#( he is more of a subtle kind of fighter ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anika-ann · 7 months ago

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Restless Hearts - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, next-to-zero plot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 6,2k

Summary: Moving in together with Steve is the dream come true – or it should have been. You didn't exactly have the chance to benefit from that since he shipped off to a mission for days and is only now coming back.

You grow restless. And to make it worse, you only get to reunite with him on this stupid pompous party instead of your home. Well. Just few more hours of socializing to survive.

You could handle that, right?

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, semi-public sex if you squint, unprotected sex, language, Steve being a menace, two idiots in love who can't keep their hands off of each other

A/N: written for the Smutty September Fest hosted by @mercurial-chuckles . Thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to f* and quickie where you don’t take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials 🤭

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Sparkling lights. Sparkling drinks. Elegant gowns and sharp suits. Subtle polite laughter and conversation occasionally interrupted by a louder exclamation and a genuine burst of laughter from the groups forming around those who knew how to charm a crowd. A non-descript music, one song bleeding into another, a few couples trying to find space on the dancefloor that had mostly changed into an agora, a space for conversation rather than for moving in well-practiced sync.

The dress skirt brushing over your knees and ankles, a slight chill on the back of your neck as someone opened the balcony doors, letting in fresh April air of New York City. The light stink of alcohol and sweat amongst the hundreds of expensive perfumes and colognes. The rich aftertaste of the sting of bubbles, sweet and spicy on your tongue.

The golden lights shone bright but intimate, reflecting in your champagne glass and prompting you to finish your first – and likely one of the lasts – drink of the night.

You weren’t much of a drinker. You indulged every once in a while, more of curiosity about what fancy brand the host had chosen for the occasion and a thing of courtesy, using the glass like a required social prop.

Such was the case tonight too – a fancy evening for investors and associates of the Earth’s mightiest heroes. Politicians, diplomats, government officials, high-ranking military officials and filthy-rich entrepreneurs – mostly not your crowd, to speak plainly. There was a slightly better company too, even if scarce: former agents and other colleagues – well-vetted beforehand, of course – scientists, non-profit representatives, veterans. Several Avengers too, of course.

But your favourite – the one who had brought you deeper into the world of superheroes – was yet to be found.

Steve Rogers most definitely was your favourite; nearly flawless moral compass, loyal, protective of the less fortunate ones and his own. A fighter who had won and lost all too much; an artist, who saw beauty around him nevertheless. A kind soul with an enormous heart, perhaps a tad too big for his own body despite his impressive physique. Larger than life and yet somehow humble enough in his insistence that he was just a man, ordinary, like most; just lucky enough to had been given a chance to fight and to defend.

And to love.

Steve Rogers certainly was your favourite, as he should be; the goodness of the world distilled into one man, with a face and a body of worth of being sculpted by the masters of ancient arts, the warmest smile and a sparkle to his eye a testimony to his brilliant mind and wicked humour. All that at your fingertips; all that supposedly yours, as incredible as it seemed at most times.

He was yours.

Your boyfriend of four months and seventeen days.

Not that you had been counting; perhaps just a little. You were innocent in the matter, however; it was mostly your and Steve’s friends, teasing you about taking things slow. According to Bucky, had you been taking things at Steve’s desired pace, with how smitten he apparently was, he would have already had a ring on your finger.

You didn’t dare to judge, afraid of raising your hopes a little too much; however, there was something to be said about Steve Rogers in love. He made it clear; so painfully and blissfully clear, letting you feel his much-reciprocated adoration in hundreds if not thousands of little moments.

In his touch. In his words. In his actions.

Your demanding jobs perhaps did slow down your progress a bit, making even the settling on a day of your first date quite the feat; but it was one of those good things that made the waiting worth it.

If Steve was smitten, so were you; and while a proposal would feel rather rash, you certainly not at all thinking about how you’d probably say yes anyway, because you simply knew, you’d settle for moving in together.

You had moved in together, thirteen days ago.

And the move in that had left you with half-unpacked boxes, cold bed and an apartment lacking the true aura of a home, because the person you wished to build it with was godknowswhere in a middle of Siberia, having left after a passionate welcome-to-our-new-home and a message delivered at three damn forty a.m.

Steve had left the pleasant warmth of your bed at four, with a profound sleepy apology and a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Left for an off-grid no-contact mission. Lasting for days.

For all the faith you had in his skill and strength, the worry that came with him being away for so long without as much of a short text was eating at you; and then there was the matter of simply missing him, the empty feeling only accentuated by having expected to be nearer to him at last and getting this instead. You were an independent woman and you could live your life without a man just fine, but goddamn were you also a woman madly in love, missing your boyfriend.

And you were growing impatient.

You were still at your first drink, yes, but knowing Steve should appear at any moment did not help calm your nerves, the slightly uncomfortable but exciting swirl of anticipation of seeing him again – in a suit no less – as intense as the yearning for comfort of actually seeing for yourself that he was safe and sound.

He had texted you, at last, about four hours ago, that he was on his way, nothing but a couple of bruises already healing, looking forward to seeing you.

You had agreed to meet at the venue; he would be running last minute, or perhaps even fashionably late, grabbing a quick shower and a shave at his at-hand quarters at the Tower, just throwing on a suit he kept there for such occasions. You had offered to help – for the completely selfish reason of seeing him sooner and in private instead of in front of hundreds of watchful curious eyes – but he had sweetly refused, argumenting that at least one of you should be on time and promising he would find you first thing upon his arrival.

You would have grumbled if you hadn’t been soothed by the Love you, can’t wait to hold you again, he had texted after. He was a charming loveable bastard like that.

As the infamous murmur of excitement arose around you, bringing you back to the present, your eyes easily found the source of the commotion: Steve Rogers himself.

Your heart rate accelerating reminded you that not being able to meet Steve before the event might have been a blessing. Had you had the chance to get your hands on him, you two would probably end up being very much unfashionably late; a welcome home kiss would have simply not sufficed.

He was breathtaking.

The traditional black suit with navy blue glint was fitted for certain; tight where it should be, accentuating Steve’s absurdly broad shoulders and thin waist, pants no doubt hugging all the right places from behind somehow complimenting his long muscular legs too, pristine white shirt with a bowtie matching the suit; the soft blue reflection emphasized the colour of his eyes as they scanned the room without ever stopping his progress, his polite smile spreading wide when his gaze found yours, the blue of his irises turning warmer; the most beautiful feature to his face battling the magnificence of his sharply cut jaw.

The instant relief washing over you screamed of how anxious you had actually been before you had seen him alive and well; the warmth spreading through your veins whispered of comfort, a tidal wave of feeling at home after a long travel; the heat curling in your belly and sending sparkles through every nerve ending reminded you that your body had been missing him in all different ways.

Your gaze zeroed on his every step. He seemed to move too slow and too fast at once; and suddenly he was standing in front of you, one hand gently grasping yours, the other lightly laying on your waist, a chaste kiss to your temple lingering as your body naturally sought his and carefully leaned into his entirely publicly appropriate greeting. The familiar woodsy notes of his cologne and aftershave had your heartbeat pick up and instinctively move closer into his embrace and breathing in deeply, the scent going straight to your head; but following his lead, you didn’t get too close, letting the gentle timbre of his voice soothe your need for connection instead.

At last; he was home. He was here, with you, and his love, while contained in socially acceptable gestures, seemed to draw a protective circle around your pair, shining brighter and warmer than the lights and all the luxuries around combined.

“Hey sweetheart. It’s so good to see you,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek this time, his eyes lit alive as he retreated, a hint of a smile still playing in the corner of his lips. “And you are absolutely stunning. Almost tripped over my feet the moment I set my eyes on you.”

Resisting the urge to tenderly slap his side at the exaggeration, at making your face burn hot – and something inside you purr with satisfaction since you had chosen your outfit with care, much like your makeup and hairdo – you gathered your composure, straightening your posture and charming a smile for him in return.

In one of many late-night conversations, when he had revealed his artistic side to you, he had admitted he loved to feast his eyes on all kinds of art from the most ordinary ones to the rarest; you had understood then that while a fighter and just a man in his core, his soul was a thing seeking beauty and goodness everywhere. In both things and people. A doodle could make him smile and hum in delight as much as a painting or a sculpture, he had said shyly; a building, an arrangement of flowers, a beautiful dress too. The last one, however, he had appreciated most on a woman as bewitching as yourself, he had told you, a tender finger on your jaw, a glint of dark mischief in his eye, lips slanting over yours and stealing your breath in a matter of a second; proving he was appreciative of you just as much when you were wearing nothing at all.

This time, however, you liked to believe he enjoyed the sight of you in the dress indeed; the top was hugging your curves like a second skin, the dark crimson fabric bled into a breeze-light skirt, shorter at the front, longer at the back, offering a less-than-scandalous but still teasing peek of your legs and clear view of your matching heels.

“It’s really good to see you too, love. And you look quite handsome yourself… I nearly dropped my drink upon seeing you,” you reciprocated with a small smirk, pointedly finishing your drink at last, heat flaring in your core when you caught Steve’s gaze lingering on your lips as they barely touched the edge of the glass, not leaving an imprint despite the dangerously red colour of your lipstick.

As you set your glass on the nearest table, you took a satisfactory note of Steve’s gaze flickering even lower, and bit back a smile.

As high as the neckline of your dress was, actually reaching half-up your throat and barely but chastely covering your shoulders, the oval-shaped cut stretching from between your collarbones down over your sternum was a rather intentional trap.

And your Captain had fallen right into it, his Adam’s apple bobbing before his gaze snapped back to your face, pupils wider, irises having gained just a tad darker shade. The fresh surge of confidence was almost as intense as the swoop of desire in your lower belly, sending your thoughts spiralling far away from a behaviour socially acceptable at an event like this.

It made you want to abandon the event and let it sort itself even if Steve had just barely arrived.

Who cared anyway? Steve deserved a proper rest after a taxing mission; rest and more, whatever his heart desired. And maybe not only his heart; if you were honest with yourself, you were only a hot-blooded human being like the rest of the world and were looking forward to truly greeting Steve home in all the ways imaginable.

You could control yourself in the public, of course, and you genuinely understood the importance of networking. But you should bring up simply taking Steve home for his own good; and you could profit from it all the same. From his proximity, from the privacy of your home, from getting your hands on the insanely handsome man’s body.

Whether he sensed the sparkles in the air you weren’t sure; but he leaned towards your face, his voice dripping slow and rich like honey from his lips brushing your ear, sinful despite the words being perfectly innocent.

“It works well then, honey.” He offered you his elbow, straightening his posture as if he was so damn proud to show off what kind of a woman he had on his arm. “Let’s go fulfil our duty of mingling so we can excuse ourselves as soon as possible.”

With his last words carrying alluring notes of an intimate promise, you conceded.

Nodding, you arranged your face in a polite smile, crafted to nonchalant perfection.

“Let’s go mingle indeed.”

Indeed, let’s work so we can sneak away and go home as soon as possible.

Your plan had gone a little awry.

In the glow of delight at Steve’s arrival, you had underestimated the number of people who found it their crucial mission to meet and greet and catch up with Captain America.

You had kept up the pleasant façade through all the conversations, nodding and chuckling politely when the situation called for it; but you were growing weary and you could feel tension gradually building in Steve’s shoulders as well, the way you remained connected by at least an inch of a touch at all times permitting you to observe the change.

You had thought it would help when you subtly nodded towards the dance floor; his smile turned much more genuine as he asked you for a dance, earning your pair a breather and a moment of shared intimacy for a few songs.

But you had been wrong in your strategy; if it were possible, Steve’s jaw appeared locked even tighter than before once your reprieve was deemed to last too long and you agreed to return to socializing. His touch grew into a hold; at moments, it was but a grip, until you felt him forcefully relax and ease the pressure.

You didn’t blame him one bit.

He must have been exhausted; away from home for so long, physically and mentally drained after an intense, albeit successful mission, forced to put on a mask for everyone else’s benefit, because Steve Rogers, to a point, was a poster boy. As much as he was trying to change that, working on allowing himself to show and accept his humanity, he remained the embodiment of a hero who never gave up and raised others on his own shoulders despite scratching the bottom of the barrel of his own energy.

He remained cordial and polite and a gentleman; he offered to get you a drink as you excused yourself to the bathroom, returning only to find him – visibly annoyed, for once – trapped in a conversation with Tony. A conversation which was probably not at all important, but apparently couldn’t wait, at least in Tony’s mind.

“Such a charming woman, standing here all by herself. How is that even possible?” questioned a voice from your left just as you pondered rescuing your boyfriend, causing you to waver.

It was a very male voice. An unfamiliar voice.

And had it been Clint or Sam or Bucky, you’d laugh at the poor line, which would no doubt be told with a drop of teasing; or in Thor’s case, entirely genuine and fitting to Asgardian but not Midgardian ways. Hearing it from a stranger, though, that made you want to roll your eyes.

You were a strong soldier of God so to speak, however; you turned to the source of the voice with a smile with just a slightly sharp edge – one the tall lanky man was oblivious to, as it turned out – and greeted him with a measured Sir.

As he introduced himself, you learned that Mr. Doctor Bowers PhD. might have had two PhDs but none of them was in taking a goddamn hint. Because now you were sort-of trapped much like Steve was, the written and unwritten rules of courtesy not permitting you to make up an excuse of needing to go to the bathroom after you had clearly just come back.

You counted seconds, pondering how soon you could leave the man behind without appearing too rude. You got to a hundred when your patience truly was wearing thin.

He was still not taking any of the hints you had dropped. Worse, even. You weren’t presumptuous enough – unlike some people in the mostly one-sided conversation – to imagine the flirting. He was clearly attempting to flirt and was failing miserably. He was shameless about it too, even if a little condescending.

Ninety-four seconds later, you had enough of him and far too little of Steve; your skin seemed to be already burning where Steve had last touched you, yearning for the contact to return in a perhaps clingy, but entirely honest way.

And suddenly, as if some miracle provided by Asgardian magic, the touch was back.

Steve’s arm was curling around your waist, his side pressing to your hip, his lips making a gentle – and strangely electric – contact with your hairline.

“I’m sorry about the hold-up, sweetheart. Who’s your… friend?”

It was a little funny, really. The man matched Steve in height, but at the biting note in Steve’s voice, he shrank at least a foot and a half.

He introduced himself after clearing his throat, maintaining the remnants of his composure which all of sudden carried no hint of the wannabe seducer. You wanted to kiss Steve right on the lips right there for that alone.

Mr. Doctor PhD also probably regretted extending his hand for Steve to shake; because at Steve’s grip, no doubt stronger than necessary despite his entirely nonchalant mask of politeness, he actually winced.

You were no supporter of violence, much like Steve, which might seem ironic to some given his profession – but the lick of heat at seeing Steve put the guy into back into his place sent a shudder of undiluted want down your spine and straight into your core, your posture involuntarily shifting in response. Steve’s hold on you tightened.

“I have to talk to my girlfriend now, if you excuse us. See you around,” Steve said, already spinning you towards the exit to drive his point to the end.

You didn’t resist.

If anything, you couldn’t walk fast enough, regretting wearing heels and wishing for a pair of sneakers instead to sneak away from the party altogether at last.

Only when Steve led you further and further away from people, deeper into the complex, your heart began thundering in your chest; you noticed that the tension in his muscles you had worried about had grew tenfold and realized that his announcement about needing to talk to you might be more than an excuse.

“Steve, are you alright?”

“Fine,” he responded flatly, yet in a voice carrying hundred times more warmth than just a moment ago.

Right. And the Sun is blue, the pigs can fly and tachyons had always been proven particles of matter.

You swallowed the snarky response, glancing at him as you barely kept up with his long strides; still, you could tell he was holding back, having seen him march with much more hurry and relentlessness.

“Thanks for the rescue, by the way. Really,” you pipped up, one corner of your lips rising despite your stomach turning tight at the unreadable expression on Steve’s face. “Guy simply couldn’t take the hint that I only have eyes for my Captain.”

An uncomprehensible grumbly noise vibrated in Steve’s chest, his arm sliding from your waist in favour of taking your hand in his instead.

Apparently, your attempt at cheering him up failed; you should have known.

The corridor was now completely devoid of people; you had arrived to the part of the floor with three small conference rooms, one an each of them dark and empty – because everyone was at the party.

Your smile turned truly nervous at that point, your mind racing as much as your heart. Steve wouldn’t have led you here unless he wanted to urgently talk about something important. You were a little baffled as to why hadn’t he opted for the elevator and his former quarters instead; but you didn’t question it as he placed his palm on the scanner and practically threw one of the doors open and all but pulled you in, some of the lights automatically flickering to life.

That was all that your ordinary human brain had time to register.

Because then Steve’s hand found firm purchase of your neck, cupping your jaw, lips slanted over yours with ferocity and passion that had your mind snap blank and set your body on fire, your hands limply landing on his firm chest.

Oh. O-okay.

More than okay.

You were forced to walk backwards, Steve’s other hand pressing against your hip to lead your step and steady you at once; an anchor you desperately needed in the whirlwind of puzzlement and madly stirred desire. Your lips parted in invitation just before your ass hit the conference table, an unvoluntary whimper escaping you when Steve’s body aligned with yours, every single part of him bare his lips tight and wound up, his hardness brushing against your thigh.

At the small sound so willingly consumed by his demanding kiss, he squeezed your hip harder, tongue exploring hundred-times explored with delight, air stolen from your lungs, your hands scrambling to grab his suit jacket to pull him even closer.

Who needed breathing anyway?

You didn’t. And you didn’t care how you got here either, be it desire fuelled by impatience or jealousy or the endless time apart, your choice of a dress or your lipstick which you knew Steve liked so much. You didn’t give a damn.

He was the spoilsport, releasing your lips and pressing his forehead against yours, his quick breaths fanning your face, hand from your neck sliding lower, an almost inhuman sound pushing through his teeth when his fingertips found the exposed skin on your breastbone, petting the soft spot adoringly.

You had not known until that moment how much you craved his touch precisely at that spot and how weak in the knees it could make you.

“Please say y-“

“Yes,” you gasped, instantly rewarded by his mouth on yours again with a muttered but hearty-

“God, I missed you-“

-dextrous fingers sliding under your skirts and hiking the fabric up as they travelled up your thigh, Steve’s pelvis rocking against yours, creating delicious friction against your core.

“I missed you too.”

Your hands went to roam over his freshly shaven jaw, over his shoulders, pushing the jacket off just to make him growl in frustration when he had to stop touching you for two full seconds to get rid of it.

“Sorry, want to feel you,” you apologized nonsensically, every single moment of his touch going straight to your head like a strong sweet wine, intoxicating and addictive, much like his scent, his taste, consuming all of your senses.

“Need to have you-”

“You have me,” you said breathily, a plea and a promise at once, thoroughly appreciated by a squeeze to your ass, fingertips wandering towards where you needed him the most--

And then Steve halted in his progress, body turning into a statue as he came in contact with bare skin, lips stilling on yours.

You gulped, trying to judge his reaction despite your haze.

You had had… a little incident when dressing up to the nines. Your broken nail nicked your thigh-high, sending a run up your calf. Uncharacteristically unprepared, you had found out if was your only pair. And sure. You could have run to a store. You could have express-ordered; stores would trip over their feet to deliver to Ms. Captain America in need. You could have worn a pantyhose.

And yet, your mind had steered you towards the drawer where you had kept tights specifically bought for a wholly different occasion than a social outing.

Why not? Your dress was long enough. And having hoped Steve’s mission would bring him home victorious and excited, having missed all of him terribly, you thought you might at least save some time once you two would be home.

Except you weren’t at home now. But that wasn’t on you – you were completely innocent in that matter.

Except you weren’t and your tights were conveniently sewn with a large enough opening to have Steve fit his hand or other parts of his body through, leaving but a flimsy lace panties in his way.

“Sweetheart?” he rasped, licking his lips as if to tempt you further, to confess your sins born of love and lust. He pulled back just an inch, to meet your gaze, his own pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of your beloved blue remained.

You gulped; not ashamed, not truly, perhaps a little apprehensive of his judgement. You had worn what was pretty much an erotic prop to a high-class event and had you not been careful and had had an accident, anyone seeing or god forbid snapping a picture…

“I… wanted to greet you home… and feel you as soon as possible,” you admitted silently, heart thundering in your chest, in your ears, in your temples, in your fingertips fisting the collar of Steve’s shirt.

A beat of silence.

Several wild beats of your heart.

“Christ, I love you-“

You were hoisted up on the edge of the table in a lightning speed and a mouth-watering display of strength, lips devoured by Steve’s with enough force to bend you backwards, the line of your soaked panties pushed aside to not waste time indeed as Steve’s fingertips dipped into your slick with a mutual groan of pleasure.

“Steve-“

“That’s right, honey,” he whispered, lips teasing the soft skin of your throat now, “I’m here now, all yours.”

He teased your lower lips back and forth, once, twice, three times too many and then he finally entered you with two fingers, a dark chuckle coming deep from his throat at the gasp of his name, stepping closer between your spread thighs to press your legs further apart.

He pumped his fingers with ease, driving you towards the stars at a dizzying speed, pressing a soothing kiss to your sternum when you cried out at him curling his fingers just right.

“That’s it, honey… sing for me. Just for me,” he pleaded, contradicting his plea by claiming your lips again and pushing deeper, faster, wicked,your whimpers swallowed greedily, all his, just like you were, on the brink of ecstasy.

You were trembling; in pleasure, in anticipation of absolute bliss, with Steve’s hand firmly pressed to your lower back to hold you close and annihilate you in the most exquisite way known to man. His words, his touch, the husky notes of his voice, the sheer need radiating off him and still making sure you were to steal the first round of fireworks just for yourself.

It exploded through your body without warning.

You broke with a cry of his name, lips freed just so he could hear the delicious sound, so beautifully seconded by his harsh breaths and so filthily accompanied by the wet sound of your pleasure you had no capacity to be ashamed of but revelled in instead.

You knew he did too. Because he had done that to you, for you. It was his and yours and both was a privilege; and lust incarnate, as he brought you down from your high gently as it be, his hand disappearing from your back in favour of undoing his fly and zipper.

Feel as soon as possible; no time to waste. Pants shoved down only as little as necessary, boxers following, a peek of a mouthwatering – and always a little intimidating – sight was all you got.

A small startled sound escaped you when you were being pulled further towards the edge of the table without a moment of reprieve, a chuckle bubbling in your throat at Steve’s impatience – but with no malice. God knew you understood; the moment the head nudged your entrance, coating him in your slick, your orgasmic bliss was long gone, replaced by even more acute need.

You wanted him. Now. All of him. Wanted to feel him deep inside you, wanted him to fill you so completely as only he ever could, devoured by him, desired and loved.

And you wanted to make him feel as delirious with pleasure as he had made you a moment ago, wanted to make his world so hot it turned white for a moment, make his knees buckle with the force of his release.

Your gaze met his, eyes feasting at the beautiful panting mess he already was, all pristine in his suit and bowtie and ready to ruin and be ruined, lips crimson and kiss-swollen and parting with a groan as he slowly pushed into you.

“Look at me, Steve. Want you to see what you do to me,” you whispered, the little broken sound pushing past his lips the only warning you got before he snapped his hips forward with a curse on his lips and sheeted himself fully inside you at once. God, so fully and suddenly that all air got knocked from your lungs.

His hand grasped your jaw, tender but firm, a dangerous glint in his eye, thumb running over your painted lower lip.

“Oh I’m looking, honey.” His gaze flickered down as he retreated almost all the way out, shining with your arousal, and thrusted deeply again, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “And there’s nothing prettier than you falling apart for me, so let. Me. See you.”

He accentuated every word with a sharp snap of his hips, stroking and stretching your walls over and over, setting a rhythm, teasingly slow and punishingly quick, hand and lips roaming, grabbing and caressing, kisses all teeth and all soft, grip on your hips keeping you still to assure he could take you exactly as he liked and encouraging you to roll your hips at your pace as you balanced on the edge of the table all the same.

“Missed you.”

“Love you.

“Need you.”

“So good for me.”

“I’m so damn lucky.”

“Please.”

“Look at me.”

“Give it me, honey.”

Your head was spinning as you were consumed by bliss, spiralling towards your peak so fast you couldn’t tell anymore which words were yours and which were his, where you ended and he began, clinging to each other as you were carried higher and higher, your ears ringing and still allowing you to hear the clinks of the belt buckle and the sinful sound of your rapid love-making; like a lightning running through yours very being, you shattered with a high-pitched whimper of Steve’s name, an echo of a hoarse voice stringing curses and praise barely reaching your conscience.

You panted against Steve’s shoulder as he curled around you, minuscule movements of hips to ride out both of your highs, soft words spilling from his lips as he was barely caching breath himself.

You took a minute, maybe two or five, still, clinging to him all the same, the heady scent of sex and sweat weighing down the air, your tongue heavy and throat parched, fingers carding through Steve’s damp hair softly.

And still, you chuckled breathlessly as Steve kept running his warm hand up and down your back, the sound causing him to press a kiss to your lips that tasted of apology for some reason.

“Well…”

“I’m sorry for pouncing on you, sweetheart,” he muttered, a genuine note of regret nearly lost in the pleasure carried over to his voice.

Your smiled must have looked exhausted, you thought; but blissed out.

Oh, your sweetheart of a boyfriend. As if you hadn’t just both enjoyed this tremendously. Surely, he didn’t really mean it, did he?

“I’m sorry for sort-of setting a trap then…” you followed suit, the words feeling simply wrong on your tongue. “Except I’m not.”

At that, Steve lifted his head, meeting your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire still.

“Me neither.”

You grinned, trying not to be acutely aware of his hardness still stretching you to your fullest.

Of course he wasn’t entirely satisfied. One round had barely even been enough.

“That’s what I thought. Good.”

He mirrored your expression, his grin a little boyish and devilish at once, his expression soft but somehow everything but innocent.

Yet, he caressed your face with his fingertips with tenderness, from your damp temple over your cheekbone to your jaw, gently pressing against your lips.

“I love you. And I missed you. So much. I swear I just wanted to go home – take you home, the moment I walked in,” he admitted, causing your smile to turn sympathetic.

You knew all about that; it was all you had been truly thinking about the whole evening.

“I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh…” you trailed off, sensations slowly returning to your body outside the all-consuming pleasure. You felt like you were burning; sweaty and fucked-out for the lack of a better term, most of your body tingling… You chuckled self-deprecatingly. “God, my legs shake so much… what did you do to me?”

Steve’s hands moved to your thighs as if he needed to feel it and steady the trembling, to help, teeth worrying over his lip, just a hint of guilt – and a whole lot more of something you didn’t dare to decode, because those were some dangerous waters.

You expected him to pull out and help you stand then, clean up; after all, he was a gentleman like that, always supporting you.

He did the former, tenderly so as not to hurt you; but not the latter. When he carefully left your body and you tried to stand, he halted your movements with tightening his hold on your thighs, his gaze roaming all over you as you glanced at him all with puzzlement.

“Steve?”

“Maybe you should lie down,” he suggested lowly, his gaze flickering from your still quaking legs to the opening of your dress on your chest and to your lips and then back.

You swallowed against your dry throat.

The dangerous waters you hadn’t dared to explore roared in the back of your head, a shudder of scalding heat running through your body.

He hadn’t cleaned up. He hadn’t tucked himself in. He was still… as always---he-

You licked your lips, your heart stumbling so hard in your chest it was almost painful.

Wordlessly but with his blown pupils observing you like a hawk, one of his hands moved to your shoulder, gently pushing, encouraging you to lie down on the desk indeed.

And who were you to protest? His gaze was once again pleading and challenging you.

Please, say yes.

Like a fallen angel coaxing you to sin; and you’d all but follow hm straight to hell, because you knew he’d show you heaven unparalleled.

The table was cold and unforgivingly hard against your back, but you didn’t care; all you cared about was Steve looking at you like that, like you were a goddess and a prize he had sworn to win, guiding your leg up to rest your ankle against his shoulder, his hot mouth pressing a kiss to your calf. His other hand pushed his pants and boxes down his legs this time, before he reached for your other leg and wrapped it around his waist, once again nudging your sensitive opening.

“Just one more, honey,” he coaxed you, as if you needed convincing, as if the tremble of your body hadn’t turned from blissful and exhausted to one of anticipation. “Just one more and then we’ll go home…”

He pressed another kiss to your calf and met your gaze as he slowly sank back in with ease, something devilish and painfully alluring flashing in his eyes as a shudder ran through your body, sensitive from your earlier activities.

“And when we’re there, I’ll take you once more… once for every day I would have made love to you, had I been in our home with you as I should have.”

In the haze of your mind, the math didn’t seem to math or even matter, even though you felt it should.

But for now, all you could focus on was Steve, finally with you, and soon coming to your shared home with you, at last.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

The event's masterlist

*chuckles* I’m in danger🥹

I hope Steve makes sure she’s hydrated and eats something in between🤭 And maybe gets some sleep; not all of us are supersoldiers 🥹

ANYWAY. Thank you for reading! Drop feedback if you're willing and may September bring you many smutty cozy evenings and peace 💕

#smutty september fest 2024 #indulge with chuckles #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x you #captain america fanfiction #captain america fanfic #restless hearts #anika ann #anika writes

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extinctlesspains · 1 month ago

Note

Hey! I am not sure if you have watched the new Cobra Kai episodes yet but if you haven’t then please don’t read my request until you can or have because I don’t want to spoil it.

Would you be willing to write a Yandere!Axel one shot with a Keene!Reader or a Diaz!Reader? Maybe Robby’s younger sister after he breaks Robby’s leg (Keene! Reader) or seeing how he treats Miguel (Diaz!Reader)??

If you don’t want to write it then please ignore/ delete my request!! Hope you have a great rest of your day.

A/n: Hi! I absolutely love this request I think it's so creative and I would love to make it... Here you go and hope you enjoy!! ♡

𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒.... 𝑅𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡? [𝐴. 𝐾𝑜𝑣𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑐]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ! ᴀxᴇʟ ᴋᴏᴠᴀᴄᴇᴠɪᴄ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴅᴀʀᴋ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ!

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀxᴇʟ ᴄᴏɴғᴜsᴇs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴋɪɴᴅɴᴇss ғᴏʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴊᴇᴄᴛ ʜɪᴍ, ʜᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪs ʀᴀɢᴇ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ, ʀᴏʙʙʏ, ʙʏ ʙʀᴜᴛᴀʟʟʏ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʜɪs ʟᴇɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴᴀʟ ᴍᴀᴛᴄʜ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴғʀᴏɴᴛ ʜɪᴍ, ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟs ʜɪs ᴏʙsᴇssɪᴠᴇ ᴅᴇʟᴜsɪᴏɴ—ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ—ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ɪᴛ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Axel never thought much about you—at first. You were just another fighter’s sibling, another face in the crowd. But then, you smiled at him. Not out of fear or admiration—just casual, friendly kindness.

It was nothing to you.

But to Axel?

It was everything.

That one smile planted a seed in his mind, something that grew every time you looked his way, every time your voice carried across the dojo, every time you asked, Hey, Axel, you good? after a match.

You noticed him.

You cared about him.

And in his mind, that meant one thing—you were his.

You just didn’t know it yet.

At first, Axel kept his distance. Just observing. Watching the way you laughed with the others, how you always checked in after a brutal sparring session. Unlike everyone else, you didn’t look at him with fear or wariness—you just treated him like a person.

Then he started seeking you out.

"Didn’t think you cared about my fights," he teased one afternoon, leaning against the wall as you wrapped up a conversation with Sam.

You gave him a playful look. "Why wouldn’t I? You’re good, Axel. I mean, kinda scary in the ring, but still good."

Scary?

No, no—he wasn’t scary. He was strong. And you liked strong, didn’t you?

He smirked, tilting his head. "If you think I’m scary, why do you keep talking to me?"

You laughed. "Because I know you’re not just some ruthless fighter like everyone says. You’re more than that."

Those words replayed in his head for days.

You saw him.

You understood him.

That had to mean something.

So he made sure you spent more time together. Slipping into your conversations, walking you to your car after practice, stepping between you and anyone who got too close. It was subtle, at first. Just making sure people knew you weren’t available—not to them, at least.

But then, something changed.

He should have known something was wrong when you started pulling away. It was in the little things—how you hesitated before responding to him, how your laughs didn’t come as easily, how your body tensed whenever he got too close.

And then, he overheard you talking to Sam.

“I think he likes me,” you admitted, voice low with uncertainty. “But… I don’t. Not like that.”

Silence.

His world stopped.

Not like that?

Not like that?!

Axel’s fingers twitched as he clenched his fists, trying to understand. You were lying. That had to be it. Maybe Sam had gotten in your head, or maybe Robby had poisoned your view of him. But it didn’t matter—he would fix this. You loved him, you had to!

You just needed to see things clearly.

You needed to see that you belonged to him.

And if words wouldn’t convince you…

Maybe actions would. And he did exactly that... But, to make it hurt, it had to be someone who you loved.

Axel fought like a man possessed. Every match, every opponent—none of it mattered. Not until he was standing in the final round, staring across the mat at the one obstacle between him and you.

Robby Keene.

Your brother.

It was perfect.

It was someone you loved, and he poisoned your sweet, sweet, soul... He was in the way of your love.

Axel could feel your eyes on him, could picture your worried expression, the way you probably pleaded in your mind for him to fight fair. But why should he? Why should Robby get to be fine when Axel was being torn apart inside?

If he couldn’t take it out on you, then Robby would suffer instead.

The match started, and Axel wasted no time. His strikes were brutal, calculated, each one forcing Robby onto the defensive. Robby was strong, but Axel was relentless.

A kick to the ribs. A strike to the jaw. And then—

A vicious sweep, followed by a perfectly timed sidekick.

CRACK.

Robby’s leg bent at an unnatural angle as he hit the mat with a strangled yell.

The crowd gasped. The referee blew the whistle. And you—

You screamed.

"Robby!!"

Axel stood over Robby’s writhing form, breath coming fast, heart pounding—not from exertion, but from victory.

He turned, searching for you.

And when he met your gaze—wide, horrified, betrayed—he finally felt something.

Satisfaction.

But it wasn't enough.

You found him after the match, pushing past the crowd with fury burning in your eyes.

"Axel!" Your voice was sharp, cutting through the noise like a blade.

He turned slowly, his smirk already in place. "Hey, princess."

"Don’t you dare," you snapped, shoving him hard in the chest. He barely moved. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

His smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew. "That’s a lot of yelling for someone who should be thanking me."

Your face twisted in disgust. "You broke his leg, Axel! That wasn’t an accident!"

"And?" He tilted his head, watching as your hands curled into fists. "You rejected me."

You sucked in a sharp breath. "What?" How could he have possibly known that you didn't return his feelings?

Axel stepped closer, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You think I didn’t notice? The way you started avoiding me? The way you laughed with other guys but not me? You led me on, and then you threw me away like I was nothing."

Your voice shook. "Axel, I was just being friendly. That’s not the same as—"

"Yes, it is," he cut you off, voice dropping to something dangerously low. "You smiled at me. You cared about me. You don’t get to take that back." You gulped nervously.

Your breath hitched. For the first time, real fear flickered in your eyes.

Good.

Maybe now you’d finally understand.

Axel reached out suddenly, grabbing your wrist. You gasped, trying to yank away, but his grip tightened—gentle enough not to hurt, but firm enough to keep you in place.

"You belong to me, Y/N," he murmured, gaze locking onto yours. "No one else. Not your brother. Not anyone. Me." Panic arose inside of you. The location didn't do you any good either—it was an isolated hallway towards the back of the venue.

You shook your head, eyes shining with something dangerously close to tears. "Let me go, Axel." You could feel tears threatening to leave.

He smiled.

But it wasn’t right.

It wasn’t normal.

It was twisted, wrong, filled with something dark and possessive.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he whispered, thumb brushing against your pulse. It was racing. "I did this for you. For us."

Breaking your brothers leg... For you?

Your stomach twisted. "There is no us, Axel."

His expression flickered—just for a second. A crack in the mask.

Then, slowly, his smile returned.

"Not yet."

And with that, he let you go.

You stumbled back, heart hammering, hands shaking. You should have run. Should have screamed. Should have done something.

But all you could do was stare at the boy who had shattered your world with a twisted kind of devotion.

And the worst part?

You knew this wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

He stepped forward, his hand brushing against you cheek as he leaned in to leave a soft kiss.

"Bye bye, love.." He whispered before stepping into the dark hallway.

#cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #karate kid #karatekidxreader #robby keene #axel kovacevic x reader #axel cobra kai #axel kovacevic #axel #yandere cobra kai #yandere #yandere cobra kai x reader #yandere community #yandere axel kovacevic #yandere axel kovacevic x reader #ckxreader #ck

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goatgoesmbe · 22 days ago

Note

THANK YOU!!

Hi, it's simons petty gf anon.

Just a thought, because she's only passive aggressive with her anger but always in a kind way simon is worried that if a physical altercation would happen that she would freeze up. But in reality, she's the dirtiest fighter he's ever seen. (Both of my parents were cops, military grandfather, youngest of 3 only girl) she has no honor in her fighting style, when asked about it, she says there's no honor in a fight. Only life or death.

Alright, ive been wanting to write this properly- but its been sitting in my draft for too long i just need to get it out so- no beta, I hope u still like it tho <3 u_u

All i could think about when i read this is the meme 'call the ambulance, but not for me'

short continuation of this

tw : assault, mention of violence, mention of blood, stalking

You were Simon's sweet little bird. Known to always be kind to everyone, even to the worst assholes, even to people who didn't like you.

And while you appeared to be nice and patient, with a smile that never faltered no matter what you've gone through, he eventually learned that you were not a pushover despite what everyone thought.

You could stand your own ground, you had your own way of dealing with people who disrespected you.

However, that didn't mean Simon would be less protective of you

Because the world wasn't a safe place, there were things far worse than a little quarrel with strangers, arguments with your mother, an altercation after accidentally bumping into a stranger, or verbal harassment.

He was thinking about real danger.

You were always so soft and gentle, so naturally, it triggered his instinct to protect you from any harm.

That was why he was the way he is right now, heavy boot putting it's full weight on the gas, the sound of the engine rumbled loudly, cutting through the night. Hands gripping on the steering wheels while his eyes were sharp, focused. While his ears fell deaf to the blaring of the other cars honking as he sped past them.

"Simon. Can you send help? I think i'm being followed.. can't really talk or call 911 myself rn" Your text read.

He was lounging at the couch when his phone buzzed. Content on watching the football game that was playing on TV, only to drop everything when he saw your message.

You were having a girl's night out with your besties at this women-only club that had just opened in the city. While he was one protective bastard who always wanted to watch over you, you insisted on him staying home because you wanted to spend the night with just your friends. It was reasonable, so he agreed.

But now? he regretted agreeing to that.

Tires screeched against the asphalt, making a sharp, piercing sound that sliced through the air followed by a loud slam of the door as he stepped out of his car.

With his gaze blurry from dread, he looked at the screen of his phone. He had a tracker planted in your devices, smart watch, laptop, phone. And so he followed the red dot shown in the map, finding himself standing in front of a dark alley.

"Simon" He couldn't be more relieved when he heard your voice and immediately took a few steps into the darkness, turning on the flashlight on his phone before aiming it forward.

The air was thick with the lingering scent of sweat, iron, and damp asphalt, mingling with the distant stench of rotting garbage. A dented trash can lay on its side, its contents spilled and trampled, a mess of torn paper and shattered glass glinting under the weak light. Blood stained the ground in dark, irregular splotches, soaking into the filth of the alley floor. The brick walls bore fresh smears where hands had braced against them, the rough texture now streaked with sweat and something darker.

And at the bottom of said walls, a lone figure was sat. Beaten and stripped off his shirt which was now ripped and used to tie his arms behind his back. Said figure didn't react at his presence, but Simon could see the subtle raise and fall of the person's chest.

"Simon" You called out to him again, snapping him out of his thoughts as he shifted his gaze to you.

You stood there with a smile that he always saw on your face, which was now sported with a fresh bruise, purple blooming beneath your skin. A dark welt shadowed your cheekbone, and a small cut on your lip still glistened with fresh blood. A smear of crimson streaked your jaw—and he didn't know if it was yours or someone else’s.

Your clothes were a mess, your skin tight dress were wrinkled, clinging to your curves like they had been grabbed one too many times. The faint imprint of a handprint marred the fabric near your collar, evidence of the struggle that had just unfolded.

And knuckles were raw, the skin split in places, thin trails of blood tracing along your fingers. Which told him what he needed to know.

Because despite your battered appearance, it was nothing compared to the state of the git who was leaning against the wall.

"Called the ambulance yet?" You asked, gesturing at your victim with your chin.

He didn't know if he could fall in love with you even more, but somehow, he just did.

#call of duty x reader #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #mbe write #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mbe's ghost

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allfearstofallto · 2 months ago

Note

if you’re still doing the yandere alphabet, could you do E,L,P,T,X, and Y for childe? no worries if not, I love ur writing! <3

I've definitely been wanting to write more of these!! Thank you so much!!!

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: Yandere, obsession, mentions of stalking

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Childe is open. More open than you'd want him to be and more open than you're willing to hear. You tend to not care about his back story or his interests, but he'll tell you regardless and you're forced to listen.

But if you do listen, really listen, really take in what he says, maybe you'll be able to see how much information he omits. Stories he laughs off like they're funny, are traumatizing in nature. The things he says are horrifying, scary in a way that would change a person permanently.

He assures you that no such thing has happened with a playful smile, but you see the subtle twitch of his eyebrow and quiver of his lip. He's truthful, but not completely honest.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Childe is one of the few yanderes who's approach will be different based on where his standing is with you.

Know him as that one guy you met on the streets of Liyue, the one who was rather charming, but also rather persistent about seeing you again and he'll court you proper. The whole nine yards. He'll be the ideal boyfriend, albeit with a few quirks that can be brushed off. Mostly his fierce, protective jealousy and strangely short temper.

Know him as the fatui harbinger? He'll also be just that. It's even worse if you owe money to the northland bank, a debt that he insists that you pay back with your affection rather than money. He won't even attempt to hide his true nature. You already know who he is and what he's capable of. Rather, he'll try to force you to fall in love with the real him, by any means necessary.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Patient as a fighter, patient at heart. Childe isn't inherently cruel. At least to you he's not. He'll give you time, space, conversation, whatever he thinks you may need to make you more comfortable. But that isn't him being generous. His patience comes with the expectation that you'll eventually fall into the role expected of you.

Refuse or even worse, actively fight him after all the kindness he's given you and you won't see that tolerance anymore. Expectations are higher with harsher consequences if not done when he wants, exactly how he wants.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Oh, does he hate that crying face of yours. He can't stand to see you sad, let alone actually sobbing. Each tear rolling down your cheek is like a stab to his heart, he can hardly bear the agony.

He's quick to console you when you cry, especially when he's the one who caused it. Although he can't help, but notice you tend to cry harder when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. Even though he hates your tears, he hates the disdain you have for him more.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Worship is a strong word. Childe loves you. Adores you. He does put you on a bit of a pedestal, believing you to be better than most people. But worship? Worship is a bit much.

Childe doesn't feel like he has to win you over. The depraved side of him believes he already owns you. Of course, you also own him as well, if you so desire. But because of that, his actions has him seeing you as almost an equal. Almost. There are still times where he loses himself in the desperation and desire to have you completely.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Like a fish needs water, like a man needs air, Childe yearns for you in a way that's animalistic in nature. Childe knows about you long before you know about him.

“Snapping” is a term that can't entirely be used for him because of this. You can't really lose it if it was never really there. The second he saw you, the second he felt the way he did, the way you made his heart pound the same way it would if he were to be thrust into the throes of a fierce battle, he's already plotting how he plans to take you.

#mai<3 answers #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin #yandere x you #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere childe x you #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #tw yandere

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partoffantasy · 1 month ago

Text

Self Control - Bodhi Durran

⸻ image credits to OC & scribe.jesinia⸻

summary: reader relentlessly tests Bodhi’s self-control, teasing him with subtle touches and close encounters, determined to make him break.

pairing: bodhi durran x fem!reader warnings: teasing word count: 1.0k

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

The first time Y/N tested Bodhi’s patience, she barely got a reaction.

It was during a late-night lesson, the war table illuminated by dim lantern light. Everyone was exhausted, but Bodhi, as usual, leaned back in his chair with that insufferable smirk, looking like he had all the time in the world. Y/N, seated next to him, let her fingers drift just slightly over his forearm as she reached for a map. Just a subtle touch. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips, but he didn’t even blink. He just turned the page of his notes, completely unbothered, as if he hadn’t noticed at all. Frustratingly unshaken.

The second time, he gave her a warning look.

It was during sparring. He was always fluid, always controlled, the kind of fighter who made everything look effortless. Y/N, who wanted a reaction, stepped too close when they reset, brushing against him as she adjusted her stance. Then, just as he went for his strike, she ducked last second—knowing full well it would force him to grab her, his hand gripping her waist to stop her from toppling over.

This time, he hesitated. Just for a second. His fingers flexed against her side before he released her, stepping back. His head tilted, his gaze sharpening on her like he was finally paying attention. “Careful,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. There was a warning in that single word, but it only made her grin.

The third time, she saw something flicker behind his usually easygoing expression—something dark and dangerous.

It happened at dinner, in the chaos of the dining hall. Y/N took the seat beside him, sliding in close enough that their thighs pressed together. She leaned in, her breath fanning over his ear as she whispered, “Pass me the bread please?” His hand clenched around his fork before he exhaled slowly, jaw tightening. He didn’t speak and didn’t immediately react. But when he turned his head to look at her, his easy grin was nowhere to be found. His fingers tapped against the table once—slow, deliberate.

Then, just as quickly, the moment was gone. He passed the bread like nothing had happened, returning to his usual unbothered self. Y/N had pushed him. And she had a feeling she wasn’t done yet. It started as a game. Y/N wasn’t sure when exactly she decided Bodhi Durran needed to be pushed, but once she started, she couldn’t stop. He was always so calm, so controlled, the kind of man who could watch the world burn and still have the audacity to smirk about it.

She wanted to know what it would take to make him break. So she touched him more than necessary during sparring sessions. Leaned in a little too close when they strategized. Let her fingers trail along the edge of his uniform when she adjusted his collar under the guise of helping. And he let her. That was the worst part.

Bodhi took every little tease in stride. He’d arch a brow, give a lazy smirk, and let her think she was winning. He’d murmur things like Careful, Y/N, in that low, smooth voice of his, always making it sound like he was humoring her. But she saw it. The way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. The way his hands curled into fists at his sides. The way his throat bobbed when she licked her lips in front of him. She was getting to him. And tonight, she intended to push him over the edge.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

“You’re distracted, Bodhi.” Y/N ducked under his swing, trying to aim a punch at his ribs. He sidestepped easily, catching her wrist mid-air and twisting, sending her stumbling into his chest. His grip was firm, warm, his breath ghosting over her ear as he leaned in. “You sure about that?” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. Y/N tilted her chin up, their faces inches apart. “Positive.”

She flexed her fingers against his grip, testing the strength holding her in place. He didn’t let go. If anything, he held her tighter. His thumb brushed over her pulse point, and her breath hitched before she could stop it. “You should be careful with that,” he said, voice still easygoing but carrying an undertone she wasn’t used to. A warning, maybe, or a promise. “You might not like what happens when I stop holding back.”

Oh, but she would. She pushed up onto her toes, her lips nearly grazing his jaw. “Maybe I’m counting on it.” For a heartbeat, he was still. Then, everything shifted. One second, she was in control, and the next, she was against the wall, wrists pinned above her head, Bodhi pressed against her so thoroughly she could feel every inch of him. His body was all heat, strength, and tension.

His eyes, usually warm and amused, were dark. His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke. “You think you know what you’re doing, don’t you?” Y/N swallowed hard, her own pulse hammering. “I—” He leaned in, so close his lips almost brushed hers, but not quite. “You like pushing me. Testing me. Thinking you’re the one in control.” His grip on her wrists tightened just slightly, enough to send a shiver down her spine. “But you forget, I let you.”

Her breath caught. Because he was right. Bodhi exhaled slowly, gaze trailing over her face, taking in every unspoken thought, every silent plea she refused to voice. Then, just when she thought he might finally break, he let go. He stepped back, putting just enough space between them to make her ache for more. His smirk returned, slow and knowing, but there was something lethal behind it now.

“You wanted to play, Y/N,” he murmured, dragging his fingers down her arm in a way that sent a shiver through her. “But games have consequences.” Then, he leaned in one last time, lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, “And you’re going to learn that the hard way.” And just like that, he was gone, leaving her standing there, breathless and burning, with nothing but the ghost of his touch and the promise of what was coming next.

#fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing fanfic #iron flame #onyx storm #xaden riorson #bodhi durran #bodhi durran imagine #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi durran one shot

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lets-try-some-writing · 4 months ago

Note

I hope you don't mind, this isn't about Unicron and Earth but while you have inspiration I would like to take you up on that TFA prompts thing.

The Warframes prompt was most interesting to me. I like to believe that each of the younger members of Team Prime have some kind of Warframe coding;

Optimus is taller than the average Autobot Civilframe and stronger than he looks, he pulls his punches but still manages to be the best fighter the Academy has seen in eons. He has retractable claws, blunt and a little rusty from neglect. He also has quite the set of wild chompers, long, broad, semi-retractable fangs that can flex in his mouth like mandibles (think Chinese water deer), a set of broad tusks that poke out from his bottom lip, and the rest are all slightly sharper than average. He keeps his jaw transfigured to hide them away, making them appear more like just slightly more pronounced canines. This tends to cause aches and pains in his hands and jaw like arthritis and teething problems.

Prowl knows full well he's a Warframe. Those blue-tinted shades? If you look close enough, you might find purple eyes behind them, which of course are actually red. It's why he dodged the draft. Sure, he didn't wanna get caught up in the war, but he Definitely didn't wanna be found out as a Warframe and get decommissioned. It's part of why he's so reserved, Master Yoketron risked and lost his chassis protecting his secret.

Bulkhead is a Civilframe, but his spark says otherwise. He's massive compared to other Autobots, even taller ones like Optimus. His bulky frame, tendency to break things - even accidentally - and his occasionally short temper are compensation for his spark trying to manifest a proper frame transfiguration, but the protoform mold he was made from won't allow it. He sometimes has spark pains and aches from the strain.

And poor little Bumblebee. Also a "civilframe", but he didn't always look like that. He originally had door wings and antennae, but such features can be seen as "other" and "Warframe-like" to Autobots - after all, there are no Autobots who have wings, let alone fly. That's a Decepticon Trait - and he was often picked on for it. He eventually went and got a reformatting, but even then, it didn't stop the back-strut phantom pains from the lack of his door wings or the occasional migraines from the severed nubs of his old antennae beneath his horns.

And Ratchet? He's a Civilframe, through and through, emerged as one from the Well and would return to the Well in the same condition. But even then, while he doesn't have the weapons, coding, or spark of a Warframe, he sure as pit feels like one after the war. The longer he stayed with the Autobots, the more jaded and numb he became towards them. He watched as the once great faction he believed in fell to the same trappings as the Golden Age of Cybertron. This day and age? He could confidently say he's met Decepticons with more honor than most of the Autobots he knows. The Autobots were now more of a slightly more conniving and subtle lesser of two violent evils.

I want to see Ratchet coaxing the Warframe traits out of his - sparklings, younglings - team. He assures Prowl he won't tell a spark about his Warframe heritage, doctor-patient confidentiality, but he does insist that Prowl tells the others. He helps Bulkhead with his spark problems for the short term but knows he's going to have to get reformatted eventually into a proper frame for his spark or he might end up back in the Well of Allsparks earlier than he should. Bumblebee gets incredibly damaged during a fight that prompts Sari to use her key to save his life, which ultimately brings back his wings and antennae. He braces for jeering remarks and disgusted looks but instead finds comfort and care from his teammates in his recovery and learning to be himself again. (Bumblebee usually hangs out around Optimus more since, with his finials and Bee's antennae, they communicate much more easily this way.)

And when Ratchet finds out about Optimus' neglect of his claws and the strain he's putting on his jaw from keeping his fangs and tusks hidden away? Hoo boy. He practically forces Optimus to sit down with him and clean his claws of the rust and debris and sharpen them a bit for maintenance, he coaxes him into releasing his transformed jaw, letting it rest (unclench your jaw), and sets a strict maintenance regimen so it doesn't happen again. With the release of his fangs and claws and finally starting to relax, Optimus starts acting a little more... feral. Figuring something was wrong they looked into his coding to find active base coding. The others are concerned that his repression of his fangs and claws reactivated it or he had a bad sparkling-hood, but Ratchet reassures them that while those were valid concerns, bots with Warframe coding can sometimes have active base coding since their primary function was for war and needed the extra edge in battle, merely a holdover from his Warframe heritage. (Though he does start scouring the Autobot's files on Optimus just to be sure everything is ok back home.)

This brings the team closer together with these common traits. Optimus can relax more around his team-pack-family, and often engages in "sparring" (which is more often than not like play-fighting) expressing more of his feral traits - which Bumblebee has come to mimic. Prowl tells the others about his heritage as a Warframe and acts as the silent protector for the others (especially Bumblebee, though he would never admit it). They all have weekly "spa-sessions" for Bulkhead so he can relax and calm his spark, Prowl offers messages. And Bumblebee feels more at ease with the crew, outwardly expressing his emotions through his EM field and his wings and antennae, Optimus in particular responds to him more with his finials. He even let's out little mechanical buzzing-chittering noises that Sari points out are a lot like an organic bumblebee. All in all, they're all so much more happy and healthy, and Ratchet can't help but pat himself of the back.

Autobot High Command be damned, if they question why Ratchet allowed the other's undesirable coding to fester instead of eliminating it, he'll say he was doing his job as a Medic and looking out for the health of his team. And if Ultra Magnus himself has a problem with it, he can shove his Magnus Hammer right up his--!

(Anyway, if TFP Ultra Magnus and TFA Ultra Magnus met, it'd be On Sight. For TFA Magnus. TFP Magnus will not tolerate any slander of his Leader no matter what form he takes or universe he's from. I have a feeling that TFA OP would be adopted by the entirety of TFP Team Prime, and they would probably have to be held back from hunting down Ultra Magnus and Sentinel. TFA OP would probably put his foot down for Sentinel (old habits die hard, and despite being a dick, Optimus doesn't want Sentinel dead) but Ultra Magnus is free game. He did say he didn't have the programming to be a hero after all, why should he play hero and save his sorry aft now?)

Dude this is all brilliant. I don't think I can use ALL of it at once but I am going to roll with this prompt now thank you. Consider this a chapter 1 of sorts I suppose. Warframes au is in action!

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Two hundred... two hundred and eighty five... three hundred. All accounted for. Starscream had to do a few double takes with the frameless newsparks to ensure that their containers didn't hold more than one, a startlingly common occurrence with a few due to some less than optimally educated creators packing their bitlets up for transport incorrectly. Thankfully, all the frameless newsparks seemed to be in order. Their containers lined the walls and were perfectly locked in, with no room for possible breakage or loss of life. Some flared in greeting as he extended his field to encompass their containers. A particularly bright set of sparks flashed as Starscream neared, both already being familiar with his presence due to him having tended to them most often during the evacuation phase.

The leftmost was abnormally large for being but a spark, a fact Strika and her consort continually reveled in without end. The rightmost, by comparison, was small but powerful. As was to be expected by all that remained of Tarantulas. Both were so bright, not yet dulled by war. All Starscream could do was pause and touch the glass of their containers. Tarantulas had been so proud of his creation before he fell at Hydrax... At least the newspark would be taken care of far away from the war. Maybe when they were grown, they could connect to their creator through history.

Soon enough, Starscream sighed and turned away. His gaze shifted to the older ones, the newsparks who had long since graduated and advanced to the status of newbuilds, and in some cases, younglings. Most of them were strapped into their pods, ready to be put into stasis lock throughout the journey. The younger ones clutched trinkets from their creators, toys, charms, sometimes even a weapon or two. Only the oldest remained out of pods, standing firmly with pistols on their hips. They were the hopefully unneeded last line of defense, each youngling barely trained enough to qualify as guards and still far too small to be reasonably expected to perform.

The younglings tried to look stoic, going from newbuild to newbuild in order to calm their nervous sparks. But in their optics, Starscream saw fear. Terror for what was to come, of the separation that loomed ahead of them. He couldn't show it, but he dreaded it as well.

"Sir, when will we see our creators again?" One of the younglings, a gold and black model with bright red optics, stared up at him cautiously. The youngling clutched his pistol tightly, his terror poorly concealed. As much as Starscream wanted to reassure the youngling that all would be well, he couldn't make such promises, not with war raging around them and growing closer and closer to their borders. Instead, he dropped to a knee and tried to smile.

"Once Lord Megatron drives back the nasty Autobots, you and the rest will be brought back to New Kaon with all the speed the Decepticon Armada can muster." The youngling managed a weak half smile in return, holding his pistol a little looser. Starscream patted him on the helm, hoping that the action would comfort them both.

"Why don't you tell me your designation? That way, if I see your creators, I can give them a message for you." That seemed to cause the little one to perk up. The youngling smiled brightly, releasing his pistol entirely to grin.

"My creator is Barricade! He named me Prowl! If you see him, please tell him I'm going to become a spy just like him! And when I do, I'll come find him!" Starscream fought the urge to wince as he nodded and sent the youngling off. Prowl didn't need to know that the likelihood of reuniting with his creator was next to none if his line of work was as Megatron's optics and audials.

It was better this way. Better than the young live and old die in their defense.

Standing and turning his attention to the rest of the newsparks, he noted the youngest ones were safely held in their incubators along the walls, their small protoforms barely more than simple living metal. Making his way to their section of the transport, he took his time walking along to view each incubator. The newsparks within were of various sizes, a nod to their creators unique CNA. Few had color, still mostly protoform white. However, there were a handful that were already showing signs of their heritage, a fact Starscream smiled at. Thankfully, the newsparks weren't distressed. Most were deep in recharge, already preparing for stasis lock due to their young age.

It was a small mercy.

"There you are, Orion." A hint of mixed relief and grief settled in Starscream's spark as he pressed up close to the glass of one particular incubator. The newspark within squirmed upon seeing him, optics bright and flashing in his creation's version of a smile. Already Orion looked so much like Skyfire that it hurt. Red, blue, and white plating. Optics blazing a stunning crystalline hue like a cloudless sky. If one didn't know any better, it would be hard to call Orion a relative, much less his direct heir. But, the signs were still there. Small clawed digits, wing nubs that looked more suitable for speed than the heavy transport abilities of his other creator. Despite that, he was likely to look most like Skyfire, a fact Starscream cherished.

"You be good for your fosters. Don't bite them and don't give them too much snark, alright, starlight?" Orion cooed in response, his little vocalizer hardly formed enough to produce even basic sounds. Starscream knew it would be breaking code, but he was unable to fight the desire to hold his creation one last time before their separation. Hoping and praying no one was looking, he scooped Orion into his arms, letting the newspark rest firmly against his chassis to hear his spark once more. Instantly, Orion cuddled up against him, his small face pinched in the same way Skyfire always did when they cuddled.

"You are so soft sparked, Orion. But I see a warrior in you..." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the newspark's helm, enjoying the babble he got in return despite how much it ached. He'd already lost Skyfire. And now he was going to lose Orion as well... if only for a time.

"No matter what happens, remember that you are a seeker of Vos. Keep your honor. Fight for our people. And when this is all over, when we've won this war... you will inherit our ancestral home." He rocked Orion in his arms, fighting back the urge to run with Orion and never come back as grief assaulted him once more. It was too soon. Far too soon since Skyfire... but he couldn't risk it. None of them could.

The little ones had to be sent away.

"Once the Decepticons have retaken Cybertron, seekers will again rule the skies. And you, my hunter, will lead them." Orion chirped, curling up tightly against Starscream's chassis. A few alarms rang out around him, alerting Starscream to the fact that their time was almost up. He didn't want to leave, to let go of this and all he had. But what choice did he have? He couldn't risk Orion.

"Starscream, are the newsparks secure?" A harsh comm from Megatron finally snapped Starscream from his stupor. He laid Orion back in his incubator, steeling his spark as much as he could as the newspark stretched and curled up to recharge. Looking around once more, he gathered the strength to reply.

"Yes, my Lord. They are ready for launch." An affirmation greeted his response, to which Starscream swiftly took the chance to leave the shuttle before the urge to snatch Orion up became too strong. This was for the best.

This was for the best.

Right?

He tried his best to convince himself that his little mantra was right as he went about his work. But as deca-cycles ticked by, Starscream felt unease and even fear from his creation. It was to be expected considering their parting, but this was... strange. Orion was terrified far too often for his liking. His very spark told him something was wrong.

Unfortunately for him, his instincts were correct.

"My Lords... the Vengeful Spark has been captured by Autobot forces. By the time reinforcements arrived... all the newsparks were confirmed to be gone."

No. This couldn't be happening.

"What happened to them?" Megatron's booming voice rang out with a wrathful undertone that left even the bravest shaking. Starscream, however, barely heard him. White hot fury raged in every part of him as he listened, his grip on the war room table increasing to the point of damaging the surface.

"The Well of Allsparks stopped producing vorns ago. We believe that in light of this, they targeted the evacuation ship specifically to claim our newsparks as their own." Those fragging GLITCHES.

"THIS IS ABOMINABLE!"

"We must bring Cybertron DOWN."

"This cannot stand."

The cries of his fellow Decepticons echoed around him. But all Starscream could feel was the terror of his creation, the rage of having lost him and his conjunx, and the sheer wrath that boiled so hotly in his spark it threatened to explode.

They would pay. They would ALL pay.

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Being stranded on a foreign world with limited resources was never fun. Having an entire team of what amounted to three younglings and one semi-adult? That was even worse. The only saving grace was that each seemed to have enough common sense to not be wrapped up in all the propaganda nonsense. Ratchet's initial assessment of his newfound team was fairly simple.

Young, stupid, but not unsalvagable.

That assessment changed the instant he started getting them in for checkups.

"Optimus, who were your creators?" The Prime sat on the edge of the medical berth, shrugging as if he weren't a walking medical disaster. He smiled sheepishly, showing off the tips of fangs he had evidently tried hard to hide. His digits tapped the berth, small claws having been long since filed down but quickly growing back. A quick glance at his frame showed that he was far too lean for a ground unit. It wasn't something he noticed initially, but the Prime was abnormally top heavy, a trait usually found in flight or warframes. On top of that, his optics were unusually focused. Most civilian framed bots had full optical lenses that hid their inner workings. But warframes? Their optical glass was more transparent, allowing for them to focus on targets easier.

Optimus, on the surface, looked the part of the simple grounder. But any medic worth their shanix could take one scan and see he absolutely was NOT what he seemed. The constant twitching only added to Ratchet's suspicions.

"I don't know who my creators are. I was a refugee found orphaned after an attack down in Polyhex." What a bunch of slag. Any vet could tell that the Polyhex 'attack' was a coverup. Thinking back on it, there had been a sudden surge in newsparks following that event...

"Bumblebee, what about you? Who were your creators?" The yellow grounder flinched at being called out, a fact Ratchet noted with growing suspicion. Bumblebee was far more in line with traditional civilian blueprints when compared to Optimus, but getting a closer look at him revealed scars. Dozens of surgical scars of all things. He'd had parts removed, parts that Ratchet could swiftly assume were likely more warframe than civilian.

"Don't know! I'm with the Bossbot. I was one of the last wave that came from the Well." Bumblebee's plating shifted, and instinctual thing that would have once allowed a mech with wings to raise them. Ratchet sighed as he saw the motion. His statement was also a bunch of scrap. Ratchet had been one of the attending medics at the last wave and it had been long before Bumblebee or the rest were framed.

"Bulkhead. Same question." The largest of their group fiddled with his digits, unsure of how to answer. Scanning him like a hawk, Ratchet found no physical issues to add to his increasingly likely theory. But the gentle white glow of the bulky mech's optics told a story that fell in line with his teammates. Running a scan showed his spark signature was off the charts. His spark was far too powerful for the frame it was in. He had to be in pain. There was no way all that excess energy wasn't hurting him, especially since he wasn't bolting around twenty four seven.

He was in the wrong frame. That much was clear.

"Sorry Doc. I was also part of the last wave." Ratchet sighed, rubbing his face as he looked over the three near younglings in his care. Was he going senile? He highly doubted it. This... whatever this was... it was not beyond the Council. Especially if it was for the sake of their precious war.

"Give me a moment." Stepping out of the medical bay, Ratchet moved directly to Prowl's room. The ninja was the only one he hadn't had much of a chance to scan, and now he needed to be sure.

"Prowl!" He didn't even bother to knock before kicking open the door. The ninja didn't even twitch from where he was meditating. He simply hummed, getting up after a moment to address Ratchet as he caught his breath.

"I need to confirm something. Take off the visor." Prowl hesitated. Ratchet stared.

Prowl was, reportedly, also an orphan of Polyhex. If what Ratchet suspected was true, then he-

"I take it you've begun to put the pieces together." The visor came off without a fight, revealing blazing red optics that momentarily left Ratchet stunned in their brilliance. He stepped back, staring in sheer shock as it all came together in one disgusting picture.

Prowl was small, yes. But there was no denying the red, or the unnatural competence in battle. If he was like this... then the rest of the team-

"They don't know, but we are of the three hundred."

Oh.

"I was one of the few old enough to remember. But I had to keep my mouth shut." Prowl stepped closer, meeting Ratchet's gaze calmly. It was impossible to move under the red of those optics.

"We are warframes, doctor. And for your information, I am just as surprised to find others like me as you are." Prowl maintained optic contact for a long moment. Ratchet had to run through the data a few more times before he simply groaned and tried hard to not try and bang his helm on the nearest wall.

He had Decepticon younglings to get properly framed and trained.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers animated #starscream #optimus prime #ratchet #prowl #bumblebee #bulkhead #megatron #alternate universe #tf animated #tfa #tfa au #tfa warframes au

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withlove-angel · 1 year ago

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How would they confess to you ?

(Luffy, sanji, zoro, Buggy, law)

Luffy

I think Luffy would be very straightforward with his confession, he wouldn't want to beat around the bush or cause any confusion. He would be very clear about his feelings for you and how much you mean to him. He might not be the most romantic person in the world but he would try his best to show you how much he cares about you and how important you are to him.

He might start by saying something like, "You know, I've been really enjoying our time together, and I have to say...I'm starting to fall for you!" Then, he might add, "Oh, who am I kidding, I've completely fallen for you! You're the only person who can make me smile like this and I never want that to go away." He might even end his confession with, "So, wanna be my treasure?"

Sanji

Well, Sanji might not confess right away, but he might start with subtle hints. He might drop little compliments or flirt a lot more. He would also make an extra-special meal to impress you. Eventually, he might get up the courage to tell you how he feels, and he would say something like "You're so beautiful and kind, it's hard not to have a crush on you"

That's true! Sanji does like to flirt, but he's also very respectful of women and their boundaries. He wouldn't push if you said no, but he might be a bit... persistent... if you said maybe, or said you wanted to get to know him better before making a decision. He might ask you more questions about yourself and your interests, or try to impress you with his cooking or fighting skills. But he wouldn't force you into anything, even if he does really like you

"I love your smile, and your laugh. Your eyes sparkle like jewels and your hair is like the sun on a sunny day. You're strong and brave, and you don't let anything stop you. I want to be the person who makes you smile the most in the whole world. My heart is yours; will you please accept it?"

Zoro

The way I envision it, he'd confess during a time of quiet, peace, and contemplation. He'd be hesitant, nervous, probably even a little awkward in his own way, but he'd do it without hesitation because it's what he's feeling. He'd want it to be genuine and sincere, and maybe it'd even be a spur-of-the-moment decision. If it's a more emotional moment, his swords might even be discarded to the side, as a symbolic gesture

*deep breath*" Oi. You know it's me, right? There's something I wanna get off my chest. It's not easy for me to put it into words. I don't know if I'm making sense... But here goes. I kinda like you- like like you. A lot. I think I've felt this way for a while now, but I haven't been able to say it. I know it's a lot to just say out loud, and it feels a bit... reckless. But I gotta just get it out. I like you."

Buggy

Buggy likes to present himself as powerful and intimidating. But deep down he's just an insecure guy who worries about what others think of him. In a private setting with someone he trusts, I think Buggy would be a lot more honest and open about his feelings. But he would still do it his own way, maybe in a roundabout way without actually saying the words "I love you".

I think Buggy would be very loyal and protective in a relationship, and he'd make sure that his partner knows that he values their connection deeply.

He would be careful not to say anything overly cheesy or melodramatic. He might try to lighten the mood with a joke, or compliment you in a way that makes you feel special and important to him. He would probably try to impress you with his strength and courage, and show off his abilities as a fighter and leader.

He would probably also be quite thoughtful and sweet, and show that he really cares about your well-being and happiness. But he wouldn't want to be too vulnerable or emotional, so he would likely try to keep things light and playful.

"So.. I.. err.. *cough* you're the most beautiful and amazing person I've ever met. (Turns all red) *cough* I mean... err... you're not too bad I guess. (Tries to smile) Wanna.. err.. be my partner.. I mean... umm... *cough* wanna be my romantic partner? Yeah, that's it. *cough* That was a joke, right? Right?"

Law

Law is the type to give subtle hints that he likes someone while keeping his feelings under wraps. If you like him too, you'd probably have to make a move first. He's the type to deny his feelings until the moment they're expressed. He has a hard time displaying his emotions, although he's quite a warm person internally.

If you confess he would probably be stunned at first. He wouldn't expect this to happen. However, once he processes what's occurred, he would probably say something along the lines of "Oh... hmm. Is that so?" His expression would definitely display his surprised and potentially pleased state. Though, he'll probably keep his answer brief and ambiguous. But the slightly blush and smirk on his face dont lie...

#yandere one piece #one piece imagine #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy the clown #law one piece #law x reader #luffy x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #one piece #zoro #sanji #luffy

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trash-sonamy · 3 months ago

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Sonic and Amy's relationship through the years: why did it change?

From games to shows, comics to official publications, it's evident that the dynamics of Sonic and Amy's relationship have changed through the years, with Amy toning down her fangirling and Sonic often being the driving force of their ship with his flirting, teasing and subtle jealousy (as user @essycogany pointed out in this analysis). But why are we witnessing this change? Let's dive into some key moments and reasons.

Disclaimer: I'm going to disregard the "canon" factor because it's not relevant to the general public perception of their relationship.

Sonic X

Any good sonamy fan will remember the fateful episode 52 of Sonic X. I interpret this episode of the series as the key moment that shifted their dynamic.

From the beginning of the series, we see an Amy that is very vocal about her crush and chases Sonic around, with Sonic having a few not-so-nice moments of pushing her and trying to run away from her. Their relationship shifts through the series though, and we begin seeing more of Amy's side as a determined fighter (that scares even Eggman!).

I won't over analyse episode 52 as it has been done countless times before, but Sonic going back to his world and seeking Amy in the first place means she's a valuable friend (or something else) to him. This moment alone brought popularity to the ship and to Amy as a character, which brings us to the next point.

Character development

I'm gonna risk saying that Sonic and Amy are the characters that have suffered the most development throughout the years. There are other characters who had development and even met different versions of themselves, but Sonic and Amy stand out in my opinion for different reasons.

Let's analyse Sonic: from the beginning, Sonic was always supposed to be cool, a beacon of positivity and the embodiment of the hero that always saves the day. The first Sonic games are pretty straightforward about that. However, in more recent games and shows, we've been seeing different sides of him: he has made mistakes (and recognized it), he has been impulsive, he has felt grief, sadness and anger and he hasn't been shy about it. Sonic Prime showed us probably the most emotional version of Sonic we've seen, and guess what? That pleases the public because everyone enjoys a flawed hero.

Moving on to Amy. Amy has a somewhat controversial birth, given that she was (apparently) created to be "Sonic's girlfriend" / romantic interest. Her crush on Sonic was, for some time, her only personality trait. With new games and media, she gradually gained her space and we started seeing more of her. Her kindness, her strength, her empathy, her leadership skills — all of which exist despite her crush on Sonic. She became more appealing as we got to learn more about her, and solidified her position as a valuable member of Sonic's team.

The development of these two characters as explained above made it possible for the dynamic we have today to grow naturally: Sonic openly teasing and (very often) showing signs that Amy means a lot to him, which is a result of Amy being her own self and showing her strength and independency — traits that we know Sonic appreciates.

Progression of values in society

I don't want to make this sound more deep than it actually is, but it's true that certain dynamics wouldn't be acceptable today simply because we as a society have progressed. The trope of the fangirl chasing her idol everywhere might have been a fun gag in the 90s, but it's just not it for today's standards. It has been made very clear that Sega wants to stir away from that image since that, for Sonic Generations, they edited the scene from Sonic 06 where Sonic shoves his hand in Amy's face to push her away. This kind of behavior doesn't align with Sonic's current values either.

Teasing is just fun!

Honestly, teasing sonamy is just too much fun without the commitment. One of the writers for Sonic Boom once said it:

And isn't that true? It's refreshing seeing the cool, composed Sonic blushing or showing jealousy, as it is to see how Amy reacts to her crush behaving this way. As a longtime sonamy fan, I just love searching for all the small hints and teases and over analysing them (like I'm doing now). It's endless material for gags too — check this compilation of sonamy moments in Twitter takeovers.

In conclusion, Sonic and Amy's relationship changed as they progressed as characters and Sega aimed to please a wider audience, giving space for fans to interpret their relationship as they please.

I also want to state that the points are my personal opinions and obviously open to be discussed. If you think I missed any point, please do let me know. Hope you like this!

#me if my master's degree was sonamy #am i reading too much into this?#absolutely #sonamy #sonic #amy rose #sonic boom #sonic prime #sonic x #sonic frontiers #sonic generations #happy new year's btw

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chibieggplant · 1 year ago

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Law falls for you slow and steady

Trafalgar law Headcanons | When he has a crush on you

Law's crush on you manifests slowly and subtly. It starts with him noticing the way your eyes light up when discussing something you're passionate about or the kindness you show to others.

He often finds himself stealing glances at you when he thinks you're not looking, only to quickly avert his gaze when you catch him. Law tries to act cool and collected about it, but his crewmates soon start noticing him staring dreamily at you and you can bet they tease him mercilessly about it.

Law's normally precise and focused nature becomes slightly scattered when he's in your presence. He might find himself lost in thought, daydreaming about cute or romantic scenarios involving you, only to snap back to reality with an embarrassed expression.

Despite his tough exterior, Law is not immune to unintentionally blushing furiously or getting flustered around you. Compliment him or praise his skills as a doctor / fighter and he will turn into a stuttering mess.

Whenever you're around, Law's usually calm and collected demeanor becomes a bit more chaotic as he tries to hide his nerves. Suddenly he turns into Corazon and is now tripping over his feet and accidentally bumping into things.

Law's attempts at flirting with you are often hilariously awkward, he's not used to expressing his emotions openly. His deadpan delivery and bluntness don’t help his case either. Penguin tried to give him advice on how to be more romantic but it often comes out wrong. “You’re like the North Star in my chaotic sea of life…except, I’m not lost or anything. Just metaphoricaly…speaking.”

He often attempts to make conversation with you…key word being attempt “So um…did you hear about that new medical breakthrough? It’s fascinating stuff. Way less complicated than…emotions…did you know that the human heart beats around 100,000 times a day?”

He protective side comes out around you, subtly keeping an eye on you during battles or dangerous situations, ensuring you're safe without drawing too much attention to it…Though it’s painfully obvious to everyone else when the poster boy for sticking to the plan diverts his plan just to help you.

Law often overreacts when you have even the slightest injury or ailment, treating it as a major medical emergency. His crewmates find it amusing how he switches instantly into "doctor mode" for the smallest of issues when it comes to you. You have a small cut on your arm? He insists it needs to be sterilised immediately, let him look at it, it might need stitches.

As Law's feelings deepen, he finds himself drawn to your company more and more. He starts seeking opportunities to spend time together, whether it's finally coming out of his office to join you for lunch, or stealing you away to discuss strategies for upcoming missions because he needs your input��he doesn’t, he just hasn’t spoken to you in the past hour and he misses you.

Law's crewmates, particularly Bepo and Penguin, become keen observers of his behavior around you. They notice the subtle shifts in his demeanor, the way his gaze softens when he looks at you, and the genuine smiles that grace his usually stoic face in your presence.

Bepo, becomes his unintentional wingman, trying to nudge him closer to you whenever possible. Though his attempts often just make Law stumble into you. Bepo pushes him to compliment you “Doesn’t y/ns hair look nice today captain? Tell her it looks nice” *cue the adorable bear eyes that Law can’t say no to*

Over time, as your relationship deepens, Law might find the courage to subtly hint at his feelings, although he remains cautious about how you might respond. He’s already lost someone he loves once he can’t lose you too.

He starts leaving small gifts or tokens of affection for you in your room, though he would never admit they were from him. His gifts often end up being quirky or unconventional items that reflect his personality, like a tiny model of the Polar Tang or a cute plushie of Bepo.

Regardless of his reserved nature, Law's crush on you brings out a softer side of him. Over time, as trust and mutual understanding deepen between you and Law, he begins to open up more to you. He find himself sharing personal stories and memories of his past with you.

Despite being a former warlord, Law becomes a bit of a nervous wreck when he tries to confess his feelings to you. He rehearses his lines multiple times in the mirror, only to end up blurting out something completely different.

“You know I’ve performed countless surgeries but trying to fix my heart after meeting you is the toughest one yet…wait, that sounded smoother in my head. What I meant is that it seems that I have a significant affection coefficient towards you…dammit! I mean, I-i really like you a lot!”

Law’s crush on you blossoms into true love, he cherishes the bond you have that’s built on trust, respect and genuine care. You become a source of joy and lightheartedness during his chaotic days, bringing much needed colour and love to his life.

#trafalgar law #law #trafalgar law x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #trafalgar law headcanons #one piece headcanons #headcanons

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fallenrocket · 4 months ago

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My god, Cassian is just so young in season 1 of Andor. On this last rewatch, it kept jumping out at me everywhere. Especially at the start of the show, which makes sense--he goes through a pretty intense education over the course of the season and transforms before our eyes. But there's just so much in Cassian that comes from being young, traumatized, and desperate.

We see it in his moments of unabashed fear, like when he's stopped by the two corpos in the pilot, the first time he sees the TIE fighter fly past on Aldhani, or as the prison transport takes off for Narkina 5. Even when he tries to hide it, we can see it in his eyes, the parts of him that are still that scared kid from Kenari.

We see it in the chip he has on his shoulder, like the attitude he cops with Luthen in their first meeting: "I don't know you." He's not just guarded and distrustful, he kind of actively resents this guy trying to get too familiar with him. When he's scared, uncertain, or guilty, he tends to push others away, a product of having to fight most of his life and of losing many of the things and people he's cared about. I also think of him coldly telling Bix, "You won't have to worry about me anymore," at the end of their argument in "Announcement."

And yet, by the same token, he can also be surprisingly open and earnest in his affections. For me, this is most apparent in his scenes with Maarva in "Announcement." There, we see his naive optimism that the money he got from Aldhani can solve all their problems. He's so buoyant and hopeful and loving as he suggests running away, saying, "What do we need but the three of us?" Later in the episode, we see that same naivety when he insists, "We'll find a place they haven't ruined yet." But it crops up in other places too. On Aldhani, he chooses Clem's name as his pseudonym, even though he already realizes Luthen has a lot of intel on him and will probably recognize it--in that moment, his distrust of Luthen is outweighed by his desire to go into this dangerous mission carrying a small piece of his dad with him. Then there's that beautiful hug with Brasso in "Rix Road," especially those few extra beats past when you'd expect them to part. When he hugs Melshi in the previous episode, Cassian is rushed, on the brink of falling apart and not wanting Melshi to see. But with Brasso, Cassian needs that touch for a few extra seconds, and he's not afraid to hold on a little longer.

Most of Cassian's dumbest mistakes in the season are very youthful ones. He's an incredibly smart and observant guy, so he's not dumb very often, but when he is, it tends to come back to being young, traumatized, and desperate. We see this especially in the opening Ferrix arc: insisting on bringing an unsecured comm to his meeting with Luthen (oh my god, the way he bickers with B2EMO about them beforehand!) and trying to go back for the starpath unit when the shit hits the fan, even after Luthen repeatedly tells him to leave it. With the starpath unit, part of it is naivety--"What if it's just one guy left?"--and part of it is growing up poor and scrappy. This box represents more money than he's ever had at any one time, and he simply can't process the idea that his buyer would just leave it behind.

Finally, every now and then, Cassian has this subtle but impeccable "little shit" energy. We definitely see it when he messes with Timm in the pilot, deliberately goading him instead of trying to defuse the situation when he sees that Timm is jealous. It's a dumb, petty moment of cheap satisfaction that winds up with some intense blowback when Timm IDs him to Pre-Mor. And I love Cassian's refusal to give up on Kino on Narkina 5, always believing he can be brought into the fold no matter how many times Kino tells him to forget about it. It's a great reflection of how Cassian rejects the Empire's attempts to divide the inmates by pitting them against each other, but part of why he's able to keep at it is his annoying-kid tenacity. I love the scene where Kino brushes him off by saying how many shifts he has left and Cassian immediately responds with, "So...tell me what you know before you go."

It's simply wild to compare the Cassian we see in "Kassa" to the one in "Rix Road." He goes through so much in twelve episodes and really comes into his own, and it's fantastic to see some of the qualities he displays in Rogue One starting to peek through. He's already come so far in his character growth--I cannot wait to see how season 2 gets us from "Rix Road" to Rogue One!

Oh yeah, and Diego Luna is simply stunning. You can really feel how he traced Cassian's life backwards to this point, see how different the Cassian of "Kassa" is from the Cassian of Rogue One and yet still fully believe that this is the same character. All the little hints he drops, all the tiny moments where you can see Rogue One Cassian starting to gestate. It's such beautiful, brilliant work!

#fallenrocket #star wars #andor #cassian andor #diego luna

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lovesickeros · 2 years ago

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☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #neuvillette #focalors #furina #dont ask what happened here idk #this was. also supposed 2 be neuvi focused and then i.#dont talk 2 me abt focalors i wont ever shut up #got a 300k word essay on hand abt how i feel abt her character/how i interpret her personality and her story #focalors jsut like me fr fr (cries at the slightest inconvenience or the slightest mean comment)#shes so pathetic girlfail im gonna chew on her #what happens when reader gets stuck with two emotionally repressed french bastards?? hell #neuvi is the “emotionless” flavor of emotionally repressed in that hes HORRIBLE at showing emotions at all #ask him to smile and its incredibly unnerving and theres too many teeth but hes trying his best please call him pretty or he will cry :(#furina is the flavor of emotionally repressed where she makes it up by having Too Many emotions #using theatrics and masks to show everyone what they want to see but inside this girl is a MESS #constant anxiety and panic 24/7 #will do random shit and look at you and if u dont compliment her she will think u hate her and cry #compliment her and she'll do even stupider shit to try and impress you more #i love my scrunkly little babies they r so stupid and mentally ill someone get these bitches some THERAPY #i want 2 put them under a microscope #watch this be ooc fr furina when more of her lore drops if shes not girlfail im leaving #anyway see u in a week im going on a trip ill get back 2 u in 6-7 business days

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buccini555 · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬: "𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.𝟸"

₊˚ ໑ : How would they act after you fought with the girl who flirted with them?

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ H e a d c a n o n s!!

·̩͙ ₊ ᨦ ♡ ᨩ ໋₊ ·̩͙ 𝑭𝒕. Izana Kurokawa, Kakucho Hitto, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Kokonoi Hajime, Inui Seishu and Naoto Tachibana

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝.𝟷 | 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝.𝟸 | 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝.𝟹

⋆ ࣪. 𝐈𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 ˖ ࣪⭑

When Izana laid eyes on you and saw you hitting on the girl, he took a while to go get you, since he really thought she needed to learn not to insist on other people's boyfriends.

"Come on! You've hit her enough, don't you think, honey?" When he was finally going to get you off the girl, Izana would say seriously while holding your arm without much strength, deep down, holding himself back so as not to burst out laughing at the whole situation.

"Where did you learn to fight so well? I'm sure it was me, you're my smart girl." He would speak laughing, holding your face and arranging your hair affectionately, despite this, Izana would be extremely angry if you had ended up hurt.

⋆ ࣪. 𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨 ˖ ࣪⭑

Kakucho definitely didn't expect such an attitude from you until he saw you hitting the girl. At first, he was so disbelieved that he just remained without reaction, but he soon went to get you out of the mess.

"Baby? What the fuck are you doing..." He would say, pulling you away from the girl, Kakucho would be worried about you getting hurt or something, he would never fight with you, so he just calmed you down for a while.

"Look at me, my princess, don't do that again, okay? You could have gotten hurt, sweet." He would say hugging you and giving you a small kiss on your forehead, Kakucho would defend you and really wouldn't care about the fact that you attacked another girl.

⋆ ࣪. 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐨 ˖ ࣪⭑

"What the hell?" The first thing Sanzu would do would be to pull you out of all that mess, he would be a little embarrassed because of that fight and he would also become worried, since he really didn't want you to end up hurting yourself for nothing.

"Damn? You're going to end up killing her, that's enough." He would say taking you off the girl and taking you to an empty place, Haruchiyo didn't like the idea of having so many people watching him, so he would take you to a quiet place.

"Listen, you could have gotten hurt, I don't want you to get involved with that kind of bitch again, it's better to obey me..." He would give you a subtle smile, kissing you warmly right after, Sanzu liked to see how far your jealousy could arrive.

⋆ ࣪. 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢 ˖ ࣪⭑

Undeniably, Rindou would be extremely surprised to see you hitting a girl, even more so out of jealousy of him.

"Go! Finish her, baby!" He would shout from afar, Rindou would honestly have a lot of fun watching you win a fight, even so, it really wouldn't take him long to get you out of all that chaos.

"You've done enough here, let's go." He would pull you by the arm, speaking very quietly in your ear as he took you away from the girl.

"I didn't know you were that strong, apparently, you learned exactly what I taught you, you even deserve a reward." Rindou would tell you before pulling you by the waist and rewarding you with a kiss.

⋆ ࣪. 𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢 ˖ ࣪⭑

Ran wouldn't give a damn about just a girl's fight until he realized that you were the one fighting, immediately, he would go to where you were and watch the whole mess for a while.

"That's enough, love, I believe that bitch has already learned her lesson." Holding you, he would talk laughing about the girl, even if he seemed calm when mocking the whole situation, Ran would be really worried about whether you were hurt.

"Are you hurt? If you are, you can let me finish her off myself." He would question in a threatening tone, then take you to a private place.

"You're a good fighter, hmm? You are for sure, my girl! I'm proud of you." Ran would say, caressing your face slowly.

⋆ ࣪. 𝐊𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞 ˖ ࣪⭑

Kokonoi didn't waste his time watching other people's confusion, however, he became alarmed at the same moment he realized that the one who was fighting at that moment was simply his own girlfriend.

"I think you've hit her enough, let's get out of here now." He would take you off the girl by pulling you by the arm, being careful not to end up hurting you.

"...Don't ever do that again, understand? You could have gotten hurt, I won't always be here to defend you, my sweetheart." Kokonoi wouldn't fight with you, but would just make you promise not to get involved in confessions again since he was really worried about you getting hurt.

⋆ ࣪. 𝐈𝐧𝐮𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐮 ˖ ࣪⭑

At first, Inui would be completely disbelieved to see you fighting, even so, he would rush to get you away from that girl.

"... Stop it." He would speak in a firm tone of voice, later removing you from the girl, before leaving the place, he would check if you were not hurt, if you were, he wouldn't mind cursing a little at the girl you had just attack onin front of everyone.

"I never want to see you get into fights again, especially because of me, right? I won't do it again..." Inupi would hug you and fill you with caresses until you calmed down, he certainly wouldn't waste time giving you a moral lesson, it would just make you swear never to do anything like that again.

⋆ ࣪. 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚 ˖ ࣪⭑

Naoto hates fights and seeing you in the middle of one would leave him truly beyond irritated, completely disappointed.

"Let's get out of here, now!" He would hold you tightly enough to take you off the girl, but still being completely careful, Naoto would take you away from that mess and take you to a private place.

"What did you think you were doing? That was ridiculous! I don't want to see you in that kind of situation again, are we clear?" He would spend some long and cruel hours filling your head with the most diverse moral lessons possible.

"...I love you and I don't want to see you hurt." After the sermons ended, he would speak sincerely, showing how worried he was.

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kaizokuniichan · 2 years ago

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Attention - Part 1: Mossy Musings

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro/Afab Reader (referred to as she/her)/Trafalgar Law

Summary: There’s something going on with you and Law. But there’s also something going on with you and Zoro.

• This chapter is very tame and just kind of sets up the plot. Supposed to take place after Dressrosa so Law is onboard the Sunny. Everyone is pining.

CW: none for this chapter

Word Count: 2k

Next Chapters: Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

*This specific chapter doesn’t have any inappropriate material but the rest of the story will so MDNI

(Divider by @cafekitsune Banner by @/eelnoise)

Zoro knew you had a thing for Law. For someone as perceptive as him, he’d especially mastered reading you. Normally you were very precious with which parts of yourself you revealed, but when you liked something, that preciousness began to slip away.

He wasn’t jealous of Law, far from it actually. He respected the hell out of him, respected his strength and how formidable of a fighter he was, and respected how much he trusted Luffy as an ally despite how tentative that allyship was. But he was curious as to what exactly attracted you to him. He knew objectively he was a good-looking guy, he was older, and he had an underlying angst that seemed to appeal to you. But he was just as guarded as you were, and if your walls were a chain link fence, needing to be rattled to shake off little nuggets of your innermost self, his walls were a 20 foot tall, thick slab of concrete.

Maybe it was the mystery of wanting to figure him out and getting him to open up, something that seemed impossible given the incompatibility of his personality with the raucousness of your crew. But you did have a disarming air, and a penchant for making people comfortable enough to reveal their vulnerabilities. So maybe throughout the time Law spent on the ship you’d began chipping away at that concrete slab.

Law was even harder to read, though not impossible. Zoro saw the way his eyes lingered, intrigue pooling in his irises. How he seemed to anticipate your needs, wordlessly filling your plate with more vegetables and rice during meals; always at the right place and the right time to catch you whenever your clumsiness tripped your feet. How his scowl softened when you came to him with a question about an ailment you’d been plagued with since Chopper wasn’t available. It was subtle, but the tension in his shoulders, and the grit in his teeth (irritated by Strawhat antics) would dissipate as you followed him to extract yourselves from the chaos any time your social batteries depleted. Just like Robin, you were someone he seemed to have found comfort in, but it was different with you. He was different with you.

Zoro observed the two of you, tucked away in your favorite corner of the deck overlooking the glittering reflection of the setting sun. Law sat next to you at an appropriate distance, back against the railing and arms rested on bent knees. He didn’t face you but his body was positioned in a way that suggested he was actively engaged with your presence. A subtle movement of his mouth made you giggle, obviously in relation to something he’d said. Law didn’t say things that were intended to be funny, but sometimes his dry platitudes were so dramatic one could find them quite amusing. Your laughter pulled his attention back to you, eyes shifting to your face and lips curling into a barely perceptible smile. It took him several moments to drag his gaze away from yours to look down at his hands.

You must’ve complimented his tattoos, something you’d not so subtly alluded to liking on more than one occasion, though not to Law directly. To Zoro’s mild surprise Law held his hand out for you to trace your fingers over the ink. He watched as you gushed, biting your lip in concentration as you admired the intricate shapes and patterns. Law’s eyes never left your face, heated pride radiating from his skin. A hint of pink dusted his cheeks as you placed his palm on top of yours, curling and threading your fingers to you compare the sizes of your hands. Zoro snickered; this was your classic move. He’d seen you do it countless times in a local bar with some nameless patron; hell, you’d even done it to him. It always turned the person into putty, and the effect on Law was no different.

Zoro’s snort caught your attention as both your heads snapped over to him. Law discreetly snatched his hand from yours, subtly shifting further away. Zoro took pity on the man, obviously not realizing he’d had an audience, and raised his jug of sake in acknowledgment. While the two of you waffled about, trying to put some space between you, a workout in the crow’s nest suddenly felt very appealing as Zoro took his katanas and made his way back inside. As he approached the door leading to the kitchen he caught sight of Robin sitting at her little table, sipping on a cup of tea. She greeted him with a serene smile and a friendly wave which Zoro returned with another lift of his jug. Just as he was about to pass she turned to him, tinkling voice lilting over the lip of her teacup.

“Does that bother you?” She asked, eyes drifting over to you and Law still pretending to not have been canoodling on the other side of the deck.

Zoro knew it was pointless playing dumb about what she was implying. She was always in tune with everything going on aboard the ship.

“No, not really,” he huffed, already knowing where this was going.

“Just curious?”

Zoro looked back over his shoulder at you, still dragging your fingers along Law’s arm.

“Doesn’t matter,” he sighed, continuing on his journey and ignoring the amused glint in her eye.

“She seems to have a type, handsome and powerful swordsmen.”

Zoro stopped in his tracks as he shook his head, laughing to himself.

“Seems like her attention span is fleeting since there’s a new boy toy around.”

“Are you saying you’re also her boy toy?” Robin prodded, eyebrows raised in mock surprise and still infuriatingly calm and collected as she flustered him.

“I’m not saying I’m anything,” he muttered, grinding his teeth as his ears burned. Robin had a knack for zeroing in on the most humiliating parts of himself. It was why he avoided her as much as he could.

He started to stomp away, but she reeled him back with one final jab.

“If it does bother you, you should act fast. Something tells me he’s feeling more bold the closer we get to Zou. He might want to snatch her up before you get to her first.”

A niggling sense of dread ate at the center of his chest as he pictured you leaving the crew to join the Heart Pirates. To be with him. He knew there was no way that would happen, but the thought still shook him, ice filling his veins. He wasn’t going to let Robin’s predictably dark musings rattle him; he was fine. It’s not like he had anything going on with you anyway, save for some fleeting glances here and there, a lingering touch in passing. You two hadn’t even kissed. Neither of you were the type to commit to anything on a romantic scale, and Zoro wasn’t the type to delude himself into believing that any of it actually meant something. There was too much on the line with him working to achieve his goals, and your relationship as crew mates. A little mutual attraction was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

After a few hours of blowing steam in the gym, Zoro collapsed onto the bench, muscles groaning with relief. He’d brought the jug of sake with him upstairs, and took a healthy swig, gulping down as if it were water.

As trails of escaped sake ran down the sides of his face, your head suddenly appeared above the ladder, eyes meeting his and face blooming into a smile. As more of your body lifted up into the space he smirked. You’d donned an old sweatshirt of his, worn and fraying hem falling halfway to your knees. His mouth betrayed him as he grinned, feeling slightly gleeful that you’d chosen a piece of him to adorn yourself with.

You walked over to where he sat, the sound of your slides slapping your heels echoing against the walls. As you stood in front of him, you thrust your hand out and made grabby motions at his jug.

“Use your words,” he tsked, clutching the sake to his chest.

“Gimme some of that,” you pouted, still offering your hand to him.

He grasped your hand, pulling you down to collapse next to him, dragging you closer.

“You smell horrible,” you huffed, wrinkling your nose.

“You knew that when you came here.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” you grumbled, finally snatching the sake from him.

“But you knew it was a 50/50 chance.”

“Hm. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He snickered as he watched you take a sip, gagging at the taste. He’d busted your balls enough times about how you couldn’t actually handle it, so he’d let it slide just this once.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No, I’ve hardly been able to at all this week.”

“Too busy thinking about Tall Broody Sideburns?” He couldn’t help himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumbled, lip poking out in another pout. Normally you wore an armor of stoicism when you felt exposed but now you weren’t even trying.

“You sure weren’t shy when you were making googly eyes at him earlier.”

“Don’t be jealous,” you rebounded, mushing his face with your hand. He caught your wrist in a loose hold, looking into your eyes.

“You know it’s not a good idea to fraternize with the enemy.”

Your shriek of laughter caught him off guard, but he buzzed with satisfaction for making you smile.

“You’re so annoying you know that?”

He let go of your wrist, stretching his arm along the back of the bench. You shifted closer, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I thought you said I smelled.”

“You do but I’m getting used to it. Color me shocked.”

His hand came down to grasp your shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“You know it’s fine with me right? It’s no pressure you know.”

You turned to look at him, an unreadable expression on your face.

“No pressure about what? There’s nothing going on.”

Zoro knew he’d said something wrong, your body pulling away from his grasp. You stood up preparing to leave when reached for your hand.

“You know how complicated this is though, right? He’s technically our enemy when all of this shit is over with.”

Still standing, you turned back to throw him a conflicted look.

“Yeah I know I just…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You wanna be greedy and have us both?”

You pulled your hand from his, shaking your head.

“I just want to feel wanted, you know? I can’t help that I like…who I like,” you sighed, briefly catching his eye. “I just. I know none of this, any of this, can become anything. It’s all so fucked.”

Zoro grunted as he straightened up in his seat, wrapping an arm around your waist to plop you back down at his side.

“If you’re worried that this will put a damper on…whatever’s going on, don’t worry about it. It’s up to you to determine what you want. I’m obviously not going anywhere.

“Obviously?”

“You know that.”

His words seemed to melt the tension as you settled back into his side.

“Why are you being so accommodating?”

He nuzzled the side of your face and pulled you closer against him.

“Because. We live together stupid.”

You scoffed, playfully flicking his forehead.

“And because I respect you. And at the end of the day I do care about you.”

You turned in your seat to look at him, curiosity painting your face.

“You know, you’re a lot cuter than you give yourself credit for.”

He rolled his eye but couldn’t wipe the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Being cute isn’t something I strive to be.”

“So you just can’t help it. That makes it cuter.”

Refusing to argue any further, he squeezed your sides, eliciting another one of those banshee shrieks he always teased you about.

You were both unaware of the man at the bottom of the ladder, listening intently and brimming with a new resolve.

#myfic #roronoa zoro x reader #Trafalgar law x reader #forgot to tag this lmfao #zoro x reader #law x reader #attention series

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