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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 2 months ago

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The Babysitter (42)- Flour Fights

MILF Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

Chapter 42- W/c 5.8k

Flour Fights

Wiping the counter top down, you ensured that marble top was clean of the small amount of coffee a customer had spilt before turning around to continue your conversation with Peter and Gamora, a playful expression on both yours and Gamora’s face as you teased the brunette, his head shaking at your antics.

“I should report you both to the manager for bullying,” he grumbles in a joking manner as he expertly pours the milk into the drink to create a beautiful piece of art in the liquid, the way he effortlessly completes the task making you a little jealous as you had been trying to learn how to do latte art for a while and had failed miserably. “Oh wait, I am the manager,” his tone is laced with a hint of theatrics as he turned to his girlfriend before looking at you, raising his brow in faux warning. “Stop bullying your co-worker or I’ll put both of your shifts on rush hour,” Peter threatens with little conviction, knowing he wouldn’t be able to as all the shifts had been arranged specifically to fit around the last of the summer holidays, the man complaining less than an hour ago about how long it took and how he never wanted to plan shifts again. His words simply earnt a roll of Gamora’s eyes and a small smile from you at her reaction, the two of you trying your hardest not to tease him again when the bell at the front door rang, signalling a new customer.

At the sight of a familiar set of auburn locks and two very energetic boys, the corner of your lips lifted at the sight of them as Wanda’s eyes flickered around your place of work for a table, quickly spotting a nice booth to sit in before ushering the twins into it. A motherly look appeared on her face, the familiar sight endearing for you to see as her hands fixed Tommy’s hair as he sat down before caressing Billy’s shoulder in an affectionate way, the older woman murmuring something to them before making her way over, a mischievous smile on her face as her alluring green caught yours, heat instantly rising to your cheeks.

“I’ll get this one,” you murmur to Gamora as she approached the countertop to take Wanda’s order, her brow raising at you suspiciously at the pink tinting your face and that enamoured look in your eyes before letting you take the customer, moving further back to join Peter at the coffee machines, the two of them keeping their eyes on you as Drax, Rocket and Mantis returned from their break, preparing to serve the other customers entering the café.

“Hi, what can I get you?” You asked, putting on your ‘work’ voice for the older woman whilst trying your hardest to not smile at her like an idiot in love, your heart fluttering at the way her hands glide across the freshly cleaned countertop, fingers tapping indecisively as she looked at the boards with the menu on it.

“Can I get two small hot chocolates with whipped cream and extra marshmallows on them,” her tone shows how she is unable to hide her happiness as she ordered for the twins, the older woman smiling at you lovingly as she hadn’t seen you properly today due to how early your shift had started, part of her like a teenager in love as she felt almost giddy in your presence. It shocked her at how you could still cause so many feelings to bubble inside her, the way a simple look could ignite a warmth to wrap around her heart effortlessly and she adored every single minute of it, having always wanted to love someone like she loved you and be loved the way you passionately loved her.

Your smile grew even wider at her order for the twins, the emphasis on extra marshmallows not being missed by you as you knew how much they loved them on their drinks, your finger tapping on the screen to write down her order as you glance up at her, noticing the way her teeth subtly bite down on her lower lip to not grin at you. You blushed a little under her gaze as she met your eyes, her enticing green hypnotising you as you let the look linger, the sound of a coffee machine beeping snapping you back to reality as you waited for her to continue with the order.

“Can I also have…” she started, trailing off as she skim reads the rest of the menu, part of you already knowing what she was about to order as your finger hovered over the screen, ready to tap, “A flat white espresso.” You smiled to yourself as you entered in the item, oblivious to how Peter lingered nearby to see how you were doing with the customer, Gamora hiding near the coffee machine and eavesdropping too, your co-workers unaware that this was Wanda, having never actually met her before.

“Is there anything else?” You ask once you had logged everything you needed to, watching the way Wanda’s fingers tapped against the countertop, her smile tugging up in a mischievous manner as her gaze flickered up to meet yours, a hint of mirth in them at her next words.

“Is your number an option?” She teased with a charming smile, your eyes widening at her words before you went along with her joke, a small, shy laugh escaping you as you felt heat rise to your cheeks, her captivating smile and stare making you flustered.

“That depends, are you single or am I going to get in trouble?” Your tone signals your amusement as you murmur the words, letting your gaze switch between the pools of green and her plump lips, admiring her angelic features as you wait for her to respond.

“You won’t get into trouble, I won’t let you,” she rasps out, purposely letting her voice drop an octave and her accent seep into it, knowing you couldn’t resist the way her words gracefully fell from her lips when she did so, her smile widening at the way your pupils dilated noticeably, your mouth parting a little bit as she leaves you speechless for a moment until you can compose yourself.

“I’ll uh, bring your order over to you when it’s ready,” you stammer out in response, avoiding her gaze as you could tell she was humoured by how easily she could fluster you, an infectious laugh briefly escaping her as she chuckles at your adorable form, quickly paying for the drinks before putting you out of your misery and walking away.

You can’t help but watch as she walks away, the older woman seeming to know you were staring and looking over her shoulder at you, winking playfully before moving to sit next to Billy so she could continue to watch you work, smiling at the way your co workers quickly move over to you after your interaction.

“What are you doing?” Peter’s tone is slightly raised as confusion laces his voice whilst you turn around to face him, his wide eyes and tone puzzling you as your brows furrow, your hand stilling the way you were writing your number on the cup, his fingers slipping the item out of your hand. “You can’t just flirt with customers like that, what about Wanda?” It clicks in your mind when he mentions the other woman, a laugh escaping you as your gaze flickers between Gamora and Peter’s concerned gaze, neither of them wanting you to ruin what you had with your girlfriend as they had heard such amazing things.

“That is Wanda,” you say after a moment, unable to stop chuckling to yourself at their reactions, part of you grateful for their intervention as it just showed how much they cared about you. You watch entertained at the way their faces drop from worry to confusion, to disbelief and shock, Gamora’s gaze moving to where the twins and Wanda’s were sitting whilst Peter just looks at you, bewildered.

“How?” Is all that leaves his lips before Gamora’s hand smacks the back of his head, shooting him a warning look as he rubs the spot his girlfriend just hit, his cheeks turning a little red in embarrassment. It wasn’t that he didn’t think you weren’t beautiful or an amazing person because you were, everyone around you knew that you were, it was more the fact that Wanda looked like a goddess among people, something about her just making her all the more radiant. “I mean, how… come we have never met Wanda?” He sheepishly mutters out, grimacing himself at how poor his recovery of the situation was, your brow raised at him as Mantis overhears the conversation, excitement swirling in her eyes at the mention of the older woman, your friend eager to meet her.

“Wanda’s here? Where is she?” Her voice conveys her giddiness as you smile at her reaction, the two of you growing closer over the last couple weeks as your shifts were on at the same time, the black haired woman taking an interest in your love life as she could tell how smitten you were. Before you could respond, Rocket spoke up, the casual man leaning against the countertop on his phone, clearly pretending as though he was busy with work stuff, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Who’s Wanda? Does she need her order taken over?” His voice lacked any real conviction as to find out who she was, simply acting as though he was contributing to team as he messaged Lyla on his phone, your head shaking as you made the two small hot chocolates, making sure to swirl the whipped cream perfectly and add as many marshmallows as you were allowed to.

“Why are we talking about Wanda again?” Drax asks from your side, making you jump a little as you hadn’t realised he was standing there, his body so still it was as though he was invisible.

“She’s here,” Mantis emphatically answered him, the man seeming to be just as disinterested as Rocket as he was only interested in relationships and love when it meant he could tease someone, his eyes following to where Mantis was looking before flickering his gaze back to you, a laugh escaping him.

“Yeah right,” he chuckled out, a look of shock forming on your face at his dismissal that it was Wanda, your features pulling into a look of offence as he smiled in disbelief at you, a glint of determination appearing in your eyes as you wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face.

“I’ll prove it,” you muttered out to the man, his smile widening as he refused to believe you, his arms crossing over his chest nonchalantly as he leaned against the countertop, watching you in amusement as you carried over the order to the booth they were sitting at, looking at Wanda with a shy but mischievous look before turning your head to make sure your co workers were watching, in particular Drax.

“Two hot chocolates and a flat white,” you say with a polite voice, the slight change to your tone amusing the twins as they mimic your voice to each other, making you playfully stick your tongue out at them for their teasing you as Wanda shakes her head at your antics, biting down on her lower lip as she admires you in your work uniform as you hand the twins their drinks, marshmallows overspilling from the cups. Your gaze flickers over to her appreciative stare when the twins become distracted by the sugary treat, the older woman loving the way your tied apron exaggerates your curves as she eventually lifts her gaze to your face, an enamoured look evident in her eyes as she can’t stop thinking about how adorable you look right now, the slightly shy smile on your face as her green has your heart pounding in your chest, warmth wrapping cosily around it.

Smiling a little to yourself, your tear your eyes away from hers to break the lingering gaze to focus on her drink sitting on the tray in your hands, moving to pass her the drink when her fingers brush yours on purpose, the older woman innocently smirking up at you as steals the drink from you, revelling in the way you seem to blush a little in embarrassment at the effect she has on you.

“Thank you,” she murmurs out whilst taking a sip of the drink, making sure to keep eye contact with you to further torment you, her lips tugging up into a smile around the mug as you linger nearby, trying to figure out how to prove to Drax you were with her without making it obvious to Wanda that you wanted a kiss.

“Is there any chance my service deserves a tip?” You ask with a hint of cheek seeping into your words as you offer her a charming smile, her brow raising at your words as you still play along with the joke from earlier, excitement appearing on her features.

“What did you have in mind?” She murmurs out, letting her gaze drift over to the counter where your friends were not so discreetly watching the interaction, the older woman trying her hardest to not roll her eyes as she could tell you had made some sort of bet at the way they were so interested in what was happening, that look in your eyes only Wanda could notice also giving it away as she could easily read your body language.

“Something that might get me in...trouble,” you whisper out, Wanda letting out a small chuckle before shaking her head lightly at your actions, her hand moving to your collarbone, sliding against the fabric of your shirt teasingly before grabbing the collar of your button up blouse, pulling you down to meet her lips.

The kiss was tender and loving to keep it appropriate for the setting, the two of you instantly smiling into it when you hear a contrast of reactions, the twins as usual pretending to be grossed out by the action whilst a small, elated noise could be heard from where Mantis was, her body buzzing with joy as she just loved seeing people happy, her smile practically reaching her ears at the way you shyly pulled back from the kiss.

You couldn’t stop the way love and adoration swarmed through you when Wanda softly waved towards your co-workers before sitting back in her seat, relaxing with her drink in her hand as you simply stood there, admiring the woman you loved.

“You might want to stop staring Detka,” she teases after a moment, “You’ve still got twenty minutes of your shift left,” she gently reminds, prompting you to pick up the forgotten tray from the table and return back to work after telling her you would meet her back here when you had finished your shift.

The prominent blush on your cheeks was engraved there as Peter and Gamora offer you suggestive looks as you returned to the counter, Drax’s arms dropping as he simply stood there with his mouth parted, somehow lost for words, not a single teasing remark lingering on his tongue which seemed to be a first.

“You should have put money on it,” Rocket teased as he patted Drax’s shoulder, joking with the man who still remained frozen and confused as to what had happened, your head shaking at the other man before letting your gaze inevitably drift back over to the table where she was, catching her curious stare. You watched intently as she placed her drink down and lifted her hand, the smile growing on your face fading when she motioned for you to turn around and stop staring at her, your eyes rolling theatrically at her before you did as she said, returning to cleaning the machines as the last twenty minutes of your shift dragged on.

***

Untying your hair, a deep sigh left your lips at the relief of returning home, the promise of having another family night exciting you as it was a time to unwind and simply enjoy being with the twins and Wanda, the bag of ingredients in Wanda’s hands intriguing you as she hadn’t told you what her and the twins had planned for tonight.

You made a beeline for the kitchen as that was where she had wandered to, walking past the framed photo of her on the ride at Asgard with a smug smile before your eyes searched for her auburn hair as you leaned against the doorframe, taking a moment to observe her. Her fingers rummaged through the plastic bag for various items as she stayed oblivious to your presence, her back to you as you continued to watch her, unable to stop the love coursing through your veins at the domestic sight of her expertly and swiftly moving around the kitchen, her green eventually catching your figure at the door.

The corner of your lips instinctively lifted at the simple look before you pushed yourself off the frame to slowly walk over to her, your body tired after your long shift at the café, wanting to feel the comfort of her body against yours as you have been deprived of her touch for far too long in your opinion. You practically melted into her body as your arms snaked around her middle, your head resting against her shoulder as you placed a kiss to the fabric of her jumper, expressing your love to her silently.

The two of you adored the fact you could easily show your care and affection for each other without having to explicitly say ‘I love you’, your actions, looks, and kindness enough for one another. You purposely let your hands squeeze her body gently, encouraging her to lean back further into your embrace, knowing she cherished being hugged from behind and listened out for the satisfied sigh that would spill from her lips when you would do so.

You smiled against her sweater when you heard the familiar sound, the older woman stilling in your arms as she relaxed, a soft, tender expression gracing her features as you both savoured the moment before the twins would eventually come running downstairs, ready to start the fun family night.

“Can I have another kiss or is that going to get me in trouble with your girlfriend?” you tease, breaking the brief silence, your words slightly muffled by her shoulder as you mumbled against her, the corner of her lips tugging up at your playfulness whilst her head shook lightly before she turned around in your arms, mirth clear in her eyes.

“I don’t know, that might get you into trouble,” she rasps out whilst you move one of your hands to tuck the stray strand of her hair behind her ear, a tenderness wrapping around you both comfortably as you joke with each other.

“That’s a shame, it was such a good kiss,” you murmur out, tilting your head so that your lips ghosted hers, the feeling of her lips briefly brushing yours intoxicating, the thought of pressing them together consuming your mind and sending a heat throughout your body.

“Yeah?” she hums out, sliding her hands further around your waist, the pads of her fingers toying with the hem of your shirt and grazing your warm skin. “Maybe one more wouldn’t hurt after all,” she husks out with a smirk, lowering her head at a tantalising pace as you await the delicate feeling of her plump lips slotting over yours, your body craving the feeling again as you wait what feels like an eternity before her lips finally claim yours.

Much to your dismay though, the sound of footsteps interrupts the kiss, breaking off the affectionate moment far sooner than you wanted, a small groan leaving you as you sink into her embrace, your face hiding at the crook of her neck, basking in the warmth and safety it provided for a moment.

“You’re such a tease,” you mumble against her skin, earning a gentle chuckle as her fingers run up and down your back, the twins storming into the room after having cleaned their rooms, knowing they had to finish that chore off before the fun could begin.

“You’re the one who started it,” she whispers tauntingly before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, sliding her body away from yours to check their rooms were done properly before starting the activities planned for tonight, your dumbfounded figure left to watch her walk away, still thinking of the feeling of her lips.

***

A baking competition.

That’s what family night was for this evening, a look of shock, confusion and excitement appearing on your features as it was everyone versus everyone on who could make the best cookies, the thought of the twins trying to make their own worrying you a little bit as their version of baking cookies meant eating as many chocolate chips as possible before you would notice, too busy doing the actual work involved.

“Are we sure we don’t want to have teams?” you ask once more as you sit on the chair at the kitchen island, your head leaning against your palm as you stare at Wanda who was sorting out all the ingredients into an efficient system, her face pulling a look that suggested she wanted to agree with you, Tommy speaking up instead.

“No teams!” he exclaims, clearly excited about doing it all himself as Billy nodded along with him, the twins adamant that they could make them themselves, assuming it was much easier than it was. “Unless you want to team up with Mom because you’re scared you’re going to lose,” he teases, making your jaw drop, Wanda failing the stifle her laugh in time as your bewildered expression meets her humoured one, her smile soft as she bites down on her lip to stop herself giggling at her son’s words.

“I make good cookies,” you mutter in response, thinking about all the times you and the twins had made various types of cookies and the way they’d absolutely devour them, your mind then soon replaying the way they’d run across the house to get their mothers, the older woman’s skills in the kitchen superior to yours.

“Not as good as mine though,” Wanda whispers as she moves around to stand behind you, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple to help comfort you at the fact your abilities had been undermined, her head leaning against yours as your hand reached out for hers, letting your thumb brush over the back of her hand as the twins decided on the rules and how the winner would be decided before you could start.

Eventually, the four of you were ready to start measuring out everything needed to make the signature Maximoff family recipe of chocolate chip cookies, Billy fighting with the bag of flour you and him were going to share whilst Wanda effortlessly opened hers and Tommy’s, a look of sympathy growing on your face as he struggled. He wanted to remain independent during the entire baking process so you offered him a reassuring smile as you could understand how frustrating it was to open packets like that, something deep inside you hating bags of flour after the many times they had split open on you. The packaging was just always so impractical, white powder inevitably getting everywhere as soon as you tore it open, your gaze watching as he put a little more force into trying to tear it open, a grimace forming on your face as you could predict what was about to happen.

“Let me try-” your words were cut off by the bag tearing open vigorously, flour puffing out of the bag and all over the countertop as well as yours and Billy’s hands, a cloud of it filling the air around you two as Wanda sighed, her smile still present on her face though.

After a sheepish look in the older woman’s direction, you turned your gaze back to the pile of flour now on the marble top, your hand coming up to your forehead as you try to figure out the best way to deal with the situation, not realising the amount of flour coating your hand.

A humoured expression grew on everyone else's face as you managed to have a streak of flour across your head, the twins trying their hardest to not laugh and give it away, wanting you to continue looking silly, whilst Wanda seemed to pause, a nostalgic look in her eyes.

Her mind recalled the memory of when she came home from work to see you baking with the twins whilst you were babysitting them, the way warmth spread throughout her at the adorable sight of you with a similar streak of flour on your face. She remembered fondly the way you seemed to grow flustered as she gently wiped the mark away, her heart fluttering in her chest as she realised how far the two of you have come, how you have managed to change her life for the better.

“What?” you chuckle out as you notice her staring at you with love overflowing from her enchanting green, Billy helping get the remainder of the flour into a bowl to weigh it out.

“I love you,” she whispers, your brows furrowing a little bit at the emotion underlying the words, the concern quickly dissipating as she comes closer to you, her fingers gently holding your chin like she did that day, tilting your head up as she grabbed a cloth to wipe the flour away, a hint of deja vu flowing through you both. “But sometimes I think you’re just as messy as the twins,” she mutters playfully, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes at her words as she loses herself in admiring you, unaware of how your hand was moving near the table.

“I’m not messy” you whisper innocently whilst moving your hand up to cup her cheek, her face morphing into shock at the feeling of flour being smeared against her skin, an infectious laugh escaping you and the twins as they watch the scenes unfold, revenge swirling in the older woman’s eyes.

Before you know it, the kitchen turns into a mini warzone, flour flying everywhere as you all try to cover each other in it, the food fight amusing to everyone as laughter bounced off all the walls, a small scream leaving Tommy as you wrap your arm around his body, sprinkling flour all over him and wiping a streak on his cheek to mimic the face paintings warriors have. To torment the boy even more, you tickled his side, watching as he tries to squirm his way out of your grip, his giggles echoing around the room as Billy dodges his mother’s flour attacks, the woman giving up chasing after one of her sons as he was too quick, deciding to save her other one instead.

A squeal practically leaves you when Wanda steals you away, pulling you into her body so that her front is flush against your back, your body trying to fight her strong grip but failing, laughter constantly spilling from your lips as you feel the remainder of the flour being wiped across your face. Her fingers friskily remained on your face, tormenting you further as you could hear her chuckling behind you, your hand trying to stop her from drawing random shapes of flour on your forehead as you gripped her forearm, amused at the way her sleeve had a massive streak of white across it.

The core memory engraved itself into all of your minds, the sheer joy and happiness radiating through you all as Wanda eventually let her head rest at the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your sweet perfume as your giggles eventually died down, your ragged breaths filling the room. The four of you panted after the intense battle, Wanda’s arm unwrapping from around your middle, freeing you of her grasp so you could turn around to send her a mini glare, the expression never coming onto your face as you were too busy grinning at her, an avalanche of affection and warmth enveloping you at the sight of her. Flour sat on the edge of her nose almost comically, a couple light dusts also tainting the pink visible on her cheeks whilst your eyes travelled up to look at her hair, chuckling in amusement at the massive white streak in her auburn locks.

A teasing comment about her age was on the tip of your tongue, the older woman seeming to sense where your thoughts were heading as she tilted her head almost warningly, daring you to make the joke as you smirked up at her, your composure crumbling a little at the hint of dominance swirling in her eyes. Deciding it would be better to not be a brat, you stayed silent instead, a triumphant look flashing on her features before she let her gaze flicker away from you to around the room, taking in the mess you had all managed to create, her eyes widening a little bit at how far the four of you had gone.

“I’m not even sure we’ll have enough flour to make cookies anymore,” she said sceptically as she checked the remains of a bags of flour, noticing how there was only just about two cups left in one of them and maybe just under one cup in the other bag , the twin’s faces almost turning as white as the flour at the idea of not having any cookies, the two of them running to check the bag their mother was looking at before checking the bowls that previously had measured out flour in them.

You watched curiously as they tried to pile together as much of the leftover flour as possible in hopes there'd be enough, your head shaking softly as you decided to wipe your face, cleaning yourself up whilst the boys remained running about with the ingredient in their hair, seeming to make the mess worse as they kept moving about. Wanda copied you and started trying to clean herself up, observing the twins as you were before speaking up, deciding she didn’t want to clean any more mess than she had to, part of her wishing she had the powers Billy had given her in his drawings so she could just magic all the mess away.

“How about this,” she starts off, gaining everyone’s attention. “You two can go and have a shower now, making sure to get rid of all the flour in your hair,” she said, making a point as she ruffled Tommy’s hair, showing how white his locks had turned, “And when you come down there might be some cookies nearly ready to eat." Bright smiles stretched across their lips as they nodded emphatically to agree with their mother’s plan, the two of them wiping as much of the mess in their hair off in the kitchen before being allowed to sprint up stairs to shower, your brow raising as her gaze then met yours, an innocent smile growing on her lips which could only mean one thing- she was about to torture you.

“And what am I supposed to do?” you ask in a hum, leaning against the countertop in front of her after she had just measured the flour out, a small amount still left in the bag behind your body that you were oblivious to. At the suggestive tone to your voice, her hands move to rest on the marble behind you, bracing her body above yours as she trapped you against the island, her head lowering a little bit, encouraging you to chase her teasing and alluring lips.

Just as you think she’s about to kiss you on the lips, your eyes fluttering shut, she moves slightly behind you, the action going unnoticed as her lips pressed against the corner of your mouth, driving you insane with the thought of her as warmth wraps around your heart and also travels down your body towards you core, the feeling of her smirking against your lips clouding your mind.

“You can help clean,” she murmurs in a seductive voice, a groan leaving you at her addictive tone and her words, the false hope annoying but equally amusing as she pulls back to see your eyes gradually opening, your darkened pupils showing how excited her actions had made you.

“Have I ever told you how cruel you are?” you grumble whilst stealing a quick kiss from her, the older woman letting you after her tease, her fingers wrapping around something behind you, her right arm moving slightly to your side as you focus on pouting at her, trying to get her to feel sorry for you and kiss you again and again until you couldn’t remember why you were pretending to be so annoyed. You thought it was working at the way her head lowered once more, your tongue subconsciously swiping across your lips to wet them, ready to lose yourself to the arousal steadily corrupting your thoughts.

“Just a few times,” she chuckles out, smirking at you in a mischievous way as you search her green, confused as to why her smile seemed to grow that little bit wider, your brows furrowing until your felt flour being poured over your head, your vision being covered by the powder spilling down your face. You simply stood still as the bag emptied above your head, unable to stop a shocked but also impressed smile tugging at your lips, your laughter light and contagious as Wanda couldn't help but laugh along with you as you fell for her plan. Shaking your head vigorously, your hands shot out to hold onto her waist to keep her close, keeping her in the firing line as the two of you acted like fools in love for the rest of the night.

The two of you were only just about able to make the cookies and clean the mountain of mess in time for the twins, care and adoration underlying all you actions as the rest of the night breezed by, the happiness of spending the night together as a family consuming you entirely.

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bitchimasnake-sss · 4 months ago

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bitchimasnake-sss presents: the one piece AUs [cause i want these men in every universe]

01. i serve! (my ex's head on a platter) ft. roronoa zoro!

brought to you by my current hyperfixation with challengers and zendaya. set-up: you've worked your ass off; early mornings, late nights, diets, workouts, everything. only to still to fall in the shadow of the current badminton world champion and your ex: roronoa zoro. bitter, agitated and absolutely exhausted, you had decided to never see him or even think of him again. but when an email from his coach dracule mihawk finds you, proposing you and zoro team up for the upcoming mixed doubles champion's cup, can you refuse? here's part 02 cw: smut, angst and dumb shenanigans! warnings: dumb people even dumber plot by me <3 zoro is a pain in the ass. nsfw includes: oral (f!receiving), penetration, doin' the do raw, more angst and more shenanigans. did i mention zoro is a pain? yeah that. mdni, shoo now. wc: 9.4k [IM SORRY I PUT TOO MUCH EFFORT INTO IT] m.list

13th of june, 10:02 a.m

"i didn't think you would come."

"me neither."

you felt dracule mihawk's gaze study you as if you were an opponent on the court, eyeing every little movement from the involuntary twitch of your fingers to the shallow breaths you heaved out. an unease crept against your throat and made a residence in there as you stood at the entrance to the kuraigana mansion, waiting for the retired world champion to say anything.

by anything, you didn't exactly expect pleasantries.

"how have you been?" mihawk's face eased, a shallow smile carving itself against his usual vampire-ish appearance.

"just fine." you replied back coolly, "and you, sir?"

"ah, you know, the usual. tournaments, training zoro." his words stilled at the mention of his moss-haired son-turned-student and he eyed you motionless face.

if mihawk wanted you to give away anything about how you felt about zoro, he was setting himself up for failure. although the mere mention of the man's name made your skin crawl and fill you with bugs, you simply smiled, "i heard he won the last men's singles in france, congratulations."

"the praise is reserved for the player, not me." mihawk stepped aside, slowly beckoning you in, "well, come on in, then."

you stepped after him into the castle-like mansion. kuraigana residence. the interiors were classic black and white with random, almost-haphazard pops of pink and purple sprinkled in, probably perona's influence on her otherwise classy father's tastes.

"looking for someone?" the man enquired, not turning around to look at you as he guided you through the main entrance.

"no." you replied quickly before putting on a faux smile, "just admiring the interiors. you have a wonderful home, sir."

"thank you. credit goes to that enigmatic child of mine, perona." the man replied modestly, now taking you through the main living room. the room was huge. littered with two black couches, a large flatscreen, coffee-table, a table tennis table that didn't match the aesthetic whatsoever, with art plastered on each otherwise barren, white wall.

"are you home alone?" mindlessly, you looked around again, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain dreadful man.

"zoro is out with a couple of friends—"

"—i meant perona."

"well," mihawk sighed, now leading you into the gigantic kitchen, "you know her. she hates to stay home for more than two days. she's in milan right now, working with a label." he pointed to the seat near the marble kitchen island, "have you been in touch with perona?"

"no," you admitted casually as you sat atop one of the many seats, as he stood opposite to you on the other side of he island, "i mean, we follow each other on instagram, that's about it. we were never really close."

"i see." mihawk grabbed two wine-glasses, perching them on the table before pulling out a unopened wine bottle from the top cupboard, "wine?"

"i'm off alcohol for the season." you answered politely, and left out the fact that it was ten in the morning.

the man hummed a faint yes before pouring himself a glass full of familiar, maroon-hued liquid. he sipped in a drink, eyeing yourself before keeping the glass back on the marble, "well that's enough chit-chat, let's cut to the chase."

you perked up, elbows propped on the island as he continued, "i presume you got my mail."

"of course."

"then you know that i want you and zoro to team up for the upcoming doubles championship."

"i do." your fingers clasped together, chin resting atop them. you took a steadying breath, "and my answer is no."

mihawk crocked up an eyebrow as you continued, "it was always gonna be a no, sir. you are- were like a father to me, and that's the only reason i dignified your request with an actual visit. it does not change the fact that i will not team up with roronoa zoro."

"calling him by his legal name?" mihawk mused, "i thought he was 'zo to you. he only let you call him that, anyways."

that was in the past, though, wasn't it? years before he was number one in the men's category and you were at two in the women's category. years before he started pretending as if he had never known you. years before you showed up at his house only to turn down the offer to play alongside him.

"we are nothing more than strangers, i'm afraid."

the man hummed as he gulped down the rest of his drink alongside your words. as he poured himself another glass, he continued, "i have to be honest. my request is a bit more selfish than what i'm letting on."

he paused as you straightened up, "i'm retiring from the position of his coach after the doubles champions' tournament." you stared at the older man as he continued, "this is his last tournament with me as his coach."

"does zo- roronoa know?"

"not yet. he needs to focus on the game." mihawk shrugged, tipping his glass towards you, "and you and him both know i am at the age where i should move away to italy and open my own wine cellar, rather than running around on the court."

a laugh escaped you at the absurdity of mihawk's request, "what are you suggesting, sir? roronoa doesn't need me to win, he is capable enough to with with anybody."

he's the bloody number one, isn't he?

"you won the champions cup last year with that kid law, did you not? i would rather take the chances with you than somebody else."

you stilled, thinking of a flattering response before spewing out, "i only won because roronoa did not play last year, sir. the competition was slim, and me and law made a good team."

mihawk set his glass down, "don't try to sell yourself short. you are not inferior to zoro, we both know that."

maybe. but you would not team up with that bastard. not ever.

you dragged your seat backwards, standing up, "i am afraid it is still a no, sir. and if you do not want me as an opponent, i would happily withdraw from this year's tournament." you bowed, "thank you for having me over."

mihawk called out your name as you turned your back on him, "i would never beg, you know that. but zoro needs you to win." you looked over your shoulder at the older man, "and i need him to win this time, no matter what. do it for this old man, for old time's sake."

for old time's sake, is it?

you looked away from the man, letting his words turn sour against your skin. a sigh escaped you, "fine. we can discuss the details through my manager. but—" you turned around, casting a sharp glance at the coach, "—i am doing this only for your sake, mihawk. nothing more, nothing less."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

16th of june, 7:52 a.m.

three days later, you were clad in your practice set, and the duffel bag with your equipment felt heavier than usual in your right hand as you run the doorbell to the kuraigana residence.

the winds were unkind, the clouds were greying and ashy, a clear reflection of your spirit as a certain moss-head opened the door. your gaze tangled against his, and for a second you felt as if somebody punched you in the gut and left you paralysed, and a seventeen year old with a broken heart again.

he was so much prettier than he seemed on camera. tousled moss hair, a scar on his eye from when you were kids and a crooked smile that he gave the cameras when he won. fucking bastard. you couldn't wait to break a badminton racket on his stupid head. put him in a fucking coma.

so what if you both didn't win? you would kill him. yes, that will satiate your hunger. prison be damned.

a wayward shock running down your spine as you moved past him and inside the mansion. wordless.

"wh-what are you doing here?" his throat seemed to have gone dry as he hurriedly walked after you, carefully avoiding saying your name lest you were a demon he could summon.

"what?" you asked as you made your way to the living room, never once turning around lest you see his face and start punching him, "what do you mean why am i here? don't you know?"

"no?" irritation snipped at the raw edges of his words, "why are you here?"

your eyes widened in part amusement, part astonishment. is he dumb? is he actually clueless? that's roronoa zoro for you, i suppose.

"she's your partner." mihawk replied coolly from where he sat on the sofa, "for the mixed doubles campion's cup."

"HER?!" his voice cracked, eyes widening as he peered down at his own father, "DAD?!"

the annoyance in his voice set you aflame and you stared down at mihawk aswell, "you didn't tell him, sir?"

"well, i did." mihawk answered nonchalantly, sipping down wine slowly, "didn't i tell you, zoro? that your partner would be coming today to practice?"

"you didn't tell me it was her." he grumbled, and your blood pressure rose as you stared down mihawk, "sir, i would not team up with such a fucking idiot."

"zoro, do not behave like a hooligan—"

zoro whipped his neck to look at you, his jaw locked and eyes narrowed, "who are you calling a fucking idiot?"

you craned your neck to stare him down in return, "you."

zoro stepped forward towards his father and pointed accusatorily towards you, his earrings chiming ever-so-softly, "i am not teaming up with her."

"me neither." you grumbled, stepping forward to match his stance, "i take back what i said, i cannot partner up with him! he's insufferable."

but mihawk stared down the both of you and for a moment, you both were two sixteen year olds who just got caught making out in his room instead of adults in your twenties about to go for a international champion's cup.

"are you both gonna behave as adults or do i need to give you a stern lecture?" mihawk asked coolly.

"'m sorry, dad." zoro mumbled and you joined him as you both stared down at the floor, "i'm sorry too, sir."

the coach stood up, "apologize to each other. now."

zoro gave you a side-eye, "sorry."

"hm. sorry."

"much better. no animosity should linger between partners." mihawk put down the glass, "onto practicing we go, now. zoro lead her to the indoor court, i would be there soon."

indoor court? what the fuck.

zoro refused to dignify you with anything as you both walked through a maze of hallways that finally opened into a proper, full-sized indoor court.

"shit." you mumbled as you took in the open roof of the court. the grey overhead clouds casted a gloomy look on the court. zoro grumbled something under his breath before switching on a button which closed the metallic roof with a soft creak.

what the fuck.

well, soon enough, you realized two very important things: first, this mansion was insane. and second, roronoa zoro was number one for a reason.

you were heaving, chest rising and falling so rapidly that it felt as if your lungs and heart would burst inwards and paint you red. your calf muscles pulsed mercilessly as sweat dripped down your eyebrow and onto the flat plane of your cheeks. blinded by exhaustion, you tried to match the movements of the man opposite to you.

he was tired but he was graceful.

roronoa zoro was heaving, sweat trailing down his hair and neck and disappearing down his black shirt. but his gaze was focused, his steps ever-so-calculated as he ran from one end of the court to the other, and as he shot down the shuttle, the muscles in his bicep rippled and came alive with a strange delight.

"zoro, don't run so much. you have nothing to prove, you look like an idiot and you would exhaust yourself." mihawk noted, his voice booming between the sounds of the air being sliced by your shots and the soft sounds of pants and groans.

mihawk called out your name next, "do not restrain your arms. think of the racket as an extension of yourself, and allow your hands to move freely. hit harder. taking it easy gets us nowhere."

"i am trying." you grit through your teeth, trying to expend force as you hit back the shuttle with all your might.

zoro moved backwards, his arms being pulled back before he hit the shuttle back to your left. you attempted to run, to catch the shuttle before it fell to the court, but your right calf cramped up and your feet wobbled as you lost your footing and fell down.

"that's enough." mihawk concluded, "this is enough practice for today."

you allowed yourself to lay down on the court, holding your pulsating calf to your chest and panting through your mouth as the oxygen slowly flooded your muscles and eased your body up.

"are you okay?" mihawk asked you as he stood above you, peering you down with his hawk-like eyes. you nodded yes with a red face and tembling lips, assuring him you were fine.

as you stared up at the ceiling, you heard zoro pick up his duffel and walk out of the court without even as much of a "good game" or a "are you okay?" and it was crystal clear how far ahead roronoa zoro was, because you were on the ground trying to catch your breath while he was whistling and walking back to his room without as much of a water break.

fuck. lot of work to be done before you could kill that asshole.

"perhaps, you should stay here." mihawk suggested as you finally pulled yourself up and he offered you a bottle of water.

you spluttered on the liquid and some of it dribbled down your lips uncharacteristically, "wh-hat? here?"

"you would have to come in every morning," he answered back, "there is no point in travelling everyday now, is there? we have many spare bedrooms."

"i-" you wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, looking up at the coach with furrowed brows, "i don't know, sir."

"we have spare rooms in the west wing, and zoro's room is in the east wing." mihawk crossed his arm, "the rest is your decision, of course."

you sighed, "is it really my decision?"

"no. a room has been set for your already." mihawk shrugged, "i thought you would agree for this old man's sake."

"jesus fucking christ, you're good at emotional blackmailing."

8:31 p.m.

"i don't understand why she's here." zoro grumbled as he munched on his dinner.

"because it is pointless for her to come and go every day," mihawk dabbed his lips with a white cloth, "and do not talk when you're eating."

"so i need to see her face everyday?"

"can you stop talking about me as if i'm not here?" you glared at man sitting opposite to you, "i don't want to see you face everyday either."

zoro smiled so politely that it made you want to rip his hair out of his scalp with a kitchen knife. prison be fucking damned.

"then, leave."

"i swear on any god—"

"—what? what do you swear? if you're asking favours from god, maybe ask for getting better at badminton." the man scoffed, thoroughly happy with his own little jab.

"mihawk," you glared daggers at zoro, "if i kill roronoa, would you turn me in to the police?"

"of course he will." zoro squinted.

you squinted back at the athelete, "no, he can just adopt me and forget about you instead. he likes me better, anyways."

"oh, does he?" zoro quipped up rhetorically and mihawk shrugged, dabbing his lips before admitting a casual "she is quite lovely."

"dad!—"

a cashmere grin, eyes never leaving the athlete. "thank you, sir."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

3rd of august, 11:07 a.m.

the next few weeks were a strange repetition, days filled only with three characteristic things: first, you woke up at five in the morning, practiced with a very-angry zoro (because god knows how much he resents those five am alarms) till you were about to pass out. second, ate food that their divinely gifted chef made. and third, bickered with zoro like a child.

"who the fuck puts a table-tennis table in the living room? money clearly cannot buy some sense of design." you glared at him as he glared right back at you. mihawk was out, the house was eerily quiet and you two had just finished up with the first practice session of the day, the adrenaline still pumping high through your mortal bodies.

"how do you know i put it in here?"

"'cause perona actually understands decor? you are the directionless idiot."

"okay. not that i have to explain to you but— first of all, it's practical for when my friends come over." he paused, thinking, "oh, do you know what friends are? they are people that voluntarily hang out with you and like—"

"oh, so funny." you mockingly laughed before crossing your arms in front of your chest. the sportsman momentarily stared down at your chest. jesus christ. he was reeled back into reality, quickly looking away and pretending to hit a mosquito. there are no mosquitoes here. a blushed crept up his face, to the tips of his ears, "yeah, i know. i'm funny."

"doesn't excuse your poor fucking decor skills."

"well, for starters, i can do what i want because it's my house—"

"—your dad's."

"and you are living in my house."

"because your dad asked me to because he likes me better."

"i-" his jaw was clenched shut as he stepped forward. his face hovered mere inches away from yours, his breath ragged as his gaze slowly cascaded down to your lips. his breath staggered helplessly, eyes quickly darting upwards to stare you in the eyes, "why don't you go and practice? get on my fucking level instead of bitching and moaning about meaningless shit?"

ah, you had almost forgotten how quickly his saccharine words turned sour. you had almost forgotten how well-versed roronoa zoro was in destruction, whether at the court or with your heart.

a certain ache built up in your chest as you pushed him back, and for a moment you both were sixteen, having your first fight all over again. except he was taller now, his eyes hardened and his tongue sharp enough to cut through you instead of kissing you sweetly and making amends.

your lips trembled, glaring up at him as you stepped closer to the man you had once been disillusioned enough to believe you knew, "fuck you, roronoa."

"roronoa? we're being formal now?" he stared down at you, eyes boring down in yours as he held himself off with barely tangible threads of sanity. his voice was barely a whisper when he spoke again, "didn't realize that's what you called me."

"i call you nothing, let me make that clear. we are not friends nor acquaintances, strangers is all."

well, strangers don't know how it feels to kiss someone in a poorly-lit room and taste of reckless first-times and childhood innocence, they do not know of each other's long-forgotten dreams, and they certainly don't look at each other as if the only thing holding them back was their own wounded prides.

you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his bicep as your quick steps led you away from him and into the room you had temporarily come to call home.

fuck roronoa zoro.

11:02 p.m.

you refused to go out of your room for lunch, or for dinner for that matter.

had you been a greater woman, perhaps you would have walked out, kept that conversation behind you for the next two and a half weeks, and simply focus on winning. had you been a lesser woman, perhaps you would have locked your door and cried into your sheets about anything and everything roronoa zoro.

but you did neither.

you sat on your bed and stared down the spotless ceilings, trying to come up with ideas to kill that man without ever getting caught. well no, prison be damned. orange wasn't such an awful colour anyways. if trump could make it work, so could you.

your phone buzzed, and the low rumbling pulling you out of the symphony of wicked thoughts that begged you to either go kill zoro or kiss him so hard that he forgets he belongs to this mortal plane — both ideas that would ultimately land you playing a gamble with death. you picked up the device only to come face-to-face with an email from your manager asking for updates.

to: [email protected]: [email protected] do you want me to kill him? for legal reasons, this is a joke. update me on how things go. don't lose your radiance over that moss-head.

"fuck," your voice was soft as your feet hit the carpeted floors, eyes locked at the time. 11:02.

although your pride held up to the resolve to starve yourself of any human contact, your stomach sadly didn't wish to comply. an embarrassing rumble made you well-aware of your hunger and you decided with a defeated sigh to go down and beg the chef for whatever he could make you at this time of the night.

you walked to the door, opening it slowly as you came face to face with—

"you?" your pupils were blown wide open, taking in a the image of a guilty-looking zoro halfway-crouched at your door, "you."

your palm found purchase against your hips, face in an easy scowl, "what the fuck do you want, now?"

"nothing?" he argued back haughtily, pulling himself to his feet hastily, "i- i was going to the bathroom."

"on the opposite wing of the mansion?" your eyes drifted down to his hands where he held a white plastic bag, "with a whole grocery bag in your hand?"

"yes?" he clutched the bag tighter, "and it's none of your business."

you gave him a look he was well-versed in. a look that practically begged him to drop this act of nonchalance and come clean. a look roronoa zoro crumbled under.

the sportsman shifted on his feet, his eyes drifting downwards to your feet as he slowly held out the bag towards you. when he spoke, his voice was matter-of-factly, "you didn't eat today."

"huh?—" you clutched the plastic in your palms, peering down to look at two packets of familiar cup noodles, a six pack of beer and a toblerone thrown in for good measure. you looked up at the man as a strange feeling made home in your veins. warmth?

you stared at the packaging, dumbfounded, "cup noodles?"

"i- i don't know if you still like these ones." he admitted softly, gaze still avoiding yours, "but i heard you said you liked these in... in one of those interviews in the last women's singles, uh the one in tokyo—"

"you watched my match?"

his fingers twitched, "no. whatever, if you don't like it, i can just take it away—"

"—how did you think i did?"

the tokyo finals were against the number one in the female category: boa hancock. beauty, grace, talent: everything good and holy found a home in her, it seemed. because at the end of the match, she defeated you with a neck-to-neck match. your 20 points to rival her 22 points. her number one title to rival your number two.

roronoa zoro finally met your eyes, a proud wayward glint in his eyes that gnawed at your insides, and a simple "you did good."

"i lost."

"doesn't refute the fact that you did good."

"if i had done good, i would have won."

"don't talk bullshit." he crossed his arms, eyebrow arched and shoulder leaning against the doorframe. the muscle bulged under his navy blue shirt, earrings glittering cautiously in the dim light as his words cut through your flimsy counterattacks, "you did well, so, take the compliment. it's not about winning, it's about getting better. you did way better than last year's sweden semi-finals."

"you saw sweden too?" you asked softly, the disbelief in your voice evident in your face, tainting your pretty features a murky shade of confused.

but zoro refused to answer what was obvious, instead rambling on about the actual game, "your shots have gotten a lot more crisper since sweden. your breath control has gotten better, and your wrist work too. not to mention that—"

"—roronoa." you halted him, "what if you lose this tournament 'cause of me?"

"we're playing as a team. if we win, we both win. if we lose, we both lose." he didn't bother comforting you. just laid the truth bare in front of you, "simple as that."

"would you... hate me? if we lost, i mean?"

his face shifted, something inkling to the ghost of a smile on his lips, "how could i ever hate you?"

what the fuck.

your gaze betrayed you as it found a home against his lips. you mind begged for answers. why did he know all that, how did he know all that, why did he fucking care? and most importantly why were you not listening to his helpful advice, instead admiring his pretty eyes and the scar that ran across them.

zoro stopped himself, features going still as he propped himself back and stood up straight. he cleared his throat and hid his features under an usual cloak of nonchalance. the sportsman nodded to the plastic bag, "just eat, and sleep soon. we need to be up early. don't think dad's gonna let us off the hook cause we were fighting in the middle of the night."

you stared at him, a furious blush building up in your cheeks, "right, thanks." you looked down at the contents again, "but you brought me two packs and six beers?"

"and a toblerone." scrambling to find an excuse, the mosshead tripped over his own words, "i– well, i mean you must be hungry. are you not? of course, you are, right? if you don't want it, you don't have to eat it."

"no, it's just— uh, do you wanna come in?" you paused, "i... don't think I can finish six beers alone."

he stood before you dumbstruck. 5'10 of muscle and flesh and skin, standing before you with a flabbergasted look in his eyes. as if he didn't want that with every inch of his body and soul. but he was a man of great restraint, so, he shook his head, "thanks, but uh— we both need to be up early tomorrow."

your throat went dry, your words as it barely audible, "of course, see you."

"hm, yeah. g'night." he grew awkward, thumbing his earring just to have something to do, "i just didn't want you to get the wrong idea— like you know, we shouldn't fight among ourselves—"

"—no animosity between partners, as mihawk says?"

"something like that, yeah." he sighed, and you found yourself being kicked in the face by whatever self-esteem you had left. of course, he was just making amends. your wretched heart and it's stupid daydreams be damned. "okay then, i'm sorry for the morning. and uh, 'night."

"'night." he turned, ready to leave and his name left your lips before you could register what was happening, "zoro—?"

he turned around immediately, an apprehensive plea in his eyes, "yeah?"

"i—" you fished for the chocolate and held it in your hands, "you can have this, i don't really like it."

he took the bar, ideally turning it in his palm, "i thought you liked these?"

"used to. five years ago. i'm not seventeen anymore." you pressed your lips into a thin line, "people change."

"uh, yeah, i guess they do." a pause, "or maybe they... don't?"

that was the last (luke)warm conversation you had with roronoa zoro. days passed you by as did a rigorous, drilling schedule. wake up, practice, practice, practice, sleep. but hey! two and a half weeks of this and you would walk home with another champion's cup to your name, so, how bad can it possibly be?

that moss-for-brains asshole was a problem for two and a half week later you. yes. indeed. indeed.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

21st of august, 9:51 a.m.

you let out a shuddering breath, adrenaline pumping through your veins and hands gripping the handle tighter. you took a step backward, positioning yourself as zoro stood to your right, ready to serve the shot.

the sound of his racket slicing the air rang through the court as the shuttle made it's way over the net and onto your opponent's side. the woman in front of you lunged forward, shooting the shuttle back towards you.

mixed doubles champion's cup. barcelona, spain. finals. you and roronoa zoro vs. ino takuma and nobara kugisaki. your 19 points vs. their 17 points in the third round. just two more and you'd win the cup.

your arm pulled backwards, right foot behind your left, head tipped back as you smashed the shuttle back into their side towards where ino stood, ready. the shuttle whirled past his racket by a hairsbreadth and fell down on the court.

"20 love." the umpire announced pointing to you and zoro, and then to the rival team, "17 love."

just one more.

"fuck yeah." zoro gave you a feral smile. his hair was drenched, sweat slowly dripping off of his jawline. he moved forward, a new shuttle in his palm and he got ready to serve again, the jersey with roronoa on it crinkled and sticking to his back. he looked over his shoulder, giving you a nod, "ready?"

"fuckin' hope so." you huffed out, nodding slowly and backing to take your position.

the shuttle left your side of the court, tearing through air and onto their side. the air was tense, the audience growing impatient as both the teams lunged to their left and right to land definitive shots. ino takuma took a step back, jumping upwards as he delivered a smash that whirled past your cheekbone and landed on the court, "fuck."

"18 love." the umpire declared, "and 20 love."

just one more.

you walked over to zoro, and he wiped his forehead off with the back of his hand. his face was angled downwards, words right against the shell of your ear, "'s fine, we're leading. we're winning."

just one more.

the next few minutes were a battle on the court. flicks of wrist, sweat trailing down your back, the feel of feet shuffling on court as you and zoro worked in sync. his shots to your steps and your shots to his, as the team opposite to you kept up their assault.

your feet moved to their own accord, skidding forward before you jumped upwards. your racket made contact with the shuttle and you smacked it down with every bit of force you had. your breath was caught in your throat, heart beating loudly, blood rushing past your eardrums as you saw kugisaki fumble and drop the shuttle.

just one more.

a roar went through the audience, mihawk yelling out in an uncharacteristic manner, and you found yourself sinking to your knees. the court felt cold and sturdy against your knees, relief washed over your shuddering form and wayward tears pooled at the edge of your eyes. your gaze lifted up, and within the blindness from the overhead lighting, you found zoro giving you the smallest of nods with a reckless smile plastered to his lips.

and then roronoa zoro proceeded to ignore you for the rest of the evening. the problem for two and a half week later you was here. fuck.

12:44 p.m.

you glanced at the man next to you through your eyelashes. how he looked annoyed and shook his head, how those cursed earrings chimed as he answered a question that the press asked, how he ignored you for the nth hour of the night.

the fucker didn't even thank you or appreciate you to your face the entire day. what a bitch.

"is it true, then?" the reporter's bangs moved enthusiastically, "are the rumors of you dating true? everyone seems to notice that the air seems charged between the two of you."

"of course not," zoro leaned into the mic, his eyes boring holes into that reporter before he chased it away with a polite smile, "those are just rumors. we're just partners." he looked at you once, twice, "right?"

"yeah." you answered, monotone. "just rumors. having him in the same team was taxing enough for me, mentally. i cannot imagine him as a boyfriend."

the reporter grinned, as if having found something worth exaggerating, "so, was having him as a partner hard? would you say law was much better?" as the mention of the brunette, you noticed zoro pick up one of the water-bottles in front of him and attempt to crush it. the reporter paused, "and you, roronoa? was it hard for you too?"

"well, we've had our differences." he crossed his arms, letting go of the poor, unassuming bottle. was he hoping his biceps would distract the crowd of rightfully-thirsty ladies? slut.

"but the most important part of any doubles game is team-work." he continued, without even giving you half a glance, "and without her, i would have failed to win. that much is for sure."

"isn't that sweet?" the woman cooed.

isn't that sweet? no. no it is not.

"so would you partner up with each-other? are we gonna see more of this dynamic duo?"

"ah," zoro looked at you, at a loss of words. you leaned into the mic, plastering on a smile, "we'd see where fate leads us."

12:03 a.m.

fate led you here.

you stared at your phone as another headline caught your eye: turns out badminton is more than a clash of rackets, it's a clash of hearts! find our the story of roronoa zoro and his partn—

the only clashing will be of a plate against that bastard's head.

you scrolled further, just to run into another headline: roronoa zoro admits feelings in press conference after the match. click to—

your fingers hovered over the link, almost opening the headline just to confirm if they saw the same press conference as you. cause there were no feelings anywhere there. right? right.

then another: love island? no! it's the champion's cup! catch the story of team-mates turned lovers—

"—what bullshit." you huffed, scrutinizing the photo under the headline that depicted you looking at zoro as he answered some question with the caption "lovesick gaze."

you threw your phone to the side and it bounced twice before falling fce-down. a pathetic groan left your lips as you dragged your palm over your face.

you should be celebrating, getting drunk somewhere maybe? or you should be sleeping, feeling satisfied after the big win. instead, you were rotting in your bed, staring at the ceilings wondering what was the easiest way to ensure you never saw your ex again. this was a one time affair, after all. all because mihawk asked you—

knock knock knock.

your feet hit the wooden floors, absentmindedly walking to the door. did you order room service? maybe they wanted to give you a cake to celebrate you? or—

"—r-roronoa?" your words died in your throat as you stared down the man in front of you. he was dressed in a casual navy t-shirt and black sweats. his hair was wet, strands sticking to his forehead, and he held a bored look on his face. "do you want something?"

"can i come in?"

he looked tipsy.

"ye- no? no." you paused, a tsunami of emotions building within you. you were supposed to get away from him! "i need to sleep. it's late."

"this won't take long." his brows furrowed, eyes softened, "i promise."

you hesitantly stepped to the side, allowing for your former partner to step in. a sigh fell past your lips as you closed the door and locked it shut.

"what is it?" you asked, and your breath hitched as zoro stepped closer. his arm on either side of you as he peered down at you as if he would devour you whole. "w-what? roronoa."

"did you hear what they're publishing 'bout us?" his words felt like thunder against your soft skin.

"no," your face grew hot with the impossible possibility that somehow he knew what you were browsing minutes before he came. you blinked up at him. careful. "what are they saying?"

he scoffed, and stepped back, "that we're lovers. it's stupid."

you looked down at the wooden floors, goosebumps erupting across your body at the fleeting contact, "it's just gossip, it'll die down. don't worry."

"i guess." he sighed, running a hand across his face. he didn't meet your gaze, muttering a cowardly "i am gonna go, then."

"what?" you looked up at him, the fiery feeling in your body turning to soot and ash, "that is all?"

"yeah?"

"you don't wanna say anything else?" you found yourself walking forward, and he stepped back to maintain the distance. a glare crossed your pretty face, "this is it?"

"did i do something?" zoro looked from your eyes to your lips to your unrelenting steps towards him, "hey, woman?"

"hey, woman?" your brows furrowed, exasperated words tumbling past you and clashing against his stone-cold exteriors, "fucking hey, roronoa? hey! how are you!— are you fucking for real?"

you stopped a mere inches away from him, index finger jabbed against his solar plexus. you looked up at him, eyes filled to the brim with mirth as you found his, "y-you didn't even fucking thank me! or say congrats— or any fucking thing."

"i didn't?" he tried to ask but the dam of your emotions was open, the ugly and grotesque that were buried within your mortal body for five years toppling over each other till they turned even more vile, "shut up."

"after all you've done and said five years prior, i thought you would have the fucking decency to end it on a good note this time around." you scoffed, eyes boring into his, "i was fucking wrong. you can never change. you'd always be roronoa zoro, the star player. and i'd be the fool that waited on you."

your name made past his lips, eyes closing as he tried to fend himself off.

"—oh now you're using my name? after two fucking months?" the laugh that you choked out was barely a laugh. you jabbed the finger deeper against his muscled body with every stressed syllable, "you left. you fucking left me. just. like. that."

"let me explain. we were seventeen—"

"—shut up. i wake up one morning, and you're gone. you fucking left town and the next i see of you, you're on the national news winning bronze in olympics." a humorless laugh, "and all that after you said you loved me."

"i still do."

"fuck you, roronoa."

"that's not what you call me." he breathed out slowly, fingers finding purchase against your wrist and bringing your hand upwards to press a chaste kiss, "that's not my name."

"fuck you, zoro." you spat out, and your fingers pulled his face downwards and towards you. you halted, your lips a hairsbreadth away from his, and he decided to close the distance by crashing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

his hands skimmed over every inch of your body, never staying one place for too long — from the back of your neck to your hips — as he drunk down any unruly noises. your fingers dug deeper against his cheeks, pulling him into your impossibly closer.

"i hate you." you whispered through the fury of kisses, as the man dragged himself downwards and placing kisses across your neck. his teeth sunk against your pulse and you whimpered as he soothed the spot with another messy kiss, "i know."

all teeth and spit and broken resolves as you pushed him backwards till he fell atop your bed.

"i hate you." your body felt like lead, as if each action was one step forward to your untimely demise.

"i know." he propped himself up, face titling upwards as you sinfully teased him. your face so close to his, so pretty as you just barely kissed him, but never getting too close lest you lose control and allow your wicked fantasies to run amok.

"don't tease." he grinned — the savage kind — as a hand came up to pull your face downwards. his fingers were firm against the hollow of your cheeks and the kiss, bruising. as if he wanted to do enough damage to make up for the past five years.

"we sh- we shouldn't." you whined into the kiss as his fingers danced under your tshirt, teasing the skin with brief contact before swiping a leisurely thumb across your perky nipples. he pulled back, face flushed as his deft fingers pulled the hem of your tshirt upwards, "don't lie. you want this."

"don't get cocky." you glared daggers at him but complied nonetheless. your fingers softly over his as he dragged your oversized tshirt upwards. his breath hitched, eyes locked on how your skin erupted into goosebumps and perked up. he leaned forward, soft lips around your hardened nipple and he hummed at the contact, "'m not gettin' cocky."

you keened into his touches, fingers pulling his still damp hair, which only prompted him to suck harder, and then chased it with a soft kiss. but you grew impatient, fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, "off."

"yes ma'am."

your fingers grabbed ahold of his jaw, tipping it backwards as you took him in. the damp hair stuck to his nape, gaze half-lidded and lips parted as he looked up at you. your gaze hardened, words caught in the thick air between you two, "this means nothing."

zoro took his shirt off, his hands pulling your warm ones to his torso. he nodded slowly, uttering false promises between open-mouthed kisses against your jaw, "nothing at all."

"i- i mean it," you whispered, your fingers tracing up and down the rigid plane of muscles and skin. your chest pressed against his as his hands snaked around your waist, "i know, baby." hot kisses smothered against your skin, "i know."

and world's number one had you pinned under him. hovering over you, the damp strands hanging loosely to frame his face. your face burned up as he traced the tip of his index finger across your face, then slowly dragged across your skin from your chest to your stomach and to the waistband of your shorts.

your hips bucked up as he thumbed the skin above the said waistband, "z-zoro."

"what do you want? tell me." his warm, calloused palms massaged your inner thighs, spreading them open to put up a show for himself. he swiped your clothed core, "wet already?"

"fuck off." a smug grin crept across his lips, head dipping down to press kisses to your exposed skin as his fingers dragged down the waistband and took off those layers off of you. he stared up, hands growing rougher, impatient, "tell me, what do you want?"

you squirmed as he continued pressing kisses, carefully avoiding your needy core. "i-" you clenched your eyes shut, embarrassment sewing itself against your skin. you mumbled, "don't make me say it."

"i need to hear ya." he licked a languid stripe, collecting the honeyed slick on the tip of your tongue. maybe he had less resolve than he had assumed, because at once he found himself licking fat strips up and down, catching your trembling bud between his lips and sucking. you tasted of divinity and sin all wrapped in one woman and he found himself at your altar, nothing more than a helpless man.

and just like that, roronoa zoro lost all sanity.

"fuck." he hummed against you, lapping at you like a man starved. his eyes stayed train on you, gaze fixated as he watched you catch your bottom lip between your teeth and arch your back. you were so pretty. it made him ache from within, something primal that made him dive into your divine cunt nose-deep and rut against the mattress like a man who knew no patience.

when roronoa zoro pulled back, you saw a man devoid of any and all trace of rationality. he was a demon ready to devour you whole. or die trying.

he held himself back, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs and hips lest he couldn't control himself. out of breath, out of mind, "tell me."

"wan' you." you mumbled, shying away from him. squirming, trying to pull away from his iron-grip on your thighs, trying, "need you t-to fuck me."

"louder." he met your eyes in a challenge, and you rivaled his stare, "fuck me."

the kiss he lay atop your hip bone was impossibly soft, his voice even more soft, "on it."

he licked quick stripes, drinking you down like you were some forbidden nectar. words barely audible as he put two fingers in your mouth. a moment later, his fingers were drilling into you. experienced hands thrusting up into you, hitting that one gummy spot over and over and over and over—

"z— ohmygod ohmygod oh—" you tried to catch your breath, tried to make sense of the situation but the mosshead caught your pulsating clit against his lips, humming and ramming into you like a mad man. watching you as you fell apart on his tongue and fingers.

twitching, bucking up, trying to run away from him as his fingers fucked you senseless. trying to run away from him?

he pulled you towards himself, putting his weight on top of your hips. you cannot run away. "don't run, don't run. not when i just got you."

"z-zoro— stop, stop it." you cried into the air, head lolling backwards as he continued his assault on your poor pussy.

"what?" he asked, gaze predatory as he continued pumping in and out of you, "see how she's gripping me? she wants me 'sbad." he thrust up harder, fingers playing against that one spot, and your body tried to turn left, to run away. but he wouldn't let you. he pulled his fingers back, just to fuck into you harder, "see. wants me so, so bad."

zoro pressed a hungry kiss to your clit, "am i taking good care of her?"

and all you could do was grip the sheets and withstand the pleasure as another tsunami built in your lower stomach. his thumb found your clit, pressing and rubbing the little nub, "answer me."

and the pressure built and built within you. tugging on your insides harshly, as he toyed with you and your aching pussy. and then it all came crashing down. spotless white washed over your eyes, head lolling back, fingers gripping the sheets so hard and a silent scream caught in your throat.

when he pulled back, his jaw was drenched, hair damp and eyes maddened. through his tunnel-vision, he found you spent on the bed. eyes clenched shut blissfully, hair tangled 'neath you, and reddened lips.

when you had the courage to open your eyes and look up at him. fuck. how dare you do that to a man? your eyes were watery, lips trembling as you told him "i can't." and roronoa zoro decided it was as good time as any to fuck you to the point of breaking.

and now he had your legs pushed to your ears, the mushroom tip dragging itself against your walls. a groan past his lips as he hooked his arm under one leg, fucking into you with all the patience in the world. so slow, so patient, so fucking agitating.

your nails dug crescent moons into his biceps, huffing out a, "f-faster, c'mon."

"hm?" his eyebrows bunched, face falling into almost a pout, "faster? think you can handle it?"

"shu-shut up ngh—" a gasp came alive as he thrust into you faster, before slowing down his pace and toying with you again. a delirious grin came to his lips as you whined out, "ugh zoro."

"just remember," he pulled it out till his tip barely kissed your entrance, and rammed it back in, "you asked for this."

and now you were pushing the same nails in his biceps, gasping as he fucked into you with abandon. he pressed kisses to your thighs, to your knees, to any part of you that was accessible to him. hot breath fanning over your skin as his dick pumped in and out of you.

"'fuck, 'zo—" he hissed like it hurt, thrusting harder at the nickname. his pace was bruising, intentions to destroy you, "say that again."

"wh-what?" you played dumb.

strong hands came up to manhandle you to sit you atop him. searing hands on your hips as he moved you up and down his cock. a stutter made past your lips as you fell forward at the sudden change in position. hands bracing themselves against the hard muscle, you bit down on your lips, eyes rolling back, "i— fuck f-fuck, zo."

balls slapping against your ass, the sound of skin on skin deafening enough between his groans and your gasps. his grip on your unforgiving as you he helped you downwards each time to meet his erratic thrusts.

heaving, sweat trailing down his bow, your nails digging into his chest as you hugged him so sinfully tight. what were you doing to this poor man and his sanity? spasming, clenching around him, unforgiving, as he rammed upwards into you.

"i-i'm gon' cum—"

"yeah?" he breathed out, eager fingers coming to tease your puffy clit. sporadic swipes of his thumb against the aching nub, raising himself up to slowly bite down on the column of your throat, "cum f'me."

"ohmygod ohmygod zo—" head thrown back, you choked back sobs of his name as the white-hot pleasure built in your stomach and released all over his abs and chest, "fu-fuck ngh sh-shit, zoro!"

you, covered in your own essence, head thrown back, hair sticking to your chest and back, face flushed, eyes clenched shut. you.

zoro turned you around, your helpless moans trapped against the pillow as his heel dug into the dirtied mattress, and he drilled his cock into you harder and harder and harder. no rhythm, no reason as he chased his own high within you.

your overstimulated cunt spasmed around him, hugging his curved dick like you were milking him for all he was worth. fuck. fuck. fuck.

"ah— fuck." he groaned in the shell of your ear, tongue darting out to lick a languid stripe at the base of your ear as you felt his hips stutter, emptying within you.

his sweaty body stilled above yours, pressing you down into the sticky mattress. a moment later, he heaved out a content sigh and pulled it out. hitched breaths, a new wave of need building within him as he stared at the milky white gushing out of your pretty cunt.

mindlessly, his fingers pushed back the creamy white back into your poor, trembling hole. he swiped at your clit one last time, and you jolted under his torturous touches. a whine into the pillow, hips bucking away from him. you warned him, "zo."

"hah, sorry." he grinned, amused at your compliant state, before collapsing next to you.

you raised your flushed face, dazed eyes finding his pretty face next to you. he looked so pretty, it hurt. his flushed face illuminated by the soft lighting from the bedside lamps, the earrings glinting as they chimed softly against his skin, the soft smile that tugged at his lips.

this was roronoa zoro, the star player.

his fingers slowly came up to your face, pushing the damp hair strands backwards. the same fingers then traced over your nose, and your bottom lips.

and there was you, the fool that always stayed.

"zo... zoro." you pulled away from his skimming touches, "you— uh, what's the time?"

you looked away from him to pick up your phone: 2:11 a.m.

"it's late." shutting the phone, you didn't turn to look at him. what if he called out your name, looked at you, persuaded you? softly, you whispered into the heady air, "you should go back to your room. it's late, and i wanna sleep."

"wh- what are you doin'?" his hands ran over your arms, desperate touches bringing you back flush against his naked chest.

"zoro." you turned to look at him, eyes barely able to hold his steady gaze, "i-" you sucked in a breath, eyes tracing downwards to stare down his tan chest, "this meant nothing, you know that."

a scoff, "are—" the expression died, eyes widening, "should i actually leave?"

you nodded before pulling back from him, "go."

"please, just listen to me—" he sat up, shoulders squaring up as if he was ready to put up a combat for that explanation. his fingers years to touch yours, "i can explain."

you pulled your hand back, holding them against your chest. your resolved hardened. this was roronoa zoro, the star player. and this was you, and you were on your goddamn level now. no longer the fool that stuck around.

"go back to your room, rorona."

"r-roronoa? it's 'zo, for you." he begged, shifting to turn fully towards, "listen to me just once."

you shook your head, "no explanation will be good enough—"

"—i couldn't say goodbye to you. or i would have never felt like leaving that town." he pleaded, hands coming up to cradle your cheek, "and that town was a dead-end for my career. i had to leave—"

"then, leave right now as well. you're good at that shit, anyways."

"please—"

"leave."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

22nd of august, 12:03 p.m.

when you saw roronoa zoro at the checkout counter, you pretended he didn't exist. he was dead. to you, anyways.

the mosshead didn't bother making conversation, too busy comprehending the reality where you didn't even bother looking at him twice. not even as you clutched the LV in your hands tighter, and walked out through the glass doors and out where your driver waited for you.

the chants of your name stopped you dead in your tracks as a swarm of reporters stood to your left, being held off by the hotel security. the swarm of cameras, notepads and haunting questions being pushed back by men in black, pristine suits.

"is it true?!" a shrill, familiar voice caught your attention. you dragged your shades upwards, giving the reporter from yesterday a compliant smile, "is what true?"

"that you and roronoa zoro are together?!"

your eyebrow twitched, and you dragged the sunglasses downwards. the world was tinted a dark brown, and you put on another polite smile. that bastard be damned. "n—"

"yeah." the jock called out, a self-satisfying smile on his face as he stood behind you. his arm came to wrap around you, flesh against flesh feeling familiar as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, "got a problem with that?"

you whipped to look at the man that had come to become the bane of your existence and the object of your desires. but before you knew what was happening, you were being ushered by his 5'10 self into the car backseat. when you came back to reality, the car was already was on the highway and zoro was looking out the window as if he didn't just do that.

"what the fuck?!" your voice was shrill, "what the fuck, roronoa? what did you just do?!"

"it's good for publicity." he replied, solemnly. "my manager told me to do that."

"which deranged bastard is your manager?" you fisted your hand, the leather handle of the purse almost disintegrating under the intensity. glaring at him with murderous intent, you choked out a, "tell me now and i'll get sanji to murder him."

"her." zoro corrected, "name's nami. she's the best in the game."

"you're dead, roronoa."

"ah, no i'm not." he grinned, a mad man. "cheer up, babe. we have appearances to keep up."

what the fuck.

a/n: hello. uh, i have nothing to say except i just really wanted to write this 🤡. not proofread cause its uhm 10k words. nobody's gonna read this shit anyways, i think. if you've read this whole, THANK YOU!!! MWUAH MWUAH MAY BOTH SIDES OF YOUR PILLOW BE COLD AND YOU GET TO EAT SOMETHING GOOD <3 part two? yes, i wanna. roronoa zoro being a menace is my favourite gender. [psss, if you've sent in requests, girlie IM TRYING IM SORRY. may lord give me strength, and i may give you some fics!] tagging: @help-i-lost-my-sock because ur the only one with enough strength to read this. thankyou so much for putting up with my bs <3 m.list

#one piece #the op aus series <3 #opla #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #zoro smut #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro smut #zoro x reader smut #zoro #zoro opla #op zoro #op

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 8 months ago

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If you look at the trademark application for American Riviera Orchard, you’ll see that she’s trademarking it through a newly registered in Delaware company called Mama Knows Best, LLC.

Infact when you dig into the domain names etc, it seems this was thrown together last minute aka 2months ago after KC3/ PssoW C’s illnesses were announced. They are using PR to pretend they were working on it for an entire year, but even Scobie said they had nothing or whatever they had was all over the shop and he had no idea what it would be.

His comments don’t speak to a focused vision that is researched into whatever this is.

And what’s glaring about this launch is the lack of anything to sell. Not videos or actual products which speaks to the theory that this wax thrown together very quickly.

Russell Myers from the Mirror says if you sign up to the website, you get a respinse telling you that you’ll be notified of products when they are created/ available……if this was a year in the making and with proper marketing/ PR people, they’d have products ready to go. What it is right now is a landing/ holding page ( comments turned off on IG) until it produces products.

It’s also interesting that the video is showcasing cooking which Markle tried to manifest for years while dating Corey. She auditioned and or popped up on varioys cooking shows/ fashion segments hoping to be hired. Acvording to people magazine, this launch of a lifestyle brand will have a companion show on Netflix. If Network tv won’t hire her for dream job then she’ll use her distribution deal to make it happen aka pay herself to make it happen!!!

However, one thing she revealed which tells me she has no clue about aspirational lifestyles/ branding. Her home kitchen hasn’t been updated from the dated 2000s/ early 2010s decor. It’s tye same kitchen from the sales brochure.

Infact, glimpses of their home show a distinct lack of updating from the sales brochure. The onpy room thry updated is the one with the dining table as desk and their two side by side chairs. They removed all furniture and painted it white and addedva jute rug and that california bear poster over the fireplace.

The current trend in kitchens for the wealthy is marble counter-tops and sleek designs meanwhile she’s displaying faux country/ italianate kitchen from the 90s.

The women she is cosplaying eg GOOP, Martha and Ina Garten have upgraded to the current trend in kitchens. GOOP showed off her new kitchedn in AD. Heck, JLO is showing off her sleek kitchen.

*****************

That they haven’t updated their house to their taste is what I laugh about the most. Are they really that cash-poor? Do they really have that much debt that they can’t afford to redo anything? Surely Markus and Soho House can cough up a few million to keep her happy, and when the Sussexes default on the loans, they can make Soho Olive Garden, a Californian spinoff of Soho Farmhouse. Win-win, if you ask me.

meanwhile she’s displaying faux country/ italianate kitchen from the 90s. ➡️ Remember, Meghan’s whole aesthetic is 90s. Of course she wants the Italian Country kitchen.

And thanks, anon. You’ve just reminded me of a house I looked at when I was moving back in 2022. The homeowners were so into that Italian Country Kitchen theme that they PAINTED the entire kitchen like it was a rustic Italian restaurant. You know you go into a family-owned Italian mom-and-pop place (not a chain like Olive Garden or Maggianos, but something like your neighborhood Italian pizza place) and it’s got that orangey-beige sponge paint that’s supposed to mimic sandstone and there’s a huge wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling mural of Italy and dusty fake vines hanging from decorative columns? Yeah, that was how this kitchen was painted. Even the cabinets. And that was not even the weirdest house I looked at by a mile.)

#submission #ask #sussexes #roop

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queen-scribbles · 14 days ago

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smooth sailing

25. Smooth (pre-WotR; Trinne backstory)

This part of the house was empty now, had been for a few months. Made it a good place to come and think, or just enjoy the quiet. Trinne needed that today. Her thoughts were still a tangle over recent familial developments and if she had to hide in her sister's old rooms to process them, so be it.

She meandered through the practice room, past the sheet-shrouded harp, her fingers trailing the smooth marble-top table by the balcony doors. A breeze ruffled her hair as she opened the doors and stepped out, leaning against the railing. She'd always envied the view Simone had from here, maybe once the weirdness of her being gone had worn off, she could--

"Already plotting to steal my room?"

Trinne flinched, barking her knuckles on the rail as she spun around. "Simone?!"

Her older sister grinned, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe, glint of gold and amethyst on her finger. "Miss me, sprout?"

Trinne rolled her eyes. "Told you not to call me that. An' you've barely been gone two months, that's not enough time to miss you."

(Yes, it was.)

"Ow." Simone was still grinning, despite the complaint. "Maybe you missed me a little?"

"Maybe a little," Trinne said, faux-grudging and shaking out her sore knuckles as she crossed to hug her sister. "Did you have a good honeymoon? See anything cool? Most important" --she smiled winningly, arms around Simone's waist-- "did you bring me anything?"

Simone rolled her eyes and laughed. "Funny, that was Vera's chief interest, too. But she's six. Little more understandable than when you're fourteen," she teased, mussing Trinne's hair.

Trinne yelped and ducked back. "Hey, I had other questions, too! It's not the only thing I care about."

"Well, then, in order: yes, I had a good honeymoon, and I don't think you want me to elaborate further, we did see several cool things, but I'd rather tell everyone at the same time. And..." she held out a small velvet pouch that had been curled in her hand until now, "we did get you something."

"Ooo!" Trinne just managed to not snatch the pouch in her excitement, loosening the drawstring to empty the contents, a necklace, into her palm. "It's so pretty!"

The pendent was a dark bluish-grey pebble, flat and polished glass-smooth, almost twice the size of her thumbnail. A delicate silver setting had been carefully mounted on one end to connect it to the chain.

"One of the islands we visited has tidal pools around most of the coast. The ocean coming in and out but being somewhat calmed by the pools wears all the rocks extremely smooth," Simone explained. "And because of the pools, the smaller ones don't always gets washed back out. The locals make them into jewelry. I thought you'd like that, since you enjoy traveling as much as I do."

"I love it, thank you!" Trinne effused, slipping on the necklace. She rubbed the pendent between her fingers, marveling at the silky smoothness, the thready white line that crawled through the center.

"You're welcome. It's supposedly lucky, too," Simone winked. "Safe travels and smooth sailing. Guess you'll have to convince Da to take you on one of his trips to test it out."

She grinned back. "Guess I will. So, how long're you visiting?"

"Rest of the day while our ship resupplies," Simone said, teasing glint in her eyes. "Might spend the night if my little sister doesn't have designs on my bedroom."

"Hey, you can watch the Wittens' peacocks from your balcony," Trinne defended, her neck warming. You caught me.

"You can also hear them from here," Simone deadpanned. "You want to deal with that racket in the barely-tolerable hours of the morning, you can tell Mum and Da to switch our rooms. You have my blessing, sprout."

Trinne bit down the instinctive protest of the nickname and hugged her sister again. "You're the best, Sim. Now," she let go and grabbed Simone's hand to start dragging her out of the room. "I wanna hear about where you went and what you saw, let's get everyone together!"

Once the family was gather, Trinne sat and listened with rapt attention to the recounting of everywhere Simone and her husband had gotten to see, fingers rubbing her new necklace as she hoped she'd get to do the same someday.

#queens fic #owlcatober 2024 #WHOOPS almost forgot #but it's still technically the 25th in my timezone lol #trinne amell #woth #pathfinder wotr

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callipraxia · 1 month ago

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October 1: Getting up in the morning

Made in response to @thepromptfoundry's Oc-Tober list of prompts. Here are a couple of Gravity Falls OCs I haven't actually used in a published work yet, but which have been part of various half-formed Plans for some time now. Everyone, meet Dr. Corwynt (a therapist in the weirdest place on his version of Earth) and Rouk (a bird person on a mission through the multiverse, which has been slightly sidetracked by the Gideon Gleeful and Ghost Eyes of the FWJB-verse hijacking his spaceship).

Dr. Corwynt

The alarm clock went off precisely thirty seconds after Dr. Corwynt opened his eyes, and he went through the first of the two facial expressions which bracketed his morning routine as he frowned at it while turning it off. Why he turned the thing, with its capacity for producing head-splitting racket, on every night was not something he could adequately explain: it was simply part of the routine to do so, just as it was routine, once his eyes had focused on the stamped seventies ceiling above his narrow bed and he had reviewed his memory to ensure it contained no dreams, for him to then rise, bathe, and put on most of a dark blue suit. There was no alarm to tell him when to stop each of those activities and when to begin the next one, because that was not part of the routine. Then he shaved his face, taking extra care as usual with the right side, and went into the kitchen.

The appliances were not as uniform as the ceilings, but they did have an average age of more than ten years in common between them. He did not mind this especially, not least because he hadn't bought them; this flat had been advertised as furnished, and he was therefore satisfied with everything in it so long as each item continued to work correctly. The stove was one of the older devices in residence, so he waited to make sure it had actually started getting hot before he started taking out the things he'd need to prepare the same breakfast he ate every morning: that was, two eggs, scrambled together and seasoned with a single twist of each of the spice grinders in the cabinet above the stove, two slices of toast with lemon curd, one cup of milky coffee, and one cup of plain, strong black tea, which - for reasons he had never been entirely sure of, considering they were on the opposite side of the planet - the vendors insisted on calling a Scottish Breakfast blend. Once the food and coffee were consumed, he marked off all the routines necessary to the maintenance of a human body as complete and moved into the next phase of the day, which began with washing and putting away the dishes he'd just used: the pan for scrambling the eggs, the plate which had held everything solid, the mug which had held his coffee, and the cutlery which had made eating an at least reasonably tidy affair. Once he was satisfied that the kitchen was in order, he picked up his teacup and saucer and took them with him into the lounge, where he proceeded to drink his drink his tea while sitting in the soft chair and looking intently at a framed photograph on the opposite side of the room, which hung beside the door which led out of the apartment. Once the tea was complete, he put the cup and saucer on the small, faux-marble-topped table beside his chair and then walked over to the photograph, where he made his second and final facial expression of the morning, frowning again as he examined it at closer range.

It was old, this photograph: it had been taken in color, but most of the colors had long since started to fade, so that not everything was as sharp as it might have been. It was, however, nevertheless easy enough to make out that there were two boys in the foreground. Both were dark-haired and dark-eyed, and they stood about the same height, but one was heavier-set than the other and had a third figure, a girl, perched on his shoulders and peering over the top of his head as he smiled at whoever had been holding the camera. This boy was the main subject of Dr. Corwynt's scrutiny, with his eyes only occasionally rising to consider the girl and almost never going toward the second, slighter, more solemn-looking boy at all. If a third party had been present, and had looked closely, they might have noticed that the second boy's features could have easily matured into something very similar to Dr. Corwynt's own, but there was one difference between the two which he imagined would always keep the casual viewer (not that he was in the habit of allowing either casual or attentive third parties into his house or allowing them to study his belongings) from realizing that they were the same person: the boy in the photograph had nothing even vaguely resembling the long, curved scar which stood out against the doctor's right cheek, and which was easily the most memorable aspect of his appearance to most others.

"No," he said, aloud, after a moment. He rested a couple of long fingers gently on the image of the other boy. "No...I don't think I'll forgive you today, Perry. I'll consider it again tomorrow."

Perry, obviously, did not answer. Because he was quite sane, though, Dr. Corwynt didn't expect any other outcome, and with that last ritual complete, he took his suit jacket off the cloakstand beside the front door, put it on, and started undoing the several layers of locks holding the door shut in order to get on with his day as the only licensed practitioner of mental health services who had, so far, managed to stay for any length of time in Gravity Falls, Oregon.

__________________________________________________________

2. Rouk

He had trained himself to ignore it, at least for the most part, but there was always a part of Rouk which missed mornings. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be a part of him that had any inclination to decrease in size as he spent more and more time away from home, and it was especially noticeable when he found himself, as he now did, waking up for the far-too-manyth time in the timeless chaos of the Inbetween. Even, he thought irritably, the perpetual dark of the Void and a handful of fringe dimensions he'd visited before wasn't quite as disorienting as this; at least in those places, one could pretend that eventually the sun would rise. Here, though....

One day again.

It had been a long time, of course, since the mantra had started to lose meaning, but he held onto it just the same. To do otherwise might well be to begin the process of giving up, and to give up would be to fail, and to fail was not an option. Therefore, he recited the phrase to himself once, allowing his mind to go where it would for that moment, before he firmly put all thoughts of suns and his colony's roost out of his head and began his devotions to the Lady, who, in the mornings (or what passed for mornings, anyway, at the moment), was in her bright aspect as the Watcher of Ten Thousand Ways. That done, he left his sleeping pod, thinking vaguely of his breakfast and only remembering that he might need to have a knife fight or two in order to obtain it once he'd stepped out onto the main deck, where the ship's other three true bipeds were all gathered, if not exactly gathered together.

A quick look around showed no evidence that anyone else had resorted to violence this morning, which was always a good sign, but since Ivan wasn't in yet, there was still a chance things could get...interesting. in the meantime, though, the ship's night pilot, a Hybrid Mutate called Meili, bared her teeth in what passed for a friendly greeting among her kind despite the dark circles under her golden-green eyes, and Rouk inclined his head in an equally familiar gesture of acknowledgment as he bowed to her in response. The bow was shallower than usual, but although he still struggled to interpret mammalian body language and supposed they found his just as perplexing, he suspected that, this once, Meili would realize that he intended no offense to her and was merely keeping the area's other two occupants in clear view of one eye.

Humans, they were; he hadn't met many of their kind, but he'd met enough to recognize them. Peculiar creatures, they were, even more peculiar than Meili, who at least had patterns to her, blots of dark grey breaking up the otherwise white hair which covered most of her head and fell down her back. The two creatures sitting off to one side, though, were...blocks of uniformity, only occasionally broken by blocks of other uniformity: the one who seemed to be in command between them, the pale one, at least had something of a crest, but the other, the big one, seemed to have put his head together wrong, so that his hair fell from nose to chest instead of perching on top like his master's did and the way Rouk had gathered most humans' hair did. Meili, at least, also didn't have hair on the bottom half of her face, and although it was a distant relationship, the Hybrids were still considered part-humans in regions where that mattered. Rouk endeavored not to stare, but it was disconcerting to see just how much bare flesh true humans seemed to put on display, and he wondered, not for the first time, how they managed not to freeze to death with neither fur nor feathers to supplement their clothing. Fur was uninteresting, not nearly as visually appealing as his feathers, but at least it was some covering....

The pale human stood and, to Rouk's surprise, folded his talonless hands at his waist and bowed correctly, just as one should to a new acquaintance. From the way his face moved about, Rouk thought he was possibly surprised by his own behavior, too, but then, humans were known for using their bodies and voices alike to lie; humans weren't to be trusted, everyone knew that. That did not, however, mean that it was excusable to be rude to them, even if they had just stolen the ship he had only recently managed to steal back from someone else, if they somehow knew enough to be marginally polite, and so Rouk returned the bow just as correctly, being very sure not to incline his head or break eye contact in any way.

"You have traveled more than most of your kind," Rouk observed.

The humans seemed to take a moment to figure out what he'd said even after their translators rendered into human-babble; creatures without beaks often seemed to have that problem, so that wasn't a surprise. Finally, they glanced at each other and then back at him.

"I - I reckon so?" the pale human glanced at the big human. "I'm guessin' we've met other fellers like this...sometime or another?"

"A few times, Boss."

The pale human shook its head. "How I forget seein' some kinda bird-man before but don't forget how to say hello to one, I got no idea..." With an effort, Rouk refrained from either pointedly ruffling his visible feathers or clicking his beak in annoyance at the creature. It frowned at nothing for a moment, then said, "well - nice to meet yer, anyway. Name's Gideon."

Rouk felt a few of the smallest feathers on his face stir involuntarily in confusion once his translator implant conveyed the sense of what the creature had said to him. "Nice," he repeated. "I did not think that hijacking ships was what humans considered...nice."

The humans both began to look redder in the face, but not, apparently, for the same reason; the big one started to rise, growling something that sounded like a threat before any effort was made to translate it, but the pale one snapped his fingers and turned his head back and forth a little twice and then the big one instantly sat down again. Yes - the big one had been the one who had come barging into the ship demanding that they get him and his 'Boss' off Lottocron 9 immediately, but the pale one was in control, even though that made very little sense. What sort of hierarchy would put the pale one on top when he was shorter than Meili and anyone else on this ship, including Ivan, could have broken him in half without much effort? Did he come from a world where humans did everything backwards just for the sheer joy of contrariness? Was this supposed to be human humor?

"Temp'rary matter of necessity," the pale human, Gideon, said. "This - old gal we ran into back there in where we just come from, she done gone and robbed us. Soon as we catches up with her, we'll be out of y'all's hair and no harm done."

Rouk's translator made a valiant effort to cope with Gideon's syntax and vocabulary variations, but it finally conceded defeat with a beep. Going over what he understood of the language the human was using manually didn't do much good, either; he gathered that someone had robbed the humans and that they wished to apprehend the someone, but everything else....

Meili had her hands on her head, flattening down her ears. "I think I know what language you're speaking," she said, "but you have the strangest dialect I've ever heard."

The humans seemed displeased by that remark as well, but were distracted quickly - quickly and understandably. Ivan had just hopped onto the deck and was talking to himself in a rapid rumble of disjointed syllables which instantly inspired Rouk and Meili to tap the sides of their heads in order to shut their translators off before they started trying to make sense of them. Ivan, for his part, showed no sign that he'd noticed any of them. His bulbous eyes were fixed on nothing as he came to a stop and rose up on his back legs so he could raise the front ones to check and re-check the straps which secured his helmet, making sure it could not move a micrometer off-center on his pebbly head. This was fairly routine behavior, too, but there was an extra sort of urgency Rouk recognized in the gestures which it seemed logical to attribute to the humans' recent behavior....

"Sleeping over," Ivan croaked finally. "Sleeping over. My ship now. Mine." And he groaned as if he found the idea physically painful, webbed toes spreading out to press his helmet just a little bit more firmly down on his head.

"Yep," said Meili, doing an admirable job of maintaining the tone which she seemed to think indicated all was well and normal no matter how bizarre it might happen to actually be. "All yours, Iv. My turn to sleep."

As soon as Meili was out of the pilot's chair, Ivan - still with no acknowledgment of their unwelcome guests - dropped his front legs from his head back to their default position at the floor and hopped over to it. He began to laugh as he strapped himself in, singing 'mine, mine, mine' to himself as he adjusted the controls back into the positions more comfortable for his anatomy, all distress seemingly forgotten. The humans were staring at him and even Meili shook her head and said, in an undertone, "You know, you said you and Ivan are from the same place, but you never did explain why you didn't leave him there...."

Rouk considered several answers before he settled on, "that's because I would prefer not to."

#oc tober #writing prompts #original character #it wouldn't make much more sense in context #also these are incredibly rough drafts I wrote in two hours #gravity falls fanfic #for want of a jailbreak #fwjb #gideon gleeful

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nevercured · 1 year ago

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Hey Never!!

I hope you’ve been doing well, but how have you been? You’ve gone MIA for a little while, so I think you’ve been cooped up with work. But still, remember to take care of yourself! Hydrate and take your meals regularly! :) How has your week been, anything interesting happen as of late? Feel free to chat about anything!! I for one, am pretty tuckered out with all the orientation programmes and socialising, but meeting my freshmen are great! :)

-🦭

Hey 🦭,

Good to hear from you again. You're correct-- I have terrible work-life balance. But anyone who follows the blog knows that already lol.

As for anything interesting... I finally got around to designing my new place. I decided to leave most of my old furniture behind when I moved cross-country, so I've had to re-buy everything. New bed, couch, etc. It's been satisfying for me to build furniture on the weekends/after work. I enjoy working with my hands.

My favorite piece of furniture I purchased is this black transforming ottoman. It has four different transformations-- it can be an ottoman, a chair, a lounger, or bed. Very functional and a great fabric. I also purchased a round coffee table with a faux marble top that compliments it quite well.

I've become a bit obsessed with interior design. I want everything I own to look perfect, whether that's a piece of furniture or a darling. I'm very particular about my space.

Hope you've been able to recoup since orientatientation. Thanks for the letter.

-Never🗡️

#asks #🦭#irl yandere #personal

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wingsdreamt · 2 years ago

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@steeleidolon (happy birthday, Kunsel)

Today's date is significant, even if Zack has not done or said anything outwardly to acknowledge it beyond what their friends already have planned for the night outing. Not yet, at least.

It always starts with an idea.

His ideas are never fully formed from the get go, taking on shape as time and circumstance guide him towards the right moment.

Okay, he isn’t not so much waiting for a nebulous ‘right moment’ in this case considering he’s had the date highlighted on his calendar app for practically as long as they’ve known each other, but that’s the general gist of it.

In the rare moments where Kunsel was occupied but Zack was not; that had been the time to conduct his research in secrecy. Saving gil was the easy part in all this. His drawings may have been a bit crude, his attempts at a description may have been eyebrow raising, but he was earnest and persistent no matter how many parlors turned him away.

Last week, and not a moment too soon, he finally found someone willing to sit down with him long enough to put together a general picture of what earrings he needed to get.

The Clandestine Rabbit had seen many an odd client in Haley’s many years working here, but never one with such an unusually simple, albeit particular request. He’d been going about it all the wrong way, of course. She could not tell from a drawing alone what sort of piercings a person might have worn. No matter how detailed or passionately of a description of ear scarring Zack could deliver after visuals failed, it took her several minutes of talking the young man down to convince him that he needed to rethink his approach to his little problem. Coaxing out the story behind the giftee in question put them on the right track.

“You said he’s from Cosmo?” Haley asked, seeking final confirmation with eye contact as she tucked a choppy lock of black hair behind her ear and reached up above her head to pull a navy binder labeled ‘Excerpts from Intersection of Anthropology and Jewelry’ in silver by a felt-tipped marker off a black, spray-painted bookshelf plastered on all sides with all sorts of stickers and decals. Tracking from left to right as she scans the contents, Haley flipped through a few plastic-sleeved scans in the binder before leaning down and pushing it across the glossy, faux marble coffee table. “Personally, if you guys are as close as you say you are, I don’t think he’ll care if they’re not exactly the same as the ones he used to have.”

Zack’s nose scrunched minutely at the advice, but the way his lips twisted to one side showed he was giving her suggestion serious thought. Looking down at the black and white spread of photos and illustrations of peoples from Cosmo Canyon, Zack traced his fingers lightly over the image of a woven mat and the items arranged on top of it. A small clay bowl held precious stones and metals that have been shaped into wearable jewelry. Dried plant stems and delicate, angle-point needles, carved from various natural materials like wood or possibly bone, are laid adjacent.

"Yeah...okay," Zack decided, looking clear-eyed and resolute. "Can I book an appointment for two on the twentieth sometime in the evening? I can put down a deposit and everything. And…If you have similar ones like these–" he pointed to a few simple designs charted out on a magnified view of the pictured bowls' contents "-- I'd love to purchase them for my friend."

Since then, the week passed by at what felt like an agonizing pace.

Essai and Sebastian have a self-satisfied, knowing look about them as Zack casually posits an evening walk over to check out Sector One's Night Market after dinner. Where the Clandestine Rabbit is conveniently situated against the backdrop of colorful and ephemeral canopies, of course. The crowd parts around them like a moving river as they discuss their plans.

"Sorry, Zack. Seb and I are accounted for for the rest of tonight. We've got service tech duty in the garage in the morning so we need to go wrestle Roche for the toolkits. You and Kunsel have fun though!" Essai reaches over to playfully ruffle Zack's hair before he turns to drag Sebastian off down the street with him. No chance given for Zack to even get a word in edgewise, though he does glower at his friends’ backsides with a stuck out tongue as they go. Well, that’s fine. It probably works out better this way.

They start off in the opposite direction under a sea of neon lights. Zack stretches out his arms, then crosses them behind his head as he steps out in front of Kunsel and keeps pace in reverse with an easy grin.

"Okay, okay. But I've been thinking. I wanted to get both ears pierced."

Planet, does he look nervous? Why does he feel so nervous? He's been planning this for ages.

Maybe it's too obvious what he's planning.

No backing out now.

"There's a tattoo and piercing parlor right out by that stall we always grab taiyaki from and I figure we could check it out while we're there."

#a week early!!#ill tag this later when i get home lol #steeleidolon #all of your edges fit right into mine -- steeleidolon.#kunsel.#[ μ ] – εγλ 1992 - 0000.

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shingekinohyrulewrites · 2 years ago

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Unteachable

After a chance encounter at your town's Summer's End Carnival, you hook up with a hottie.

Only to find out he's your English teacher.

This fic displays a teacher/student relationship, where the reader is 17. This sort of relationship is NEVER okay, especially given the power difference between a teacher and student. This is a clear abuse of power. So if this is a topic/trope that greatly bothers you, I would suggest seeking other fics out.

Read first chapter here

Read previous chapter here

Kirishima was set to drive you to Homecoming at seven sharp, and your parents were waiting for him so the two of you could take photos together. You and the girls had decided to go forward with the Cinderella dress theme, and you checked your reflection one last time before making your way downstairs. The dress you had settled on was rather simple, with thin straps and a cut that was appropriate enough but the bra you had selected allowed for some slight cleavage. The most scandalous part of your dress was the slit on the left side, stopping midway up your thigh to show some notable skin. You had paired it with a simple pair of strappy silver heels, the rhinestones shining in the low light of your bedroom.

“Honey! Kirishima’s here!”

Sucking in a breath, you grabbed your clutch and carefully made your way down the stairs. Kirishima was standing by the front door, chatting with your parents. He was dressed in a navy suit to match your dress, his signature red hair slicked back instead of in its usual spiky style. Upon hearing your heels he turned his head, eyes going wide as he appraised your figure. You noticed him shuffling his feet awkwardly and you wondered if he was nervous.

“Hey.”

Your parents immediately gushed over the two of you, pushing you together to get some photos. Kirishima gently placed his hand on your hips, pulling you towards him and smiling down at you.

“You look gorgeous,” he murmured into your hair.

“Thanks,” you replied, placing a hand on his chest and angling your body towards your parents.

The photos took about ten minutes, and it wasn’t until you reminded your parents you had a dance to go to that they backed off. Kirishima promised not to keep you out too late and your parents assured him that it was fine, that they trusted him and just to get you home whenever in one piece.

Your group of friends was waiting for you in the parking lot. The girls squealed when they saw you, pulling you into a tight hug and spinning you around.

“Girl, that slit is dangerous!” Momo gasped. “Kirishima, you better watch out!”

“You look hot,” Ochaco giggled.

“We need to take photos later!” Tsui announced.

“We need to get into the actual dance before we can do anything,” Iida reminded you all, and with that you headed inside.

The gymnasium had been transformed into a beautiful ball, with chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling and faux marble columns spread evenly on the sides. Round tables with silver tablecloths were laid around the gym, small candelabras lit with white candles. A photo booth was on the left side, with a backdrop of the famous stairs from the Disney movie. The DJ was playing casual tunes, the familiar voice of some Top 40 artist floating through the air.

“I’ll get you a drink,” Kirishima said, giving you a peck on your head before disappearing.

“Okay, so food, drinks, photo?” Tsui asked.

The girls began to discuss the potential itinerary for the night and you absently listened. Your eyes flickered around the gymnasium, seeing which teachers had been pulled for chaperone duty. Ever since Kai had ended things with you, he had been nothing but formal to you, treating you just like the other students in his English class. There had been many nights where you had wanted to message him, to tell him that it was okay, that you just wanted him, but you didn’t want to push him or come off as desperate.

“Here you go.”

Kirishima handed you a red cup of juice and you thanked him. Your group had begun moving towards a table, and the two of you followed them. The first half hour was spent eating, chatting excitedly about your plans for college, the future, perhaps even plans for after the dance. The DJ had introduced himself, announcing that he would be playing the “danceable stuff” at eight thirty.

“That means we have time for photos! Come on!”

Tsui was insistent on photos, and you all obliged. You all began arranging yourselves, deciding to take individual shots before taking a group one. As you approached the booth, you felt your heart dropping as you saw the teacher in charge.

“Yo! Mr. Chisaki! Are you taking our photo tonight?”

He shook his head, giving you all a polite smile before replying.

“No, I’m afraid not. I’m just here to supervise and make sure the photos are appropriate.”

His eyes fell on each of your friends, saving you for last. Satisfaction was the only way you could describe how you felt at seeing his eyes widen. Despite your friends standing there, he let his eyes slowly rake down your body, focusing on the slit on your leg before swallowing nervously. You gave him a smug smile, turning to Kirishima and asking if you two could go first.

You took the side closest to Kai, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you positioned yourself next to Kirishima. Popping your left hip, you put your left leg forward, allowing the slit to open and revealing your leg completely. You felt Kirishima’s hand wrap around your hip like before, and you allowed your body to melt into his side.

“Smile!”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Kai’s jaw tense. You gave the camera a big smile, angling your head towards Kirishima in an attempt to look cozy. The photographer allowed you two to preview the photo and you were surprised at how seductive you looked.

“Alright, next couple!”

You and Kirishima moved aside, and you found yourself standing next to Kai. Ochaco and Deku went next, but the two had a hard time posing as they were both embarrassed to stand so close to each other.

“I know I shouldn’t say this, but you look breathtaking. That slit is rather . . . distracting.”

Kai had leaned towards you, muttering in your ear discreetly.

“Thanks,” you replied simply.

Your friends were still wrapped up in teasing Ochaco and Deku so Kai took that chance to speak to you again.

“Have . . . you been alright?”

“Why do you care?” you asked, turning your head to stare at him before abruptly turning back.

“Next couple!”

Bakugou and Momo went next, but you kept on standing next to Kai.

“I know that I should have been more proper with how I ended things. I acknowledge that, and I’m sorry.”

Bakugou began to argue with the photographer, and your friends jumped in to tell him to stop and shut up.

“Forgive me for saying this, but I am using every bit of restraint to take you from here and rip that dress off of you.”

You gasped, turning to give Kai a wide eyed look.

“Kai!” you hissed. “My friends are standing right there.”

“I know, but now, seeing you . . .”

Bakugou had finally settled down, and the photographer counted down before snapping their photo. Denki and Jiro went next, switching between what sides they wanted to stand on as they decided what was their best side. The photographer offered to take a test shot to test their good sides and the two agreed.

“Are you and Kirishima dating?”

You slowly turned to look at Kai. Although his expression was blank, you could see worry in his eyes at your possible answer. Shaking your head, you turned back to Denki and Jiro, who had settled on a pose and smiled at the camera. Kai was silent as the rest of your group went before you clambered together for a chaotic group photo.

“Alright you’re all set! Enjoy the rest of your night!”

Your friends thanked the photographer before turning to say goodbye to Kai. He responded with a simple wave, reminding you guys to behave yourselves. His eyes gave you one last look over, jaw tightening before he turned towards the next group of students approaching.

The DJ had begun playing music and you all rushed towards the dance floor. Kirishima kept one hand on you, whether it was your shoulder, waist, or the small of your back. You began by dancing silly, jumping around to the beat with the girls. As the music got better and a little more raunchy you stuck with Kirishima, wrapping your arms around your neck before he whirled you around, pressing you against his hips. It didn’t take long before your grinding had him popping a boner, the realization making you flush. You had been grinding on him for two songs when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Mr. Kirishima, I expect much better behavior from you and your date.”

Kai was standing behind you, one eyebrow cocked as he gestured for you to step apart. Your friends followed suit, keeping their eyes low in embarrassment as he gave them a warning look.

“M-Mr. Chisaki,” Kirishima stuttered. “Sorry, we got carried away.”

He turned to look at you.

“I assume you’ll behave yourself now?”

You tried hard not to glare at him but instead settled for a slow nod. He gave your group one last look before scanning the crowd and disappearing into it. Frustrated, you told Kirishima you were going to the bathroom before slipping away. Anger continued to boil in you as you practically ran to the bathroom. The hallway was empty as you entered, your heels clacking and echoing off the walls. You were about to turn the corner to reach the bathroom when someone abruptly pulled you.

Kai pulled you into an empty classroom, closing the door before moving you both where you were out of sight from the door. You glared at him, glancing past him towards the door in an attempt to escape.

“I’m sorry. It’s the only way I can talk with you tonight.”

You refused to look at him, keeping your arms crossed as you glared down at the floor. He let out a quiet sigh before taking careful steps towards you.

“Can we talk, please? You can go back to your friends, just give me five minutes.”

“Clock’s ticking,” you barked out.

“I’ve been doing some thinking ever since I broke things off with you. Yes, you deserve to enjoy your senior year with your friends, but I want to enjoy those things with you.”

You furrowed your brows, keeping your gaze low.

“I knew this would be complicated from the second you walked into my classroom. But I accepted those complications and tried to make things work.”

He let out another sigh before continuing.

“I thought it would be better for you to not get involved with someone older. I mean, you should be interested in boys your own age. I thought you and Kirishima would be a good match and that it would work out much better for you.”

“Kirishima is my best friend,” you replied, lifting your eyes to give him another glare before looking back down.

“I know,” he said. “But seeing you with him . . . I realized I just wanted you to myself.”

His fingers gently grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to finally look at him. His golden eyes were focused intensely on you, searching your face for some sort of response.

“Seeing you in this dress has really fucked me up, angel.”

Your eyes drifted over to the door.

“We have a few minutes before my friends worry about me.”

The two of you ended up in his car. He had parked far from the gym, his car shrouded in darkness as you clambered into the back seat. He pushed the seats forward, gently laying you down before pressing an urgent kiss to your lips. Your back was pressed against the car door but he helped you slide down, careful with your dress so as not to rip it. He kissed you again, one hand cupping your face while the other moved your skirt aside so he could kneel in between.

“God you look fucking sexy in this dress. I’m so excited to fuck you in it.”

He gently traced his fingers up your thighs, hooking his fingers in your thong before sliding it down. They were quickly placed in his pocket, sending you a wink as he began to unbuckle his pants. Once his cock was out you felt yourself getting aroused immediately, missing the way it stretched you oh so deliciously. He pumped himself a few times before leaning down, licking a long stripe along your folds. You moaned loudly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed him into your core.

“Relax princess, remember we’re crunched for time. I’m going to fuck you hard and you’re going to return to your friends like nothing happened.”

He spat onto the head of his cock before slapping it against your folds. He grabbed your left leg, lifting it up to allow him easier access. Sucking in a breath he began to push into you, a low groan escaping him as he filled you up completely.

“Oh Kai,” you moaned. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.”

He grabbed your hips and began pulling you against him. You settled on a slow rhythm, relishing in the feeling of how tight you felt with him inside of you. Your mouth fell open as you let out moans, his name mixed in with them as you kept on. After a few minutes he began to thrust into you, one of his hands grabbing the handle above the door. You felt the car shaking as he fucked into you harder, his eyes half lidded as he gazed down on you.

“I’m going to cum in you and you’re going to hold it in for the rest of the night like a good girl. Got it?”

You nodded furiously, clenching around him at the thought. He gave a few more sharp thrusts, his free hand rubbing your clit until you came around him. Kai followed immediately after, coming to a still with a growl of your name before collapsing onto you.

“We better hurry, angel. We don’t want to get caught.”

Kai told you to go first and you rushed to the bathroom. Your hair was a mess, and your makeup was slightly smudged from the intensity of the sex. You quickly cleaned yourself up before returning to your friends, who seemed relieved upon seeing you.

“Where have you been?!” Momo asked, worried.

“We were about to send the teachers to go look for you,” Kirishima said.

“Sorry, I guess the food didn’t sit well with me,” you lied nervously.

“Yeah, you look fucked up,” Bakugo frowned.

More like I just got fucked, you thought to yourself, biting your lip.

“Maybe I should take you home,” Kirishima offered.

“No, it’s Homecoming,” you began but he shook his head.

“I would be more worried if it was our Prom. Come on, let’s go.”

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