#but in a way i'd rather not admit or something i don't like about myself that makes me like her less. curious
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౨ৎ SPINE BREAKER
fem! reader x nerdy! choso
᭝ synopsis : who knew you just needed good dick from a nerdy boy to lose that attitude.
᭝ tags: smut & little angst? uni (both in their 20s), reader is kind of a minx but you'll pick that up.. (well, all reader's friends are) porn w plot would've guessed, oral sex (f), pussyjob, unprotected (pull out game 10/10), uhh sweet choso duh <3
᭝ wc: 11.5k ...
᭝ notes: t'was supposed to be a one-scene typa oneshot but got carried away - blame it on nerdy! choso. (i remixed that shit 4 times)
"shoko.."
"what is it?"
"no need to put these under my nose i've told you, i'm not coming." you slap her hand away gently, she's holding two entries for a random party in town.
"oh but you will." she smiles.
you know you will, you always do.
"c'mon i have two entries? i can't waste them."
"exactly, ask yuki to come with you."
"she also bought two entries, she's already coming with someone else."
you give her a quizzical look,
"i don't know any better, she didn't say."
"she's probably inviting aoi over again, God.. another reason to not come.." you shake your head at the sole thought of the man.
"who's that?" she says, switching up outfits in front of her as she ponders in front of the mirror.
"y'know that meathead eccentric guy who's like, super fan of her,"
"ohh, that one.." she hums in thoughts "mh, i doubt it though. the last time he was here, he didn't leave with that same smug face. if he keeps getting into trouble the way he does, I doubt she'll invite him back."
she's referring to the last time yuki invited aoi to one of these parties, not to sugarcoat anything but he definitely learnt the hard way to not be an arrogant show off.
"i hope not." you mumble
"stop trying to find excuses. you're coming with me, we're gonna have a good time, end of story."
you let out a crude laugh, "let me rephrase. you're gonna have a good time, and i am gonna get bored out of my mind." you can see her roll her eyes, "i don't even see the point of going there."
"because you don't try to have fun."
"if trying to have fun implies rubbing myself on some smelly drunk strangers with shitty ass songs in the background, then yeah i'd rather not try."
"you're no fun, it's not that bad."
"it's not that bad until you reach your fifth drink" you quick back as you cross your arms over your chest as if to withdraw from this endless battle that you know, will defeat you.
"aren't you being a little dramatic, now?" shoko barely looks at you with raised eyebrows. she knows as well as you do that beyond her tolerance limit she's no longer controllable, which is why you've spent many nights taking her home and trying - as best you could - to bring her back safe and sound. she won't admit it though.
you dismiss the (probably) rhetoric question, "since yuki's coming, why do you want me to go so bad?"
"what a silly question." she sighs as if she'd heard a child say the most gullible nonsense, "i like having you around, that is all."
"something is tellin' me you don't wanna end up third wheeling," you sing song.
"shut up.. you're coming anyway." she avoids your stare and lets out a heavy sigh, "you like the blue one?" she twirls the dress on its hanger around and turn over to face you, she tilts her head on the side as if to weight your future answer.
"i like the purple better."
"that's what i was thinking.."
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
being confided in the car with a loquacious shoko didn't help the growing headache you felt in the back of your skull. it had been a tough week.
your exams were approximately in a week and just thinking about it actively made your head hurt even more, and your throat tightened with culpability.
"hey, don't die on me now." shoko glares at you from the side as she's driving to the house. you feel her checking you multiple times.
"i'm fine," you sigh, rubbing your temples in an attempt to soothes the growing pain – that eventually worsened when shoko suddenly hit the brakes, a bit too abruptly to your liking, at a stop sign.
"girl, you either need a good night sleep or some good dick." she clicks her tongue, "look at you," she emphasizes by shaking her head as if the sole sight was too much for her.
"focus on not getting us crashed already."
"i'm serious though, you want some water?"
"no–no, i told you i'm okay." you look ahead of you, resting your head against the headrest for some support ; flashes of cars and traffic lights interacting in the night, "you drive like shit though."
"wow. okay, you'll show me how much of a good driver you are when you'll drive me back tonight, yeah?" she chuckles, taking a second turn on a new avenue.
"having you drunk in the back of the car is a constant fight of trying to not make you throw everything up, of course i have to drive nicely."
you see your friend nodding as she taps her fingers on the steering wheel, apparently at loss of words.
"mhm, thanks?"
you relax back with a content smile, "i prefer that,"
the house is not so far from your respective apartments, also not far from your university, which is around a fifteen minutes drive.
you can't really be mad at shoko for dragging you to those places ; the kind of places where she often ends up with a grain of lucidity to keep her half upright, while all the rest of her cognition makes her look like a psychotic out of an asylum. and even though you're practically always the one driving her back to her place, it doesn't exclude the fact that you need this sometimes.
despite your complaints of not wanting to go with her – for various reasons that you listed prior, but also because of your upcoming exams that are sucking the energy directly out of you – you still kind of look forward to the evening, if you're being honest. it gives you the opportunity to sit back and suspend the course of time for an evening, as ephemeral as it is.
the car stops at a red light as you think back to shoko's words, back in her room.
"yuki still didn't tell you about her special guest ?" you mindlessly ask as you fix your makeup by looking in the mirror of the sunshade, curling your eyelashes with the edge of your index to fix them.
"nope, i might have an idea though.." she pauses, you don't say anything as you wait for her to continue, "you know that guy she hangs out with sometimes? she's not like always with him but i don't think she'd invite anyone else, knowing her.."
"what guy?" you frown, you close the sunshade to look at her.
"uhh, black hair, pale skin, really quiet too. one of those snobs who behaves like termites by staying in their hole, you know. i don't even think i've ever talked to him, or seen him talk for that matter." she squints her eyes to reminisce old memories but the sudden shift of color on the traffic lights makes her focus back on the road.
"like what? a sorta depressed emo boy or something?" you scoff.
she laughs, out of mockery for your credulity it seems, "pretty close. but he's really.. the nerdy type y'know? the type to sit there and not say a word unless spoken to about some stupid nerdy shit, i guess."
"as long as he doesn't talk about fuckin' uni or something like that tonight, i'm good." you sigh at the thought as you close your eyes, clearly ignoring the silent warnings in her eyes.
"oh girl, you're such a fucking minx."
you ignore her offense when you continue your interview, "why would she invite him though? i mean why would he even come?"
"why did you?"
you keep silent.
"exactly," she states, "now keep your curiosity to yourself, you're about to find out."
after a few bends leading to the far end of town, you then remark the students crowding the lawn, stepping everywhere as some of them walk to the entry of the house.
no wonder you had to pay entries to get to some crackhead student party – you understood when you saw the size of the house and how many people there was. you silently hoped there was no one around as they would probably spend one hell of a night.
"not too far, i don't wanna have to carry you fifty meters tonight." you warn as shoko tries to find a good parking spot.
she sends you a hard glare and mumbles something inaudible that almost sounds like an insult. she seems to comply anyways as she parks not to far from the entry.
you were met with fresh air as you stepped outside the car, the extremities of your skin growing cold as well as your bare legs barely warming up with the strides you were taking. it was only eight in the afternoon and yet, you already saw wobbly people trying to walk their way out of the house. the two of you approach the path leading to the house, hearing the music as it gradually intensifies.
"there," shoko throws the car keys to you as you catch them hardly in your hands, "in case i lose them during the evening, you're in charge." you don't say anything, you'll have to drive back home anyways.
the calm atmosphere of an april evening was replaced without much transition as you walked past the open doors. the lights of the traffic lights now seemed far less stimulating in comparison to the sight in front of you. and paradoxically, your headache had disappeared, making you guess it was indeed, shoko's driving.
shoko turned around and took your hand to lead you through the numerous ponds of people hovering the place, talking, singing, dancing or even making out grossly. your steps grew heavier – whether from the combined heat of everyone weighing down on you or the vibrations of the boosted bass – it felt as if you were clearly reaching the pit of hell, both physically and symbolically.
and you could feel that with every steps forward, requiring the unsolicited touch of people brushing past you. the odors coming on play for less than a few seconds to merge with your own scent, just to disappear as soon as it entered past your nostrils. the lights changing from blue to purple to pink or even red, reflecting on the few skin shoko was showing with her slip dress as she was leading the way.
to say you were getting overstimulated was understandable. it was like getting thrown into a pit with only hungry lions to face; and with that dramatic metaphor you noted that the first lion you'd have to fight tonight, was the woman in front of you.
once you both reached what seemed to be the main saloon – though it was hard to decipher with the ton of people and the lack of furniture, beside some occupied couches. you didn't even know who was hosting the party to be fair, it seemed to change every other week like some sort of competition of who's gonna have the privilege to clean the big mess next morning – although you'd guess they probably have someone to do just that.
you were so focused on the environment you didn't even see the golden shadow passing by when a pair of fingers snapped you out of your illusion.
"you look like it's your first time at the zoo."
by the tone and voice you wouldn't even need to turn around. yuki looks at you with crossed arms in a sleeveless black turtleneck and flare jeans with a hint of a smile – out of friendliness or amusement, you didn't know.
"definitely feels like it," you smile back as you reach out to embrace her, which she welcomes.
"i see, shoko brought you here just to be her cab home then hm?" she tilts her head ignoring the way shoko snapped her head in her direction.
"hey don't say that! i wanted her company t–"
she gets interrupted by a loud noise, not seemingly coming from the music but by someone who just seemed to crash down on a wooden coffee table – one of the furniture you had such a hard time to see apparently because some people decided to stand on it. both girls in front of you roll their eyes almost in sync.
"well, looks like the alcohol's kicking in. you're coming with me?" yuki addresses to shoko and you.
"yeah i need to get something, i don't like how aware i am right now." shoko shakes her head in disapproval of the events.
the three of you approach the kitchen, where all the drinks stand upright and ready to use like weapons of war laid out on a table.
you don't venture into drink design, preferring to leave it to shoko or yuki, who apparently know best what they're doing since they're arguing over whether pineapple or cranberry would be more suitable to mix with vodka. once the ingredients are mixed, you all take a sip to mark the start of your evening.
"ew what the–" your body shudder lightly from disgust as you lower your hand over the counter, "tastes like piss seriously.." you whine and look at the wrongdoer.
"told you pineapple was a bad choice." yuki restates, but she's ignored by shoko, who takes the cup from your hand and pours the contents into her own cup.
"fuckin' alcoholic.." you breathe out in amusement.
"i paid for these, might as well make it worth my while." shoko rejoins and it makes you think..
"hey yuki, talking about entries, where's your guest?"
she takes another sip before answering through the music as she leans over, "he told me he wanted to use the bathroom, he went upstairs i think but.." she looks around, ".. i don't see him around, maybe he's stuck in there or something." she shrugs as if it were the most banal piece of information.
you naturally frown at the answer and at her lack of interest as to where her friend might be, so does shoko as she flicks yuki's forehead – earning an annoyed grunt from her victim.
"you can talk about me, you don't even care about your friend."
"he's a dude girl, if he's staying up there there's a reason. i'm sure he's fine," she shrugs once again with round eyes devoid of any remorse.
as they continue to argue mindlessly you sneak your hand on the counter, gliding it across the surface to grab discreetly yuki's cup, probably much tastier with cranberry, and retrieve it back to walk away and leave them to their incessant vindictive promises.
you're sure when you come back they'll still be on their feet – at least you'd like to put this much faith in them – as you rush through agglutinated people to get past the stairs. you don't really know why you're going, maybe you could say he picked your interest ; the thought of a guy like him in the middle of the evening just reminds you of a lamb around a horde of wolves.
you take a couple more sips from your cup and climb the stairs, squeezing past a heated couple making out in the middle of it. you follow down the corridor to find a multitude of doors, and one at the end of it that would be the perfect prototype of the bathroom at the end of a corridor. once you reach it you lean in to rest your ear against the door, trying to gauge potential noises, but nothing.
you smooth your denim skirt down and readjust your purse on your shoulder. you knock once, then twice – over the music you're practically not able to hear your own knocking – until your press your fingers down on the locker slowly, peeking through the door but you're only welcomed with pitch black.
maybe he just got lost among people, or maybe he was one of the ones you saw vomiting their guts out outside – which is less probable, but not impossible. you don't really feel like acting like a detective and exploring every nook and cranny, for fear of also finding yourself in front of people fucking in one of the rooms, so you prefer to turn back on your heels, giving up on the mission you thought would spark up your evening a little bit.
but it doesn't really go as planned actually. as you walk back towards the stairs, you notice a door open ajar, as if to let in a trickle of air, so you don't pay it much attention, but it's only when you start to look away that you see the previously motionless shadow, move.
it's quite honest to think that it's the first effects of the alcohol that are starting to take effect, a blurry vision in addition to poor lighting – results are not promising. you pause in your steps once more, tightening your fingers around your cup as you tilt your head so that you can look through the doorway without acting too much like a voyeur.
that's when you see him. rather tall figure standing up with the major help of big boots, black trousers with a black shirt – or maybe the colors are tainted by the darkness of the room, barely lit up by an amber light. and you do notice the signature buns with a few strands falling on his forehead.
his movements are so ever delicate you're having a hard time to decipher if the stability of your vision is playing tricks on you, or if it's really the slowness of his movements. one of his hands reaches over the shelf, he grabs a book and opens it. so careless.
"didn't know you were also a creep." you open the door without warning, with your cup in a hand and it makes you think that you probably look like some drunken mess barging in a room.
he drops the book on the ground.
"fuck!" his panicked eyes dart to you, pretty purplish eyes, "i'm sorry— shit. i didn't mean to pry." he picks up the book from the ground, bending his knees to grab it softly.
"if anything, i was the one prying." you comment, entering the room. and.. oh? what a sight you're welcomed with. it's a crime to not have seen this man on campus before – or maybe that's his crime to decide to stay inside his room with such a pretty face. his eyebrows are still brought near the center of his forehead, a faint look of worry that doesn't seem to disperse as the seconds pass.
it's also shoko's crime not to have mentioned the few silver jewels adorning his lips and eyebrows, or the charcoal mark layered upon his nose and spread horizontally along the length, covering both cheeks. and maybe there's another crime to add to your list when his tired eyes look away from you, trying to find some sort of distraction, anywhere but on you.
"i wasn't doing anything, i swear." his voice is coated with the sweetest tones though it's deeper than you'd expected – such a contrast with his face.
"careful, there's no better way to appear guilty than with this sentence." and you swear you can see a light frown on his face. you take a couple more steps towards him, he stands still, the book still in his hand as it's closed and tightly wrapped around his fingers.
you reach for the book lazily, and you take good care to not try any brusque movements. it's like you're walking on thin ice and you just start to realize how quieter it got in the room, with the buzzing of music barely heard and a few people chanting way too far.
he doesn't even try to fight it, the book slips past his fingers easily as you grab it, "The Picture Of Dorian Gray". classic. he looks down at you silently, a bit too long as if he's realized something.
"are you planning to come down?"
he shoves his hands in his pockets, shifting part of his weight on one foot in a slightly awkward manner, "i don't really feel like it."
"why is that?" you put the book right in the empty space, where you guess it previously was, squished between the other books.
"i don't really enjoy.. this." he nods to the door.
"what do you enjoy then?"
he runs his tongue over his piercing, wetting his lips and smothering the silver ring with it in the process as he ponders, then locks eyes with you finally.
"not parties at least."
"mhm, i would've guessed."
the room was strangely not that big compared to the house, a very sober room that must have been for guests, at least no personal decorations were visible. you approached the window to watch the racket outside and you found yourself glad to be upstairs at the sight.
"yuki was getting worried though." you know it's not true, but you're trying your best, you really are.
he turns around to face you, still not moving an inch from his initial position though, "oh so you're one of yuki's friend? the one she said would come?"
"it depends on whether she talked about a little pain in the ass or a cheeky cynic."
"she used the term.. « bothersome minx », if i recall."
you chuckle softly and put your cup down on the windowsill, gliding it on the side as you turn to look at him. he eyes you up and down, tapping his fingers along his thighs and you're not sure if you are in good shape due to the previous consumption or if he's just being the analytical man he's known to be.
"what's your name?"
"choso."
"choso.." you introduce yourself as well, he repeats your name just the same, "wanna sneak out?"
"what do you mean? like right now?"
"yeah, why not? i mean you can stay in that room as long as you want but i doubt you'll have much fun." he turns his head to glance at the door lazily, gauging the proposal.
"what are we gonna do?"
"i don't know, we'll see." you shrug with a smile and you're not sure if playing the russian roulette with him is gonna get you anywhere but you're too interested to play it safe.
"hm, i want to be back for yuki though, she's gonna need a ride home."
"you will." you say simply, but choso raises his eyebrows, waiting for more based arguments rather than a simple affirmation. so you continue,
"we can just take the car, drive for a couple of minutes and you'll be back here before you even notice."
there's a few seconds of silence where you both look at each other, expecting an answer. he sighs, lowering his head and you think he's about to decline your invitation but..
"alright, but just for some time."
you can't help but grin widely, you eagerly dig in your purse for the car keys shoko gave you and take quick steps towards the exit. as you wait for him on the doorstep you see him take a few strides, but towards the windowsill where you previously were standing. he grabs the drink you left dismissively, his jacket on the bed, and throws your empty cup in the bin just in the corner of the room as he walks back towards you.
he smiles gently at you and closes the door behind the two of you.
you practically had to fight your way through the crowd waiting for you downstairs. you thought the hardest part would be getting through to the front door, but once outside you found yourself in a quandary as you had to tiptoe to avoid stepping on any garbage, sticky liquids or dead drunks on the lawn.
choso asked you if you were able to take the wheel, you told him yes, of course – you'd only had one drink that had barely shaken you. he insisted on driving anyway.
the place where you had him taken was one of the only ones not too far away that was still open at this hour; and especially one that didn't look like a crowded bar.
a small café-restaurant run by a woman who was far too old to still be on her feet serving until late at night – but she always did it with too much care that you always resigned yourself to going there, even if the prices were higher.
the car ride had been remotely silent, with only a few instructions as to the routes to take and choso asking you if you wanted to put the heat on.
you took your seats on the colorful banquettes, waiting for the woman to come and take your order. the contrast was quite ironic, seeing you and choso dressed for some fancy evening in a place that was very reminiscent of that kind of little retro restaurant in the 50s, with the famous jukebox playing ballads from Elvis Presley, and the endless greasy hot dogs displayed on the counter.
"didn't think you'd follow a stranger blindly,"
he rests his forearms on the table and bring his eyes back on you as they were occupied scanning the place, "you're no real stranger, you're yuki's friend after all."
"oh i'm sure you were the kinda kid to enter some random white van." you say, more to yourself though as you look at the menu briefly. he doesn't say anything in return, and you don't look up either to see if he's looking at you or not.
"tell me choso," his name is like the ring of a bell, his eyes widen just a little, "how come i've never seen you around? you're on campus right?"
"mhm, i guess," he opens his mouth as if to start a sentence but he soon renounces by closing it immediately, he reaches for his nape to massage it, "i guess i don't really hang out around campus."
"majoring in?"
"computer science."
you would have bet your entire fucking fortune on it. you let a smile slip through.
"um, you're friends with gojo satoru too, right?"
the question definitely surprises you, everyone knows who's satoru, and that's not to his advantage as he's more or so known for being one hell of a jerk. you nod and he takes a deep breath, one that speaks volumes.
"i know what he says about me, you know. i just don't want you to think i'm like that." he admits and the sight almost makes you frown, you don't know if it's pity or empathy but you shake the feeling away.
"what do you think he says about you?"
he pauses for a few seconds, he's quick to bring his hands around his ear piercing, fidgeting with them as he relaxes back against the banquette, he finally crosses his arms over his chest.
"they say things that aren't necessarily wrong but aren't totally true either."
when he says they, he's probably referring to shoko, or maybe suguru if you think about it, though he doesn't seem to care about people's business that much.
you'll blame choso's inability to communicate properly for his ambiguous answers and not because he's trying to pull a series of enigma right now.
"mhm, and don't you think i have a mind of my own?"
his eyes almost pop out of their sockets and he once again leans against the table, clearly not settled on how to sit still, "no–no i didn't mean to say that ! i'm sure you do," he says softly, yet still very much alarmed.
you almost regret your choice of words but he's so goddamn sweet it would be a shame not to tease him a little.
"i don't know i just, don't want you to think badly of me." his fingers fidgets with the salt and pepper shaker in front him.
you know you're in no position to talk, you even feel embarrassed if you're being honest, as you were not just about an hour ago making fun of him in the car with shoko – that, he doesn't know.
the old woman comes back to take both your orders and it's as if the bubble you were both in had just burst, bringing you back to the café as the music gradually came back to your senses. choso orders a strawberry milkshake and you take a blueberry.
the way he talks is so sweet, it makes you physically wince, and let's not talk about the way he looks at the old woman like she was cotton candy to the eye. you think it's all an act he's about to drop when she leaves but, even when she returns behind the counter he returns his eyes on you with the same look ; heavy lids – that you don't know if they are the consequence of a long day or if they're always like that – with shades or purple circling them.
"you'll know that the only time I take satoru's opinion into account is when I have to make a choice for lunch. you're okay." you assure.
he nods slowly and you see his face soften at your reassuring words.
"i don't know why you hang out with them." he says and it's so faint you're not even sure if he mumbled to himself or if he actually talked to you.
you tilt your head on the side with a frown, "what do you mean?"
he takes some time to answer, to gather his words or because he's hesitant you don't really know.
"you were always so nice to me," but you're still puzzled so he continues, "back in high school, you weren't hanging out with this kind of people, y'know."
you don't even pay attention to the way he's not so subtly trying to bring your friends down, you readjust yourself in your seat, visibly confused.
"i don't.. i mean, we were in the same class?"
choso shrugs, not really phased to see you don't remember him at all, "you had a lot of friends. plus, i didn't have these two." he points his finger up to show his hair attached in two buns atop of his head as if it could be the sole reason of your memory lapse. silly.
"i like this look on you. you look nice with them." you say as you look at the hairstyle thoroughly. the praise seemed to have gotten to him because you can see a small smile on his lips as he looks around impatiently for the drinks to arrive – or maybe he just needed to lay his eyes somewhere else than on you.
the drinks arrive shortly after, not surprising due to the lack of customers as it's practically just the two of you there. you don't really say anything much, comfortable in the silence you're both in as you grab your order to taste them. you don't really want to continue the conversation about your friends right now, and choso seems to have dropped the idea of it too.
choso watches you as you lean in to wrap the straw around your lips, elbows on the table to support your body on top. he also watches the way the milkshake climbs up the straw to pour into your mouth, away from prying eyes.
"you want some?"
his blurred eyes meet yours.
"huh?"
you smirk, only because you're enjoying the look on his face and you want it to worsen. you straighten up properly, away from that damn straw and focus on choso, who grows a little embarrassed, somehow – you see it, he backs down a little just at the sight.
"i know what you want," you say, almost above a whisper, stirring the straw with painful slowness.
"you just gotta ask."
choso doesn't say anything. he doesn't really know what to say actually as he flicks his eyes between your eyes and your lips. he's panicked, that's one thing anyone could notice if only they had their attention on him.
"you want a taste, right?" you say with such a languid voice he has to look around to see if you're putting on a show for anyone around, in vain of any spectators. choso raises his eyebrows, devoid of any answers.
"my drink, you idiot."
such a fool, his pouding heart slows back down quietly into his chest and it shows by the prior rapid breaths that are replaced by long and painful sighs. and what a disguised curse to be around you. he doesn't even seem to notice the degrading name he got assigned, you're not even sure he's got to hear the short sentence correctly.
"um.. yeah, sure."
you glide the drink forward on the table until it reaches his fingers which firmly wrap around the glass – and if you were from the police you'd suspect it's to hide his shaking fingers. he puts his own lips where yours once were and begins to sip through the straw. he doesn't have to look up to see you watching intently, he can feel it.
"there you go, how is it?"
"s'good." he nods.
the aroma melts on his tongue, almost sugarcoating the strawberry he previously ingested and the sour taste of a little humiliation.
"i wonder what's going on in that little head of yours. you're so analytical with everything."
"you make me feel like I have to be."
a head tilt from you is all he needs to know he has to develop his thoughts.
"be aware of my surroundings."
your answer gets stuck in the back of your throat when you hear the buzzing of your phone in your purse, you dig it out : a call from shoko.
you excuse yourself and choso simply nods, you bring the phone to your ears and you soon regret the movement as dissonant noises come to deafen your drums – urging you to pull your phone away from your ear.
"h-hey!! where.." the sentence is cut by another voice, and maybe some screams, you don't really know. you squint your eyes as you try to decode the semblance of sentences thrown at you, you call shoko but she doesn't seem to be on the line although the call indicates two minutes past.
choso continues to sip on his milkshake and he looks just as confused as you are.
"where r'you–" you don't need to ask her if she's drunk or not, you can hear it through the slurring of her words. you don't answer her question though, you know it will cause more damage than anything to say you'd preferred to leave the party to go sip on some milkshake with a man you're supposed to despise more than anything.
after five minutes of negotiation, you finally find out what shoko wanted - simple curiosity as to where you were, but also a call for help with the disappearance of choso, who was supposedly trapped in the toilet, according to yuki. you promptly hang up and finish your milkshake in a one go.
"she's in trouble?" choso gauges your reaction and imitates you, putting away his own things as he puts his jacket on.
"she's about to be if we don't come pick her up now." you place you purse back on your shoulder as you draw enough of cash to cover the bill and tip, "c'mon, let's go."
choso wasn't so wrong in the end, since you both arrived in time to prevent a tragedy from happening, one more on the list that shoko may not remember - despite the scale of it. you and choso agreed to take back your possessions – in this case yuki and shoko, who seemed to be standing on their own two feet only by some celestial force.
no need to to depict the end of the night, it was always the same when you went out with shoko. though something – or rather someone – during evening had told you it wasn't going to be the same ; that your tranquility was long gone, that you had now committed, whether you'd like it or not apparently, to be a fucking babysitter.
and he was fast with it, he didn't wait a week or so, he didn't even try to make it natural. the day after the party, choso went straight to talk to you, and the boy didn't even care if you were with your group of friends, the same that vehemently talked shit behind his back.
he didn't even try to wipe that smile off of his face, nor to calm the rosy tint on his cheeks that left little room for other interpretations. he didn't even try to cover for you when he gave you change for the milkshake you'd paid for – and God he didn't seem to understand that if you'd paid him it didn't mean you particularly wanted to give him the impression he owed you anything in return.
he also didn't notice that you didn't appreciate his refund, that you would have preferred to send him off, but that under the pressure from satoru and shoko, who were only viciously agreeable to him, you had to accept his exchange with a big smile.
you really didn't know whether his behavior was of the order of undisputed innocence or whether it was a means of publicly humiliating you.
in any case, the incident didn't go away, not with satoru and shoko around the corner, who were both just explaining the situation to suguru in the middle of lunch in the refectory.
"she left yuki and i alone with a bunch of freaks," shoko declares through the clattering sounds of the cantine while pointing her fork on you as she explains the evening, once again.
"you didn't seem to mind when i pulled you away from one that you were trying to dissect open with a knife." you insist, once again.
you stir the fuming food and distribute it homogeneously over your plate to let it cool down, ignoring shoko's words as she continues the story.
"it's kinda funny that you spent the evening with a guy who's a carbon copy of the type you say you hate." suguru intervenes and you sigh at the snarky remark. satoru keeps chewing on his food carelessly, clearly enjoying the roast you're subject to.
you shake your head at the statement, "spending an evening with someone and actually enjoying the time spent is different."
"mhm, clearly if i hadn't called you you'd still be making out with him right now.." shoko mocks and you swear you can see satoru's lips twitch in amusement.
"we just talked !" you half whisper, half scream, letting your food drop into your plate, causing your friends to shush you.
"c'mon just say you like him, we'll still be friends y'know?" you look deadpan at satoru, a look that doesn't require any words.
"i mean everyone knew he had a crush on you in high school, it wouldn't be surprising if it was still the case." suguru shrugs, you don't know if if he's being honest this time or if it's another joke. you choose to believe the latter.
you shake your head and look around the cantine to ease your mind from your shit friends, which doesn't seem to be the thing to do as satoru adds another weight to your already heavy shoulders.
"what? looking for your new pet? homeboy is probably hiddin' in his room right now. i mean, when doesn't he?"
you breathe out tensely, butchering your food with your cutlery as you clearly picture some detailed ways you'd like to treat the man in front of you.
"fucking assholes.."
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
after what happened during the last couple of days you really tried taking measures. good measures. and it was kind of ironic how choso should've been the type to try and dodge any interaction with your friends, but now you were the one trying to sneak past him.
he was nice. you'll give him that.
but he was stupid. so fucking careless. and really naive because he surely did think an evening sipping on milkshake meant something along the lines of "will you marry me?"
anytime he spotted you in between classes he just had to walk in your direction. whether it was just small talk or not, he talked to you every. single. time.
but he was so nice. you couldn't just shove it in his face? could you? despite shoko's encouragement to drop him there's something that just.. didn't feel right. and may God forgive you, but you know this is certainly not the advent of your good morals.
though all of that clingy attitude really pissed you off, you did find yourself thinking about that evening and how Elvis Presley was so annoyingly being repeated in the background. how his eyes, despite their darkness and exhausted features, never ceased to display the most authentically pure emotions you've ever seen.
"i don't know i just, don't want you to think badly of me."
you sigh, heavily. some conflicted parts of you wanted to know more, an evening wasn't enough to just send him off right away, right? who was he? who does he claim to be? and the fact that you don't remember him, no, you can't remember him doesn't help either to your curiosity. because you did search through your yearbooks and to see his face didn't help you bring back lost memories.
shit maybe you just need someone to ring some senses to you but you also don't want shoko nor satoru to do it, as much as you hate to think about it they'll taint your vision more than they'll clear it out. in some ways choso was right ; their judgment might have their part to play in the way you think. in some ways only.
or maybe you're trying to blame your friends for your shitty behavior which only makes you feel ten times worse. you let out a grunt as you get up from your chair, going to the library to study with a clouded mind wasn't a good idea and even more at the end of the day.
failing to have a cigarette you can borrow from shoko right now, you choose to take a walk around campus. it's not the best sight but the air is far more fresh outside.
oh and how ironic was it when your feet led you upstairs to the dorms. it's not like you even planned your itinerary, it was like second nature to you, plus the air definitively felt a lot more breathable.
out of all the rumors you've heard, you knew at least one was true : choso was an orphan ; he stayed in the dorms right above the college structure.
and how absurd that was when you feet planted right outside his doorway – you can say thank you to the floor tenant files that didn't seem to care about the resident's personal information.
the thing missing though is your speech. you didn't have anything in mind. fuck what are you thinking? you're not even sure you'd want to see him at all, despite your evident location. before you could produce another stupid thought your fist met the door to knock twice.
it was about six seconds of wait that felt like half a minute as you just stood there outside. the door opened slightly ajar, and it reminded you of the first time – well not counting high school – that you saw him.
long strands of black hair dangled in front of the doorway before he stepped closer to fill the gap with his width. of course his eyes widened. they always do when they meet yours.
"oh, hey," he quickly looked over his shoulder, behind him and lowered his eyes to take a look at himself.
it was an agreeable sight, you will not deny. his hair were hanging loose at shoulder length, wearing only an oversized white t-shirt (was it oversized or just his actual stature ?) and gray sweatpants. you almost felt like diverting your eyes away as if you were prying on something you shouldn't see.
"hey."
silence.
"are you okay?" he stays still, swiping his tongue inside his lower lip while playing with his ring piercing you presume ; a habit of his you've noticed. you don’t really know if he's asking to be polite or if you genuinely look like you need help.
"mhm," you nod, "can i come in?"
"uhh, yeah" he takes another look behind him and you're starting to think maybe you came at the wrong time. "yeah, of course." he opens the door wider and steps aside, you enter and to your relief nothing crazy's going on.
the room is neatly organized to your surprise, not that you were imagining a slum, but you were expecting something more akin to the prototype of the homebody student. you avoid looking too much everywhere, you didn't come for that anyway.
choso retreats to his desk where he leans against it, his hands on the length of the edge to support his body.
"looks serious eh?" he escapes a small laugh, almost a scoff actually as he scratches his forearm and you suddenly want to leave the room because of how miserable you feel.
"we have to stop this.. thing here." you point to him then yourself.
you almost feel bad for him. almost, because of the way his hand previously on his other arm stops in the previous scratching motion, because of the way he only stares at you for a few solid seconds.
"what do you mean?"
"you know what i mean," you sigh "i don't even know why you suddenly want to talk to me anyway," you shake your head and look down. it's not even something you're blaming him for, you're really wondering why he'd want to talk to someone who plays on both sides with him.
"it's not.. that sudden. i've always wanted to talk to you." he tells you softly, "have i done something wrong?"
he's too nice with you it makes you audibly grunt.
"do you have a crush on me or something?"
silence again. a longer one this time. you didn't really mean to blurt it out like that, you'd envisioned something a little more subtle but frustration got the best of you.
his body shifts, his hands move closer to his body and he crosses his arms over his chest, tapping his biceps with his finger repeatedly. he stays silent.
"it's a yes or no question choso."
he pinches the bridge of his nose just where his mark is and breathes out a small "fuck".
"alright. it's ok if you don't wanna use your words, you certainly don't fail showing it to the whole fucking world anyway."
he takes a step forward rapidly, a single step but big enough to be closer to you nonetheless.
"i'm sorry, shit, i didn't know it would make you so upset. i'm sorry." he apologies. and you don't know if he realizes how upset he looks in the situation, he runs a hand through his hair in distress and you can see how agitated he is.
his face is right above yours, you don't really have to do anything but to look up to meet his panicked eyes. and it's a complete contrast how your eyebrows almost hurt from the frown while his face is contorted in worry.
and you'll blame your beating heart on your irritation and building up anger and definitely not because of his sole proximity. you try to commit to that thought at least.
"you're insufferable you know that?" you hug yourself as you readjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder.
he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek and looks away for a flitting second before bringing his eyes back on you, or your lips ; he's very indecisive poor boy doesn't know where to look when he has you this close to him.
"i.. i didn't know know how to tell you i'm sorry i just–"
"oh shut up,"
you practically throw yourself on him as it's the only way he'll eventually stop apologizing, one of your hands quickly wrap around his neck, to the base of his nape pulling him closer as your lips crash onto his. choso stumbles back at the contact and his hands reach instinctively on your waist for support, his body hits the desk where he stood prior and he escapes the faintest gasp at the harsh contact.
you wouldn't even have dreamed of doing this – fuck if shoko would come to know about this she'd probably laugh at you. but he's so gentle in his every moves, his every words, so naive about your motives it would be a damn shame if he knew what kind of crap person you really are. if the two of you really had to stop talking like you stated, your only wish would be to at least do this before.
choso's fingers grip more tightly on your waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your shirt practically playing with the hem of it. he pulls you closer and parts his lips to kiss you back avidly while your nails dig deeper around his nape at the feeling, before sliding them back along his jaw to orient his head at a better angle. you feel him exhale through his nose as you slow down your pace, slowly detaching your lips from his.
"y'taste good." he whispers against your lips, his forehead is practically touching yours and it's only now that you realize how much his features have changed within seconds. his eyes are blazed, breathless and fingers shaky around your waist. you'll blame the taste of your lips of the cherry gloss you're wearing – and he's wearing too now that his lips are shiny from it.
you're no better though, you swallow as you catch your breath, your heart is pounding in your chest so much you also hear it through the buzzing of your ears, coating the sounds around you.
"yeah? what is it, never kissed before?" you smile, you'll never get tired of teasing him, not when he always gives you the same look.
"not like that," he pants and smile back at you, a little smile that soon turns into a frown, "i.. shit, i wanna make you feel good. can i?" his voice is so low it makes your head spin.
"then do it," you kiss him once slowly and you feel him shudder at the new sensation, "make me feel good." you kiss him twice, even slower this time.
no need to say it twice for choso, if it's not you latching on him right now he definitely doesn't feel like backing down, he takes your answer for words and his hands find your cheeks instantly, cupping them as he puts a lot more pressure, making you step back. your hands lower down on his shoulders and your purse slip down your arm until it reaches the ground harshly ; not your priority number one right now.
he presses his body even closer to you and you don't need an explanatory drawing of what's happening down his pants as you feel his hard on pressed against you. you put your thigh forward, adding your own pressure against him and the moan that escapes his lips is enough to make your skin shiver and your panties tighter. much tighter.
still glued to each other, he guides you to his bed, just behind and it takes a couple steps back for your calves to hit the furniture, your body drops down the bed as you look up at him and you think he's about to slouch his own body on you, but he kneels down right before you instead.
you put your hands on the bed behind you to push yourself farther against the wall but to your – second – surprise he puts his hands flat on your knees.
"i need you right here," he soothes as he taps your knee lightly, making you stop in your movements. you don't know if he's about to do what you think he's about to do but your questions get quickly answered.
"can i?" he asks as he flicks his eyes onto your skirt, asking permission to touch it you guess. you nod eagerly and he leans back slightly to take your mary janes off instead, right foot, then to the left foot so ever carefully and putting them aside on the floor. you watch him and notice how steady and focused he looks despite his torso heaving up and down rapidly, you see it.
he straighten up on his knees and the sight has you gulping down, you're on his bed, he's on the ground just right in front of you, his eyes scan your face thoroughly you almost feel overwhelmed by it. your skirt gets pulled down easily, oh but so slowly, you prop yourself up on your elbows to make it easier for him.
"so pretty." he breathes out, he discards the piece of clothing on the floor and places both of his hands on your hips to bring your body closer to him as he easily glides you.
he leans in and his face is only inches away from your crotch, he glances at you before returning back on your clothed cunt. his thumb circles the hem of your panties as if he's admiring the sewing method and your breath hitches when his thumb drops a little lower, down where you clit hides beneath the fabrics.
"don't have all day, choso" you gulped, your hands bawl into tight fists in apprehension.
"okay–okay." he coos and immediately grant your wish ; he pulls your panties down and you're now bottom naked on his bed. it gives you a real reason to be embarrassed for sure because you didn't really "plan" on being that drenched from a single quick make out session. and the more he stares at your exposed cunt the more you grow impatient.
"choso.." you try to warn him but it comes out as a whine instead. he shifts as he gets closer to the edge of the bed, he wraps his hands under your legs to grab onto your thighs firmly.
"gonna make you feel good ok?"
"jus' do it–" you choke on your own words when you feel his tongue on you. a single lap and you're already panting in the room like a mad woman, "ffuck." you whine and your hand reaches immediately down to get a hold of something – his hair in this case which is being in his vision doesn't stop him nonetheless to complete his mission – as it's the only way you'd call it due to how devoted he looks between your legs.
he gives you a few more laps, down from your entrance to the very top on your clit, and he's diverse in his moves you'll give him that – he goes either way from the right side, then the left side, until he decides to flick his tongue against your pussy from side to side this time. you'd honestly thought the man would go down on you as his first time, his first experiment but it looks like you're the one experimenting for the first time his tongue skills – that, you don't miss to point out.
"shit- where the fuck did you learn to do that?" you pant, you push his hair back the best you can though it still falls atop of your pussy, giving you extra tingles on the way.
the sounds are purely gross, the room is nothing but a space for filth, hearing liquids collides whether it'd be his saliva on you or your slick on him. doesn't help from your restrained moans nor from his own whimpers that resonate lowly against your skin – it's almost as if he's being louder than you are.
he props your legs up onto his own shoulders when he leans down further into your pussy, getting better access while your thighs are in the air, tensing and quivering at each touch.
you start to seriously lose it when you feel pressure on your clit, getting even more stimulated your head starts to feel dizzy ; his thumb brushes against your folds to gather your juices before going up to your clit while his tongue starts to push down your entrance.
he mumbles something but you can't understand either from the pounding in your ears or because he factually has his mouth buried in your cunt.
"you feel so– fuck!" you almost cry out when he accelerates the pace on your clit "so fuckin' good shit," and before you get hold of the situation your muscles contract, your thighs wraps even tighter around choso and you're not really in the mindset to care if you're hurting him right now when you're nothing more than a trembling mess under him.
when you release the grip you have around his head with your legs, he slowly backs down and wipes under his chin with the back of his hand, breathing heavily as if he had just come flooding back from the water after a long dive. the sight has your brain rebooting from the start, simply short circuited.
"t'was okay?"
you almost feel indignation for his own self when you look at him in disbelief, "okay? thought i was losing my mind over there," you slowly sit up as you look at him with heavy lids. you probably look like you got run over.
"want me to get something to–"
he stops once he sees you getting your top over your shoulders, taking it off and throwing on the chair near his desk. you get closer to the edge of the bed, still sit up on it as you cage him between your legs since he's still kneeling on the ground.
"well.. i guess you have other plans..?" he murmurs under his breath, he doesn't even try to hide the fact he's staring, the man is practically glued to you like when kids stand too close to a tv.
"you're a perceptive one aren't you?" you leaned down to slip your fingers under his shirt, near his hips to take it off too, "unless you don't want to?" you whisper, stopping your movements to get his approval before starting anything but oh don't you dare take your hands off of him because he'll put them back on their original place.
"no–no, i do. i want you." his eyes meets yours and it's as if repentance was just knocking at your door and you don't know if you're willing to open the door because of how good he ate your pussy or because you really feel like you should do it.
"good."
you knew choso was introverted, a little shy even, the kind of men to be a little prudish even, the ones who'd rather stay indoors, the ones who's rather not get touched by anybody, even less when those places are under their clothes. you thought he was that kind of man when you'd first met him.
you got fooled. once when he mastered the technique of his tongue on you a few minutes ago that got your jaw dislocating in pleasure. but twice now that his shirt is past his torso, up to get through his head and you see yet another pair of silver jewelry. one on each of his nipples.
and your reaction is suited honestly, you just drop your arms and leave him struggling with the shirt on his own as his head is still tangled inside of it, you swear under your breath as you look at the two shiny buds. and maybe he did it as a distraction, getting two silvery eyes up his breast might be one hell of a surprise when you're trying to look at his whole torso ; but even in that case you wouldn't get why on earth you'd need to be distracted from his upper body, because what a fucking view.
once you see choso's head pop out of his t-shirt you're so turned on you're scared if you move you'll just leave the biggest pond of your slick on his covers ; you're feeling genuinely embarrassed to say the least.
"come here, get on your back." you tap on your left to show him the way on his own bed, he executes your demand without much more convincing. he lays down where his pillow rest, propping his head up a little as he still supports his body on his forearms, watching you.
which is not such a bad thing as it gets his whole upper body tensing up from the position, and you realize you got fooled thrice because of how defined his body is, muscles tracing his skin in the prettiest way.
you crawl closer to him and take his sweatpants off, throwing them along with the other remaining of clothes on the ground.
you straddle choso, only in his boxers now and he's always on the lookout for your next move, eyes traveling along every part of your body standing so close to him. you lean in to kiss him again, a simple kiss this time, not heated, nor passionate as you'd intended earlier, almost too intimate to your liking. you feel him relax under you, no, melt. he melts under your kiss, his back rests totally flat on his bed now and his hands travel along you jaw, touching you like porcelain if it were to break.
"it's only fair i return the favor, right?" you tell him as you lean near his ear, and if you chose to ignore the bulge in his underwear when you got him out off his pants you're certain you can't now. it's entirely poking through the fabrics to lean oh so perfectly against your entrance you have to fight back a moan just at the feeling. how embarrassing.
"fuck, please do." he moans, his hands get back on your hips slowly, pressing his fingers into your skin lightly. though you'd rather take some of your time, if you're in this might as well do it right.
you kiss your way down his body, from his lips, to his jaw, on his neck a few times — just because you love watching his adam's apple bobble up every time he gulps when you touch him — near his collarbones, on his torso and why not on the twins piercings he's got on it too.
at the contact of your tongue swirling around his nipples choso instantly throws his head back on his pillow, earning a deep breath from him along with a "fuckk" he couldn't bite back. at the same time your hips start to grind, slowly, cautiously, you wouldn't want to get off on his boxers now would you?
your hands reach down his boxers, under it to grab his dick but... maybe you got fooled fourth time. or maybe the saying is right, the quietest got the biggest and he's a living proof of the statement, you can attest. you break the contact on his sensitive buds and sit up correctly to look at it lay flat on his stomach, curved and strained in its own blood flow. you really have to close your mouth to not drool on it directly and you mumble something unintelligible.
his hands rest on your thighs, they try to guide you forward, they really do and you let them. you bring your hips forward, pussy gliding – as it's the only way it would be described, you're soaked – on his dick, just slipping through your wet folds, enough to mold him on the way forward, then all the way back when you return to your position. you let your hands fall on his abs, you're not even tired, you just need the support right now or else you're afraid you'll just collapse right onto him.
"God, you feel so good," you whine, grinding slowly along his cock and you honestly don't know how he's handling it down there 'cause it feels too fucking good for you.
"n-need you right now," he painfully gulps, he looks at the friction with a frown and he lowers his head back on the pillow, "shit..." he whimpers, such a wobbly voice yet he's not even inside of you thus far. you don't know who's winning the embarrassing contest but he might win over you if you keep giving him good pussy.
"so sweet. you're too fuckin' sweet y'know that?" you praise and choso's hands come directly to grab at your tits, cupping the roundness of them with both hands as he massages them slowly, pinching your nipple between his index and his thumb.
you're done with being patient actually as it is your cue to wrap your fingers around the head of his cock. you brush your thumb over his tip and his whole body jerks off from the touch, you slide your whole hand down the base of it as you pull yourself up on your knees.
you thought you'd reached the epitome of pleasure when he was between your legs just now, and you don't know what other seventh heaven you landed on when he entered you, but it was just as similar.
the head of his cock has just slipped through and you're already full of it, full of him. and you have no doubt when you look at choso that he's feeling it too. you both moan at the new feeling, a feeling you were too puerile to treat with such disdain when you looked at him, a feeling you'd never come to know if he didn't slightly hurt your ego with his kindness.
"holy shit, so fucking tight f'me.." he purrs through the whole process, his hands help you go down, steadily and slowly at your pace when more than half of his cock has sunk into you. your legs shake slightly when you've reached the end, you start to bounce up and down lazily, hearing every gushing sounds of both of your slick as they disperse through your organs.
he can't help it, you don't know if it's because you've teased him so much pior that he can't hold it in anymore, but the grip on your hips gets tighter, the bouncing up and down his cock gets messier, and even though your thighs start to feel numb you soon understand that choso has your back. his hips starts to buck back into you to meet your hips halfway, skin to skin as they collide rapidly.
"f–fuck, choso, you're gonna make m–"
"i know, i know." he soothes, you lean into him, chest to chest as you put your hands on his shoulders. and you can't help but be extremely grateful right now as you're practically laying down on him, he's fucking right into you with the help of his hands pressing down your hips as he moans in your ears softly.
"wanna make this pretty pussy mine– fuck. wanna make you mine." he whimpers and you can hear the way his throat tightens that he's close. you wouldn't wanna lie saying you're not – to be honest you've been wanting to come as soon as you hoped on his thighs.
you don't know if it's the heat of the moment, because you're taking his dick so fucking perfectly inside of you that the thought of being with him doesn't really repulse you that much, for it actually seems pleasant enough to imagine it.
"fuck–fuck-i'm gonna cum!"
and you sincerely hope nobody is in their dorms right now because you're sure the whole floor knows what their nerdy resident is doing to some resentful student on campus. he's so vocal you wouldn't have it any other way, specially when every each one of his moans reach your cunt before your ears.
you feel your legs tremble and your nails dig deeper into his skin when you reach your second orgasm, and not one for the weak ones as your pussy clenches so tightly you think you're sucking choso's dick whole with the suction. your hips get pulled up on spot when choso releases his own shot in between your bodies, his dick springing out from where it was caged. you still tremble on him when he breathes heavily, coming down to his high.
you both stay silent for a couple of seconds and reality hits you back.
"you're too good to me." he murmurs as he wipes some of the mascara under your eyes with his thumb, you head is still near the crook of his neck, you don't move.
oh only if he knew.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
"can you believe nerdy boy got laid?"
you turn to shoko almost too rapidly, "what?"
"i know, who would do that.."
you don't say anything. you don't really wanna say anything for now, but you know shoko isn't saying that just to make the conversation when she waits for an answer. a valid one.
©nabitsun !
thank you for reading :D
#choso x reader#jjk smut#jjk choso#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk oneshot#choso oneshot#choso x you#choso x y/n#choso smut#choso x female reader#choso kamo#jujutsu kaisen choso#finished this at 5 but it was worth it#i love this#jujustsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fanfic#jujutsu choso
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Video Games
Wanda Maximoff x Fem!reader
Summary: Wanda hates the way she feels when she loses, so she finds a way to make herself feel better by playing with you however she wants.
Warnings: +18, Minors DNI! smut, fingering (r receiving), vibrator use (r receiving), face riding, edging (a lot), orgasm denial, choking, bondage, a bit of degradation, praising, pet names, squirting, overstimulation.
Word count: 4k
a/n: got carried away by this one ✰ masterlist
"Are you sure this is your first time playing this game?" Wanda asks you, the scoreboard on the TV screen showing that you've beaten her for the fourth time in a row.
"Uhum." you reply innocently, suppressing a smile as you notice her shifting uncomfortably on the couch. You know she's pissed off by the fact that you won in the game, and you also know it won't be long before she does something about it. "Who knew I would be better than Wanda Maximoff at something, huh?"
"You only won because I let you win." she mutters, tossing the controller onto the coffee table. Your girlfriend has this personality trait that makes her feel superior to everyone, let's say she's a narcissist, or rather, presumptuous. She hates to lose, regardless if it's just a video game. So you beating her over and over again made something inside her bubble up in anger, and she really is trying to act normal, but your comments sometimes don't help. "If I really wanted to, I would have won."
"Wanda, you never lose." you move closer to her on the couch, your legs touch and her muscles tense as you throw your arm around her neck. "Not even on purpose."
You stare at her, and see how her jaw clenches, and how her gaze darkens when she looks back at you. You hate admitting you love it when she acts that way, you hate the fact how wet you get when she gets mad. But at the same time you love it. You just love the way she takes it all out on you so mercilessly. You love how she makes you feel. "Am I gonna have to repeat myself?" she says in a firm voice, raising one of her eyebrows. "I took it easy on you, next time I'll go harder."
"Aw, someone doesn't know how to lose." you keep pulling her deeper into this feeling of fury, playing with a lock of her hair with your fingers. "It's normal, not being the best at everything, you know?"
It is in fact normal, for everyone but Wanda. She despises having weaknesses, and of course when she asked you to play video games in her apartment she didn't know you'd be this good. She would never play with you if she knew you were going to beat her, and even though she says she lost on purpose, you both know that's not true. Maybe this is the first time you've shown yourself superior to her in something, and that for Wanda is like a nightmare. At first you thought it was just her way of wanting attention, but over time you realized that this is who she really is, and you know that nothing is going to change that, and to be honest, you wouldn't even if it were possible.
You expect her to do something, you can't wait for her to ruin you. Just as you open your mouth to continue your game of pissing her off, one of her hands wraps tightly around your throat, the fingers on the side of your neck making a pleasurable pain as she digs her nails into your skin. "Don't be stupid darling. It's my game, do you really think I'd lose on purpose?" she says very close to your face, making you feel her breath hitting your mouth. She smiles, seeing you struggle to breathe properly. "What? Is it hard to breathe?"
You manage to get some air into your lungs when Wanda moves to sit on your lap, straddling your legs. But soon her grip is back, and this time even tighter. "I want to play with something else now." it's like you're in a staring contest. Wanda loving seeing you submissive to her, feeling her own arousal growing at the thought of all she wants to do to you. And you, just waiting for her to finally do it. "Will you let me play with you?"
Even with her hand around your neck you manage to giver her a small nod, your eyes definitely glistening at the thought of her using you like a toy. "Oh baby, I know you will, you never say no to me, do you?" her other hand begins to make a trail through your body, until it reaches the hem of your pants, where she begins to unbuckle the belt around your hips. "You talk, and you talk about me, but I'm sure you don't like to lose either."
Nobody likes to lose, but there are some people who overreact to it more than others, and you're certainly not one of them. You don't mind feeling inferior to Wanda, in fact she always reminds you everyday who's in charge, and you have no choice but to agree with her. You do whatever she says, whenever she wants, and wherever she wants.
You can feel the blood rushing to your head, trying to keep you conscious. You know if she keeps her hand there for even a few more minutes you're likely to pass out. But would that really be a bad thing though? "Wouldn't it be funny if I ended up not giving you what you want?" you don't know the weight those words carry, all you can process is the fact that you can finally breathe when Wanda takes her hand away from your throat. "I bet you would hate that." still a little airy from finally being able to breathe, you stare at her biting your bottom lip as she begins to pin your wrists together using the piece of leather, leaving a bit of the length out so she can hold the belt in her hand.
She ties tightly, making it impossible for you to move your hands. You learned a while ago that she loves to see you like this, totally surrendered to her, but you didn't know that you would like it as much as she does. "Did your stupid little brain forget what words are honey?" she asks noticing how long you've been silent.
"N-no." you stutter, looking away from her face. "But it's hard to talk when there's a hand around your neck, you know."
With a strong tug on the belt she pulls your body off the back pillow of the couch, making your faces inches apart. "What was that?" you hiss looking at your wrists — which are starting to turn slightly red — but with her free hand Wanda holds onto your jaw forcing you to look at her "We're not going to do that today, are we?"
You know by that she means not to act like a brat, which you love to do. You always want to see her on edge, not caring if she ends up taking it out on you or not, in the end you are always there to satisfy her in any way she wants. "I was just telling the truth." you shrug, already expecting a slap against your cheek, but nothing comes, instead Wanda just sighs heavily, getting off your lap. "Wanda-." you stare at her with a confused look as she starts to walk out of the living room towards her bedroom. You think about following her, but since she didn't ask you to just sit on the couch waiting for her to come back.
You try to ease some of the tightness around your wrists by moving your hands together, but it doesn't do much. Moving your thighs you can already feel how wet you are with just that little interaction between you and your girlfriend, it's even a little embarrassing. Wanda can just wink at you that you're already going to be melting for her, and that just makes her already huge ego swell even more.
You get more and more impatient wanting her to do something soon, normally it doesn't take that long to piss her off, but today it seemed like for the first time she had a bit of patience. She let you beat her four times before finally saying she was tired of the video game. That was unusual.
You're so focused on your thoughts that you don't even notice when Wanda walks back into the same room as you, pulling out the bottom of the couch to turn it into a sofa bed. With that same dark look from minutes ago she pulls your ankles, making you lie on your back, and you just let her, like the doll you are. "Why don't we play a game?" with a quick act she removes your pants along with your underwear from your body, leaving you fully exposed. "One where it only ends when I lose."
She makes a point of emphasizing the 'I' in the sentence, her eyes going from your face down to your totally bare sex. "Oh baby, you're already soaked." you want to ask what the game is, curiosity of what awaits making your heart race. But all you manage to do is get a dumbfounded expression on your face, mouth slightly open as her hand begins to caress your inner thigh. "I haven't even done anything to you yet."
You feel embarrassed by the tone she uses, as if she's making fun of you. You try to close your legs to hide your state, but she sharply tightens your knee, a signal for you not to continue with the act. "Nuh uh."she scolds you, moving her hand up again. Along with her delicate fingers you also feel something else against your thigh, and looking down you can see the toy in your girlfriend's hand, slowly moving up between your legs. "I only lose when..." you squirm a little as she presses the vibrator against your clit, the toy still not on, but sending shivers all over your body. "...only when you come."
You look at her with a desperate look, not really paying attention to the rules of this game she just made up, just begging her to make you feel better. A snarky smile graces her lips when she finally turns on the vibrator, you automatically throw your head back when finally what was bothering you is relieved. "Does my baby like this?" you nod your head, your eyes squeezing shut as she turns the intensity up to medium.
She spreads your legs apart to sit between them on top of the sofa, her other hand going under your shirt to play with one of your nipples. "Fuck." you blurt out, cheeks flushed at the realization that you're already this close, and she hasn't even done much yet. She pinches your right nipple hard, lowering the toy to your entrance, then bringing it back up wetting the entire length of your folds with your own wetness. "Fuck... m-more, please."
"Oh you want more?" the buzzing just seems to get more intense on your nerve, feeling Wanda let the toy rest on top of your clit, with excruciating pressure. "Be careful what you wish for, bunny." she moves her hand to your other nipple, trapping it against her fingers, making you gasp. You open your eyes, meeting hers that study every expression on your face, how she loves to see you so expressively showing how she makes you feel.
"Please..." you ask for nothing in particular, and she chuckles as she lowers the vibrator to your entrance, and thrusts just the tip of it inside you. She does this over and over again, teasing you, as you only find yourself getting closer to the edge. Each time she brings the toy up to your clit your body flinches with anticipation for orgasm, but soon she's back at your folds again. "Please..." you ask again.
"Do you wanna come?" you nod frantically at her question, moving your hips up. "But this way I'm gonna lose the game dummy." she smiles harder when you whimper, turning your head to the side and trying to control all the heat inside you. But it gets hard when she doesn't stop playing with your pussy with the help of the toy in her hand, it's very hard not to come when the vibrations against your clit are now at their strongest intensity.
You bite your bottom lip hard not to moan, not to show her how close you are. But Wanda knows you, she knows very well how your body reacts to certain things, so it's obvious she knows you're about to release all the tension. "No." she whispers, but you ignore her. You swear you can taste blood in your mouth from the force you bite your lip, you're not sure if it's a real sensation or if your mind is making things up, you just start to feel all that pleasure come down to your stomach, but as soon as you finally feel it invading your whole body Wanda pulls the vibrator away from you, causing everything that was being built to go down the drain.
"No no, fuck, please Wanda... d-don't." you're on the verge of tears at her unexpected act, trying to take her hand in yours to pull the toy back to your sex. "Please please please."
"Aw, look at you." Wanda pouts at you, frowning upwards. "What's wrong sweetheart? Will you cry for not getting what you want? What a spoiled little thing."
You want to cuss her out loud, and you know exactly what she's doing. She couldn't win the video game, so she's going to make sure you don't get what you want too. "But I... I..." you try to hide the moan as she brings the toy back to your pussy, this time it's turned off, but she keeps moving it in circular motions on your clit that feels good all the same. "Please... I promise not to beat you at video games anymore... just please let me-."
You can't finish the sentence when suddenly the buzzing noise comes back to your ears, your eyes roll back, your back arches. "Let me what?" she asks knowing exactly what you want. "Use your words."
"Let me come... please I'll do anything you want."
She grinds the dildo against your pussy, the wet noises only turning you on even more. "Hm..." she hums, lowering her gaze to follow her movements. "I'll think about it." she slides the toy into your entrance, eliciting almost a cry of pleasure from you as you feel the vibrations inside you. It's just an inexplicable feeling, and you think this time she's going to let you go until the end, yes, you're stupid enough to think about that possibility. But when you open your eyes, stars are already forming in the corner of your vision, you feel that coil forming in your stomach again, and you're about to release it all, and again she abruptly pulls away, leaving you completely needy for her touch.
You don't even have the strength to complain this time, you just throw your head back completely exhausted, and not even your hands are able to do anything since they're trapped against each other. "That was the second one, wasn't it?" Wanda's voice sounds far away, and you just nod along with whatever she's saying. "Well you beat me four times, so I guess I can beat you four times too. Who knows even more."
And she does what she says. She plays with your body at least three more times. Pulling you very close to the edge, but every time she realizes that you are going to come she suddenly stops. You hate but love the feeling at the same time. She's never done anything like this before, and you know that if you ask her to stop, she'll stop, but you don't want to. You want her to keep going until you can't take it anymore, you want her to use you, you want her to keep abusing you the way she likes best. When she denies you coming for the sixth time you don't even know what words are anymore, your thoughts are blurred, and your head is spinning. "Fuck, you're such a messy little slut." she mumbles, tossing the vibrator onto the sofa, seeing your fluid running down your thighs. "Maybe if you help me I'll let you come later."
Just these simple words bring your senses back to normal, the thought of her finally letting you feel what you want makes you electrified. "Yes yes." you say with a smile. "Please, I'll do anything."
She crawls over your body, her hungry gaze making you feel things. "Yes?" she kisses you on the cheek. "Are you gonna be an obedient girl and let me fuck your face?" another kiss on your cheek, and another quick peck on your lips. "Are you gonna make me come in your mouth?"
You nod, and she smiles proudly. "That's a good girl." you melt with the praise, and Wanda moves on top of you, straddling your face with her legs as she slowly lowers her sex into your mouth. "Go ahead baby, make me feel good."
You stick your tongue out, giving the first lick to her folds, getting a whine out of her. Her taste invades your mouth at the same speed as she starts to move her hips over your face. You stick your tongue inside her entrance trying to get even more of the wonderful taste before turning your attention to her clit, sucking it hard. "Fuck... just... like that." her hand grips the strands of your hair, and you want to grip her thighs to keep her still but your arms are unable to move right now. She grips your hair tightly, and you can feel the trail of drool running down your chin when you look up, meeting the sight of her breasts fully exposed as she throws her bra over her shoulder. "Y-yes, keep going, don't fucking stop."
You don't even know it's you or her doing all the work anymore, she holds the locks of your hair tightly in her fingers, forcing your head still as she fucks your face. Her breathing is labored, and you can feel her getting closer and closer to orgasm. Wanda looks down to find you with your eyes closed as you enjoy the moment, loving the feel of her in your tongue. "Eyes on me." she demanded, pulling the strands of your hair. "Yeah, uhum, look at me while I come all over your mouth."
That feeling between your legs had already stopped bothering you because you were worried about something else now, but it was enough for her to look directly into your eyes and it all came back like a bus crashing against your body. You move your thighs in an attempt to alleviate this, while continuing to move your tongue back and forth, sucking her nerve every now and then, trying to make her as crazy as she makes you. You wanted to do the same, stop as soon as she was close, but you're not crazy enough to try, and all you want right now is to make her come, because you know that after that she'll make you feel better.
With just one more forward movement of her hips Wanda climaxes, throwing her head back as she slowly releases your hair. You continue with your work, sucking all of her wetness until her thighs close around your head. She shivers as you follow her clit, trying to prolong the moment for her. But Wanda already had what she needed, and so she finally rolls off of you, running her hand over your chin to clean the residue from her and your own drool. "You did so good." she opens your legs again, positioning herself between them as she picks up the toy from the couch again. "I guess you deserve it now."
She doesn't wait to turn the vibrator on full blast and press against your already sensitive clit while two of her fingers tease your entrance. "Oh bunny, sorry I left you like this." she comments on how wet you are. "It's just that you needed to know what happens when you try to be better than me at something."
"Sorry." you whimper, shifting beneath her.
"Ah, you already proved that you're sorry, it's okay, I'll make you feel better now, don't worry."
With a firm thrust she pulls both fingers inside you, while pressing on your clit with the toy. You groan, smiling as you trap your bottom lip between your teeth. Wanda stares at you mesmerized, watching your chest rise up and down as you let her do you good, now for real. "You're so cute." she starts to fuck you faster with her fingers, pulling them in and out mercilessly as you concentrate on trying not to come right away. "I know you want it, you don't have to hold back this time, I already made you wait."
It takes exactly two seconds for you to finally peak, pure ecstasy invading every muscle in your body as you come. “Yes, that’s it, so good for me.” you take a deep breath as Wanda continues to fuck you hard with her fingers, overstimulating you with the vibrator. “You held it six times, I think you can give me at least three, right baby?”
You shake your head from side to side, trying to push her hands away with your hands, but she ends up letting go of the toy to hold the piece of leather, looping it twice around her palm before pulling your wrists towards her, preventing you from moving your arms. “Hold still.“ your eyes start to fill with tears, and you think you won't last that long. She stops her fingers inside you, curling them and hitting your g-spot, making you moan loudly, your throat even hurts. Her thrusts are like music to your ears, her palm slamming against your clit making you convulse every time it happens. “One more? Please?” she asks you with innocent eyes, and you end up giving in, starting to feel numb with so much stimulation. “Oh fuck yeah baby, just one more I know you can do it.”
“Wait… wait!” you move your legs, trying to pull her away, but she grabs your thigh, sitting with her knee on top so you stay still. “No, I… I can't… Wanda I can’t-.”
“Yes you can.” she adds another finger, the pressure of her knee against your thigh hurts, but the way she fucks you hard, without mercy, takes your full attention. “I'm just giving you what you wanted, you were close to tears when I didn't let you come, so you actually have to thank me now, go ahead.”
You take a quick look down, seeing her fingers abuse your hole while your wrists are almost in a purple coloration from the way she tightens the leather around them. “T-thank you.” you manage to sigh the words, slowly all the energy in your body evaporating. “Thank you for letting me come.”
You try to hold on to your third knowing the mess you're going to make, closing your eyes to concentrate on it. Her three fingers slamming so deep inside you it feels like she's going to rip you in half, you think about how she's got you to hold on the other times, and how good she's been at making you come multiple times now. You want to show her that you're good too, but at the same time you're scared of seeming so desperate for her touch.
“Don't hold it.” Wanda demands. “Come on, show me what a good slut you are, make a mess, come for me.”
Her words are the last straw for you to show how embarrassingly good she makes you feel. Wanda smiles watching you squirt into her hand, wetting some of the bedclothes beneath you as she continues with her movements. You didn't even know you could do this, but even though it looked embarrassing it felt really good. So fucking good you would love to do it again. “Oh fuck, that was so hot.” she comments by slowing down the acceleration of her fingers inside you. "See? I knew you would make it, you did really good, I’m so proud of you.”
It's the last thing you hear before everything goes black. Apparently all of this was too much for your body.
#wanda#smut#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x fem!reader#wlw#marvel#wlw smut#marvel women#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda fanfic#i think i got carried away#wanda x y/n#wanda maximilf#wanda smut
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With Friends Like These
Fizz awoke with a yawn, the man giving an a huge stretch, limbs shooting out as he turned over.
"Morning ba-" He paused mid morning greeting, the Imp finding himself alone in Asmodeus' massive bed.
Sitting up, the Imp looked about, wondering where his big blue and purple lover had run off too.
"FUCKING HELL!"
He jumped, hearing Ozzie's distinct voice scream from the other room.
The Imp, after a moment, got up, zipping off to find Ozzie in his office, the man rather aggressively growling into his phone.
"Do you know who the FUCK I am!?"
The Imp, not wanting to approach him empty handed, quickly zipped off, snatching up some coffee before he zipped into the Office.
"MoOorning Babe~" He purred, presenting him with Coffee. "Some asshole giving you trouble?"
Ozzie, seeing his love zip into the room, sighed, rubbing his face.
"Hey baby." He greeted, his tone clearly wary. "I didn't uh, wake you did I?" He asked, the Sin genuinely concerned.
Fizz smiled, zipping up to kiss the man's cheek.
"Nah babe, I was already awake." He assured, sipping his coffee. "Is... everything alright babe?" He asked, giving the mess of papers on his desk a glance.
Ozzie sighed, rubbing his face.
"Yeah Froggy, I'm alright." He sighed, the man rubbing his brow as she stared at a piece of paper.
"What's up?" Fizz asked, the man releasing a frustrated sigh.
Ozzie sighed, rubbing his face. "I've got a dozen orders for materials on five rings that are over due and I'm struggling to contact each supplier to make sure the shipments are actually handled."
Ozzie grumbled, scribbling something on a page.
"Don't ya have someone for that?" Fizz asked absent-mindedly, guzzling coffee.
Ozzie sighed, rubbing his face. "Yeah... I did." The man told him sombrely, rubbing his face.
Fizzarolli cringed, rubbing his neck. "Ooooh. sorry babe, didn't mean too..."
Ozzie chuckled, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
"It's cool babe, but, well..." He sighed, gripping him in his massive hand, kissing the man's cheek.
Fizz cringed, remembering the night before, standing there for a minute, glancing at the stacks of paper before him.
"... Ozzie, can you tell me about Niko, what was he like?" He asked, looking at him from the corner of his eye.
Ozzie, pausing his scribbles, froze, the man putting down his pen.
Sitting back in his massive chair, the man sighed, rubbing his face.
"Well... In a lot of ways, he was like you."
That instantly caught his attention, the Imp staring at the Sin.
"When I first met him, I was... Different." He hummed, looking over his office "I was a lot more arrogant back then. Bold, as i liked to call myself, but really i was just an ass."
They both chared a giggle. "Back in the day, I thought I was the king of all Sins, minus Luficer, who ya know is the king of all Sins."
He finished almost playfully, resting on an elbow, fizz sat on his desk.
Fizz smiled, seeing how open his lover was, and not in the lewd way.
"... Niko... where should I begin on Niko?" Ozzie hummed, rubbing his chin. "Well, I first met him in the RnD division."
"I had a whole department dedicated to developing toys and such, that was back when toys were booming."
"Lot of good ideas came out back then, i thought mine were amongst them, but well, let's say I had ideas that didn't always work out." He shuckled, sighing softly. "Not that I'd admit as much."
He chuckled, looking to the side.
"I can remember it like it was yesterday. I came waltzing into the office, proudly calling to RnD with my latest crazy idea." He hummed, staring off in the air. "And back then they chose what project they'd do, so I was just waiting for someone to jump at the chance to work on my miracle toy."
The sin chuckled sloftly, sighing as though in a fond memory. "But nobody stepped forwards... Nobody was stupid enough to try the impossible and risk failing me."
"All except some little Imp. Barely a teen, and yet he took on a job nobody else would. And did so with gusto."
Ozzie spoke warmly, leaning on a forearm.
"He stepped up, and in less then 48 hours, the man had a working prototype of a product that should have been impossible."
He hummed, glancing at a small statuette of Himself holding a large Heart shaped sex toy, the exact dimensions better left off of Tumblr.
"He had to make quite a few adjustments, yet he presented me with exactly what I wanted." He smiled warmly, glancing at Fizz, reaching out to scratch the base of his jesters hat.
"I've had a lot of assistants over the millenia." He chuckled, humming as he twirled his finger over the man's jester hat. "But Niko? Niko was... he was something else."
Fizz watched the man, noting how warm the man's smile was, the Sin resting on an elbow as he seemed lost in thought.
"Hell has always been ahead of the curve, ya know. It helps when we've got powerful magic and all the smartest sinner end up down here."
"And yeah, I was on the curb, but Niko... He was ahead of the curb."
He hummed, smiling softly as he picked up the Imp, holding him to his massive chest.
"He showed me the potential of automation, not to say I didn't have an interest. But Niko man, Hell, half of the factory was designed by him." he smiled softly, humming as he glanced to the side, seeing a 1:1 scale model of the tower.
"Man showed me the real results of automation, and trust me, there were results. Hell, most toys were made by hand before, Niko practically pioneering the factory line on Lust." He hummed, holding Fizz close.
"I was always interested in the newest tech, tinkering and making it work to my will, but with Niko's help, I brought production up to the modern age." He hummed, holding the man close.
". . . Niko meant a lot to you, didn't he?" Fizz asked softly, looking up the man, thinking over the interaction he last had with the man.
Ozzie didn't say anything for a long time before the man sighed, leaning forwards and kissing the man's head.
"Yeah... Niko was a damn good friend, and an even better assistant."
He sighed, rubbing his face.
Fizz sat there for a moment, rubbing his face.
". . . I'm sorry." Fizz sighed, holding himself close, the Imp feeling guilty that he'd inadvertently caused their break up.
"Oh baby." Ozzie cooed, spinning him around holding him up to his massive face.
"Fizzy, baby, I don't regret what I said for a second. I love you baby, your my world." He cooed, kissing the Imp, rubbing a thumb to the Imps squishy cheek. "I don't regret what I did for a second. Not a second Fizz. You mean the world to me."
He sat there for a minute, looking to the side.
"I just... I just wish I'd handled the situation with Niko better." He sighed, nursling his Jester Imp lover. "Niko... he deserved better then... then what I said."
An awkward energy hung in the air as the two sat in silence, Ozzie holding the Imp close as he slumped back in his chair.
Fizz sat there for a minute, before silently sighing, the Imp leaning up, giving the Imp a passionate kiss.
"Keep it up babe, I know you can figure it out." He hummed zipping out of his grasp, sure to plant an extra kiss to his cheek as he zipped out of the room.
---
Fizz had to call in several favours, paying off one of his Ozzie men to find Niko's residents, the Imp finding his home in one of Lusts more influential districts.
After a brief Limo ride, telling Ozzie he was off to but something, he found himself in an impressive residentiql building, knocking on a door with a prominent 69 on the door.
There was silence for a while before he knocked again, this time getting some grumbling quickly followed by yelling from the other side of the door.
Niko slid the door open, several chains keeping it secure as he glanced through the gap.
He looked tired, bags beneath his eyes as the Imp stared at the man for several moments, the Imp glaring at him, his breath reeking of alcohol before slamming the door.
The sounds of several locks being undone ringing through the door before he finally opened the door.
Niko stood in the doorway, holding it open as he tiredly held the door open.
"What do you want?" He asked coldly, shielding his eyes as he walked in, Niko quickly walking over and slumping onto his couch.
Fizz took a minute to inspect his apartment.
Inspecting the various artworks, he found most, if not all involved Asmodeus in some regard, the most prominent being a painting of the man in a rather suggestive pose across the penthouses largest wall, seemingly blowing a kiss to the viewer.
Niko, slumped on his massive couch, the thing looking like it came straight out of Ozzie penthouse, hummed, rubbing his face.
Fizz fixed his collar, scratching his cheek as they sat across from each other.
Fizz hummed, glancing around the surprisingly humble penthouse.
". . . Come back." Fizz spoke softly, the man not looking the Imp in the eyes.
There was a long moment of Silence before Niko asked coldly.
"What the Hell did you just say?"
Fizz sat there for a moment before sighing softly.
"Look, I get you feel abandoned, but Ozzie, He... Ozzie, he misses you." He spoke softly, reaching out to the Imp, resting a hand on his knee. "He needs you." Fizz spoke softly.
Niko stared at him for a long time before looking away.
"No. He doesn't." He spoke shortly, the man looking to the side. Niko clenching his jaw. "He has you after all. That's all he needs."
Fizzarolli stared at him for several moments before sighing.
"Look, I get it. Your hurt. You feel abandoned. I know..." Fizz rubbed his robotic limb, sighing softly to himself as he felt the metalic limbs. "I know what it is to feel abandoned."
"But Ozzie didn't abandon you Niko." He tried to assure him, Niko showing no reaction as he leaned towards him. "He... He fucked up, i know. But he misses you Niko. He honestly does. He might not say it in so many words, but I know the man, and he regrets what happened that night."
Fizz leaned forwards, sighing softly.
"I've been where you are right now. You need to tell him how you feel or you'll regret it for the rest of your life!"
Niko sat there for a long time, not saying anything, before releasing a deep sigh.
"Look, Fizz-" he quickly cleared his throat. "Fizzarolli. It's nice your trying to help and all that, but well."
He reached over, grabbing a bottle, grumbling as he realises it was empty.
"Put simply, this ain't your call." He sighed, tossing the empty bottle aside. "And I don't need help from a Fucking clown."
Fizz stared at him for a long minute before standing up.
"Your right. It wasn't my call." Fizz hummed, looking at the man.
"... 'wasn't?" Niko asked, looking up at the man.
"Yes. Because now, I'm making it my call."
Leaning over the coffee table, he knocked the bottles to the side, looking at the man.
"I'm giving you a week. 7 days Niko. Then I'm telling Ozzie how you feel. And while you may be able to hide from me, Ozzie won't let you off so easy."
The man stood up, turning and walking away, stopping at the door for a moment, turning to look at him. "1 week Niko."
Niko fumbled over himself, tripping on a bottle as he tried to stop him.
Fizz just shutting the door, heading back to Ozzie.
---
Fizzarolli had no intention of telling Ozzie the truth, not really. The Imp just wanting to see the man act on his emotions, instead of waiting for outside forced to force his hand.
But the mote he thought about it, he realised he was those outside forces, the Imp wondering if he was any better then Mammon.
He felt guilty of course, almsot ashamed of forcing his hand, the clown honestly considering calling it off several times, though every time he saw his beloveds gloomy expression, no doubt lingering on thoughts of Niko, his resolve was reinvigorated.
He honestly fully expected the Imp to call his bluff, Niko seemed the sort to dig in his feet and Fizz didnt have the resolve to fully hold out, expecting his plan to fall through.
So when Niko showed up one busy morning, the man walking into Ozzie's office like he owned the place, dressed in a more casual attire, Fizz was over the moon.
The man shared a cold glare with the Imp, Niko clearly unimpressed with the man, before walking up to Ozzie's desk.
It took a moment for the Sin to realise he was there, Ozzie's eyes bulging, the Sin jumping up as he realised Niko was present.
"Niko!" He practically cheered, the man all smiles as he steps around the table. "It's so good to see you! What do I owe the pleasure?"
Niko breathed deep before sighing, the man looking away from the man.
"I figured I'd hand this off." He spoke curtly, holding out a notebook. Ozzie's expression dimmed as he reached out, taking the notebook.
"What's this?" He asked, clearly disappointed by the revelation.
Niko swallowed the lump in his throat, the Imp not meeting the sin's gaze.
"It's an itemised list. Names and locations of every supplier and their resources in the 7 rings. Figured you could use it." He finished curtly.
A silence hung in the air for several moments, Ozzie anxiously stepping about as he stared down at the Imp.
"Is... Is that all?" He asked, hope bleeding through in the question.
Niko opened his mouth, Fizz leaning in, hopeful, expecting him to say something. Hoping he'd say it. Damn, he'd be happy if he said anything.
But instead he just turned away, shaking his head. "This was a mistake." The man quickly turning, storming off.
Fizz immediately shot into action, the man zipping up to the man, landing besides him.
"Wait Niko, please!" He gripped his arms, pleading with him. "You can do this!"
Niko, doing his best to hold in his emotions, biting his lower lip. "This was a mistake, I shouldn't have come here."
He growled, emotions seeping into his voice.
"Come on, you can tell him." He tried to assure, doing his best to be supportive.
"I don't have to tell him shit!" Niko snapped back, slapping his hands away.
"Tell me what?" Ozzie's voice suddenly cut in, the both of them freezing in place.
Niko went rigid, eyes wide in fear.
"Nothing." He spoke up after several tense moments. "It's nothing Asmodeus, I was just-"
"Stop that!" Ozzie snapped, man suddenly breathing heavy.
Niko, froze, the Imp looking towards the sin.
"Stop acting like everything we've been through, our friendship, means nothing..." The Sin spoke, emotions suddenly thick in his voice. "Your my friend Niko. Probably my best friend. I've considered you it for a long time... please don't act like none of that matters."
Fizz would look to the man, sad to see his beloved so upset, but turning back to Niko, he'd be taken off guard as anger quickly flared.
"Like none of it matters!?" He snarled, looking up to the man for the first time.
"LIKE IT DOESNT FUCKING MATTER!?!?!?!" He yowled.
"I'm not the one who said you don't matter!" He yelled, turning to the man. "I'm not the one who chose soem fucking IMP over you! Now am I!?"
He was angry.
In fact, Niko could barely think he was so angry.
"NO! You abandoned everything we did!" He yelled, throat restricting, eyes burning as tears formed. "You abandoned ME!"
He stood there, panting hard as tears grew in his eyes, the man taking a shuddering breath.
"You abandoned me." He spoke, barely keeping it together. "You meant everything to me."
Hot tears were already streaming down his face, the man barely keeping it together.
"I would have done anything for you. I worshipped you. FUCK, I loved you!!!"
He cried, a sob racking his form.
"... I loved you..."
He held his face, sobbing into his hands for several minutes.
"I... I had no idea." Ozzie spoke up after several minutes.
"Yeah, I know!" Niko snapped. "I know you didn't know cause I told you years ago I loved 'somebody'. Said I was over the moon for him, practically fucking described you to a T, and you know what you told me?! You told me that shit didn't fly on Lust. So yeah, that killed any illusions I ever had I could end up with you."
"And ya know the worse part!? I didn't care!" He sobbed glaring at the man. "I didn't care because I still had you, and that'd all I needed, but now...!?... now I've got nothing."
Niko wiped his face, turning to glare at the man.
"'Sides, you expect me to believe you'd ever get with some nobody like me?" He grumbled, wiping his nose, turning away from the Man.
"Niko." Ozzie began, clearly trying to defend himself, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself.
"Save it." Niko sniffled, the man furiously wiping his nose. "You act all buddy buddy but you didn't even tell me you and Fizz were a thing."
He wiped his eyes, glancing at him. "That's how close we are, huh?!" He growled, tears forming as he snapped.
"You know what, they're fucking right, you are a fucking hypocrite. And a lier. And! And..."
He turned, tears building in his eyes.
"And I hate that I still love you!"
He was barely keeping himself composed, sobbing softly as he held his head in his hands.
Fizz and Ozzie stood there, the two of them completely unsure of what to do as the man had an emotional breakdown.
Fizz was... well, he wasn't sure what to think.
On one hand he wanted him to be honest and tell him about his feelings, which he did...
But he didn't want it to be so confrontational. He wanted him to... well, to be honest with both himself and Ozzie.
"Niko." He began softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. To which Niko slapped him away, snarling at him.
"Don't fucking touch me! You dont get to pity me, not when you got the guy. You don't have the right!" He snapped, tears streaming from his eyes.
Fizz stepped back, shocked at the outbreak.
It was as he stood there, breathing heavily, that Ozzie stepped forwards.
The man moved towards the Imp slowly, Niko still sobbing, hunched over as tears streamed from his face.
"Niko." The Sin spoke firmly, standing over the Imp.
Niko, still in tears, sobbed softly, hunched over, clinging to himself.
"Niko." He spoke again, voice firm.
The Imp wiped his eyes, turning his head to snap at him. "What?!"
Leaning down, the man placed his massive hand against the Imps face. "I'm sorry Niko."
Pushing his hand away, the Imp scowling, gritting his teeth. "Fuck you!" He snapped.
But Ozzie didn't flinch, the man bringing his hand up to cup his tiny body.
"Just stop!" He snapped, but this time his voice was full of emotion, tears streaming down his face yet again.
But Ozzie didn't, instead the man held him, hands cupping his form, pulling the Imp to his massive chest.
"STOP!" Niko sobbed, trying to push his hand away, the Imp still in tears as the Sin held him.
But Ozzie didn't, instead he just held the man even as he cried and squirmed in his grasp.
The Sin slowly pulled him closer, Niko sobbing, angrily trying to push him away, but the Sin didn't respond, simply pulling the Imp close.
The Imp cried, and whined and sobbed as the man pulled the Imp close.
Niko fought it, squirming and writhing, pushing the Sin away as he pulled him to his chest.
"I'm sorry." The sin spoke softly as the man fought and pushed, tears streaming from his eyes as the man resisted.
"No. No. Fucking stop!" He cried, almost pleading. "You can't do this shit!" He cried, pushing the Sin away, only for the muscular embodiment of Sin to pull him closer, holding the Imp to his chest.
"You can't do this!" Niko sobbed, Ozzie pulling the Imp close, the man breaking down, trying to squirm out of his grip, but failing as Ozzie pulled him to his chest, holding the Imp close.
Niko was a sobbing mess, the man smacking his hand against his chest, demanding him to release him as he violently sobbed, trying to escape his grasp, but as he pulled and pushed, he rapidly lose steam, the man crying as he pressed against his firm chest.
"Leave me... please... stop!" He pleaded, sobbing into the man's chest, a great wet spot appearing on his shoulder as he held the Imp close.
"I'm so sorry." Ozzie spoke softly, holding him close. "I'm so sorry I didn't realise."
The Imp cried, sobbing and battering his fist against the man, trying anf failing to escape his grasp, sobbing violently as he smacked his fist into the Sin's chest.
"Just... stop..." the Imp sobbed before he collapsed against the Sin's chest, the Imp crying as he gradually lost his steam.
Niko would collapse against his chest, crying as he gripped his coat, the man having a full on breakdown as he sobbed and cried into his chest.
Ozzie... Ozzie felt awful. His best friend. The one Imp he could always count on had been in love with him for over a decade and he hadn't realised it. Well, really, he hadn't realised cause he hadn't cared too.
Niko was right, he caused this.
Ozzie pulled him close, holding him carefully, the man wanting to show he cared. Yet as the man collapsed against him, Ozzie simply sighed, an expression of shame crossing his face, the sin almost in tears.
Taking a shuddering breath, Ozzie cupped his face as he fell unconscious, Niko utterly exhausted, passing out in his grasp.
"I'm so sorry Niko." He spoke softly, tears stinging his eyes.
Fizz was shocked.
He'd never seen the Sin tear up before, the Jester half believing it wasn't possible, yet here he was.
Ozzie turned to the Imp, reaching out to him. Fizz smiling despite the circumstances, zipped towards him, resting atop his shoulders as then carried the Imp to his bed.
The Sin carried the Imps to the bed, Fiss watching the man with a sympathetic expression, watching the man as the Sin got into bed, pulling the both of them close.
"What's next?" Fizz asked softly, looking to the now unconscious Imp.
Ozzie, wiping the tears from his eyes, took a deep breath.
"I don't know If he'll forgive me. Hell, I'm not sure if he should forgive me, or if I even need to be forgiven." He sighed, rubbing his face.
"I just... I need to show him I care. He... he deserves to know I care about him."
He sighed softly, gently rubbing just below Niko's horns, just as he would to Fizzarolli, Fizz noticing this, not feeling jealous, but realising just how much he cared for this Imp.
"Babe." He began, kissing his cheek. "I love you. Just... be honest with Niko. That's all I ask."
Ozzie froze for a second, smiling at the man.
Pulling him in they shared a passionate kiss.
"I love you froggie." He purred, Ozzie giggling, nuzzling the man.
"Love you too my hunk of burning sin." Fizz giggled back.
The two curled up, embracing each other, getting comfortable as he turned to the unconscious Imp.
"I hope we can work it out. I... I like Niko. I hope it works it out." Fizz hummed, a sense of guilt buzzing through him.
Ozzie just nodded, pulling him close. "Me too... Fizzi-pop." he sighed softly, the Sin looking down at the now unconscious Imp. "Me too..."
This is a sequel to my 'what about me?' Headcanon, I hope you like it.
#helluva boss#headcanon#helluva boss headcanon#x reader#helluva boss x reader#asmodeus#helluva boss asmodeus#asmodeus x reader x fizzarolli#asmodeus x reader#asmo
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so how did someone older jk and oc celebrate new years? A midnight kiss?? :)))
Warning for suggestive stuff? It's not quite new years celebration but I honestly started to drift off way too much for a drabble haha
"Oh no!" You gasp out, earning Jungkook's immediate attention as he looks towards where you're standing in his kitchen.
"What's wrong?" He asks, while you hide your face behind your hands. "Darling?" He questions, as he gets up to walk towards you, a letter opened on the counter.
"Oh god I'm so sorry-" you tell him, visibly shaken. "I'm really sorry, I don't know why I- I think I thought I was home and opened it-" you rambles, hands shaking. "I didn't even read it, I swear, it was just-"
"Darling, hey, look at me." He tells you, turning you away from the scene of the crime to instead fully face him, hands on your shoulders. "You're fine." He states, makes sure to emphasize, as you go through the same steps you both go through every time things like these happen.
Breathe. This is Jungkook. Nothing is going to happen.
"There we go." He chuckles, squeezing your shoulders for a split second before he lets go. "What is it about?" He wonders easily, taking the letter to read it.
"I.. I don't know." You mumble, still ashamed. "I just.. read the first line and realized that it's not addressed to me- I really don't know why I even opened it-" You again state in defense, but his hand reaches out to pull you closer holding you gently by your waist.
"Its about that new year's celebration. I told them I wouldn't go this year.." he simply sighs, before he throws the letter and envelope away. "And it's understandable. You've been spending quite a lot of time here recently- I'll take it as a compliment that you feel like this is home." He jokes easily, hands on your hips as he grins at you.
"Why- if there's an event you're invited to you should go though?" You ask, but he shakes his head.
"I want to spend it with you." He answers. "Except if you'd like to go with me to that event?" He asks, moving your hair out of your face.
"I.. uhm.. would that even be.. appropriate?" You ask quietly. "Given.. you know. The age difference and all.." you worry, but he shakes his head.
"Its not an issue to me at all, if that's what worries you." He shrugs. "We're both adults. And trust me- our age difference wouldn't be the biggest. One of the investors has a wife almost twenty-five years younger!" He laughs. "Or does it bother you?"
"No, not.. anymore." You admit. "It used to. It felt.. a little intimidating. Sometimes it still does but not as much." You explain.
"I'm glad then." He hums towards you. "So?" He questions. "If you'd like to go, we can. I usually don't like events like these, but if you're there I'd go in a heartbeat." He flirts without realizing it.
"I don't even have.. proper attire. I bet those things are super fancy.." you worry, but he just grins.
"I mean, we still got time. I could call up someone, his wife owns a clothing label, we could go and get something fit for you." He shrugs easily.
"Jungkook, no way!" You gasp. "That.. already sounds way too expensive." You worry.
"Not really. I can just tell her to not mention any cost and you'd never know." He impishly grins, as your back rests against the kitchen counter. "Though.. I'd honestly rather take your.. measurements myself." He purrs, leaning in for a teasing peck.
"I'm just.. that's not.." you stammer, easily overpowered by his recently growing confidence in his pursuit of you. Its clear that he's starting to become comfortable with you to the point of feeling confident in his actions, even in how he reassures you whenever you tend to fall back into old fears.
"Oh but it is. I know exactly what she'd need for a pretty dress." He hums. "And while I already think I know your body like my own.."
"I think I need to make sure I got the measurements correct."
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook imagine#bts jungkook imagine#bts smut#bts jungkook fanfic
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heart rhythm.
: once upon a winter, lost notes are reunited.
— ꒰ kunikuzushi ꒱. bittersweet fluff.
content warning. modern au, both kuni and reader are musicians, established distant relationship. apart from that, there is none.
additional notes. i am nineteen today :) thought it'd be fun to write something more personal to me just as a nice little birthday celebration so as a change of pace just like i did last year, i am treating myself in a nice and simple way 🤍
it was but another ordinary day for you — picking up your violin and rearranging a favorite song of yours, treating yourself to dessert, having the regular two cups of tea, having a good read or two at the local library in town, writing down ideas and lastly ending the day by catching up with your lover who's living abroad.
honestly, your usual day-to-day activities have been stale without his presence, that you admitted to him at one point which he, rather characteristically, found amusement in. but the amusement that laced his tone was only a cover-up for the immense joy he felt.
“just about the usual as always?” kunikuzushi inquired at the other end of the line, watching you tune your guitar with an attentive gaze. “i'd say so, yes.” you hum in agreement, still occupied with tuning your acoustic guitar that you haven't touched in a long while.
a smile tugged at your lips as you finished tuning your guitar. with a small sigh, your gaze met his that's behind the screen and you are greeted with him tuning his own guitar. out of habit, you chuckle quietly at the sight. “you didn't tune your guitar beforehand?” “the blame is on you for suddenly deciding to have another music night.”
fair enough, but it was interesting to see him tune his guitar — it's always tuned, and that prompted you to ask: “say, did ajax mess around with your guitar again?” even on the other end of the line, the familiar playfulness present in your voice never fails to make him smile. he hummed quietly, “i don't believe it should be that surprising anymore.”
you presumed correctly. you set your guitar beside your chair, resting its board on the armrest of said chair as you took your cup of tea, taking a sip from it whilst watching him tune his electric guitar and setting up the amplifier in silence. once done, he leaned his back against his chair whilst stretching his arms out, sighing in relief to himself while you smiled.
this was quite a common activity, especially so since it'll almost be a year since he traveled abroad. and the more you dwelled on the reality of it, the more you felt the need to ask. and so, sitting your cup down on the table and with the best smile you could muster,
“...when will you come back, kuni?”
similar to how late night calls and music nights were a common occurrence, that was a common question. you miss him, you really do, so much to a point it hurts having to wake another day without being able to see him or squeeze him gently in your embrace as you slept. it'll be a year since you haven't been able to bask in his warmth, to spend another mundane day with him by your side, to not have been able to see that face of his whenever you decide to assault his face with soft kisses.
his silence made your smile falter slightly. seems that he doesn't have an answer either.
you internally ponder about whether you should've asked that question or not, this silence you earn as a response has become so familiar that it's not as surprising anymore. to relieve it, you hum quietly in acknowledgement, and just as you were about to murmur a quiet apology...
“sometime next month.”
your expression wasted no time in brightening upon hearing his answer. is he serious? “really?” you inquire, your loose grip on your tea cup's handle tightened slightly.
he couldn't help but chuckle softly at your reaction, it's just about what he expected and truthfully? he was delighted to see it. “really.” he parroted in affirmation, resting the side of his head on his hand, small smile widening at the sight of yours brightening in pure unbridled joy.
“now that i gave you a definitive answer, how about we get the night over with?” he playfully inquired, his unoccupied hand bringing his electric guitar to rest on his lap. you eagerly nodded and took your acoustic guitar, setting yourself up more comfortably as you got ready to sing the night away once more this week.
“ready?”
“whenever you are.”
“...i'll take that as a yes.”
you could've sworn you saw an irk mark appear at the top of his forehead at your reply, in spite of his room's dim lighting. but you digress. with a deep breath and acknowledging that you are going first, he began playing the instrumental of the song you chose to sing. a smile tugged at your lips as at the sight of his reaction, the instrumental of your song was quiet... calm, to say the least. but that didn't come as too much of a surprise, the song you chose was a cheesy love song.
your voice remained clear as day to him as you sang, taking him back to the early stages of your relationship in which he would always hear you sing or hum a tune. or even better in his eyes — the tranquil nights in which he's held close; head resting on your chest as he listened to the soothing melody of your heart. your fingers brushing through his midnight locks adding more to that tranquility.
his gaze would on occasion shift from his guitar to you on his monitor screen, smiling to himself as you, which he's sure as hell you chose this song on purpose, are singing this song for him. how he longs to hear that voice of yours once he returns to inazuma... the mere thought of being able to see you for the first time in a year makes him get a tad bit too antsy.
you on the other hand, while missing him dearly and now are getting antsy for his return, were more focused on a specific time in which he had you comfortable on his lap, your newly bought acoustic guitar held in your hands as he, rather gently, guided you on how to play the instrument. you still remember the time you mastered his signature riff, your heart over the moon as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss to your cheek that playfully trailed down to your shoulder, whispering a quiet and love-filled “well done, doll.” right next to your ear.
as your gaze never left his as you two sang the night away, relishing in the familiarity of the moment that took both your minds back to before his journey commenced.
tonight was another to remember.
———
it's been a month since then. late night calls have unfortunately become less frequent since he's gotten busy as of late, opting to catch up via messages instead.
it's been incredibly endearing receiving updates of his whereabouts, from how the band's commission is coming along to daily mundanities; they never failed to bring a smile to your face. however one day, he stopped messaging you entirely. safe to say it left you worried, and you sent as little messages as you can to ensure that you aren't bothering him too much.
last message on the first of december, a minute before you headed to spend some quality time like usual at the library.
you were walking in town now, waving and smiling softly in greeting to a few familiar faces as you made your way to the library. but the walk doesn't feel tranquil at all, not when your mind is taken over by a storm of worried thoughts. even now, you're still checking your phone constantly for at least one message in response. but much to your dismay, there was none.
you attended your violin class with kokomi, a close friend of yours, and she picked up on your uncharacteristics that lingered throughout your entire hangout with her today. not seeing why you should hide it, you spill.
“it was a little too abrupt,” you mumble while taking a sip of your coffee, “i sent multiple messages but he has yet to reply.” kokomi can pinpoint the worry laced in your words, and she only smiles. it's always been endearing to her seeing more of you shine, and only your lover is the only one able to make your serenity falter.
“you worry too much, (name). we've known him long enough to know that this is a habit of his.” she said in a soft tone with a chuckle, taking a sip of her own coffee. her calm tone managed to reassure you through the remainder of the day, but even then, that tinge of worry was still present.
now, it is but a day before your birthday, and you still haven't received any updates. let alone hear anything from him. you slept worried and antsy that night, your fingers fiddling with your blanket as you constantly checked your phone non-stop. but eventually, succumbed to sleep, hoping that nothing happened to him.
the worrisome night flew by. and by the time you woke up to your alarm and was about to turn it off, you were greeted with a pleasant surprise.
you immediately get out of the bed and don't even bother to fix your sleep-tousled hair, getting out of your bedroom and rushing to the door out of sheer excitement.
you were going to see him again.
you don't hesitate in opening the door, and the moment you do, the relief that washed over your body was indescribable as you saw kunikuzushi right before your eyes, you didn't even get to say anything before he pulled you close and interlocked your lips together in a deep and slightly messy kiss, a soft sigh escaping him at the familiar feeling. his hand tangled in your slightly messy hair, your arms wrapped around his neck in an instant as you reciprocated the kiss.
you eventually pull away with a soft breath out, your gaze meeting his as he quietly murmured, “i'm back.” you couldn't help but chuckle at his words, unable to contain your happiness — you leaned in to leave a soft peck to his lips as your hands trailed to his cheeks. smiling in pure, unbridled joy. “welcome back.”
his hand that resided in your hair now cupped your cheek, gently brushing his thumb across your cheekbone with a soft smile playing on his lips. his heart leaped as you did the familiar action of leaning into his touch with a quiet hum. how he missed you.
no words were exchanged as he led you back inside the comfort of your shared home, closing the door behind him while you stretched your body out with a yawn.
“excited to a point you left the house in your pjs. so much for wanting to catch a cold.” he remarked with a chuckle, making his way further in the familiar space and sitting down on the couch, not bothering to take his coat off.
“well, i can't be blamed now, can i? especially with how you suddenly ghosted me for two whole days, shithead.”
“touche.”
you only sighed deeply in relief afterwards, not only is he okay but he's back. all of your happiness emerged from the latter as you fixed up your hair a bit and made yourself comfortable next to him, not wasting time in snuggling up to him. although you couldn't see it, he smiled. his hand tangled in your hair once more, his fingers gently combing through your locks.
there was nothing but a comfortable silence as he held you close, but that didn't remain for long.
“(name),”
“yes?” you said whilst looking up at him, your body stilled as you felt his lips pressed against yours.
“happy birthday.”
#⠀— writings.#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#kunikuzushi#kunikuzushi x reader#scaramouche#scaramouche x reader
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Hey Abigail, I don't know if you'll see this, but I just wanted to say it. You were not out when I started questioning my own identity, and honestly you came out online only a month or two after I finally started to admit to myself that something was off (transgirl - honestly even now I still have a hard time admitting it in any real way on or offline; slowly been getting better at it, found a few friends who accept me online), and it took me so long to admit that. I just wanted to say and ask you one thing each.
Question first - How did you admit it internally? Like, I guess I mean... ugh brain why don't you work? Let me start over; I, personally, doubt every little thing I think and feel... I gaslight myself, and I have no real idea how to stop. I just wanted to ask if you had anything like that happen when you questioned, and if you did, if you have any advice on how to stop? Sorry if this is too personal a question btw, I understand if you don't answer for that reason. But yeah.
Now what I wanted to say... thank you for being here. For being a voice I can look up to, and for just... being you. It's nice to see someone like me being their real self and being proud and everything... so, yeah, thank you.
Thanks for reading if you have, sorry its so long, I tend to ramble, as you could probably guess.
Sounds like the question you're grappling with is "What if I'm incorrect?" which is one I considered briefly after I came out to myself. I knew intellectually that people can have strong feelings about things that turn out to be incorrect, so I thought it would be worth weighing that possibility even though emotionally I had no doubt at all. I asked a trans friend of mine about it (Mia Mulder, as it happens!) and she gave me some very good advice - who cares if you're incorrect if you're happier and better this way? If you're incorrect you can detransition: no harm or shame in trying something out for a few years or even longer and then going, "You know what, this isn't it." Do you want it and are you happy?
"I'd rather have a good time by accident than a bad time on purpose" she said
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Pretty Boy (Boxer!Steve x Librarian!fem reader)
summary: a look into the mind of our favorite brooding boxer; steve has a hard time opening up to you.
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
♡ the steve collection ♡
♡ the king of the ring ♡
warnings: mention of nightmares, trauma talk!: mention of childhood + domestic abuse, steve has some deep-rooted insecurity, angst, hurt/comfort, allusion to smut at the end + soft steve :(
a/n: told from steve’s pov! in writing his pov, I tried to mimic his voice, the writing may seem a little unsophisticated at times. Steve struggles to find words sometimes.
seattle, washington june 1990
When Libby sleeps, she looks like an angel.
Somehow, she always dozes off facing me. Her lashes flutter for a few moments, and then they still. Her lip quivers, her nose twitches, and then they stop. When she searches for me in her sleep, I let her take my hand. She never remembers in the morning, and I allow myself this moment of secrecy. A moment of affection I don't have to pretend to dislike.
And when Libby sleeps, she never has nightmares. She wakes in the morning, well-rested and bright-eyed.
She knows nothing of mine.
It was easier to hide them when we slept apart, and though I'd rather die than be apart from her even in sleep, sometimes I wish for an empty bed to kick and scream at when I wake at midnight for the fourth time this week with the sound of my father's voice in the room. It's fucking stupid, how much the fucker lives in my head. The day I walked out of his house, I swore I'd never think of him again—but I have yet to escape him.
So, when Libby wakes—and I've just spent the last few hours trying to lull myself back to sleep—I take comfort in her voice. It's ridiculous, really, how easily it soothes me.
"Good morning, Stevie," she cooed this morning, stirring in my arms and searching blindly for my head.
Her hand—small, scented of the remnants of her indescribable perfume: like vanilla but not quite, something sweet and flowery but not so much that I have to sneeze, but whatever it was made my chest feel tight every time—skated across the back of my head.
The first time she did that, brushed the hair at the back of my head down with her palm, feathered her fingers through it, I think I shivered. Nobody's ever done that. Before Libby, I never wanted anyone to touch my hair. It was something my mother never did, and now I didn't know how to bear it. But now, I never want Libby to stop. How fucking stupid is that?
So much so, that when she took her hand away, I wanted to reach out and snatch it back, place it back into my hair and let her pet me like a puppy. But I ignored the lurch in my stomach, let her use her hand to rub at her eyes and hide a yawn. Had I taken her hand back, would she have liked it? Would it have been overbearing, too possessive?
"Morning, angel."
Libby hummed—a squeaky pip of a sound—and flopped onto her back. Her hair moved with her, fanning across the pillow like a mane. This position drew her eyes back a little, made them a little wider. Every day, I find new things about her to love. And every day, I find new things I worry will be taken away.
"What's on the agenda today, handsome?" Her voice was always so soft. I'm no good at describing voices, using pretty words to compare them to shit—but Libby's voice sounded like cotton. Fluffy, soft, gentle.
I brought my hand to her face, pressing it against her cheek. I noticed that every time I do that, hold her face and caress it, she softened a little. Her eyes got this little twinkle, like she was seeing a kitten in a storefront.
"Same shit. Training, maybe a late lunch if Big doesn't ride my ass." I hated to admit it. I hated telling her that she was stuck with me all day again, though she swore she doesn't mind it.
But I always saw the way she crumbled a little.
"Oh, okay," she chirped, and a smile came to her face a moment later.
Before I could say anything else, she slipped from my arms. Freed of the crisp confines of the white hotel sheets, she padded toward the bathroom in nothing but her silky nightgown. It was the same one she used to wear back home—orange, covered in flowers, lace around the straps and along her breasts.
It reminded me of days spent rotting in my apartment: hovering behind her while she flipped pancakes on the stove, lounging on the sofa while she flittered and spun around the room listening to Donna Summer on my record player, watching each other's eyes in the afternoon light when we were just waking up. Now, the straps were wearing thin and the lace was starting to tear, but if I bought her a new one, it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't remind me of home.
"Do you think," Libby mumbled around her toothbrush, words sudsing with white foam, "we'll have time to see the Pike Place Market?"
I knew the answer. I knew we wouldn't. But Libby spat toothpaste into the sink and rinsed her mouth with minty wash, and she pulled her hair away from her face to rub cream across her cheeks; she readied herself for a day she'd spend confined in a sweaty, musty gym, reading a book she'd read dozens of times before. She did so much for me. I felt like I didn't do enough for her.
"Yeah. Yeah, baby, we can try," I told her.
The radiant smile I received in response made the lie worth it.
♡ ♡
At least not everything was a lie.
We had time for lunch: a small bistro just down the street from the gym. Training was rough today—Big had been on my ass like fly on shit ever since the incident in Boston. I was training harder, longer, at a frequency that I knew upset Libby. By the afternoon, all the glowing brightness to her face had disappeared, and morphed into something bitter and drawn.
Ketchup splattered with every smack of her French fry in the glob on her plate, and I huffed as speckles appeared on my hand again.
“Libby.” It always came out of my mouth a little too harsh. I never meant to yell when I did.
Libby huffed, dropping the french fry into the ketchup. She reached for her Pepsi, sipping from the striped straw with glossy lips. I watched them close around the end of it and immediately missed the feel of them against me, though I’d just kissed her on the way here. When she set the glass down, I took her hand and brought it to my mouth. Her chin dropped to her other palm, elbow thunking on the table.
A sharp sigh left me before I could stop it, our intertwined hands resting beside the plates. “What’s wrong now?”
Libby’s eyes moved from the window to her picked-at plate. “Nothing.”
‘Nothing’ always meant ‘everything.’ Libby was a notorious pouter—something I usually adored about her. Until she pouted in retaliation for the fact that I couldn’t read her mind. I much preferred the pout that came from too little attention, or when she wanted something without asking for it—that pout was soft an old d doe-eyed, usually followed by a sweet kiss to the cheek. This pout was sour and came followed by huffing and eye rolling.
“Libby,” I sighed, crumpling my napkin in my fist and tossing it onto the table.
Her arms crossed, and the predictable eye roll followed suit. I scowled at the sight of it. Libby, usually sickeningly sweet, had an attitude on her that I dreaded the appearance of.
My fist landed on the table with a noisy bang, rattling the cutlery and causing Libby to flinch. A part of me shriveled when she did that. My chest tightened like a compressed air bag. An apology collected on the tip of my tongue. But would an apology make me look like weak? You lack conviction, Steven. No one’s going to take you seriously, pretty boy. You look like a little pussy. There was my father’s voice again, ringing in my head. I ran my hand through the front of my hair to mess it up. Pretty boy, pretty boy, pretty boy.
“Fuck,” shot from my mouth before I could swallow it, “just…I can’t read your damn mind, Libby.”
I didn't want her to be upset. I didn't want her to pout and roll her eyes and be sour all day—I wanted to see her smile and giggle and blush at the way I teased her. I wanted to have a nice day.
"It's nothing, Steve," she sighed, pulling away from the table to rest back against her side of the booth.
Libby looked off toward the window to her left, and an image of our first date suddenly flashed in my mind. The glimmering sheen of grease on every slice of pizza, the low jazz on the jukebox, the stench of beer on her pretty dress, the way her lips tasted under the streetlight on the way home—like Libby. There was no other way to describe it. She had a taste of her own—like fresh bakery and the sugary coating on a sour gummy worm, but also like artificial strawberry and Coca Cola. I never got tired of that taste in my mouth.
She was upset with me, but later, she wouldn’t be. She always got upset with me, but she always forgave me. At the end of the day, we loved each other. Wasn’t that enough?
I plucked her hand up again when it touched the table, bringing it to my mouth. My lips grazed her knuckles, thumb pressing into the ring on her middle finger that she wore every day. It was old and needed to be cleaned, but it reminded her of home. Like the silk nightgown she wore to bed, it was a piece of home she wasn’t ready to trade in for something new.
“Come on, let’s go to that…that market place.”
Libby’s head whipped from the window, eyes wide as they settled on me. I could see the bitter resolve melting like sugar in water—delight overwhelmed her face. “Really?”
Big and Mikey would frantically call the hotel in search of me, and when they’d find me later, I’d get another lecture about how important this fight was for my career, how I couldn’t ‘fuck around’ anymore. Have some responsibility, pretty boy. You gonna be somebody’s bitch your whole life? Fuckin' pussy. Pretty boy, pretty boy, pretty boy.
“Yeah, angel. Grab your stuff, come on.”
♡ ♡
The 'market' reeked of fish.
But Libby walked around, paper cup of gelato in hand, licking spoonfuls as she wandered from stands of fish to tables of beaded jewelry, eagerly soaking in the chaotic sounds and scents of the market. My sunglasses did little to combat the thumping in my temples, but I did my best to grit my teeth and endure the overwhelming stimulations. I knew when she found the corner of leather-bound books and handmade bookmarks that we'd be there a while.
When she began to protest the appearance of my wallet and the stack of cash headed the merchant's way, I pinched her lips between my fingers and kissed the tip of her nose. Her arms found their way around my stomach, cheek pressed to my back, and as the merchant wrapped her new books and journal in paper, she just held me. Even against all the nautical stenches and earth shattering noises that amplified the pain in my head, I could've stood there all day just to feel her arms around me. When Libby hugged me, she really hugged me. With all her strength, a pressure both comforting and soothing. She made sure I knew she was there.
"I need to get this fuckin' fish smell off me," I grumbled on the way into the hotel room, kicking the door shut behind us.
Libby flopped on the neatly-made, discarding her purse to the side before scrambling to unfold the paper around her books. She'd sit and admire them for hours if she could, cooing about the 'craftsmanship' of the leather and its 'embossment,' fawning over the color they chose to stain it with. She once spent forty-five minutes in an aisle of pens to find the perfect one, and came away with a regular old black ballpoint that she claimed 'had the perfect run.'
I never understood what Libby was talking about, but fuck did I love her.
"Okay. Wanna order some room serv—"
The phone on the nightstand shrilled, and Libby rolled onto her side to pluck it from the cradle. "Hello? Oh, hi, Mom!"
I inched toward the bathroom, hand still on the doorknob. Libby took her new journal in her hand and grinned, running her fingers over the spine. Her mouth moved like a motor, gushing over the hours spent in the market. I pushed the bathroom door open and glanced over just once more in time to see her nose scrunch with a giggle. She caught my eyes in the sliver of the door before it shut and grinned.
I thought about that smile the whole time in the shower. I ached at the image of it behind my eyes. I listened as closely as I could over the patter of the water to catch every giggle that I could.
Dripping across the tiles, I ruffled a towel through my hair and avoided looking into the mirror as I approached the sink. Libby's bag of makeup sat on its side atop the marble. I fingered through the tubes and compacts until I found a familiar tube of lotion. I plucked it out, sniffed the cap, and paused. Pretty boy, pretty boy, pretty boy. One day, Libby put too much in her palms, and swiped them over mine to share the creamy mixture. The scent lingered for hours, left my hands soft and smelling like Libby. Dad would've kicked my ass for something like that. I tossed the lotion back and yanked open the door.
"Steve! We have neighbors!"
Libby skittered toward the window, running along the length of the glass to draw the drapes shut. I shrugged, bending toward the luggage to rifle through my clothes. "Free show for them."
Libby shook her head, sliding back onto the bed, lounging on her stomach. Despite her temporary irritation with me, I could see her head tipping and her eyes wandering in the corner of my eye as I pulled a t-shirt over my head and sweatpants over my hips. I shuffled toward the bed, coming to a stop with my neglected hard-on placed in front of her.
"You gotta pay the toll though," I told her, cupping my hand under her chin to give it a squeeze.
Libby giggled, shoving my hand away. "You're so gross."
I pouted. "Thought you liked my dick in your mouth, baby."
She shot to her knees on the bed, jaw dropping. "Steve." A laugh rattled my name.
I curled a finger toward me, reaching for her arm when she didn't move fast enough. "C'mere, want a kiss."
Libby's smile smoothed. "Wait, I gotta tell you something. My mom called, she said..."
She captured her lip between her teeth and dropped her eyes toward my chest. Every alarm in my head started ringing. Did someone get hurt? Did they tell her to come home? Did they tell her to leave me?
"What?"
Libby pushed up on her knees, bringing her hands to my shoulders. They rubbed and squeezed, kneading and massaging in the way they only do when she's nervous to tell me something.
"She said she bumped into your mom at the store."
My eyes couldn't move from her face, pinched with worry. She rubbed harder, trailing her hands up the sides of my neck to cup my face.
"Steve?"
My mother. Blonde hair wound up, green eyes, silver watch, the stench of red wine, the sharp snap of a pill case. She stopped calling me Steve at nine years old. Steven came with a venom spit like pills pinging across the tile of the bathroom floor. Vomit in the toilet. My mother was much heavier than I thought she’d be. She begged me not to tell dad. Her green eyes wore a purple ring for a week when he found out.
“My mother,” I echoed.
Libby nodded. The image of her in front of me blurred, like she was standing behind frosted glass. “I just…thought you’d want to know. I know you don’t…talk to them, or about them. But I just—Steve?”
Libby smelled like all the good things in life. Her hands were soft and warm and so much smaller than mine, and I always wanted them on me. But right now, it was getting hard to breathe. Her hands were strangling me. My defenses were rattled. I was twelve years old covering my ears in my closet, screaming into a baseball jersey.
I shoved at Libby's hands, tearing them away from me. She sank down to her heels again, but the image of her in my periphery became a blob when I began to pace. The room no longer smelled like all things good and Libby—it smelled like that house. That god awful fucking house in Indiana. When I felt like dying, the world always smelled like that house.
"Steve? Hey, just...talk to me, baby, please." That cottony voice tickled my ears, but it couldn't penetrate the fog.
I paused in front of the mini bar. The little bottles of liquor enticed me. My mother's poison was wine and pills. My father's was whiskey. Sober or drunk, they were always the same.
"Steve?"
When I got a little tipsy, I started to hear their words coming out of my own mouth. Don't be such a fuckin' pussy. What are you good for? Pretty boy, pretty boy, pretty boy.
I couldn't be around Libby right now. I didn't want her to see me like this. I turned to make for the door, but she was on me—scurrying from the bed and tripping over her bare feet to place her hands on my chest.
"Hey, hey, baby, please. Y-you're scaring me, I...what can I do?"
I kept my eyes above her head, on the exit in sight. One look into those eyes and I'd sink to my knees, spill all my secrets. I couldn't look weak in front of her. Pretty boy. She'd never see me as anything but some whiney little puppy, something broken to be fixed. I didn't need anyone to fix me. I didn't need anyone to help me. Pretty boy. I was doing just fine on my own. I'm not weak. I'm not weak.
"Do you want to talk about i—"
"—no."
Libby's hands felt so heavy on my chest. "Steve," she sighed, but there was an edge to it, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."
I knew the moment I looked at her that whatever face I was making pierced her with hurt. Her eyes welled in the way they do only when I make her cry. I wish I didn't do that.
"I don't need your fuckin' help." I said it too mean. I always do.
My fists were buzzing with the telltale thrum of restlessness. They needed to feel impact, they needed to hit. I could only take so many before I started needing to make some myself. Getting hit didn't feel nearly as good as hitting back. In boxing, I got to do both.
"Why are you acting like this? Steve, just...talk to me, please. I'm begging you—"
Oh god. "Oh, God, Libby, what the fuck? Don't—don't do that!"
The room seemed to be shaking. The way it used to shake when Dad started hitting and I knew I could hit back, I envisioned all the ways I should hit back, but my arms were limp. The way it used to shake when I tried to clean Mom up once Dad's car left the driveway, but she screamed until I thought my ears would bleed.
"Do what? Steve, please, I'm just trying to help you—"
The image of her standing in the middle of the hotel room sliced through me, but the words were already shooting out of me. The edges of the room were already turning black. I couldn't stop the rattling in my chest.
"—well stop! I don't want your help—I don't need your help, Elizabeth."
For a while, all I heard were the huffs of my own breath. I'd never seen Libby so motionless, not even in her sleep. She twitched, her eyes roamed behind her eyelids, her feet kicked beneath the covers. Now, she did nothing but blink and breathe, and stare at me.
"I won't love half a man, Steve."
My chest moved with such force under each breath that I could see every rise and fall beneath my nose. Libby's nostrils flared. Her eyes welled with tears.
"That's what you are. Look at you, Steve—you're hiding. All this time, you've been hiding this other part of you. And I can't...I can't just...wait around forever until you figure it out on your own. You're not on your own. We're partners, Steve, you and me. But you never talk to me."
A sour taste arrived in my mouth. I hadn't thrown up since I got food poisoning in eighth grade. Right now, I was coming close. I didn't know what to say, or how to say it. How could I make this better? How could I fix it? Would she leave me now?
"You think about that," she insisted, pointing a polished finger my way.
The bathroom door slammed closed, the muffled rummage of drawers and cabinets opening following suit. The rumble of water filling the tub came after. I found the edge of the bed with slow steps, desperate for some sort of softness. The brightness of the room brought the pain back to my eyes. My own voice, screaming at an octave I now became embarrassed of, made my head feel swollen and tender. I flinched when the water sloshed on the other side of the door.
"Steve?"
The room was so quiet. I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep. Not until I felt something soft beneath my cheek, and something small rocking my shoulder. The brightness had dimmed to a purplish light, beaconing over my feet at the end of the bed. Libby smelled freshly cleaned, like hotel soap and her face cream. Her lips left a minty imprint on my cheek.
"You okay? I can get your medicine if your head hurts—"
The pain had simmered to a dull ache. All I wanted was her in my arms. I found her in the darkness, wrapping my hand around her arm and giving it a pull until she flopped onto the other side of me. I yanked her against me like she'd been gone for years. It was selfish, I know. But all I needed was her. I hoped she understood that I was sorry.
"Just want you."
Libby pressed her nose to my throat. It felt like an icicle. "Okay."
I never understood how she could forgive me that easy. I'm still trying to forgive myself for half the shit I did to her.
"I don't like talking about them. They're...they're shit excuses for parents."
Libby rubbed her nose against my throat. I let my eyes sink closed, chin resting atop her head. "It's just me, Stevie. And no matter what you tell me, it's never gonna change how I feel about you. Alright?"
I'd never believe that. "Okay. And I'll...I'll tell you all about it, just..."
"At your own pace."
I nodded, pressing my hand to her back to bring her closer. I wasn't sure she could get any closer. "Yeah, at my own pace."
Libby latched her mouth onto my throat. A grunt stirred my cock in my pants. Her hands slid along my sides, still sporting bruises from the last match, and I fell to my back. Her weight pressed down on me, knees bookended on either side of my torso. Her hair tickled my cheeks as her mouth dampened my neck. Her ass fit perfectly in my palms, enough to squeeze and slap. She jerked against me when my hand came down in even the gentlest pat.
"Let me take care of you," tickled my throat.
I nodded, cock aching and straining against the thin cloth of my sweatpants. She knew just where to fix me—where to wrap her hand and squeeze.
"I'm sorry, angel," I gasped, stuttering around the firm glide of her hand up my shaft.
Libby kissed across my jaw. "I know. Just let me take care of you, Steve."
I could do that. I could be taken care of. In her hands, I was safe.
♡ ♡
#rolly!#boxer!steve harrington#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x y/n smut#steve harrington x female reader smut#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington angst#boxer!steve#joe keery#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem#steve harrington series#steve harrington smut#stranger things fic#steve stranger things#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#steve the hair harrington
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In search of freedom (Ch. 7)
7. What do you wish for?
⠀⠀➺ fic masterlist
⠀⠀➺ Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8
⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.
Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa
Warnings for this chapter: angst, graphic depictions of deaths and fatal wounds, self-harm, brief suicidal mention, canon-typical violence, tiny bit comfort at the end
Word count: 8,4 k
Theme song: fic spotify playlist (click on the link)
A/N: I'm glad I could finish the chapter so early and there are some scenes in here that I really loved writing. Also, I want you to pay close attention to the fight Witch has with the fishman. The anime watchers and manga readers that got far enough with One Piece will probably get it faster ;)
I'd be happy to hear your opinions on this chapter. Every interaction is appreciated and thank you so much for sticking to this story till now <3
The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".
"What is your dream?"
While she would've rather expected that question to come from Luffy, the tipsy Zoro by her side, leaned against the mast, seemed to be rather intrigued by her reasons to remain with Luffy.
When she turned her head towards him, one of her suppositions was proved to be right: the stars above shone beautifully, but nothing could compare to the swordsman's brown eyes. In the dark, his dark chocolate irises were swallowed by pupils dark as the depths of the oceans. No. Dark and beautiful as the night sky she teared her gaze away from.
Her silence could've been interpreted in many ways and Zoro might become suspicious, but his already flushed state seemed to swallow everything in. He only looked back at her.
The witch couldn't exactly spot the specific aura of his gaze. He wasn't only flushed because of the alcohol, no. He seemed… soft, even. His shoulders were relaxed and the grip on the empty bottle loosened up.
His question was simply something she didn't expect, as he was always down to earth, similarly to Nami. However, there was a tiny difference — he proudly admitted he wanted to become the strongest swordsman in the world.
"I—," the word left her lips like a mere whisper.
Her determination faltered under the weight of the alcohol. Until that moment, after sharing some ugly parts of her past, his remarks made her laugh and chuckle happily.
"I want to be free."
One simple wish that could have so many connotations.
"I don't see any rope around your wrists."
His voice was like a low rumble coming from the depths of his chest, such a pleasant and soothing sound.
Their eye contact didn't break. Their gazes were locked together and she couldn't bring herself to be mad about it, especially when she was drunk enough to let vulnerable sides of her poor soul see the light of the stars.
Faint, shy, but it was there.
"I want to be free from myself and the expectations everyone has of me," she clarified. "Free from the rules of the world, written or unwritten. Free from the Marines that are now on my tail."
"Why did you become a pirate if you wanted to be free from the Navy?"
"The sea always looked like a place where I could be free," she admitted with a weak voice. The same tiny voice her younger self used to have when dreaming of a future.
Zoro knitted his eyebrows together and blinked, staring at the small beauty mark on her face he just noticed. He seemed deep in thought or rather trying to figure out the meaning of her words.
He was rarely so concentrated outside of critical situations like fights.
"Are you free now, then?"
With a gulp, she shook her head.
"No."
One word. One heavy weight on her soul.
"How do you wanna be free?" came another question from the swordsman.
"I have no clue."
The cage around her was a metaphor. She always felt like iron bars squeezed her tighter and tighter, until she broke down, a situation that occurred only a few times a year and was always hidden from prying eyes.
Realistically, there was no free place in that world. The Marine wasn't by any means as righteous as they wanted to look like and they were certainly not saviors. Of course, there were plenty of pirates that did nothing else but harm everyone and everything they laid eyes on. Some of them had ugly souls, dark and dirtied by greed.
However, there were plenty of people that were so-called pirates and yet never harmed unless they had to protect someone. Like Luffy or Usopp. They never took anyone's life.
Like her father.
She wasn't one of those pirates. The witch has killed people, even if never solely for blood thirst. Or, at least, not yet. She deserved to die, to never see the light of a new day.
A personal justice system — that's what she's always had, that's what she grew to learn about from the crew she left barely a year ago.
Deep down, she knew she would never be free. There was no liberty for a monster.
When she looked at Zoro, she also wanted him to taste freedom on his tongue. Maybe he already knew what that felt like.
If she couldn't find her own freedom, she could settle for protecting her friends' freedom. That would be more than enough, right?
"Aren't you at fault for your own lack of freedom?" Zoro pulled her out of her thoughts.
His question might've sounded as insensitive and accusing, but she was aware the swordsman didn't mean it that way. He always had his own way with words and, unfortunately, he got misinterpreted most of the time.
He was simply stating a probable truth.
Then I suppose I should get rid of my—
No. There was no time to think of such things, even if she was drunk and vulnerable. Admitting that to his face would be shameful of her.
Maybe she wasn't that ready to share secrets yet, was she?
"I most probably am," the witch whispered as she averted her eyes back to the sky splattered with stars. "At the end of the day, I'm the only one taking into account what others say and how they affect me."
She didn't know exactly how to pursue freedom, but she was certain of something else: if that beautiful future stood in front of her, Zoro was probably one of the ways to find out.
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•
The witch wasn't able to find freedom if she died at that moment, with the blue hand of a fishman gripping at her throat. There was a lingering ache at the crown of her head from when he pushed her against the wall.
Her eyes squeezed shut while life seemed to slip from her hold, the same way her fingers lost their force while clutching onto the fishman's forearm. She had to find a way to get out of there, to breathe, because her lungs were already begging for some oxygen. Her vision was getting blurry and the pain in her entire throat spread like fire through her body.
Maybe it was because of her hyper-aware state, but she could swear the wound on her bicep was bloody again considering the sharp pain shooting through her arm.
No. There was no time to die and beg for forgiveness — and whose forgiveness could she ask for if she stays alive? Exactly. No one's.
The witch didn't know if she breathed in air or it just felt awfully familiar to that sensation, but her lungs suddenly swallowed something fresh and powerful. It ate the pain hungrily, destroying every doubt in her mind the more she thought of her promises, of the corpse of a father who still whispered in her dreams "go find your freedom".
The grip on the fishman's arm grew tighter, stronger, until her nails dug into the scales and penetrated them. Her fingers ached, the skin around her nails scratched harshly by the sharp broken scales. Fresh blood surfaced.
Her eyes opened up slowly, burning with each one of her promises, this time including her own — If I can't find freedom, I'll make it.
Every nerve in her body burnt and she tasted drugs on the tip of her tongue, an addiction threatening to clutch onto her and take control.
Power.
The witch has never been one to love power, to ache for it and yet, there she was, with a devil-like grin growing on her face.
Power.
It ate her alive and she loved that sensation. The steadiness of her heartbeats, the cage of ribs that broke to make place for that overwhelming feeling.
Power will never take control of me.
Her eyes bore holes through the fishman's entire being. There was no need for her revolver when two shining irises had the same effect.
Her vision and mind has never been clearer.
The fishman was struck. A weight settled on his shoulders, pulling him down, doubts flickering in his head.
Claws sank into his eyes, into his face and throat, clutching at his heart, threatening to pull it out of his chest.
The fishman stumbled and dropped her.
His strong grip on her throat left blooming red marks. They were ugly and her neck felt tender, but her nerves didn't register the pain properly because of the adrenaline running through her veins.
The witch immediately took the opportunity, despite the lack of air in her lungs. She crouched down to take her gun, but before she could shoot again, a loud sound got her attention.
The door of the restaurant broke at the floor underneath her when Luffy got thrown right into it by Arlong.
On the side of the stairs where Usopp crawled down was Sanji struggling to get back up after he cracked his back at the harsh contact with a table.
People were hiding under chairs and bars from the fishmen's wrath.
Her anger was fueled by each single detail. One of her shoulders felt light, while the other was heavy. The monster lurking inside her had one eye open — the same one that pushed her to cuss out Mihawk back when Zoro got a cut through his chest. The same monster she wouldn't trade anything for, because wrath has always been her forte.
The small flame of revenge started burning in the pits of her stomach. Steadily. Still vague, easy to control.
She ran down the stairs and passed by Usopp, who was at that moment helping Sanji get on his feet. The witch got out of Baratie, suddenly stopping in her tracks when she saw Arlong standing a few meters in front of her.
That fucker—
Luffy shouted something along the lines of Gum Gum and she knew that was his fight to deal with.
However, it was a fight she didn't know if he would win at that time, considering the way Arlong only turned his head to the side when he got punched in the face by Luffy's fists. The fishman spat blood on the wooden floor while he stepped closer and closer to the Straw Hat.
In a fraction, the punch Luffy received sent him flying in the sails of a boat and he fell down with a thud, grunting. It was stupid of him to provoke Arlong further, but Luffy has never been to give up or let his enemies feel the satisfaction of a victory without a proper fight.
The witch wondered if her captain didn't break a rib or two after being punched and thrown around for so long. He still had the energy to throw his fists into Arlong's face with all he's got, using his rubber arms to attack from meters away.
His Devil Fruit powers were definitely the only reason why he was alive.
But not for much longer.
Arlong muttered something with a growl and once he sank his hand in the water, the witch knew it wasn't going to end well.
The fishman didn't just splash Luffy; no, he soaked the Straw Hat to the bone and the hit with both sea water and brute force got Luffy to the ground. It was his biggest weakness.
The witch's eyes widened when she saw Arlong grabbing at Luffy's shirt and lifting him in the air, opening his mouth to reveal razor-sharp teeth.
Her feet carried her for only a second and she almost shouted out for Luffy out of despair — she would rather be stabbed in the stomach countless times than feel helpless again. Out of instinct, the hand holding the gun raised, aiming at—
"Arlong, wait!"
Nami.
The witch snapped her head towards her friend.
The orange-haired woman stomped her feet and came, leaving the Going Merry behind her. The tank-top she wore exposed a strange old tattoo on her left shoulder. She was clutching tightly onto a thin and long cylinder.
"I have it," she addressed Arlong. "I have the map."
The map.
"I got it for you, just like I said I would."
The witch blinked away the confusion that almost made her hazy and stepped in front of Nami, stopping her from moving forward.
"Nami," the witch knitted her eyebrows together. "What's going on?"
Nami's eyes held no clear emotion besides a flicker of anger.
"Exactly what you knew all along."
It was one of those times when the witch wished her tarot was wrong.
She shook her head, one of her hands gripping at Nami's wrist.
"Nami," the witch squeezed her friend's hand tighter, scared it would slip from between her fingers.
"Let go."
Nami snatched her arm out of the witch's hold and her jaw ticked. She wasn't only annoyed, there had to be more in her eyes.
"You cannot possibly tell me you want to do this," the witch insisted, stepping even closer, until she was one breath away from the navigator.
Their intense gazes clashed together and none of them let the walls fall.
"But here I am, ain't I?" Nami cocked an eyebrow.
When the orange-haired passed by, her shoulder collided harshly with the witch's who was still stuck in place.
No fucking way.
The witch needed time to think, she had to search for some clarification with her tarot cards. She needed more time to read the energy, to figure out the situation, to understand what, where, why and when. Nothing made sense and time passed by so fast she couldn't even process it all.
Luffy was so disoriented he didn't even pour enough force in his hands to get rid of Arlong's grip on the collar of his shirt.
"Nami?" he firmly spoke. "What are you doing?"
"I tried to tell you, Luffy," Nami continued walking towards him. "I was never on Your crew. I only joined up with you so I could steal the map."
"I don't believe that," Luffy denied.
"That's because you only believe what you want to believe. Doesn't make it true."
Nami, for fuck's sake, we both know you're lying—
The witch opened her mouth, ready to argue, to yell from the top of her lungs, but with one glance thrown to Arlong, she stopped. Saying the wrong thing might get Nami in great danger and she might lose credibility in front of him.
"Sister Nami's a loyal member of the Arlong Pirates," Arlong started speaking, pointing with his chin towards the one in question. "She has been for years."
The witch didn't know why she still protected Nami, but she was certainly not going to give up on her friend at that time.
Nami shoved the map in Arlong's nose to get his attention to her — or maybe the witch has gotten to another level of delusion.
"Why waste your time killing a Devil Fruit eater?" Nami reminded the fishman as if it wasn't a death sentence. "Let the sea do it for you."
"Nami, this is too far, cut the crap—" the witch revolted immediately.
Before she could make any step towards Luffy, she was grabbed by the back of her neck and launched into the wall of Baratie with sheer force — it was one of Arlong's asshole crewmates. She groaned in pain and squeezed her eyes. The shoulder she fell on sent sharp spikes through the entire left side of her body.
She cussed out, struggling to get back to her feet when Arlong let Luffy drown in the sea. The witch let out a shout of the Straw Hat's name and one of her knees betrayed her, resulting in another unceremonious fall to the ground.
Lucky for her, an arm curled around her front to help her up, a silver ring resting on the finger of the man.
"Luffy fell in the water, go now!" she didn't even wait to be properly raised to her feet to urge Sanji to jump.
Her aching body and the lack of strength wouldn't help her get Luffy out of the sea. She didn't even clearly notice when the cook left her side and jumped into the sea, too caught up in the agitation inside of her. Events passed by her faster than light. All she saw was a discarded shirt.
She wasn't sure because of what powers she managed to walk on the deck, at the edge where the other two should appear from under the water. Her head turned when she recognized Usopp from her peripherals.
"Luffy?" he asked, panic building up as his hands shook.
The witch would have responded if not for the answer to appear right under their noses. Sanji held Luffy tightly by the collar and pushed him on the dock with Usopp's help who dragged him.
The witch extended her hand to bring Sanji on the dock with them and since then, things turned blurry despite her open eyes.
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•
Now the only woman in the crew, the witch sat on the floor in the room that used to be Nami's, her back leaning back against the wooden wall. With eyes devoid of life, she stared up at the ceiling while pulling her knees closer to her chest, once again trying to hide herself from everyone. From everything.
On Nami's bed there was still an inert swordsman and he didn't even flinch when she tentatively said his name after entering the room.
"Fucking dammit," she squeezed her eyes shut.
Nami left. Zoro was unconscious. Luffy almost drowned if not for Sanji. Usopp was bluffing about how "everything has to be alright".
She didn't know if he was trying to convince himself or her.
Because everything was wrong. It felt wrong.
The witch took in a deep breath, but only half of the oxygen she inhaled got to her lungs and brain because of her constricted throat. Tears were sitting on her waterline for the fourth time that day.
Too much happened since the crack of dawn and it wasn't even sunset.
Exhaustion made her look years older than she was. Her head fell forward, forehead hitting her knees before the light sneaking through the windows could fall on her face.
Tears filled with anguish ran down her cheeks and it was the first time she allowed herself to let at least an ounce of the weight on top of her body dissipate. The droplets of pain melted down her cheeks and sank into the material of her shirt.��
The witch sneaked her arms around the back of her thighs and squeezed herself tighter in a ball, lips trembling. Her breathing was ragged not only because of the lump in her throat, but also because of the firm grip that fishman had on her neck. The skin was sensitive to the touch and it hurt to swallow.
Every event of that day got added one on top of another. Her fight with Zoro, the fact that he was unconscious after that dwell, Nami leaving just like the witch expected to.
Betrayal. Maybe I was a fool for trusting her.
Or am I?
Teeth sank so deeply into her lower lip it drew blood and she tasted copper on the tip of her tongue.
Pain. That was right.
The only right thing happening that day was the physical pain. Palpable, real, bringing her back to earth.
Except that time it failed, because the tears didn't stop. She squeezed her eyes shut as sharp pain traveled through her body, from her chest into her limbs, puncturing each nerve, shaking her to the core.
Her soul screamed, caged by sorrow, an ugly animal that sank its fangs into her flesh and ripped from the inside. Blood was pouring from her heart, soaking organs and bones, melting into the skin like acid. It burnt so fastly, yet it never seemed to end. With a throbbing head, she couldn't hold the pain back anymore.
However, no sound ever left her lips parted in a silent scream. No whimper, no sob, no cry for help. The room was filled with silence as a heartbeat drummed in her ears in an agonizing rhythm.
I shouldn't have come on this ship in the first place. Only if I had been wise enough to leave when I got the chance. Syrup Village was a perfect option, I could've gone on another ship and continued my mindless traveling. Why did I bother myself with this? Why did I suddenly decide it was a great idea to be part of another crew when this only has brought me suffering?
With each second, she willingly aimed the gun at herself and every word was like a bullet.
I should've left. I would've been happier. I should've left it all behind when I realized this won't go well. Fuck the premonitions, fuck the destiny, damned be the world.
A body stripped of clothes and skin, only burnt flesh left behind the monster's bites. Broken ribs and a shattered heart pumping a meaningless life.
As seconds passed by one after another and her tears came to an end, the gentle swinging of the ship pulled her into a half-asleep state.
She noticed when Luffy came into the room and she was aware of his position on Zoro's bed — the cracking of the wood gave him away. As the Straw Hat talked, she only heard the swordsman's name being spoken, some words here and there, but most of his monologue was muffled.
He probably thought she was asleep because of her slow and steady breathing.
Exhaustion was clawing at her muscles and brain, but something kept her aware of the surroundings for a few more minutes.
Everything turned pitch black in her perspective. A husky and deep voice made her believe she was dreaming, the tips of her mouth curling shily upwards.
Only if it would've been reality.
"Zoro!"
Her entire body flinched and she raised her head, wide eyed. If she didn't know any better, she would've said her soul jumped out of her.
"Luffy?" she whispered, confused on why he yelled the swordsman's name—
"You're not dead!" Luffy shouted again, loud enough for everyone in Baratie to hear.
He's alive? the witch thought to herself. I really heard his voice.
Luffy crawled on top of Zoro and squeezed the life out of him. Literally.
"Now I wish I was," she heard Zoro mumble between grunts.
He was alive.
The witch's lungs filled with fresh air for the first time that day. Relief washed over her and her body relaxed, shoulders deflating as some of the weight sitting on them fell into the sea below.
While leaning her body against the wall, she managed to get up just to get a better view of the swordsman who was squinting his eyes at the ceiling. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, head falling forward.
At least one thing went right, didn't it?
After Luffy got up from above Zoro, the swordsman managed to take some deep gulps of air, chest raising up and falling rhythmically.
"I had the strangest dream that Nami left," he said with a frown on his face as he closed his eyes.
"She did," the witch responded faintly.
There wasn't enough courage in her to look at him as she said that, instead choosing to glance at the window.
Zoro looked again at the ceiling and realized her voice was too faint for all of that to be a mere joke, a prank thrown at him for staying unconscious for… for how long?
"It's my fault," Luffy said with his chin lowered.
From the corner of his eye, Zoro saw the witch place a hand on their captain's shoulder.
"We'll find a way."
There was a promise etched onto her fragile smile. As if a simple brush of air or one wrong world could make her crumble.
But she didn't. Instead, she threw a knowing look to Zoro and silently told him to talk with Luffy. She knew the Straw Hat needed his first mate's support at that moment.
What confused Zoro the most was watching the witch get out of the room without too much of a word. Her hair bounced as she stepped further away from him and their friends. Even as his ribs and body hurt at every inhale, he wanted to understand the real reason for her leaving.
Last time they talked, she expressed worry. What happened in the meantime? What the fuck went wrong?
There was a fat chance she was still mad at him for whatever reason. Sure, she was calm, collected, but he could swear he's seen fire burning in her eyes more than just once and a grin splayed on her face at the thrill and adrenaline of a fight. She snapped at him when they fought and he had to admit it would've been sadder if she treated him with silence.
However, he didn't know if that was silence or something more.
Weird, he concluded.
His attention went back to Luffy. The swordsman couldn't manage watching the ever happy-go-lucky captain speak like a ghost.
"You didn't do anything wrong." He seriously hoped he could find the right words to bring Luffy back to reality.
There's no way that crew would fall apart without a proper fight. What has been was just the beginning.
"You acted like a captain."
"But the crew is falling apart," Luffy pulled his lips in a tight line.
"No, it's not," the green-haired firmly affirmed.
Maybe a lot more than Zoro thought has happened, but that was definitely not the end.
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•
Before the sun could set and hide in the sea, they gathered some supplies for their new journey. They found out from the clown head — who they found out told Arlong where to find the Straw Hats — that Nami was most probably heading to Conomi Islands, specifically Cocoyashi Village. Sanji joined their crew, which made Luffy jump in excitement for the second time that day.
Luffy's folded arms were resting over the railing of Going Merry while he stared down at the water splashing against the ship.
"Does it always take so long?" Luffy spoke so softly.
Sanji chuckled with the fishing rod in his hand as he waited for a fish to catch the bait.
"We've only been here for two minutes, be patient," the cook reminded him. "Some days, they bite as soon as you drop the line and some days, it takes hours."
Then, he threw a knowing glance towards Luffy with an arch of his eyebrow.
"But we're not talking about fishing, are we?"
"I highly doubt it," the witch mumbled as she curled her fingers around her tarot deck.
She didn't dare to shuffle through the cards again, a side of her afraid of what was waiting for them. It felt uneasy everytime she got the impulse of taking the cards out and finding out which one of them holds the truth.
The witch was leaning with her back against the railing, not so far away from the Straw Hat, pressing her fingertips into the old box made of cardboard that fit perfectly in her hands.
Luffy smiled towards Sanji before he stared into the horizon with hope.
"I just want to know if Nami's okay."
"A beautiful, talented woman does not choose to ally herself with a pirate like Arlong," Sanji said firmly, convinced of his beliefs. "Nami clearly needs to be rescued."
The witch breathed in deeply and widened her eyes, trying to find the right words to tell them what she knew. A pair of heavy steps caught her attention and she immediately recognized the chiming filling the air.
Zoro. His hand was resting on his Wado Ichimoji — his only sword now.
"Her tattoo says different," he said.
The way he looked at the witch was bringing back to life some shattered pieces of her soul. He might look serene when sleeping, but he was better that way — wide awake and an asshole.
Also, he noticed something she couldn't pinpoint. There must've been a scar on her face, most probably. At first, he only stared at her face, just to lower his gaze. Oh. She didn't sleep for two days and got in a fight with a fishman, which left some nasty bruises on her bare neck.
"Well," Sanji argued, "tattoos don't tell the whole story. And like any woman, she's a mystery to be unraveled."
"Am I supposed to feel flattered?" the witch arched her eyebrow at the cook after she turned her head towards him.
Right at that moment, Zoro stepped between her and Luffy, restricting her view. All she could see was his chest, bandaged and with a red patch in the center.
"You should change your bandages," she looked up at him.
However, the witch was hesitant when she did so. As if the man in front of her could vanish in thin air.
Zoro turned to Sanji and decided to completely ignore her comment.
"Nami made her choice."
The cook immediately frowned, creases appearing on his forehead. His scowl was deeper than Zoro's.
"You don't know why," Sanji retorted.
As if getting snapped by Usopp, Zoro scoffed:
"The only thing I want to hear from you are dinner specials. You don't know Nami."
"Sounds like you don't know her either, Mosshead," Sanji spat with a taunting smile on his lips.
"Oh God, stop, you two," the witch sighed heavily, annoyed.
Just to get the swordsman's attention to her, she poked his back with the tip of her finger, digging deep enough to receive a light flinch. It seemed like she took him by surprise. She bent her back more as she continued resting her elbows on the railing to glance at Luffy over Zoro's shoulder.
"I'm sure Nami has her reasons," their captain nodded.
"I know Nami's reason."
All of their heads turned to the witch.
Usopp was just walking up the stairs of the forecastle when his eyes sparkled curiously.
"What are you guys talking about?"
"Nami," Zoro said quickly. "Why didn't you say anything until now?" that time, his sharp words were directed to the witch.
The witch shot him a glare, displeased by his reaction. However, she would've acted the same if someone was to hide something so important.
"It would've felt unfair to tell you before talking with her," the witch clarified.
"You talked with her about it?" Usopp suddenly intervened, surprised by the news.
The witch gripped at the tarot deck in between her hands tighter and clicked her tongue, trying to find the best words to explain.
"I did. Somehow," uncertainty latched onto her voice.
None of them rushed her anymore so she took her time.
"Listen, this isn't as easy as it seems to be. Yes, Sanji, she didn't willingly get into Arlong's crew."
A snarky remark sat on the cook's tongue and he wanted to throw it Zoro's way.
"But," the witch continued in order to stop an eventual argument, "she's fully aware of her actions. She was forced by the circumstances to do what she's doing, but it doesn't mean she likes acting like Arlong's crewmate. Nami certainly hates him from the bottom of her heart. He did something. Something that forced her to act like she's a friend just to protect something or someone. Or both. She's not only protecting herself, she's protecting what's most dear to her heart."
It wasn't the witch that spoke, but the gut feeling she had. Her thoughts didn't seem so clear in months, since her last successful tarot reading. Now, as the significance of each card sank into her brain, she knew what everything meant.
It wasn't her that spoke, but her intuition.
"She's keeping us away because she's scared we'd get hurt, not only because we would get in her way. Nami cares about us and that's exactly why she's pushing us away."
"Who does that?" Zoro wondered out loud.
Maybe he should've kept that to himself.
"You do that," the witch's head snapped towards him. "I do it. And Nami does. She said she tricked us — which was true. At the same time, she's tricking Arlong. He isn't her crewmate, he's an asshole that stole something from her—"
The witch got so carried away she didn't even realize what she just said. She suddenly furrowed her eyebrows into the void and received confused looks from her friends.
"He stole something. Her freedom."
Those words were said as she actively figured the details out, staring into the void.
"Witch?" Usopp nudged her.
"Yes?" she turned towards him.
"Did she tell you all these things?"
There was a light chuckle that left her lips at that question.
"The cards did. Her reactions just gave her away and answered my doubts."
The witch knew what games she was playing. She's been doing these things for years and not only — she trusted her gut feeling above everything else.
She received an especially confused look from the cook, who had no clue why she was called a witch. He probably supposed it was because she was beautiful or maybe secretive.
He should've taken that nickname literally.
"What do we do then?" Zoro turned his head towards their captain.
Luffy listened intently to everything the witch had to say and he made up his mind since long ago:
"I want to hear her decision for myself."
"That's for the best," the witch nodded.
There was more she would've liked to say, but speaking from the gut was both easier than usual and harder when tired. Considering the last time she got some proper sleep was before they got attacked by the Marines, she could say it's been long enough for her mind to get clouded.
Stuck in her thoughts as she was, the grip on her tarot deck loosened up and the object fell from her hold on the wooden floor. The witch's exhausted brain registered that too many seconds later.
A deep frown appeared between her eyebrows, blinking in an attempt to clear her vision while she bent down to take the deck in her hand.
Obviously, she failed.
When her back was straight again, her vision went pitch black and a heavy throbbing settled in her temples. The ship swayed worse than a second ago. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed.
The witch has been in that situation before. She stood still, because attempting to walk would've ended in a passionate kiss with the floor.
When the sensations dissipated little by little, tiredness was everything left behind.
"I'm gonna get some rest," she mumbled, the words a little slurred.
With her eyes now opened wide enough to see where she's heading, she walked towards the stairs and cussed them out one by one.
Falling like an idiot wasn't on her to-do list for that day.
By some miracle, she managed to walk all the way into the galley. The room she shared with Nami was hers, but it was too far away. Her feet barely carried her to the dark red sofa she let her body fall on like a sack.
She didn't care about the clothes she hasn't changed from, too caught up with everything that has happened. There was enough time for a shower later, when exhaustion wasn't seeping into her bones. The only thing she had the decency to do was to take her boots off.
She stretched her legs and put an arm under her head, resting on her side to face the room. Not the most comfortable place to sleep in, but after all of that tumult, nothing mattered anymore.
The sweet sound of jingling disturbed her again.
Oh, god dammit.
She was one breath away from cussing Zoro's ass and his earrings — despite being in ecstasy that he woke up. The witch, as if expecting his next move, bent her knees to make space for him. The swordsman plopped himself down with a grunt at the other side of the sofa and her bare feet touched his thigh.
She didn't dare mutter a word about his presence. Zoro could stay. Gosh, as she was thinkingln about it, she could only believe it was a blessing he wasn't only awake, but also throwing remarks her way.
It was so much better than telling stories of her past to an unconscious Mosshead.
Right.
The edges of her mouth curled in a smile.
"What?"
"Mosshead," she chuckled, eyes still closed.
Zoro let out a scoff and she could imagine him rolling his eyes to the ceiling.
"Didn't you say you were going to rest?"
His voice was unusually low and even soft, pulling her towards the dreamland.
"I'd say this place is perfect," she mumbled.
The witch didn't bother to explain she was tired out of her mind or that her feet would most likely betray her if she dared to get up.
The silence was filled with their breathing and the sounds of the water splashing against their ship, the cracks of the wood. She remembered the times when she traveled with her father's crew and she would many times fall asleep curled next to a barrel while the vice-captain was still singing sea shanties in the middle of the night.
"Zoro," the witch whispered.
She was too weary to care about what left her mouth. It acted like alcohol — it clouded her mind and she felt shameless.
"What if I wouldn't have stepped on this ship?"
That question plagued her mind and she finally said it out loud.
"So the last ship was more to your taste?" he snickered. "It almost sank in the sea."
"You're such an ass," and while that phrase might've sounded harsh in the past, at that moment it was filled with fondness.
"Been told that before."
I really missed that voice.
"For someone with a big ass bruise on your neck, you sound more like a coward than I thought."
Maybe she deserved that serious tone thrown her way. Was he right? Only halfway through.
"No," she was stubborn enough to fight the sleep for a few more minutes. "What if I would've been happier? Y'know, less worries, no people to haunt my ass. No anxiety."
No crying over you for being almost dead.
The continuation sat on the tip of her tongue and got swallowed back with a gulp. Was there really a need for an admission? Puffy eyelids and dark circles under her eyes, chapped lips and bandages around her forearm soaked in blood. Those details were enough proof.
"Do you hate us that much?" his low voice sent shivers down her spine.
"It's not about that. Just…" she gulped and curled her fingers around the tarot deck she was still holding onto. "I want some peace."
"I say you should get some sleep."
•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•
Standing on the deck felt right, even if the witch doesn't remember why she was there. She can't point out the weather clearly, it feels blurry. Seconds ago she was in the kitchen talking with Sanji about some unusual topic she couldn't remember.
Then why was she suddenly on the deck, face to face with a kneeling Zoro who had two swords piercing through his upper body from behind? She didn't only know it was him, she felt like it was him, as if the pieces connecting in her head were just right. However, it horrified her. Everything around him was blurry except for him.
Him, whose essence of life was pouring down his body, creating a puddle under him, sinking into the cracks of the wooden floor. The crimson liquid melted into his white t-shirt. Now that she was looking better at it, she noticed the sharp point of a sword penetrating all the way through his stomach to the front side of his body.
He was looking up at her, despite the way his chin was tilted down. Those sharp brown eyes were boring holes through her. His beautiful irises painted with the warm nuances of chocolate and coffee were scary, like no other time.
Was Luffy next to her? It feels like it was him, even if she can only distinguish a silhouette in the corner of her right eye.
Why was Zoro looking at her like that? She couldn't move, as if her feet were stuck in place. She didn't know if she was breathing or if she was alive anymore. She didn't know why she was on the deck, why those swords took his life away. It barely made any sense that he had enough energy to stare at her.
He didn't falter once. He didn't beg for help, her name didn't come out of his mouth, no groans, no nothing.
She couldn't move. As she stood in the same place, her anxiety was rising up, up, up, until she felt like panicking despite the lack of reaction. She felt like exploding, but she couldn't express those horrific feelings.
She couldn't help him. Her arms were stuck by the sides of her body, as if someone had put a spell on her. She had the will to move her legs, to get closer to him, she wanted to, but she remained glued in that spot. She couldn't feel her body.
She had to do something, but she was trapped inside an unmoving object that was her own body. Why?
Everything snapped.
The smallest hope towards an escape woke her up. Her eyes opened instantly and she raised up in a sitting position, eyes frantically searching for more clues, for answers about the horrifying images she just saw before her eyelids.
Her heart was beating so fast it made her wish she didn't have it at all, a deafening ba-dump repeating in her eardrums over and over again.
Unfortunately, she was face to face with the swordsman she dreamt of. Instantly, as if she was shot, she looked at his upper abdomen. For no more than two seconds, she saw a big black patch on his bandages.
She inhaled deeply and her heart was beating faster, suddenly unable to release that breath of air. Her eyes widened and her hands shook, chest tight.
"Hey," she heard more of a background sound.
She blinked countless times, until her tired brain figured out that it was just her imagination. It was so dark in the room and her nightmare was a shock, the reason why at some point the patch started blurring out, inviting her to blink until it turned to be one small spot. It has been there since he woke up from his slumber.
When the realization sank in, she let go of that breath and let out a pitiful whimper. Deep inside, it felt like relief, her eyes now squeezed shut.
This time, he clearly called her name after his fingers securely gripped at her shaking shoulders, avoiding her wound. Her hands were trembling, her entire being disturbed.
Zoro said her name, not the nickname she got so used to hearing on that ship. Not the usual Witch, a word that sounded so endearing coming from her crewmates; no, it was her name and it was spoken so softly she could've confused him for someone else.
She had a poor attempt at recalling those images in order to figure out the reality, but it backfired. The bloody scene stuck before her closed eyes pushed her to open them up again.
Thankfully, his dark gaze was warm, filled with unspoken worry. For a brief moment she wondered how he woke up, since he slept like the dead sometimes.
"I'm surprised I managed to wake you up," her voice trembled.
He didn't joke back at her. Instead, his thumbs started rubbing slow circles into her shoulders in order to bring her back to earth. Or, better said, back to the ship that was peacefully sailing on the sea during the night.
"I think you should correct your breathing," he pointed out.
Once she changed from autopilot breathing, it felt like her throat was tight.
"Breathe in."
Blindly, she trusted his instructions. That mere breath shook her again, feeling shivers when she allowed the oxygen to sink into her lungs, the same way his voice sank into her being, in the cracks of her soul.
It took a few minutes until that normal bodily process didn't seem like an impossible task. Her muscles were tense until Zoro squeezed her shoulders again.
She could distinguish more of his face than just the warmth she noticed not long ago. His expression seemed pained with worry and not from a wound that could kill him, even if there still were bandages wrapped around his torso. Maybe it was also fear that made him look so different from usual; or was it confusion?
"I'm sorry for destroying your sleep."
It was half a lie. She wasn't sorry about the touch keeping her afloat, about how she managed to breathe again only because of his presence, because he was clearly awake and alive. At the same time, she knew he needed to rest so his wound could heal properly.
"Be serious," he huffed in a lower voice, clearly displeased.
"I am. You should sleep."
"Just like you should, but I doubt you will."
"I'd argue about that."
She was still tired, even if her shock from earlier struck her like thunder. Her eyes could close at any moment, which she feared, because another nightmare didn't sound good even for how stress resistant she became.
Since he heard her soft whimper when she was still sleeping, he had no clue what to do, how to act. One thing was clear: it was better to wake her up, despite the possibility she might get defensive and attack.
Alright, now what the heck do I do? He's had nightmares before, he's seen horrendous things during his sleep countless times, but he didn't have any idea about what to do for her. Was he even supposed to do something? She didn't like being pampered — maybe he should act like nothing happened. However, the fear coloring her face earlier shocked him as well. The witch has always been collected, she had such a firm grip on her reactions it was annoying sometimes.
The swordsman shook his head, but didn't let go of her. Instead, he leaned against the cushions on his side, while his hands fell down to her forearms to get a comfortable position of his limbs and upper body. The wound on his chest sent daggers through him at each movement. Barely a day of consciously dealing with it and he's already got annoyed.
The witch looked down at where their bodies were connected. His long calloused fingers were securely wrapped around her arms, close to her wrists. When did her legs end up in his lap she didn't know. Her bare knee tingled with warmth — why?
"You had a weird reaction after you woke up," his whisper stirred something in her heart.
"What do you mean? I had plenty of reactions."
Are you playing the idiot with me? Zoro thought.
"You were more scared of seeing me than of the nightmare."
"Oh."
Why did the Mosshead have to be so observant? It was one of the reasons why she was attracted to him, evidently, but sometimes he exposed her too easily.
She dropped her chin and looked down at her own hands. Admitting that she feared his role as the main character of a tragedy for the second time felt embarrassing for some unknown reason. She's been in enough humiliating situations and he never ridiculed her.
Zoro was utterly stuck. Was he supposed to move away? His body felt too heavy to get off the sofa and go to his room. It wouldn't be alright leaving her alone with her crippling anxiety either, considering she was prone to overthinking.
He wanted to do something, but what?
He let out a long sigh and rested his head against the cushions, his fingers still curled around her wrists. Her pulse was fast, but as seconds passed by, it slowed down under the weight of his thumbs.
The witch became hyper aware of the situation, but it felt too good to move away. Her tired brain entirely registered his presence and her eyes closed. She breathed in the chill air of the night and, while focusing so intently on Zoro's presence, she fell into a deeper state of mind, half asleep.
He was disturbed from his own journey into the dream realm when he felt a light weight on his shoulder. Once his eyes opened, he saw the cause: she leaned in closer to him, clearly unaware.
He smelled like the sea and the familiar scent of soap clung to the unbuttoned blue t-shirt he wore. With her forehead resting against his neck, the witch could vaguely point out his pulse. The safety of his embrace lulled her into a dreamless sleep while she focused on his slow breathing and the secure grip he had on her.
Zoro filled her senses so fiercely it was impossible not to melt into him, inhaling and exhaling in sync with him.
The swordsman had different sentiments about this and they were all confusing.
What am I doing? he scolded himself.
He moved his head and angled his face so he could look at the right side of her sleeping face. With long eyelashes resting over her soft cheeks, she looked like she didn't have a worry in the world, even if he knew better. Her shoulders would rise and fall rhythmically in such a slow pace, making him wonder what exactly exhausted her so much.
Then, his gaze fell on the purple marks on her neck and his jaw clenched. If he would've been awake when Arlong appeared at Baratie, maybe none of them would be like that. Maybe he would've had enough stubbornness to get answers from Nami and maybe Luffy wouldn't have been so close to drowning. Maybe those marks on her neck wouldn't have been there in the first place.
What the fuck am I doing?
Giving up, he rested his head back against the cushions with a scowl. He didn't understand himself and it was even harder to understand the woman sleeping so peacefully, too close to him.
Zoro let out a low displeased sound and closed his eyes, deciding to rest for a while. He didn't dare move away or wake her up either.
First and foremost he was displeased about the fact that he liked the proximity.
I wonder what that fishman's face looks like. It'll surely be a pleasure to slice him in half.
Tag list: @emelia07 @dimplewonie @tfamidoingwithmylife @murnsondock @the-skys-musical-echo @conspiracy-crows @hallow33nz @ramae17 @gaslysainz @bunntsu @katt58 @katiemrty @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @freyademartel @boofy1998 @ponyboys-sunsets @melsunshine @loveyluv7 @waddlingwanderer @jesssssmaybankk @nadlx33333 @yoong1c0re @untoldshortsofthefandoms @mizzy-pop @zoromyluv
#in search of freedom#naomiwrites#zoro x reader#zoro x you#zoro x y/n#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x you#roronoa zoro x y/n#opla zoro x reader#opla zoro x you#one piece x reader#one piece x you#one piece live action x reader#one piece live action x you#one piece live action#opla#opla zoro#opla fanfiction#one piece fanfiction#zoro fanfiction#one piece zoro#op zoro#zoro#zoro roronoa#pirate hunter zoro#x reader
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Male Goblin/Female Reader
SFW
Wordcount: 3,127
Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist
Ayo accidentally takes a potion meant for somebody else. It has unintended consequences, but it's not entirely terrible.
The summer morning greeted you with a gentle breeze across your face through the open window, the sun casting a warm, golden glow over the shelves and jars of your apothecary. Today held the silent promise of goodness, the kind that made your heart light as you prepared to open shop.
With care, you began to sort through the commissioned potions for your clients; they ranged from simple herbal remedies to much more complex spells. The rhythm of sorting through the various jars was soothing, it was always your favourite part of the day.
Among them lay a potion due the next day, its contents shimmering with a rosy pink that caught the light just so. It was meant to grant poise and charm, just a little boost for a man who needed some confidence on a first date.
As the morning bustled on, the door creaked open to admit a new customer. A small goblin stepped over the threshold, a little hesitantly, as if unsure of the welcome he would receive.
You took in his appearance: mossy green skin dappled with little freckles, golden piercings glinting in his ears. He had his lip and eyebrow pierced too, decorated with little amethyst gems.
Despite his obvious shyness as he shuffled in, there was something about him that piqued your interest—an allure that you hadn't felt for a goblin before.
"I need some herbal remedies for a cough.” His voice was soft, almost tentative. "For my sister," he added quickly, as if eager to explain his presence.
As you nodded and turned to fetch the requested herbs; you could sense his eyes following you, a silent observer still. There was a gentleness to his demeanour that went against the ruggedness of his leather armour, which spoke of a life of survival… and solitude.
"You don't look like you come into town often," you ventured, hoping to coax him into conversation as you carefully selected the best herbs for a cough.
His chuckle was a quiet, nervous thing, but his grey eyes softened as you turned around to offer a smile. "Not much, no. The forest is more my home," he admitted, his gaze drifting towards the various bottles and ingredients lining your shop.
"Couldn't you find these herbs in the forest?" you inquired. "Most of what's here comes from the forest anyway."
He shifted his weight, a small smile creeping onto his face. "I'd rather trust someone who knows what they're doing," he confessed with a self-deprecating shrug. "I might end up picking the wrong thing. Poisoning myself wouldn't be too smart."
His admission brought a soft laugh from you as you placed a bottle of cough syrup alongside the bundled herbs on the counter. "Well, you're safe with these," you reassured him, meeting his gaze with a friendly smile. "Is there anything else you need?"
You noticed then, a subtle tenseness in his posture, the way his fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm on his armoured thigh. It seemed like eagerness, perhaps an anxiety to return to the familiarity of the forest. "No, that's all, thank you," he said, his voice carrying a hint of relief.
As he handed over the payment, his hand lingered for just a fraction longer than necessary, leaving behind a tip that was more generous than usual. With a quick, nervous nod, he gathered his purchase and hurried out, the door closing behind him with a gentle jingle.
There was something intriguing about him, a pull that was unfamiliar as he vanished past the window. Your heart sank a little as you realized that in the rush of the transaction, you'd never asked his name.
Turning back to the potions on the counter, you hoped for another chance to see the goblin again, to learn more about him. That's when you noticed the gap where the emboldening potion had been. Your eyes widened in realization. Could he have taken it by mistake? Or… he had left so suddenly. Had he stolen it?
Without a second thought, you dashed to the door, flinging it open with the hope of catching him. You scanned the street for any sign of the goblin's mossy green skin or the glint of his piercings. He was nowhere to be seen. For someone of such small stature, he was surprisingly quick, or perhaps the forest had taught him how to disappear so quickly.
Frustration bubbled inside you. That potion was potent — strong enough for the troll it was intended for, not a goblin half his size. You bit your lip, mind racing… and concluded that all you could do was make another for your customer. You hoped the strange goblin would be all right.
You resigned yourself to getting back to work, letting the steady flow of tasks and customers occupy your mind, pushing aside the nagging worry about the misplaced potion. Potions were brewed, advice was given, and remedies were handed out with the same care and attention you always provided.
As the day wound down and the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, you began the familiar routine of closing up. Just as you were about to turn the sign to closed, the door creaked open, the bell chiming one final time.
"We're closed, I'm afraid," you called out, not looking up as you continued to tidy the counter.
"Oh, I’ll just be a second," came a familiar voice, but there was a lilt to it now, a smoothness that hadn't been there before.
You paused and turned, your gaze landing on the goblin who'd entered your apothecary just hours earlier.
Gone was the shy man you’d seen this morning. In place of his hunter's leathers, he wore a simple black tunic that did nothing to hide the confidence in his stance. His smile was easy, his greyish-black eyes held a glint of mischief, and he moved with a fluid grace that seemed enhanced, almost exaggerated.
"I don't think I properly introduced myself earlier," he continued with a smile. “I’m Ayo. You are..?” His voice was a little too loud in the quiet shop, his smile a little too wide.
It clicked then—the emboldening potion. He must have taken it.
"Ayo," you repeated, allowing his name to settle in your mind. "You took the potion, didn't you? The one I had on the counter?"
His grin widened, not an ounce of remorse in his expression. "Did I? Well, that explains a lot. I thought it was a freebie. I quite like the effect."
You couldn't help but muffle a laugh despite the seriousness of the situation. “Not much to do except wait it out, I’m afraid,” you said, pursing your lips to keep from smiling. “It shouldn’t last more than six or so hours… though it was made strong enough for a troll.”
Ayo's confident facade faltered just a bit, the suggestion that this new version of himself was only temporary dimming the brightness of his smile. "Wait it out — but I'm starting to enjoy this new me.”
"Why don't you wait it out here?" you suggested, brows furrowed. "Just so I can keep an eye on any unintended side effects."
Ayo arched a playful eyebrow, considering the offer. "I don't know," he teased.. "I wouldn't want to impose—unless, of course, it means spending time with someone as enchanting as yourself."
There it was, the charm dialed up to its fullest, making it hard not to be swept away by the easy compliments. Yet, you caught yourself, a gentle reminder in the back of your mind that Ayo wasn't entirely himself. His bravado was just a side effect, not a true reflection of his feelings.
Finally, with a slight push from your rational side, Ayo nodded, conceding. "Alright, perhaps staying here isn't such a bad idea. I wouldn't mind getting to know you better, under the circumstances."
You couldn't help but smile, even as you reined in the flutter in your chest. "I'll make some tea, then," you said, moving towards the small side room that served as a makeshift lounge for quiet moments like these.
Once you had brewed a calming chamomile tea, you handed Ayo a steaming mug and directed him to the sofa, plush and inviting in the cosy room. He settled in, the potion's effects making him appear more at ease, more at home than he probably should have felt.
You curled up in the armchair opposite him, tucking your legs beneath you. The room was comfortable, the air filled with the soothing scent of the tea, creating a peaceful bubble away from the world outside.
"So, tell me," he said, gesturing to the room as a whole. He had chosen to sit next to a collection of potted plants, so large that their leaves spilled halfway onto the arm of the sofa. “What's it like being an apothecary? Must be a fascinating job, mixing potions and all that."
You grinned. "It is," you replied. "There's a certain magic in helping others, even if it's just with a simple remedy for the common cold."
Ayo listened, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that left your skin hot. "I bet," he said with a grin. He had pointed teeth, you noticed, with delicate carvings.
The intensity of his stare made you shiver. To distract yourself, you downed your tea and stood to press a cool hand to Ayo’s forehead. “No fever,” you concluded. “That’s good. Do you feel unwell at all? Too warm or too cold?”
Ayo shrugged. “No. Actually, I feel better than I have in a long time.”
You hummed in agreement, leaning over to grab a piece of aloe vera from one of the pots beside Ayo. Except in your closeness, Ayo’s warm breath against your skin felt amplified. He leaned up, dark eyes glinting, close enough to kiss.
Your heart raced, a part of you tempted to close the distance; but with a gentle firmness, you turned your face away, evading his advance. "Ayo, I can't," you said softly, yet firmly. "I won't take advantage of you."
“It’s hardly taking advantage, love.”
The pet name made your knees weak, and you bit your lip to keep from saying something stupid. Instead, you said, “if you still feel this way after the potion has worn off, then maybe I’ll consider… a date. If you’d like. Only once the potion has worn off.”
The look of disappointment that briefly crossed Ayo's face was unmistakable, yet he recovered quickly, his confidence unshaken. "Fair enough," he conceded with a rakish grin. "When this wears off, I'll take you up on that date."
“Good,” you replied with a grin. Settling back into the armchair, you drew a blanket over your knees, the soft fabric a small comfort against the evening's chill.
Ayo's gaze lingered, but he made no move to breach the distance you'd established. You were quietly grateful that at least the potion hadn’t completely ruined his inhibitions.
"At least the potion hasn't completely obliterated your sense of propriety," you quipped, sinking deeper into the blanket.
Ayo's laughter echoed in the little room. "Yeah, well, you say that… but it’s taking my entire self control to stay over here," he responded with a shrug and a smirk.
Flushing, you scrambled to grab the empty teacups. Mostly just to give yourself something to do other than flounder, you asked, “more tea?” Before he could answer, you were on your feet and scrambling to the little kitchen area next door.
As the kettle boiled on the stovetop, you poked your head back into the sitting area. Glancing at Ayo, who seemed content on the sofa, an idea took root.
"Would you mind staying the night?" you asked, despite the little voice in your mind arguing otherwise. "It's late, and I'd like to keep an eye on you, just in case the potion decides to throw us any more curveballs."
Ayo's agreement was immediate, his nod accompanied by a grateful smile. "Sure, I can stay. Tomorrow, we could go on a breakfast date.”
You hummed. “If you’re back to normal by morning.”
Deciding that the flat above the shop would offer a more comfortable place for Ayo to spend the night, you led the way upstairs, gathering blankets and a pillow to make up a makeshift bed on the sofa.
As you finished arranging everything and turned to bid Ayo goodnight, he caught you by surprise by standing on his toes and meeting your lips in a kiss. The initial shock had you stiffening, ready to pull away, but Ayo's whispered confession stopped you.
“I couldn’t resist,” he murmured against your lips. His breath tasted of chamomile tea and something you couldn’t place. Something sweet.
You knew you should have resisted, pushed him away, but you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you with such big, hopeful eyes, that confident smile still playing on his lips. And oh, those teeth!
Screw it, you thought. It was time that you threw caution to the wind. Without giving yourself time to doubt, you bent down and kissed him again.
Ayo's lips were soft against yours, the kiss carrying a warmth that seemed to spread through you, chasing away the remnants of the day's fatigue.
When you finally parted, there was a softness in Ayo's gaze, a look that made your legs weak. With a smile that held more affection than you intended, you whispered, "Goodnight, Ayo."
He blew you a kiss as you retreated from the living room. You waved back, hoping that tomorrow, Ayo wouldn’t regret this.
***
The morning light had just begun to creep through the curtains when you decided to check on Ayo, curious to see how he was faring after a night under the influence of the emboldening potion. Quietly, you made your way to the living space, expecting to find him still asleep on the sofa.
Instead, Ayo was up, in the midst of lacing his boots, a look of concentration on his face. The moment he noticed you, his movements halted, and a flush of embarrassment coloured his green cheeks. It was clear he hadn't intended to be found awake, let alone preparing to leave.
"I, uh, was trying to sneak out," Ayo confessed, his voice laced with a mix of sheepishness and something deeper, more sincere. "Didn't want to wake you."
The admission stung.
Your expression must have betrayed your feelings, because Ayo quickly added, "Not because I regret anything from last night! It's just... that wasn't me. I mean, it was me, but not me. I'm not usually that bold, and I didn't want you to see me this morning and be... disappointed."
"You don't have to sneak away," you said gently, stepping closer, the hurt beginning to ebb away as understanding took its place. "I'd rather know the real you, anyway. Boldness isn't the only thing that's attractive, you know."
Ayo's gaze lifted to meet yours, a hint of surprise flickering in his dark eyes. You noticed him fidgeting slightly, a stark contrast to the smooth assurance he'd displayed yesterday.
Sensing his unease, you took a seat beside him on the sofa, aiming to bridge the distance not just physically, but emotionally as well. "About that breakfast date," you began, watching his reaction closely. "Is that still on the table?"
The effort Ayo made to temper his enthusiasm was almost endearing; the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, betraying his excitement despite his best attempts to remain composed. "If you're still interested, yeah," he said quickly. Too quickly. It was sweet.
In response, you reached out and took his hand. Leaning forward, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. His skin was rough and warm.
"I'd like to go," you said. "For what it's worth, I'm interested in getting to know the real Ayo, not just the version the potion showed me."
Ayo's enthusiasm was infectious, his smile making your stomach flip. "I can't wait," he blurted out, then quickly added, "Sorry, I don't mean to seem overeager."
You couldn't help but laugh. Not at him, of course, never at him. "It's okay," you assured him. "I'm excited too"
The idea of a breakfast date now hung in the air, a tempting prospect. Yet, Ayo, ever mindful of his responsibilities, hesitated. "I should probably check in on my sister first, let her know where I've been... and explain my unexpected absence."
With a nod of understanding, you stood up, closing the distance between you with a few short steps. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. He was so much shorter than you, but you didn’t mind one bit.
"Meet me back here in an hour, then?" you suggested.
Ayo's smile was all the answer you needed. "I'll be here," he promised.
“Good.”
WIth one final kiss, you let him go. Last night had been… interesting; but you had the feeling that today would be even better.
#monster fucker#monster boyfriend#monster romance#monster x reader#tag: goblin#tag: mxf#tag: male monster#tag: female reader#tag: sfw
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christmas on the road // george russell
summary: all george wants for christmas is to get home to his wife and his son. unbeknownst to him, his wife has a little surprise in the from of two pink lines that's about to make his christmas that much sweeter.
pairing: george russell x wife! reader
warnings: pregnancy. other than that, just fluffy dad! george. his son's name is hudson charles russell :)
king's lynn, norfolk. december 24th, 11:55 PM.
the soft lights of the christmas tree were the only lights on in the room as y/n russell sat curled up on the large couch, watching the clock tick as she ran her fingers through her son's fine hair.
hudson russell had insisted on waiting up for his father, but traffic out of brackley had been terrible, and though george had left four hours earlier, he still wasn't back yet. it was a hell of a commute to make, but george was lucky enough that most of his work could be done remotely when required. hudson had fallen asleep two hours ago, his little head resting in his mother's lap.
he was looking more and more like george every single day.
she still remembered the day that she found out she was pregnant. she had been so scared to tell george. they were so young, and he was still has something to prove. his second season at williams, his first with a new teammate. the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and she hadn't wanted to add to that.
it had been a tough race. george had ignored everybody when he got back to the garage, including his girlfriend. she'd tried so hard to stop herself from crying as she watched his driver's room door click shut.
fuck the pregnancy hormones.
"georgie?" she'd asked softly, gently knocking on the door. "can i come in, love? i need to talk to you, and i want to know that you're okay."
the door creaked open slowly. george was sitting on the massage table with his head in his hands. "i can't do this any more, y/n. i can't hang around at the back of the pack, driving in circles all on my own. i'd rather admit defeat."
it hurt her to see him like this. she took a seat next to him, looking at the windowless white room that he'd somehow managed to make feel like his own for the weekend. "george, you can't give up just yet. it's been a rough few years, i know. but we need you."
"we?" there was confusion in his voice as he turned to look at her. "honey, what do you mean 'we'?"
"george, i'm pregnant."
time seemed to stop as george just stared at her. "you're what? but how? we were so safe."
"sometimes, things just happen, george. i don't know. but i do know that this baby wouldn't want their father to give up right now."
george turned around, taking her hands in his. she was starting to cry, and he hated that he knew he was about to make things worse, even though he didn't want to. "baby, i love you so much, and i need you to know that, because i need some time to myself to process this, and i don't want to say anything i might regret. but i need you to know, you and this baby, to know that you're so loved."
nine months later, hudson charles russell was born, and george had come straight from the racetrack to the hospital, leaving nyck de vries to run the qualifying session, sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair, race suit around his waist as he held his son to his bare chest, trying his best not to cry.
they'd gotten married a year later. george had walked down the aisle holding hudson's hand, and charles had hudson on his shoulders for the entire ceremony.
and now, a small box covered in sparkling wrapping paper was waiting under the christmas tree. something that would change her life again, in the best way.
the door opened behind her, and she found herself waiting for george's traditional 'honey, i'm home' shout before she remembered that her husband probably assumed that both she and hudson were asleep.
"in the living room, hon!" she tried to shout it as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake the sleeping toddler in her lap.
george russell couldn't stop the smile on his face when he saw his wife on the couch, wrapped in her fluffy bathrobe, hair thrown up in a messy bun. and he smiled even wider when he saw his little boy curled up at his mother's side.
"hi, honey." george smiled, leaning in to kiss y/n. "why is hudson still up?"
"he just wanted to see his dad." she smiled, brushing a small strand of dirty blonde hair out of hudson's face. "do you want to tuck him in?"
y/n moved to stand up, hudson in her arms, when george stopped her. "i've got him, darling." george was quiet and careful, doing his best not to wake the small child in his arms. hudson stirred, wrapping his small, pudgy fingers around george's thumb.
it was still little moments like that that made the mercedes driver's heart swell. it was a feeling even better than his win in brazil the year prior. (lando had teased him relentlessly for mentioning hudson and y/n in his podium speech.)
y/n followed her husband upstairs, her heart filled with love as she watched george kiss his son on the top of the head. before she went up the first step, she ran back to the christmas tree.
the clock read 12:06.
it was officially christmas morning.
the grabbed the small box, slipping it into the pocket of her bathrobe before she turned back towards the staircase, tiptoeing over to hudson's room.
the little boy was lying in the middle of his racecar bed, a custom-built replica of his father's old williams f1 car. the soft blue sheets were pulled up over the two-year old's small body. george was laying next to hudson, comfortingly resting his hand on the toddler's back.
y/n watched from the doorway, wondering how she had gotten so lucky to have found george william russell. and how the two of them were about to get even luckier.
at the sight of his wife standing in the doorway, george sat up, pressing a quick kiss to his son's temple before he slowly got up from the bed, crossing the room and closing the door behind him.
"merry christmas, love." he smiled, pulling his wife in for a deep kiss on the lips.
"since it's already christmas morning, i have something for you." y/n beamed, passing her husband the box. "go on, open it, you muppet."
george laughed, still standing in front of hudson's bedroom door as he pulled at the wrapping paper. it was an old box from swarovski, and the driver gave it a confused glance before y/n whispered to open it.
he carefully opened the end of the box, his face scrunched up in even more confusion before the white plastic stick fell out of the open end, into his palm. he turned it over, his eyes opening widely as he saw the two pink lines.
"you're pregnant? we're having another one?" his shock gavev way to excitement, his grin splitting his features as he beamed at his wife. "i'm going to be a father again!"
"that's a much better reaction than last time." y/n laughed, wrapping her arms around the love of her life before she kissed him. "we're having another baby, darling."
"i love you so much." george whispered, on the verge of tears as he kissed the top of his wife's head. "merry christmas, y/n."
"i love you more, george william russell. merry christmas."
________
Tags: @magnummagnussen @daydreamingleclerc @flannel-cures @libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @diorleclerc
#george russell x reader#george russel imagine#george russell#formula one x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#mercedes amg petronas#mercedes f1#the christmas collection 2022#mini fic
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Omg ok ok hello! I had this huge rant in my head about sy and sn so pls feel free to ignore it, but I love your writing so much and it gives me some STRONG FEELINGS.
First of all it surprised me that I like the way you write y/n cuz she doesn't become a "bitch" after the whole deal with Gojo and have some elaborate revenge plan, but she is also not a goody two shoes (even if she stayed with Gojo earlier but she had a lot of external pressure to stay in the marriage). Not that those tropes are necessarily bad but it's just more realistic this way. She's just a person who has been deeply hurt and is trying to do right by others. Even if she has made big mistakes, she still wants to make up for them cuz she's not completely in the right either. Also getting bashed by everyone for trying to make amends/ not following their advice regarding you own life; while very triggering for me (lol) is also just such a natural reaction. Not right, just natural. When things get out of people's hands and they want to blame someone for it, they often go for the one who is actually trying and won't retaliate if for nothing than to just keep the peace. Also wanting people to understand your side of the situation yet feeling undeserving of it at the same time because of your mistakes is UGHHH I feel like you do that so well!
It's amazing but genuinely heartbreaking to see how far Satoru has come as a person too. Also when he thinks about how he wants to be a better person for Akemi IT MADE ME WANT TO PUT MY HEAD THROUGH A WALL... cuz WHY COULDN'T HE BE LIKE THAT FOR US!!! At the same time we have moved on without him, so if we are allowed that luxury then why isn't he? It's just so ANGSTY AND SO SO GOOD! Because we love Satoru we always will but he had a chance and he fricked it over terribly! So it would be idiotic to go back to him but at the same time the heart yearns for him. This is a side tangent but whenever any character says "this is not like you", "you have changed, this isn't how you'd act" makes me so MAD lol (maybe bc I am triggered?) But these guys WATCHED MY GIRL GO THROUGH SOME HORRIFIC SHIT AND STILL EXPECT HER TO NOT BE PERMANANTLY AND IRREVERSIBLY CHANGED???!! ;-;; IDK what they want from her oof >.<
I do think Akemi is a shitty friend but I can't bring myself to hate her completely. Seeing them together is so ANGER INDUCING AAAAA (and her wanting a family with him is fine BUT THIS EARLY?!JUST AFTER ADMITTING YOU FEEL "SORRY" FOR BETRAYING US?! IT MAKES ME WANNA HURL HER TRHOUGH CONCRETE) but at the same time Satoru and Akemi both deserve someone who can love them. It feels hypocritical to be angry when we ourselves told him to move on and find someone who can love him the way he deserves. It's just very very shitty it had to be them.
Sera is also such an interesting character. She has a lot of traits that I admire a lot. Her resourcefulness and complete and utter pride/confidence and being unashamed to ask for things/ stand up for herself (even when she is wrong) is something I wish I had sometimes. Still wanna stick her head through a toilet tho and yet when a person who slept with a married man can see the bloody violation of girls' code that is sleeping with your bff's EX HUSBAND oh BOY you should KNOW SOMETHING IS WRONG.
I have no strong feelings for Toji (cuz I don't like him much anyways but that's just personal bias XD )but I do think his anger and frustration is well founded especially since he runs over whenever the reader needs him. He's so supportive and invested and honestly he deserves someone who can give that back to him. It's kinda sad but then again I don't like him much to begin with lol.
OH AND THE ENDING OF THE LAST CHAPTER IS SOOOOO PAINFUL. To always be the second choice even for YOUR SON OHHH MAN I'D RATHER YOU PUT A KNIFE THROUGH MY HEART ;-;
All in all I hate how much I love this series and love to hate these characters and take out my repressed anger on them cuz I can't do that irl. This series is my Roman Empire lol. It's so painful, yet so beautiful and it makes you FEEL so many things and yet hold out hope for things to become better. I love this, love you and your writing- ok mwah bye bye (and thank you if you read this rant put together by my post nap, barely coherent brain) I have so much more that I want to say. I can write essays about this series and how it uses so many technically "cliche" tropes but it is anything but cliche . Truly some of the best angst I have read like ever!
oh wow !! i don’t even know what to say, this feels like such a comprehensive review of the sy series sdksks but i think many readers could definitely relate with some of ur points here :D this is such a nice perspective to read, thank you so much for sharing and tysm for reading sn/sy aaaaa i’m happy u enjoy the angst as much as i do <3
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Come Back Home
Jolly x reader
An: Random idea I had that I got stuck on and required way too much help from @a-villain-vying-for-attention then decided to make her a character since she basically came up with the ideas and I wrote it. Lol thanks for being my shadow writer for times when my brain decides it's done thinking.
Words 2200
Jolly Master List
This is chunked into four sections bear with me. I hate transitional writing 😂
"Please don't tell them. They'll just worry, and next thing you know, they'll be at my door, and it's just not the right timing for me to come back. I need to finish my work here, and it's not completely horrible. I think I just miss everyone, and I feel isolated." You admit over Facetime to your best friend, Kayla. "It just wasn't supposed to be like this. “Moving away from you guys was literally one of the worst decisions I've made."
Kayla sighs, "I don't mean to say I told you so, but I did." She laughs, "But the worst part is, Noah told you, Jolly told you, and you still just said bye bitches. Do you know how sad it is not to have you here? I have to deal with them all the time, by MYSELF."
You peel yourself off the couch, dragging your feet through the dining room and to the back door.
You brace yourself for the inevitable assault of the sun, but it still hurts like hell when you open the door and get blasted by its rays. "Fuck." You groan. "It's bright." You squint your eyes and cover them with your hand as you stumble to the camping chair you set up on your porch for such occasions. You hated the daylight. You wished you could be a nocturnal creature, but sadly, you had to pretend to be a responsible adult, even if you sucked at it.
"Wow, look at you, Dracula." She mocks you from the other side of the video call. "You look like you're about to die over there, paler than a ghost and skinnier than a twig. Do I need to come over and feed you some blood? I know it's only been six months, but I will literally come over and mother you to death. I'll bring Noah too, and we'll play house. God knows we need some practice." She flashes a big smile. "You know, for the future and all that jazz."
You laugh, shaking your head, "This is new for you!"
"Yeah, well, now I'm just working on convincing Noah that it's a good idea." She tucks her hair behind her ears. "So I need you to come back because I'm not raising these imaginary kids without their badass aunt."
You roll your eyes at her, "These kids don't even exist yet, so I think we have some time, and besides, I don't know if I'll feel any better moving back. If I have to watch HIM date other people and it not be me…well, I'd rather stay here and suffer in silence."
"Well, he's miserable without you, and why are we not using his name?" She laughs again. "Mopping and shit, constantly.”
You shrug, "I think he's probably fine. I basically threw myself at him and got no reaction. I literally slept in his bed the night before I left." You pause, growing frustrated. "Maybe we're just supposed to be friends; maybe he only sees me as a friend. That's OK. I can't be mad about that, but it always felt like there was something more, you know?"
Kayla groans loudly, "You both suck. If you would've just let me meddle, I could've set you two up."
"I don't want you to set me up! I wanted something natural." You say with all seriousness. "I wanted him to say it."
From behind Kayla, Noah pokes his head into the view, "He's dumb...guys are dumb." He gives you a face that says, duh.
"Well, now I'm here, and I can just say fuck it. I'll find someone here."
Noah's laughter rings through the speaker, "And then break up because all you're gonna do is fucking compare the two and be a whiny baby about how he's not Jolly, so you had to break up? Fuck off, y/n." He chuckles again. "Just come home."
You shake your head, "No. You will have to come to drag my dead body home before I willingly come back."
Noah grabs the phone from Kayla's hand, and you meet with wide eyes. And in a serious tone, Noah says, "Dead or not, at least you'll be home where you belong."
Kayla, Noah, and Jolly were lounging on the couch, munching on some greasy take-out that Noah had ordered from the nearest pizza place. While Jolly was engrossed in the latest episode of Bob's Burgers, Kayla was shooting daggers at him with her eyes.
She couldn't stand the sight of him, acting like nothing was wrong, like he wasn't the reason her best friend wasn't living with them anymore.
Noah noticed his girlfriend's glare and chuckled softly, nudging her elbow with his. "Chill," he whispered in her ear.
"NO!" Kayla shouted, startling both Noah and Jolly. She slammed her food on the coffee table and turned to face Jolly with a furious expression. "I'm sick and tired of pretending like everything is fine. I want my friend back, and if this is what it takes to make you use your brain, then so be it!" She pointed an accusing finger at Jolly, who looked confused and scared. "You need to go get y/n back right now or get on the next flight to Sweden because I can't stand having you around. You make me so mad, both of you, pretending you don't care about each other. She's depressed as shit living there with her fuckin awful family, but she'd rather stay there than come home because of you!" She roughly gets off the couch and storms out of the room, heading for the stairs. "You're such an idiot," she yelled over her shoulder at Jolly.
Noah raised his eyebrows and bit his lip to stop laughing as he saw Jolly's dumbfounded face. Jolly put down his food and looked at Noah with a puzzled expression. "What did I do?" he asked innocently.
Noah shrugs and says, "I think it's more of what you didn't do…"
Kayla comes back down the stairs, holding her food in her hands. She glared at Jolly one more time and flipped him off, then walked out of the room. "Buy the damn ticket!" she screamed from the hallway.
Noah heard the door slam and shook his head. "Well," he said, standing up and grabbing his food. "There's your answer. Bring y/n home."
"How am I supposed to do that?" He loudly asks.
"I don't know but you need to figure it out, Kayla might actually kill you in your sleep."
You grab your coat and head for the door, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation for the day ahead. You were going hiking with your sister and her husband, and you couldn't wait to explore the great outdoors with them. As you glance at the clock, you groan in annoyance, realizing you're running late again. You can't help but wonder why you're always so disorganized and frazzled.
You pull the door open, taking a deep breath of fresh air as you step outside. Suddenly, you're nearly choking on air as you see a familiar face staring back at you. Jolly stands there with a backpack over his shoulder, his long hair draped over his shoulders, and a black backward hat covering the top of his head. He's dressed in black skin jeans and a deep red plaided flannel, looking effortlessly stylish and cool.
Your shock disappears as quickly as it came, replaced by annoyance at the sight of Jolly. You can't help but feel irritated that he's here, disrupting your plans for the day. You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel a little bitter still.
"Hi." He quietly says, looking from you to the ground, feeling awkward. He hadn't planned what he was going to tell you.
"Can I come in?" he quietly asks.
You nod your head, stepping aside. "I was leaving, but I guess this kind of changes my plans," you say, rolling your eyes. "What are you even doing here?" You say as you follow him to the living room. "I've tried so hard not to think about you; I moved states, Jolly, and now you're at my house. Are you trying to make my life hard?" You don't sit down knowing you're too heated to stay in one place.
Jolly doesn't sit on the couch either. Instead, he sits on the armrest, staring at you with confusion and annoyance; he folds his hands in his lap and allows you to continue. Why was everyone so irritated with him? He didn't know what he did in the first place. "What did I do?" He questions.
You're eyes dart back to him. "You treated me like I was special, OK? I thought I was special to you…then, you go and date other people." You say, running out of breath. "Then I dated other people because I thought you didn't want me and I was right, you didn't care at all, but then I dumped them because all I could think about was you!" You dramatically cover your face with your hands, pacing back and forth. You enter your kitchen and stare out the sliding glass door. Your back facing Jolly as he observes you. "I stayed in your bed the night before I left, and you still let me go."
"I thought you were leaving for a job! I didn't want to be the reason you didn't go!" He whines. "You told me you were leaving for a job."
You still don't turn around to look at him, knowing he was right, "I just thought you'd ask me to stay if you really wanted me."
He stands straight, walking toward you; you feel his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him. His dark eyes scan your face, wishing he wasn't the reason you were upset.
He leans in close, his breath warm on your face. "You were always special to me," he whispers, his voice low and sincere. "I never meant to hurt you. I was just confused and scared. I didn't know how to handle my feelings for you. I was afraid of losing you, so I pushed you away. I never stopped thinking about you. I came here to tell you that. To tell you that I'm sorry. To tell you I need you."
Jolly pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for a sign of forgiveness. He gently cups your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. He smiles softly, his eyes shining with hope. "Can you give me another chance?" he asks, his voice pleading.
You feel a surge of emotion, a mix of anger, pain, and love. You want to scream at him, to push him away. But you also want to hug him, to kiss him, to hold him close. You're torn between your head and your heart. You look into his eyes, and you see the sincerity and the regret.
You see the man you fell in love with, the man who made you laugh, the man who made you feel alive. You feel your resolve weakening, your walls crumbling. You lean in and press your lips to his, answering his question with a kiss.
"So I'm bringing you home." He smiles against your lips. Pulling back, his brown eyes search yours, "This long distance thing isn't how I want to start this." he gently kisses your forehead.
You nod knowingly, "I guess we should start packing."
Jolly smiles, running his hand through your hair, "I'm pretty sure Kayla has a timer set."
You giggle. "She is absolutely crazy." You lean up, kissing Jolly again. "But it's why we love her."
He nods in agreement, "Plus she's Noah's problem."
With a cautious glance, you gently push the front door open, hoping no one will notice your arrival and ambush you as soon as you enter the house.
You sneak into the living room on your tiptoes, holding Jolly's hand.
Noah and Kayla are so engrossed in the TV show that they don't even look at you.
You pretend to be nonchalant and sit down on the recliner next to them, giving them a hard stare.
Her eyes widen as she realizes who you are, and she jumps off the couch and runs toward you. You're home! This is fucking amazing!" She screams in your ear. "I was expecting you guys to take more time, to be honest…you both suck at directions. I don't know how you managed to drive all the way back here." She laughs as she releases you from her hug and embraces Jolly instead, "Look at you. I can finally be in the same room as you without being pissed off. I'm so proud of you." She jokes with him. "Wow," She scans the room and sees the three of you together. "So, is it official now? Can we all just admit how stupid the two of you were? I mean, come on, you could have just moved down the street instead of moving two states away." She snuggles up to Noah on the couch. "I'm not going through this again. You guys have to sort things out by yourselves from now on." She says and acts like she's dismissing you.
Jolly chuckles, sitting in the recliner; he grabs you and makes you sit on his lap, catching you off guard.
You shake your head light laughter falling from your lips, "Well, I missed you too, dick."
You lean into Jolly's chest and wrap your arms around him, feeling his warmth and heartbeat. You sigh in contentment and happiness, glad to be home with the people who loved you the most.
#jolly karlsson x y/n#jolly karlsson x you#jolly karlsson one shot#jolly karlsson fanfiction#jolly karlsson fic#jolly karlsson x reader#jolly Karlsson fluff#bad omens fanfiction#bad omens fic
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an update on cat guy because it's been a hot minute since i've done one, i think. i don't remember if i've talked about him lately so here goes.
i had a date with cat guy on monday night; met his extended family again for his cousin's birthdy party (which i was informed about ON MONDAY MORNING SO I WAS LIKE HUH), was somehow roped into being in some of the pictures as well so i'm like- oh. they remember me, but i don't remember their names lmfao weflnewklnf
i ended up staying over (like i've been doing literally every date now lmfao).
ANYYWAAYYY, we've been having this thing where tickle fights (started by my menace self) would turn into his face being so close to mine, and i'd have to resist the temptation to kiss him just because i love playfighting with him (because i know once i give in, he'd kiss me hard and wouldn't let me go for a damn while) even though it ends up with me losing EVERY TIME.
and i also just love hearing him laughing. like, sometimes he'd try to kiss me and i'd pretend to give in and then be like HAHA no- we STILL HAVE MORE OF THIS TO GO!
whenever i actually give up because i lowkey tired myself out with all the resisting, he'd move in closer and... well, yeah.
FORGIVE A GIRL FOR GIVING INTO THE TEMPTATION OF RELIEVING THAT SEXUAL TENSION OKAY.
(TMI below the line, if you don't want to see me share the details then spare yourself lmfao)
now that's out of the way.
things would get pretty hot and heavy (my question to him last night, verbatim, after we calmed down a little: "how do we always end up like this?" and mfer goes "is there a problem with that?" in his usual teasing tone while holding me even closer to him EVERY GOD DAMN TIME.
and no, i'm not complaining, because i have needs and wants and i am not someone who's afraid to admit that and usually i want that to happen which is why i start the tickle fights HAHAH
so that night, let's just say i was being a very needy lil shit (his thigh was involved) and i was like blabbering and being all like "this is so embarrassing" in a soft whine, and this man goes:
"it's so hot," in that husky voice of his.
FUCKING EXCUSE-
he also called me his good girl once again AND IT NEVER FAILS TO MAKE ME FEEL SO SHY LKWENFWEKN
anyways.
after that first session (yes we had another one afterwards, stfu-), i was telling him how i wanna make him feel good too (he's always the one making me feel good and i felt so selfish for receiving so much and giving so little).
he proceeds to tell me, "you make me happy. i like making you feel good and as long as you feel good and you're happy, then i feel good, too."
and me, while stroking his hair and feeling guilty with the knowledge that he's usually the one giving, "but are you happy?" (and when i asked that, even though he already said i make him happy, i meant like... is he really happy?? considering how, in my head, he was giving so much and i wasn't returning much. not because i don't want to but because he never asks for much even when i straight up ask him what he wants me to do with him. i'm just someone who very easily doubts things).
and motherfucker on a truck (the sweetheart that he fucking is onrgklfnw), goes: "yeah. i'm happy when you're happy, because i love you so much" and lays his head on my chest and i'm likeee HELLLPPPPPP ofnewklnfw 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
after like a moment or two because my brain is a piece of laggy shit, i mutter a soft "i love you, too" and hold him closer to me bECAUSE I'M BAD AT EXPRESSING MY AFFECTIONS WITH WORDS AND SAYING I LOVE YOU IS NOT SOMETHING THAT NATURALLY COMES TO ME EVEN WHEN IT'S SAID TO ME FIRST OKAY, LEAVE ME ALONEEEEE
i've asked him plenty of times prior to this time what he wants me to do with him and it all boils down to this: he's someone who likes to please, rather than to be pleased.
which is fair enough, but i did tell him if he ever wants me to do anything, he can tell me.
but yeah. all this happened.
and i can't wait to see him again for his friend's birthday party, which he invited me to wlknfe
it's so funny bc i feel like i'm slowly entering his world and i'm part of his comfort zone now.
he's also an insufferable piece of shite and a right old prat at times, but i love him either way <3
he also did suggest something he's wanted to try but never got around to doing so after that talk of ours, which lead into the second session SAURRR
:))) i love him-
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I've been on this site for over ten years and I've never had to do this, but sadly the time has come where I feel forced to make a call out post, if only for the safety of my blog.
Please do not harass this person. PLEASE DO NOT HARASS THEM! That is not my goal here. That said, I do suggest you avoid them at all costs, for your own safety and sanity.
A few days ago, I made a post responding to some anonymous hate I received regarding Gale Dekarios, a character from BG3. An account named Turtwg, who has now changed her name to Shdowheart, took issue with the content and tone of my post. Instead of simply blocking me, she attacked me and several other people in the notes, and accused me of sending the anon to myself.
I responded, arguing against her accusations and a few other remarks she made. Just typical fandom discourse. Or so I thought.
I regret it now (only because I've lost some evidence), but I deleted many of her and my messages. They were clogging up my post and veering extremely off topic, but eventually she admitted I didn't send the anon to myself. When I asked her how she knew that, she said she traced the anon to a Gale-centric account. You see, she believed the anon wasn't sent by an Astarion fan, but by a Gale fan trying to create discourse. In a normal situation, I'd say that's a fair assumption for anyone to make, but something seemed off.
First of all, despite several people telling her it's not possible to track down blogs through their anonymous messages, she insisted she found the user responsible—which honestly made me wonder if she sent the anon herself, hoping to create drama. If she did, then mission accomplished, I guess. We messaged back and forth in the notes for a while, with me commenting on both the impossibility and morality of tracking down an anonymous user. During that time, her responses to me were lightning fast. Constant. Remember that for later.
Second, she soon told me she had the anon's IP address, which she said she'd "happily send me". I told her an IP address doesn't prove anything because it can be photoshopped and a lot of people use VPNs. I also pointed out how utterly insane it is to dox/cyberstalk someone over a post about a video game. It's really not that serious. But out of sheer curiosity, I told her to give me the blog name. Not because I believed her, but because I was curious to see if she'd accuse a popular blog or someone who could defend themselves. The moment I asked, she went silent for nearly an hour. 🤔
When she came back, she gave me the name of an account called Dekariosbf. She told me to message the account, so I did, though I made no accusations against them yet. As I waited for a reply, I accused Turtwg of making the account herself, as it was barren with no activity whatsoever. No likes, no posts, nothing. She easily could've created the account during that hour of peace. Moreover, after she gave me the account name and I accused her of creating it, her responses were once again lightning fast. 🤔
As we argued, I sent my brother-in-law and a friend of mine a link to my blog and had them read through the discourse. They don't have Tumblr accounts, but they're both computer nerds and my brother-in-law literally works with computers/programs for a living. I asked them if anything Turtwg said was valid, and they (along with someone else in the notes who claimed to work in UI/UX) confirmed that no, absolutely nothing she said was valid. Tumblr pays for a service that protects their users, and the only way to trace anons is by using extremely unsavory and illegal methods ... and even then it's extremely unlikely to work.
Speaking of, my brother-in-law eventually messaged me and told me he found the actual account that sent the anon. I stupidly believed him and jumped the gun on that, because it turns out he was just being a shit disturber. That said, I used this information to call Turtwg out on her lies. In response, Dekariosbf miraculously (and in a rather timely fashion) responded to me. Unfortunately I don't have any screenshots of this interaction, but I'll explain why in a moment.
Dekariosbf was chatty and cordial at first. I asked them for their main account name, but they refused to give it, saying they only use it for poetry; which, as you can see from the screenshot, directly contradicts their bio, but I digress. I was suspicious, but also kept in mind the possibility that this might've been an innocent person Turtwg accused. For a while we shot the shit, talking back and forth about BG3, reading, teaching—but I did this for a reason. I wanted to get a feel for their writing style. Sure enough, they wrote exactly like Turtwg. Same spelling mistakes, same pattern of punctuation, same use of lower case letters instead of capital letters, same abbreviations, etc.
Finally, when I was sure it was her, I dropped the bomb. I very gently told "Dekariosbf" that someone named Turtwg accused them of sending me a hateful Gale anon, but that I didn't believe it. Low and behold, they did a complete 180.
"Yes, it was me. It was totally me. I just LOVE your blog and RESPECT you so much. I LOVE Gale and I wanted to know what you'd say if I sent that anon. It wasn't meant to be hateful. Please don't write a call out post about me. Please don't tell your followers. I mean, I understand if you do, but please don't. Turtwg messaged me and threatened to dox me and sent me a photo of my IP address. She's so smart, I don't think you should mess with her. Oh and my mom can't speak English. If we get doxxed, I think it would kill her."
Right...
I said I didn't believe them and accused them of being Turtwg on a sock account. They kept insisting they weren't, begged me to believe they sent the anon (and I mean they were desperate for me to believe it), and very strangly didn't express any anger or confusion over the situation. When I brought up the accusation, they completely changed their tone from friendly to "oh yeah, that was me". I kept saying I didn't believe them, particularly because of what my brother-in-law said, but promised not to call any attention to them. I was happy to simply let the matter rest. Suddenly, mid conversation, they deleted their entire blog. Poof. It's gone now, along with all our messages.
I thought that would be the end of it, but not even five minutes after Dekariosbf flung themselves into the void, Turtwg herself DMed me out of nowhere and accused me of trying to hack her account, presumably because I told "Dekariosbf" that my brother-in-law is computer savvy. Keep in mind that before this moment, our entire conversation took place in the notes of my post. I never DMed her, nor did I have any intention of doing so. I also had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, I just knew she was lying to me. Now it looks as though she's ramping up to lie to the Tumblr admins in order to get my account deleted.
And all because my post about a video game made her angry.
I really hate drawing attention to this. You can see in my other posts that I always censor people's usernames, but as I said at the beginning ... I don't feel like I have a choice this time. I want this up so the Tumblr admins or whoever can see it.
Turtwg has attacked other people for posting their opinions as well. For example, she attacked this person just because they expressed their opinon on wyllsterion. She went so far as to call them racist when Wyll is literally one of their favourite characters. She just got mad because they don't think Wyll and Astarion make sense together; a perfectly valid opinion. And I only know about this because I received messages warning me about interacting with Turtwg/Shdowheart from someone who recognised them in the notes of my post.
I guess I should've blocked her from the start, but I've said many times in the past that I enjoy a good debate. Plus I was genuinely curious to see how far she was willing to take her lie. Unfortunately, I underestimated just how unhinged she truly is. On her own blog, she's even admitted that she's had to make a new account seven times, likely due to other drama she started.
I was very hesitant to put this in the BG3 tags, but since that seems to be the fandom she interacts with the most, I figured it would be a fair warning to anyone else she might harass. She's particularly active in the Astarion/Wyll/Wyllsterion tags. Stay safe, everyone. I think I'll sign off for a while. I'm tired, and this has somehow become the most toxic fandom I've ever dared to be a part of.
Please do not harass this person. PLEASE DO NOT HARASS THEM! That is not my goal here. That said, I do suggest you avoid them at all costs, for your own safety and sanity.
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