#rolan#rolan bg3#rhiannon oc#fanfic#tw alchohol mention#tw alcohol#fluff
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#I bet someone’s done this one before oh well#it’s just so perfect. it’s him.#hannibal#nbc hannibal#hannibal memes#hannibal shitpost#will graham#hannibal lecter#murder husbands#hannigram#hannigram memes#hannibal textpost#hannibal s1#hannibal season one
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roses are red, violets are blue, lynette is so done with the two of you
lyney x gn!reader
lynette thinks fontaine’s worst kept secret isn’t how neuvillette wears blue underwear or how the hydro archon loves a good drama, no, fontaine’s worst kept secret is lyney’s massive crush on you and how everyone and their grandmother know except you.
comedy, pining lyney, lynette being so done
Lyney’s frowning.
Most people would find it an odd expression on him, used to having him direct dazzling smiles and playful laughter their way. But Lynette isn’t just anyone, and the sight of Lyney frowning is hardly a rare phenomenon within the privacy of their household.
Freminet’s usually Lyney’s choice of victim for whatever nonsense he’s managed to build himself up in that head of his, but Freminet’s busy doing errands and Lynette is unfortunately the only person within vicinity that Lyney trusts with his secret—which isn’t even a secret by this point, people have been making bets on how long it would take you to realize that Lyney’s been pining over you since forever.
Case in point: Lyney frowning over two identical flowers. She doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know that her brother is having a midlife crisis over which flower to give you.
Lynette thinks he should just man up and confess. Preferably within the next week or so, otherwise she’d lose her bet.
“Lynette, which one is more eye-catching, the crimson one,” he holds up the flower in his right hand, then he raises the other one, “or the maroon one?”
Lynette gives him the deadest stare she can muster. “They’re the same color.”
“Oh, sister, have you no taste?” Lyney tuts, pouting at her for a moment before returning to that constipated look as he squinted at the ‘crimson’ and ‘maroon’ flowers. Talk about being delusional.
“(Y/N)’s not gonna care whether the rose is crimson or maroon or red,” she tells him. You’d probably accept a dead flower if it came from Lyney, with that starry-eyed look you always got whenever he so much as glances your way. Lynette’s not one to judge other people’s taste too harshly, but she does wonder what you see in her overdramatic and annoying brother.
Ah, well. They do say love makes people blind. Hopefully not literally though, Lynette’s not looking forward to performing shows alone because Lyney got blinded by his love for you—though if you asked Lynette, she’d tell you it wasn’t love so much as obsession. Only someone insane would spend hours picking out flowers and calling them ‘maroon’ and ‘crimson’. It’s just red.
Lynette squints at him. “And since when were you interested in the meaning of flowers?”
“Well, I suppose you could say I like to dabble in other pursuits.” Lyney gives her a cheeky grin.
“Right…” He’s clearly losing his mind.
“Red roses symbolize true love, though rainbow roses in particular pertain to passion, and…” He trails off, eyes blinking in astonishment. She can practically see the lightbulb appearing on top of his head.
With a flick of his wrists, the ‘crimson’ and ‘maroon’ roses disappear. Lynette watches him warily, wondering what kind of outlandish idea has formed in that head of his.
But he doesn’t elaborate more, only shoots a wink at her and says, “I’ve got a great idea.”
✧
His great idea, as it turns out, is to corner you in an alleyway and make it rain rainbow roses around you as he asked you out on a date, all while Lynette is crouched on the roof, dumping sacks of rainbow roses and vindictively hoping one of them stabs Lyney in the eye. No such luck.
You, as the ever-crazy romantic that you are, are awestruck and amazed by what he’s done instead of weirded out like how a normal person would be. With an eager smile and a twinkle in your eye, you accept the rose in Lyney’s hand and say yes when he asks you to meet him for dinner tomorrow. Lynette wants to barf, but settles for dumping another sack of flowers on top of the two of you.
And if she uses a little bit of anemo to direct a few petals to Lyney’s face? Well, you removing a petal sticking to his cheek and having your fingers linger there for a few moments wasn’t part of the plan (the plan being: embarrass her brother by having him choke on a petal while he’s speaking), but she can’t entirely begrudge the result. Not when Lyney looks like he’s about to have a meltdown with just one touch from you. Good blackmail material right there.
Lynette’s happy that the two of you have finally gotten your heads off your asses and are actually going on a date. Though mostly she’s happy about the amount of mora heading her way soon.
She’ll have to thank Freminet for telling her about the bet about you and Lyney. Maybe she can start a new bet on when the two of you are getting married—probably soon, if the lovestruck look on Lyney’s face is anything to go by. She hopes he won’t be crazy enough to propose on the second date, because you’d certainly be crazy enough to accept if he did.
Oh, well. Lynette will put a bet on one month just in case.
#look i haven’t done the archon quest yet#so i don’t have a good feel yet of their characters#but i’m sticking with this characterization!!#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#lyney x reader#gn reader#lynette
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Tom meeting reader at an event and he’s just flirting the whole night and ends up getting her number
i watched the golden globes and got inspired to write this! i hope you like it <3
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
If there was an award for "most nervous person in attendance" at the Golden Globes, you'd have won it by now.
Award shows never failed to make your stomach feel in knots the entire time, specially when you were nominated, like tonight.
The Great had been a huge breakout role, a period drama that had captivated audiences and critics. Now, you stood among the nominees for Female Actor in a Television Series – Musical or Comedy at the Golden Globes, and you could feel your heart pounding as the moment of your category being announced approached.
"Love, are you okay?" you heard a voice calling for you, turning your head you realized that it was Dua (yes, the Dua Lipa) who was sitting next to you.
"Just a bit nervous," you told her with a small smile, "I think I'll head backstage for a minute, I need a breather."
She assured you with another smile and you made your way backstage, a commercial break started just on cue.
You had rehearsed your acceptance speech a dozen times in case you won, and also had a pep talk ready in case you didn't, yet the nerves persisted. You knew you were competing against some big names, and whatever the result people online would have something to say.
Your train of thought was interrupted by your body colliding with someone, almost dropping your clutch in the process.
"Whoa there, careful," a voice chuckled, catching your arm.
"Sorry, I didn't see where I was going," you said, your cheeks flushing from embarrassment, of course you'd run into someone in classic romcom cliche style.
"No harm done. You alright?" he grinned and you recognized him, it was the man who had been flooding your Tiktok for you page for the past month, Tom Blyth, "I'm Tom, by the way."
"Nice to meet you, I'm YN," you smiled back, "And yeah, I'm okay. Just a bit nervous about my category. Oh you're presenting it, aren't you?"
"I'll have the privilege, yes," his charm effortlessly showed, "And just so you know, I'm rooting for you. You were phenomenal in The Great, one of my favorite shows I watched last year."
Your nerves seemed to ease a bit, his presence and charm making you relax. There was something about him that felt comforting, even though it was your first time meeting him.
"Thank you, that's really nice," you smiled at him, "But I don't want to get too confident, the other nominees are just as great."
"Honestly, I'd bet my hat you're taking that Golden Globe home tonight."
Tom squeezed your arm gently and you smiled again, and before another word could be exchanged, a crew member's voice echoed through the backstage area announcing that the show was back from commercial break in 30 seconds.
"Well, looks like it's showtime" Tom glanced towards the exit, then back at you. "Knock 'em dead out there, YN. You got this."
"We'll see."
With a final wink sent your way, you parted ways. You returned to your seat and tried to enjoy the ceremony as much as you could, your nerves still in the back of your head but your interaction with Tom making you feel more at ease now.
"And now, presenting the award for Female Actor in a Television Series – Musical or Comedy, please welcome The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes star, Tom Blyth!"
You heard the host say and you knew t was time, and once again a wave of nerves and uncertainty filled your body.
The crowd erupted in applause as Tom stepped onto the stage, his confidence and charm shinning through.
"Good evening, everyone. It's an honor to be here tonight among such incredible talents," Tom smiled, "Here are the nominees for Female Actor in a Television Series, Musical or Comedy."
A video played showing all the nominees but you felt like your mind was numb, you didn't even realize it had ended until Tom's voice was heard again.
"And the Golden Globe goes to," he paused for suspense, and you could see a small smirk making its way to his face as he read the name, "YN!"
Time seemed to freeze, you tried to process everything as you heard the applause from the crowd and those around you congratulating you and before you knew it, you were on stage taking the award from Tom's hands and giving him a quick hug.
"I told you." He quietly whispered in your ear and gave you a wink, a moment that the cameras had caught.
You gave your speech, thanking your cast mates, directors, family, friends and the rest of the nominees. Once you were done you headed backstage with a proud smile and your newest award in hand.
The night went on and you definitely enjoyed every minute of it, mingling with other actors and thanking everyone who approached to congratulate you.
Once the ceremony wrapped up, you headed to the after party, you were sipping on a fruity drink by the bar when you felt a presence behind you.
"Hey, can I steal a moment with the newest Golden Globe winner?"
You turned around noticing it was Tom, he had changed to a different suit and you couldn't help but think that he looked really handsome.
"Sure, what do you need, president Snow?" you laughed, feeling a newfound confidence around him.
"How about your number? I'd hate to lose touch with Hollywood's latest sensation." Tom flashed his charming smile again, taking you by surprise and making your entire body feel giddy.
"Smooth, Blyth. Very smooth." Blushing furiously, you playfully rolled your eyes.
"Well, when you really really want something, smooth comes naturally."
And just like that, after winning a major award for your career and feeling on top of the world, you found herself exchanging numbers with Tom Blyth, excited to see where that would take you.
#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth fanfiction#tom blyth imagine#tom blyth blurb#tom blyth x you#tom blyth fake instagram#tom blyth social media au#coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow fanfiction#tom blyth fic#harrysfolklore#tom blyth fluff#tom blyth smut#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus snow smut#social media au#tom blyth au#1k#2k
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Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.
To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.
On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.
But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.
At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.
As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.
#writing advice#rambling#first drafts#gotta say not mad on being called a horrormaster#feel like ive a ways to go yet#horror journeyman maybe
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well, i'm still in love with you !!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their fall-in-love-again era is them soft launching each other while driving their friends wild.
or
for when you're still in love with them and will be for forever. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚
social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader
prequel - saw ur mom at the grocery store ·˚ ༘
warnings - language. suggestive jokes (???)
author's note - im so SORRY for not updating life is CRAZY rn like ???? so much has happened like im in LOVE im DONE with SCHOOL i have EXAMS SJSHSJSJKSKS im so sorry i hope u like this i love u all <3
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 1,725,819 others
yourusername he's in my head so much i might as well just give him some
11,628 comments
username HOLD UP
username im shaking in my big girl boots rn what the Fuck
username y/n ?????
username SCREECHING
username roman empire or roman empire
username IM DYING OH MY GOD
landonorris just because you can type something doesn't mean you SHOULD
-> yourusername shut up u literally sprouted like an unwanted weed and not even the good kind
-> yourusername i am sorry that was mean
-> landonorris 😕
-> username someone keep these two away from each other before y/n makes lando cry 😭
username live love laugh y/n y/l/n
username i need cameras recording their whole vacation !!!!!!!!!
username this whole holiday will be so much more entertaining than 90% of all the tv shows out there 😭😭
username lord i pray that this is about charles
maxverstappen1 you didn't hear it from me but he's giggling
-> yourusername tell him to stop giggling and help me chase those seagulls away
-> landonorris LEAVE MY SEAGULLS ALONE
-> yourusername THEY ATE MY SANDWICH
username rip y/n's hater girl era u will be missed 😞☝️
username i know charles is thoroughly enjoying this like
username i will get over a lot of things in life but i will never get over lando and max joining the y/l/n-leclerc vacation simply because they do not trust charles to do the sensible thing
-> yourusername actually they're all dumb
-> maxverstappen1 excuse you
-> yourusername u called grey "dark white"
-> maxverstappen1 I PAID TO KEEP QUIET
-> yourusername blocking out the haters 🫸🙄🫷
username forever entertained by this group they never disappoint
username need me a max and lando to get me a bf or whatever 🙄🙄🙄
username waiting for charles to come here and say some stupid shit before going on with my day !!!!
charles_leclerc i bet u think about me
-> yourusername nah bc no way ferrari can make u THIS delusional what's the cause
-> yourusername i am sorry i was told that i cannot say shit about ferrari clown private limited whatever corporation
-> username please never change
charles_leclerc i will make u pasta !!!!!!!!
-> yourusername no thank u i saw what happened to arthur
-> charles_leclerc THAT WAS NOT MY FAULT THE PASTA WAS NOT GOOD
-> yourusername skill issue
charles_leclerc where r u
-> yourusername why r u typing like that
-> charles_leclerc lando said it's cool
-> yourusername lando thinks birds don't have feet don't believe him
-> landonorris why am i catching strays
username WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE FACT THAT CHARLES LIED TO GET MAX AND LANDO ON VACATION 😭😭
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly, landonorris and 2,167,926 others
charles_leclerc we'd still worship this love
12,628 comments
username NAH WHO IS THIS MAN
username OH ??????
username false god lyrics imma die 🤣🤣🤣
username y/n effect is so real
username PLEASE NOT CHARLES SOFT LAUNCHING HIS EX 😭😭😭
-> username y'all put some respect on my girl's name 😭
-> yourusername i am no one's ex i will sue u for defamation
-> charles_leclerc for legal reasons she's JOKING
-> yourusername how do U know that tf
-> username i missed this
username hshshdjssjdjsjjsajjn;;;;;;;;bwywuuaj;...
username crying this is everything i've prayed for
username no one's mentioning the fact that charles wasn't even supposed to go on the vacation 😭😭😭
-> landonorris he booked his tickets and acted like it was a mistake
-> charles_leclerc you're a mistake
-> username and THAT'S how i know y/n and charles are back together 🤞🤞🤞
username i need a documentary on this vacation u don't GET it
username max and lando we trust u
maxverstappen1 you just pushed your love in water
-> charles_leclerc she told me i looked like tweety from looney toons
-> maxverstappen1 well
username crying i love every second of this
username i need to study this man's brain under a microscope like
-> username his thought process is just so UNIQUE
username i need them to confirm their relationship so i can breathe a sigh of relief thank u
username need me a man who posts like this
yourusername told u taylor swift songs slap
-> charles_leclerc highkey
yourusername i'm the most hilarious person ever idk why ur mad
-> charles_leclerc you called me tweety
-> yourusername hilarious
-> charles_leclerc my lover's got humour
-> yourusername OMGGGGG
yourusername we might just get away with this
-> charles_leclerc i told you, if you commit murder i will NOT be an accomplice
-> yourusername those are lyrics but fuck u too i guess
username i prayed for times like this 🤞🤞
≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱
charles_leclerc added to their instagram stories
≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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yourusername well i'm still in love with u 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄 (❤️)
tagged charles_leclerc
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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 2,126,891 others
charles_leclerc 2 out of 262819 photos where she stole my phone and the one (1) photo with me in it like okaaaaaaaaaay (🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯💯💯🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️)
tagged yourusername
12,728 comments
username NAHHH WHO TAUGHT HIM HOW TO TYPE LIKE THAT
username PLEASE OMG
username andddddddd we're 🔙 to having charles have a breakdown every single time y/n (HIS GIRLFRIEND) interacts with him
username god heard my prayers
username why do i have a feeling lando and max went EXTREME
-> yourusername if u call pushing us both off the yacht and not letting us back on until we said "hiiiiii" civilly to each other extreme, then yes. they were EXTREME.
-> charles_leclerc still mad about it. i said "hiiiii 😍😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰🥰😘😘😘😘" and you said "hi 😐😐😐😐."
-> yourusername sorry i was too busy finding ways to poison u then ❤️❤️❤️ im good and better now ❤️❤️❤️ (police and officials LOOK AWAY)
-> username netflix needs to leave dts and document THIS
username someone should write a book on this vacation and it should be max ☝️☝️☝️
username WAR IS OVERRRRR
username they're BACK god bless
username the way i KNOW charles is thanking max and lando on his knees like homeboy would be stuck without them fr
-> danielricciardo excuse you i was the mastermind
-> landonorris you literally did nothing except sit on ft for hours and yell at us.
-> danielricciardo tell that to all those thank you texts (money) charles sent me
-> landonorris YOU TOLD ME NO ONE WILL BE GETTING PAID charles_leclerc
-> charles_leclerc i sent him $1 because heidi asked me to
-> heidiberger_ he threatened to fly out to italy i did everyone a favour
username the y/n effect is coming back with full throttle like yeaaaaaaaaah
username i need a trilogy on this vacation like i need EVERYTHING
username the way i KNOW both of their families just rejoiced like they were going through it 😭😭😭
username everyday i wake up and thank the lord and heavens for daniel ricciardo, max verstappen and lando norris
yourusername i look so good wtfff
-> charles_leclerc yes you do 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰
yourusername bébé ( baby )
-> charles_leclerc mon ange ( my angel )
yourusername soulmates 4 sure
-> charles_leclerc 👍
-> username lord i am not your strongest soldier
-> username why is he like this 😭😭😭
yourusername lowk missed taking 26271727 selfies on ur phone
-> charles_leclerc missed seeing your pretty face every time i opened my gallery 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔
-> username y/n never leave him again please
-> username my man's TRAUMATISED
#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 imagines#social media au#fake instagram imagines#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc imagines#charles leclerc instagram au#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x y/n
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you asked me to stay. [Not yet].
PAIRING! idol!bangchan x reader
SUMMARY: even if idols 'don’t date fans', there are no rules against a little bit of teasing, and so it happens that Mr Bang Chan here really likes your kind of thinking.
WC: 4.1k
CW: starts off fluffy, then angsty if you squint?, but develops into a (short but still) spicy NSFW. lol, the triangle of (fan)fiction! not gonna say anything else cause I don’t want to spoil it, teehee. Have fun! (I did!)
REQUESTED! here by my sweet 'n spicy baby @sharonxdevi, hope you like my take on it! <3
A/N: wanted to pop down here as a reminder that just because the setting is a fan meeting and yada yada, this work is still unrelated to Channie as an idol. now, please keep reading! I really like how this one turned out 🤭
[♦️☆🔒☆♦️]
He's so sweet.
You kept giggling and blushing like an idiot, but how couldn't you? The Christopher Bang was right before you, smiling and laughing at the lame jokes you blabbered as a blush surely creeped out, your face a deep shade of a pinkish tone.
“Oh, and I wanted to mention that you look so amazing in your performances! You have me addicted, Chan.” You giggled.
He chuckled, blushing lightly, raising a hand to his mouth, half covering it. “Really?”
You could melt at the sight of him.
“Yeah! I’ve watched all your fancams.” You nodded with enthusiasm.
His laughs turned louder, his ears red. “I feel so shy knowing someone as pretty as you watches me dance so much.”
…
You blinked, your eyes wide.
As what?
He cheeked his tongue, eyeing at you sheepishly.
Oh. So he knew what he was doing.
You smirked softly. Your change in attitude made him raise his eyebrows slightly.
“One minute.”
You eyed at the suited man that came to talk to Chan and smiled. He left back to his position, and you leaned closer to the idol.
“Just have to say, that tongue of yours?” You chuckled, and to him, it was one fo the most enticing sounds he had heard in a while. “Keep it in your mouth if you don’t want STAY to act up.”
There was a bubbly feeling in your stomach that only heightened when you watched his face displaying raw surprise.
You were about to combust in spontaneous fire because, well, you just flirted with an idol, a real famous one, that is, but then, he smirked, leaning even closer to you. You could feel his breath on the shell of your ear.
His hand softly took yours, and your breath hitched as he snickered playfuly, making you feel a shiver travel down your spine.
“I’m thinking there are far more interesting places where I could keep it.” He grinned in a teasing tone, staring at your lips for a second, licking his own. “But I’m obedient. I’ll keep my mouth shut if you say so.” He stated lowly, his eyes locked on yours.
…
Oh.
OH.
MY GOD.
He squeezed your hand, sitting back again. His face was covered by a shade of red, and he couldn’t exactly place what had taken over him.
For a moment, he bit his lip, wary of your reaction, considering you hadn’t so much as muttered anything, frozen in your place.
But then you chuckled, struggling to grasp what had just happened, and his whole body relaxed when you squeezed his hand too.
“Bet. You won’t.” You snickered, standing up, siren eyes staring down at him as you moved away, allowing the next person’s turn.
He winked at you as you left.
W-What had just happened?
Your mind felt fuzzy.
Had Bang Chan just done the triangle method on you?
Chan stared at your back before facing the person in front of him.
He could’ve sworn he had seen you before.
[♦️☆🔒☆♦️]
“YOU DID WHAT?!”
Chan grimaced at Hyunjin, sinking his head back on the pillow in his hotel room.
“Leave him alone, Jinnie.” Yongbok frowned slightly. “But I have to say. Not the smartest move, mate.”
Chan sighed in frustration. “I know, I know.”
And it was because he knew that he didn’t dare to say, but just thinking about you, he also knew for a fact that he wouldn’t hesitate on doing it again. Had he had the opportunity, maybe even more.
But idols don’t do that.
Because it is for a reason that idols don’t date fans. Marketing? 100%. Sure. But it also protected them from scandals and such. Or that’s what Chan liked to say to himself.
Felix felt a bit guilty. Chan had gotten scolded by almost all the members now, some who went more ballistic than others —like Hyunjin, who still was fuming, claiming that if Chan was going to do something forbidden, he could’ve said something better than that—, but he looked at the fellow Australian and stood up, laying his small hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder.
The taller one stopped his rambling against Chan and his alleged lack of creativity regarding flirting, and his eyes softened, looking at Yongbok.
“Give the man a break.” Felix smiled softly. “He understands what he’s done. He’s a big boy. Right, Channie?”
The big boy lazily raised his hand from the bed, not moving his head from the pillow as he hummed and raised his thumb.
“This bitch—” Hyunjin started, threatening to throw a pillow at the older one, but Felix quickly pushed him away, taking him back to their room.
Finally alone after what seemed like a lifetime, Chan turned around, staring at the ceiling.
He covered his face with his hands.
Reckless. Stupid, reckless idiot.
It had to be past twelve when he got tired of waiting for sleep to get to him. That never happened anyways. So he stood up with a groan, yawning out of boredom, quickly fetching a jacket and heading to the elevators with slow steps.
He got in and slowly started to put on his beanie and his mask, which wouldn’t really make a difference if someone recognized him, still, it gave him some reassurance. But then, the elevator stopped barely two floors after he got in.
His whole body tensed up.
He recognized who stepped in, messy hair, funny slippers and padded jacket on.
He knew who that was, because he had been right.
He had seen you before.
“Oh.” You smiled, and he could tell by the small wrinkles in your eyes, because the bottom half of your face was hidden by the jacket’s high neck. “Good night.” You mumbled softly.
He nodded. He was afraid you’d recognize him. He was unsure of what to do himself —or if he should do anything—, he couldn’t even think of how you would react. And just the idea that you wouldn’t like seeing him there made him hide his face more in his dark mask, so instead, he fidgeted with his room card, not daring to look at you for too long.
“Trouble sleeping?” You pondered in a kind tone. He nodded again, and you smiled. He had to hold back the impulse of lowering your jacket just so he could see your bright features, the ones that had charmed him so much barely a couple of hours ago.
“Same here.” You muttered, and he could’ve sworn that your voice alone, warm and soothing, could singlehandedly lull him to sleep in a heartbeat. “Walking helps though, don’t you think?”
He, again, just managed to nod. But for some reason, your presence didn’t make him feel guilty for not talking. In the middle of the night nothing seemed to have any rules between you two and the four walls of the elevator.
“Sorry, am I bothering you?” You asked in a murmur.
It was the first time he shook his head no, vigorously so, and you blushed lightly, smiling.
“Good to know.” You grinned, chuckling softly. The elevator dinged, arriving to the last floor. Chan held back a frustrated groan, yearning to keep hearing your voice.
“Have a good night.” You smiled, but his hand softly took yours.
“Huh?” You muttered softly.
Chan struggled. Fuck, shit, fuck. He had done that completely out of reflex. He didn’t know what to say, and just scrathed the side of his face, staring at your linked hands.
He shook his head once more, asking you to stay.
To you, you already had the weird feeling that you knew him. But he touched your hand, and something from it felt shockingly familiar.
Now, you could’ve sworn you had seen him before.
“What is it?” You asked, your voice coated in something sweet, something that Chan suddenly wanted to taste. “Would you like to walk with me?”
He nodded eagerly. And you grinned sheepishly.
You two crossed through the hotel main’s hall nonchalantly, and Chan just followed you, intriegued that you hadn’t taken the main entrance door to exit.
“Trust me,” you muttered, smiling. He felt it was scary that he would, in a heartbeat. “The gardens are so much better.”
You took his hand. A motion completely out of reflex, that both of you only allowed yourselves to yearn for in silence.
You grinned at him, turning around, and his breath hitched, lips parted beneath his mask when he realized how close you were.
You opened a black door to your right with a soft push of your body.
The hotel gardens at night were like a dream. The moonlight turned everything into a soft, magical scene. Tall trees swayed quietly, and you could hear crickets and leaves rustling. There was a small lake below it, its water calm, that reflected the image above it like a mirror, moon and stars glistening on the clear surface.
Even if Chan was only looking at the glow through your eyes.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You grinned.
You stared back at him. Something in his eyes reminded you of someone you knew. A peculiar someone, that is.
He hummed in agreement, and your smile widened.
“Shall we?” You giggled in a murmur, letting him step outside before you.
There was a warmth in the night that ushered Chan to take off his mask and hat.
But he didn’t dare to. Not yet.
You two walked alongside, hands and knuckles brushing against each other, and the idol allowed himself to grin as you smiled, looking at the flowers that decorated the place. It was the first time in his life that he had found solace in the shared silence of insomnia.
With a swift motion, he surrendered. He felt like it wasn’t fair to know who you where if you didn’t —or couldn’t— recognize him. To hell with it, he thought, taking his hat and mask off.
But, much to his surprise, you didn’t so much as glance at him. You just snickered when he sighed, sounding happier, breathing in the sudden cold breeze that swooshed in the garden.
“Better, huh?” You mumbled in light amusement.
He smiled, shoving his hidden identity in his pockets.
“Much.” Chan muttered.
His heart beat loudly on his ears. He could feel it pulsating rapidly, waiting for the moment where you would turn to face him.
But you weren’t, just strolling down the stone path, callously ignoring his nervous demeanour.
He was about to stop and move you, but instead, your hand took his again.
And then you squeezed it lightly. Much like he had done a couple of hourse ago.
His breath hitched. He stopped walking.
“Chan?” You smiled.
He felt chaos unravel inside him, his cheeks blushing, his palms getting sweaty, and his heart giddily beating in his chest.
Another rush of soft air crossed through the hotel’s gardens, making your hair move with it. He could smell your light scent, something that felt warm inside him, something that he felt could lull him asleep.
You grinned.
“Hi.”
He chuckled lowly. He hadn’t let go of your hand. A part of him didn’t want to. Not yet.
“Hi.”
He saw you blush under the moonlight, not knowing his red-tinted cheeks were more obvious than yours.
“What’s a boy as pretty as you doing in a place like this?”
…
He blinked, his eyes wide.
As what?
He saw you cheek your tongue, doe eyes looking at him teasingly.
Oh. So you knew what you were doing.
He chuckled, thinking that was going to be all your teasing.
“Judging by how long it took for you to talk, I guess you did mean to keep your end of the deal.”
“Huh?” He inquired softly.
“You know.” You bit your lip and blushed a bit more, making him more interested, taking a step towards you without realizing. “Keeping your mouth shut. Like the obedient boy you are.”
He started breathing heavily, a low laugh rolling off his tone.
“Oh, yeah?” His smirk was only powered by yours. “I must say, I can be quite rebellious.”
“Really?” You snickered, feeling his hand squeeze yours again.
“Very.” He gulped. His bravado only lasted for so much, and deep inside, he was equally scared as curious.
He wanted to keep going. He wanted you to stay.
“Are you trying to prove it?” You mocked cheekily.
He stared at your lips, his breath felt heavy. “Would you like me to prove it?”
His hand threatened to reach for your cheek, but it was you who finally held it and moved it towards your face.
“Bet.” You giggled. “You won’t.”
The night air was crisp as your eyes, deep and expressive, locked with his, inviting and enticing, a secret to be held in them. His hair, often styled with flair, rested curly and messy, but you couldn’t help but get lost in the untamed beauty that he portrayed. Not even his lips gently grazing yours could wipe either of your smiles under the moonlight.
And then, for a moment, it wasn’t gentle.
Maybe it was because he sighed against your lips, or maybe it was because you followed an impulse and bit his lower lip, but then it got twisted. Tongues danced with one another, fighting for dominance in a burst of sudden passion.
“C-chan,” you gulped, arms traveling to his nape, playing with his hair. It made him weak.
“Chris,” he sighed, yearning to taste your lips again. And again. He didn’t want to stop. Not yet. “Call me— call me Chris.”
You chuckled. “Only if you call me…”
You were going to tease him, but your ideas suddenly flew away form your mind when he started peppering kisses on your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth.
“What?” He snickered. “A pet name of sorts?” He was teasing you, and he was so enjoying it, tasting the weirdly sweet and enticing flavour of your skin in his lips. “Would you like that, princess?” God, he needed more.
You bit your lip, holding back sounds behind heavy breaths, and he patted your thighs, making you jump into his arms without hesitation. Quickly, he moved the both of you, pinning you against the wall closest to you.
“C-chan…” He bit your skin slightly harder. “Chris! Ah, Chris…!”
“F-fuck…” He muttered. “I… I can’t…” He leaned his head in the crook of your neck, now covered in small and red lovebites. “You smell so good.”
You pecked his forehead, trying to catch your breath, your hands stroking his soft hair.
“Not here, right?” You smiled, soothing, comprehensive. His heart softened.
He nodded, sighting against your neck. He let go of your legs, allowing you to stand back on your feet tenderly.
“I’m sorry….?” Chan mumbled shyly. You giggled, brushing it off.
You were about to say something, but then the gravel cracked under someone’s weight. One that wasn’t either of you.
He tensed up under your arms.
You sighed. “Move!” You ushered in a whisper.
He frowned, his eyes darting from you and from where the sound had come from.
“But you—”
“Chan!” You pushed him away, hiding him behind another wall, and quickly took your phone from the pocket of your jacket, zipping back up what Chris had lowered.
���Who’s in there?”
Chan’s breath haltered.
You had hid him just a wall more, meaning that if the security guard found any of you, chances were that he wouldn’t be caught. You would.
You both held your breathing, hands interlinked even if your bodies were as far away as they could to do so, your heartbeats quickening in sync.
And then, it was just silence for a minute, the gravel cracked below the security guard’s feet, and he left as sudden as he had arrived.
You legs felt like jelly, and you let your back fall down the wall, ending up sitting on the floor with a huff.
“You were going to get in trouble.” Chris muttered.
You looked at him from the floor. The moonlight highlightened his lean figure and charismatic features.
You nodded. “It wouldn’t be me who’d get in the worst of it.” You smiled softly.
He nodded with you.
“We should go before it gets too late.”
Just before heading back together to the elevators, you looked to the reception, and grinned softly.
The elevator back up felt more silent than usual. And for some reason that could speak and make him blush, Chan missed the sound of your voice.
“Good night, Chris.”
It wasn’t going to be a good night.
Not after that interruption, which not only scared the shit out of him, but also made him rethink everything he was doing with you.
Chan arrived back to his room. After half an hour of mindlessly staring at the nightsky through the window, someone knocked on the door.
Could it be you? Chris blushed at the thought.
He opened the door to find nothing. Then, he looked to the floor, and found a mug of hot chocolate and a small note.
may have taken a peek to your room card before. i had fun tonight! see you tomorrow? xoxo, your princess.
He grinned.
Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad night after all.
[♦️☆🔓☆♦️]
When he woke up the morning after, his mouth still tasted like chocolate.
There had been nothing that could wipe the silly grin on his face that day. Not his packed schedule, not the knowledge that they had to go back home and it would be his last night there, not the fact that Han had come into his room just to look for his missing sock —which, for obvious reasons, he never found there—, not the fact that Hyunjin was still bitter with him because of what he had named the ‘pretty girl disaster’ —which Chan intended to tell you just to see if you’d laugh like he had imagined.
His mind was filled to the brim with thoughts of you.
Your flavoured chapstick, your sweet scent, the way you mumbled his name —his real one, that is—, how your eyes glowed under the moonlight, how his hands fit perfectly in the curves of your waist.
He sighed happily for the upteenth time that day, coming out of the shower.
But then, Minho came in to his room.
“Hyung.” He started, and his low tone didn’t seem to bring good news.
Chan nodded, waiting for him to continue.
“I know I’m not really good at these things, but I think you should see this.”
The dancer handed him the phone, and Chan turned pale.
It was a picture taken from last night. Chan’s silhouette was fairly obvious, slightly pixelated and hidden by his beanie and his mask. And right in front of him, back facing the camera, was you, your hand holding his.
“So it is you. That’s what I thought,” Minho mumbled. “A random number sent it to Hyunjin. He saved the picture and blocked it, but we thought you should know.”
“Did they know it was me?” Chan stuttered.
The cat owner shook his head, and Chan was able to breathe normally again. “They thought it had been me with Jisung.”
It was there when Chan’s daydreaming faltered.
His thoughts started spinning, not knowing how or where to start.
Would you know about this?
What would you do?
“Hyung.” Minho sighed. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”
And Chan hadn’t been able to grasp that, but someone did.
The same someone who knocked on his door at night.
“Guys, you have your own cards.” Chan muttered, opening the door.
But it hadn’t been any of the guys.
“Hi.” You let out in a sight, panting.
Had you ran your way there?
“Hi.” He mumbled weakly.
“Can I…?” He opened the door for you, and quickly closed it back. He turned his back to you, his eyes wide and his heart going crazy.
“Chris.” You mumbled.
He turned around to face you.
“You asked me to stay last night and I went with you to the gardens.” You huffed. “But I want to stay here with you tonight.”
He blinked, passing a hand through his wavy hair. You were there. In front of him. Speaking. God, he had to concentrate.
“We’ll make a deal.” You breathed slowly, staring deeply into his eyes, yearning to know the secrets hidden behind them. “I’ll leave this here.”
You gently plopped your phone on the table near the door to his room. He was still standing there, as if frozen, pyjama pants on and only a bathrobe covering his lean and toned chest.
“A pretty man called Hyunjin came to me talking about some picture,” you started softly. “But yesterday didn’t happen so I’d ruin a man’s career.” His eyes followed how you raised your hands and smiled, and he couldn’t help but smile back.
“It’s off.” Your voice lowered, and he got slightly closer, as if wanting to hear you better. “The phone, I mean. Feel free to check it.”
Surprisingly, he just stared at it, then smiled cheekily, heading towards you.
Your eyebrows shot up and you felt deliciously small under his new-formed grin, and how his hands cradled your face.
He pecked your lips with a yearning sigh.
“I missed you.”
You blushed.
“You can have me all night.” Your smile made him feel butterflies on his stomach. “Just me and you.”
He kissed you again, longer this time.
His frame slowly caged you against the door, and he broke the kiss, stroking your cheeks. His body was pressed up against yours, his lips parted as he breathed softly, taking you in. He could feel heat running down his body just by the feeling of you back in his arms, and the only thought that he had clear is that he couldn't hold back anymore.
He needed to kiss you, again, and again, and again. He needed to figure out what you tasted like. He needed to have you. Your hands had gone back to where they had been the night before, and the way you stared at his lips threatened to make him fall to his knees.
His eyes were glued on your lips, and not long after, his mouth followed.
Chris’ heart was pounding against his chest, and he knew for a fact that he had never felt this way before. Never in his whole life. The more he tasted your lips, the kiss almost as passionate as your first one, the more you ruined him, claiming him as yours, making him addictied to the way you sighed and grinned as he moved your bodies to the bed, the hotter his body became.
He fell with you on the matress, and much to his surprise, you moved your bodies, sitting on his lap, taking a groan out of him.
“Such a beauty,” you mumbled, almost to yourself rather than him. “All for me, huh?” You smirked.
The whole world was hazy, the only thing that was clear was your body and your words. Just hearing your voice saying those words to him made him shiver, a shiver that he never experienced before.
He smirked too, and sighed when you untied his bathrobe, your hands roaming freely wherever you wanted to, stroking his chest, claiming him with kisses, the soft colour that they left behind, pink due to your lipstick, and the soft scratches of your nails, that made him bite his lip to keep his sounds hidden.
“Nuh-uh.” You tutted at him with a smile.
He snickered. “Oh, princess. Two can play that game.”
His hands pinned you down against the bed, his lips quickly going back to yours.
“You said I needed to keep my tongue to myself, and I promised that I would” He grinned, almost menacingly, lowering himself, trailing kisses down your body, discarding your underwear.
“I intend to break that promise.”
Maybe you and him would be difficult.
But he had asked you to stay, and you did. And he didn’t want to stop trying. Not yet.
[♦️☆🔒☆♦️]
~Kats, who did most of this in a hospital bed (‘m okay now dw) but fell asleep and didn’t publish it, lol. I LOVED THIS IDEA POOKIE TYSM !!
#stray kids x reader#stray kids#stray kids scenarios#bang chan headcanons#bangchan x reader#bangchan smut#bangchan fluff#bang chan x reader#stray kids bangchan#bang chan smut#stray kids fluff#stray kids imagines#skz scenarios#soft hours#skz hard thoughts#bang chan#skz hard hours#hard thoughts#chris bang#skz chris#chan x reader#skz bang chan#bang chan soft thoughts#straykids bang chan#stray kids smut
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✧˚ · . mk1 men with villain!reader [bubbles] ˚ · .
tomas, kuai liang, bi han, raiden, liu kang, johnny cage, kung lao, syzoth, shang tsung
—⭒ intro. dialogues, fluff, spicy, crush!mk1 men, crush!reader, pet names, hurt/comfort, flirting, power play, 's all? • came to my mind & I wanted to write but it's my first time to write this kind of work [intro. dialogues], so, take easy on me please. enjoy!
y/n: oh hi pretty boy! already missed me?
tomas: what would I miss? you tried to rip my heart last time we met!
y/n: c’mon tomas, be a good boy for me and maybe I will let you come and take a look up close.
tomas: I prefer not to get so close y/n. I don’t want to end up like the last time.
tomas: it's tragic to see you as an enemy of mine, y/n. I wish we met before all the bad things happened in your life.
y/n: don't, tomas, don't give me hope of having someone who understands me truly.
kuai liang: don’t play with me, y/n.
y/n: what would you do? burn me alive? well, that kinda sounds sexy.
y/n: well well, it's good to see my favorite boy.
kuai liang: favorite boy to kiss or kill?
kuai liang: you should join me y/n. together we can protect the earthrealm.
y/n: it’s a bit sad how you chose to protect it when you can simply - burn it to the ground.
bi han: you were so much more fearful in my dreams.
y/n: you dreamt about me? oh, so cute!
y/n: c’mon ice boy, I bet you need someone to warm your bed.
bi han: I take this as an invitation, y/n. are you so needy for me?
bi han: together we can reach the power we need.
y/n: baby, I can’t decide which version of you is sexier; evil or good boy. so, I would say; both.
liu kang: don’t play with this timeline, y/n. keep still. be good for once.
y/n: but where is the fun in that?!
liu kang: for what you have done, I should punish you.
y/n: it sounds kind of hot when you say it like that fire god.
y/n: I bet you would look so good on your knees before me.
liu kang: you always have a side that is hungry for power, aren't you, y/n?
raiden: I wish you were on our side, y/n.
y/n: it’s not my way to be a gentle farmer boy. I like it rough.
y/n: oh, is that blush on your pretty face?
raiden: don’t even start again!
raiden: liu kang says we once were lovers - in previous timelines.
y/n: you sound excited raiden. it’s a matter of time before we become one in this too.
johnny cage: oh, where have you come from? hell? because you’re burning like one!
y/n: after this fight, I will not be the only one who’s burning, cage.
y/n: no one can replace me, so, I can choose to play in your movie, johnny.
johnny cage: really?! baby, you even deserve your own movie! with me, as your partner.
johnny cage: you have all villain types baby; power, rage, a bit of sexy energy.
y/n: and you have everything to be thankful that I will go easy on you, star boy.
kung lao: you should be on our side, miss.
y/n: it’s boring, but I can let you be on mine farmer boy.
y/n: I like your hat much more now. how about we make a good use of it? in bed.
kung lao: oh, right? thank you for the - wait, what?!
kung lao: liu kang warned us about you; about how bloodthirsty you can be.
y/n: you shouldn't worry too much cutie, I will be gentle with you.
y/n: can you really shape-shift into a human and a reptile? it’s fascinating! can I have a close look?
syzoth: don't even think about it y/n. the last time's marks are still on my tail.
syzoth: why do you keep fighting with me?
y/n: because I wanna see the beast inside you. it’s mesmerizing.
y/n: you should be my assistant instead of milena’s. we can have so much fun together.
syzoth: a voice in me says that the fun you refer to is not what I think it is.
y/n: don’t think I am at your side shang tsung. it’s just business.
shang tsung: such a shame my lady. we could have been a great couple.
shang tsung: I wonder what you looked like in previous timelines, darling.
y/n: curiosity killed the cat, sorcerer. focus on me instead.
y/n: you know, I kinda like seeing you on your knees shang tsung. no one can even guess how pathetic you’re for me.
shang tsung: I don’t care my love. satisfying you is my priority.
💛
#💟 bubble work by rose!#mk1#mk1 x reader#tomas vrbada#tomas x reader#kuai liang#kuai liang x reader#bi han#bi han x reader#liu kang#liu kang x reader#raiden#raiden x reader#kung lao#kung lao x reader#johnny cage#johnny cage x reader#shang tsung#shang tsung x reader#syzoth#syzoth x reader#💨 tried for the first time & hope you like it! thank u! muuah
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death before decaf
opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms
summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.
a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.
one.
“How long did you say?”
“Two weeks, max.”
“Nah… you think?”
“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”
Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.
“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”
Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”
Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.
“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.
“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.
“Can I get a decaf latte with —”
“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.
You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.
Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.
“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.
“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.
“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.
“Yeah.”
Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”
Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.
“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”
Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”
Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.
“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.
You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.
“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”
Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.
You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.
“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”
“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”
“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”
“Princess.”
“Edgelord.”
You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.
“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.
Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.
“I’m gonna be late for practice.”
You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.
Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.
“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.
“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”
“Alright then, you’re on.”
Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”
two.
You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.
“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”
You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”
Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”
You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”
“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.
You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”
Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.
“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.
“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”
“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”
You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.
“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”
Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.
“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”
You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.
You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.
But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.
“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.
“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”
At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.
“Have I ever denied that I was?”
You let out a noncommittal grunt.
Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.
“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.
You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.
“So what?”
“Tell me about him.”
You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“
“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.
“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.
“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.
“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”
Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.
“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”
Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.
“It can’t be that bad, can it?”
You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.
“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”
Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”
Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.
“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”
“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”
You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”
Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”
You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.
“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”
You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.
“Wait — what?”
Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.
“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”
You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.
“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.
“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”
Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“
“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”
You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.
“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.
“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.
“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.
When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.
“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”
She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.
“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.
“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.
Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.
three.
You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.
“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”
You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.
“N-no.”
“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.
You narrow your eyes.
“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.
You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.
Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.
Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.
You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting —
Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.
You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —
What happened to your arm?
You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.
The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.
“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.
Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.
“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.
“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”
And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.
You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.
four.
Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.
“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.
“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.
You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.
Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.
You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.
Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.
“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”
Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.
“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.
“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.
Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”
You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.
“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”
“Fuck — okay.”
You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.
Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.
“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”
Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”
“And it’s now Tuesday.”
Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.
“It’s been five days!”
Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”
You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.
“Tell me where it hurts.”
You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.
“Ow.”
You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.
“You strained your Rhomboid.”
“Gesundheit.”
You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.
“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.
Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.
You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.
“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.
He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.
“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.
Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.
“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”
And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.
five.
Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.
“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”
You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.
On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.
And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.
Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.
And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.
“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”
You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.
You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.
When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.
You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.
When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.
You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.
You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.
Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”
You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.
Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.
“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.
Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.
“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.
Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.
“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.
You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.
“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”
Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.
“Still counts.”
You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.
He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.
“What?”
He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”
Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.
“I always like my —”
They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.
“I — it — wh —”
Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”
You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.
six.
Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.
“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.
You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”
At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”
You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”
Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”
You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”
Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”
You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”
“So?” she asks.
“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.
“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”
You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.
“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.
“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.
“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.
You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.
You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.
“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.
“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”
You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.
“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.
“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”
“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.
“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.
You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.
“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”
Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”
You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.
seven.
Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.
You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.
“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.
You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.
But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.
You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.
When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.
He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.
You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.
“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.
Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.
“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”
You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”
He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.
You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.
“I —”
Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.
“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”
Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —
“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”
Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.
You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.
“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.
“How long do you think it’ll take?”
You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”
Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”
You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.
“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.
He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.
You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.
Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.
“What —”
“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.
“Yeah, well —”
“Wait — no —”
Zoro cocks his head, “No?”
You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.
“We — your shoulder —”
“Fuck my shoulder —”
You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”
Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”
You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.
“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.
You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.
“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.
“Mine. It’s closer.”
eight.
His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.
It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.
“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.
You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.
“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.
You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”
Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.
“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.
Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.
“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”
Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.
“I still won.”
His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.
Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.
“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.
Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.
“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”
Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”
And then, a long moment later —
“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”
You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.
There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.
“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”
You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”
Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”
You make no move to leave.
“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.
You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”
He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”
“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”
“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”
You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”
At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”
“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.
“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.
You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.
“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.
Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.
“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.
“What about breakfast?”
“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”
You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.
“I…. guess.”
Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.
You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.
You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.
“God, you’re gorgeous…”
Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.
“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.
You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”
“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”
You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.
“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.
You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.
“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.
You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.
nine.
Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.
You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.
“Oh… hey.”
Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.
He clears his throat.
“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”
You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.
“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”
Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”
He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.
“So… breakfast and coffee?”
Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”
You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.
“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.
“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.
You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.
When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.
But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.
“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”
Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.
“Whoa… so much better.”
You smile, satisfied.
Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”
He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.
“You’ll freeze.”
Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”
You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.
“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”
Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.
“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”
Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.
“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”
He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.
“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.
You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.
Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.
ten.
There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.
You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.
When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.
“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”
Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.
“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.
“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.
You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”
Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.
“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”
Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.
Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.
Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.
“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”
You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.
You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.
He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.
It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.
“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.
Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”
You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.
“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.
Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”
You scoff, “Says who?”
Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”
You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.
“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”
You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.
“Kay, whatever you say.”
Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.
Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.
“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”
Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.
“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”
Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.
“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”
Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.
She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”
Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.
“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”
Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.
“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”
You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.
Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”
Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”
feedback always welcome :) reqs are closed.
#one piece#one piece live action#opla zoro#opla roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x you#x reader#opla#one piece netflix#opla zoro x reader#one piece live action x you#one piece live action x reader#roronoa zoro fluff#one piece fluff#opla fluff#roronoa zoro imagines#opla x reader#roronoa zoro scenarios#one piece x reader#floofy floof floof#scheduled post#*incoherent screeching noises*#i hope you guys liked the nico robin tribute hahahhahha i love robin tbh#can't wait to see her in live action#also kureha tbh -__- jaime lee curtis WE ARE LOOKING DISRESPECTFULLY#college fencer zoro
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·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ enemies to lovers
.ೃ࿐ adam x fem!reader .ೃ࿐
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
summary: in which you and adam find out you don't hate each other as much as you think you do
cw: NSFW, fem!reader, p in v, oral (fem recieving), creampie, adam (he's his own warning), hair pulling, semi-public sex, cussing
a/n: FINALLY DONE !! first smut fic though, so apologies if some things dont make sense :(
you hated adam. you hated his cocky attitude and his fuckboy persona. and most of all, you hated how everyone stayed quiet about it.
him being the first man didn't mean jack shit to you. if he was being an egotistical asshole? you won't hesitate to put him in his place. even if that meant starting an argument in front of the promenade, putting your hatred for one another on display.
adam, on the other hand, loved someone who could match his abrasive attitude. and it meant more that you went out of your way to shout insults at him every chance you got. to be honest? it turned him on. but he would rather die then admit that.
during meetings, you two would bicker non-stop, shooting daggers at each other from across the table.
so yes, everyone and their mothers knew about you and adam's ongoing feud.
what did everyone also know? the unspoken sexual tension between you two. the tension so thick it was tangible. the tension everyone knew about except the two idiots who claimed they hated each other. even lute was getting sick of it.
"what a bitch, am i right?" "yes, sir." "she's just salty because i'd never go for a cunt like her," "mhm, sir." "maybe i sho-" "you know what i just remembered? sera saying she had something to discuss with me. ill be leaving now, sir." adam shot her a confused look. it wasnt like lute to walk out on a conversation so abruptly. (spoiler alert, she just didnt want to hear adam talk about you for the millionth time today) "well, uh, shit, okay."
upon leaving, adam bumped into a familiar face.
"well, well, well, if it isn't-" you slid right past him, ignoring any advance he'd tried making towards you. "what the fuck?" adam's face grew warm from embarrassment. did you just ignore him? he planted himself in front of you, hoping to make a statement. his tall figure hovered over yours. "ignoring me, hm? is that any way to treat the first man?" he teased. you sighed and rubbed your forehead in annoyance before answering, "if by 'first man' you mean 'overly-confident egomaniac' then yes." that's what adam liked about you; you didnt kiss his ass 24/7 like all the other angels. you didnt crave his approval. "i seriously don't understand how people can tolerate being around you," you groaned.
"oh fuck off, the ladies love me," he grinned. "especially in be-" you threw your hand to cover his mouth. "ugh, spare me the details, you gross fuck." your statement only widened his shit-eating grin. "why, jealous?" he teased, dragging on the s. "fuck, no! i feel bad for all the women you've slept with, they've probably faked all their orgasms as to not hurt your fragile ego." you retorted. adam's smirk dropped. he couldn’t BELIEVE you thought he was incapable of pleasuring a woman. luckily for you, his anger quickly turned to interest as an idea popped up in adam's head. he leaned into your ear, voice low and husky, "you wanna bet on that?"
taken aback from his sudden offer , you backed up until your back hit the wall of the alley you two were in. “what,” you breathed, “are you on about?”
“if i can make you cum,” adam started, “you have to admit that one; im the dick-fuckin’-master, and two; i AM capable of pleasuring a woman. deal?” adam's said a ton of dumb shit, but this? you let out a boisterous laugh. “are you serious?” but after a few beats of unearthly silence, thats when you knew he was. “well, shit.” you did want a chance at proving him wrong and taking down his ego. to be fair, no one’s made you cum in a long, long time. and you were always up for a challenge.
you grabbed adam by the collar and dragged him down to your level.
“deal.”
———————————————————————
thats how you found yourself up against a wall, being eaten out by the first man, the first soul in heaven, and your well-known rival.
you didnt want to admit it, but god, this man was good with his tongue. not to mention his hands.
he gripped your thighs tightly, spreading them apart and smirking up at you. your flustered face drove him mad, only fueling his desire for you. its not his fault you looked so fuckin’ cute. maybe he should get you like this more often…
adam shamelessly licked up and down your entrance, earning small involuntary whimpers from you. he dragged his hand down your thigh to rub circles on your clit, making you twitch under his touch. “taste so fuckin’ good,” he growled. wanting more, you tugged at his hair, forcing his tongue to prod at your cunt. “impatient, are we? and to think you hated me.”
it was like he was waiting for this exact moment; for adam ate like a man starved. like he hadn’t eaten in days, and you were the only thing that could nourish him.
suddenly, he sunk his long tongue into your clit, “shit, adam!” he smirked against your cunt. “enjoying y’self, babe?” “f-fuck—haah—you!” was all you can manage, before he sunk his tongue deeper into you, fingers now circling your clit twice as fast. “dont worry, tits, you’ll be doing that in a bit.”
it wasnt long before you had cum all over his tongue and face, panting like a maniac. you had already lost the bet, but you didnt care. nor had any of you two mentioned it. lost in a drunken haze, all you wanted was his cock buried inside of you.
you quickly recovered from your high and grinded against his painfully hard erection. “s-shit, babe, didn’t take you for a desperate whore,” adams words were slurred, his need for you fogging his brain. “s-shut up,” you retorted “looks like you can still talk back,” he grinned. “i’ll fuck that bratty attitude out of you.” “youve yet to do so,” you teased. “you bluffing, dickmaster?” oh, now you’ve got him in a chokehold.
those would be your famous last words, before adam would recklessly pound into you.
adam quickly undid his boxers, revealing his hard cock, precum already spilling from his tip. you thought he was joking when he called himself the ‘dickmaster.’ you silently wondered how that would fit inside of you. “see how fuckin’ worked up you get me, tits?” adam babbled.
he bent you over, your wrists just above your head.
you were about to reply with a snarky comeback when he pushed his cock into you, no warning beforehand.
“i fuckin’ knew it,” he said. “tight as shit. bet no one’s fucked you as good as im about to, huh?” you wanted to respond, to deny his accusations, but the only sounds that left your mouth were desperate moans and whimpers. it was like music to his ears, fueling him to fuck you brainless.
his large size stung, but pain quickly turned to pleasure when he began to move.
he picked up his pace, pounding into you brutally. it was oh, so sinful. but adam would go to hell anyday if that meant he could have your tight little cunt all to himself.
adam took a fistful of your hair, forcing your back to arch. when you didnt protest, adam threw a line of praise at you. “there we go, good fuckin’ girl, just like that…” the position you were in was a bit uncomfortable, but you quickly stopped paying attention to that when adam thrusted into you sharply. “s-so good f’me,” he babbled.
you knew he was almost at his peak when his thrusts grew sloppy. “shit, almost there, fuck!” he groaned. “m-me too, adam, fuck,”
in one deep thrust, he buried himself inside of you, spilling his cum. you felt your stomach grow warm, full of adam’s seed.
adam was still inside of you, even after you both had came. there were no sounds other than your pants and his huffs. thank god this was an empty street.
finally, he pulled out of you. you whined at the loss of contact, earning you a cheeky grin.
“so,” he said, breaking the silence. “how was that for pleasuring a woman, hmmm?” adam smirked. “still hate me?”
“always, just a little less now.”
#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#adam hazbin#hazbin hotel adam x reader#adam x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#angel dust#hazbin lucifer#smut#dickmaster#hazbin hotel lute#sir pentious#charlie morningstar#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x you#adam x you#x reader
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𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖
𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟! 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
Toji didn’t think he’d ever change for a woman again, turns out he did for a pretty little thing like you, he just wasn’t expecting it in this way —bet you really thought the joke about him being a werewolf was funny now.
Warnings 18+ MDNI seriously. Kinktober + extremely descriptive + monsterfucking + werewolf Toji + knots + breeding + size kinks + dubcon + mirror +
Tbh this was pretty rushed and basic, but let’s be honest only here for the smut when it’s kinktober 😂🫶🏻
It started over a year ago, all over a simple wound that Toji had from what he assumed was a curse at the time.
The claw marks had ran so deep across his back it exposed bone, the blood loss was life threatening but his ignorance took him towards his home, not towards help.
That’s when you came into the picture, pretty little you.
An off duty nurse who’s happened to be walking home to meet a stumbling Toji bleeding out near the building where he lived. Being ever so loyal to her duty as a nurse you helped. He remembered your eyes, your hair, how warm and soft your hands were and he remembered how you smelt. It stood out from the cold air, the smell of fresh rain and it was weirdly comforting, a clean yet sweet smell.
You’d stopped the bleeding, getting him to hospital for treatment and all you were was a memory, some pretty thing leaning over him slumped in a way that wasn’t dignifying what so ever and especially not how he usually met women.
He healed faster than expected, way faster than anything they’d ever seen before. Within two days he was healed with nothing but a large, clawed scar down his back, from his right shoulder to his left side under his ribs.
He took himself home, a bag of take out in hand as he stood in the elevator taking him up to his floor. The other hand shoved into his pocket staring mindlessly at the ceiling panel.
When it dinged and the doors opened he stepped out, colliding with someone much smaller than him and that someone was you.
Falling back into your ass from colliding with sheer force that was Toji Fushiguro, and in true Toji style he didn’t aid your fall he very much let it happen. Looking down at you and tilting his head, green eyes staring at your incredible legs long and toned leading straight up to those pretty black lace panties you had on under the shorter loose leather skirt that had rode up.
The little lace top you had on left little to the imagination, denim jacket a little ruffled from your fall, and nice black strappy heels on with red bottoms —which he didn’t expect.
Your hair framed you, thick and wavy, all done up for your little night out. Tits pushed up and face with light make up.
It was the second time he’d ever seen you and the first time he made contact with you, lazily reaching out a hand but not bending to you —he only done it because you helped him a few days ago.
You took it letting him pull you up with such force it thrusted you into his chest and he smirked, tilting his head giving you another once over because you really were such a pretty little thing.
“Oh! You’re uh- well you’re looking much better, it was only a few days ago and they’ve released you?”
“I left.”
“You’re moving well, what are you a werewolf?”
“A werewolf?”
Toji snorted a laugh at you and you laughed waving your hand around flippantly from your goofy joke. You thought he was one who those shitty dog looking things in classic old horror films?
“I was joking, y’know? It was a big claw mark and you’re out of hospital in days with a wound that went bone deep…”
“Just a real man doll, I ain’t howling at no moon.”
It turns out you lived in the same complex as him having rich parents but still studying as a nurse, once Toji found out the money he started taking an interest because even in his late thirties he wasn’t going to change.
He thought he wasn’t anyway but you made him feel something rare —and that was feeling a lil bad about taking advantage of you. He knew from past experience with his deceased wife that he maybe had a second chance of redemption, because that’s how he started feeling with her.
Your caring nature was a given, you were a nurse, so when Toji suddenly came down with a full blown fever you’d been there again, your hands feeling colder this time on his hot skin, your voice soothing him and that smell of you was lulling him. He’d pulled you in and buried his nose into you, inhaling like an animal as he started to grope every inch of you desperately, it gave him some relief.
Apparently he was changing in more ways than just seeing you as a source of money and sex, because it turned out that in fact, Toji was howling at full moons nearly four weeks later.
It started with restlessness and a mild fever, nothing too out of the ordinary in your line of work, but it wasn’t normal for Toji —he didn’t get sick. But something was crawling under his skin, his cock throbbing under his joggers and no matter how many times he fucked it into his fist he wasn’t cumming. His hand ran through his sweaty hair, pushing it out his face as he looked down at his far above average cock, an angry red and drooling precum with his hand curled around it.
It was throbbing, rock solid, he could feel the pulsing in it and he was burning from over stimulation, the rage in lack of release was only adding to the feral feeling biting across his skin as he felt his patience all but slipping.
Then his nose caught a whiff of something, something that made his cock flex in his hand and drive an instinct he didn’t know he had. Green eyes scanned the room, landing on a top of his you’d been wearing. When he lifted it to his face he moaned, eyes rolling back into his sockets and the pleasurable pulse sent to his cock was euphoric… that sweet smell of you was opening that door he was banging against.
His hips rolled into his fist, cock sliding into it smearing the overload of precum to make a wet hole to fuck into and his pace was feral, heaving in air between inhaling the scent you’d left over it. His mind too clouded to realise what exactly he was doing but chasing only a feeling.
You didn’t last a second when you returned home after your shift in work, he’d jumped on you and fucked you like you were his life line, a feral, blind pleasure that burned under his skin, only feeling it cool when you pressed against him. Burying his face into your neck and breathing you in like oxygen.
And he felt fucking incredible, fucking you felt unworldly.
Day two he’d been running such a high fever that wasn’t going down, reaching a temperature that was almost inhuman. He’d crashed into a sleep and you’d used the opportunity to shower. The towel was ripped from you as soon as your feet entered the bedroom and you were pressed against the wall, legs thrown over his shoulders as he lifted you.
But it wasn’t Toji.
His coat was so black he blended into the darkness of the room, silver teeth bared and green eyes illuminated like the full moon.
With your back pressed to the wall and werewolf! Toji lifting you on his shoulders as your thighs tightened around his head. Your hands gripping and pulling at his black fur as that long tongue worked its magic, so long it was fucking your dripping hole and rubbing against your clit at the same time. It didn’t take long for spit and cum to run down your ass and legs as he was edging you towards cumming on him again and you bucked wildly against him.
It should be wrong —holy shit this should be wrong.
But those glowing green eyes below you were feral, those jaws so large that you literally fit between them as he ate you out. His clawed hands under your thighs to prevent him from piercing you with those almost silver-white teeth.
You couldn’t breath as your body was driven into over stimulation and he wasn’t letting up on his restless attack with his tongue.
He was growling under you, something rumbling in his chest and you could feel it vibrating on his tongue. When you tried to pull away, tried to lift yourself from him his ears flattened, his lips curled and he bared his teeth with a snarl.
The only reason you calmed were his eyes and you knew it was him, even if you wanted to fight you couldn’t but you just needed a break to breathe. He looked silly in the apartment despite how big it was, Toji was a huge man regardless but this added to the huge form that he was.
“T-Toji I ca-fuck- I can’t anymore you gotta s-stop-“
Your body thrashed with each harsh lick of his tongue, drool dripping down his chin into his coat finding the taste of your cum irresistible, the smell of you was addicting. Toji was an asshole so it wasn’t hard to ignore you begging him to stop as you couldn’t handle it anymore, he was selfish and greedy naturally but when it came to eating you out like this?
Fuck-
The tip of his tongue buried in you felt you clenching again in little pulses as you got closer, he slanted your body to one claw keeping under your thigh, the other resting on his shoulder keeping you spread open against the wall. He reached down grabbing his cock, feeling the knot forming at the base —it felt different, besides the size difference.
He fisted himself and his hips started to move in time with it.
“M’gonna cum- fuck, hah, T-Toji s’good -holy shit-“ you were slurring words that meant nothing, weightless as your vision went white and stars appeared and with perfect timing he lifted from your clit and let his entire length of his tongue fill you roughly, he looked up to see your eyes roll back and your head rolled against the wall.
“Fu-Fucking hell,”
He stroked his dick steadily as you came around his tongue, hips stuttering as your body was slack against him and the wall. Withdrawing his tongue and head he pulled back, the taste of you filling his mouth, mouth watering again at the sweetness you gave.
He literally shrugged your thighs off his shoulders, his hands gripping your ass as you slid down the wall catching you with your legs falling over his thick forearms. He angled you so his hard, upright dick pressed against your entrance, your hands gripping his biceps, lacing under the black coat and your eyes widened as you realised he wasn’t letting you catch your breath.
Regretting looking down to see he wasn’t his body that had just change but the size of his already worthy dick had doubled, pre was drooling from the slit and it was flexing angrily.
“W-wait Toji that’s too big you-“
He pressed the tip to you and pushed, panting as his green eyes watched his cock start to stretch you out and it was tight. Toji bullied his way in, his forming knot pressing against your clit, your jaw slacked and no noise left you. The stretch was painful, but with how he was pressing against your spread open clit was just enough to distract you.
Toji growled when he eyed the bulge in your stomach and he flexed inside you watching it move. Clawed hands planted against the wall behind you, either side of your waist with your legs still over his forearms, the position was awkward being wedged between the wall him like this.
“T-Toji p-please g-go easy, it’s too big I’m-“
His hard thrust back into you cut you off as your breath hitched in your throat, nails digging into his chest and your toes curled.
“You’ll take it how it comes,”
your eyes widened as you looked up at him with worry, finally hearing him speak, his own voice mixed with something else thrown in. Your body contradicting your worry, his words made you pulse around him and he chuckled, green eyes meeting yours.
Shifting an arm to snake around your waist to hold you in place as he pulled back his cock, watching the slick glistening on it and he slammed back into you, starting a pace that was cruel. Your arms wrapped around his long nose and jaws clamping them together, pulling him into your chest hugging him and pressing your forehead to his.
“Holy shi-hah, it’s too big, it’s too- I’m gonna cum, I’mgonnacum!”
You sounded panicked but all he focused on was the wet plap, plap, plap of his inhuman dick spreading you open cause it was fucking beautiful to watch. Slick and cum coating his knot as it formed a sticky link everytime it touched your clit.
And he lost it.
You only made whimpering and strangled noises as he fucked you hard, every other thrust trying to push his knot in to plug you, failing drew a pissed off snarl from him that made him pull away along with his cock.
He threw you across the room to your bed and you tried to crawl away, his grip on your ankle slid you back down the bed and in his desperation he pinned you to it, rutting clumsily against the back of your thighs and ass trying to find your pussy.
“Stay, brat-“
He snarled into your ear and you groaned into the bed as he snarled in your ear and arched your hips back, a dull ache in your cunt from being stretched so much but pulsing to have it again.
Unhappy with the position he shifted, green eyes catching himself in the huge floor length arch mirror, he gripped the backs of your thighs and pulled you up. Your back to him you reached back to grab him to balance yourself. His cock slapping against your exposed pussy as he walked to the large mirror, spreading you out. He nuzzled his nose into your neck.
“Put it in before I force it-“
You reached down pressing your fingers to the underside of his head, pressing it against yourself as he lifted you until he felt your swollen hole, impaling you on his cock, watching the bulge appear in your stomach again and he let you watch, let you see what he was seeing.
Green eyes flickering from your face to his knot bouncing against you, begging to plug you, he could feel it resisting less in this position and when he’d just had enough he paused and forced you down to take it.
Your pained whimper only spurred him on, his thrusts switching to short but hard, your body bouncing off each thrust as you went crossed eyed, drooling with only noises leaving you as he made you watch him fucking you dumb.
He gave no warning when he came, only some whine that left his throat. His hips jolting up into you as his knot swelled locking him in you.
“S’too much- m’full, no more -Toji I can’t-“
“Cum it out then,”
You were shaking against him, your whole body struggling to keep up with him like this, but it was so hot watching him plug you, fill you up and seeing that bulge in your stomach.
So you reached down, one finger rolling over your buzzing clit and your hips jolted in reaction to how sensitive it was, your nerves burning with each circle and swipe on your clit, watching your hole clenching and pulsing around him.
You came with tears streaming down your cheeks, pushing so hard his softening cock pulled from you followed by the ridiculous amount of cum he’d fucked into you.
He nuzzled into you, gracing his teeth over your neck as you came back from seeing stars, tranced by the sight of the mess he’d made of you, holding you up like you were nothing as his green eyes glowed.
“We ain’t done, doll.”
©pharix/lonelystarrs 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.
Dividers all on my side blog for credits as per 🫶🏻
#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#jjk toji#toji x you#kinktober jjk#kinktober Toji#toji x reader#jujutsu toji#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk fanfiction#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk thirsts#dilf toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#fushiguro toji#toji x y/n
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Baker Steve/Rock Star Eddie wrong number AU
Part One
Part Two
PART THREE
"It's like a TV show, but on YouTube."
"Right," Steve answers, half listening to Dustin's explanation, "so it, like what, has an air time, or whatever?"
"Yeah, like a series."
"And it's just, what, famous people playing dipshits and dickheads?"
"Steeeeeeeeeeeevvvvveeeeeeeeeeee why are you like this?"
"Dunno," Steve shrugs, trying to read a recipe online. Unfortunately that's resulted in his having to scroll past someones entire fucking life story and he's ready to give up and try and work out the dumb Oreo cake recipe himself, "just lucky, I guess."
Dustin drops his head on the kitchen counter like Steve is the greatest difficulty he's ever going to face.
"So why do you need to be here to watch this?"
"Because we all want to watch it together, the guests are Corroded Coffin, they all like, play, the whole band, it's so cool-"
"Corroded Coffin? Playing your nerd game?" Steve's interest leaks through before he can stop it, "I mean, like, I think I've heard of them?" The last thing he needs is the kids finding out he's been kind of friends kind of flirting kind of maybe wants to date the actual Eddie Munson.
Dustin looks at him skeptically, "yeah...so you-"
"You can all watch it here, it's fine...I'll make cookies."
Dustin's completely distracted by his own success, instantly whipping out his phone to inform the other kids. Steve's pretty sure their group chat is called 'No Steve's allowed' but he hasn't actually found out for sure yet.
Steve does bake cookies. All the kids are gathered around his smart TV, absolutely demolishing them while they wait for this thing to start. It's like, an actual channel, with intros and graphics and stuff, a logo that reads 'Final Roll.'
And there's Eddie and the band, sitting around a table with two dudes who must run the channel. They all have the bits of paper and dice and little figures that Steve's used to seeing when the kids commandeer his dining room table.
There's preemptive ramble, and Steve leans forward a little every time Eddie's in shot. He's relieved all the kids are all sitting in front of him and all glued to the TV, so he can ogle in peace. They do introductions, and then everyone introduces their characters.
"May I introduce Sir Steven, the half elf paladin," behind Eddie Gareth rolls his eyes so hard his whole fucking body moves. Steve can see him and Geoff mouthing something to each other. Steve can only assume it's because Eddie has named his character, presumably, after him, "he has a sworn oath to always protect those weaker than himself."
Steve's heart fucking melts.
Steve's phone is buzzing. He's prepared. He knows Eddie's back in the country, they've been talking for months. Steve's kind of done waiting, and he's ready to press his advantage. He's had this set up for a little while, just waiting for the right moment. He presses play, and then answers the phone.
"Hey Stevie how-...are you listening to Corroded Coffin?"
"Yeah, yeah," Steve turns it down, bomb dropped, trap sprung, advantage played, "the kids absolutely love them, they're trying to get me into them even though they're not exactly my thing."
"Right, ah, right, what do you, uhm, think?"
"Yeah. Still not my thing-"
"Oh."
"But I really like it when the lead guy sings."
"...yeah?"
"Yeah, not the like, shouty growly singing, I can't understand a fucking thing he's saying-" Eddie chuckles, "but like, the parts where he properly sings. I think he has a beautiful voice."
"I ah, well, I mean, I bet the, uhm, shouty bits are hard work, you know. I expect that takes a lot of, you know, practice. Hell on the throat. I imagine, I would guess anyway, I don't actually, like know-"
"No no, yeah, well, maybe he should just sing more then, save those vocal chords, or whatever. I'd like that a lot."
"Yeah?" Steve can practically hear Eddie blushing down the phone. Eddie's so cute when he goes shy.
"Yeah." There's a long beat of silence before Steve goes in for the kill, "the kids are trying to get me to go see them. They're in the states now, apparently. Will be playing a gig in Indie."
"Yeah they are- I mean, I assume they are, most bands, uhm, yeah-" And Steve is hardly holding it together, Eddie is such a bad liar, and he's trying so hard not to lie at all. Steve doesn't know how he;s keeping his tone normal and not letting the whole ass cat out of the bag.
"And the kids are absolutely itching to go, you know? But tickets man, they're all doing every chore they can find to get some extra cash, but tickets are pricey, and for eight of us? Because I'll need someone else to help me chaperone and, you know..."
"I. I might...know a guy. Maybe. Like, because of the band I might...know someone who can get you tickets."
"Seriously? Eddie that would be incredible, the kids will absolutely loose their shit."
"Yeah, ah, is your work email cool?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course of course, man, the kids are going to love you for like, forever."
And maybe I will too, Steve just about manages to keep the words inside.
@steves-yellow-cardigin @melodymeddler @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao
@superduckmilkshake @she-collects-smut @paintsplatteredandimperfect @resident-gay-bitch
#eddie munson#stranger things#steve harrington#steddie#my fic writing#fan fic stuff#fic wip#ficlet#rock star eddie munson#baker steve harrington#dungeons and dragons
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The One with the Gossip
The group is hanging out at the café, all in different conversations when Jonathan comes into the bar and flops down on the couch. Camera bag sliding off his shoulders.
“When does this place start serving alcohol?” he groans.
“In about thirty minutes,” Nancy starts, “are you ok?”
Argyle trades places with Robin, sitting next Jonathan. “That bad?”
Jonathan nods, widening his eyes. “Messiest wedding I have worked months. There were so many things and they just piled on top of each other. The amount of bridesmaids and groomsmen that had previously slept together and didn’t know about it was insane.”
Steve and Eddie turn their heads at the same time. “What now,” Eddie says intrigued.
“I love messy shit I’m not apart of,” Steve mutters under his breath.
“It was crazy,” Jonathan sits up, turning toward Steve and Eddie at the side table. “And it all started for the most stupid reason. The guys apparently had a bet when to see how many of the bridesmaids they could sleep with. And the girls didn’t know about it, and a few of them fell with their ‘charms’ and were none the wiser. Until, one of the groomsmen said who won in their speech.”
“Holy shit,” Robin says with a sip of her tea.
Eddie winces. “That is such a dick move.”
“How likely was it that they were part of those fraternities that just liked to terrorize people,” Steve asks. Having almost accidently joined one of these fraternities when he was in college.
Jonathan nods with disgust. “That only scratches the surface. The best man had won, having slept with six out of the seven bridesmaids, and he was engaged to the maid of honor.”
Everyone winces with disgust.
“Not cool, dude,” Argyle says with disappointment. “So not cool. How can people do this to other people. And think that they can get away with it.”
“Because they’re inconsiderate assholes,” Steve says at the same the same time Eddie says “They’re disgusting bags of shit.” They high five each other.
Jonathan lets out a long breath. “And I’m not done yet. It gets worse.”
“Oh my god, how,” Nancy questions.
Argyle stands. “I’ll be right back, continue without me.” He walks over to the bar and starts to talk to the barista.
“He got bonus points for sleeping with the bride. And the second-place winner, was the groom.”
“Holy shit,” everyone says in unison.
Jonathan nods with wide eyes. “And the groom got a bonus point for sleeping with his future mother in law.”
They were too stunned to speak, just letting the silence fill that moment. Argyle returns with a cup of something and places it in Jonathan’s hands.
“What did I miss?” he asks, looking at them all super confused. “Are you guys broken?”
Steve shakes his head, trying to wrap his head around what was just said. “I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”
“And this is coming from someone who has actually slept with one of his frat bro’s moms,” Robin interjects.
“On accident. And she was his stepmom, that was much younger than his dad, well after I was in college. He doesn’t know, it’s fine.”
“Did that cause another sex ban?” Eddie asks.
Steve laughs. “No, that’s when the figured out that the previous sex ban wasn’t working.”
Jonathan takes a sip of the drink Argyle gave him. “Jesus, that’s strong. Did you bribe them or something?”
“Something like that. Seriously though, what did I miss?”
“Groom slept with the future mother-in-law,” Robin fills in, Argyle winces. “What is with people?”
Jonathan shrugs. “Don’t know. But it was a big wedding that they are not getting a refund for. And I still got cake, well what was left of it.”
Eddie leans forward. “What was left of it?”
“Yeah,” Jonathan nods. “Speeches were right before cake, so the bride took the entire top layer and slammed it over the groom’s head. Followed by the maid of honor taking two giant handfuls and shoving it into the best man’s face. Arguments broke out and all that shit. I stayed back to help clean up.”
“Had they signed the marriage certificate yet?” Nancy asks.
Jonathan sighs. “No clue, don’t care. It’s over and I got paid. A lot. This was not a cheap wedding. Oh right,” Jonathan reaches down into his bag and grabs a takeout container, handing it to Argyle. “Saved you a piece of cake.”
Argyle takes it, opening it and starting to eat it. Nodding his head in appreciation.
The rest of the group looks at Jonathan. “Where’s our cake?” Robin asks, a little hurt.
“You don’t live with me, you don’t get cake.”
Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @mentallyundone, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug
#this was inspiried by a tiktok I saw#where this woman was getting her matching tattoo with her mom removed because her mom was sleeping with her husband#which yikes#that must have been a messy divorce#also jonathan in a secret gossip I firmly believe that#morgan's friends au#stranger things#stranger things au#stranger things ficlet#friends au#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#nancy wheeler#jonathan byers#argyle#pre relationships#steddie#ronance#jargyle
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idk if you write for naoya but i have an idea...maybe darling is like maki but actually weak and naoya bullies and takes advantage of them?
love your work btw!! <3
JJK ! IMAGINE
Zenin Naoya x maid ! darling
TW: yandere, mentions of abuse, bullying
Proposal Gift
Sharp hazel eyes follow you in your innocence, narrowing while he judges – concluding once again, as he’d done before, that there really isn’t a single cursed bone in you – only a humble body of warm squeezable flesh and a heart he bets is all too easy to break.
You’ve always been like that. Quick to smile and quick to cry. A bundle of emotions unfit to be raised in such a ruthless clan.
He’s a few years older than you and remembers well what a weak constitution you’ve always had. Anyone could see it, and everyone knew it from the moment you were born – you were never going to amount to much.
He used to find your weakness quite disgusting – used to push your face into the gravel until snot and tears would wet the dirt in a pitiful puddle – with his foot pressed down between your shoulder blades – sometimes until hearing a pop and shriek loud enough to echo off the walls. With words cutting even deeper – telling you what a curse you were, born so weak and so useless – a stain on the great Zenin name.
But now that you’ve grown up, he bites his tongue – silently watching with a strange type of lusty entitlement forming in his gut…
He’s only been away on a mission for a handful of months – who’d have known he’d come back to see you grown into something so… precious.
You’re the prettiest out of the maids – the cutest one too, and undoubtedly the sweetest as well. Walking about the garden where you have most of your chores – watering plants in the sun and picking herbs for healing. You’re quiet and graceful, taking slow steps in your plank shoes that knock softly on the tiles where you peacefully wade through the maze in a pretty flower-patterned yukata.
You look nothing like the snot-nosed brat he’d left in the dirt. You have a swell of breasts now and a feminine face wiped clean of soot – painted with pretty red on your lips and fresh blue on your eyes.
You’re a lady now.
And while your weakness used to disgust him, he’s now realizing what a blessing it is instead. Smirking the more he glares at you – now sitting on a bench in the shade doing some hand stitching, knowing no ill will – he understands he’s quite lucky you turned out such a fragile little thing.
“Naoya-sama-” You spluttered, eyes widening into big round glass orbs.
Jumping to your feet, you nearly threw your needlework down on the bench before folding your fingers together and bowing – much lower than necessary – with a rush that could only be excused with fear.
You hadn’t known he was back yet and felt the surprise like a vice grip wrapped tight around your throat.
Swallowing thickly, you made your excuse while maintaining your bow, praying he’d show you mercy. “Pardon my lack of awareness- I was absorbed in my chores, you see- please forgive me-”
He folded his hands within his pants and raised his chin with a smirk at your spluttering, licking his teeth in enjoyment at your pretty display of courtesy. Eyeing you for a long moment before speaking, mainly to watch you begin to tremble in the wait – cutely dreading the bite of his punishment.
But punishing you wasn't what he was interested in at the moment.
“You’re not in maid robes.” He said instead, ignoring your previous stuttering. His face, jaded with a tone just as callous, aided by that weighty air of authority he always has surrounding him – the one that never fails to make your skin feel raw in the cold.
“Oh-” You fumbled, halting at his lack of anger – wary of the unexpected behavior as it was pretty odd for him not to jump at the opportunity to punish someone like you if and when the chance presented itself.
Though, it wasn’t yet decided he wouldn’t do just that – the way his steely and strangling presence nearly knocked you over with its vicious intensity alone – staring you down sharply with that otherwise smooth hazel.
In return, you had your doe-eyes yielding and down-cast, eying your fabrics with a bite to your lip – trying to keep your voice from shivering while uttering the next line, heat in your cheeks while at it. “These are- uhm- proposal gifts I’ve been asked to wear.”
He snorted at that, and you flinched at the abrasive sound – eyes shifty while eyeing the ground, lowering your head some more, looking down at the paint on your toenails instead.
“From whom?” He asked a beat later.
Your brows pinched at his curiosity and how awfully unlike him it was. Naoya-sama had never struck you as the type to make trivial conversation, especially with the likes of you.
“I’m- uhm- not exactly sure…” You confessed, twiddling your fingers. “You see, Father doesn’t want to confuse me- after all… it’ll be his decision in the end, anyway.”
You kept your head bowed while explaining, feeling awkward before him. Trying to think of a time when he’d paid any type of regard to you or your life – remembering none.
“B- but my marital status must be of no interest to you, Naoya-sama.” You blurted then, finding it to be a rather strange matter to discuss with him of all people.
But all the man responded with was a slight hum, keeping his gaze on you and the way you timidly glanced up at him only to look away when seeing him stare back.
Ears burning, you chewed and sucked your lip under his glare, thinking of how badly you’d witness him beating other maids – having needed to treat many a cut and gash and bruise and broken bone he’d left on bodies much smaller than himself – not to mention the ones on your own frail self he’d given you in your youth.
“Please excuse my arrogance-” Your memory prompted you to gush. “Doing anything but welcome you home from your mission is rude of me- I heard you lead our clan into many victories- you must be very proud.”
You decided to try you r luck charming him instead, hoping it could sway him from the urge to hurt you.
“Or maybe it doesn’t come as a surprise anymore. You’ve always been rather strong, after all.” You continued but choked on it only a second later – spurring with yet another apology on your lips. “That was thoughtless of me to say- you should feel proud either way- please forgive me for my stupid words, Naoya-sama- I fear the heat has gone to my head and made a complete airhead out of me…”
But despite the obvious hints of regret and panic in your draining face, the man gave no indication of even having heard what you’d said until offering your ramble another rather unusually relaxed response.
“It’s true.” He agreed – much to your surprise, where you’d braced your face for a backhand and your stomach for a gut punch. “It’s become boring.”
You dared glance up at him through the lashes of your bow – only to see his face still as expressionless as always – a type of stone-cold that made the hairs at your nape rise.
“Still… you must be tired from the trip, if not the mission” You softly started in spite of it – hoping to end the conversation soon. “You shouldn’t stay out here in the sun for too long…” You tried, praying he couldn’t see straight through your intentions. “And- uhm- I should really hurry along- help prep supper for you and your soldiers with the other maids.” You excused, once again bowing your head, waiting for his nod of dismissal – ever relieved when he gave it.
You swallowed your tremors, feeling lightheaded and dizzy while offering up whatever type of smile you could muster.
“It was good seeing you, Naoya-sama.” You lied. “Welcome home.”
You bowed yet again, dismissing yourself before turning and leaving him.
He kept his eyes fixed on you despite it. Observing the distressed spring in your step and how it disturbed the former peace you walked the gardens with earlier.
A smile inched up his face watching it.
You look very nice in his proposal gift.
He looks forward to having you in his bed.
tip-jar: Kofi
#yandere naoya zenin#yandere zenin#yandere zenin naoya#yandere naoya#yandere jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen#naoya zenin#naoya x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#yander naoya zenin#zenin naoya
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I've never asked anyone in my entire tumblr presence, I'm excited you'll be the first, even if it doesn't get done 🙏☆♡🥬
Anyways, I feel like there is a very sad amount of Soap content on here so like..idk maybe pining Soap fluff??
He's totally the type of guy to follow someone around like a lovesick puppy and everyone notices except the person of interest LOL
Congrats on the milestone btw!! You deserve it 😼😼
—Oblivious Pining
⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ
╰┈➤ ❝ [Johnny hangs off you like a silent beast. Not that you would notice, of course.] ❞
Everyone had seen it, and at this point, it had just become painful. The soft, gentle eyes—the instantaneous smile whenever your unit showed up, your form not for a second missed to those cobalt blues. The deepening color of his cheeks was another tell, along with how he would clear his throat whenever your eye caught his, quickly looking away as if a teenager sneaking glances at his crush.
Which was what precisely was happening, actually—minus the teenager part.
But the worst of it was that you had absolutely no clue.
Perhaps it was because you’d grown so used to his teasing attitude, or even his touches or his open expressions, but you, truly, hadn’t the faintest clue that those actions were Johnny’s way of saying he was interested in you. You went about your joint missions together, touching shoulders and smiling widely, and everyone was about ready to go right back to war just so the two of you could stop it with the puppy eyes already.
“I’m losing my mind,” Gaz utters, blinking in rapid succession at the two forms as they walk side by side across the tarmac. “I am absolutely losing my damn mind.” The exasperation can be taken and scooped with a spoon. The Sergeant gestures with his hand. “Are they bloody blind? Both of them?”
“Seems like it,” the Captain grunts, eyes narrowed and arms crossed as Soap’s hand comes up and ruffles your hair, you swat him away and playfully punch his shoulder. The Scot fake balks back in imaginary pain.
Price rubs a hand over his beard with a sigh as Ghost blankly stares from behind them, leaning back against the base’s walls. The Lieutenant breathes out, “Fuckin’ hell. Gonna be dead ‘fore these bastards figure it out.”
Your unit was sharing most of the same looks, rolling their eyes and placing bets once more on whether one of you would make a move. Across the way your face is comfortably heated, heart hammering and yearning for something more. Johnny thinks the same as he chuckles, one hand going to itch at the side of his head.
“Well, it was more than good to see you again, Dearie.” He says, and you huff a laugh. “There’s nothing better than watchin’ you work, eh?”
It’s a tease laced with truth, and you shift your feet, trying to hide the sudden flip of your intestines.
“Quit it, MacTavish,” your smile is infectious, and you send a glance at the setting sun before your smirk gradually grows. “In my opinion, you all hot and sweaty beats that out of the park.”
“Oh, aye,” the Scot cockily tilts his head, raising a brow as his stubble moves back. “Know it does.”
You chuff, head looking away in childish glee. “You’re impossible.”
“Ah,” he licks his lips, leaning back on his heels. “Don’t worry now, Little Lady, I’m all yours to figure out—I promise.” The flirting was a constant from both parties, and neither of you tired of it.
A small silence grew, and over the course of the last month or so, the pauses had become more and more frequent when the want to speak prevailed, but no one knew what exactly to say. You both blink at one another, noticing that you’ve both been staring heavily.
Johnny’s throat clears, and he licks his lips before quickly looking away; you awkwardly chuckle and decide that his vest is the most interesting thing in the world.
Both small teams want to bash their heads into a wall.
“I’ll be seeing you?” Johnny sighs softly, speaking as his accent grows deeper with thought. He wanted to scold himself for his cowardness but had no idea that you were doing the same.
“Of course,” you nod firmly. “I’m not as big of a fool to ignore my favorite Demolitions Expert.”
“You’re makin’ go all shy now, ya little beast,” Johnny levels, his cheeks gaining a reddish hue.
You spare a laugh, and that silence once more returns. He wants to tell you, but he’s not sure how, and that itself makes his body tense with indecision—tell you the truth, or live with his own hesitation on your answer. Spare the man, he was too blind to see how much you already adored him.
Blinking away, you clench your jaw and hold out your hand. “Until next time, Sergeant.”
Johnny smiles lightly, eyes going soft. There were so many things he’d accomplished in his life by running head-long into them; by barging down doors and thinking of an exit while his foot was already halfway outside. But this…this he didn’t mind taking his time with.
You were worth every second.
Johnny gently grasps your hand, squeezing it as he hums, lips twitching. The teams would have to wait in their annoyance for another day.
“Until next time, Dearie. Don’t be a stranger.”
#cod#cod x reader#call of duty#cod x you#cod mw22#x female reader#mw2#mw2 2022#call of duty x you#cod x female reader#x fem!reader#soap call of duty#john soap mactavish#soap mw2#soap cod#soap mactavish#soap x you#soap x reader#johhny soap mactavish#soap mactavish x reader#john mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish#johnny soap mctavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#cod mw2#john mactavish#mw x reader
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Let's talk about Yan! TWST!
The Yan that enjoys inflicting pain on you would be...
Riddle doesn't see the charm of hurting you and so are his card soldiers. But, that doesn't mean Riddle will not hurt you dear, oh noooo, do you remember the time your guardian punished you with something that hurt physically? A pinch on your forearm or a smack by the ruler? Take that double-fold.
"Now now, what did I say about standing straight?" Riddle fixes your posture with his staff before eyeing you from head to toe, "I assume you've been good today, you are safe from the... unsavory punishment, I'd say."
Cater can understand the charm of it, I mean, he enjoys biting you every now and then playfully! Now Imagine what if he does it with a different intention, hm?
Trey is, hm, 50/50. Just like Riddle except that part of him secretly loathes the fact that he wishes he could do more for you but that won't do good. He is not supposed to act like this.
The ADeuce duo? They are wholesome babies who just sometimes enjoy bullying you, just sometimes! Maybe a poke and prod here until it suddenly escalates into something that actually hurts you. Will immediately realize that and apologize to you nonstop.
Leona? You bet you got lots of bite marks and scratch marks! He treats you like his chewing toy and he loves it! Well, part of his sadistic side will sometimes take over and turn this into a much darker turn.
"Hey, come now, don't trouble me from having to find you, herbivore. Stop hiding unless you want me to drag you out with my fangs."
Ruggie and Jack don't really get it. Aren't they supposed to treasure and protect those who they love? Sure, the animalistic sides of marking might come every now and then but that's as far as it goes.
Alright, the Tweels are right off the bat. Any kind of pain honestly, physically and mentally. You get the drill.
"What do you say if we turn you into a literal shrimp? Maybe... bend your back until you look like one, shrimpy?"
"Kukuku, that is a great idea though I am worried about the aftereffects."
And the person who would be opposed to this would be the Octopus, Azul.
He prefers his angelfish to be unscratched unlike those brutes after all (Though he understands why they love seeing your fear-stricken expression, it truly has its own charm.)
"You two! Stop playing around and go back to work if you have the time to bother them! ... Hey, are you alright?" Azul will check on you and tend to any bruises they leave after they are gone.
put that chain down! Real talk here though? Both Kalim and Jamil are on the same flavour but they leave different aftertaste.
Now I know Kalim is such a sunshine baby that is soooo sooo, free of threat and won't even have the thought of hurting you for fun. But what if he has no other choice but to do this...? Now he doesn't take any form of pleasure from this but what I'm trying to say is that he is not below from hurting you indirectly.
Take it when he feels the need to chain you down, should he let the others do this dirty deed or should he do this himself? The idea of someone else hurting you makes him sick but so does the idea of him having to immobilize you!
"I'm really sorry but I just, have no choice! I'll make it up to you, name anything you want and I'll give it to you in a blink! Everything... but leaving me... then I will grant it to you like a magic lamp..."
In Jamil's case though he just resorted to this method should his paranoia reach a certain extent. What if you leave him even though he hasn't done anything much for you at all? Should he charm you with his UM or... should he just straight up immobilize you and lock you away in the dorm, away from privy eyes? Or maybe should he shamelessly ask for Kalim's assistance in sending you to Scalding Sands for the time being?
"Rest assured, Najma will be there for you."
The Hunter, Rook. Now listen to me, no he doesn't find any pleasure in the same way the Tweels do. Take him as a hunter, only wounding you to keep you immobile and that's all, he'd prefer to not wound you at all to ensure your beauty unscratched like a taxidermized animal!
The people who would go against this would be Vil and Epel! Come on now, really? He'd rather inflict emotional and mental pain than this! How is he supposed to cover the bruises, let alone if it remains as a scar?
"Rook! What did I tell you about not leaving any mark on them? Can't you just ever listen?"
"Aha, I'm so sorry~! It's just that they have been hopping around like a rabbit so I had no choice but to treat them as one."
As for Epel, he just doesn't see the charm in causing any pain to his dearest darling at all. He prefers seeing you smiling and laughing rather than crying. Oh gosh, these sick fucks are questionable!
"Even so, you shouldn't retort to this method! Oh no... it hurts so much, right...?"
Do not touch Ortho in the wrong way but damn this murder bot is on the loose. He will most definitely be doing the dirty job here for Idia like dude, he will stun you right on the spot should his system detect any suspicious movements and signs of doing something dumb.
Idia on the other hand is pretty neutral about this. Yeah, comatose, knocked out cold. Cool. You shouldn't have done that, noob, can't you at least make a plan that will allow you to evade Ortho's sight of view? Not like the phone he gave you will not save him from this trouble though.
"You thought you could sneak out of an enemy base camp that easily? You gotta at least watch the walkthrough from start to finish, anyway, off we go... to the enemy's underground chamber."
He'd prefer things to be as solace as possible so I think he doesn't enjoy partaking in this trope with these sadistic bitches. (He's just a silly meow meow after all)
Lilia has a kink in marking you with his fangs and it shows~ That, is on the playful note, what about the much darker note? Moments when the fistfight you two share turns into an uncontrollable fight that allows him to cut you with his nails and punch you right in your guts, hard, until you choke out.
"Ah~? Sorry, did I go too hard? I forgot that your body is now just as fragile as a stuffed doll!" He'll shrug it off playfully while relishing in your state for a moment before helping you ^^ (Ah, he misses those good' ol days so dearly!)
Malleus, Silver, and Sebek though? They are shaking their heads at Lilia but can't say anything about it.
Malleus sees this as a way to keep you still next to him, maybe by spraining your ankle or slamming your head so that you are knocked out.
Silver on the other hand does not lay a single finger on you with the intention of hurting you, at all! Cinnamon baby! huhuhu.
Sebek? After watching Lilia and Malleus, he deems this to be some sort of disciplinary action! He takes pride in it while secretly pushing away the guilt of hurting you and the fact that he was enchanted by the teary sight of you.
Divider Credit: @edith-is-a-cat
I have favorites and it shows. (Lilia)
#yandere#ace trappola#deuce spade#cater diamond#trey clover#leona kingscholar#ruggie bucchi#jack howl#Azul Ashengrotto#kalim al asim#Jamil Viper#vil schoenheit#epel felmier#rook hunt#idia shroud#malleus draconia#twst silver#sebek zigvolt#Lilia Vanrouge#twisted wonderland#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland#twst#twst writing#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#Riddle Rosehearts#Jade Leech#Floyd Leech#Ortho Shroud#Yandere x Reader
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