#{out of cinnamon rolls || ooc}

[rubiesintherough]

.

[risingmccns]

I’m putting out an affiliates call! So hit that heart if you want to be affiliates! It’ll likely go on my rules page, my pinned, and perhaps on my muses doc as well.

[mournwatched]

Orvyn has major Polites energy

[bloodyarn]

Babsi birthday in one week *screams*

[luv-lies]

I DON’T HAVE BABY FEVER .ᐟ

characters. satoru gojo / suguru geto / kento nanami / choso kamo / toji fushiguro / ryomen sukuna / hiromi higuruma

content warnings. fem!reader / established relationship / pet names / lots of compliments / suggestive / sukuna refers to reader as brat / toji’s takes place after megumi / reader and suguru take care of nanako & mimiko / lovesick and desperate men / meshinuma reference for higuruma’s / lots of touching summary. baby fever is a contagious feeling and your husband is definitely not immune to it. . .

a/n. ummm… luvie’s comeback !! this has been in my drafts since june and i’ve only jus’ finished it now "( – ⌓ – ) i think the characters are ooc, but i wanted to get this out of my drafts before the end of this month ! sorry if it’s rushed ㅜㅜ fanart by @/tekla135 on x

SATORU GOJO

“you look so pretty.” satoru’s words were muffled by your stomach, face smushed against you as he covered your skin in feather-light kisses. it was constant, though recently, his touches were more gentle and longing, eyes following you everywhere like a lost puppy. “always so pretty. . .”

your fingers tangled in his hair, lightly tugging at the strands. his eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, every gentle tug sending shivers down his spine. satoru desired you more than he had ever desired anything, content with just having you in his arms, yet lately, his thoughts had been drifting to a future where you had a little one to hold as well. he could imagine the three of you enjoying ice-cream together while walking through a park, all of you wearing matching socks and onesies, and cuddling on the couch watching movies.

“toru?” you asked quietly, noticing the distant expression on satoru’s face, “are you okay?”

satoru hummed with a dopey grin, leaning into your hand and kissing your palm. “just thinking about you.” and he was. almost all of his thoughts started with you. except now, his thoughts started with you and one— maybe two little additions to your family he wouldn’t mind sharing his love with.

SUGURU GETO

ever since you and suguru took in nanako and mimiko, suguru’s doted on the girls and practically spoiled them with anything and everything they’ve asked for. he’d never been one to tell them no.

even now as his hand rested on your hip, squeezing at the bare skin every once in a while as the both of you got comfortable in your shared bed. you could feel his warm breath hitting the back of your neck, his thighs pressed against yours with his other hand resting just below your breast. “y’know. . .” suguru began, gently squeezing your hip again and shifting closer so he could rest his chin on your shoulder, “the girls have been asking for a sibling.”

sometimes, suguru found himself yearning to ask you the same question. he loved nanako and mimiko, he really did, but he often caught himself thinking about having his own child. a child that shared his eyes and your beautiful smile, perhaps even your warm laughter. the thought sent a warmth spreading across his cheeks, his heart aching with love, desperation, and most of all, longing.

“yeah?” you asked with a chuckle, looking over your shoulder where he planted a kiss. “yeah.” suguru repeated, trailing kisses up to your ear, hand slowly massaging your breast. “you’ll look so gorgeous.”

KENTO NANAMI

the smell of the fresh pastry and sweet cinnamon rolls hit your face as soon as you stepped into the bakery you and your husband visited frequently. a small child, only about the height of your knee, accidentally walked into you and dropped his plush toy. out of the goodness of your heart, you bent down and picked the fluffy bunny up off the ground and held it out the boy. “are you alright?”

shyly, the boy grabbed the toy, nodded, and murmured a quiet “thank you, miss”, before rushing off past the both of you. you stood up straight and glanced over at kento when you noticed his gaze on you, a faint smile on his lips. "is something on my face?" you asked self consciously, your face turning a slight shade of red.

kento simply shook his head and instead brushed a few strands of hair away from your face, “i just think you were being very sweet.” though what you did was what anyone else might’ve done, to kento, it was the sweetest thing in the world—simply because it was you. if it had been someone like satoru, he probably wouldn’t have given it a second thought. but in that moment, seeing how gentle you were with that child, it only made him fall in love with you all over again.

CHOSO KAMO

choso’s arms were tightly wrapped around you, fingers daintily tracing shapes across your lower back. a content sigh escaped his lips, his hold on you tightening just a little bit more. his mind raced, questioned and already pre-made outcomes swirling in a chaotic dance. kids—or the possibility of them—had been a conversation he longed to ask. choso was a family-oriented man. he cherished his brothers deeply and he knew that he would love his own child just as fiercely if you two ever had one.

“do you think. . .” choso began, pausing, he swallowed thickly, “do you think we could ever have a child?”

if you said no, his love wouldn’t waver for a moment. though he would feel disappointed, your happiness was all he truly desired. he was madly in love, his love for you so intense he thought he would die from heart palpitations each and every time you even spared him a single glance.

with a contemplative hum, you slowly nodded. “would you like it if we tried?” he exhaled deeply, a soft smile adorning his lips as he mimicked your head movement. “i’d like that.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

despite having said he was done having kids after megumi, toji’s hand always seemed to linger on your stomach a little longer than necessary. if you asked, he’d probably give you a look and call you delusional for even thinking he wanted to have another baby. toji doesn’t get baby fever. he had already been through parenthood; sleepless nights and diapers.

“—but they’re just so cute and small.” your attempts to persuade toji felt futile. he placed his hand on his shoulder and rolled it with a low grunt. “i already told you, no.” you buried your face in the pillow, sulking. toji glanced back, raising an eyebrow at your behavior. “don’t start. we’ve already talked about this,” he said, his tone gruff. noticing your silence, his expression softened slightly and he patted your hip. “c’mon, sit.”

wordlessly, you shifted to sit on his lap, a lingering pout on your lips. toji raised his hand and used his thumb to brush down on your bottom lip to coax the frown away. “don’t give me that face. i just don’t want to rush you if you’re not ready,” he muttered lowly, reluctant to give into your pout. “i’m ready, toji.” you whispered, meeting his gaze with a pleading look he could never say no to. he let out grunt, his resolve crumbling, and with a firm grip on your thighs, lifted you up effortlessly, laying you down on the bed.

“get ready then, sweetheart. ‘s gonna be a long night.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA

before he met you, he never once thought of having a child of his own. they were small, annoying, and would only get in the way of his peaceful evenings with you. so when he saw you tending to a small child crying in a supermarket, he couldn’t help the way his heart began to beat a little faster in a mixture of annoyance and desire at the sight of you. infuriating, to say the least. but sukuna’s never been one to shy away from what he wanted, a truth made abundantly clear by the fact you’re still by his side—and, more specifically, nestled on his lap.

“i want an heir.” one pause, then another. you gawked at him in disbelief. “what?” his hands possessively kneaded at your hips before one of them rested on your stomach, you could feel the weight of his gaze on your smaller form. never once had he ever hinted at wanting a child. “i won’t repeat myself, brat,” sukuna grumbled impatiently, his eyes bored into yours. “you are the only woman i want as the mother of my child.”

as demanding as he may be, sukuna truly cared for you. you were the only human he tolerated—the only one he desired. in a world where hatred and fear was the only emotion reflected in the eyes of those who gazed upon him, yours were warm, your presence offering him a kind of solace he had never felt before. and for the first time, he had felt peace.

“i will teach the brat how to punish those who cross us.” “ryomen.”

HIROMI HIGURUMA

“daddy!” a high-pitched voice called out from behind you and your husband, hiromi. you turned to see a little girl now hugging his leg tightly, her nose tinted pink and her eyes a little puffy from what you assumed, crying. surprised and slightly bewildered, the both of you exchanged a glance before you kneeled down to her level. “are you lost, sweetie?” you asked gently.

the girl quickly pulled away when she realized that she wasn’t hugging her papa and in fact, a stranger, her bottom lip quivered as if she was about to cry again, “i can’t find my daddy. he told me to find the shaved ice stall, but i don’t know where it is.”

you smiled warmly and extended your hand out towards her. “it’s okay, let’s go find it and wait there together.” the little girl’s eyes brightened at your offer, and she nodded eagerly, grabbing your hand.

oh. . . the way you smiled at her, so sweetly, so motherly. higuruma almost felt feverish, his heart swelling with a different warmth, an unfamiliar longing. the thought was dizzying and almost addicting. you would look so beautiful—stunning, not that you aren’t already, but the thoughts and images of you pregnant struck him in a way that made his poor heart ache. in that moment, he knew he was entirely screwed, completely captivated and unable to shake the image of you and your child out of his mind.

© 2024 LUV-LIES do not plagiarize, steal, translate or repost my works on any platforms!

[jadedviews]

serenity and verity are my favorite oc's ever idk what to tell u guys.

[its-rach-writes]

Cinnamon and Art Galleries - Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Your friend, Emily brings a cute stranger to your art exhibition.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff, probably ooc Spencer

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this! This was my first time writing for Spencer so he's probably out of character but please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

You smiled as you drew the cat in the hot chocolate foam and handed it to the little girl on the other side of the counter with her mom. It melted your heart when her face lit up and she waved at you as her mom steered her out of the café. It was slow in your café today but you didn’t mind, you used the time to set up for the beginner art class you were going to be teaching on Saturday.

“Hey girl,” you glanced up when the bell rang and your friend Emily walked in.

You smiled when you saw her and gave her a wave. She was the first friend you had made when you moved to DC.

“Hey,” you smiled, “having the usual?”

“Please,” she grinned.

You got to work, making her one black coffee, the other was a milky coffee with a shot of cinnamon syrup. You knew that Emily drank the black coffee so you couldn’t help but wonder who the overly sweet coffee was for. You carefully selected the cinnamon roll with the most frosting and slid it into a bag, being careful to not let it stick to the paper bag.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Emily started and you scoffed with a laugh.

As soon as you found out your art was going to be featured in an exhibition, Emily was the first person you told, “the team are coming to see it.”

You raised an eyebrow, secretly you were grateful, “FBI Agents don’t have anything better to do?”

She laughed, “not tonight, I even managed to talk the good Dr into coming.”

“The elusive Spencer Reid?” you rested your hip against the counter as you handed her the coffees, “how did you manage that?” from what Emily had told you, it didn’t seem like Spencer Reid liked social situations.

“I’ve got killer interrogation skills,” she smirked, “he’s cute too.”

You internally groaned, yours and Emily’s definition of ‘cute’ were very different, for all you knew Spencer Reid was an aging Professor, “as long as you don’t try and set us up, like you tried with me and Morgan.”

“No promises,” she laughed as she backed out of the café, “I’ll see you tonight.”

Later that night, you were sipping champagne as people perused your exhibition, your paintings were both inspired by Pre-Raphaelite art and the King Arthur legends. You noticed a man was standing at your painting of the Knights of the Round Table, so you walked over and decided to strike up a conversation.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” his lips twitched into a small smile as he looked down at you with gorgeous deep brown eyes, “you’re the artist right?” when you nodded, he looked back at the painting, “you’re really good.”

“Thanks, I love Pre-Raphaelite art.”

“Did you know that the Pre-Raphaelites were a secret society of young artists, founded in London in 1848? They were opposed to the Royal Academy’s promotion of the ideal as exemplified in the work of Raphael,” he blurted this out like he’d memorised it from a textbook and you worked hard to conceal a laugh.

“I did know that,” you giggled.

“Right of course,” he flushed, “of course you knew that.”

Something struck a memory, something that Emily had told you, “wait, are you Spencer Reid?” he looked at you with slightly wary eyes before nodding and you smiled, “I’m Y/N, Emily has told me so much about you.”

“It’s all lies,” he joked and glanced over his shoulder, “she’s making the most of the bar right now.”

You laughed as you looked over too and she waved, lifting up a glass in a motion of cheers. When she had said Spencer was cute, it was an understatement, he was young and gorgeous.

“Are you interested in art?” you asked as you sipped your champagne.

Spencer nodded, “I like looking at it, I’m afraid I’m not very artistic.”

“And here, we thought you were perfect,” you heard a chuckle from over your shoulder and you turned to see Derek Morgan and the rest of the BAU, Morgan pulled you into a hug, “congratulations sweetheart.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as you pulled away and looked at the others, “thank you for coming.”

It was a great night and you were grateful for everyone that came but soon, you were starting to get overwhelmed so you went out onto the balcony for a cigarette. Though it seemed as though someone else had beaten you to it. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced over his shoulder and smiled at you.

“Hey, you want some company?”

“Sure,” he smiled.

There was comfortable silence for a while as both of you looked over at the lights of DC, your cigarette smoke curling in the air. Soon enough, Spencer spoke up.

“So what do you do? Is art your full time thing?”

“I own the café by the library, but I’m integrating art into the café, I’m teaching a beginner class at the weekend from there.”

“No way! Seriously?” he smiled, looking animated, “your coffee is so good and your cinnamon rolls? Amazing.”

You laughed, “Emily gets the cinnamon roll with the most frosting for you?”

“Yeah,” he flushed, he opened his mouth to say something else when he was interrupted by Aaron Hotchner.

“Reid, we just got called in,” he glanced at you, an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“No, it’s okay,” you smiled when Spencer pushed himself off the railing, “it was really nice to meet you Spencer.”

He flushed and offered you a shy smile, “it was nice to meet you too, I’ll see you soon?”

You nodded and Emily pulled you into a tight hug, whispering in your ear, “I’ll make sure he sees you soon,” you laughed, shaking your head as she pulled away.

On Saturday, you were setting up for the art class when you heard the tinkle of the bell and you glanced up. None other than Spencer Reid was standing in the open doorway, the sun like a halo around his head.

“Thought you might need a hand.”

[sexlapis]

[◉°] …TOJI & Y/N BEING A COUPLE FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT PART 4 … 764k views

—̳͟͞͞♡

ᰋ actor!toji x actor/actress!reader

synopsis: your fans truths delusions about the nature of you & toji’s relationship continues.

a/n: actor!toji is still here guys! ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა

sfw, fluff, crack, ooc toji, mentions of smoking

masterlists

actor!toji masterlist

part one, two, three

*

ᰋ first clip

“hi guys! welcome to ‘baking with y/n, episode two’!” you yell at the camera, grinning, “and today i will be cooking with…” waving your hands out to the side, you announce your guest, “toji fushiguro! come on toji!”

toji’s big stature strolls into view with his hands in his pockets. he makes the entire kitchen area shrink around him due to his domineering size and overall presence.

“alright, alright..” toji chimes, “not too much now.”

“toji. don’t big yourself up too much. this is still my show,” you smile at his dumb, flabbergasted face and turn your attention back to the viewers, “today, we’ll be making cinnamon rolls! mmhmm!”

meanwhile, toji is tying a too-small apron around his torso, tightening it around is cinched waist. his seemingly intimidating demeanour is nullified by the pink, frilly gingham fabric that graces his body.

“‘don’t happen to have any other aprons, do ya?”

“no, why-” you choked on your own spit when you look at the state of toji - wearing a tiny, delicate apron on his large frame.

“toji, wow…you look so nice…”

“you be quiet.”

ᰋ second clip

as a fashion show attendee, and a significant one at that, you were given some of the best seats in the venue. coincidentally, you are placed right next to your friend, toji fushiguro.

when a member of staff leads you to your seat, you seem surprised and happy to find toji there, smiling broadly. toji’s face cannot be seen in the video, but from the way he stood up to greet and hug you, it appears that he reciprocated your feelings!

you both settle in your seats and before long, the show begins. the models walk by. and more models. and even more models.

before you know it, your eyes grow heavy, your head occasionally dipping and shooting back up again. you seemed so tired…

toji looks at you and rubs your knee, speaking a few words to you. in response, you yawn and nod gently. toji leans in a little, whispering words unheard to onlookers and you in turn. you then rest your head on his big, pillowy shoulder, holding onto his elbow as you try not to fall asleep. he rubs his hand over your smaller ones.

you do end up falling asleep. at the fashion event that you were specially invited to by the designer themselves.

luckily for you, the sweet moment between you and toji overshadowed your sleepy behaviour!

ᰋ third clip

when walking on the red carpet of the season two premier of ‘jujutsu kaisen’, you are dragged around for pictures and interviews and speaking with other actors. but one interview with you and toji has everybody talking.

as you answer the question you have received from the interviewer, toji stands beside and he is…not paying attention to your words per say.

his eyes wander from the top of your perfectly styled hair and down to your sharp tailored clothes that fit on your body so nicely.

toji is not at all subtle as he full on checks you out.

“look at their outfit…” he mumbles, shamelessly interrupting the interviewer who was speaking, just to talk about how good you look.

“yea-yeah! they look great!” the interviewer compliments you, a little thrown off by toji’s interruption.

“so, so beautiful…”

you laugh shyly at toji’s words, brushing down your clothes and looking down at yourself, “toji, are you even listening to the questions?”

“what questions?”

ᰋ fourth clip

you are a famous and respected actor. of course you must do a ‘what’s in my bag’ video with vogue.

after going through a couple of your obscure items, you come across some of the more treasured ones that you carry around with you.

“and this-,” you giggle, holding up a small, soft brown stuffed deer toy in the palm of your hand, “this is the little toy that toji got me! i liked the brand that makes these, so we got a toy that reminded us of one another…and he got me a deer.”

you are asked what toy you got for toji.

“i got toji an angry looking white bear. it suits him.”

later on through the video, you pull out a silver, vintage lighter.

“right. so…toji gave me this lighter too,” you flick it on and off a few times, “i told him i don’t smoke and he just say “you say that now but you’ll feel differently after doing this job for five years”” you cackle loudly at the memory, “…yeah, he’s not exactly wrong about that…”

ᰋ fifth clip

blurry footage emerges of you and toji at the after party of an awards show.

the dance area is filled with people dancing and commotion everywhere, but somehow, a fan noticed you and toji in the corner of the room.

a sensual r&b song plays in the background as you dance imperfectly, in between toji’s spread legs, looking at him and promoting him to join you.

he stares at you and takes a swig of his drink. the tie he wears is loose and his hair ruffled.

as you dance along with the song, toji stands and tames your hand in his, spinning you around and pulling you right against his chest and sways the both of you. toji rests his face on the side of your head and closes his eyes as you laugh at his antics.

that one video confirmed every single suspicion that your fans ever had about you and toji.

*

tag list: @tiredslepz | @hayatslife | @shxyxyxxxx | @snowprincesa1 | @laylasbunbunny | @mimiemie | @ncentic | @rosesored | @imover-18 | @gintokhi | @suzuperstarr | @lostgxrlblog | @jallie10 | @nnsav | @bunnyx-sakura | @bubbabobabubbles | @ladytamayolover | @keiva1000 | @morgyyyyyyy | @studiecoherence | @earth2fae | @ce-namonreads | @ib4ryuguji | @hisjaegerist | @basiloverthyme | @sweet-kiwi | @sayitowshi | @iovemytoru | @thecompletechaosmaster | @sugutoad | @inumakiiz | @uzxotic | @1meshugge1 | @kunikuzushisbeloved

a/n: an actor!toji fic after 2 months. he lives!

[labwebs]

🕸i’ll probably make a proper headcanon post eventually but i feel like one of the biggest indicators about how chill peter is around someone else is (if they know about him being spider-man) how casually he’ll use his powers around them?? like the guy, on his own, will regularly hang upside-down from the ceiling or pace on the walls while he’s thinking. if he does that sort of stuff around your character? he trusts them 1000000000%.

[revasserium]

death before decaf

opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms

summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.

a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.

one.

“How long did you say?”

“Two weeks, max.”

“Nah… you think?”

“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”

Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.

“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”

Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”

Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.

“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.

“Can I get a decaf latte with —”

“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.

You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.

Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.

“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.

“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”

Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.

“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”

Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”

Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.

“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.

You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.

“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”

Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.

You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.

“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”

“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”

“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”

“Princess.”

“Edgelord.”

You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.

“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.

Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.

“I’m gonna be late for practice.”

You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.

Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.

“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.

“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”

“Alright then, you’re on.”

Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”

two.

You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.

“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”

Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”

You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”

“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.

You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”

Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.

“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.

“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”

“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”

You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”

Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.

“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”

You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.

You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.

But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.

“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.

“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”

At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.

“Have I ever denied that I was?”

You let out a noncommittal grunt.

Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.

“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.

You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.

“So what?”

“Tell me about him.”

You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“

“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.

“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.

“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.

“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”

Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”

Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.

“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”

Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”

Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.

“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”

“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”

You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”

Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.

“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”

You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.

“Wait — what?”

Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.

“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”

You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.

“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.

“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”

Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“

“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”

You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.

“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.

“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.

“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.

When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.

“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”

She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.

“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.

“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.

Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.

three.

You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.

“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”

You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.

“N-no.”

“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.

You narrow your eyes.

“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.

You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.

Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.

Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.

You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting —

Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.

You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —

What happened to your arm?

You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.

The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.

“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.

Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.

“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.

“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”

And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.

You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.

four.

Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.

“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.

“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.

You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.

Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.

You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.

Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.

“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”

Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.

“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.

Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”

You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.

“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”

“Fuck — okay.”

You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.

Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.

“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”

“And it’s now Tuesday.”

Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.

“It’s been five days!”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”

You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.

“Ow.”

You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.

“You strained your Rhomboid.”

“Gesundheit.”

You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.

“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.

Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.

You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.

“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.

He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.

“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.

Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.

“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”

And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.

five.

Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.

“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”

You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.

On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.

And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.

Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.

And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.

“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”

You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.

You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.

When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.

You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.

When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.

You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.

You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.

Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”

You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.

Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.

“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.

Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.

“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.

Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.

“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.

You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.

“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”

Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.

“Still counts.”

You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.

He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”

Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.

“I always like my —”

They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.

“I — it — wh —”

Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”

You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.

six.

Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.

“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.

You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”

At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”

You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”

Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”

You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”

Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”

You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”

“So?” she asks.

“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.

“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”

You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.

“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.

“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.

“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.

You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.

You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.

“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”

You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.

“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.

“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”

“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.

“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.

You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.

“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”

Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”

You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.

seven.

Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.

You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.

“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.

You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.

But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.

You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.

When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.

He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.

You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.

“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.

Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.

“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”

You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”

He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.

You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.

“I —”

Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.

“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”

Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —

“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”

Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.

You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.

“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”

Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”

You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.

He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.

You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.

“What —”

“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.

“Yeah, well —”

“Wait — no —”

Zoro cocks his head, “No?”

You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.

“We — your shoulder —”

“Fuck my shoulder —”

You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”

You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.

“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.

You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.

“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.

“Mine. It’s closer.”

eight.

His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.

It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.

You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.

“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.

You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”

Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.

“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.

Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.

“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”

Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.

“I still won.”

His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.

Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.

“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.

“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”

Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”

And then, a long moment later —

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”

You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.

There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.

“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”

You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”

Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”

You make no move to leave.

“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.

You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”

He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”

“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”

“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”

You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”

At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”

“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.

You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.

“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.

Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.

“What about breakfast?”

“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”

You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.

“I…. guess.”

Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.

You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.

You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.

“God, you’re gorgeous…”

Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.

“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”

“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.

You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.

“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.

You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.

nine.

Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.

You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.

“Oh… hey.”

Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.

He clears his throat.

“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”

You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.

“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”

Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”

He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.

“So… breakfast and coffee?”

Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”

You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.

“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.

You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.

When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.

But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.

“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”

Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.

“Whoa… so much better.”

You smile, satisfied.

Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”

He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.

“You’ll freeze.”

Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”

You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.

“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”

Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”

Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.

“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.

“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.

You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.

Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.

ten.

There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.

You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.

When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.

“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”

Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.

“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.

“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.

You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”

Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.

“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”

Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.

Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.

Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.

“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”

You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.

You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.

He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.

It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.

“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.

Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”

You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.

“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.

Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”

You scoff, “Says who?”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”

You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.

“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”

You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.

“Kay, whatever you say.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.

Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.

“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”

Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.

“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.

“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”

Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.

She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”

Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.

“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.

“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”

You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.

Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”

Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”

feedback always welcome :) reqs are closed.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 178 }

darling.

yandere!sung jinwoo x bi!fem.reader x yandere!cha hae-in

warnings: violence; ooc hae-in and jinwoo, i’m so sorry.

dedicated to @starzgaze

{ i want to ruin our friendship; we should be lovers instead. }

anonymous said: Helloo!! I don't know if you're willing to do a request but I was thinking an Jinwoo x reader x cha hae in since the reader is bisexual (I can't blame the reader if she's attracted to both of them Because I am too HUHU) although they don't know that they're crushes where Yanderes this whole time KABSKAKSJ :>

once you finished organizing all the reports for the chairman, you hear the older man thanking you for your time as he allowed you to go home for the rest of the day. you smile at chairman go gunhee, reassuring him that it was no trouble helping him at all as you stepped out of his office with a bounce in your step.

lately, the appearance of high leveled gates had become far and few in between. there seemed to be more peaceful days piling on as the hunters and healers alike were given little to do during such a time.

and the cause of this sudden decrease in raids?

a competition between the two most powerful guilds in all of seoul, korea-

the hunters guild vs ahjin guild.

despite being good friends with two of the most prominent members of each guild, (hae-in and jinwoo, respectively), you hadn’t the slightest clue why they were so competitive.

regardless of their reasoning, neither you or your fellow hunters and healers complained. after all, they were doing a great service, making all these gates disappear while restoring peace back to the entire nation within mere days.

as you were heading out of the association building, you felt the hairs stand up at the back of your neck. you had a strange sensation of being watched. your heart was felt pounding with anticipation… and before you could turn around to face whoever was watching you-

the sudden scent of vanilla fills your senses, feeling cha hae-in running up to you while letting out a soft coo of your name. “hello… i’ve missed you!”

her sudden affection and desire to be close to you was a bit out of character from how she usually was, you knew that as a fact. before you ever transferred to korea’s hunter association branch, she was known as being standoffish and aloof, never once getting close to civilians or other hunters since she had such a sensitive sense of smell.

you knew about her mana sensitivities and kept your distance from her out of respect the moment you transferred. however, it all changes when she actually came face to face with you. a dreamy expression would paint her features, and she would come closer to you, literally sniffing at your blouse when she giggles and says, “you smell so good… like sweet cinnamon rolls… just so sugary sweet…”

her comment about the scent of you and your mana makes you feel flustered as you simply thanked her, which was the moment she had proclaimed herself as your best friend.

hae-in giggles while deeply inhaling your scent, basking in it for a few moment before clinging to you. “hey, how about we have another slumber party! it’ll be my treat!”

“huh? hae-in, we had one just a few days ago… are you not tired of seeing me?”

“not at all! come on, the gates haven’t been appearing as much thanks to how well i have been doing, and i want to spend more time with you.” hae-in giggles while clinging to your arm.

you join her in her laughter, actually not minding having so many slumber parties with her since it was quite fun. whether it be having a movie marathon, or gaming with her while enjoying takeout and snacks, you liked spending time with her… maybe even as more than friends.

as you smile back at hae-in and ask about what she would like to get as takeout, you were unaware of the almost victorious expression on her face, her eyes glowing a bright golden hue as she sneered back at the hunter with startling, purple eyes filled with envy.

{ … }

sung jinwoo had tried to kill cha hae-in many times, seeing as though she were the sole threat when it came to obtaining your heart.

but unfortunately for him, the woman was persistent and powerful in her own ways. when she felt threatened, even feeling the tiniest chance of being ripped away from you-

that was when her claws were revealed to him.

he clutches the sharp dagger in his hand, knowing that if he just aimed the weapon slightly to his left, then he would be able to pierce through hae-in’s skull-

however, he did not wish to traumatize you.

it was ultimately the love he had for you that stops him from going through with his plans of killing hae-in right then and there-

you, being as innocent as ever, were completely unaware of the ongoing war he and hae-in shared. ever since he first caught sight of you, accidentally bumping into you as he helped you gather your belongings and get you back on your feet-

jinwoo knew that he was a goner.

he spent countless days and even hours following you, knowing that placing his soldiers within your shadow wouldn’t be enough for him.

(it was never enough for him.)

taking advantage of his powers, he made it his life’s mission to remain ever so close to you, doing all that he could to woo you with various gifts while taking you out on various dates-

however, she would always get in the way of him.

each time he purchases a nice bouquet for you, the next minute, he would find it sabotaged and ripped to shreds.

each time he would try to speak to you and ask you out on a date, hae-in would appear at the most inappropriate times and steal you away from him-

a feat that always manages to make his blood burn with hatred for cha hae-in.

he tried to get rid of her; tried numerous times to rip her heart out so that she could never breathe the same air as you ever again-

but he couldn’t do it.

the woman was far too strong-

and her love for you matched with his.

(a fact that he had to admit and accept in a rather begrudging manner.)

he hated how natural and easy it was for hae-in to get closer to you. being a naturally born woman meant that she was able to steal your attention under the guise of being your “sole best friend.”

whereas jinwoo had to use his shadow soldier’s eyes to watch you sleep-

that damn woman had the pleasure of sharing her bed with you each time she held a ‘sleepover.’ and jinwoo could feel such feelings of envy filling him to the brim as he had to bite down on his tongue to contain his rage, nearly tasting the coppery sensation of his blood from how close he was to biting his tongue off-

but he digressed.

despite all odds, sung jinwoo and cha hae-in were evenly matched-

and if he couldn’t obtain you by getting rid of her, then he’d just have to use the element of surprise…

{ … }

you were currently in hae-in’s apartment, laughing while telling stories with her as she began to paint your nails.

to be honest, she was awful at painting your nails, with each paint stroke of polish leaving an obvious streak against the skin surrounding your cuticles. when she finishes with applying the polish on your last nail, you had to fight back a giggle.

“ah, it seems as though i found the gorgeous and powerful hae-in’s weakness… nail polish.”

weak words of protests fall from her lips, but internally she was screaming with unbidden joy. you called her gorgeous! she’s gorgeous to you!

you continue to softly giggle and take her hand, not even bothering to wait for your own polished nails to dry as you slowly showed her how to paint nails in a more neater manner.

“okay, so always try to follow the curve at the end of your cuticles. it takes a lot of practice, but it’s so satisfying once such a perfect color is put on your nails!”

hae-in made tiny sounds of affirmation, seeming to give you random nods here and there. in all actuality, her face was darkened in a deep red hue, feeling ecstatic and on cloud 9 upon feeling your hand holding on to hers.

within just 20 or so minutes, you finished polishing hae-in’s nails, placing a top coat on it so that it could look shiny and dry faster. you admire your work for a few more minutes before letting her hand go-

only to feel your body being pushed against her mattress.

“eh…? hae-in?” your eyes go wide when hae-in looks down at you with glowing, golden eyes. she lets out a purr of your name all while framing at your face with her two hands.

“you know… we’ve been best friends for a while, right?” hae-in gently caresses at your features, her full lips inching ever so closely to you as you could feel her hot breath on your skin.

“ah, yes, we have…”

the gorgeous blond woman lets out a sigh before pressing a kiss against your cheek, an unexpected touch of affection that causes your heart to race uncontrollably in response.

your whisper of her name was filled with anticipation when hae-in leans closer to you. “best friends like you and i need to know each other’s tastes, right…? you would agree with such a sentiment… right my pretty little darling?”

“u-uhm…!” you couldn’t respond, your mind spinning as hae-in leaned closer and closer to your lips, ready to capture them as you clenched your eyes shut-

but the sensation of her kiss never came.

instead, all you felt was the way the air became much colder, causing you to open your eyes as a scream was heard coming from your parted lips.

a tall, looming shadow swiftly brings down a dagger against hae-in, but her senses were too sharp as she captures the weapon with her hand.

a flash of anger twists her beautiful face, her fury evident as she spat out his name “sung jinwoo, don’t you realize how close you were to hurting my darling girl?!”

“SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE HAD YOU STAYED IN PLACE!” jinwoo roars at hae-in, ripping her body away from you as he slams the woman down on the ground.

the polishes fall against the floors of hae-in’s bedroom in the midst of their scuffle, spilling various colors against the hardwood as it stains at them. your heart was racing, seeing the two most powerful hunters in all of existence fighting each other-

fighting for you.

fighting over you.

you kept seeing flashes of gold and purple clashing together, with jinwoo’s daggers trying to pierce at hae-in, yet she manages to parry each of his cuts with her sword.

you had to do something to stop this madness, but all you felt was an overwhelming sense of dread consuming you.

you adored basking in hae-in and jinwoo’s friendship, and you felt ashamed to admit it, but you developed feelings for both of them…

you never wished to lose either one of them, choosing instead to balance on the cusp of friendship and romance with them. it was hard, keeping them always at an arm’s length away-

and now, they were both going to kill each other-

you were going to lose them both if you didn’t do something now.

“jinwoo, hae-in, PLEASE STOP!”

the desperation was heard in your voice, and it echoes throughout the room. as if awakened from a trance, jinwoo and hae-in stopped their attacks on each other, eyes going dreamy as they moved away from each other. an almost longing sigh of your name was heard coming from them as they dropped their respective weapons and crawled toward you.

“oh no, my darling is afraid.”

“she’s so scared of losing me.”

“i love her, i need to comfort her and tell her that everything will be okay.”

“she’s so sweet and cute… i need to comfort her…”

your breathing becomes labored when jinwoo and hae-in both join you on the bed. they continue to whisper about their devotion to you, completely forgetting the fact that they had just tried to kill each other mere seconds before as they both surrounded you.

jinwoo places your body on top of his while wrapping his arms around your frame.

hae-in opts to remain behind you, practically sandwiching you between her and jinwoo as you shivered at feeling both of their bodies so close to you. unable to respond, you could only remain still when jinwoo and hae-in began littering your throat and neck with heated kisses, all while proclaiming their love for you.

rejoice, for you had captured the hearts of the two most powerful hunters in the world!

or perhaps… a warning for you would be more appropriate… since it will be difficult for you to escape from the intensity of their love unscathed…

a.n. - this is such a different story for me to write, but i figured i could pass time completing this story while waiting for my meeting. ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ currently unedited, but once it’s posted and my meeting is complete, i’ll go back and make any necessary changes. but for now, enjoy!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[risingmccns]

I’m in the mood to do some short back and forth things, so I’m putting out a texting starter call! Like for a randomized text starter from one of my muses, or reply for a text starter from a specific muse! You can read about them in the source link!

[imagineredwood]

4. Stars ✨

Summary: EZ is president now and with that new control over the club has come new control over you.

Pairing: EZ Reyes x female reader

Warnings: 18+ Sexual content MDNI, PIV sex, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation-(everything is consensual but the reader does ask him to stop due to overstimulation, not because she is no longer consenting), EZ talking the reader through it a little condescendingly

Word count: 745

A/N: Named it Stars because that what the 🍆 has you seeing in this one 🥰 Could potentially be seen as a little OOC for EZ, I just went with more of his personality from the later seasons. The more ruthless EZ as opposed to the usual characteristic early on cinnamon roll EZ 🫣 Also none of the other women that he’s been with on the show exist in this timeline so the reader is his first valentine since getting released.

"I can't, I can't, I can't-"

EZ chuckled at your breathless voice, high-pitched, whiny, and desperate as you pushed at his shoulders, trying to earn some reprieve. The vibration against your clit ran a shiver through you, a quiet sob pushing past your lips at the overstimulation. You weren't sure how many times he had made you come now.

You had stopped counting after six.

It was Valentine's Day, and with his time in prison, EZ hadn't had a Valentine to spoil in quite some time. But he had you this year and he had pulled out all of the stops. Breakfast in bed, spending the day together doing the hobbies of your choice, a fancy dinner at your favorite restaurant, and now that you were both home, he had spent the last 45 minutes with his face buried in your pussy eating you like a man starved.

It had been great at first, like always, but somewhere around the fifth orgasm, it had somewhat lost its novelty as you shook and spasmed over and over. He took some pity, opting to move his mouth to your inner thighs, leaving kisses and soft bites while his fingers worked into you instead. He'd given your swollen clit some safety from the abuse for a good few minutes, long enough to help you settle. Just to bring his full lips to it once more, suckling and kissing, your thighs casing tightly around his head.

But he simply laughs again, taking true pleasure in your overstimulation. His goatee has rubbed your lips raw and he pouts slightly as the small welts of irritation that ripple the texture of your sensitive skin.

"Poor baby."

He runs a finger over your slit, shaking his head at the way your hips jerk.

"I can't, EZ. I'm s-serious. I can't...I can't...no more..."

You're having trouble forming words, your brain turned into mush long ago. The Mayan president gets up from his prone position, a kink in his neck that he ignores. He's sitting up on his knees, looking down at you with pride and adoration, his mouth and beard glistening in copious amounts of your slick and his spit. His hand is unceremonious as it comes up to wipe at his mouth, his eyes darker than you ever remember seeing them. Ever since he's taken the gavel, he's been this way. More rough. Primal. Feral even.

And now that he has reduced you to an incoherent babbling mess, he finally grips his cock, thick and solid and leaking, just to tap it sadistically against your puffy pussy. He runs the underside over your clit, reveling in the small hiss you let out at the contact, cooing at you as he does.

"You're ok. You can take it. I know you can. You can be strong for me, right? Can't you?"

His tone was babying yet condescending and you blinked the tears out of your eyes, your head nodding softly. He grinned and leaned down to press his lips to yours, his tongue dominant as it pushed against yours, your taste still in his mouth. He pulled away after a moment more and took hold of himself once again, cock pushing through your lips easily, back and forth, back and forth, your hole clenching on nothing on nothing every time he grazed over your clit.

He finally sunk into you without warning, slow and steady until he was buried within you fully. He leaned his weight on top of you, burly arms coming up to rest on either side of your head, encasing you. His lips kissed and sucked at your jaw as he gave you a moment to adjust, his left hand fisted into your hair. Not pulling or tugging, but ensuring he kept you just where he wanted you. He pulled his hips back then, all the way until he had almost slipped out of you, and then sank all the way back in. Your thighs trembled as they rested against his waist, your breathing shallow and ragged and he continued those strokes, making you see stars.

You made noises that EZ assumed might've been meant to sound like words, but they were unintelligible, so he paid them no mind.

"There you go, baby. That's my good girl. Look how good you take all of me."

You whimpered and nodded, your brain as scrambled as your insides, you having no choice but to lay there and take everything he gave you.

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous   @gangstaliciou06

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon​  @abunnykisses​ @briana-mishell24​  @wrcn9fvlcver​  @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @krysiewithak​  @appropriate-writers-name​  @blessedboo​  @megapeacelovemusic-blog​ @emoengelfurleben​ @blowmymbackout​ @abby-splace​ @kola95​ @black-repunzel99​ @redpoodlern​  @myakai13​

@cruzwalters​  @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty​ @lyly00​ @im-just-a-mississippi-girl​  @angel-121​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @90sisthenew80s​ @lovelytricia @librarian1002

[the-badger-mole]

Love how you shamelessly hate Aang—I mean this totally as a compliment by the way! I’m so tired of seeing “I ship Zutara but I LOOOOVE Aang he’s a cinnamon roll baby!!!” and “you can like Zutara and also like Aang” and “it’s the WRITING that’s bad not Aang!” takes…ugh. Please. He’s a cartoon character and I don’t like him. That isn’t a crime. He’s boring at best and an entitled borderline abusive little shit at worst. I don’t like him! It’s so refreshing to read your blog, I don’t understand this fandom’s obsession with acting like he’s a real child we have to coddle

I don't understand it either. Then again, I will go to the mat to defend some pretty controversial characters, so who am I to judge (justice for Mr. Collins!) ? I don't mind that other people like him -some of my favorite people in the fandom like him- as long as they don't come after me for not liking him.

But yeah, the defense of him boiling down to "bad writing" always felt off. To me, bad writing is when the character suddenly takes actions that seem to come out of nowhere. Aang's actions in the back half of ATLA and into the comics and LoK track. They track very well with who he was even in the first season. Yes, he got worse as the series progressed, but the seeds were always there. I guess, if you want to make an argument for it being bad writing, you could talk about how his bad traits in the first half seemed to be setting up a growth arc that was abandoned in the second half. There's an argument to be made there, but it's not an argument that Aang's worst traits were OOC for him. I am not shocked at the kind of family Aang ended up having. I'm not shocked at how Kataang the couple turned out. I'm only shocked that Bryke managed to be that honest about Aang without realizing how awful he was.

[curlygrant44]

Mod:

Everything is coming up Curly lmao

Which is to say we have a sixth or maybe seventh, which is impressive because the only one to rival those numbers is Daisuke.

Not that anyone should be surprised that the sad crispy chicken wing and the precious cinnamon roll are the fan favs for writing.

I am, I will admit, slightly surprised by the comparative lack of Jimmys, but I can understand why that could be...daunting, to say the least. Inhabiting the head of someone like that is probably not fun for most people.

But we got three great Jimmys and I think I spotted a couple more newcomers, and there's finally a second Swansea!

We really are gonna need to make a centralized directory for everyone in the next couple days lol. I can toss something together on maybe like Tuesday if no one's gotten to it before then.

Ideally I'd like the directory to have notation of who's doing dark themes, including Toxic Yaoi (TM) so that folks who are just starting to get to know the group can opt out of that stuff if need be.

It would probably also be good to have some agreed-on tags for common themes for consistency's sake. That way it's easy to avoid or alternatively look for something specific. Some of us get real creative with our tags and that's not bad but it'd be nice to have some overarching ones for cohesion without straying too much into more normal tags and possibly clogging those again.

We could theoretically start organizing into more cohesive crews if folks wanted; I like the way we're kind of all in limbo for now, personally, like we all came from different places and just kinda ended up here in this liminal space that is the ship but isn't, and doesn't belong solely to any one crew. It gives a lot of flexibility so I don't actually think that needs to change.

If other folks feel differently, though, that's totally fine. I know that when we started a few days ago there was one crew in particular under captain-g-curly that was pretty cohesive...and then grew as we all joined up and got to add so many fun folks to our midst.

My suggestion is that in the coming days we run some polls and have some ooc discussions among folks who'd like to have a bit of organization for the back end so that as mods we can keep branching plotlines and blogs we interact with less often straight, mentally.

This could, theoretically, end up in a discord server. I don't know that I'd interact much but if that's what other people want, one can be made.

I know this might seem overly elaborate. It might seem too structured. Even stuffy.

...at which point I can only point you to this blog thus far and ask if you think that maybe I picked a workaholic middle-aged ship captain to roleplay because I am in fact the sort of person who finds stuffiness and structure and regulation to be relatable and comforting lmao.

The answer, needless to say, is yes.

Anyway, I'll get around to roping everyone into this conversation tomorrowish, but for now it's 2am and it feels like 4 still, and it's time to sleep.

[girl4music]

I find it hilarious how people that have watched the special and the TV show are complaining at how much they think Waverly’s characterization has changed.

Saying how she’s violent and reckless and they don’t remember Waverly being like that in the TV show and they’re just basically saying she’s OOC in the special because she gets into a bar fight drunk off her ass and threatens a girl with a jagged glass bottle to the face.

Excuse me but we are introduced to the character in the TV show with her booting down her bedroom door and threatening the “skank” that she believes is seducing her boyfriend with a shotgun and actually shooting it several times while saying “Why don’t you slip into something more comfy, huh? Like a coma” before realizing that it’s just her sister, Wynonna.

Waverly has always been violent and reckless.

She’s just been extremely adorable while doing it.

She’s even more like that later on in the show when she eventually exposes the dark angel within her.

She’s not out of character at all. She’s just less cutesy.

Well… in their eyes she’s less cute.

I find her very cute in the special.

She’s always been the “cinnamon roll” of the group.

But that didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t violent.

Waverly has always been violent. You see that in her from the very first moment that you actually see her because imagine if that girl that was seducing Champ wasn’t Wynonna and she just open-fired on a civilian.

You see her do shit like this all throughout the show. At what point is she not violent and not reckless?

Sure, she’s an angel. But she’s a destructive angel.

Are people serious with this OOC shit? Watch it again.

Because I certainly never saw a non-violent Waverly. It’s just that every time I did see it, it was very funny. And that bar fight in the special was also very funny.

Didn’t seem the slightest out of character to me at all.

If anything it was more like she hadn’t even grown up. Like she was intentionally being the Season 1 Waverly.

So she was more Waverly there than she should’ve been because you would think that she would have, by that point, matured out of that reckless childish state. But at the same time, she was always a child at heart. It’s one of the most endearing qualities about her to me because she represents innocence and resilience and both these themes give her that fighting spirit.

The character contradicts herself constantly because there’s more dimensions to her than the ‘cutesy one’.

She’s not out of character. You’re putting her in a box.

A box of which she instinctively and immediately challenges and breaks out of because she’s too dynamic to just be one thing at any one time.