#even the ship names sound pretty!!

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

self indulgent horross doodles just because i can >B)

[waterdeepthroat]

my hot veilguard take is i much prefer davrin/neve to either lucanis/neve or bellara/neve

[riddlerosehearts]

i know it's past halloween when i'm posting this, but as a vildia shipper i've been thinking a lot about what vil and idia would do together for halloween--ignoring the existence of the halloween event that we already have--and since i imagine them getting together post-book 6, when ortho has joined the film club and idia is trying to be a better brother to him and be less of a shut-in overall, i think it's a lot of fun to imagine the two of them taking him trick-or-treating!!

i think ortho has tried to get idia to take him trick-or-treating before, but every year idia always says no because he thinks going around to a bunch of rando's houses to get candy is scary, lame, and pointless (they can literally just buy candy at the store, after all!) and he has too many special halloween events to play in his video games anyway. so one day during a film club meeting a few weeks before halloween, ortho offhandedly mentions this, saying he's always wished idia would take him trick-or-treating, and vil decides to talk to idia about it. it actually doesn't take much for idia to agree that yes, it is wrong of him to stay in his room all day when his little brother wants to spend time with him on a holiday, and he absolutely should do it this year, no matter how nervous the thought of it makes him.

he asks vil to come with them, and vil initially says no because as much as he enjoys the aesthetic of halloween, he has a certain reputation and image as a celebrity that does not include doing such childish activities at the age of 18. but idia gets him to change his mind by convincing him that, actually, a lot of his fans would love to see photos and videos of him taking a little kid trick-or-treating because it would be gap moe! a term which vil understands without explanation thanks to idia--and he can see how such a thing just might actually be good for his image, simply by making him seem less otherworldly and unrelatable. so, he agrees, and the three of them spend the next several weeks trying to make their costumes absolutely perfect.

they really go all out, and they have a ton of fun with it. idia's costume has a mask that he keeps on at pretty much all times, so that keeps him from being nearly as nervous as he thought he'd be... except for when ortho gets so excited that he tries to just blast off from house to house without him or vil. but, he and vil both are incredibly happy to see that ortho is so happy, and throughout the night idia's ego gets inflated from all the compliments the three of them get on their costumes, and he and vil constantly exchange snarky comments under their breath about the quality and craftsmanship, or lack thereof, of the costumes and decorations they come across. they collect tons of candy and idia makes sure to add a special attachment to ortho's gear to allow him to actually eat it. vil started thinking he was too old for trick-or-treating a long time ago, but he ends up being pretty glad he went, especially when he sees all of the positive reactions from his fans on magicam.

i also think that before and after the trick-or-treating, ortho would hang out and do halloween stuff with his fellow first years while idia and vil take some time for themselves! the first thing they would do is that idia would introduce vil to one of his favorite survival horror video games, one that has a 2-player co-op mode, and vil might take a bit to get the hang of it but would ultimately really enjoy playing the game with idia.

later at night, they cuddle up and have a bit of a halloween movie marathon. based on idia's love of pumpkin hollow, he's definitely into horror movies, and i also think vil is as well, since he was directing a gothic horror for the film club in silver's PE uniform vignette and then based pomefiore's halloween costumes on gothic horror aesthetics. so, vil would get idia to watch his favorite classic gothic horror film, idia would force vil to watch pumpkin hollow (which vil did not think he would enjoy based on idia's description of its story, but by the end, while he still found it a bit silly, he was able to admire its craftsmanship and creativity and see why idia loved it so much), and then they decide to wind down and watch something more lighthearted. they pick howl's moving castle and idia compares howl to vil several times during the movie, which vil briefly gets annoyed by but then uses as an opportunity to tease idia back.

[nonuggetshere]

PK letting some of his animalistic behaviours out whenever one of his children is endangered 👀

Doesn't even use his magic or weapons just goes straight to mauling in his rage

Truly animalistic appearance and noises, being on all fours (...sixes?) and with his mandibles out, snarling and letting out a growl that shakes the very ground they stand on

And then just as quickly he returns back to his upright stance and stoic demeanor, flicking his long tongue out to lick the blood around his eyes off and calmly asks somebody to clean the corpses up

I don't think FaaF PK might be the kind of man who would execute Xero when he was very clearly infected unless he thought he was a lost cause, ik that's what happened in canon but it's an AU so I think I'm allowed to change that. I've already made PV have a secret queer romance and have the fact they're not hollow be outed before the sealing, I think PK not wanting to execute a terminally I'll guy of not sound mind for treason isn't out of the question.

Unless one of his children got caught up in the crossfire, then his instincts would kick in before his rational brain would. And it'd be a much more violent and cooler way for him to go out. And although he's not proud of what he did, PK decides the damage has been done already, might as well show it off as an example of what happens to traitors. Robs a dead man of his dignity even post death because it's the more convenient option.

NOT canon compliant I don't think. Don't take this as my take of what happened in canon and how canon PK would react, I just think it's cool ✨️ I might absolutely turn back on this idea though I just like it atm

[bumblingbabooshka]

'Parturition' is so brave for being the yaoi ship trope episode of Voyager. "Neelix and Tom Paris had a physical.....fight." Also continuing Tom's beautiful habit of loving both infidelity and child abandonment with all his heart. Also, wonderful out of context quote: "I had no right to push that pasta in your lap."

[crystallinestars]

Just Confess Already! Part 2

Drabbles about Genshin men (or you) confessing with the help of a wingman. This is pure fluff.

Characters: Kazuha, Kinich, Ororon, Wanderer, and Cyno.

Part 1 here.

I apologize if the endings sound abrupt, I've edited and rewritten this many times, and at this point I just want to get this finally posted. I also apologize for the length, my writing style has changed since part 1.

🍁 Kazuha

Everyone and their mother at The Crux could tell you and Kazuha had a thing for each other. The way you guys spent most of your free time in each other’s company discussing poetry or music, the way Kazuha always volunteered to help you with your tasks, how you took care of Kazuha when he got drunk, and just the overall subtle romantic tension about your pair tipped off pretty much everyone.

Though Beidou didn’t want to pry into the love lives of her crew, she’d sometimes catch glimpses of you and Kazuha chatting up in the crow’s nest of the ship and noted that the way you smiled at each other was endearing. Otherwise, she paid little attention to it, thinking it was only a matter of time until one of you confessed and you guys became an official couple.

However, that time never came. The two of you pussyfooted around the topic of laying bare your feelings, and everyone at The Crux was getting a little annoyed that you were stuck in the pining phase. There was a limit to how long Beidou could tolerate watching you give each other pining glances without snapping and telling you two to get together already.

One time when you were out on an errand, Beidou and her crew invited Kazuha for a drink. The friendly and cheerful atmosphere prompted some members to share their life stories, and the topic breached romance. Someone asked Kazuha why he hadn’t confessed to you yet, and the drunken ronin answered that he treasured your friendship and didn’t want to jeopardize it in case you didn’t feel the same way.

Beidou could only scoff at his excuse. It was so obvious that you liked him back, and since when was Kazuha such a coward? He could go up against the Raiden Shogun’s deadly Musou no Hitotachi, but had his tail between his legs at the prospect of admitting he loved you to your face? Preposterous! Moreover, she had to tell her crew to settle down because they were creating a spectacle out of your crushes on each other and making bets on which one of you would confess first (she betted on you).

If Kazuha was too much of a coward, Beidou thought, then maybe you’d be braver.

That same evening, she happened to find you alone in your cabin and took the opportunity to bring up the issue of your longtime crush on Kazuha. Though she was no expert on romance, Beidou wanted to help you. She got you to open up and confide in her, patiently listening while you expressed your fears about confessing to Kazuha. You also didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with him, so Beidou stated outright that he returned your feelings. If you didn’t believe her, then see for yourself.

With that, she pried open a window in the cabin. Over the gentle lapping of the waves, you heard the crew’s laughter up on the deck, and the faint sound of Kazuha’s familiar voice. It was a little difficult to hear what he was saying over the crew’s chatter, and his speech was slightly slurred, but you made out a few words. He frequently spoke your name while reciting a few clumsy haikus. But they weren’t just any random poems about the sea or sky—they were love haikus.

Beidou patted your shoulder and told you to have courage instead of wasting your life wondering about what-ifs and regretting not doing anything.

Over the following days, Beidou sent you and Kazuha out on joint errands in Liyue Harbour. The errands themselves weren’t all that important, but they served as good excuses to give you two some alone time. Kazuha was no fool and quickly deduced that Beidou was setting you two up on purpose, but he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to spend more time with you.

Beidou hoped something would finally change by the time you returned, and sure enough, when she spotted you and Kazuha walking back to the ship, she smiled. The two of you were holding hands and smiling warmly at each other, a good sign that your once-suppressed feelings were now in the open. Naturally, the rest of the crew noticed the change as well and grew excited when you confirmed that you and Kazuha were now in a romantic relationship.

That night, they brought out the good wine and food to congratulate you and Kazuha on finally getting together. Most of the Crux’s crew joined on the festivities, with some members being nosy and asking you for details on how it happened and who confessed first.

When you admitted to confessing first, Beidou smugly accepted her winnings and took a big swig of her drink before yelling out a cheer. Her crew followed suit in toasting and cheering much to your and Kazuha’s embarrassment, but it was all in good fun. Beidou made sure to make it up to you by distracting the crew with a drinking game and sending you a wink as she allowed you and Kazuha to make a quiet escape from the party. The Crux gang would have plenty of time to tease you in the future—for now, you and Kazuha deserved to enjoy this newfound relationship without others poking their noses where they don’t belong. Beidou would make sure of it.

🟩 Kinich

Kinich’s relationship with you perplexed K’uhul Ajaw. The Almighty Dragonlord couldn’t pinpoint when it happened, but something between you two changed. Recently, Kinich had been giving you discounts whenever you asked for his help, and sometimes even did things for you for free. Kinich the Malipo giving someone special treatment? Unheard of! And on top of all that, his servant had been visiting you more frequently during downtime, and there was also that strange glint in Kinich’s eyes whenever he looked at you, something akin to endearment—

Oh.

Kinich liked you.

Oh, this was going to be good!

Ajaw’s diabolical nature wouldn’t let him keep Kinich’s feelings for you a secret. The next time you came to hang out with their duo, the saurian waved his little stubby arms and ran his mouth as soon as you were within earshot. “Hey, human! Our lowly servant has developed romantic feelings for you like some sort of prepubescent schoolboy! Isn’t that a riot?” and cackled, thinking Kinich would be thoroughly humiliated and put in his place.

To Ajaw’s dismay, instead of looking disgusted by the news, you appeared… hopeful? A tad surprised by his outburst, but was that hope shining in your eyes? To Ajaw’s even greater dismay, Kinich lacked any sort of outward reaction to having his crush on you vocalized so brazenly. Instead, the saurian hunter told you to ignore Ajaw’s nonsensical words in his usual calm manner, before smacking the pixelated menace away for a timeout. Right before he got locked away, Ajaw managed to catch a glimpse of disappointment in your eyes when Kinich brushed the situation aside as if it were nothing.

That day, K’uhul Ajaw realized that Kinich’s feelings were not one-sided like he originally thought. You liked Kinich too. The mere thought of you two acting all lovey-dovey with each other was sickening, but the saurian figured poking fun at you and Kinich would be a good source of entertainment.

After that day, Ajaw became even more insufferable. Every chance he got, he’d swoop in with a taunting remark and make fun either you, Kinich, or both.

One time while accompanying Kinich through a dense forest, you slipped on a wet tree root and were sent falling towards the ground. However, Kinich swiftly caught you and pulled you to his chest to help stabilize you. Ajaw had a field day laughing and crowing about how scandalous you were for practically throwing yourself at Kinich like that. Were you that desperate to be in his arms? Disgusting!

The saurian also used every opportunity he could find to reveal all of Kinich’s secrets to you. Did you know Kinich gave you special treatment? No? Are you blind?! Can’t you tell he does stuff for you for free? Why do you think he brings you game and wild berries free of charge every once in a while--to show off how good he is at hunting?! Have you at least noticed Kinich smiled more and acted softer towards you, or are you really that blind? He doesn’t treat anyone else that way, you know! …And so on and so forth, though most of his attempts to out Kinich are interrupted by the man himself locking Ajaw away before the dragon reveals too much.

As fun as it was to watch your pair’s awkward attempts at showing signs of affection for each other, Ajaw eventually grew frustrated with standing witness to the mutual pining that never progressed anywhere. It made the little saurian’s blood boil with annoyance.

Whenever he and Kinich were alone, Ajaw would complain that the hunter should stop being a dimwit and a coward and just confess to you already! How could he not see that you obviously liked him back?! Seriously, how bad was his luck to end up with such an imbecile for a servant?!

Kinich coolly rejected Ajaw’s insistence for confessing his feelings. It was not in his nature to recklessly rush into the unknown—he needed to carefully analyze and weigh his options before coming to a sound decision. As such, his relationship with you was not to be rushed. This didn’t sit well with Ajaw, but no matter what he said, Kinich stubbornly refused to listen.

The Dragonlord’s patience reached a breaking point during one fateful day. It was getting dark, and Kinich had offered to escort you home. Once you were safely at your doorstep, you made the bold move of kissing Kinich’s cheek in thanks. For a split moment, Ajaw swore there was palpable romantic tension between you as your and Kinich’s eyes met (gross). Kinich glanced at your lips, looking as if he wanted to lean in and kiss you (doubly gross) and Ajaw prepared himself to make disgusted gagging noises, except… nothing happened. With a seldom seen blush on his cheeks, Kinich awkwardly cleared his throat and bid you goodnight, preparing to leave.

Ajaw exploded.

“This is painful to watch! You two were clearly made for each other—both equally cowardly and blind to each other’s feelings! Just admit you like each other already; you’re not fooling anyone! Kinich, you cowardly, brainless, insufferable insect—just lean in for that kiss, you obviously want to! And you! Stop waffling and just spit out that you like Kinich already! Agh, watching you two is torture! What did the great K’uhul Ajaw do to deserve this fate?!” he yelled, turning red in the face.

Kinich promptly locked Ajaw away, for which the saurian would later chew him out once he was free, but not before interrogating you and the hunter about whether you finally confessed. Once Kinich revealed that yes, you had talked it out and admitted your mutual feelings for each other and were now in a relationship, Ajaw could finally feel some sense of peace regarding the situation.

Feeling proud of his contributions, Ajaw puffed out his chest and told you and Kinich to pucker up and kiss his feet in worship, for only with the help of the Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw has your relationship progressed instead of stagnating like swamp water.

Though the saurian relic continued to be an annoyance, even Kinich had to admit that Ajaw played a part in getting you together. Though not in the form of worship or foot kissing, Kinich did repay the favor by procuring some quenepa berries and other fruits that Ajaw liked, hosting a small feast as a thank you. Though Ajaw complained about being scammed, the snacks did the trick of improving his mood and keeping him occupied while you and Kinich had some precious time to yourselves.

🦇 Ororon

Ever since you and Ororon were children, Citlali observed that the two of you got along well. So well, in fact, that Ororon had developed a little crush on you. He would pluck flowers from a nearby meadow to give you, follow you around like a loyal puppy, and one time, Ororon told Citlali that he hoped to marry you one day.

Citlali couldn’t help but find Ororon’s crush on you adorable, and a part of her anticipated the day when you both grew up and got married. She had no doubt you would make the sweetest couple among the Masters of the Night-Wind.

Ororon’s attraction to you persisted into adulthood. At that point, Citlali could no longer call it a cute little crush— “Love” was a more apt description for how Ororon felt towards you, even if he tried to hide the depth of his attachment to you. He was content to stay as just your friend and not risk ruining the close bond you had in case you didn’t return his feelings. Citlali was a little frustrated that Ororon continued to pine for you without doing anything about it, but she knew better than to force the stubborn boy to do something he didn’t want to. If you were both happy with the way things were, then why change them?

However, during one of her rare trips to the market for some divination supplies, Citlali overheard a conversation between two tribespeople. The topic of conversation was about love, and one of the men bashfully admitted that he thought you were pretty and that he hoped to ask you out on a date soon. This news washed over Citlali like a bucket of cold water as worry seized her heart.

This wasn’t the first time others had expressed romantic interest in you. After all, you’ve always had a bit of a reputation among the Masters of the Night-Wind for being attractive, so it wasn’t surprising others had an eye on you. However, now that you were an independent adult, it wouldn’t be strange for you to look for a partner to settle down with, right? Knowing Ororon, the dimwit wouldn’t ever think to confess, and what if someone else confessed before he did and stole your heart?

Citlali didn’t want to force you to choose Ororon, but she didn’t want things to end without her beloved grandson at least taking a shot at winning you over. The last thing she wanted was for Ororon to be left heartbroken and disappointed all because he let the chance to be with you slip from his fingers.

With these troubled thoughts, Citlali sought out Ororon and announced that he needed to stop dawdling and actively pursue you unless he wanted to watch your heart get stolen by somebody else. Citlali’s sudden proclamation confused Ororon, so she explained that he’s not the only one who is in love with you and that there’s a risk of you choosing someone else to spend your life with.

As she expected, Ororon stubbornly refused to go along with her urging, saying that who you wanted to end up with was your choice and he would respect it. Though he said that, Citlali could see it on Ororon’s face that the mere thought of you falling for someone else hurt him, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for her grandson.

After much convincing and reassurance, Citlali got Ororon to agree to court you and promised to come up with a plan to help him in this endeavour. There was, however, one major problem: how were two socially awkward outcasts supposed to win someone’s heart? Having never been courted herself, Citlali had no past experiences to draw from when designing her plan, but it shouldn’t be too hard, right? She’d read a lot of romance novels imported from Inazuma, so maybe if she got Ororon to do some of the same things the male leads did, then it would curry your favour? Regardless, it was worth a shot.

The plan was for Ororon to prove his worth as a suitable partner by giving you gifts, compliments, and always being there for you no matter what it was. In Ororon’s opinion, he was already doing all of these things for you as a friend, but Citlali insisted that his actions needed to be infused with romance to distinguish them from gestures of friendship. Her grandson was still reluctant to actively court you, but he had promised to try and try he did. Except, his approach subverted Citlali’s expectations.

When it came to giving gifts, instead of presenting jewellery, woven scrolls, or useful gadgets, the young man gifted you game he had caught in the wild and the best selection of produce from his garden. Citlali could only facepalm when Ororon told her which gifts he planned to give you, but she also knew he put genuine thought into them. Ororon handpicked the nicest veggies he could find in his garden and personally delivered them to your doorstep instead of sending Ifa like he normally would. Citlali told him that giving gifts in person held more meaning, and Ororon appeared to have taken her words to heart.

Ororon also gifted you flowers much like he did when you were little. However, this time he didn’t give you flowers plucked from the wild. Instead, he gifted you potted plants that he had also grown in his garden. “They will live and look pretty for longer,” he told you, then received a flick to the forehead once Citlali found out what he did.

His compliments were no better. Saying things like his vegetables grew better whenever you visited his home and spoke to his plants or your presence being calming for the aphids, was the best Ororon could do. Citlali admonished him for these strange compliments, but to Ororon, that was the highest praise anyone could receive. After all, you were an amazing person, and even his plants and aphids sensed it.

Ororon’s courtship was unconventional to say the least, and granny Itztli worried whether her grandson made a favorable impression on you. To help improve Ororon’s image in your eyes, Citlali sought you out more often to put in a good word for her grandson and get you to see him as a man. She highlighted Ororon’s good points to you, commenting how Ororon is a bit peculiar, but he’s also kind, resourceful, accepting, gentle, and so much more. A truly good kid. He would make an excellent romantic partner, wouldn’t you agree?

Her pushiness flustered you, but it also allowed Citlali to gauge how you felt about Ororon, and she had to contain her excitement when she pieced together that you loved him back. In her giddiness, she urged Ororon to confess.

When the day of the confession came, Citlali hid among some trees while keeping an eye on you and Ororon. She didn’t intent to spy, but the anxiety over how the confession would go made her antsy and she couldn’t sit still at home. She watched as Ororon offered you a basket of his finest produce and finally professed his love. The confession came out awkward because he tried to recite what he practiced with Citlali a few days prior, and he seemed to realize this because Ororon then took your hand and placed it against his chest. Using his own words this time, Ororon explained that he genuinely did love you, and the racing of his heart should be proof enough that you were more than just a friend in his eyes. However, it was alright if you didn’t feel the same way about him.

Citlali had to clamp her hands over her mouth to hold back from squealing in giddiness as she watched you reciprocate Ororon’s feelings. She would later apologize for spying since she knew it was wrong, but it filled her with joy to witness the blossoming of love between you. In some ways, this was better than any romance novel she had read in all her years of living, and it warmed her heart to see you both so happy.

Even if it was a childhood fantasy, perhaps Ororon’s wish of marrying you was not that far off now? Citlali certainly hoped so.

☂️ Wanderer

Nahida was no expert on romance, but she had observed enough couples during her 500-year-long imprisonment to know what romantic attraction looked like. The strange air surrounding you and Wanderer must have been that, she speculated, as she watched Wanderer hand you a box of your favorite foods with the flimsy excuse of having made too much. For your part, you seemed genuinely touched by the gesture despite Wanderer’s grumbling, much to Nahida’s delight. Wanderer’s prickly personality pushed some people away, but not you. You stayed by his side and gave him the companionship he needed, helping Wanderer open up and heal from his trauma.

It was clear you deeply cared for the young man, and a little peek into your mind confirmed to Nahida that yes, you did love him romantically. She couldn’t read Wanderer’s mind since he blocked all her attempts to do so, but she didn’t need mindreading to conclude that he loved you too.

When she next spoke with Wanderer, she carefully asked if he loved you. Wanderer’s response was a gruff “No” and “Stop asking”, however Nahida could tell he wasn’t being honest with his feelings. If he didn’t love you, then why did he treat you differently compared to everyone else? His manner of speech is gentler when with you, and despite all his grumbling he still complies with all your requests no matter how irritating he may find them. Not to mention, he spends most of his free time in your company, goes out of his way to make you little gifts and cook your favorite dishes. Surely all these behaviours were proof that you were someone special to him?

Being effectively cornered, the puppet had no choice except to come clean about his hidden feelings. With scowl and a blush on his cheeks, Wanderer reluctantly admitted that yes, he likes you, but it was none of Nahida’s business and she’d better stay out of it.

Despite Wanderer’s warning, the Dendro Archon wanted to help get you together. She felt confident that if both of you put in a little effort, a beautiful romance could blossom between you. Still, she didn’t want to outright reveal your feelings for each other. She believed that each of you should relay these intimate feelings yourselves. All Nahida would do is give you a gentle nudge in the right direction.

To help her with this task, Nahida sought help from a few Aranara and asked them to keep an eye on you and Wanderer and report any meaningful details that could help her bring you together. Through her little helpers, Nahida learned the full extent of Wanderer’s affections for you, and she couldn’t help but smile at how sweet he was, especially when it came to you.

Using this acquired knowledge, the Dendro Archon frequently brought up Wanderer in your conversations with her to explain the thoughtfulness behind some of his gifts and words. For as frank as he usually was with people, Wanderer was more close-lipped about the true extent of his feelings, so Nahida had some work cut out for her in making you realize how much he truly cared about you.

For example, the next time Wanderer gave you your favorite food with the excuse that he’d made too much, Nahida revealed to you that he actually spent several days perfecting the recipe before finally giving the dish to you.

That hand-made bracelet he gifted you, saying he got it for free during an arts and crafts event he visited? Wanderer actually made it himself during that event and used beads of your favorite colors. The Aranara watched him spend a lot of time crafting that bracelet with the greatest care, but Nahida left that part out.

In addition, she would subtly drop hints for you to invite Wanderer to hang out more often. For example, the Zubayr Theater was hosting a play and Nahida heard there was a discount if you bought two tickets. Why don’t you go and invite Wanderer to come with you?

As for Wanderer, she discreetly told him that you once mentioned wanting to try out a new drink at Puspa Cafe but had nobody to go with, so why not be a good friend and take you there himself? Wanderer initially objected, but ultimately caved in and invited you to the Café while commenting that a certain annoying sprout said you wanted to try a new drink there, though deep down he glad for the opportunity to spend more time with you. Nahida could tell by the way Wanderer went out of his way to spoil you that day, buying you anything you wanted and keeping you company until the sun set.

Little by little, Nahida softened Wanderer towards the possibility of being in a romantic relationship with you, and helped you gather the courage to confess. Wanderer was unlikely to ever confess first, so the responsibility rested on your shoulders. She could tell you were nervous about laying bare your feelings, but she reassured you that things would go well. You only needed to take that leap of faith.

When you finally confessed, Nahida and the Aranara secretly observed the scene from behind a nearby corner, curious to see how things would go while also quietly cheering you on (not that you knew). When a flustered Wanderer accepted your confession, Nahida was overjoyed. She had fun guiding both of you towards this moment, but the satisfaction of knowing you could finally be together the way you always wished was rewarding in its own way. Even when Wanderer later confronted her about spying on you during your confession and scolded her for it, the little Archon’s happiness didn’t wane. She looked forward to seeing what your newfound relationship would blossom into, and had no doubt it would be something beautiful and pure, just like your love for each other.

👁️‍🗨️ Cyno

It was no secret to Tighnari that you and Cyno liked each other. He had known about your mutual crushes as far back as your student days at the Akademiya where you first met. You became fast friends with him and Cyno, but Tighnari couldn’t help but think Cyno was a bit more special to you than you let on. After all, you were one of the few who wasn’t intimidated by Cyno’s perpetual stern facial expressions and actively sought him out, and who actually laughed at his lame jokes.

Tighnari also knew about Cyno’s crush on you since his friend confided about it to him. Not that Cyno needed to say anything because Tighnari could see his attraction to you clear as day. Cyno’s eyes lit up whenever he saw you in the distance, he tried to act “cooler” in your presence in an attempt to impress you, and Tighnari swore that if Cyno had a tail, it would have wagged like a dog’s every time you laughed at his jokes.

Though he knew about your mutual romantic attraction to each other, Tighnari didn’t want to stick his nose into your love lives. He figured you guys would resolve everything yourselves in due time.

However, nothing changed even after you guys graduated. Your group remained close friends and saw each other regularly, but Tighnari was starting to lose his patience with how you and Cyno hopelessly pined for each other. He had already lost count of the number of times each of you came to him for advice on how to win the other over.

Cyno asked Tighnari’s opinion on a lot of things: Would you like his newest joke? Would you be okay with Cyno volunteering to be your bodyguard for your upcoming desert excursion? Which of his limited edition TCG cards best represented you? Cyno wanted to express how much you meant to him by giving you a card that reminded him of you.

You were no better. Tighnari had lost count of the number of times you approached him with questions about Cyno’s work schedule. Your excuse was that you wanted to plan hangouts with him, Collei, and Cyno during their days off, but Tighnari knew there was another reason why you asked about Cyno’s schedule in particular. He had half a mind to tell you to ask Cyno yourself because it was obvious that you just wanted to spend more time with the General Mahamatra. You also pestered Tighnari with questions about Cyno’s TCG deck. Much like his friend, you wanted to express your appreciation for Cyno by giving him cards he didn’t have yet.

Seriously, you two were a match made in heaven…

Tighnari would have found your mutual crushes on each other endearing, if only he wasn’t stuck being the middleman. As it stood, Tighnari wanted nothing more than to throttle both of you for pussyfooting around your feelings and getting him caught up in being your messenger. He was on the brink of snapping and sitting you both down to explain that your feelings were mutual, so just hurry up and get together already.

That’s why the next time Cyno approached him with another question about you, Tighnari took the opportunity to convince his friend to confess. He and Collei assured Cyno that you liked him a lot, and urged him to tell you his feelings. Cyno was hesitant but did seem to want some closure about whether you liked him back or not, so Tighnari gave him an incentive. How about the next time he played TCG with you, you guys set some stakes? Why not have a rule that the loser must tell the winner a secret? If Cyno lost, he would have to confess.

Cyno wasn’t fond of the idea initially, but agreed after some contemplation, acknowledging that this method would be effective in giving him that necessary push. Still, Tighnari could tell Cyno was nervous about confessing, so he volunteered to come along as moral support, much to Cyno’s gratitude.

That was how Tighnari and Collei found themselves at Puspa Cafe, sitting a few tables away from you and Cyno, hidden from your line of sight. Tighnari tutored Collei while Cyno played that fateful round of TCG against you, but the Forest Ranger kept a close eye on his friend. Though he didn’t want to get too invested in Cyno’s love life, even he couldn’t help but grow anxious as he watched the TCG match end with Cyno’s loss.

Although Tighnari was too far away to hear what Cyno was saying, he could tell the moment of confession had come. Now, the ball was in your court.

You looked stunned by whatever Cyno said, but soon smiled and said something that made Cyno mirror the happy expression on your face and reach out to hold your hand. Though he couldn’t hear, Tighnari knew you had reciprocated his feelings. Even Collei quietly fawned over how cute you both looked. It had been a long journey, but he was truly happy for his friend. Out of everyone, Cyno was happiest with you, and Tighnari hoped you would continue to make him happy for many years to come.

With everything ending well, Tighnari beckoned Collei and discreetly left the cafe before you or Cyno noticed. As happy as he was for you guys, he dreaded the possibility of Cyno coercing them into a TCG match. With how elated his friend must be right now, it was only a matter of time until Cyno called him and Collei over for a new game to celebrate you accepting his feelings. In Tighnari’s opinion, you guys deserved to have some proper time to yourselves to explore your feelings and new relationship without him and Collei serving as thirdwheels. That, and he just really didn’t want to sit through another hour of watching Cyno show off for you.

[tawneybee]

Honestly obsessed with the "Humans are the cats of space" corner of the whole trope.

We may be seen as objectively adorable. We're tiny predators, vicious and mighty with teeth and nails, but also easy to pick up and hold and swing around while saying "Babyyyy"

We're quiet and sneaky in the wild, hard to catch and contain, very effective hunters and climbers. But when domesticated who wouldn't just lounge around if we're given free food, unlimited sleep, and constant enrichment?

And same with cats, there's a variety of how humans act and feel about these huge creatures taking care of us. Some of us might be very chatty, very affectionate, some probably clingy if we trust our Alien enough. While others don't screw with their personal space, would scratch and bite if you do something they don't like. The affection is at their pace cause otherwise you'll come out with a few scars.

As small as we are, the more wild independent humans have the strength and means to take down predators so much bigger than us when the situation becomes dire enough. There's been cats who've gotten dogs, wolves, and bears singlehandedly.

A human that's been in an alien family long enough would probably chase off a huge threatening space creature to protect the alien young, just as cats have done for human children.

Imagine after a few years of integration with aliens, some humans don't get by well with taking care of their children so they find an alien that looks responsible and careful enough and they leave their young on their doorstep so they can grow up with all the food and shelter they could ever need.

Maybe they have a human distribution system where a person who's just tired of the human world picks a ship to stay on, and the aliens on board just accept it because that's how humans are. Maybe they help provide pest control for those space creatures small enough to hide in hard-to-reach areas of the ship.

And even amongst all this agility and predatory instinct, humans can still be pretty dumb and airhead and ridiculous. Imagine how hilarious aliens would find it when we get jumpscared or sneeze or feel the random need to stim and run around. Alien puts a long sticky parchment on that crevice of our backs that's hard to reach and watches as we struggle to reach and take it off cause it's annoying, same way we might put tape on a cat's head. Maybe they find the funky way a human mom tries to carry her too-big baby funny the same way a mom cat dragging her too-big baby by the scruff is funny.

Maybe there's a language barrier, but Aliens notice our odd human sounds and mimic them to get our attention, but they struggle with the different sound and pronunciation we just hear random gargled calls of "Molasses!" "Tree!" "税金!" when they're just trying to greet us. And you learn to recognize the pattern of noises that mean whatever name they gave you in their language.

Humans really are just big cats.

[stxxrlights]

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐔𝐘...

suguru's the type of guy who carries your purse for you. he doesn't care about the strange looks he gets, he's just happy to hold your bag for you. whether you need to take a trip to the restroom or you're just tired of carrying it, he's there to hold onto it for as long as you need him to.

suguru's the type of guy who lets you play with his hair. he's very protective of his long lustrous locks, he he doesn't mind you combing your fingers through it. he finds it king of relaxing. he also lets you do his hair routine for him just so he can spend more time close to you and feeling your touch.

suguru's the type of guy who smiles when he talks to you on the phone. just the sound of your voice has the corner of his lips turning upward as he listens to whatever it is you want to say, be it something stupid or gossip you couldn't wait to tell him, other way he's still smiling as he imagines you infront of him talking to him.

suguru's the type of guy who enjoys cuddling up with you on movie night. it's just something about the way your frame fits his, your legs intertwined under the covers and him placing his chin on the top of your head. it's moments like these that he wants to live in forever, barely paying attention to the movie, just occasionally placing kisses on your ear, neck and cheek.

suguru's the type of guy who documents almost everything you do together. he had a special journal with your ship name on it where he writes each and everything about your day together. he of course does this in secret, he would die of embarrassment if you were to ever read what he writes inside.

suguru's the type of guy who has spa days with you. any random day of the week, you plan to do your skincare, haircare, pedicures, manicures, whatever it is, he has to do them with you. just so he can sit and laugh with you spending as much of his time he has with you.

suguru's the type of guy who rarely uses your name instead calling you cute names. his favourites are 'darling', 'pretty girl' and 'baby'. the only time he calls you by your given name is when he's being serious. he just likes how you smile everytime you smile when he calls you a cute nickname.

suguru's the type of guy who enjoys cooking together with you. playing a youtube tutorial and mixing the ingredients infront of you and soon enough, the tutorial ending up as background music as you're laughing together, a mess of your clothes from the spilled contents. he knows nothing ever gets done since you end up ordering food anyways, but at least he got to have some fun with you.

suguru's the type of guy who loves when you wear his clothes. it's just something about your frame being swallowed by his robes that has his heart melting. and the fact that when you walk around with his scent on you because your wearing his clothes, he just adores you so much.

suguru's the type of guy who always stares at your lips when you talk to him. he knows he should be staring into your gorgeous eyes, but there's just something about your lips. his mind can't help but wonder how your lips would feel on his even though you've kissed multiple times. he just can't help himself and kisses you right then and there.

[sinning-23]

Calling Them By Their Full Name

OPLA Headcannons! I thought htis was a funny little thing lol. Anyway enjoy

Warnings: slight mentions of nsfw topics but nothing too serious

Sorry for any spelling errors!

Luffy

-ohhhhh that did not sound like your usual happy, loving voice.

-he knows he fucked up and now he’s hiding from your wrath.

-���MONKEY D. LUFFY, GET YOUR ASS IN THIS KITCHEN. NOW.”

-you could hear a pen drop from how quiet the ship got

-ok so maybe he ate that super expensive, super special dessert you had been saving for a while now. And like, it was going to go bad! All he wanted was a little taste! Than a taste turned into accidentally eating the whole thing.

-He was gonna tell you, honest! But it had proven obvious you found out before he could. He seen you round the corner with RAGe on your face and tears in your eyes.

-"TRAITOR!" You yell, throwing a tired punch to his chest.

-“I’m sorry mami, I’ll find you another one. Promise.” He hums, peppering your face with kisses, squeezing your face between his palms when he did.

-There’s no way you could stay mad at him for long

Zoro

-whoa whoa whoa why are you so ANNNGRY

-hated when you call him by his full name like that, makes him feel like a child being reprimanded

-“RORONOA GODDAMN ZORO.” You boom, Nami’s jaw dropping at the sound. Even she could tell you were pissed

-he’s the sassiest mf alive so he’ll probably just be like, “who the hell are talking to woman?!”

-“You’re a real piece of work you know that??” You’re still yelling and he wastes no time rolling his eyes at you and grabbing you by your waist, the action shutting you up.

“Wanna stop yelling and be a big girl and tell me what’s wrong?” He teases, that stupid smirk you love falling over his features at your speechlessness.

-It’s not often you say his full make but when you do he makes sure you’ll never forget it that same night.

-“Say my name baby, real loud.” He groans, a hand around your throat to steady spent body as he slams back into you

Sanji

-I know thats not a cigarette i smell Vinsmoke Sanji."

-awe hell. Yout tone is deadly. he tried he damndest to stomp it out before you rounded the corner but nope.

-You never use his full name like that. Never.

-did he just get chills?

-"Of course not my love!" He lies throigh his teeth but before he can say anything ese you re lips are on his, you fist gripping the fabric of his shirt.

-He knew he was caught, the taste of tobacco mixing with your usual mint. You pull away, smoothing his shirt out with a warning smile.

-"Don’t lie to me again, I’ll always know when you do, Black Leg." You explain , taking the small cardboard box from his pocket and walking off.

-Even though it was ment as a threat, he couldn't help but feel hotter than ususal. God he loved it when you talked all serious to him.

Bonus: Mihawk

-You know better than to use his full name. Orr to even call him anything besides the usual endearing pet name.

-So when he hears his name called with nothing short of rage, hes trying to figure out who you think you’re talking to.

-"Dracule. Mihawk." You spit, holding the empty bottle in your hand

-Ok so your rage was warented cause he managed to drink the entire vintage bottle of wine you'd been saving...it wasn’t like it was on purpose!

-He doesn’t even bother to look up from his book, just barely giving you a slight glance when you were right in front of him, pointing to the bottle.

-"Id watch your tone darling." he warns, smirking at the way you purse your lips and turn away with a fierce attitude he'd be sure to deal with later.

-“Oh shove it up your ass Dracule.” You scoff, trying to quicken your pace but failing when he’s already behind you, his much larger hand holding your wrist as you yelp.

-His look says it all. You’re screwed.

-So now you’re sitting pretty, bent over and counting each time his hand meets the sore and slightly reddened flesh of your ass.

-“Now, what’s my name again darling?”

[e-rated-beardo]

Yeah so another panik in the fandom was not what I hoped to wake up to this morning.

That said, the article is pretty vague and, yes, it does say "pause" and "changes", not "cancellation" or "end". And that is hopeful.

(Sidenote, and if someone reading has any insight into how these sort of productions work, please hmu - what aspects of production are there to pause right now? Filming is supposed to start after the new year, and we've been told the script is finished, iirc. I realise a production is so much more than script + filming + post production but I really don't understand enough to have a clue what exactly they might be doing rn, that's worth pausing. Recruiting background cast? Designing sets and costumes?)

Good Omens people... this is a good thing. 😊

Pause: Not a cancelation. Which they easily could have done instead. Pauses are good things. It means they want the new season and see the value in making it, rather than in just canceling it, but they are smart enough to know that what they don't want is the disgusting creep attached to it and all the baggage that comes with that.

Neither, probably, do any of its lead actors.

Neither, of course, do we.

There are ways to get rid of him and we can tell that is likely what Amazon is working on making happen, based on the article also mentioning...

"Production changes": This is a way of saying that a producer's ass is getting fired. There's exactly one person whose ass could be getting fired in this situation.

It's speculative but I think a pause for some "production changes" might indicate that they're working on getting rid of him and buying some time to make that happen. It could take some time for Amazon to extract him from the process of S3, which would explain the pause.

If they didn't think they could do it-- or if they didn't see the value in trying-- they would have just canceled S3 outright, which they have not done. They also went out of their way to emphasize the "production changes" part of it so that's a good sign.

This is the best possible news right now.

[shy-writer-999]

Subby Ace + aphrodisiacs: your top turned bottom!

Summary: Poor Ace has gotten into something with sex pollen in it. He's a mess and you're the only person who can help him. There's something delightful about seeing your very dominant boyfriend reduced to begging, whining, and even crying for a crumb of your pleasure. CW: straight up SMUT. very very pathetic needy filthy whiny ace. afab reader w/gendered language ('princess'); sex, edging, masturbation, blow job, hand job, dacryphilia, overstimulation, you name it. countless orgasms from ace, use of 'good boy' and 'pretty boy.' minors do not interact - nsfw content!

Ace is so dramatic and sensitive in bed. It gets worse when he goes on an outing by himself, and just so happens to get exposed to some form of sex pollen. He staggers back to the ship and comes straight to you.

He just won’t stop cumming. He can’t stop cumming.

His face is twisted up in anguish and he’s frowning, genuinely so miserable you think he’s about to cry.

“Baby, please help me, I’m going crazy.”

His erection looks bigger than usual—you didn’t think that was possible, and for a split second you’re worried that it won’t fit at all. But of course it will. It has fit countless times before.

“I need you. I’m begging you, sweetheart, please.” He frowns and does puppy dog eyes at you. Your heart melts, but you have to set him straight.

“Ace,” you tut. “You don’t ever need to beg for me.”

“Can I, though?” He smiles back, and it looks like a bit of a grimace.

“I’ll allow it. But you have to do what I say, okay?”

Ace nods. “Of course.” He’s thrilled at the idea of you being in control.

You sit down on the bed next to him and rest a hand on his thigh. He flinches.

“Fuck.” You can see his cock jump through the fabric of his underwear.

A simple hand on his skin like this is enough to make him squirm? It’s going to be a fun night. He looks pathetic and miserable right now. His brows are bent at the middle and he’s doing the cutest, saddest little pout you’ve ever seen.

“Touch me more, beautiful,” he murmurs and closes his eyes, mouth hanging open in concentration. His mind is fixated how your cool skin feels against his, how soft your hand is, how close you are to his throbbing hard on.

Your fingers wander over his skin, conjuring goosebumps and shudders, eliciting whimpering sounds from Ace’s pretty lips. The whimpers quickly turn into muted sounds of pleasure.

Precum seeps through the fabric of his underwear and you pity him, reaching your fingers upwards to pull the waistband down. When his cock springs out, sure enough, it’s bigger than usual, a fact which is both troubling and tantalizing.

The tip of his long shaft is red, inflamed, and defined. It glistens in the light from the dim lamp in the corner of his cabin, highlighting the precum that smears his head and continues to seep out—it’s a ridiculous amount of precum. You’ve never seen this much before.

You take a moment to admire him. Your eyes wander from his erection to his defined abs and dark, thin happy trail. Your eyes meet his. His pupils are huge and there’s a visible sheen of sweat on his forehead that mats down the hair around his temples.

Ace is trying not to be impatient, but it’s hard because his body is screaming for attention.

“Please, princess. Use me. Do anything you want to me.” His voice comes out as a whisper, tinted in reverence, and bathed in lust.

When you hum in reply, you stand up, slipping off your underwear and bra. He scoots back onto the pillows and his thighs widen while you get on top of him. Your lower yourself down to sit on top of his erection. You don’t fuck him yet, though. You just lay his shaft flat on your core and stay there for a second.

Some teasing couldn’t hurt. So, you slowly start to roll your hips, rubbing yourself on Ace’s wet shaft. It’s starting to get you worked up, too, and before you know it, you’re soaking wet.

Gasp after gasp tumbles out of his mouth and no less than thirty seconds later, he starts to seize up below you, cumming on his lower abdomen. His breaths are shallow and ragged, and he’s lying there panting.

“Don’t stop,” he chokes out, again begging for something he knows he’ll get if he only waits patiently. “Please don’t stop.”

“Poor thing.” You lean down and kiss him. Even the mere feeling of your lips on his makes him let out the softest groan. He feels like his whole body is on fire, but it’s in a way he’s never felt before, different from the logia fire he’s so accustomed to.

His kisses quickly turn greedy and sloppy, and every drag of your aching core over his cock makes him let out repressed puffs of air in your mouth. Soon, he’s moaning straight into your mouth.

God, he’s so worked up it’s starting to be more fun than you imagined.

Lining up his sticky wet tip with your entrance, you finally start to sink down onto his cock, going deliberately slow so he doesn’t cum again (yet). But when he bottoms out, his hips buck up inadvertently, hitting your gooey hot spot inside.

“F-fuck, fuck,” Ace groans again. “Feels, ah, feels so good.”

He’s practically keening at this point, back almost arching off the bed, fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

You start to ride him slowly. Whatever way feels best. Sometimes you pull yourself up his shaft so only the tip is inside and plunge it back in, other times you keep him inside of you and grind your hips back and forth. One moment, you brace your hands on his chest for more leverage; the next moment, you lean in and kiss his neck, leaving love bites in a trail from his neck to his shoulder. The contact draws out a body-wracking moan from the dark-haired man beneath you—the sounds he’s making are delicious.

He cums aggressively again, hips jerking upwards. Each press of his cock up hits your g-spot and when he feels your body shift in response it drives him crazier.

Ace’s fingers are pulling you downwards, pushing himself deeper inside of you.

“Need more,” he chokes out.

When your legs start to burn, he does all the work for you. Muscly, rough hands come under your thighs, moving you effortlessly up and down until you’re the one cumming, writhing in ecstasy on top of him.

But Ace still doesn’t want to stop. “Keep going, please.”

He has the habit of saying please in bed. It’s endearing. When he asks so nicely, it’s hard to say no.

So, your hips move more. And more. And more. Until they’re numb and he’s fucking you stupid.

You’ve collapsed on top of him now, mewling in his neck from each thrust. “C’mon baby, give me another.” You murmur in his ear, voice seductive and honeyed. It’s all he needs to hear before he literally cums on command.

He’s usually an animal in bed. Buy boy, whatever sex pollen or aphrodisiac he ran into today is doing a number on him. You, very obviously, have no issue with it.

Feral sounds escape his lips while Ace pumps more of his hot seed inside. It’s seeping out of you, creeping down the sides of his body, and saturating the fabric of the bedspread below him. It’s going to leave a massive, milky-white stain. And he isn’t done yet.

“Keep going,” he looks absolutely pathetic. “Please, please, I—I’m going crazy.” He can barely get the words out, so pussydrunk and out of it that he’s on the verge of drooling.

You smile and kiss him on the cheek. “Missionary. But you’re going to go nice and slow, okay?”

Ace nods vigorously in return. He repositions. One of his warm hands is on your waist now, while the other gropes upwards to massage and caress your chest.

He takes his time, just like you told him. From this angle, you can see his face more—and it’s glistening, evidently he’s been crying. He’s been crying because of how good it feels. Something about the idea is wildly erotic. He wants pleasure so badly that he’s begging and crying over it, literal tears from those pretty brown eyes.

Every orgasm feels better than the last. He shoots more seed inside of you again, quickly, almost immediately upon entering you. But there’s a rebound period before his second orgasm where you decide to be a bit cruel.

“Slower, Ace.”

He complies, hips shaking, moving centimeters at a time. There’s so much cum inside of you that it’s almost sloshing out, squelching so loud you’re thankful no one is around to hear. His eyes are glued to where the cum seeps out of you, drinking up the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you with every pass.

Gravelly, obscene groans tumble out from him every second—it’s almost a constant stream.

“Wanna go faster,” he rasps, eyes snapping up to yours. You see more tears gathering on his lash line.

“Not yet, baby. Be a good boy and wait for it, okay?”

When he hears you call him that—good boy—a strangled sounding gasp erupts from his lips and his hips shudder. “Fuuuuhhhccckkk.”

Desperate, heaving breaths accompany his extreme efforts. He’s trying not to cum, trying not to buck and rut haphazardly and mindlessly into your cunt like some animal in heat.

A couple more moments of agonizing slowness pass. When you’ve decided he’s behaved, and when you’re similarly desperate enough, you give him the go ahead.

“Faster.”

His hips snap into action and he’s cumming again within a couple seconds. It’s amazing that he still has cum to give, that he’s not completely shooting blanks at this point, that he hasn’t drained his balls completely yet. But, surely, he’ll get there.

“Mmmpppphhhh,” he moans, deafeningly loud. “Ah, ah, fuck, f-feels so good, fuck.”

“Keep going, ‘m close,” you keen his name and his hips pick up the pace. Each time his cock pushes on your sweet spot it makes you see stars. You’re getting close and he’s getting overstimulated.

When you cum again the pleasure is white-hot and euphoric, buzzing every nerve in your body. Ace does the same—he’s too sensitive, can’t handle the feeling of your walls squeezing and milking him for long before he’s careening into his own wave of euphoria.

He slows down and starts to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. He’s sweaty and his body is hot. Looks like the sex pollen is making his devil fruit powers a bit harder to control.

“You want some more, handsome?” You ask, and he nods eagerly. When you move from underneath him, you ask him to lay on his back. Rifling through a bedside drawer, you bring out your vibrator. You usually keep it in his cabin because that’s where you get the most use out of it. But today, instead of using it on yourself, you’re going to try something new.

While you’re grabbing the toy, Ace reaches a hand down to start touching himself but you tell him to knock it off.

“You need to sit there and be good for me. Don’t touch yourself and don’t cum unless I say so, okay?”

When he hears your stern tone, Ace puts his hands behind his head, and peers down to see what happens next. It’s hard for him to stay still, but he tries his very best.

Situating yourself between his thick thighs, you turn the vibrator on and bring it to the head of Ace’s cock. He almost immediately starts to seize up. He’s going to cum again. But where would the fun be if you just let him?

You take the vibrator away and frown. “Do I need to tell you again? Don’t cum until I say so, sweetheart.”

He pouts and nods. You bring the vibrator back and put it on the lowest setting setting. He’s hardly holding on as is, but when you turn the vibrator’s speed up, he starts to writhe in pleasure.

“’m close,” he whines, biting his lip.

You take the vibrator off again, met with a strangled sounding cry of frustration from Ace. He takes a few minutes to cool back down until he’s ready for you to start again.

Twenty, no, thirty minutes pass like this until he’s on the verge of tears again. When you finally let him have it, he asks so nicely. It’s not like he hasn’t been asking nicely before, but this time his voice cracks and you can see the tears in his lash line.

“C-can I please, please cum?” He’s being so sweet and needy. It’s crazy to think this is the strong, courageous man who has protected you countless times. Reduced to a sniveling mess, asking for another orgasm.

You say yes. He’s being so polite, so why not?

After this orgasm, he’s almost ready to tap out. He can use his safe word, obviously but… he really doesn’t want to. It feels too good. He’ll keep going for as long as he physically can.

“You still have another couple to give me, right? Don’t you want to be good for me and keep going?” You say, looking up from between his thighs. The tip of his cock is inflamed from the relentless vibrating, and his abdomen is coated in a sheen of his own cum. He’s at the point where he doesn’t care about anything, fucked-out with his mind empty.

When he nods his head mindlessly, you take your turn. You sink down on his cock (again) and ride him for as long as it takes you to orgasm. For the record, it doesn’t take long, but Ace has lost track of time.

He’s being louder than usual. Every few seconds he lets out some form of a whine, a whimper, a “fuck,” a “please,” or a “’s too much.” His cheeks are bright red, accentuating those cute freckles, and his eyes are half-lidded. He’s so handsome it makes your stomach flip. He’s falling apart with minimal effort, and he’s all hands, too. He grabs handfuls of the plush skin of your hips and ass, kneading and getting himself more wound up.

Ace cums once while you’re working up to your own orgasm, then again when you’re cumming on his cock, and then a third time, when you pull yourself off his length and wrap a hand around his shaft. Every time he cums, you encourage and praise him. It drives him crazier.

“There’s a good boy,” you say. “Keep going for me. Don’t stop.”

You talk dirty to him while you give him one very long hand job. He eats it up, loves the idea of you speaking filth to nobody but him. Before you started seeing each other, he couldn’t imagine you had this sort of mouth on you—not in his wildest dreams. It’s his delight every time you’re in bed that you feel comfortable enough with him to talk like this.

“You’re just too sweet I can’t stop Ace,” your voice oozes in desire. “And you’re being so good for me.”

“’s good?” He slurs, holding your eye contact as much as he can manage.

“Mmmhm. Tell me what it feels like. Use your words, okay?”

His eyes flutter and his voice comes out as a whisper. “So good. F-feels so fucking good.”

You coo in his ear and bite his earlobe softly. “Don’t I always make you feel so good?” He nods in a silent reply, rocking his hips up to fuck himself with your fist.

As you milk more cum from him, he reaches a hand up—you initially think he’s going for your chest, but his hand falls on your cheek and he attempts to pull you into a kiss. He’s a bit weak in his current state, so you oblige him by leaning in.

It’s just gut-wrenchingly cute of him to be fucked dumb like this and still want to get kisses from you. He’s just thanking his lucky stars that you, of all people, is who he ended up with.

While you explore his mouth with your tongue, and cup his face with your free hand, his heart feels like it’s going to burst.

He cums again. The fact that he still has cum to give is preposterous in itself. You’ve lost track of time at this point, too.

You make him eat you out and he’s (understandingly) sloppy with it. His hot mouth feels just right on your core, and he pays just enough attention to your clit. Feeling you pull on his hair makes him feel more aroused than he thought possible.

So, he’s ready to fuck you again. He goes for another round in missionary, then puts you into a mating press. Afterwards, he gets tuckered out and you figure that he has one good one left in him, or, rather, he probably has more to give but he really should give it a rest after that. It would be way too cruel to make him keep going after this one, right? You’ll decide the answer to this question after he cums for you again.

“One more, Ace,” you pet his ruffled up hair and grace him with kisses. “You can do that for me, can’t you, pretty boy?”

He nods obediently.

“There you go,” you purr and start to trace your lips down his abdomen, licking up a small portion of the very large mess he’s made on himself.

His eyes widen as he realizes he’s about to get one of his very favorite things—a blowjob from none other than yourself.

He lifts his head up and watches in awe as you lick a long stripe up his shaft and then take him whole, hollowing your cheeks before you start to suck him off. You’re gentle at first, until he starts moaning louder, then you figure fuck it, he can cum. You let him off easy this time. He’s just been so good for you.

When you look up from your position between his legs, you make eye contact, nod, and then hum. It sends him over the edge. Ace’s fingers snake into your hair and he holds your head down as he cums down your throat.

“C-cumming, ‘m cumming, ah, fuck, fuhhhcckkk that feels good,” his groans are harsh and loud.

He’s so sweet afterwards that it’s heart melting. You know that he must be tired, but he doesn’t act the part. Not when you’ve been so good to him, when you’ve praised him, taken your time with him, coddled and kissed him. It almost makes you feel guilty how affectionate he is.

Pulling into you a long, tender kiss, he so sweetly says, “fuck, you’re perfect. I can’t believe someone like me gets to be with someone like you.”

You cup his cheeks and tell him to cut it out. Of course someone like him gets to be with someone like you. He’s perfect, after all. You cuddle him in bed for a while before he, again, very politely, asks if you’d help clean him up. He’s positively covered in cum and doesn’t want to stain anything else more than he already has. Seems like this is another pair of bedsheets that can be considered properly soiled. Not like that will stop you from doing the same thing in the future.

Now, where did he come across that sex pollen again?

this style of writing for me (when i just write straight up smut with no plot) is akin to a sort of slop. i am the lunch lady handing out scoops of questionable and most likely unsatisfying mush BUT sometimes on a good day it is delicious... i can only hope the slop today did not disappoint... >_> cant say this one is my absolute fave so apologies if it's trash T-T but i love the idea of him being so whiny like this..!!

check out my masterlist and also the best piece i've written on ace so far, if you liked this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

taglist @eggrollforyou

[nevadancitizen]

-> OH VIKTOR, MY VIKTOR (WHAT COULD'VE BEEN)

synopsis: viktor reality-skips and meets different versions of you, different versions of himself, and some sort of god, who tells him of an unyielding truth.

word count: 5k

ships: viktor/reader

tags: angst with a happy ending, fluff and angst, pre-established relationship, pre-season 1 act 3 (aka sky isn't dead (yet))

notes: this is me cashing in my birthday fic (as in i can write anything cause it's my birthday) so i rewrote my other viktor fic w a twist from his perspective

related reading: Rot in Purest Gold

It’s been six weeks since you… left. 

Well, ‘left’ isn’t the right word, and Viktor knows that. But it lessens the blow upon his heart and his mind to just say that you left. Like you took a vacation instead of just disappearing into thin air. But that doesn’t erase the memory of the blue arc of… something – natural lightning, artificial electricity, something else – coming from the Hexcore and touching you, and you just not being there the moment after. 

He had scrambled for you, his cane clattering to the ground as he grasped at the air where you just where. A chant of “No, no, no,” left his lips, and panic quickly wrung his chest until he felt like he couldn’t breathe – more than he usually couldn’t, anyway. His leg buckled beneath him and he held his hands to his chest as he fell to his knees, trying to hold onto whatever was left of you (which was… nothing).

It’s been six weeks of a cold bed, six weeks of not waking up next to you. 168 pills (two for pain, one to regulate high blood pressure, and one to dilate the bronchi in his lungs to breathe easier – all taken daily). 36 days of work, despite your insistence that he take both days of the weekend off. 

It’s been 42 days of you… you left. You didn’t die. Your body would’ve been here if you died. There’s no body, so you’re not dead. (At least, that’s what Viktor hoped and prayed for.)

But, for all that hoping and all that praying, he never thought about what he’d do if he walked into the lab one morning, with you just… waiting. Sitting on the workbench, cross-legged, looking out the window. 

He says your name – a rasping whisper, honestly – and you turn. 

A soft smile spreads across your face. It’s polite, but forced all the same. “Hello. Do you happen to know where I am?”

“You’re here,” Viktor says, breathless and unbelieving. He staggers forward the best he can while his body is still in this state of pseudo-shock. His mind is racing – the speed of the hexgates couldn’t even hope to compare.

“Uh… yeah. I am.” You look around the lab and pull your knees to your chest. “Pretty nice place you got here. You rich or something?”

The tip of Viktor’s cane drags along the ground – he can’t even bother to lift it properly as he makes his way to you. You probably can’t even begin to know what this means to him. Seeing you, you for real (not in his dreams, or behind his eyelids, or in photographs). 

Tears well up in his eyes and mist his vision. “My love… what happened to you?”

Viktor rests his hip on the edge of the workbench and reaches out to you, his hand trembling. You shift away, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion. 

“Excuse me?” You say. 

His body shakes as a sob racks through it, his teeth gritting together to suppress the ugly sounds threatening to escape him. Viktor is usually calm, controlled; the one with a royal flush hidden against his chest. But this poker hand isn’t one he recognizes – what game are you playing?

A look of panic washes over your face and you take Viktor’s hand, probably to try to soothe him. But in that instant where skin meets skin, something… happens. 

Viktor opens his eyes with a start. He sits up in bed, and his joints groan in protest. 

The bed is… plush. Many blankets and pillows with a straw mattress much too big for just himself. And the bedroom itself isn’t huge, but it’s much bigger than anything down in Zaun. (Probably something below average in Piltover.)

Viktor pushes the layered blankets off himself and hooks his legs over the side of the bed. He stands and grabs his cane. 

There’s a knock at the window above the desk across the room. He looks over, only to see you, smiling, perching on the outside window sill. You look younger – maybe fourteen, or fifteen?

The thought strikes Viktor just as he passes a full-length mirror propped in the corner of the room. He looks younger, too: the same age as you, most likely. His face still has remnants of baby fat, and it looks like he’s in that awkward stage where he’s yet to grow into his cane. 

You rap against the window again –

– and it’s not a window. It’s two doors. Big ones, at that; with armored guards with spears standing on either side. 

“Enter,” Viktor calls out. It’s an odd sensation – he wasn’t the one who commanded his lips to move, but it was his voice coming from his mouth all the same. Like he’s being puppeteered. 

The guards’ armor clanks as they pull open the door. You stagger through the entryway, gritting your teeth and clenching your jaw repeatedly. You look almost… manic. Crazed. 

As you come closer, Viktor observes you – no matter how hard he tries to move, he can’t. It’s like this body is his, but… not. He’s just an observer. He can’t approach you, hold you, even if you look different. He knows it’s you. 

Grey streaks through your hair, and deep scars litter your body, the nastiest above your heart on your bare chest. Your baggy pants are torn and bloodstained. Mud and dirt cover your worn feet. Your gaze is trained on the ground; you don’t dare to meet Viktor’s eyes.

You finally kneel before his throne. Wait – was he sitting on a throne all this time? Is he, like, a king or something?

You confirm his thought with a whispered, reverent “My Liege.”

“My warrior,” Viktor responds in kind. 

You begin to reach for him, but stop yourself. Instead you rest your hand on your knee. “The exile to the badlands… I – I wanted – needed – a conflict to call me back home. Back to you.”

Viktor thinks to himself as his disconnected body stays silent. Why would he cast you out, especially if you’re in such high standing? The scars on your body indicate numerous battles, and you being alive before him indicates you’ve won all of them…

“If I may have the honor…” You trail off. You glance up at him once, but don’t meet his eyes. You bow your head. “I would… it would bring me great joy to fight for you again. To be your chieftain once more.”

His body continues to stay silent. If King Viktor has any thoughts, he can’t hear them. Well… this might be an improvement from the last… reality? Since Viktor only had a few moments of seeing you before he jumped to another one. Wait – jumped? Skipped? He needs to get back home to discuss this with you further. (Never mind your apparent amnesia – he’ll deal with that when he gets to it.)

“When the vultures start to circle…” Viktor begins.

“I will keep my nerve still,” you complete for him, your head still bowed.

He hums appreciatively. A small sound telling you to continue.

“The badlands…” You shake your head. “We must bring order. There are no gods, no kings – only man. The people there are many, but they don’t know how to organize amongst themselves. They have nothing but pride to defend.”

“Pride is a powerful motivator,” Viktor says. 

“They speak of a crown for the victorious,” you say. “It shall be rightfully yours, if you allow me to conduct battle in your name.”

He takes you in. Your body is strong, chiseled, half-bare. You look battle-forged, molded in a crucible fuelled by hellfire. He can’t tell if the badlands have done you good or bad, but you stayed loyal to his kingly counterpart. That ought to count for something. 

Viktor holds out his hand, his palm upturned. You look up, your eyes trained on his hand before looking up and meeting his gaze.

A moment passes. Your face twists slightly, the corners of your lips turning down a little and your eyebrows coming together a bit. Your jaw starts to clench and unclench again. 

He turns his hand over, the back of it presented to you. You breathe out a shaky sigh and lift your hand from your knee. 

“May the true king rise,” you say softly. You take his hand –

– and then immediately flinch away, clutching your palm. You let out a low growl, your face contorting in pain. 

Viktor feels his stomach twist and his heart drop. He stumbles backwards into the corner of his cage, flexing his hands and digging his fingernails into his palms.

“No! No, no,” you say. You clench your hand, trying to stop your palm from bleeding. “No, Viktor. It wasn’t your fault. You just don’t know your strength yet, that’s all.”

You put your uninjured hand on one of the bars. “Please, Viktor. You’re hurting yourself.”

Viktor looks down at his hands. Sure enough, his fingernails have broken skin and his palms are starting to bleed. And, when he really looks at his own hands, they seem… different. His hands were comparable to King Viktor’s, but not to these. 

His hands are rough and big, almost paw-like. And the rest of his body is, too; it’s mutated and it’s wrong. 

He looks at you. You look… mostly the same. Your eyes are the wrong color and you’re a little bit shorter, but still. So why was he so different? What the hell happened to him?

“What…” Viktor’s voice is not his own. He’s not controlling it, and it’s deeper, his accent is thicker, and his words just barely slur together. “What did you… do to me?”

“I’m saving you,” you say readily. “You – you told me to continue the treatments…”

His eyes flutter shut. That’s right. He did. His disease is progressing and he is dying. This must be a truth in every reality. 

“Don’t feel guilty,” you say, your voice soft and reassuring. “It’s worth it. Everything is worth it.”

Viktor opens his eyes. You’re still there, still smiling through the pain and still by his side. You look at him with nothing but love.

He lumbers forward, his bum leg no longer as much of an issue. He raises one of his hands and gingerly presses his fingers against yours where they rest on the bars of his cage. 

“There you are,” you say softly. 

Viktor’s eyes sting with tears. He leans forward and presses his forehead against the bars, letting his eyes slide close. It seems like there’s two truths in every reality – his disease and your love for him. Even if he’s a monster, you love him. You love him. 

Surely, at home – in his base reality – you still love him. Somewhere, deep inside, there are remnants of your feelings… and Viktor would do anything to help you remember them.

A tear rolls down his cheek. “Here I am.”

“Oh, Vik…” You bring your hand to the side of Viktor’s neck, holding his jaw. “Don’t cry. You’re perfect.”

He lets out a shaky breath. He feels your lips meet his forehead – 

– and then pull away. There’s a crooked smile on your face, and there’s something around Viktor’s neck. 

He looks down, noticing a necklace you must’ve slipped on him while distracting him with a kiss. It’s sparkling with diamonds and white gold, but speckled with blood. He takes it off and puts it on the desk in front of him.

“Money is easier to process,” Viktor sighs. He shifts in his seat and crosses his legs. “But I appreciate it.”

“I put a whole lotta effort into gettin’ you all these nice things,” you say, your tone holding a twinge of a whine. You sling your arm around his shoulders and lean in. “Do all them families without pig-cop-daddies mean nothin’ to you?”

Viktor breathes in, then exhales slowly. He puts a hand on yours where it rests on his shoulder. “It means the world to me.”

You laugh and squeeze his shoulders, pressing the tip of your nose against his temple and knocking his glasses askew. Even though Viktor still feels… trapped in this body, for lack of a better term, this is nicer than the body he was in before. You’re warm against his cool skin, and he can feel himself smiling. 

He allows you to continue your clinging as he flicks on a bright lamp and picks up a small magnifying glass. The word comes to mind – loupe. He hums softly as he brings the necklace close to his face, inspecting it with a careful eye. 

“The white gold is real,” he says. “Most of the gems are real diamonds. Some of the smaller pieces are substituted with quartz. The piece looks relatively old, so they are more likely to be blood diamonds rather than lab-grown.”

You rest your cheek on Viktor’s shoulder. Your hand moves away from his other shoulder, instead tracing shapes into his back. “How much d’you think it’ll go for?”

“Our usual fence is shifting something big in Miami,” he says. “If that deal goes well, and she’s in a good mood… maybe twenty thousand?”

Viktor can feel you smile against his clothed skin. “Mh… I hope.”

“And the duffels you and the others brought back…” He sets the loupe and the necklace down on the desk. “How much do you estimate?”

“Maybe… half a mil each,” you say. Your hand moves further down his back, tracing over the notches in his back brace. “Silco has been talking to Danske Bank – they’re willin’ to launder. He also has an investor in Bosnia lined up.”

His stomach drops at that name. Silco. But… he might be different. Viktor’s different, you’re different – it’s almost as if you’re part of some sort of robbery group, with Viktor as a mediator with the fences. The blood on the necklace and the duffel bags full of money are evidence enough. 

“Maybe we can take a trip there,” Viktor says, leaning back into your touch.

“Vik…” You laugh. “I’m on, like, seventeen ‘do not fly’ lists.”

He lifts a hand and runs a few fingers down your jaw. “When has that ever stopped you?”

You hum and lean into his touch, silently acknowledging that, no, a simple piece of paper (and the authority behind it) has never even given you the slightest bit of pause. “Why, ain’t you the smartest gemologist there ever done was…”

“You are quite the flatterer,” Viktor hums. 

“Only the best for the love of my life,” you say softly. 

His heart roars in his chest and he’s smiling so wide he’s sure he looks stupid. A breathy laugh escapes him and he turns, holding your warm face in both his hands. 

You scrunch up your nose and screw your eyes shut, your smile big as you put your hands over his. Your laugh is soft and giggly when he pinches your cheeks lightly. 

Viktor leans in, but his mental projection onto this body is so strong that it actually hesitates for a moment. This is… a different version of you. But he’s also a different version of himself – one that’s in love with this version of you. Besides, he doesn’t have that much control of this body, anyway. He’s missed you so much he can’t bring himself to care. 

It’s almost as if you can feel his close presence, or his breath on your face, or maybe you just want to kiss him. His thin, chapped lips meet yours – 

– and your lips feel rough, with patches of moss smattering across your face. 

Viktor pulls away, one hand still splayed across your cheek, the other holding himself up with his cane. You bring him away from your face, and he can take you in in full. 

He’s standing in the palm of your hand. You’re huge; sitting, you must be a story and a half tall. Your skin is covered – no, actually, you’re made of wood, twisting branches and trunks and bark making up your entire body. A winding crown made of bramble sits atop your head. Golden flowers, almost glowing, bloom across your collarbone and up one side of your neck, the petals looking almost silk-like. Your face is a simple blank mask, but Viktor can tell how you feel. The intrinsic connection between you two is almost tangible. 

You hold out a finger towards him, then slowly, carefully ruffle his hair. Viktor feels a little like a doll, but the care and caution you use when handling him causes delighted laughter to bubble up his throat. 

He leans into your touch, and a moment later, he realizes it’s of his own volition. He’s not trapped – his thoughts match his body, and he can do whatever he pleases. The very idea brings a smile to his face.

You make a sound that’s vaguely affirmative, kind of like cooing. You run your fingertip across the shell of his ear and past his pulse point, tipping his jaw up. 

He looks up at you, that content smile still on his face. “Yes?”

You (again, slowly, carefully) move him close to you. With your free hand bracing against the ground, you stand. Wind batters Viktor, but he blocks most of it out when he hides against the flat, broad expanse of your chest. 

When you stop moving, he looks over his shoulder across the vastness now exposed to him. Roots of trees reach from the ground into the night sky. Some are weaved together neatly, some are jerked into tight knots, some seem to be isolated from all the rest. None are the same. Everywhere Viktor looks, it’s crowded, with roots from one collection traveling a ways before joining another knot or weave or lattice, then another. 

“What… is this?” Viktor asks.

“Behold the beauty, the interconnectedness of all realities,” you say. Your voice is deep and rumbling – it reminds him of the far-away explosions he’d hear in the mines as a child. “Lo, Viktor, witness the cosmos. We nurture its essence, lest each fragile existence come unraveled.”

“We?” Viktor echoes, looking up at you. 

You look down at him, then raise your free hand to lovingly caress the flowers blooming on you. The color of the petals almost seem to match Viktor’s eyes. “Yea. We.”

You look forward and take a slow step that thunders when your foot meets the ground. The roots of the trees groan and whine as they bend out of your way as you walk. “Not long ago, I beheld a reflection of my own being… they were of your kind – small and frail, bound by the same fleeting fate. Dost thou know of this encounter?”

“I… did not know of this, no,” he says. 

You hum, and it sounds like the rolling tide of an avalanche. “Yes. It is as I thought.”

Viktor watches as you reach up to a particularly intricate weaving of roots. Your fingertips grow branches and intrude the plait, lacing themselves into it. 

He reaches out and splays a hand over the pad of your thumb as you… work? He’s not sure what you’re doing, actually. He doesn’t try anything else – just slowly lets his fingernails drag and catch on the dips of your thumbprint. It’s almost peaceful like this. Not trapped in his body or forced to say words he doesn’t mean. 

“Doth that reflection of my own being recall thee?” You ask softly. (Well, as softly as you can ask, anyway.) “Or art thou but a wisp of memory, lost in the abyss?”

“They… they do not remember me, no,” Viktor says, his voice hesitating despite himself. “I do not even know if they would wish to have their memories back.”

Your fingertips slowly retreat from the lattice. “Thou and I art entwined, Viktor. A truth, unyielding – two fated souls, forever bound in every existence. In all realms, thou art bound to me, as I am unto thee. This truth cannot be undone; not even by mine own hand.”

“In every existence…” he repeats, a whisper to himself. The thought – fact, as you had pointed out – makes his chest swell. 

Viktor gets interrupted when he feels something make contact with his foot. When he looks down, a root, skinny and scaly, is winding around his ankle. It reaches underneath his pant leg, and when it touches his skin –

– it’s you caressing Viktor’s ankles as he rests his feet in your lap. 

Nothing to be scared of. Nothing to be afraid of. Everything is fine. There are no cosmos, no alternate universes and nothing to worry about. 

The living room is warm and comfortable and it smells like home. It smells like you and sweetmilk. Fast-moving, sequential images are being displayed on a weird, skinny box – it’s a television. Something is playing on the television. 

A rather… odd-looking man is sitting behind a table stocked with various candies and foods. He throws a handful of colorful candies in his mouth and chews. After a few moments, his shoulders start shaking in either subdued laughter or poorly-concealed terror – it’s hard to tell. 

“It tastes like hamburger meat,” the man cries. “It tastes like raw hamburger meat!”

You laugh, and Viktor finds himself laughing with you. He doesn’t know what he’s laughing about. What’s a hamburger? A food. It’s an American food. What’s America? Stop asking questions.

“I am nothing if not a scientist,” Viktor says out loud. “And scientists ask questions, do they not?”

He turns to you and you have the wrong face. Distorted, melted. He opens his mouth to scream –

– and finds the breath stolen from his lungs. 

You have the root crushed beneath your finger. It crumbles and withers away under the slight pressure.

“Pardon the interruption,” you say. “The feeble realities… they yearn for the conscious, intelligent soul. Thy mind must be a feast most bountiful.”

Viktor gasps, recovering from the mental whiplash. Then, after a moment, he smiles slightly, a soft breath passing his lips. “I would like to believe that it is.”

“More shall seek. They sense thee, crawling forth for whispers of memories remaining.” You move a bit faster now, with more purpose. “We must return thee to thine reality. Mine own dear Viktor slumbers… soon, the time comes for it to wake.”

You continue moving at a quicker pace, but it’s clear you’re making sure not to knock Viktor out of your hand. The roots groan and give soft cracking noises that leave him worried as you continue on your path. 

Viktor clocks what you said a second later. “Wait, your own Viktor?”

“Indeed,” you say. “For now, it slumbers. This is for the preservation of both your fates.”

“Your Viktor is in danger?” He asks. 

“Nay. With every shard of my being, I shield it from danger unknown,” you say. “Such potent, restless souls dwell within you both. I shall not tempt risk and allow both thine eyes to open at the same time.”

Before Viktor can question you further, you slowly come to a stop in front of a ball of roots – a delicate lace made of strong wood. He feels an intrinsic, instinctual pull to it; like how an animal doesn’t know the word ‘hunger,’ but eats when it’s hungry. He doesn’t know the word or the feeling he has toward this thing – this reality – but he needs to interact with it. Needs to be back in that reality, his base reality.

“Hark,” you say. “Thine home.”

You reach out to it, invading it with your branches like you did to the one before. They snake their way through the intricate weaving.

You then look down at Viktor and bring him up to your collarbone, close to the golden flowers. Up close, the petals are whorls and swirls of golden yellows, and the stamen are crimson at the base with off-white tips. 

“Dost thou not behold the beauty of my dear Viktor?” You ask. 

He stops himself from touching one of the petals and looks up at you. “This… this is me?”

“Indeed,” you say. “A reflection. Brush over the blooms. It shall lead thee back to thine home.”

Viktor takes a step forward and brushes his hand over the flowers. A chime sounds, and pollen falls – well, it doesn’t really fall so much as it floats in the air. 

A translucent, almost celestial figure appears from the flowers and pollen, curled up with its eyes closed. As it hovers, it morphs for a few seconds, then becomes a reflection of Viktor; naked, warm, peaceful. A small smile rests on its lips. 

“Lo, witness my harbinger. My Viktor, the conduit of fate,” you say. “A catalyst for thine return. Touch, and behold its might — your might.”

Viktor looks up at you. 

“Be not afraid,” you say. Your voice shifts, and it’s no longer deep and thunderous and godlike. It’s yours. It’s the voice you have in Viktor’s reality. It’s the voice you use when you’re marveling at his beauty, when you make him turn soft and mushy and romantic. “They wait for thee, Viktor. Who art thou to deny thine beloved?”

And something in him cracks and blooms, like a weed through the concrete slabs of Piltover sidewalks. Viktor reaches forward and touches his reflection’s shoulder. 

His reflection breathes out a sigh, a pink mist leaving its mouth. It slowly uncurls, then opens its eyes and turns to Viktor. 

Their eyes meet –

– and he’s home. He’s in the lab, still holding your hand in a crushing grip. 

Your eyes go wide and your breathing starts to turn labored. Viktor is still crying. Tears well up in your eyes in response.

“Viktor,” you whisper, your voice warbling. 

He whispers your name in return. Quiet. Disbelieving.

You let out a choked, ugly sound, and scramble for him, almost falling to the ground as you get off the workbench. You wrap him up in your arms and he holds you close, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re really here,” Viktor says, his voice thick and sticky. 

“I’m here,” you sob. 

He pulls away just a little, just enough to see you, to take the true you in again. Your face is twisted in heavy emotion, and yet, you still look so gorgeous. Fat tears roll down your face and you can’t stop crying, but you’re all that Viktor ever wants. 

“I never thought I would see you again,” he says softly. “When you – it…”

He tilts his head forward, touching his forehead to yours as his eyes close. “I was so scared. I thought…”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” You laugh weakly. 

“What? No, no, don’t say that.” Viktor moves his hands, one now holding your face and the other resting on the back of your neck. “I would never get rid of you. Never, never in a thousand years.”

You put your hand on his where it rests on your cheek and relax into his touch. A moment later, you gasp, turning away from Viktor. “The Hexcore!” 

You look around, then spot it silently hovering above its place on the workbench. It doesn’t make any noise, doesn’t spit blue arcs of lightning, doesn’t do much of anything. 

“Is it…” You trail off and sniffle. “Is it stable?”

“We have not so much as touched it since you left,” Viktor says. “We did not want to risk anything… not until I got you back, at least.”

“You got me back?” You turn back to him with a smug smile playing on your lips despite the drying tears on your face. “Possessive.”

He laughs and returns to his rightful place, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Yes, maybe. But you cannot blame me, no? You have been gone, and I… I have been afraid.”

“I’m here now,” you say softly. Your arms wrap around him and ensure he stays close. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Viktor says. 

You hum and rest your head in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He remembers you fawning over the faint scent of sweetmilk that hid under the smell of electrical smoke, smiling and telling him that it made him ‘even cuter.’ (But you had complained about the smell of rancid smoke. You told him to go get a change of clothes soon after.)

“I’m exhausted,” you say softly. Your voice is so quiet only he can hear, like it’s a whisper, like it’s a secret.

Viktor pulls away just slightly, then guides you to the plush sofa hidden behind the blackboard. He wheels it out of the way and waits for you. 

You lay down and stretch out, wiggling until you’re comfortable. You reach behind your head and prop your head up with your forearm, then pat your chest in a silent invitation.

Viktor props his cane up against the side of the sofa and carefully lays down on you, slotting himself against your body. You’re just as warm as he remembered. Your free hand strokes his messy, untamed hair, and it’s like you were never apart from him. 

He silently promises himself that this will never happen again – this separation will never happen again. The Hexcore will be dealt with, whether that means taming or destroying it. 

Viktor will never leave you again. Just like the god-you said, with every shard of his being, he will protect you. He may be a dying cripple, but a dying cripple doesn’t have a lot to lose. 

“Thou and I art entwined, Viktor. A truth, unyielding – two fated souls, forever bound in every existence. In all realms, thou art bound to me, as I am unto thee. This truth cannot be undone; not even by mine own hand.”

The voice of god-you, deep and thundering, whispers in the back of his head. The thought gives Viktor comfort. 

He slides his hand underneath you, holding you just as you’re holding him. He’s not letting you go, not for a while. As long as you’ll have him, he’ll be yours.

Come hell or high water, he’ll always be yours. He doesn’t have that much energy to fight that fate anyway. (Nor does he really want to.)

[amirasainz]

What about Norris reader (17) and Oldie and Kimi Antonelli have a crush on her. Lando, ever the overprotectiv brother, doesn't like this and the other drivers use it to their advantage, because they find this really funny. Reader is just clueless and thinks the boys are really sweet to her♥️♥️

Wait, why do I ship these three??

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo, babygirl 💕

Two for one

The bustling energy of the Mexican Grand Prix electrified the air as Yn Norris wandered around the paddock, wide-eyed with excitement. Her older brother, Lando, had arranged for her to come along this weekend, and she was thrilled to be there. Being just seventeen, this was one of her first big Grand Prix weekends on her own, without her parents or siblings (except Lando) and she couldn't wait to soak it all in.

As she explored the paddock, she suddenly heard her name being called. Turning around, she found herself face-to-face with Kimi and Ollie, both of whom had driven in Free Practice 1 that day.

"Yn! Fancy running into you here," Ollie greeted with a wide grin.

Kimi smirked, giving her a casual wave. "So, what do you think of Mexico so far?"

Yn smiled brightly. "It’s incredible! I’m so happy Lando invited me."

"Oh, he invited you, did he?" Kimi asked with a sly grin, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting Lando to pop out of nowhere.

Yn laughed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, but he’s already being overprotective. He thinks I'm going to, like, get lost or something. I just wanted to go look around by myself, but he practically assigned me a bodyguard."

Kimi and Ollie exchanged amused looks. "Well, we’re here now. So, if you need someone to show you around or keep you company, I think we can handle that," Ollie offered.

"Yeah, you’re in good hands, Yn," Kimi added with a wink.

---

A little later, Lando noticed Yn with Kimi and Ollie, and immediately, he felt his older brother senses tingling. He walked up to them with an exaggeratedly casual stride, hands stuffed in his pockets but eyes locked onto Kimi and Ollie.

"Hey, Yn," Lando greeted her, then quickly turned to Kimi and Ollie. "What are you guys up to?"

Ollie raised his hands defensively. "Just chatting with your sister, mate. Nothing serious."

Kimi chimed in, smirking slightly. "Yeah, just giving her some company. It can’t be fun to wander around here alone."

Lando narrowed his eyes. "Well, she’s not alone. I’m here."

Yn rolled her eyes. "Lando, I’m fine. You don’t have to act like I’m five."

"Yeah, Lando, she’s fine," Ollie teased, nudging Lando’s arm. "Besides, it's not like Kimi and I are troublemakers."

Max, who had been watching from nearby, wandered over, grinning as he picked up on the situation. "Oh, looks like little Norris has some admirers."

"Yeah, careful, Lando," Checo joined in, laughing as he walked by. "You know, they say these drivers are charmers. Better keep a close eye on her, or she might run off with them to Yucatan."

Lando scowled, crossing his arms. "That’s not funny, guys."

Ollie looked at Yn, feigning a wistful expression. "Yucatan, huh? That could be fun."

Yn rolled her eyes again, laughing. "Ignore them, Ollie. You’re all acting like children."

Kimi leaned closer to her. "Maybe. But you know, Yucatan does sound like a pretty great idea."

Lando stepped in between them, giving Kimi a warning look. "Don’t even think about it, Antonelli."

Kimi laughed, but there was a hint of nervousness. As much as he enjoyed teasing Lando, he could feel Lando’s big-brother protectiveness radiating off him in waves. Still, he couldn’t resist pushing a little.

"Relax, Lando," Kimi said, holding up his hands. "We’re just here to make sure Yn has a good time."

"Under my supervision," Lando shot back, narrowing his eyes. He put an arm around Yn’s shoulder. "You’re staying close to me for the rest of the weekend."

Yn groaned, but Lando’s resolve didn’t waver.

---

The next day, Lando was more determined than ever to keep an eye on his sister. Every time Kimi or Ollie got close, he’d swoop in, leading her away or blocking their paths.

Eventually, Pierre caught onto the whole situation and couldn’t resist chiming in. "You know, Lando, if you keep this up, you’re going to scare away all her potential boyfriends."

Lando shook his head, exasperated. "That’s the plan, Pierre."

Carlos joined the fun, laughing. "Be careful, Lando. Vegas is just around the corner. Blink, and she might end up running off with Kimi or Ollie. Maybe even both."

Ollie, who had overheard, grinned, raising his eyebrows at Yn. "What do you think, Yn? Should we book tickets?"

Yn chuckled. "Oh, please. Lando would probably have a heart attack before we even left the airport."

Lando glared at them. "I’m serious. You two better not get any ideas, you stinky whankers."

Kimi shrugged, but his smirk didn’t fade. "Relax, mate. We’re just keeping her company."

Charles joined the group, looking thoroughly entertained. "I can’t wait for Vegas now. If this is how Lando is in Mexico, Vegas will be legendary. Maybe we’ll all get invited to Yn’s wedding."

Lando groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You all are impossible."

---

As the weekend progressed, Kimi and Ollie kept finding small ways to get Yn’s attention. They’d save her a seat, bring her snacks, and keep her laughing with stories and jokes. Each time, Lando was there, watching like a hawk.

At one point, Yn turned to him, exasperated. "Lando, seriously. I’m just hanging out with friends. Can you please relax?"

"I am relaxed," Lando replied, not convincing anyone.

Yn shot him an annoyed look. "You’re practically breathing down my neck."

Ollie leaned in, whispering, "Told you he’s overprotective."

Kimi chuckled. "You’re handling it well, though."

Yn laughed, shaking her head. "I think it’s actually you two who are nervous around him."

Both Ollie and Kimi exchanged guilty looks, though they quickly covered it with their usual confident smiles. But every time Lando was around, they seemed to straighten up a little, wary of his watchful eyes.

---

On race day, things hit a peak. Kimi and Ollie had managed to catch Yn alone, and they were chatting animatedly about everything from their goals in racing to funny stories from the paddock. Yn was laughing, completely unaware of the fact that both boys were subtly vying for her attention.

But it didn’t take long for Lando to find them, and he wasted no time inserting himself into the conversation.

"Hey, Yn, you ready to come to the garage?" he asked pointedly.

Yn glanced at Kimi and Ollie apologetically. "Duty calls, I guess."

Ollie gave Lando a pleading look. "Come on, Lando. Let her hang out with us for a bit longer."

Lando raised an eyebrow. "Why, so you two can keep flirting with her?"

Kimi flushed, stammering, "W-We weren’t—"

Yn stared at him in surprise. "Flirting? Seriously, Lando? We’re just friends."

"Exactly," Lando said, taking her by the arm. "And that’s all you’re going to be."

Max and Charles, who had been watching the entire exchange, burst into laughter. Charles clapped Lando on the back. "Relax, Lando. You’re acting like you’re her father."

Max nodded, grinning. "Good luck keeping her under control in Vegas. Don’t be surprised if she elopes with one of them. Or both."

Lando scowled, his grip on Yn’s arm tightening slightly. "Not happening. Not on my watch."

Yn sighed, throwing Kimi and Ollie a helpless look as she was guided away. They exchanged amused, slightly nervous glances, but it was clear that they weren’t about to give up. She blew them a kiss, which both Kimi and Ollie pretended to catch. Ollie put his "kiss" to his heart while Kimi put his on his cheek.

As Yn and Lando walked off, she glanced up at her brother, shaking her head. "You know, if you keep acting like this, no one’s ever going to want to date me."

"That’s the point," Lando muttered under his breath.

Yn laughed. "You’re ridiculous."

"And I’m your older brother," he replied, smirking. "Get used to it."

Behind them, Kimi and Ollie shared a look, nodding in silent agreement. They’d have to work harder to get Yn’s attention without incurring the wrath of overprotective older brother Lando. But they weren’t about to give up. After all, Vegas was coming up soon, and as much as Lando hated to hear it, the weekend held endless possibilities.

[ikeuki]

and the world kept spinning ! / 니키

( pairing ) nishimura riki x fem!reader ✶ grumpy x sunshine ; fluff/crack, light cursing + one mention of a dealer/"product" — ( wordcount ) 1.3k

ᯓ★ ikeuki’s note. mr. nonchalant is not so nonchalant now…HE’S SELLING !!!

synopsis. after getting detention on picture day, riki swears he hates you—his actions do not follow his words however.

“i'm gonna dip at lunch.” jake decided and laid back.

“same i have a bio test during fifth that i'm not trying to do,” heeseung added and leaned on the classroom’s wall.

it was routine for the older boys to accompany riki in his class before the bell rang since they all had class without him. riki’s classmates refused to even look to the back of the room where the delinquents were sprawled out.

jake was trying to paper football with sunghoon, having his legs on some poor kid’s desk and flicking a triangle “football,” made out of that same kid’s notebook paper.

sunghoon was half-playing with jake and half-on his phone. his additions to the conversation were the occasional “mhm” and “yeah i'm down.”

jay was sitting in front of riki, turned around with his arms resting on the chair. he continued speaking to heeseung, who was by the window, about their plans to ditch.

“um since when do you take bio?” jake asked, repositioning his little football before flicking it across the desk, through sunghoon’s goal.

“since forever—just haven’t been to actual class yet,” heeseung answered with a laugh.

“so riki, you gonna ditch with us?” jay asked the younger boy who was carving random drawings on his desk with an overly sharpened pencil.

“uh i don't know...my mom's been on my ass since i ditched on monday, she got a call from the school or something,” riki mumbled, keeping his eyes on the smudged lead in front of him.

he was still upset at how the school dean reported riki leaving the school premises during picture day. everyone else was doing it and he just happened to be the only one who got caught. maybe if he wasn't so distracted that day...

“you’re joking—they still do that?” jake asked.

“apparently.” he recalled that day, when he was waiting in line to get his picture taken so he could slip out unnoticed. unfortunately, his long last name prevented him from leaving in the morning like the rest of his friends and was stuck in the stuffy gym for more than three hours.

he thought it was pretty unproductive. on the school’s part. the students would all line up then go to class once done. but since they can’t monitor each student leaving, they’re giving everyone a one way ticket out of class!

moments before his impatience was going to kill him, he was distracted by a vanilla-scented girl who would click her heels nonstop.

aka, you.

after your little interaction, riki swiftly exited the gym, but not before turning to watch you take your picture through the door's window. you smiled softly, teeth showing naturally with your lip gloss shining under the reflective screen.

you easily listened to his advice, his scoff turning into more of a subtle smile. his eyes followed your figure hop off the black stool and pick up your freshly printed student id.

"hey!" a voice called from down the hall.

riki whipped his head towards the sound to see a man walking towards him, "why aren't you in class!" oh shit, it was the dean.

thus, he got detention and the dean called his mom to tattletale his "ditching." he blamed it on you. if you hadn't clicked your stupid little heels, he would have never talked to you and then would have never stood there outside the gym, out in the open for any hall monitors (or deans...) to come and catch him.

now he had to bail on his friends and was in deep shit at home. all because of you and your stupid heels. and stupid curls. and stupid vanilla-scented perfume. whatever!

jay continued talking about their afterschool activities and heeseung shared that his dealer just shipped new product. uninterested in the conversation, riki turned his head to the window. his eyes drifted outside where students were rushing to class.

he skimmed through the various students he never cared to look twice at. until a familiar figure emerged from the hurried crowd.

wait—soft and shiny hair, little black heels, and the freshly pressed school uniform that never looked this good on any other student. riki knew that girl anywhere.

you were chatting away with your friends, too immersed in whatever you were saying to notice the steps by the front of the building. your mouth was moving at the same speed as your legs. failing to see the four steps ahead of you, your little black heels tripped on the first one.

riki instantly stood up. pushing back his chair and desk and watching as you fell forward. the loud movement from his desk attracted the attention of everyone in the class, turning to watch their silent, mysterious classmate become the star of the spotlight. riki didn’t even notice though, his eyes glued to your clumsy figure.

“dude—!” jake exclaimed at the sudden movement.

“what the fu—” jay moved back.

luckily (not for riki), class president and top student, yang jungwon managed to step forward just in time to catch you. the scene played out like one from a kdrama, him swiftly turning you on your back and making you lock eyes with your savior.

riki watched from across the courtyard, three stories above, and through the window as you two smiled at each other before you awkwardly got to your feet. he watched as you patted his shoulder and rambled an apology.

your cheeks were flushed, a little embarrassed and maybe a little blushing. riki hoped it was only the first.

hold up.

why would he care if you were blushing. blushing for that goody-two shoes yang jungwon—who all the teachers and students adored. whatever. you should’ve fallen on your face, riki would’ve liked that better…yeah he totally would’ve.

“what the hell man!” heeseung asked, gripping onto his shoulder to question his outburst.

snapping out of his trance, riki turned to his friend and finally realized that everyone was staring at him. he wasn’t used to such attention.

“o-oh..uhh it’s nothing—i thought—nothing nevermind.” riki stammered, embarrassed. he quickly took his seat again and kept his head down to avoid any awkward glances. the class slowly returned to their conversations, ignoring the boy’s questionable actions.

“what do you mean nothing...” sunghoon spoke up, furrowing his eyebrows.

before his friends could continue hounding him for an answer, the front door slid open with a loud slam! everyone turned their heads to the teacher walking into the class. upon spotting the four misplaced boys, his demeanor immediately turned sour.

“yah! you four—get to class!” the teacher shouted from the door, pointing to the obviously out-of-place seniors in a junior class.

startled but unmoved, the boys casually got to their feet and walked to the back door.

“im so sorry teach, we just love our riki so much!” jake fake apologized and bowed a whole ninety-degrees.

the other three began putting their hands together and bowing too, sarcastically muttering apologies to the teacher and the other students.

“GET OUT!”

“have fun learning algebra!” heeseung shouted with only his head peeking in from the back door. riki only laughed at his annoyingly loud friends as they ran out into the hallway.

as the teacher began class, he looked back out the window to see you long gone. instantly, he internally slapped his own face.

‘stop looking at the window, riki.’

‘why are you looking for her, riki.’

‘she likes jungwon, riki.’

‘STOP THINKING ABOUT HER, RIKI!’

riki kept his eyes shut and tried to calm his own crazy thoughts. he put his head down on his desk, ignoring whatever the teacher started blabbering about.

with the inviting warmth of the sunlight radiating through the window, he was slowly drifting to sleep when suddenly he heard the door open.

click. clack. click.

[jaeeyaaasworld]

Car Shopping - LN4

Featuring: Lando Norris x reader

Warning(s): disrespectful car guy, Lando being basically a trophy boyfriend, Lando being a cutie (GOD THIS IS SO AWFUL. I'm sorry but I just got back to writing, pls have mercy on me)

Summary: Y/n decided to finally buy her dream car since she was a child, Lando is accompanying her but the car guy is misunderstanding.

Y/n, a pretty famous model, shouted her boyfriend name in the Monaco attic, entering the living room and sitting on the couch next to Lando, her boyfriend.

"I'm gonna buy it"

she started, earning a confused look on the Formula 1 driver.

"you're gonna buy... what?"

he asked, trying to understand what she was talking about, but suddenly his eyes widenened with realization.

"is it the YSL heels? no, princess, I was gonna get them for you"

he whined, making Y/n aw at his antics.

"you are gonna get them for me? that's really sweet, but it's not them"

she said with a big smile, making Lando furrow his eyebrows.

"is it the Minaudière make up by Dior, then?"

he tried, but getting a shook of head from Y/n.

"come on, Lando. think harder"

Y/n insisted, looking at him with big doe eyes, making him understand in an instant.

"the Porsche. you're getting the Porsche GT3 RS"

Lando said, sitting up with the biggest grin that you've ever seen. with just a nod of your head, Lando was already hugging you tightly, yelling at the top of his lungs as he pulled you on top of him on the couch.

"are you for real?"

he asked, pulling back a little to look you in the eyes.

"I checked if the dealer in Monaco had it in their site, and it says that they could get it shipped here"

you squealed as Lando yelled again and pulled you back in the hug.

"gosh, I'm so happy. are we going now? can I come with you?"

he asked, making you nod your head and get up to get ready to leave.

Time skip: at the dealer

Lando was parking his McLaren in the parking lot when you walked into the big shop and started searching for someone to help you.

the faint voice of someone almost arguing caught your attention.

"it's a girl, shut up John, you got the last one. look at that bag, her husband it's surely filthy rich- hi"

a guy came in front of you, as you recognized his voice as the guy that was arguing with the other worker earlier, noticing how his eyes were setting on the Birkin Lando had gifted you for Christmas.

"my name is Mike, how can I help a pretty girl like you?"

he asked, a sick smile on his lips that almost made you gag. you put a smile on anyway, since you were a really polite person.

"uhm... yes, hi. I read on your site that you can get the blue Porsche GT3 RS shipped here, right?"

you asked politely, making Mike's eyes widen and nod his head.

"sure, come I'll help you"

he said, starting to walk towards his computer, the sound of your heels clicking on the ground echoing on the walls.

"no husband?"

Mike asked, sitting at his desk and searching around for what he needed.

"my boyfriend is parking his car outside"

you corrected him, making him nod.

"you know what you're getting into?"

Mike asked again, making you smirk as you wanted to put a stop to his teasing and attempts to fool you.

"of course I know"

you said, hearing a faint 'damn it' come from the man behind the desk.

"alright, the car is gonna cost a bit much, but I'm sure you already know that since you know what you're getting into. I mean, it's a Porsche, there's not much I can do about it. so... the price is gonna be 320.000 euro-"

"WHAT?!"

Mike couldn't even finish his sentence that Lando's shout could be heard from the other side of the open door.

"that's a robbery-"

he started, but your raised hand stopped him as you got up from the seat in front of Mike's desk. you gave Lando your Birkin as you leaned on Mike's desk.

"Mike, that price is 60.000 euros over the actual price. I accept the fact that you didn't recognize me, but you surely recognize my boyfriend, right?"

the car dealer gulped as he nodded his head.

"now... don't you feel ashamed trying to scam a girl that's been around cars since she was a child and is now in a relationship with a Formula 1 driver? don't you think that I might really know what I'm getting myself into, huh?"

you asked the man, still leaning on the desk.

"I'm far too good for letting you still sit on that chair behind that desk"

you finished, a scoff left your lips as you took your Birkin back and walked out of the concessionary with Lando's hand on your lower back, opening the door for you.

"princess"

he called before you could reach the McLaren, making you hum and turn towards him. Lando placed both his hands on your arms in comfort.

"I know you're angry. why don't we go to that fine restaurant that you like and take a walk around the track, just the way you like?"

he asked softly, getting a sad nod in return as he pulled you close, his lips on your forehead.

"my princess"

he sighed, kissing your lips and smiling down at you.

"I'm gonna make sure we have a consultation with another dealer next time, promise"

[annievrse]

happy new year!

roronoa zoro x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: watching explosions of colour in the sky on the night the year changes from old to new… but something else is changing too. c/w: so extremely self-ship coded, she/her, no use of y/n, ‘pretty girl’ aka zoro’s fave pet name for fem!reader, one sex joke, alcohol a/n: happy new year!! i started writing this in september but never posted it, so i changed the occasion and speedran to finish it so it would be ready for nye. i hope you guys enjoy it!! see y’all next year ;)

“Here, let me—“

“Wha—?” Zoro ducks away when he sees your hands nearing his collarbones, his palms covering the sides of his neck. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not gonna tickle you, you freak,” tilting your head in annoyance, you sigh, hand falling to your sides. “Your collar’s messed up.”

“Oh,” Zoro stands up straight and steps toward you, shoving his chest in your face. You go to step away but are pulled closer to him when Zoro grips your hips and grunts in irritation. A giggle bubbles in the back of your throat. “You don’t need to go that far away to fix it.”

Rolling your eyes, you raise your arms again and pull at the fabric to right it. Zoro’s breaths are heavy and warm against your forehead, and you refrain from peering up at him, knowing what will happen if you do. Your fingers knock his earrings gently, and the sound, combined with the silence, makes a shiver go down Zoro's spine.

The girl's quarters of the ship are quiet, unlike the boy's quarters, which are overly rambunctious at all times of the day. The perfect hideaway for the pair of you while the rest of your crew gets ready for the explosion of colours in the sky. A fleeting moment of peace and privacy amid the usual chaos of the strawhats.

You stand like this for a while. His collar has long been fixed, yet your hands remain firm on his collarbones, smoothing the fabric. You’ve forced him into his only suit, one that strains against his broad biceps and deliciously thick thighs.

Zoro exhales deeply and drops a kiss on your hair, his fingers dancing on your spine, the backless dress doing wonders for your figure.

"We should hurry up," He mumbles against your scalp, making no moves to do so. "Who knows what those idiots are up to."

You laugh breathlessly and nod, shrugging one shoulder hopelessly. "Surely, they'll be fine without us for once."

Zoro hums in disagreement but dips his head down, nudging your nose with his. "Doubt it."

You roll your eyes and press your mouth against his. Zoro inhales sharply and squeezes your sides, lifting you up against him.

"Anything you want tonight, I—"

"—they're down here having sex!"

You jump away from your boyfriend, accidentally biting his bottom lip when the wooden door slams against the wall. Your eyebrows furrow at the familiar yell of your captain, your mind still hazy.

"Literally what, moron?" You don't even see Zoro's mood shift; his face has already morphed into his usual scowl before you can comprehend what's happening.

"Fuck," Zoro mumbles as an afterthought, his thumb coming up to wipe the dot of blood collecting on his lip. He throws you a heated glance, and you try to ignore the connotations behind his look in front of your captain.

Luffy stands in the doorway proudly, sporting a suit jacket and his usual denim shorts, his scar on full display. "No wonder they're not helping!"

You feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment as your mind finally catches up to what he initially claimed. "Luffy—"

"Luffy, get out! No boys allowed in the girl's quarters!" Nami's voice echoes down the hall, and the younger boy's mouth opens to respond. But before he can, Nami stands beside him and eyes you and Zoro wearily.

Her shimmering green mini dress reflects the warm glow of the lamp in the corner, and she looks as dazzling as she always does.

"Get upstairs! You need to move the dining table," Nami barks at Zoro, who rolls his eyes and leaves you standing there, shoulder-checking Luffy as he passes.

“Can’t that damn cook do it?” He mumbles as he walks through the doorway, sending you a transient glance of annoyance—not at you, never at you. You smile warmly, ignoring the glare Nami gives you.

"Go!" Nami snaps at Luffy, who salutes and stretches his arm down the hall. And from the strangled yelp that follows, you know he's grabbed Zoro by the throat. Nami kicks Luffy's shin, and he cackles before shortening his arm and flying to meet Zoro wherever he stands.

"And as for you," Nami points at you. "Robin and I are sitting in the Crow’s Nest. C’mon.”

—

With a glass of something sparkling in your hand, you lean back and watch the stars twinkle. The island a few hundred metres away is alive with rambunctious laughter and squeals of joy, and the music that echos across the water makes you eager to dance.

“If you want to leave,” Robin side-eyes you, ever the observer. “You can.”

You shake your head, a small laugh falling from your lips. “It’s fine. I’m sure he’s having fun with the boys.”

“You know he’s not,” Nami quips, sipping from her glass. “He’s probably in a corner, sulking with his sake.”

The image in your head of Zoro doing so is not an unusual one, but it makes you giggle nonetheless. “I don’t want to ditch you guys; the show is about to start.”

Nami flicks her wrist. “We don’t want you here.”

Robin rolls her lips between her teeth, a telltale sign that she’s a little intoxicated. “Yeah, go to the back of the ship; I’ve heard there’s something waiting for you.”

“Guys,” You sigh, butterflies swarming your stomach.

“Go!” Nami almost yells, her cheeks pink. “He made us do all this for you anyway.”

Robin slaps the navigator’s shoulder and laughs, and you know she’s trying to keep her composure. She says your name softly and nods. “He’s waiting.”

You twist your lips and place your drink on the wooden floor. “Thank you.”

They brush you off and urge you to leave, both grinning wide with sparkles in their eyes.

The trip down the ladder is a shaky one, thanks to the sparkling wine the girls had been feeding you. Your hands may be steady, but your heart thunders loudly in your ears.

When your feet hit the deck, you see Luffy and the crew laughing on the grass, their backs to you and attention on nothing but the drinks in their hands and the anticipation of the incoming celebration.

You follow Robin’s instructions and make your way to the back of the ship, your footfalls quiet. Peering around the corner, you see familiar green hair.

Zoro paces back and forth, whispering things far too quiet for you to hear from here. You take the opportunity to sneak up behind him.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

You sigh with exasperation, though there’s no irritation in your tone. “Seriously?”

Zoro smiles; a real smile that reaches his eyes despite one of them being permanently closed. You grin back, forever grateful that he chooses to present himself in such a way to you—he’s utterly and irrevocably beautiful.

He shrugs, reaching for your waist before pulling you into him. “I always know where you are.”

You shove your face into his neck, cheeks warming at his admission. “You’re weird.”

Zoro scoffs, the action vibrating through his chest. “Yeah, okay. You’re the one who says she loves me so… who’s the weird one now?”

You peer up at him, eyes wide with adoration. “Still you.”

All he does is hum and drop his lips to your forehead. “Guess I am considering I love you more.”

“Hey!” You giggle, pulling your face back. Zoro’s dark iris is obscured by his blown out pupil, and the tender look in his eye makes you shiver. You sigh after calming down. “Why’d you wanna meet out here?”

He tilts his head. “Thought it’d be a good spot to watch those things in the sky… you know, since you’ve been talking about them so much.”

There’s something he’s not telling you, but his intention is enough to make your heart flutter tenfold.

“And, I, uh—”

“It’s starting!”

You ignore the yells from your captain and focus on Zoro, who is trying to formulate what he wants to say. He averts his eye when you give him a look that tells him to keep going.

Bang!

You jump in surprise at the explosion behind you, but the urge to turn and watch doesn’t cross your mind, not when Zoro is before you.

He looks up, and you can see the reflection of the pink sparkles lighting up the sky in his eye.

You nudge him. “What do you wanna say?”

He lets out a breathy, nervous laugh, and looks at your hairline. His fingers move quickly to brush away the stray hairs that got swept out of place by the breeze.

“It’s nothing, just that I—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

This time, Zoro startles. He blinks into the night once more, and blues and greens reflect off the glassiness of his eye.

“Zo.”

His attention returns to you, and you squeeze his clammy hand.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Zoro’s inhale is sharp as he nods, cheeks blooming with a pink hue.

“I love you,” He says, swallowing thickly. The cheers and laughter of your crew fade into nothing, and the explosions of colour in the night don’t dare deter you from the light expression on Zoro’s face.

“You know I’m bad at this shit,” He grumbles, brushing a pretend eyelash from your cheekbone. “Words.”

You laugh softly. “I won’t disagree, but you know you can tell me anything.”

“I know.”

You wait patiently for him to continue, and the joy around you is nothing compared to what you feel inside.

“I, uh,” He finally says, digging his hand in his pocket. Your heart starts racing before you can even fathom what’s happening. “I found this on an island a few years back.”

From his slacks, Zoro pulls out a gold ring. Its intricate diamonds and elegant design cause your breath to catch in your throat, and you feel your bottom lip start to quiver. He grips the metal a little too tight between his fingertips and it catches the orange hue of the fizzing lights.

“It’s not an engagement ring, or whatever Nami keeps telling me to get you, but a promise ring.”

Your chest aches and tears blur your vision as your shaky fingers hover in the small space between you. Zoro’s own trembling hands slide the ring onto your ring finger, and it’s a perfect fit.

“A promise that no matter what happens to us, to our crew, I will always be with you. You’ve got me for as long as you want me. There’s nobody else I wanna do this shit with.”

There’s an unspoken vow—every broken part, every scar, every piece of him that’s been lost along the way of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman, it’s yours.

“Zoro…”

His hands cover your cheeks and he smiles. You blink away your tears, choking out a laugh of pure happiness. Zoro’s palms smooth down your hair and return to your cheeks before he leans in close.

“Don’t get mushy on me,” He whispers, breath hot on your lips. You giggle as his thumbs wipe away the wetness under your eyes. “You’re the one thing in this world I’m not willing to lose, alright? I’ll fight for you, protect you, be there when you need me—whatever.”

His words are quiet, almost lost in the moment, but the weight of them hangs between you—real, undeniable, and from the deepest depths of his soul.

“You mean to world to me.”

You sniffle and lean forward to capture his lips with yours. His wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you into him. He kisses you like it’s the last time, but that reality is far from where you stand now.

“I love you,” You whisper against his mouth. It doesn’t feel like much after he’s poured his soul out to you, but Zoro doesn’t need it. He already knows, from the way your eyes shine and your heart pounds relentlessly against his chest, that you feel the same. He always knows.

“Did he do it?”

Zoro groans into your mouth but refuses to pull away. The crew gathers on the deck behind you, all snickering but with hearts full of warmth for their crew mates.

When you lean back, Zoro chases, and the world fades back in. The whole crew stands there, shaking with anticipation before Luffy breaks first, flinging himself at you. He wraps his arms around you and Zoro multiple times, squeezing you together as the rest of the crew, all eight of them, rush to embrace you too.

The salty air and the dying bursts of coloured light make the night feel like a transition; one that marks the end of another year, and the start of a new, exciting embodiment of raw commitment.

And in the midst of the group hug, Zoro finds your lips again. All that matters is the quiet weight of the promise he’s just made, and the ring on your finger that shines, not in the warm light of the hanging lanterns, but with the love and respect it’s been holding for years, waiting for this moment.