#but... the more the story unfolds... the more of him that i see... i think i really like him 👉👈

[mischiefbuckley]

still thinking of this quote from Ryan’s interview about Eddie in season 8 “And I would love to showcase a little bit more of the truth of what it is to be a Latino” like yes yes yes give me my Eddie centered arc I am so ready and again him being Mexican and growing up with as a Mexican boy in Texas in the Catholic culture upbringing like again it all just adds together and I hope they do it justice because this will be such an amazing and raw story to see unfold

[n0tamused]

"Deeds, not words"

A/n: Finally finished this and tbh I am very proud of how it came out even if I see that I could have done better in certain areas. I prefer the first one better, but tbh I love them both. I have scrambled together a little story to go along with this, although I do have to warn that the details of Jien and Proxy's story, how it really unfolds, is still subject to change. This drabble here is just me exploring ideas of how Proxy can start seeping more and more poison into Jien's life, but we'll see. To anyone that does read it, thank you <3 Mwah.

Contents: Syaoran, a technician of the team of Armed Archeologists, is accompanying Jien to Scalegorge Waterscape at the invite of a High Elder. What waits for them there is no warm welcome.

There is an odd tension in the air, so ill it made him sick. Scalegorge Waterscape had towering walls of water all around, and it felt as if they were ready to swallow him at any moment, the sky above being the only solace. The air was still with the smell of salt, and there was a quiet sound. Like the one a dog made before it growled. 

Miss YueXia didn’t budge, and Syaoran judged it was because she was from these parts. Perhaps she felt at home even, but whether that was good or bad didn’t have space in their conversation with the Elder before them. And now he could sense that feeling of anger from Jien, he only wished he could see her face from where he stood, a step behind her. Did she look angry? Or was it that cold expression she once served the team after that messed up expedition?

“We have welcomed you into our fold and treated you as our own. Yet our eyes have reported your face sneaking about in the night around the Luofu, sowing suspicions and spreading gossip. Is this your way to show gratitude, YueXia?”

The Elder looked at Jien with cold suspicious eyes. 

“High Elder, while I appreciate your invitation to meet me I fail to see how or why I would do such things, especially since I have not been on the Luofu in almost a year” she replied, cold and even tone, yet there was an unmistakable tinge of some need below it all - a need to make things right. A flicker of a flame. 

“Moreover, I have never wished you or the people of Luofu any ill will and I have always advocated for the safety of the civilians as much as a Cloud Knight. Did you bring me here to confront me for something another has done?”

“Another?” the Elder bristled, arrogance rolling off of him like a cloak. “I have seen it myself, this ‘another’ was you. I saw your face in the darkness. And you dare lie to my face? The Disciples of Sanctus Medicus have been on the prowl and you with them. I knew the IPC wishes to get their clutches on the Vidyadhara, but I refused to believe you would aid in such a goal”

That is not true, Syaoran wanted to say, feeling his face twist in displeasure. Jien was against the Abundance, against the Disciples, the whole team knew, but even if she wasn’t - her team was. Syaoran knew Kaiya had a burning hatred for the Abundance and his wife was from the Xianzhou Yaoqing. He’d be the first to jump against any idea of Jien bringing any harm to Xianzhou Luofu, but everyone knew she’d sooner go mad than think of such schemes. 

“Do you know how many you’ve hurt with your doings? And you wish to say my eyes are deceiving me as well?” 

Jien’s eyes fell dark and darker still, her jaw stiff as she ground her teeth together, listening to the Elder talk without interrupting him.

“I meant no insult when I previously said you were mistaken in your assertion, but now you are accusing me and my team of inexcusable crimes and I will not tolerate such” Her tail brushed against the cold stone, pale and gnawed away by sea and time. “High Elder, I can assure you I had no chance to do such things, even if I had the plan to ever harm you and the people, which I remind you again - I never did and never will do. I was half a cosmos away. Do you propose I have, perhaps, cloned myself? I pray you don't jest, High Elder, and listen to what I have to say. Who you saw was not me, I swear on my life..” Jien put her hand over her heart to show her sincerity as the seams of her silence began to tighten and break. 

The Elder Syaoran couldn’t remember the name of frowned deeply at her words, distrust swimming in his eyes, body taut as a bow string. “And you propose I believe you over the reports of countless others?” 

“I cannot force you to put those reports aside and trust my word alone, but I hope the eyewitnesses of my team, as well as camera surveillance and date records of my passage through the cosmos can be proof enough to you and so many others that are holding the belief that I or any of my team have committed these crimes. I am more than willing to bring them all over here, to you, as soon as morning comes if that would let your mind let go of these beliefs” Jien sighed and shook her head a moment later. “Although, I do fail to see - if these crimes are so severe, I would have expected someone else to come and question me about them..” there was a mild insult interlaced between her words and tone, so skillfully that not even the Elder before her could point it out without sounding mad.

He only exhales a long breath through his nose. “You will be questioned by the Ten-lords Commission” he said, tone resolute. Syaoran could see Jien move her hands behind her back, her fingers forming into a fist. Somthing told Syaoran that the High Elder came to this decision on the spot.. “The evidence is overwhelming and not in your favor. But I will give you until morning to bring your evidence to us, and we’ll take it from there”

[fidgetspringer]

- Marten & Nohren -

[roboraindrop]

Did I just fall for another BD character?? Aaahhhhhh

[cuntstable]

literally media understander has logged on

[thedeadthree]

agonizing over if ademarta should choose the mythic path of lich or aeon this fine evening! ah! 🥀😵‍💫

[morimess]

i keep seeing songs on TT that remind me of Linebeck...and I don't...really know how to feel about it.

[steveyockey]

To be aware you might be trans but unwilling to do anything about it is to create endlessly bigger boxes within which to contain yourself. When you are a child, that box might encompass only yourself and your parents. By the time you are a gainfully employed adult, that box will contain multitudes, and the thought of disrupting it will grow ever more unthinkable. So you cease to think of yourself as a person on some level; you think not of what you want but what everybody expects from you. You do your best not to make waves, and you apologize, if only implicitly, for existing. You stop being real and start being a construct, and eventually, you decide the construct is just who you are, and you swaddle yourself up in it, and maybe you die there. There is still time until there isn’t.

This reading of TV Glow’s deliberately anticlimactic, noncathartic ending cuts against the transition narrative you typically see in movies and TV, in which a trans person self-accepts, transitions, and lives a happier life. Owen gets trapped in a space where he knows what he must do to live an authentic life but simply refuses to take those steps because, well, burying yourself alive is a terrifying thing to do. The transition narrative posits a trans existence as, effectively, a binary switch between “man” and “woman” that gets flipped one way or another, but to make our lives so binary is to miss how trans existences possess an inherent liminality.

Humans’ lives unfold in a constant state of becoming until death, but trans people are uniquely keyed in to what this means thanks to the simple fact of our identities. You can get lost in that liminality, too, forever trapped in a midnight realm of your own making, stuck between what you believe is true (I am a nice man with a good family and a good job, and I love my life) and what you know, deep in your most terrified heart of hearts, is real (I am a girl suffocating in a box).

And yet if you want to read the film as being about the dangerous allure of nostalgia, you’re not wrong. I Saw the TV Glow totally supports that interpretation, too! But in tempting you with that reading, the film creates a trap for cis viewers that will be all too familiar to trans viewers. Somewhere in the middle of Maddy’s story about The Pink Opaque being real, you will make a choice between “This kid has lost it!” and “No. Go with her, Owen,” and in asking you to make that choice, TV Glow is simulating the act of self-accepting a trans identity.

See, the grimmer read of the film’s ending truly is a nihilistic one. It leaves no hope, no potential for growth, no exit. Yet you must actively choose to read that ending as nihilistic. If you are cis and the end of I Saw the TV Glow left you with a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, a weird but hard-to-pin-down feeling that something had broken, and a melancholy bordering on horror — congratulations, this movie gave you contact-high gender dysphoria.

In an infinite number of possible universes, there is at least one where I am still living “as a man,” embracing my fictionality, avoiding looking at how much more raw and real I feel when I “pretend” to be a woman. I think about that guy sometimes. I hope he’s okay.

Consider, then, my cis reader, that TV Glow is for both you and me, but it is maybe most of all for him. I hope he sees it. I hope he breaks down crying in the bathroom afterward. I hope he, after so many years locked inside himself, hears the promise of more life through the hiss of TV static.

Emily St. James, “I Saw the TV Glow’s Ending Is Full of Hope, If You Want It to Be,” Vulture. June 4, 2024.

[audisive]

♪ BROOKLYN BABY. (💌) – previous part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: the 141 believes the scot now.

tags: fluff, romance, soft!simon, you're basically their mom atp lol, bickering, there's a bet between gaz n soap, gaz secretly wants you shh, ooc characters, not proofread, price being the gentleman he is, he's seriously just watching everything unfold

       It's not always that Ghost is willing to let the 141 stay at his house for their traditions – which is just drinking beer and watching sports, really. In fact, he's always said something about his place being empty, so they always settled on someone else's. They stop asking after a year, and in turn, he stops having reasons.

It's not until Soap pops the question again when everyone else's houses are unavailable for a variety of reasons, his being that he left his faucet on and now his shitty apartment is flooded. You can only imagine the suspicion and shock when Ghost agrees (or, rather, simply grunts).

The drive is long, nothing short of 5 hours, and Soap spends the better half of it bickering with either Gaz or Ghost. He falls asleep by the next half, and when he awakes, he gawks at the lovely looking house before their car. There's two stories to it, a balcony, a front porch, and there's no doubt that there's a backyard.

Contrary to popular belief, no, it is not all black or plain at all. It's all equally surprising to them. The Brit isn't the type to care about the appearance and state of a house, usually. They do envision him in a mostly empty apartment with only a bed and a bathroom, though.

There's a delicate touch to where a rough man lives; the smell is almost heavenly when they enter the house. It's homely, the scent of newly washed sheets and lingering smell of food; there's a cat perched on the living room table that Ghost scratches the head of lovingly in a way that's so casual and natural. It's like they're at the gates of–

"Simon!" Heaven's bells ring in their ears, luring them into the doorway of the living room, and the sound of feet padding against the cold floor. There comes a soft-looking thing running into Ghost's arms, completely engulfing you.

You only notice the three familiar faces of your boyfriend's team members – though you know he considers them family if anything – when you pull away. An angel clad in only a cami top, shorts, and Simon's hand around your waist, you turn to look at the group with a surprised look on your pretty – Soap thinks that God, you're so pretty – face. "Oh, hi," you smile sweetly, obviously awkward at the silence and the staring.

"It's been a while," Ever the gentleman, the gruff voice is the first to speak up with your name uttered, the only who's actually met you – John Price. Soap is too enamored with the way you hold yourself and the fact that, holy fuck, even your name's pretty. Gaz raises a brow at the captain's greeting.

You smile once more – a genuine one now. "Nice to see you again, John."

"'S rude to stare, Johnny." Simon speaks out, a smirk under the mask. "Please excuse him, miss," Gaz adds, this beautiful man, and offers a charming smile.

"You must be Gaz," you hold your hand out, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Kyle forgets that a hand could be this soft and gentle, "and please, call me Kyle." He barely stops himself from turning your hand in his to kiss the back of it like one should to a lady so fair; his lieutenant has good taste in women, he'll give him that. And when you're out of the area, Soap is sure to rub it in Gaz's face. I told ye so! LT wis hidin' somethin' from us. A pretty something, that is. You don't miss the way he slips a twenty-dollar bill into the Scottish man's hand.

"Glad tae meet ye," Soap finally says, winking. "Understand why he wis hidin' a bonnie lass like ye from us." There's a mischievous glint in his eye, almost naturally so.

"A'm hurt, LT, but whit can I do? After all, we're just a couple o' brutes, arenae we?"

Simon watches in amusement, "you'll live." Soap is quick to move to your side as you lead the small group of hulking men through your shared home after that.

Simon is visibly more relaxed with you around. He's comfortable, that much is a given, with the way he's taking up most of the thankfully large couch with his manspreading. So is the 141. They're pampered like spoiled children (or pets, really) through the whole day.

Instead of just beer and faucet water, they're offered a variety of drinks in the kitchen that's enough to be considered a private bar. Instead of an empty belly unhealthily stuffed with beer and a mix of mediocre takeout, they're met with warm homecooked meals. They lose track of time quickly; the night falls by the time they've tired themselves out, and they've had not one, but two meals thanks to you.

(They're sure to commend your cooking skills and think of how lucky this tall brute of a man is blessed with a woman so soft and pliant and wonderful and– while Price is the one to be the most grateful, Soap compliments you the most. "A can practically taste the love." You laugh in turn.)

Gaz is the first to speak after a meal so lovely, they could simply just sleep on the floor comfortably and wake to the same smell of home. "It's a bit late, love, we should probably go."

"Thank you for having us," Price smiles down at you kindly.

"Ye've been lovely, bonnie." He wants to stay some more.

"Wait," you stop them, looking up at Simon for further approval. He's already looking at you with a reassuring brush of his thumb on the side of your hip and a nod. You turn your eyes back at them. "It's already late, you three should stay the night. We have enough room for everyone."

There comes, "we don't wanna intrude," then, "we can take care of ourselves, it's alright."

"Please, I insist." Your smile brightens, "I'll even cook breakfast before you leave."

The mohawk moves with a sigh, "now tha's just no' fair, lass. How are we gonna say no tae that?" You giggle. Only then do they find themselves tucked away in the guest room, and boy, you were right when you said it could fit them all if not more.

On the way to the bathroom in the late hours of the night, Soap catches a glimpse of light through the crack of your bedroom door to see his oh-so strong lieutenant, vulnerable in your arms. There's something natural about the way you cradle the large man and kiss his hair like it's part of your DNA, like you're programmed to do that 'cause Soap thinks you're simply unreal.

He's proud of his lieutenant, this lucky bastard. He turns another blind eye once more, but he's paid in full with another fulfilling meal by the morning.

[back2bluesidex]

We Need Practice - JJK (18+)

A Sequel to Novice.

Pairing: Pornstar!Jungkook X Fem!Reader

Theme: Fluff, smut

Wordcount: 2.1k+

Summary: Jungkook wants you to ride him and you are too bad at that.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, messy cock riding, cumming all over body, they are down bad for each other, more fluff than I intended to have, confessions. NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

Masterlist | Patreon

“Don’t judge a book by its cover” 

You have heard this phrase for thousands of times in your entire lifetime but you have hardly had any chance of actually implying the same in your life. 

But then you met Jungkook and you understood how true that one sentence can be. 

Jeon Jungkook is the text-book definition of what those cliched bad-boys or fuckboys would look like. 

With a hand full of tattoos, silver rings dangling from piercings, impressively structured body and a small waist that could rival female models, he really looks like someone who would be fucking people and putting on a show out of it. 

And that is exactly what he does. 

Pornstar Jeon Jungkook is actually very notorious. 

But Jeon Jungkook as a person is a completely different story. 

After that one encounter at that porn movie set, he asked for your number and you complied with his request thinking of he could give you some of the best fucks of your life (not that you have had many fucks to brag about in the first place). 

If you are being honest, then you never expected him to be the sweetheart that he actually is. Since the day you two exchanged numbers, he never once asked if he could come over during god-forbidden hours of night. He never once asked for your nude pictures, neither did he ever force you to meet him. 

Rather he sends you funny dog videos, funny tik tok clips and asks you how was your day. And you can’t lie about the fact that your heart has already started acting strange, like it flutters everytime Jungkook’s name glows on your dark phone screen. 

It’s been more than a month since you have been chatting regularly and now you are getting a little impatient. 

As much as you appreciate his good-boy vibes, you would like to see him again, touch him again. 

So you do what you have been thinking of doing for more than a week now. 

“Sleeping?” you hit send, praying to the universe that he doesn’t find you a desperate bitch for what you are going to do. 

The clock reads 2:15 am already, and just then his reply arrives, “nah. Can’t sleep. What about you?” 

“Me too. Can’t sleep.” 

You take a deep breath before typing the next message, “do you wanna hangout?” 

Just when you are about to add “at my place” to complete your proposition, his reply hits your screen, “Send me your address. And wear something warm before I ask you to come out.” 

Wait. is he? Taking you out? 

Even though you were trying to ask for sex but this option feels even better to be honest. 

So you send him your address and he texts you that he will be there within 10 minutes. Wearing your gray padding, you wait for him to arrive at your place. 

Another positive point about Jeon Jungkook is that he is punctual. You might even call him a green flag because your phone dings with a “I am here” text right on 2:27 am. 

The scene that unfolds in front of you once you come out of your apartment, almost leaves your jaw hanging mid air. 

Jungkook has arrived with a bike, dressed in complete black. If you drooled a little at the sight then you would never admit that. 

Once he sees you awkwardly walking towards him, he takes off his helmet and welcomes you with one of his infamous bunny smiles. 

Your heart does a little flip inside your chest. 

His big doe eyes shine amid the darkness as if those are made of some priceless stone. At this moment it’s really tough to believe that he is a pornstar, who fucks people on camera to earn a living. 

“Hey. you look beautiful.” he greets you with a compliment when you come close to him. 

“You look even more handsome today.” you return his compliment genuinely. And at that, the tip of his ears turn red. 

“Ah thanks.” he replies shyly as he hands you a helmet. And gestures to you to mount his fancy bike. 

You take the helmet, slip that on your head and hold him by his shoulders to climb on his bike. 

Once you have settled, he revves the engine. 

“Hold me tightly” he says briefly before setting the bike in motion. You wrap your arms around his waist and hold him just as he asked you to. 

The deserted road, the trees whooshing by, the buildings that look peaceful, everything feels so beautiful. 

Maybe it’s because of the hour or maybe it’s because you are with someone you like. 

The bike comes to a halt at a crossing and you slide up the windshield of your helmet, “where are we going?” 

He looks at you through the mirror, slides his own windshield up and gives you another sickening smile, but doesn’t say anything. 

5 more minutes later he parks the bike beside a huge lake. 

It looks like a secluded area. The lake is mostly hidden amid big trees and surrounded by fishing spots and some benches. 

Jungkook spreads his hand before you once you both are standing side by side. 

You take the cue and place your hand on his. He intertwines his fingers with yours and you start blushing. Thanks to the darkness, he wouldn’t be able to witness it. 

Once you are sitting on a bench, Jungkook starts, “I often come here to fish with my hyungs. This is my first time coming here with a woman.” 

When you look at him, you find him already staring at you, “Really? You look like the type to have a lot of girlfriends, you know?” 

“Is it because of my profession?” there is a hint of sadness in his eyes. 

So you press on his hand, which is still intertwined with yours and say, “no. not because of that. It’s just that you are generally very attractive and charming, Jungkook.” 

His face brightens up with a beautiful smile, “Too bad, I was about to say the same about you. But you snatched my words.” 

Your eyes widen at his compliment, “You find me attractive?” 

“Why? Why are you so surprised? Is it wrong to find someone attractive?” he giggles, staring deep into your eyes. 

“No. Th-that’s not what I meant. I mean, you know, you work with far more attractive women than me. So.. it’s kind of unlikely actually.” you fumble with your words. 

Jungkook chuckles at your explanation, “they are just colleagues, Y/N. Just like any other profession, we have a strict business relationship. And honestly, they are not even my type. You, on the other hand, fit perfectly into the category of women I would love to date.” 

Your eyes go even wider at his confession, “you.. You want to date me?” 

“If you let me. If you trust me despite the nature of my profession… I would love to make you mine.” Jungkook breathes slowly, his eyes drop down to your lips. 

Before you can voice your answer, your intrusive thoughts win and you reach up, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“I think I would love it too.” 

And then you find yourself being pulled by the back of your neck as Jungkook crashes his lips on yours. It’s passionate, it’s overwhelming, it’s so beautiful and you never felt anything close to this. 

He licks the seam of your lower lip asking you to grant him permission, you let him inside your mouth. 

His tongue probes into your mouth testing each corner, you moan into his mouth. His other hand wraps around your waist pulling you even closer. 

And then you feel one, two, three and then multiple drops of rain falling on you two. 

He detaches his lips from yours, “fuck. It’s raining.” 

“Let’s go back to my place.” you reply, trying to cover your heads with your hands. 

It’s been one of your bucket list wishes to ride a bike in the rain with the person you love and probably it’s going to come true today. 

You hold him tightly, pressing your chest on his back, not in a sexual, but in a loving manner. It starts raining heavily within a few minutes, and Jungkook quickens his speed to reach your destination as soon as possible. 

“Where are you going?” you place your question, seeing Jungkook putting on his helmet again after dropping in front of your apartment entrance. 

Even though the rain has turned into drizzle now, it still can be quite dangerous to drive a bike in this weather.  

“Home. Where else?” he adds a little sheepishly. 

“Jungkook, it’s still raining. I don’t think it’s any wiser to go home now, you’re drenched on top of that. Come inside. You can leave after the sunrise. If you want.. I mean.” you propose, he seems to think for a bit. 

“I don’t think I should go inside, Y/N.” Jungkook looks at the ground as if it’s more interesting than your face. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” you are truly confused now. 

“I might not be able to control myself…” his voice fades by the time he manages to end the sentence. 

“Did I say I want you to control?” you bite your lip, hoping that you don’t appear to be too desperate to him. 

His eyes go wider inside his bulky helmet. 

Jungkook pushes your naked body on the mattress. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking of how good you felt that day.” He groans while biting down on the skin of your neck. 

Your hands roam around the smooth skin of his back. Everytime you scratch his back, he moans a little. 

“So pretty, so delicate, so perfect for me.” Jungkook groans again. 

One of his hands reaches down, finding your clit within a moment. It’s as if he has studied the map of your body with earnest interest. 

Drawing tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, he pulls out melodic moans out of your throat. 

“Jun-jungkook mmm..” you moan again. 

“Yes baby. Say my name again.” he urges you while entering your heat with his middle finger. His digit plunges inside you, making you see stars indoors. 

“Jungko- I’m close” you manage to voice somehow. And as soon as those words fly out of your mouth, he empties you. 

You look at him being dumbfounded. He smirks at you, knowing what exactly he has done. 

“I want you to cum on my cock. I am hard as hell, baby.” he confesses blatantly. 

Just when you are about to hold him, he flips you around. So, now you are sitting on his thighs.  

“I want you to ride me.” he adds a little breathlessly. And you almost choke on your own spit. 

“What? I-I don’t..” 

“I will guide you, Y/N.” he cuts you off. 

He helps you in taking off his slacks along with his underwear. Once he is naked, he holds you by your waist and lines your entrance along with his cock. 

“Are you ready?” he asks briefly. You nod in affirmation. And then he is sliding you down his length. 

At first his length is overwhelming but you adjust fast. 

“You should move now.” Jungkook’s voice is laced with lust, his eyes are hazy, making him look even more attractive than he already is. 

You honestly have no idea how to move. So you try to implement your visual experience. However, it’s tough once you start bouncing on his cock. Even though Jungkook is guiding you well, you are messy regardless. 

Your moves and Jungkook’s thrusts don’t match at all and the experience is nothing like that day. 

You really are a novice. 

Even though the friction is delicious for you, Jungkook’s expression tells that he is very underwhelmed. So, you start trying your best. With a few more bounces, you cum all over his cock, creaming it perfectly. 

As soon as you are done, Jungkook flips you around again. He slips out of you and starts playing himself. 

Even though you are in your post-orgasm haze, it’s embarrassing for you. You couldn’t help him finish and he had to take the charge himself. 

With a few more pumps, he cums all over your body. Starting from your face, to your stomach, everything gets creamed in his white hot seed. 

And it’s hot. He is hot. And you are pathetic. 

“I-I’m sorry. I know it was bad.” you manage to voice once Jungkook is done with himself. 

“You are not bad, baby. We just need more practice together.” and then he is sealing his lips with yours again. 

You certainly need more practice with him. 

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie

[maruflix]

  — ★ 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓. (𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄-𝐁)

☆ — “AAH, NOW I KINDA WANT TO SEE MY NAME TATTOOED ON YOU. WANNA DO THAT FOR ME, BABE?”

SYNOPSIS: They may be unassuming, but they’re plenty scary. There’s just one who can make them bend. FEATURING: Suo Hayato, Kiryu Mitsuki, Hiragi Toma, Kaji Ren, Endo Yamato x f!reader

Read the FIRST PART with Umemiya Hajime, Sakura Haruka, Tomiyama Choji, Togame Jo, and Takiishi Chika here!

SUO HAYATO

No one has ever one-upped Suo Hayato.

He has always showed up with his clothes ironed and pressed, hair neatly combed handsomely, exuding an aura so effortlessly calm and gentle. But everyone knows that someone with such an even temper is usually the most dangerous person in the room, and no one has ever dared to mess with the sharp tongued boy.

To his friends, though, he’s more like a playful sibling, always teasing everyone with a smile on his face. In an act of revenge, most of his friends have tried to tease him back, only to fail miserably. Nothing has ever managed to fluster Suo Hayato, not even when he showed up to Café Pothos hand in hand with you.

He’s unaffected by the disbelieving stares he got from his friends, ushering you to sit down before he takes his own seat next to you, immediately holding your hand again in a naturally swift motion that causes you to blush.

“What?! Who?!” Sakura chokes out, and you feel a bit worried for the boy because of how red his face is starting to get.

“Ah, everyone, meet my girlfriend.”

Suo breaks the news like he’s telling everyone what he ate last night. Even his friends are more flustered than he is, but they tried hard to make you feel comfortable by quickly including you in the conversation, asking you questions about your relationship with Suo. Thanks to your friendly nature, they seem to grow comfortable around you fairly quickly, all of you chatting and laughing away while eating. All the while, your boyfriend is watching the scene unfold serenely, drinking tea like a nobleman.

“So, who asked the other one out?” Comes the question from Kiryu who is now invested in your stories. His friends nod enthusiastically next to him, curious about the answer as well.

“Me, of course.” Suo answers coolly.

“Was he nervous during the whole thing?” Nirei unknowingly leans closer, gripping his little notebook with one hand and a pencil on the other.

“Yes! He was so cute!” Your reply elicits gasps of disbelief all around the table, and your boyfriend tilts his head to you, smiling.

“Was I? I don’t think I was nervous at all, though?” His friends are now unsure who to believe. Surely you wouldn’t lie, but they just can’t picture Suo being nervous. With his effortlessly suave personality, surely he would be like a casanova..?

You raise an eyebrow. “Huh? But you totally were! Don’t you remember blushing after I kissed you like this?” Leaning closer, you peck him in the cheek sweetly, letting your lips linger a few moments longer before pulling away. 

Everyone can tell that he’s trying to keep up his calm facade, but the twitch on his lips and the way warmth starts to spread on his cheeks are proof that he definitely didn’t expect you to do that in front of his friends. He opens his mouth to defend himself, but all that comes out is a choked “I-I-” before he is stunned back into silence.

You smile as Kiryu breaks into laughter, followed by Sakura, Nirei, and Tsugeura. The Suo Hayato, Mr. Not-A-Single-Hair-Out-Of-Place even after beating up miscreants, is now running a hand through his hair, trying to hide his blush with a stupid smile plastered on his lips.

KIRYU MITSUKI

Kiryu Mitsuki is a natural charmer, that much is clear. He’s the kind of guy who takes care of his appearance and has a gentle disposition, which makes him popular with the girls. He’s also good at fighting, and no girls can resist that kind of guy.

So when he asks you out, it feels like a dream.

You worry about whether he finds you attractive or not. Sure, he literally asked you to be his girlfriend, but you can’t help feeling self-conscious when your boyfriend is every girls’ type.

You mention this casually to Suo and Tsugeura when your boyfriend went to use the restroom with Sakura and Nirei, but the two boys only laugh. “Really, you have nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing.” Suo says with a knowing smile, “I take it you’ve never seen his phone, then?” You shake your head no, his words leaving you even more puzzled.

Tsugeura adds to the mystery by nodding his head to what his friend said. “You’re really pretty! I’m sure Kiryu thinks the same way.” When you question him how he’s so sure about it, he answers with a “I just know.”

“Hey, rather than torturing yourself over it, why don’t you pay attention to his phone?”

That is the last hint Suo left you, and now you are walking home with your boyfriend next to you. You steal glances at him. Should you really take a look at his phone? But what’s in there anyway?

Kiryu notices you staring at him. “Hmm? Are you cold?” He slips his jacket from his arms and throws it over your shoulders, effectively warming both your body and your face.

You blush furiously as he chuckles at your flustered state. “T-Thank you, Mitsuki-kun..” Okay, this is not bad, although you’re still curious about his phone. Glancing over to him again, you try to find where he keeps his phone.

Once again, he notices you staring and mistakes it for another thing. “Oh, sorry. Do you want to hold hands?” He smiles, not waiting for a reply as he reaches for your hand and gently holds it.

You blush again. The universe must’ve heard your plea because his phone suddenly beeps. He takes it out of his pocket mindlessly, unaware that you instantly hyper-focused on the gadget, carefully eyeing it. What the heck is on his phone?

His screen lights up and your breath immediately gets caught in your throat. His wallpaper is a picture of you… but it’s a picture you’ve never seen before. It’s a picture of you writing something in full concentration taken from the front and totally without your knowledge. It’s edited, too, with heart emojis around your face and squiggly doodles adorning the sides of the photo. A neat “mine” is scribbled on the bottom right in Kiryu’s handwriting. 

You snuggle up to him and a clueless Kiryu smiles, releasing your hand to drape an arm around your shoulder, bringing you close.

HIRAGI TOMA

Hiragi can’t help the way his face looks. You’ve told him many times that he needs to relax and take it easy, but how can he ‘take it easy’ when he needs to babysit the entirety of Bofurin, including the leader himself?

His anxiety skyrockets with the arrival of the troublemakers (aka the new first years) and now he’s too nervous to be wearing any other expression than the one that’s on his face right now: eyebrows knitted, lips pursed in a thin line, eyes narrowed. He’s always been a scary guy, but now he looks scarier. Even the biggest troublemaker, Sakura, is trembling a bit.

After giving him an earful, Hiragi gulps a pill down his throat before sauntering his way to you. He sighs and sinks next to you as your hand automatically makes its way to his hair. You play with them, feeling your boyfriend turn putty in your hands as he sinks more into your touch.

“Toma-kun, don’t be too harsh on them~”

“What, are you their mom now?” Hiragi gruffly replies, but he’s not at all intimidating when he practically has his head on your shoulder now.

“I guess so!” You giggle, “We can be their parents. I mean, you act like their dad already.”

He blushes at your comment and is about to say something when Sakura and Suo spot him. He instantly jolts back to a sitting position, blushing to the tips of his ears as if he’s been caught doing something embarrassing.

You chuckle, knowing that he’s too late. You can tell his underclassmen have already seen the public display of affection by the way one of them is blushing and the other one is grinning from ear to ear.

“W-What?!” He barks once they’re close enough.

Suo hands him his phone, still with a grin on his face, as Hiragi quickly takes it from him. He’s terrified when you start patting his head again and the two boys’ responses grow in exaggeration. 

After weighing his options, though, he decides that your touch yields more benefit, so he leans back into you, ignoring the rest of the troublemaking first years who are now starting to gather around his table.

KAJI REN

Kaji Ren tries not to be an emotional person. Oftentimes he succeeds in doing so as his friends know him as a calm, responsible guy they can lean on in times of need. He genuinely thought that he’s been getting better at keeping his emotions in check. But of course, he has his slip ups. He has a list of the things he absolutely loathes, and one of them is people who mess with his stuff. Another one is people who ask him to do trivial shit. Oh, there’s another good one: vague people who don’t tell him outright what they want and beat around the bush.

Try as he may, he usually ends up glaring daggers at the idiot who bothers him with the things above, frightening enough to make them run.

“Ren-kun, I forgot my earphones at home..”

A simple pout is all that it took for Kaji to remove his headphones and place it on your ears before opening his phone and switching the song that is currently playing to the one he knows you like. You smile and thank him, head bobbing to the music.

After a few minutes of walking in comfortable silence, you tug at the sleeves of his hoodie, making him pause in his tracks and turn to look at you. “I’m cold.” You grin sheepishly. Kaji sighs but takes off his hoodie anyway, pulling it over his head before putting it on you. You fiddle with the long sleeves of his hoodie before placing his headphones back on your ears, your body now enveloped with the scent of your boyfriend’s cologne.

Momentarily satisfied, the two of you continue walking. You’re now humming along to the song, your arms swinging with every step you take, as Kaji matches your pace, now only dressed in his shirt and pants. The heat is stinging his skin and the noisy drones of the cicadas are buzzing in his ears, but he pays it no mind, his face relaxing upon seeing your happy state.

But you stop walking again, now holding out your hand. “Ren-kun.”

Kaji doesn’t even miss a step, taking your hand in his as you immediately resume walking, a happy smile on your face. You touch his shoulder with your head, a simple gesture of affection, and he returns it by softly kissing the top of your head, making you giggle in delight.

All is well in Kaji’s world.

(Behind the two of you, Hiragi and Umemiya are gawking at the sight. Next to them, Kusumi and Enomoto are unaffected, already used to their captain and his girlfriend’s dynamics by now.)

ENDO YAMATO

People often ask you why you’re even with Endo Yamato. Sure, he’s hot, but that hardly makes up for his shitty personality. They think you’re pressured into dating him, or manipulated by him. No matter how much you explain it, they already have their prejudices, so you cease to care. They have no idea that Endo is anything but shitty when he’s with you.

“Babe, baby, baaaa-beeeeeyy, look at what I got~”

Your face instantly brightens up when you see Endo walking your way, waving his arms cheerfully. You wait until he’s close enough to engulf you in a bear hug, placing small kisses on your forehead before he lets go, satisfied.

“What did you get?”

He grins. The next thing you know, his hand is in front of your face. You squint in confusion before noticing something. Your name.

Your name, inked around his ring finger.

“You did not—!” Shocked, you cover your mouth with your hands, a blush creeping its way to your cheeks.

“I did.” Endo shrugs, “Aw, are you shy?” He tries to pry away your hands, “It’s proof that I love you~”

“You’re so dumb!” But the twinkle in your eyes betrays you. “Doesn’t it hurt? Why didn’t you get it somewhere else?”

Both of you pause, with Endo raking his gaze all over his body. “Well…. I tried almost every spot, but.. Wait. Don’t tell me you didn’t realize it.” He deadpans, placing his hands on his hips.

“Huh? Realize what?” You parrot back, confused.

“This!” He gestures to his neck in exasperation. “Realize this!”

Once again, you squint.

“Helloo? My infinity symbol?”

You tilt your head.

Endo slaps his forehead. “It symbolizes eternal love, you doofus. Man, I did this for you and you didn’t even realize it? This is truly the downside of being infatuated.”

“Oh!” You finally understand that he’s gesturing at the infinity symbol tattooed on his neck, “I thought that was for… you know, for Takiishi-kun.”

Endo narrows his eyes as your gaze trails down to the ground. After a moment’s silence, you feel a finger under your chin, forcing it up to meet your boyfriend’s burning gaze. “Hey. I dare you to say that again.”

You purse your lips, but this is just the beginning of Endo’s rant.

“How many times should I tell you? He might be my muse, but you?” He hungrily kisses you, using his free hand to hold the back of your head and pull you closer to him. When he pulls away, he stares at you with his blue eyes, as if daring you to challenge his love again. “You’re my goddess.”

And now, looking at him; eyes impossibly gentle, lips slightly parting open and close to catch his breath, his hand lodged around your head, your name around his ring finger and the infinite love painted on his neck—

“Aah, now I kinda want to see my name tattooed on you. Wanna do that for me, babe?”

You might just believe him.

NOTES : Hello my loves, come get your daily dose of Wind Breaker fluff. This is the last part of my Weak Spot series :-) I also expanded on the Endo ask I got in my inbox here because it just fits :-D TAGLIST: @kaiser1ns

[charliemwrites]

Part 4

Mister(s) Steal Your Girl is, somehow, now the official title. Congratulations you little shits (affectionate).

Content: Toxic Behavior, Brief Weight Shaming, Hurt/Comfort

You didn’t expect to see Johnny much after that one night - or possibly ever again. Kyle introduced you two, it was a lot of fun, but you figure that’ll be the end of it. Like introducing a new man to your girlfriends (not that you can really introduce Kyle to yours) you passed the vibe check and now Kyle will keep you and Johnny separate.

That’s how it’s been with Brandon’s friends. (Granted, you don’t really care for Brandon’s friends. And you figure it’s mutual based on the “uptight” comments they pretended to think you couldn’t hear.)

You’re starting to realize that Kyle is always going to subvert your expectations.

Johnny becomes a fixture - a welcome one. While you and Kyle still have your date nights and privacy, Johnny joins you two at least once a week for movies, drinks, dinner, or just silly adventures out and about.

You’re surprised that you don’t mind. Johnny is fantastic company, always respectful, funny, and friendly. Whenever the two of you are left alone, there’s no dead air. In fact, sometimes you could almost swear there’s electricity. Which is… well. It makes it hard to look him in the eye sometimes - and looking at Kyle even harder.

Guilt nips at your stomach until one of them distracts you with another story you’re 70% sure they shouldn’t tell you.

You and Johnny play a game with pub napkins, doodling something on one folded half, then passing it over for the other to scribble on the second half. The trick is not cheating and seeing the first half, then unfolding it to a complete (and usually silly) picture. Gaz always gets to name whatever monstrosity has been created.

You get a month of that good company. Then Kyle sighs at his phone one night.

“Shipping out again,” he explains when you glance at him.

“Will you be gone long?” you ask, shifting.

His brow furrows. “Not sure. They can’t tell us much over the phone.”

You hum in understanding. Still new to this whole military thing, the redacted danger of it all, but you think you’re getting the hang of it. At least, Kyle never seems annoyed when he can’t answer you, only apologetic.

“Is it gonna be the whole team?” you ask.

“Nah, just me and the cap.” He rubs his palm along your calf, a gesture that you suspect is self-soothing rather than for your benefit. “Probably not too dangerous, then.”

You make a noise of protest, nudging at his thigh with your foot. “Bad luck!”

“Sorry, sorry!” he chuckles, tapping his knuckles on the wooden end table. “You’re right.”

You crawl from your side of the couch to his, nuzzling up under his arm. He trails kisses along the side of your face as you snuggle in.

“I’ll miss you,” you mumble into his neck. Still a little embarrassed to be so needy, but you want him to feel appreciated.

“I’ll miss you too, chickadee. I’ll call if I can, yeah?”

You hum in agreement, squeezing an arm around his middle.

“While I’m gone, if you need anything - even some company - you ought to call Soap,” he adds.

The idea is tempting but… “I don’t want to bother him.”

“I promise you won’t,” he laughs. You don’t know what’s so funny, but hearing his voice rumble in his chest like this is always a treat.

“Maybe,” you allow.

“We’ll take it.” Before you can ask what that means, he loops an arm around your waist and scoops you into his lap. “Now then, about my send off.”

Your giggle turns into a moan as his mouth slants over yours.

Kyle’s only been gone three days. You’ve occupied yourself with cleaning up the flat you share with Brandon. Dust has been collecting since you’ve been out and about so much - and god knows Brandon hardly does more than load the dishwasher. Besides, a good bit of spring cleaning is a pleasant enough distraction, humming as you toss out old things to make more room for the new stuff you’ve been collecting.

“Good to see you getting back to normal,” Brandon says cheerfully. You glance up from the laundry you’re folding. He continues, “I was worried with how behind you got on things, but I knew you just needed some time. I told you this would be better for us both.”

You try not to let that sting. Even if things are better now, and continuing to get better, you can’t forget the pain that lingers from the beginning.

“Tell you what,” he adds, hands in his pockets. “When you finish cleaning up, I’ll take you out to the pub, yeah? Put on something pretty.”

You perk up, pleasantly surprised, though hesitant.

“We could leave earlier if you helped,” you point out, hoping for more than just dinner. “Maybe we could walk in the park or something before eating.”

He gives you a weak smile. One you recognize more than his real one by now. It’s almost apologetic, but not quite.

“I would but I’m bloody exhausted from this week, ya know? Big projects coming up at work.”

Your smile freezes. “And some late nights, I’m sure,” you try to joke.

He doesn’t laugh like you expect, but gives you an odd look. “Why would you say something like that?”

Baffled, you shrug. He shakes his head.

“I’m going to take a nap, come wake me up when you’re ready to go.”

You manage to finish the majority of your to-do list by 5. Shower, get dressed, do your hair and makeup with Brandon snoring in the background until 6. By then, he still hasn’t woken up from his nap, so you perch on the edge of the bed and gently nudge at him until he stirs.

“I’m ready to go, babe,” you murmur.

He scrunches up his face - you spare an affectionate thought for how cute it is. You’ve always found it cute.

“Five more minutes,” he grumbles.

You laugh a little. “It’s getting late, we should probably head out.”

He groans. “Five. Minutes.”

You huff in amusement and reach for his phone to set an alarm, but pause at all the notifications from dating apps crowding his screen. There are… a lot. And as you’re looking, a new message pops up, just labeled “blonde” with a peach emoji. Gross.

You set the alarm and slip away to the living room.

It takes him another half hour to finally rouse, shuffling into the living room with a groan.

“C’mon,” he yawns. “It’s going to be bloody crowded by now.”

You follow him quietly to the car, knowing he’s not chatty when he’s just woken up. Hunger only adds to his mood; you can practically see a cloud forming over his head. By the time he pulls up to the pub, he’s downright grumpy. He grumbles about shit parking, and the milling people outside. It looks busy.

“We could go somewhere else?” you suggest.

“This is fine,” he says.

He parks a block away and starts at a swift pace. You try to hold his hand, but halfway there, he pulls away to check his phone and doesn’t take it again.

Surprisingly, it’s only a twenty minute wait for a table - but Brandon sneers something like “of course it is” under his breath. You smile apologetically at the hostess and usher him away.

He doesn’t talk during the wait, at first. Until suddenly he blurts. “We wouldn’t have to wait if you’d woken me up.”

You blink at him. “I did. You asked for five more minutes.”

“Well, why didn’t you wake me up then?”

“I set an alarm?”

You don’t know why he’s so irritated, just that he seems tired and hungry.

“You know I don’t listen to alarms,” he complains, scowling at the sidewalk.

“Okay… I’ll wake you up next time,” you offer.

“Yeah, next time.”

Thankfully, the two of you are called a little early. The pub is indeed loud and crowded, and you’re definitely overdressed. But at least you know what you want - Brandon’s taken you here a million times before.

Wisely, you wait until he’s downed the texmex rolls before trying for conversation again. He hums along as you talk about work, about the books you’ve been reading, about the new movie you saw last week. You think it’s going pretty well, catching up on each other’s lives, when he interrupts you mid-sentence.

“Where was this?”

You frown. “At the grocery store…?”

“You’re still on that? Thought we moved on from that story.”

You don’t bother finishing it, just ask him about his work. It’s like pulling teeth. A lot of “good” and “busy” and “same as usual.” By the time your entree comes, you’ve given up, not sure if you want to cry or just walk away to see if he even notices. He keeps checking his phone. Your fingers twitch to text Kyle, but you don’t want to bother him while he’s working.

The end of dinner can’t come sooner. You decline dessert when the server asks.

“Probably for the better,” Brandon tells you lowly when they’re gone to get the check. “I think you’ve put on a bit of weight. You know how you get.”

You probably have - Kyle has a sweet tooth and practically begs you to split desserts with him. Johnny’s shares his food with you now too, grinning when you express approval for whatever high-protein dish he’s picked and shoving more at you.

As for “how you get”… Brandon’s mentioned in the past when you were heavier that you get mopey, aren’t much fun to be around.

(A small part of you wonders how that would even effect him at this point. He doesn’t spend enough time around you to notice if you’re mopey. Is that why tonight has been such a disaster…?)

You just collect your purse and lead the way out of the pub. It’s a quiet walk back to the car, even though Brandon seems to be in a better mood. He’s still texting, nearly bumps into an elderly couple along the way.

Back at the apartment, he runs his hand down your side, tugs at the lace hem of your shirt.

“Careful,” you chide.

He sucks his teeth and drops his hand. “I’m just trying to be playful.”

“I know, but I like this shirt.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’ve got three just like it.”

You don’t answer, know it’ll lead to more useless bickering. Just tug the stupid thing over your head, ready to go to bed.

“Hey now, that’s more like it,” he drawls, fingertips running down your spine.

You jump, surprised, but play it off that his hands are cold. He makes some crass comment about warming them up, reaching for your breasts, and your stomach churns.

“I-I think I ate something bad,” you lie, all but sprinting for the bathroom.

You close the door behind you - but don’t lock it. Just sit on the floor, the wall cold against your back, while you try to breathe through your spinning, conflicting thoughts.

He’s finally giving you attention, affection. Why aren’t you jumping at this opportunity to spend time with him? Not long ago, you would have been weeping with joy to have an iota of your normal relationship back. Maybe you really did eat something bad.

“Hey,” Brandon calls through the door, “I’m gonna stay somewhere else tonight.”

You stare at the blank white wood, aghast. “But I’m sick.”

“It’s not like I can do much, is there? Except listen to you be sick all night,” he reasons. “And who knows. Maybe it wasn’t something you ate. Maybe it’s contagious. I don’t want to spend the weekend ill.”

Your eyes burn. He didn’t even open the door to check. “Yeah,” you agree, voice robotic, “you’re right.”

Not even five minutes later, you hear the front door close. That almost, almost does you in. You manage to keep your lackluster dinner down, but not the tears.

You let yourself be pathetic for a few minutes, crying into your arms, folded over your knees. When you finally manage to get yourself together, it’s not Brandon you ache for. It’s Kyle. It’s not possible, you know. You just don’t want to be alone even though the nausea is dissipating.

Sighing, you remove your ruined makeup and wash your face, climb into one of Kyle’s jumpers. At least it still smells like him. It’s only as you’re trying to decide on a comfort show, huddled into a ball on the couch, that you remember his advice.

It takes all of fifteen seconds of debate before you scramble for your phone.

I know it’s late, but are you free, you text Johnny.

A response comes almost immediately.

Always for you, lass. You bite your lip on a tiny smile, already feeling better. Your phone buzzes again. What’s up?

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment as you figure out what to ask - then how to ask it.

Would you want to come to mine for movies? I don’t feel good…

He answers instantly again. Ice cream not-good or Theraflu not-good?

You sniffle when you remember that being sick was a dealbreaker for your night with Brandon.

Ice cream not-good, you reply.

Say no more, hen. Be there in fifteen. Pick a good one.

You watch TikTok’s until there’s a knock at the door. Upon answering, you’re swept up in a bear hug that lifts you off your socked feet.

“Johnny!” you cry, laughing a bit in shock.

“There she is!” he crows, swinging you around. “Been missin’ my best girl!”

You tell yourself the thrill in your stomach is just from him setting you down. (It’s a harder sell when it happens again seeing his wide smile and warm blue eyes.)

“You're ridiculous,” you huff, “I’m not your best girl.”

He arches his eyebrows. “Oh, yer keepin’ track, are ye?”

“C’mon, you must have a partner or something?” you prod as you usher him inside.

“Kyle must’ve told ye, hen, it’s hard in this line of work,” he explains, shrugging. “Tried before but… usually they just end up feeling neglected, ya ken.”

You hum. That’s why Kyle said you and he would work so well with the open relationship - that you’d still have someone at home while he was out. That you wouldn’t be alone if something happened to him.

“Anyway, this is no kinda talk for a cozy night in, now is it?” Johnny says, cutting your melancholy musing short. “Come look at what I brought ya!”

You only notice then the two grocery bags in one hand. He herds you to the couch and sets them on the coffee table for you to root through.

“My favorite!” You exclaim when you extract the tub of ice cream.

The grin Johnny shoots you is proud. “Kyle said so.”

“You two,” you sigh happily.

He’s also brought a squishy stuffed animal, crisps, popcorn, soda, candy, and a small collection of self-care items. You hold the face-masks up with a questioning smile.

“Heard somewhere that it’s good for ye, when yer feelin’ down.” You try not to giggle when the last word comes out sounding like “doon.” He continues, blissfully ignorant. “Hope that’s the right shite, there was a lot to choose from.”

You throw your arms around him, chest warm. “Thank you, this is perfect, Johnny.”

He circles his arm around your waist, holding you close. “Anytime, bonnie,” he murmurs into your hair.

You squeeze his shoulders as you pull away, waving one of the mask packets with a wicked little smile.

“Wanna try this ‘shite’ with me?” you tease.

You expect a resounding and masculine-heavy no. Instead, Johnny tilts his head consideringly for a moment, then shrugs.

“Eh, why the hell not?”

You wake up the next morning to a mess of candy wrappers, discarded moisturizers, and an empty carton of ice cream. And the smell of eggs. Cartoons are playing quietly on the telly. When you yawn and sit up, you’re greeted by a cheerful Johnny at the stove, wearing your pink apron.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he calls.

You flush and smile back, glad that you called him. “Mornin’!”

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Masterlist

[revasserium]

can i have one were zoro realises she does things bc of truama (like doesnt speak much etc)

hold me (still)

opla!zoro; 6,680 words; slow!!!!burn, fem!reader, ex-assassin!reader, straw hat!reader, general tragic backstory/trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, bit of angst, emotionally constipated zoro, communication? what's that?, nami playing therapist bc she's the only one with 1 iota of emotional intelligence

summary: sometimes, stillness is a virtue, and others -- a tragedy. or, in which the straw hats pick up a new member and zoro is equally intrigued and weirded out by you.

a/n: well. you guys asked for slow burn and... the burn is so slow u gotta squint to see the smoke yall. but trust. the burn does get there! pls be patient!! and i tried to combine 2 dif reqs in this one fic :)

You are of the quiet sort. Just a shadow dancing in the periphery of their vision, and when they first met you, you’d told them it was your superpower, a soft, still smile slipping across your lips. Luffy had bought into it immediately, and the invitation was out his mouth before anyone could stop him.

“Come with us!”

“Oh…” your lips pressed into a thin line of consideration.

Zoro’s fingers itched towards his swords because something about you makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But something else — something uncomfortable and strange, something very much like curiosity — seizes his chest and twists his stomach. Strange, he thinks, too strange.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

And then, you’d smiled wider, and nodded, and that had been that.

It’s been three months since then, and you are still of the quiet sort, though it had receded a bit with time. What with Sanji’s gentle flirting and Usopp’s not-so-gentle stories and Nami’s bright, dry-humored companionship, you’d begun to “open up a bit”, so Luffy observed.

Zoro, for his part, has kept his distance. Because sometimes he still catches you at the bow of the ship, staring out across the midnight waters, still as a stone-carved statue. Still as a wooden beam — stiller, even.

“What’s with that?” he asks one day, strolling up to Nami as she traces a fine line over a new map she’s working on.

“Hm?” is her very eloquent response.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth and casts his eyes about the ship, finding them drawn to the shape of you, up at the bow again, reading in the shade of the tangerine trees. Nothing moves except for the wind as it whisps through your hair and the slow scanning of your eyes as it skates across the page.

“New girl,” Zoro says, crossing his arms as Nami finally looks up at him and then off towards you.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Zoro lets out a puff of breath, unfolding his arms to glare at Nami. He finds her grinning a lopsided grin as she clicks shut her compass and puts down her pen. She leans a hip on the barrel she’d been drawing on and folds her own arms.

“Oh, you like her.”

“I’m weirded out by her. ‘S not the same thing,” Zoro snaps, but when he tries to leave, Nami blocks him with an arm and pins him with a sharp, leveling look.

“No, no, no — we’re gonna work this through.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Uh-uh, you still owe me after that round of drinks the other night — remember when you bet you could drink more than me?”

Zoro narrows his eyes, “I did drink more than you.”

Nami’s grin is gleeful, “No, you didn’t. You had to be dragged back to your room after clogging up the toilet. Or do I need to show you the evidence —”

“Alright — fuck, fine. But really? This is what you’re gonna waste your favor on? You could’ve asked me to —” Zoro gestures around vaguely, “clean the bilge or something.”

Nami shrugs, looking almost too pleased, “Nope! This is what I wanna use my favor for. And, really, you think a bit of bilge water is gonna gross me out? C’mon.”

Zoro heaves a sigh and leans back against the main mast, closing his eyes.

“Fine then. Go.”

Nami sits back on the edge of the barrel.

“No, you go. Admit that you like the new girl.”

“I don’t.” He doesn’t open his eyes.

“I’ve seen you staring at her. We’ve all seen you staring at her.”

“What, that a crime now?”

Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, “No, but I’ve never seen you try so hard to avoid someone before.”

Zoro lets out a bark of laughter, hard and mirthless, “Yeah, so that must mean I like her.”

Nami cocks her head, “It means you feel something towards her. And I’d suggest you figure it out.”

“And how’d you propose I do that?”

Nami once again waves in your direction, “Go. Talk. To her.”

Zoro lets out another breath, eyes scanning across the ship, anywhere but towards where you’re still sitting and reading, finger flipping a page in a perfect, smooth, singular motion.

And Zoro’s not blind. Blunt though he may be at times and careless as he is about most material things, he can still appreciate beauty when he sees it. And you — there’s no denying that you’re beautiful. Your strange stillness aside, when you do move, it’s with a dancer’s lissome grace, fluid lines, not a single movement wasted. When you smile, it seems to light you up from the inside, and your words, though soft, carries the well-worn weight of river stones, glittering beneath the clear, spring stream of your voice.

There’s a sharpness in your eyes, a straightness to your spine, a way of carrying yourself as if you’re afraid that one wrong move might shatter you and the entire world around you.

Sometimes when he sees you, he wonders at the hands that had sculpted you this way. He wonders at your life before they’d picked you up in Loguetown, when you’d oh-so-silently slipped up the execution platform and helped Luffy down, all the while staying free of Smoker’s watchful gaze.

The few times he’s seen you fight, he can’t help wondering if you’ve eaten some kind of devil fruit as well. No human could be so fast as that. Or be so quiet. But then again, he’d fought Kuro, and they’d seen stranger things. Still, he marvels at the way you flicker in and out of sight, slipping around the edges of battle like a dark, haunting thing, and men would drop like flies beneath your quick, quiet hands. With nary a sound or shout before their eyes roll back and their breathing is no more.

On the instances when Sanji had asked about your past, your eyes had gone misty and dark, unfocused. You’d gone still, freezing for so long that Usopp would cough just to fill the silence. And then slowly, ever so slowly, you’d turn back towards them with a small, sad smile and say:

“There’s… not much to talk about. I grew up somewhere far away, where if you didn’t keep quiet and still, bad things would happen to you. And then when those bad things happened, if you weren’t quick — the quickest of all, you’d die.”

Bad things, huh? Zoro thinks as he makes his way towards you, a hand resting on the hilt of his swords. He comes to a stop next to you and leans against one of the white planters, casually peering over your shoulder at the book in your hands.

For a long moment, neither of you move. Then, Zoro clears his throat and forces himself to speak.

“Is it good?”

It takes you a second, but eventually, you turn towards him.

“The book? Yeah, I suppose.”

“Not exactly a glowing review.”

You laugh, a soft, breathy little thing as you look back down at the page.

“It's about a girl who falls into an enchanted sleep, and a prince who wakes her up with a kiss.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a kiss.”

“Yes, and one hell of a prince.”

Zoro finds himself chuckling, his shoulders loosening as he takes another breath.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then… he asks her to marry him.”

You run your fingers along the page, smoothing your palm over the ink and parchment. Zoro watches you, wondering, always wondering.

“What’s she say?” and it’s then that he notices his own voice, hushed and low, barely a whisper.

You look back up at him and smile a smile a sphynx would have been proud of.

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”

Zoro takes a breath, and the breath tastes distinctly different than all the breaths he’d taken before it. As if the world takes the breath with him, and some fundamental truth had shifted on the exhale.

The moment breaks, as moments are wont to do, when Sanji calls out for lunch and Zoro jerks out of his almost-reverie. You slowly close your book and rise to your feet, turning back to smile at him.

“C’mon, it’s lunchtime.”

Zoro nods and follows you into the kitchen, where Luffy and Usopp are already digging in, and Nami is pouring herself a drink. She spots the pair of you and catches Zoro’s eyes. A grin ticks at the edge of her lips but before she can say anything, you’re accosted by Sanji sweeping into a deep, flourishing bow, and ushering you towards the table, where he’d set your place in a manner fit for a princess.

“Where’s my setup?” Zoro asks as he drops into the seat next to you, cocking an eyebrow. Sanji shoots him an unimpressed look.

“I’m surprised you can use a fork and knife, moss-head. Just be grateful and eat up.”

Zoro scoffs but digs in nonetheless.

When next they dock, it’s on a rare, peaceful island — an island of light and books and learning, where the air smells of salt and ink and drying parchment, of unwritten words and untold stories. But it smells of a stillness too, and Zoro knows without having to ask that you’d like it here.

And you do.

He’s never seen you smile so much, never seen you so vibrant and full of life. You chat and laugh and read with a voracious hunger, and he finds himself drawn to this new, warm, moving side of you. He finds himself, more often than not, by your side, even when neither of you speak. And he basks in the comfort of the quiet that permeates the air when it’s just the two of you — him hanging in the hammock on deck, you reading by his side.

But now, there’s the soft tapping of your foot, the shuffle of pages when you flip forward to see what’s coming next, and of course the ever-present shush of the ocean as it washes against the Merry’s side.

The Log Pose needs two weeks to properly calibrate to the next island, so they’ve got time to kill.

On the fifth night, over dinner and drinks, Luffy asks the question that everyone’s been thinking since the day they’d all met you —

“So. Why’re you so still all the time? Not that it’s weird or anything — well, actually — it kind of is, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m just asking cause I'm curious!”

You look up from your half-finished wine but Zoro feels it happening, like the hush of a fan blade slicing through air, the gasp before a porcelain vase tips over and shatters. You stop. You stare. You’re frozen in every sense of the word. And he’s known you for long enough to know that you only go still as a reflex, only reach for it as a shield. Against what? He doesn’t quite know.

“It’s… something of a long story,” you say, your voice low and hoarse.

Luffy grins, smacking his lips as he sucks the meat off a chicken leg, “We’ve got tons of time! Right?” he looks around as if for validation, but everyone’s eyes are caught on you and your unnatural stillness.

Zoro shifts slightly in the seat next to you, opening his stance and turning towards you.

“Could do with a good story.”

Your eyes flash in his direction and he offers you the barest hint of a smile.

You relax, ever so slightly, drifting back in your seat, your glass cupped in the palms of your hands. And then, you begin to speak, your voice smooth and lilting, your words washing over them like the faint lull of the tides.

“When I was three, my father sold me for a barrel of beer.”

A dull clack echoes around the room and everyone turns to see Sanji hurriedly righting the thick stein he’s knocked over. Thankfully, it’d been empty.

“Sorry — I just — what?” he sounds furious but Usopp lays a hand across his arm and shakes his head.

You take a deep breath and continue, your voice oddly emotionless as you say, “The man who bought me took me to an island. It was… a dark place. A quiet place. I only learned its name after I escaped — an island called Elysium.”

Nami gasps before clapping her hands over her mouth.

“I’ve just — I’ve heard of that place before, but I thought… I thought it was just a made-up place.”

Luffy swallows hard, frowning, “What’s it like?”

Nami’s eyes flicker between you and Luffy, “Supposedly… it’s the home island for… for the most feared group of assassins in all the seas combined.”

Usopp’s eyebrows jerk up, “The most feared?”

A faint smile seeps across your lips like blood.

“Yes. The Shadows that Live.”

Everyone turns to look at you. Luffy picks up another drumstick.

“Whoa… cool name!”

Zoro hums, “I’ve heard of them before — but mostly, it was just an old wive’s tale about… shadow assassins who hunt in the dark. Mercenaries for hire. But… no one’s ever seen one before.”

“Because… once you see one, you’ll never live to tell the tale,” you say, your eyes now downcast and fixed on the glass in your hands.

“Then…” Usopp’s voice is soft, “What about… you?”

“I… I ran away.”

Silence greets you. But after a moment, Luffy spits out a bit of bone and uses it to pick at the space between his teeth, his eyes round.

“Wow! You must be pretty good to run away from an island full of shadow assassins!”

You almost laugh, his boundless trust hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“So…” Sanji lets out a puff of silvery smoke, “the staying still thing… that’s just part of your training, yeah?”

You nod, “Something like that.”

Someday, you think, you’ll tell them about the hellscape that was Elysium island, of the long echoing halls, dark and still and silent. Of the mechanical beasts that hunted by sound and movement alone. Someday, you’ll let them know about the poisoned pomegranate seeds that they feed all the “recruits” to keep them hazy, of how you’d kept six of them suspended in your mouth and spat them all out when you’d finally made it far enough from the island to allow yourself to breathe.

“And… are these shadow assassins gonna come after us?” Nami asks, her voice careful and light.

You purse your lips, “I… I don’t know.”

Nami sighs, but a moment later, she moves to refill her drink with a slight shrug, “Well, just one more enemy to add to our growing list. Soon, we’re gonna have to post a sign-up sheet.”

At this, everyone laughs, and the tension snaps like a wounded spring.

Luffy burps loudly, patting his stomach, “I’m not worried — I mean, if you were able to run away from them once, that means you’re stronger than them, right?”

You pause, your hand hovering over the wine bottle. Zoro gently reaches over and refills your glass for you. You shift back into movement, casting him a small smile and taking a sip. The wine is cool and tangy as it hits the back of your throat. You breathe, and the world keeps spinning.

“I… I’m not sure — I’ve never fought… any of… them… before.”

“Guess we’ll find out if they try to come for you then — but you’ve got us now!” Luffy says, reaching for an apple and chomping into it, “ — Sho… you duon gotta wourry —” he licks his lips as he takes another huge bite before tossing the core towards the waste bin, “We’ve got your back!”

Nami makes a disgusted face, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, ugh.”

Sanji chuckles, tapping out his cigarette, “Yeah Luffy, mind your manners.” But his voice is full of laughter and you find yourself relaxing into the sway of the night, the swing of conversation. Beside you, Zoro refills his own glass and leans over to clink it against yours.

You turn, but he only raises his glass before taking a sip.

You mirror his movement, cradling the cup to your chest when you finish.

Later, he finds you by the tangerine trees, ghosting your fingers over their lush green leaves, dark enough to look black in the evening light.

“Hey.”

You turn, “Hi.”

Zoro sighs and looks out over the darkened waves, the moonlight refracted into a million shattered bits of sky.

“Luffy’s right, y’know.”

“What about?” you ask, joining him by the railings. The night air is cool and crisp. Behind you both, the island oozes with lamplight and laughter. Even from here, you can hear the joy, the peace that permeates the air here. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, you think, to stay here forever.

“If they come for you,” Zoro says, “we’ll have your back.”

You let out a small chuckle, looking down at your hands, “I know.”

“So,” he turns towards you, his earrings glinting in beneath the scimitar moon, “you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

You lick your lips, and instinctively, you reach for the stillness. All the days and weeks and months with the people around you have softened you, and for that, you know you should be thankful. Still, old habits die hard, and you have to clench your fists and dig your nails into your own palms to keep from freezing completely.

You take a shivering breath and force it out again.

“Fear’s a hard habit to break.”

At this, Zoro grunts, though it sounds something like consent. The moment stretches, long and soft and taffy-sweet.

He turns back towards the sea, “Yeah,” he says, and then —

“But we can take it slow.”

You swallow hard, passed the broken shards of forgotten words lodged in your throat (you find that they all somehow taste like thank you), and you nod. Warmth tickles your cheeks and you wonder why he’s said we instead of you — and later, lying in your bed at night, staring at the moon-slatted ceiling, you wonder if he was really talking about fear or if it was something else entirely.

You don’t get a lick of sleep that night.

The next few days pass in a light, repetitive blur. You and Zoro are sent on a few short shopping trips in the city, and you’re glad for something to do that involves movement. Shocking how quickly the body adapts once the weight it’d been holding on to is lifted.

You are still quiet, and he, the same; but the silence has shifted around you, and whereas before it’d been solid and steady, it’s now thrumming and charged with some unspoken energy.

Neither of you are blind to it; nor, it seems, is the rest of the crew.

Sanji’s taken to openly teasing Zoro about being with you all the time, complaining loudly that he can’t get a word in edgewise because Zoro refuses to leave you alone. Nami keeps on trying to drag you out for “girl's day” shopping trips, hinting at all the cute clothes you could get and how “green really suits your skin tone, y’know?”

Luffy and Usopp for their part, both just grin whenever they see you together — Luffy stoked at the fact that you seem more happy and talkative, Usopp gleeful at the way Zoro always seems so much softer when he’s next to you.

You’ve taken to watching him when he trains, sitting in the shade of the tangerine trees, a cold drink in your hand as Zoro runs through his katas. You content yourself with watching him flow through the movements, one and then another, and then another after that. He contents himself with your presence, knowing that you’re here, feeling your eyes as they skate down the length of his back or the width of his shoulders.

It’s a peaceful sort of companionship, even if it is living on borrowed time.

When you all wave the little island goodbye, it’s with heavy hearts and tearful smiles. It had treated you well, and you think you’d miss it. But adventure is as adventure does — it calls, beckoning to those with wandering hearts to listen.

The first week back at sea is a strange one, full of a ringing nostalgia. As if you’re simultaneously coming home and leaving one at the same time. Everyone is a bit quiet, except for Luffy, of course, who literally bounces off the freshly waxed planks, humming to himself as he sits on top of the great ram’s figurehead.

“Is he ever still?” you ask one day, sometime in the second week.

To which Zoro makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “You’ve been here a while. What’d you think?”

You sigh softly and tear your eyes away from the bright, shivering ball of energy that is your captain towards the far horizon. A sliver of uncertainty twines through you and your breath slows. Zoro glances at you, now long since attuned to your subtle shifts in movement and stillness. He narrows his eyes.

“What is it?”

You shake yourself back into the moment, forcing a smile.

“Nothing. I think…” your words fade as the feeling twists in you again, knife-sharp and stinging. You clear your throat and reach up to brush away a strand of hair. Skin grazes skin as Zoro’s hand meets yours in the same gesture and you both freeze — hands held up, his finger caught against the bend of your cheekbone, your fingers curling over his.

Time slows, slackens around the pair of you, and the moment stays, suspended in space — garnet dark and perfect.

Neither of you dare to breathe. It’s then that you realize how close Zoro is — close enough for you to see the entire ocean reflected in his eyes: big and dark and so endless it nearly unmoors you. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin; his body, emanating heat. You’d often wondered, in the long hours of watching him train, at the glistening copper of his skin and the light-kissed quality, if the sun himself favored Zoro as well.

Like this, it’s easy to believe that beneath his skin, there pulsed something like sunlight.

“Look! It’s an island! It’s an island!”

And just like that, the moment shatters. Time slips back into motion and you pull away from each other, breathless, with warm cheeks and thundering hearts, feeling somehow lightning-touched and static-ridden.

You take half a step back, reaching up to press a hand to your mouth as if to stop something from tumbling through. But what? You can’t really say.

Zoro tips back as well, whipping around to help Usopp and Sanji with the sails as Luffy continues to holler, waving his hat. On the horizon, you see it looming — the silhouette of an island. You lower your palm from your lips to your heart and wonder what kind of island it will be.

Deserted — seems to be the answer when you all make landfall. The island is quiet, but the occasional chirp and cricket staves off your nerves as you all wander cautiously about the beach, squinting into the dense forest that seems to encompass the whole of the island.

“Looks like a good place to camp for the night!” Luffy says, grinning as he plops down on the sand.

Sanji nods, dusting off his hands, “We’ll need some wood for a fire, but I reckon I can whip up some grilled fish from the fresh catch.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look around, glancing back at the darkening horizon.

“Something the matter?” Zoro’s voice is soft as he helps you carry some of the camping supplies from the ship.

“No… yes… I —” you look up at him, pursing your lips, “I don’t know. I’ve just… this island is…”

Zoro looks around, his dark eyes scanning the thick swath of forest just beyond the beach, “Too quiet?”

You let out a tiny laugh, “Yeah, something like that.”

He nods, “Don’t worry, I’m — we’re here.”

And he leaves it at that, hoisting a stack of wood over his shoulders and going to help Nami with the fire. You watch him with a smile, wondering what on earth you’d done to deserve this level of caring, this magnitude of kindness. Soon, dinner is had and drinks are shared and laughter is spilled like so many silver coins over the white sand beach. The lull of the evening takes over you all, and before long, Luffy and Usopp are slumped over each other, snoring loudly.

You stare into the depths of the fire and try to tamp down the growing dread festering inside your bones. All those years of holding still, of breathing and listening and feeling — you shake yourself — no, not all stillness is a bad thing. Not all silences are made the same.

“You’re doing it again,” Zoro’s voice almost makes you jump. Instead, you turn, finding him next to you as he nurses a half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. He doesn’t look at you, but there’s a loose grin hinged across his lips.

“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head, feeling a now familiar heat creep into your cheeks that has nothing to do with the dwindling bonfire.

“Don’t be,” Zoro takes another drink, “But I told you… you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I know… and I’ve said before —”

“Fear’s a hard habit to break,” Zoro echoes back at you, finally glancing over and catching your eye.

You breathe out, looking down at your own hands, “Yeah… but I’m trying.”

You both fall silent, and for a while, the only sounds are the crackle of the dying flames, the shush of the ocean waves, and the occasional snores from the rest of your crew. It’s late — later than you realized.

“Do you… want me to grab a book for you?”

You smile, “No, I don’t think it’s bright enough.”

“I could restoke the fire.”

“No, it’s — it’s okay.”

“Alright.”

A bird coos the distance.

“Why don’t you tell me a story?” you ask, turning to look at Zoro proper, shifting till your body is facing him.

In the faint light, you can see the edge of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“You’re asking the wrong guy — you should wait till the Great Captain Usopp’s awake.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear one from you.”

Zoro sighs, his eyes fixed on the last of the flickering flames. He takes another swig of wine before he starts to speak, his voice low and a bit stilted, but he pushes on. He tells you about his childhood, the village he’d trained in, the doujou in the middle of the wood, his friend who he’d never beat — not even once.

He tells you about he early mornings and the late nights, and how the world had seemed large enough to conquer.

“… And then… there came a morning when she didn’t show up… and sensei came and told me that there’d been an accident.”

His voice almost breaks then, and your eyes catch on the shining white hilt of the Wadou Ichimonji — his thumb pressing against the guard, running along it’s hard metal edge.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Zoro shrugs, “Don’t be.”

You nod, “Still.”

Zoro slates you a lopsided smirk, “So. Now you know my tragic backstory too.”

You laugh, leaning back to cast your eyes up towards the sky, “And you know mine — it’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

Zoro lets out a long breath, “Yeah… or something.”

There’s a tightness to his voice that makes your skin tingle and it takes everything you have not to look over at him, to try and see if he’s looking at you, watching you the way you’d imagined him to be. You fancy you can feel his gaze on your face, but you close your eyes instead.

You let yourself fall into the warm haze of sleep, and for a while you drift there, your mind sifting through shards of memories and slivers of sound, casting them against the backs of your eyelids as you slowly slide into the darkness of dreams.

You wake up to a gasping stillness — the silence pressing in on your eardrums like thumbs, the darkness around you so complete it’s almost a solid thing. You freeze, your breath hissing to a halt inside you. Then distantly, ever so distantly, you hear the sounds of battle — metal clashing against metal, the hard thud of boots against flesh. You shake your head and reach up to clap your hands over your ears and only then do your senses return to you, snapping back as if you’d been abruptly shunted back into your earthly body.

“Gum Gum — Pistol!”

“Seize her!”

You whip into movement, fast as a flash, dashing away, hoping against hope that it would draw your attackers far enough from your crewmates.

“No one… ever… leaves us…”

The voice is serpentine and susurrus, sinking into your skin like sharpened teeth, but before it can reach you, it’s cut short by a bright flash of silver.

You gasp, whirling around, reaching for the nearest pulse, instinct taking over as you sink your fingers into muscle and flesh. The rush of blood thrumming beneath your fingertips comes too easy, even as a familiar scent accosts you. A moment later, your hands are being pinned above you, and thick, rough bark is digging into your wrists as Zoro stands before you, a sword in one hand, the other holding you still.

His eyes are a little wild and a lot worried. There’s a ring of red rawness around his neck, thin trickles of blood trailing along his jugular, disappearing into the wide scoop neck of his shirt.

“Hey, look at me.”

You nearly whimper, struggling against him, fear still coursing through you like a drug but Zoro is strong enough to keep you held. Behind him, you can see the rest of the crew fending off several shadowy figures, Usopp waving a torch, screaming at the top of his lungs, Luffy whooping as he whacks another figure with his fist.

“Z-Zoro?”

“Yeah, it’s me — eyes up here.”

You swallow in a breath, and then another, and you feel the bright thrum of urgency leave you as your body slowly falls slack. And then you’re slipping, and he’s looping an arm around you to keep you upright.

“Th-they’re here — they —”

“They’re gone — we got rid of them — hey.”

Zoro takes you by the shoulders and gives you a gentle shake. Finally, your eyes catch on his and your gaze holds. You see yourself reflected in them, stark and terrified, but alive — somehow alive.

“They’re gone,” he says, his voice soft and low by your ear, his arm still wrapped around your middle. Shivers wrack your body as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of steel and skin and the metallic tang of blood. It’s then that you remember — the wounds on the sides of his neck. The marks in the shape of your hands —

You jerk back and feel a sticky wetness against your cheek.

“Zoro, I hurt you!”

At this, he scoffs, pulling back far enough to flash you a look.

“This is nothing. C’mon.”

He offers you a hand, and after a second you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Wordlessly, he presses his palm to the small of your back, his arm extended to keep you steady as you both make your way back towards camp.

“Phew! That was a workout!” Luffy is saying just as you both reach the outskirts of the now-darkened bonfire. Sanji is pulling out a cigarette, striking a match, and first lighting the end before tossing it into the remains of the firewood, fanning it up into a slow flame.

Nami and Usopp both look a bit shaken, but none worse for the wear.

They all pivot to look at you.

You go still against Zoro’s side, uncertainty flooding through you. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s fingers as they press into the bend of your waist, solid and steady.

Then, Usopp coughs, “C’mon y’all — the Shadows that Live? Psh! More like — the Shadows that Fled, am I right? Yeah? Didya see the way I sent ‘em runnin’ with my brand new fire-powered explosion rounds?”

Nami chuckles and Sanji follows suit, shaking his head and letting out a thin wisp of smoke. Luffy’s grins at you, pumping a fist in the air, clapping his right shoulder.

“See? Told you we’d have your back! We are your crew, after all!”

Weakness seeps into your limbs as you nod, hot pin-pricks of tears itching at your lower lashes. You lower your head and rub at your eyes before looking back up again with a smile. Sanji grimaces as he looks over Zoro.

“Got something on your neck, mate.”

Zoro glares but you glance over and feel your stomach twist with guilt.

“Sorry… I can clean that up for you. They’re not deep but they do need to be bandaged up.”

Zoro wipes down his sword before sheathing it and motioning towards the ship. Behind you, you can hear Nami yawning and saying something about catching up on some more sleep and Sanji reassuring her about having the last watch anyway.

The kitchen is still dark, but the dusty dawn sweeps against the far horizon and neither of you bother to turn the lights on. You carefully set the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and collect the supplies as Zoro leans back against the edge and folds his arms. You work in near silence, reaching up to first wipe the thin threads of drying blood before tending to the tiny, crescent-shaped puncture wounds.

You press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against one of them and feel Zoro wince.

“Sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

You bite your lips, “If this had been a bit deeper or a few inches over —”

“But it wasn’t. So it’s fine.”

You don’t look up at him but you can feel his eyes on you. Your movements are fluid and sure; you’d clearly done this before.

“Hey, look at me.”

You freeze, eyes slowly gliding up the planes and divots of his neck, slipping up the line of his jaw, so sharp it might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. Your breath hitches as you finally meet his eyes, and there’s a dark, knowing glint behind them that makes your stomach flip.

“I’m fine.”

And for the second time in a handful of hours, you’re caught by the realization of your closeness — only a breath of space between you. There’s a crimp at the corner of his mouth that looks dangerously like a smile and then you’re tipping forward, a thumb reaching up to trace the line of his bottom lip once —

The movement acts like a trigger, and suddenly, he is leaning in and the breath of space disappears.

For all your life of stillness, you thought you’d learned to appreciate the depths and widths of movement. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this — for the push and pull of lips on lips, for the force and friction of skin against skin. For the gasp and hiss, for the breath and kiss.

For the feeling of his large palm as it settles along the swallow’s-nest bend of your neck, the way his thumb runs along your jaw like tracing the guard of his beloved sword, tilting your mouth towards him. For the way your heart might flutter like a tiny, caged bird, or the way you might feel his heart thumping like a fist from his chest to yours.

For the way his voice rolls over your name like a ship at sea; for the way it would shake your body from your bones and leave you more liquid than solid in his arms. For how you never used to think your story would be a love story, but then you realize that every story is a love story if caught in the right moment, in the right light.

And here, breaking apart from Zoro, with a thick, stolen streak of lemon-yellow sunlight leaking in from the kitchen window — that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Oh,” is all you have the strength to say.

Zoro, in all his solid brilliance and quiet audacity, laughs.

You taste the smile on your own lips before you realize you’re smiling. But when you try to bury your face in his neck, he winces slightly as you brush his still-fresh wounds.

“Crap, I forgot about these.”

Zoro chuckles as you hurry to press a few small bandages to the wounds.

“It’s okay. So did I.”

You finish dressing his wounds in silence, though this silence is markedly different from every other silence that had ever existed between you. There’s ease and tension, both, and when you’re finally finished, Zoro takes both your hands in his.

“So…” you say, unsure suddenly of where to look.

Zoro’s laugh is just as soft, just as uncertain.

“So.”

You try to look out the window, but by now, the dawning sun is so bright that it temporarily blinds you and you jerk back. Zoro smiles, reaching up to run his thumbs along your closed eyelids before dropping them to hook around your wrists again.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asks, quiet as always.

You purse your lips and let your lashes flutter open. You find him watching you. Heat crests up your shoulders and into your cheeks, and suddenly, the exhaustion of the night before saps at your limbs. You sigh.

“Right now? Not really.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, sounding as relieved as you feel.

You bite your lips and cast your gaze shyly across his face, your bird-wing heartbeat still flapping in your chest. You fight the urge to go still, to reach for that shield that has always protected you before. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s thumbs tracing circles along the insides of your wrists.

“Can I ask for something else, though?”

“What is it?”

You reach up a finger, nudging one of his golden earrings. You don’t miss the way he shivers, or the way his breath quickens in his chest.

“Kiss me again.”

Zoro grins, tugging you towards him, leaning into the curve of your palm as he does.

And does.

And does again.

reqs are: temporarily closed

but feedback is much loved and appreciated!!!

[lixie-phoria]

ੈ✩‧ ➛ lee know thinks he's subtle as he pines over you

pairing : lee know x gn reader ; genre : fluff | warnings : none ; word count : 0.7k words

summary : a good way to confess to someone? tell them about it! but does lee know ever do anything conventionally? of course not. so here he was, trying to see you anytime he gets, and what better excuse than saying his cats miss you? you would never find he was the one missing you, right?

chan's ver. | hyunjin's ver. | jeongin's version | felix's ver. | changbin's version | han's ver.

"hey, the cats miss you. you mind if i bring them over?"

lee know's tone is soft as he speaks over the phone with you, but his cold warning gaze settled upon hyunjin and changbin, who were trying their best to hold in their laughter, told a different story.

it does help, however, when he hears you eagerly agree and immediately relaxes, promising to be there soon. but of course he should've been more careful about where he was making the call because he certainly would not have picked a place where any of the other 7 could hear him. they would never let him rest in peace.

"so."

changbin valued his life slightly lesser than hyunjin did, so the first remark came from him.

"the cats miss y/n that much, huh?" hyunjin picked up from where changbin left.

"both of you, drop it."

"no no, do you plan on telling y/n that the cats have been asleep for the past two hours?"

lee know wished there was a box of tissues somewhere close by so he could shove it right down the younger members throats because he could not stand being teased over his crush on you anymore.

"the cats do miss y/n. that's why they were so irritable when they went to sleep."

"so that had nothing to do with you forgetting to give them water because you'd been talking to y/n for an hour?"

lee know was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it. he could deny all he wanted, but even he was aware that he really wasn't subtle about the not-so-small crush he harbored for you. his members knew about it, your members knew about it. heck, even his manager could see his feelings. it was that obvious. lee know could only hope you hadn't caught on because he'd be damned if you realized his way of spending time with you was making excuses that his cats wanted to see you.

lee know, the supposedly cool and nonchalant lee know his fans are so used to seeing on camera, was reduced to a nervous blushing mess whenever you were involved. how on earth was he supposed to confess to you when he could barely ask you to hang out with him?

"wear that green hoodie y/n really likes when you go." hyunjin adds, way too invested in whatever was unfolding.

"why does that matter?"

"because it gives them an excuse to compliment you, obviously."

the older boy huffed, hoping the other two could not see the red creeping up the tips of his years.

"and make sure to not mention that the cats were too busy sleeping to miss them."

"yah! i'm not stupid, i know."

"maybe mention that you were the one missing them."

changbin and hyunjin cackled as lee know's eye twitched in annoyance. they really were testing his patience today.

"just because the air fryer isn't in this room doesn't mean you're both safe."

this line was usually effective under normal circumstances. but not today.

"hyung, do you really thing you can threaten us? when you're the one in the vulnerable position?"

"i am not."

"oh so i can text y/n about all the times you've lied just to meet them?"

"he has an entire list, by the way," changbin manages in between his laughter.

"you're both jobless."

"says the one who's about to make a 30 minutes drive just so he can see his crush."

the two dissolved into another fit of laughter as the older member stormed out of the room and to where his three cats were resting in a peaceful slumber.

he felt guilty shaking them awake, but it would be worth it, right? he would get to meet you and you hopefully wouldn't even realize that they were just an excuse for him to see you, to hear your voice, to make you smile, to stare into your eyes just a little bit longer. hopefully you wouldn't catch on despite him using this very same excuse for what seemed like the thousandth time.

minho couldn't believe himself as he reluctantly put on the green hoodie hyunjin had advised him to wear.

he really wished the two would not see him in it. he would never make it out of the dorms if they found out he had listened to them. it was a pain, really, but for you lee know would do anything.

©lixie-phoria, 2023

tags : @lethallyprotected @dreamingaboutjisung @selcayuri @bangchansbae @aak2 @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba (send an ask to be added/removed!)

[coldfanbou]

Temptress

Belle is trying to help Haneul grow out of her shell in the first part of a two-part story

Length 2.1K

Belle x Mreader ft Haneul

Next Part

Relaxing in their dorm room, Belle and Haneul chatted away at their plans for the weekend. “Haneul, you need to get out and have some fun. We're in college, and it's our chance to go wild. This is a time in our lives that we'll never get back, so let's make the most of it. No parents, no one to tell us no."

“I don’t know, Belle. I’m not really the kind of person to go wild.”

“What about that boy in your science class? You looked pretty interested in him. Why don’t you ask him out or, at the very least, sleep with him?”

Haneul’s mouth drops as she tries to come up with a response. “I can’t just sleep with him. That’s not right; maybe if we were dating, it would be fine, but I don’t think just doing it is-”

“Then I’m going to,” Belle interrupts. “I’ll show you just what you’re missing out on. You need to loosen up and have some fun. I’ll show you just how good it’ll be tonight.” Belle said before putting on her jacket. “I’ll be back tonight. You can…hide in the closet if you’re too embarrassed to watch or join us.” With that, the pair left their dorm room. They walked to their science class. Haneul thought more about what Belle told her; she glanced at her roommate and bit her lip, her mind slowly accepting that she may be right. 

You were already in class; Belle sat beside you, with Haneul to her right. She glanced at you, flashing an amused smile as she looked through her bag and pulled out a notebook and pencil. During your class, Belle started chatting with you, writing notes in her book, and nudging you when she finished. It was casual at first; she wrote questions about what the professor was talking about and the subject in general. Over time, though, she switched to talking about what you were doing over later. She wrote, “Want to come back to my place? My roommate will be out, so it’ll just be us.” Belle drew a winky face, wanting to get her message across. 

“Sounds good,” you whisper. Belle’s smile grows, and she leans closer, touching your hand. 

When class ends, Haneul leaves first, not wanting to be around while you are with Belle. Her roommate's words rang in her ears, though. The longer she thought about it, the more she felt it couldn’t hurt to watch. She went back to her dorm room, full of nervousness. “Maybe this was a bad idea.” She thought to herself, doubt coming back into her mind. The door knob jiggled as you and Belle arrived, and Haneul looked around quickly, putting herself in their closet. 

You stumble into the room, Belle wrapping her hands around your neck as she presses her lips against yours. You push the door closed with your foot and grab Belle’s waist, moving your hands lower as you pick her up. Belle giggles as you pick her up, her laugh soon turning into a breathy moan as you nip at her exposed neck. You press Belle against the wall, her legs wrapping around your waist. She was facing the closet. Haneul saw the pleasure on Belle’s face through the slats in the door. Hearing her moans added more to the scene unfolding before her. Haneul didn’t notice as she began to rub her legs together the tingle she felt between them.

Belle slips her jacket off before cupping your cheeks and bringing you into another kiss. She rocks her hip, feeling your bulge press against her. “Ooh, got something for me?” Belle giggles as she runs her hands down your chest. “Why don’t you put me down so I can show you what else these lips can do?” You put her down gently, and Belle undoes your belt before pulling down your pants and boxers. With a sly smile on her face, Belle strokes your cock slowly. “You’re pretty big,” she says as she kneels before you. Belle points your dick to the ceiling, running her tongue along the underside of your shaft.

From the closet, Haneul couldn’t see what Belle was doing. You were blocking her line of sight, but your groans were enough to tell her it was something enjoyable. Haneul saw small movements; they were Belle bobbing her head as she sucked your cock. As she watched, Haneul leaned against the closet door, her hand tapping her thigh, and slowly moved toward her cunt.

While Belle bobbed her head, she wondered if Haneul was in the closet. The idea of being watched turned her on, and she used that energy on you. Her lips were tightly wrapped around your shaft as she bobbed her head, the faint sounds of her gagging on you when she pushed herself to her limits mixed with your moans. You watched Belle slowly pull away, dragging her tongue along your cock before popping you out of her mouth. She held your cock, dragging the tip around her lips. “Are you going to cum, baby?” 

Belle slowly strokes your cock, looking you in the eyes as your shaft throbs in her hand. “I want you to cum on my face. Paint me,” She commands, her pace becoming quicker. You nod your head as you moan Belle’s name. She presses her plump lips against the tip of your cock before opening her mouth; her tongue runs from side to side across the head.

“I’m cumming, Belle.” You groan as you shoot the first spurt onto her lips. Belle leans back, letting you paint her as you wish. You cover her lips first before moving higher and covering her forehead.  Once you were done, Belle stood up, smiling at you before looking into a mirror to see how well you did. Haneul looked at Belle and saw her painted face. She reached under her skirt and began running her fingers along her slit. She cupped one of her tits with the other, kneading it as she watched you come up behind Belle and take her skirt off. “Let’s move on,” You whisper into her ear, bringing a smile to her face. 

“Let's,” Belle replies, gathering the cum on her. She feels your cock slide between her legs, rubbing against her wet panties. “Mmm, that’s it, baby.” She leans against your body, letting you use her thighs for your pleasure. 

Haneul watched on from inside, seeing her first cock as yours poked out from between Belle’s thighs. Haneul pushed her fingers inside her cunt; she covered her mouth with her other hand as she struggled to contain her moans. She watched you and Belle as you both stripped to nearly nothing. Your continued thrusts teased you and Belle, pushing you to make the next move. You pulled Belle’s panties to the side and pushed your cock inside. She cooed, her mind becoming foggy as your cock spread her apart. She kept her hands on top of yours as you began thrusting inside her. Belle’s body bounced, her modest tits shaking as your bodies collided.

Haneul had a front-row seat as you pounded away at Belle’s body. Her fingers began moving quicker; her other hand was barely doing enough to keep her quiet as she whined. “Harder,” Belle moaned. She recognized Haneul’s voice despite how small it was. Now that she knew Haneul was watching, Belle was excited. She imagined her friend fingering herself on the other side of the door, watching as she got fucked. She moaned loudly, letting the younger woman know how good she felt. Belle was getting tighter with every thrust. The young woman clung to you, pressing her ass against you as she tried to make you go deeper. Belle felt herself getting close and brought herself closer to the closet, leaning against it. She begged you to give her more, and you did just that. 

On the other side, Haneul stared at Belle’s body, taking in her scent as she was pressed against the door. At that moment, Haneul wanted to kiss her; she pressed her lips against the door and closed her eyes, listening to Belle’s cries of pleasure. You were holding onto Belle’s waist, thrusting quickly as you felt your orgasm approach. Without warning, you rammed your cock deep into Belle, your cum spewing out and coating her walls as you filled her up. Belle climaxed in response, her walls tightening around you as she felt your cum shoot into her. She cried out your name, moaning loudly as you filled her. On the other side, Haneul had brought herself to an orgasm, her body shuddering as it experienced a new high. “B-bed.” She managed to get out. You pull out and walk her to her bed. 

You lay down first, and Belle straddles you, slipping you back inside. Belle rocks her hips, moving your cock inside her as she gathers her energy to start riding you. While you wait, you reach up and cup her small breasts, tugging at her nipple. “Mmm, that’s good, baby.” Belle moans. Soon enough, Belle began to move. “I think I’m ready.” She said as she bounced on your cock. Belle placed her hands on your chest, trying to support herself. You held onto her waist and began thrusting, meeting her in the middle and making the experience more pleasurable for the two of you. You were hitting deep inside Belle, her muscles flexing as you repeatedly hit her G-spot. She bit her lip, struggling, whining as she felt another orgasm closing in. You leaned in, kissing Belle as her walls tightened around you, and she cums again. Her hips move erratically, going back and forth at a wild pace. You cum a moment layer, leaving more of your semen inside her cunt. 

Belle collapses on top of you, her chest heaving as she takes deep breaths. “Fuck, that was good.” She glances up at you, a tired smile on her face. “We need to do that again sometime. How about we do this again tomorrow? If you have the energy for it.” Belle was challenging you; that much was obvious.

“Yeah, tomorrow. I hope you’re not going to be too sore.” You retort. Belle smirks before climbing off you. You kiss her again before gathering your clothes and leaving. 

Belle lies in her bed, tired and covered in sweat, as the closet door opens and Haneul walks out. She smiles at the younger woman, “What did you think? Did you enjoy the show?” Belle spread her legs, cum oozing from her cunt as Haneul got closer. She added to the show, reaching down and collecting some of your cum and opening her hand, making it spread between her fingers. Haneul locked her eyes on Belle’s fingers; the older woman smiled back at her. “Want a taste?” Haneul was hesitant but nodded her head. She let Belle slip her fingers inside and began to suck them clean. Your cum was salty, but it wasn’t unpleasant; Haneul licked Belle’s fingers clean before pulling away. “Haneul, you know this stuff is better from the source. Join us tomorrow for the fun. It’s a lot better than fingering yourself in a closet.” Belle tapped on Haneul’s thigh; it was slick with her nectar. Haneul blushed, embarrassed that Belle knew what she was up to. “It’ll be lots of fun. I’ll help you through it.” Belle reached to her cunt, collecting more of your cum and bringing it to her lips. The younger woman stared at Belle’s cunt as it continued to leak cum. It made Belle smirk. “If you want, you can have a taste.” She spread her legs, tempting Haneul.

Haneul's eyes darted between Belle’s gaze and her cunt. She slowly moved down until she was inches away. Her tongue hesitantly reached out, and she dragged it slowly along Belle’s slit. Belle leaned back, moaning as she felt Haneul lick her. Now that she had a taste for it, Haneul did it again, dragging her tongue along the older woman’s slit as she held her legs apart. Belle moaned, reveling in the pleasure she was getting from her friend cleaning her cunt. Every lick brought her untold pleasure as Haneul slowly dug deeper, her tongue beginning to venture inside. It rubbed against Belle’s walls. The older woman bit her lip as she tried to steady herself, but Haneul pushed her tongue as far as she could and made Belle cum. Hanuel tasted something new as Belle spilled her nectar onto her. 

When Belle saw Haneul lick her lips, she knew that Haneul would begin to enjoy herself a little more. She sat up and kissed the younger woman. “We’re going to have a lot of fun together, Haneul.” She smirked, thinking of all the things they could do.

[souporsaladnatural]

Transcription of Jensen's full answer from That Part of his and Misha's panel

[Misha laughs, Jensen goes to speak but looks down shaking his head and grinning]

Jensen: “God… [Crowd laughs] Uh, professionally, [Crowd laughs again][...]”

Misha: “And you put that in air quotes.”

Jensen: “[Laughs] Use that term loosely. Uhm, there- there is- uh- there’s- there’s few people that, when the cameras are rolling, you get to um… truly create, moments that aren't on the page. Uhm, and it’s- it’s hard sometimes to find rhythm, and cohesiveness with everyone you work with. Uhh, and when you find the- the rare person that um, can- can, uh, play at a level that… makes you wanna be better, and also it almost is like a- it’s like a high that you get, when the creative juices are flowing and you're- you’re making moments that maybe didn't even plan to be there. ‘Happy accidents’ we used to call them. Of- Of emotion, or, uh- between-the-lines, uh- nuance moments.

And I think there’s a reason that the story of- of Dean and Cas skewed to where it was, was because, uh, I kept- kept being able to have that creative, um, ignition with Mish when- when those cameras were rolling that was uhh- that made me a better actor, uhm, and- and made me wanna be- wanna find that even more. And… and it’s- it’s a testament to not just his, uh, his talent but his- the way he preps, the way he plays, the way he- he uh, entertains, and performs. Um, there’s- there’s just such a uh, there’s such an openness. I say that um, that as- as an actor, you know people have asked me ‘I wanna be an actor, do you have any, uh, advice?’ I say ‘Know your stuff, but be emotionally available to any and everything when the cameras are rolling.’ And that is when you find the magic. And… the magic was always there when Misha would walk on set and those cameras would roll. So I think professionally that was one of the great assets that he brought on a daily basis, that I- that I got to be the beneficiary of.

In fact all- everybody, anybody that got to work with him, if they were available to it, and they noticed what he was doing was- was, you know, so nuanced, um, that it made them better. Um, so I really appreciate that gift of getting to work with him. Uh, the scene where he tells Dean goodbye, uhm, I- I- I blanked in that- in that scene. Because I became an audience member. I just simply was watching this unbelievable performance unfold and I had the best seat in the house. And then it was like my turn to speak and I was like ‘Oh, shit, uhm.’ I said ’Don’t ruin this for him, don’t ruin this for him.’ Uh, so when you get to work with somebody that has that level of talent and that level of expertise and- and- and knows how to- how to utilize performance the way he does, it just- um- it’s just really a gift.

Uhh personally, uh- the- he- he disgusts me. Um. [Crowd laughs] He’s just so dry that the oil never worked. [Crowd and Misha laughs] Buckets, of buckets of oil, it just… No, he- uh- I will say this, he’s- um- he- he’s such a man of- of many talents outside of just the acting field, uh, that it- it does truly disgust me sometimes. When he- in our meet and greet he’s like ‘What kind of hobbies do you have?’ and he’s like ‘Oh, I like to go into the woods and make furniture.’ I’m like ‘No!’ [crowd laughs] No! I see on- He’s like ‘What’d you do this weekend?’ ‘Oh, I went and like forged metal things with my kid-’ No! [Misha and crowd laugh]

Um… he’s such an amazing dad, he’s such an amazing friend, um… and… and uh, I mean this is very self-serving, but uh, it’s- um- he’s- he’s on the extreme short list of people that I would, that I would call, if I had a problem.”

[Misha gets up to hug Jensen, and Jensen immediately retreats to the other side of the stage. Misha hugs him, whispers something in his ear, and Jensen grins and hugs him back. They walk back to their seats]

Jensen: “[whispered into mic] He told me he loved me!”

What in the fuck was in the water this weekend

[Video] [Misha's Answer]