#seconde mère | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anastasiabowe · 5 months ago

Text

" WATASHI WA STAR! "

✩ɞ You're a fucking star. And they want a taste of it.

cw. MDNI, [SEPERATE] fan (except Nanami) (Toji, Nanami, Choso, Geto) with celeb reader, female implied reader, mild stalking, POC implied reader (specifically African/African American, but not secluded to such), semi-public sex, caught sex, piv, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected, creep tendencies, squirting. (Ps. Not too much on perspective shifts, I low-key was fighting demons trying to stay on 3rd person perspective but I gave up..sorry..)

wc. 6,776

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☆ backstage pass.

It wasn't every tour you offered such an amazing type of pass for your millions of fans. The back stage pass. You avoided it, you didn't like the idea of people looking at you from behind stage, getting in the way between songs, or even abusing the opportunity. But, when your team pointed out how much money you could make, how this could boost your morale, how could you refuse?

When it was announced that you were offering such a deal, the amount of people who made posts, videos, tweets about it, the amount of people that pleaded in your dm's about you saving them a ticket was overwhelming to say the least. It was mère weeks of the constant buzz about the special pass that was limited to 3 people. The seconds felt like minutes, the minutes felt like hours, the hours felt like days for all the fans who would be coming to your Japan show that was in a couple of weeks.

Launch day was terrifying. The second the tickets went for sale, Ticketmaster crashed from the amount of people trying to fight and pay their way to the special pass. After it was fixed, and the many apologies given from yourself and your team. The first 5 were sold. But so were the 200,000 open seats that very day. Was it record breaking? Nearly, did it break headlines? Definitely.

That was a few weeks ago. Now it's the day of your concert. You weren't nervous, you've done this for years, I mean how could you be? The thing you were slightly anxious about was the 3 fans who'd be backstage with you. They aren't only back stage, they get free food, a meet and greet with you, back stage seats to watch you perform, and they get to listen to your unreleased single before anyone else. What if they were creepy old men who want to hurt you? What if they had a bomb, or gun, and wanted to kill you? Those thoughts ran through your head as someone knocked on your door.

"Y/n? Backstage pass holders are here. It's time for you to greet them." Your manager called through the door*

"Alright, thank you." You shook the nerves and opened your dressing room, following your manager out to the empty foyer except for the single man standing there.

You approached the smiling man. He wore nothing but black, but you could see the small logo of your logo on the left side of his all black shirt, under his leather jacket. It was clearly your merch.

"Hello." You spoke to the man. You studied his face as you spoke. He wasn't half bad looking. He was taller than you, he had well defined muscles under your merch, and he had a scar on his lip. He smirked and looked down at you.

"Hey, princess." He said too casually. You frowned at the nickname, unsure how to feel about it. Your mind didn't like it, but the butterflies that filled your belly proved otherwise.

"Is it just you?" You asked, looking behind him. He chuckled and looked behind and around himself.

"Guess so," he smirked. "Guess it's just you and me backstage." You frowned even more. Damn, now you have to entertain him for the "meet & greet" portion, and after the concert for when he hears your unreleased song. It's going to be a long night.

"Okay, well, thank you for purchasing the backstage pass. You'd be the first to enjoy the luxury." You said plainly, trying to fight the fact the longer he looked at you, the more shy and flustered you felt. Okay, you were lying. This man is hot. You imagined things about him you shouldn't..like how his scar might feel on your-

"princess?" He waved his hand in front of your face, chuckling. "There she is." You blinked and looked up at him. God, why does he have to call you that? It makes you even more flustered and those damn butterflies don't know how to fucking die. Did he even say anything? All you heard or saw was those highly inappropriate and fanciful visions of him and you indulging in- activities.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" You asked, no longer slightly flustered, but very flustered. He had his phone out and looked at you

"Yeah, I said my name's Toji, can we take a photo for my son?" His tone was a bit snarky and I rolled my eyes. He had a kid? I mean, makes sense, who wouldn't want a man like that to get them preg- damnit what the hell is going on with you?!

"Oh, yeah, sure! Just a photo?"

"Yeah, unless you wanna do a video or something." He said nonchalantly. I shook my head. "no, it's okay." He only chuckled at that and positioned his phone to take a selfie. He wrapped his larger arm around your waist and pulled you close, heads touching. He brought his hand to your left tit and secretly placed his hand on there as if he was innocently trying to hold you close. He took a few more and you pulled away, trying to seem unbothered, but damn did that turn you on.

He put his phone away and smiled. He knew you were flustered. I mean it was obvious by how slightly red your face was, even under all that makeup, your ears were a little red. He could tell from the way your eyes flickered to his body as often, if not more often than he did to you. You bit your lip occasionally, and stared at his longer than necessary. He wanted you, and now he can tell you did too, but he wouldn't admit that. He continued to study your body language, and he then noticed, it was almost too discreet to see, but he knew what he saw. You rubbed your thighs together, and not because of how you stood. He knew he had you. The breath y/n was falling for him. If not that, somewhat into him.

"you okay princess? I hope my company isn't...bothering you." He smirked as he stared you down.

"H-Huh?" You stuttered like a damn fool. God, you're the y/n, why the hell is this nobody making you feel this way. Especially this quick! It's been what, maybe 20 minutes, and you're already thirsting over this stranger! Ugh! Get a fucking grip!

"You've been staring off into space, I'm starting to think all that money I paid to see your cute face was f'r nothing." He teased as he crossed his arms.

"No! No, it wasn't for nothing, I'm just a bit..nervous! Nervous for the show, you know?" You tried to lie. It was so fucking obvious you were lying. You've bragged to the world at how comfortable you were on stage and how when you performed for half a million, you were only nervous that you might slip or fall in the heels you wore, but not from the amount of people looking at you. He knew it was a bold face lie, and he found great joy in your flustered state.

"Hmm, is that so? I guess I see no lie in that." He said, emphasizing the lie part. Damnit, now you were aware of the fact he knew you were lying. He definitely knows you're into him. But you can't be! I mean all those dating rumors, fan theories, I mean hell, what if you lose your following!? You sighed. Fuck...why were you giving in so damn easily? Why was he making you feel like this..I mean all he has is a pretty face! And a pretty body..and voic- fuck!

"Uh..what time is it?" You asked, trying to change the subject from the roaring thoughts filling your mind. He laughed and grabbed your wrist with your watch on it. "Hmmm, I wonder princess. It's almost like you have a watch on your wrist." Of course he'd be sarcastic, of course! Just find every fucking opportunity to make you embarrassed, huh?

"O-Oh.. I knew that." You tried to play it off. It was only 5:30, and your concern starts at 7. You had maybe an hour left with him alone before you had to be brought back into your dressing room to get ready for your concert. He continued his grip on your wrist, and that's when he did it. He pulled you to him. Right in the middle of that empty foyer.

"you know princess, I paid a whopping $2000 for this backstage pass. It wasn't easy getting the pass. And it certainly wasn't easy making sure I was the only one you'd be seeing tonight, so I think I should make it worth the money, don't ya think?" He smirked as he said that inches from your face. "You got a room we can go to? So we can..chat a little?"

You knew exactly what he was insinuating. He had you flush against him. He was whispering lowly in that deep, seductive voice of his. He was luring you in, and it was working. You should be pulling away. His wandering hand down to your ass didn't go unnoticed, yet you didn't pull away. You only nodded and that's how you found yourself bent over on your vanity in your dressing room, hair wrapped manically in his thick fingers as he fucked you from behind, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him.

"yeahhh, that's what 'm fucking talking' about." He growled as he stared at your pretty tear stained face. All that damn expensive makeup you wore just for him to find a game in trying to take it off by tears alone was comical to him. Your legs felt like jelly, and the mean arch you were in was borderline painful, but he hit it so fucking good!

"ah-ah-ah!" You cried as his rough thrusts hit deeper and deeper. Your eyes rolled and crossed and molded into hers as you felt him in your gut. He planned this, that's what's so infuriating about this. He had the condoms ready, the fresh tattoo of your name, small, but visible right above his dick. He had all the right things to say and things to do to get you to the point of letting this- stranger fuck you!

"T-Toj-" he cut you off as he brought his lips to your ear in a mean smile as he stared at your tear-stricken face in the mirror. "Shhhh, princess. Just let me take care of you." He chuckled. His hand that was on your hip was now on your breast, fondling and pulling at the nipple. He moved his other hand from your hair to your neck so he could pull you up, and fuck you like that. God you were so hot. He just wanted you all to his self. For 5 fucking years he wanted you. Yeah, it was creepy, maybe just a little, but he never did anything diabolical! He put posters and pictures of you up in his son's room so he has an excuse to see your face. He always saved your photos, screenshot them from any platform you posted them on and put them into a hidden album. He never missed an album or single released from you. He wished he could travel the world with you to see you at every concert you had, but he wasn't a millionaire.

"Love this pussy, love this body, love this voice, and fuck I love you." Any person in their right mind would find his words creepy, but you weren't in the right mind, you didn't even think you had one at the moment. His words only brought you closer to your release. After a while, he let go of your tit and neck and pulled out. He picked you up like a doll and brought you to the couch in the dressing room. He sat down and had his arms around your legs in a full nelson. He inserted himself and began fucking you like that. He let out the hottest groan you've ever heard and you cried from pleasure in this new position.

"Fuck me!" You whined as he chuckled. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you, nothing but spit and teeth as he fucked up into you. He muttered things no woman would want to hear from a stranger.

"Makin' it real hard not to put a baby into you, just so everyone can know you're mine.. maybe take ya home with me, show you off to my kid..you know he'd love it, right? He wouldn't let you go, oh no he wouldn't. How's that sound? Knock you off this high horse your own and mommify you, domesticate you." No, no, no, he didn't mean that, he couldn't have. But of course, you didn't reply. You brain was mush. All these words did were turn you on to the point you came without letting him know.

"Naughty fuckin' girl. Did I say you could cum? So fucking greedy, don't know what to do with ya." He meanly said. He started rubbing your cunt, continuing to fuck you. "Since you like cumming so much, let's just see how much more you can, princess."

Stupid backstage pass.

NANAMI KENTO ☆ post premier.

Oh the actor life. Full of filming, premiers, releases, interviews, fame. You were currently one of the highest trending actresses of 2024. Next to Margot Robbie, Zendaya, hell even Anne Hathaway. You had movies, after movies, after shows coming out for a couple of years, and each a rising hit. You were currently at the red carpet of your newest movie. You wore a beautiful black dress that was tight and long. It had a draped back, that showed off your beautifully toned and clear back. The draped part hung low and perfect right above your ass, and your hair was just as pretty. It was a wig that looked stunning on you. It was long, and the curled layers added to the elegance. You were currently resting your hand on your co-star, Kento. He was new to the acting industry, but any movie you were in with any co-star made every actor seem like an A-list actor.

The paparazzi and journalists loved your chemistry the best. Kento was a fine man. Had good morals, spoke nothing but respect and admiration for you at interviews. He had high respect for you in person with the way he looked, spoke, and touched you. He kept his hands to himself, or at respectable places on your body like your arm, which many other co-stars didn't. If he saw your dress was slipping down too much, or the people taking a gazillion photos of you focused on your chest or lower region, he'd cover it up with his hand or body. Those actions didn't go unnoticed by anyone. Everyone praised and fawned over your relationship. It almost seemed like your relationship in the romance movie was...real.

You and Kento soon began to enter the elegant and high class theater, but before, you were pulled gently by him for an interview with a well known journalist for a well known magazine.

"Kento, y/n. Tell us about the dynamics in your movie before it's released to the public." The Australian man asked, more focused on Kento for the moment.

"Well, our characters are from 2 completely different worlds. Y/n's character is lively, fun, not as well off as my character, but she brings joy to the people around her, like in real life. She brings joy everywhere she goes. My character is more reserved, well off, and a bit more modest and stoic. Much more like myself, I prefer to stay out of the spotlight. I think it's a very common trope in most romance movies, but the plot and acting really make our movie stand out, and I'm excited for all to see." Kento said as he looked at me, the journalist and camera.

"And as for you, Y/n?"

You smiled and looked at Kento. "Just as he said, but I'd like to add that our characters may be completely different, but they fit together so well. I think we balanced each other out quite well, and as you will see in the movie when it comes out, the chemistry between them seems almost fanciful. But I think that's what true love should look like." You smiled up at Kento, and the journalist couldn't even tell if you were actually talking about the characters, or yourselves. He smiled, and nodded.

"Well, we're excited to watch your movie when it comes out." You and Kento nodded as well, and waved as you both began to head into the theater. You kept your hands around his arm as you both walked and he leaned down and kissed your exposed shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he looked at your face. You looked up at him and nodded.

"yes, I'm excited to watch our movie." You softly laughed as you both and many others including other co-stars and the bits team headed into the theater. You saw a few other celebrity friends of yours, and you waved to them, but you never left Kento's side. You both found your seats and sat down. This might be a late to say, but you and Kento were secretly dating. I mean, that type of chemistry in your movie and person wasn't just good friends, it was the chemistry of lovers. Everyone you knew, knew you and Kento were dating, and they all were respectful and quiet about it. I mean it was almost obvious that you both were dating though. He constantly has his hands on you, even though they could be mistaken for a co-star being kind to their other co-stars, you knew he was just being slightly possessive. He kissed your shoulder often, and when paparazzi or journalists/interviewers were out of sight, his hand wandered to your exposed lower back.

You both weren't hiding your relationship, but you also weren't super open about it because it was your relationship. And you wanted it to be strictly your guys', not the world's.

"I'm nervous about the adult scene." He muttered honestly. You laughed and placed your hand on his. He was so cute, it was hard to believe he'd, such a domestic and masculine man could be so cute. You squeezed his hand and reassured him. "Especially since we know what really went down."

You blushed and nodded. Even though the adult scene was fake, you both were into it, and in the real way. Kento did ask once if the padding they wore was necessary, and the body suit you had to wear to keep the movie 17+ and not rated R. They gave you the freedom to do what you pleased in the general sense of 'making love' and not anything more.

"I think it'll be a good trip down memory lane." You smiled. The director of the movie came on the stage in front of the screen, and gave a synopsis and introduction to the movie. He thanked us all and the movie began. Throughout the movie, many of us actors laughed and smiled about the scenes we were in. Ken often smiled and quickly told me about what he did or felt, or reminded me of the bloopers. I smiled and laughed quietly at his remarks. The adult scene came and passed, and you smiled through it all. Soon the movie came to an end and the theater erupted in claps. You and Ken had rehearsed this moment of where after the movie you'd each give your own person thank you or speech. We both got up and he helped me carefully onto the stage and began speaking.

"thank you all who showed up, watched, and enjoyed the movie. Me, Rayna, our co-star and movie team are so thankful for the opportunity to fill this movie. We hope you all enjoyed it, and will continue to." He continued in thanking individuals for a specific thing and I remained silent and had my hand on his lower back as spoke. He then clapped with everyone else when he was done, and looked at you as you began to speak. Of course, you were starting to tear up like you did with every premier. It wasn't an annoyance, and everyone knew they were tears from how proud you were of everyone and how you always have some emotional tie to the movie or show you filmed. This one was different though, because you found a lover through it. For the first time.

"I just want to thank Ken. I mean, I've done movies like his for years, and I've never felt this way for a co-star. He is brilliant, kind, hardworking, and caring, and I wouldn't wish for someone better. This is his first movie, believe it or not, and I'm so proud of him. I'm proud of everyone, but I'm proud of him." Everyone clapped and you laughed as he pulled you into a hug. You cried into the hug and everyone clapped and cheered.

After the premier, you and Kento were in the car on your way back to your house. He wanted to celebrate with you for the movie. There were already good remarks from critics, and the movie is already trending without even being out. You reached your mansion, and entered the cold but warm place. You got out of your dress and into more comfortable clothes. Ken as well.

You both sat on your couch and enjoyed some wine and champagne. You sat there in his shirt and panties. He in a shirt and his dress pants from the evening. You smiled as you both sat there in comfortable silence.

"I'm so proud of you, love." He finally said. His eyes were staring ahead as he took a sip from his glass. "So damn proud of you." He then looked at you and smiled. You smiled back.

"I'm so proud of you. You made this my favorite movie I've ever filmed."

"And you made my first movie the best movie I've ever filmed." He said warmly, setting his glass down, and taking yours from your hand, setting it down. He pulled you into his lap, straddling him, and wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face into your neck and sighed contently. You threaded your fingers in his blonde locks and rested your head on his.

He softly moaned to the feeling of your fingers in his hair, and gently kissed your chest over the shirt. You smiled, and settled further into his lap. He groaned slightly and gripped your hips. "Don't move like that, love, you know it was hard enough to keep myself under control when you were in that dress.

"We're alone now, what's there to hold back?" You smiled mischievously and slowly began to grind on him. He groaned again, and looked up at you, once neat and smooth hair, now messy and fluffy. His eyes bore into yours as he groaned again. You looked down at him and bit your lip with a smile. "What's wrong, ken?" You asked innocently.

He chuckled and shook his head, pulling you down on his clothed cock harder. "You know, y/n, that adult scene gave me ideas." He muttered as he ran his hands over your waist. "How it must feel to just make love..all night." You blushed at his words.

"Y-Yeah?" You stuttered as your face felt warm.

"yeah. I think we should try it again but for real this time." He smirked. "How's that sound, love?"

You felt impossibly warmer. You guys never 'made love' quote on quote. You didn't fuck either.. you guys barely made it past kissing and dry humping, so now he wants to make love. I mean, who were you to refuse.

"I would like that, ken..a lot." You smiled. He smiled back and nodded. He then began to kiss your neck gently, pressing warm but cold and wet kisses to your neck. His hands slipped under his shirt (that you wore) and caressed your soft body. You moved your head to give him more access, and you softly moaned. He gently pulled the shirt over your head, exposing your body, now only in the black panties you chose to wear. He marveled at your body, eyes never leaving your chest. He smiled, and moved his kisses from your neck, to your collarbone and below. He took his time with you. He wanted you to feel his love for you, every single drop. His kisses were deliberate and targeted. His kisses made your tummy heat up, and thighs wanting to close, but his legs which you were sitting on prevented such.

"K-Ken-..more please.." you muttered as your hands gripped his hair tighter. He nodded and gently bit your chest. "As you wish love." He had his hands on your hips as he laid your nearly naked body onto the couch. He slipped off his shirt, and undid his pants, sliding them down. "Tell me what you want, love."

No, no, no.. not this, please. You internally begged. You hated when he did this, you just wanted him to touch you where it hurt, where it begged for him. "Kennn!" You whined. He knew what he was doing! He smirked. That damn smirk that makes you melt and fold in ways no other man has ever gotten you to do. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your lips. "I'm sorry baby, you know how I am. Tell me what you want, and you'll get it, I promise." He smiled as he almost babied you, which you really didn't mind.

"Mmm, touch me..down there.." you muttered, now feeling shy. He smiled and brought his hands to your lower stomach. "Here?" He smiled. You whined and he chuckled. "You gotta be a little more specific love, there's a lot "down there"."

You huffed and wrapped your legs around his waist. "Kennn! You know where!" He tried to act like he didn't and you groaned. "I wanna feel you in me!" He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "Better." He then hooked his fingers into the panties, and pulled them up your legs, you immediately unlocking them from his waist so he could pull them off. He pulled off his boxers as well, his angry tip slapping against his stomach. You looked down at his cock, it was so pretty. You've only seen it once before, but not for something like this. He reached into his wallet which was in his pants pocket and pulled out a condom.

"No." You sat up and grabbed the condom, throwing it away from you both. He looked at you with furrowed brows. "Honey?" He asked confused why you did that. You now felt sheepish but you stayed firm. "I-I want you inside.. I wanna feel all of you."

"Are you sure?" He asked carefully. He was hoping you were sure of what you were implying. He had no problem with it, but it could lead to a longer term issue. A child. You nodded and locked your legs around his waist again. "I'm sure, now please put it in..I just wanna feel you, that's all, please." He couldn't say no to that cute face. Your cute body, he just couldn't. So he lined himself up, and remained hovering over you.

"Take some deep breaths, love." He whispered as he slowly inserted his thick tip. You gasped and held onto him, arms wrapped around his neck and back, nails scratching. He paused and waited till you calmed down before he slowly inserted himself. He was so thick, and long, and God did it feel glorious. When you gave him the okay, it was like a whole new world was opened. You weren't new to sex, you've had a few hookups throughout the years, but they were never this intimate, this intense. Kento cared about you and your well-being over his own pleasure, and to be honest, you think he finds pleasure in your well-being! He grunted as his pace increased and each grunt sent another deep pang of butterflies into your tummy. You moaned and whimpered into his ear at how good he felt. It was so overwhelming that a tear slid down your cheek. No words were said throughout this moment. He kissed your tears and lips. He kissed your nose and cheeks. He loved you, but he wouldn't say it until you did. He didn't wanna scare you off.

He hit so deep, and the mixture of pleasure, and security you felt made it 10x better. "K-Ken- fuck, it's so good, it's so, so, good, please don't stop." You cried as he continued his pace, increasing the speed of it slightly. He felt himself letting go, but he couldn't do it before you, he couldn't.

"sweetheart, you-fuck, you close?" He groaned as he felt himself too close. You whined and nodded. He tapped his shoulder repeatedly as you came and that's all it took for him to come inside. He captured your lips in a kiss as he fucked you both through it. It was too good, too fucking good, and you both felt it. He pulled away slightly to catch his breath and he chuckled.

"I'm hard again."

CHOSO KAMO ☆ cute stalker.

There you were. Walking through all those paparazzi wannabe's. They wish you looked at them like you did him. They wished you got on your knees for them like you did him. They wanted to be him so bad, your lover. Except, you didn't even know who he was. You never met him, seen him, touched him. It was all in his head. Choso wasn't crazy, he swears he's not. He just likes every photo, video, interview you were in, your account or not. He would constantly buy new phones from himself constantly breaking them from throwing them from seeing you with another man. He wanted you all to his self.

He wasn't crazy, he swears he isn't. He just wants the love of his life all to himself, that's all. I mean how could he not, you were beautiful, and you always look at him, every time you follow him you see him, you smile and wave at him. No you didn't. He follows you and whatever way you look and he happens to be secretly stalking you from, he thinks that's you looking at him. But, you have met, once. At your meet and greet. He was so excited to see you, and he did, but he let something slip out that got him kicked out. He said he'd kill for you. He was dead serious, but he didn't mean he'd ACTUALLY kill FOR YOU! He just meant he'd protect you. But there's been too many cases of celebrities being killed by crazy fans who have the "if I can't have you, no one will" mentality. But he'd never kill you, he wants you for real and not in the afterlife.

So here he was, deliberately walking towards you, pushing past paparazzi, and straight to you. He was nervous. The bouquet in his hands, the chocolate in his other. The large teddy bear with your name on its tummy squeezed tight to his chest, he was ready. But just as he was about to reach you, he was yanked away by a security guard. The security guard threw him into the wall yelling at him to step away. He cried out, and you widened your eyes at the contact. You pushed the security guard away and rushed to him despite the other security stopping you.

"Are you okay?! Why the hell did you do that!?" You asked Chris, and yelled at the security. The security didn't look sorry for hurting Choso, but a bit startled at your yelling. You gently brought your hand to the back of his head which was bleeding from the impact, and frowned. You gathered the flowers that thankfully stayed together, the chocolate, and bear and handed it to him. "I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

He didn't take the gifts and nodded. "Those are for you..and I'm okay.." he was fighting tears, but not from pain, from you being so close to him. His dream girl. You smiled at his words on how those gifts were for you. You looked at the bear and clutched it to your pretty chest, oh the chest that he'd bury his face in for decades. He stared at your pretty face as you talked to him. You were inviting him to eat with you, but all he heard was "bla bla bla, I love you, bla bla bla." He'd probably explode if his head wasn't elsewhere at your invite. You noticed his dazed expression and softly laughed, tapping his cheek.

"hello?" He shook himself out of his fantasy and looked at you when you got his attention. "Do you want to have lunch with me? To apologize for what my security did?" Did he hear you right?! The paparazzi was continuously snapping photos of them, but he didn't care. He nodded and smiled, with your help, stood up. You were slightly shorter than him, and he couldn't help but find you adorable as you held his hand and pulled him into the restaurant you were going to dine in. It was a celebrity restaurant meant for no flash photography or paparazzi in general. You got a table and sat across from him, your security remained at the table next to you.

"I'm really sorry about that, your head is bleeding.." I frowned when I looked at my hand which touched his head a bit ago. He waved you off, too focused on your casual beauty. He knew you weren't wearing makeup, and how cute you looked without it. You let him order whatever he wanted, and you smiled and chatted with him. Each sentence, word, syllable that came out of your mouth made him even more obsessed with you. All those months of following you did not go in vain. It was all worth it. This would be a life lesson to you all who read this, good things comes to those who wait.

You found yourself finding the man kind of..cute? He had this cute purple hue under his eyes, and his 2 spikey buns were adorable. He smiled and was attentive to you, and you couldn't help but enjoy his company. You must have enjoyed it too much, because here you were, in the bathroom of that restaurant sucking him off.

"Aha, y-y/n.." he moaned your name as you licked and sucked his cock. It was so good, so yummy. You enjoyed the feeling of it laying heavy in your mouth. He thought he was dreaming, the delusion finally winning, but no, here he was getting head from his favorite actress. You brought your tits to his cock, and began pushing them together and squeezing his cock with them. He didn't know what to do with his hands. Does he put them on the sink, or does he put them in your hair? You smiled up at him so devilishly that he chose the latter. You stuck your tongue out, and licked his tip with every up and down you made your tits go. Almost like a premature teen, he came over your tits and onto your tongue, chin, collarbone. You continued to stroke him, and licked up his mess.

"Mm, so pretty."

GETO SUGURU ☆ chauffeur.

You've gone through driver after driver, but they all weren't like Geto. He was your personal driver, went everywhere you did. He knew the routes you liked, he knew how to keep you entertained. He understood you when you complained to him. He was always on time to pick you up and drop you off. He knew how you liked the car you were in, the right temperature, whether you wanted the windows down or not, he also knew what Spotify playlist you'd be into, which was usually your songs. But also, he knew he was in love with you.

He always remained respectful of you, cheeky yes, but never crude or creepy. He complimented you, helped you into the car and out, always saying something about you being a "princess". He loved driving for you. He loved that you loved him driving for you. He knew he was a shoulder for you to cry on, and that's why you usually always confided in him, no matter how long the drive. You also sit in the front more often than not. Most people don't do that, but he makes you feel welcome in the front, and you like sitting in the front.

You soon found yourself way too comfortable with him. He practically was your boyfriend without the touching and title. You told him about your period, your cravings, your needs, desires, wants. You've talked about your body and how you love it or hate it. You complained to him about sexual frustration. It wasn't like you had to tell him any of that, you certainly didn't. You had many friends who you could tell that too instead, but there was something about him that was so inviting. He's also confided in you too. He talked to you about this girl he liked and how he wanted her. He talked to you about his hair and how he's happy you like it long. He's let you even do his hair in long traffic stops. You guys were like lovers without being official.

But you'd be a damn fool to say he wasn't attractive. You found yourself almost excited when he honked the horn every time he waited for you outside, or how upset you'd be when he didn't pick you up and someone else did instead. You found yourself staring at him and imagining how it'd feel for you to grip his hair as he hugged you, or did other activities. You wondered if he would be into hair pulling, or if he'd be into other things. It was inappropriate, it was weird, and it definitely wasn't the cause to the fact you're riding him in the backseat of your limo.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Geto repeated as you hopped on his dick. You tugged his hair as you rolled your hips and slid up and down his lengthy cock. He captured your left tit into his mouth as his hands remained firm on your lower ribs. You moaned as your legs burned, but the feeling of his cock inside you overpowered all your senses and you prevailed. You never lent up as he has came many times, you just as many. He was completely pussy drunk off of you. Soon enough, he couldn't handle it anymore and came again. You moaned and giggled as he came inside you, you enjoyed the feeling, and your body shivered at it. You continued to grind down fervently. He let out the hottest whimpers and groans as you fucked him dry. You soon came and slowed down to a stop. He held your front to his tightly as he shook from how much he came.

"W-want to taste you.." he shamelessly admitted, pulling you gently off of him, and laid you in the gap between the driver and passenger seats so he could eat you out. He let out a shaky breath as he looked at your soppy, creamy cunt, mixed with his and your juices. He pressed his nose and lips to your cunt and began gently sucking and licking you clean. His tongue slapped up every juice from you. You moaned and your legs shook at the overstimulation. He didn't even realize how good you tasted till he found himself panting as he continued to desperately eat you out. You let out a scream in pleasure and pulled his hair.

"G-Getooo! T-too much~♡!" He groaned and continued to eat you out. He inserted his middle and ring finger and began fucking you with them. You squealed and he smiled. You tried to push his head away, legs kicking and shaking as you felt your release again.

"S-Sugu-ahhh!" You shook as you came again, your juices sprayed against his face and he let out the hardest groan, cumming himself simply from eating you out. He slowly licked you clean and pulled away, hair a bit wet from you squirting.

"First time you've given me a ride." He chuckled, kissing your thighs.

"it definitely won't be the last."

3K notes · View notes

starkwlkr · 2 years ago

Text

banned | charles leclerc

Charles and Y/N were in bed watching some netflix documentary. It was a Saturday morning, the couple didn't have any plans so they decided to stay in bed for an extra hour. Ruby was in her room playing with her dolls, but as time went on, she walked into her parent's room, still in her pajamas, and told them she had gotten bored of her barbies.

"Papa, can I play a game on your phone?" Ruby asked, climbing onto the bed and laying ontop of Charles.

"What happened to your iPad?" Charles questioned.

"Its with grand-mère, I forgot it." Ruby frowned.

"Okay, but not for too long." Charles sighed and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. "If someone calls, bring it to me, okay?"

Ruby nodded and climbed off. Her little feet took her to the living room. She sat on the couch and tried to find the game Charles had installed for her to play. Instead of clicking on the game, a certain colorful app caught her eye. She clicked on the Instagram app and the first thing she saw on Charles' feed was a picture of Y/N that she had posted recently. Her chubby fingers clicked on the heart then clicked on the comments. She knew how to spell since Y/N and Charles were teaching her so she slowly typed out a comment.

charles_leclerc MOMMY

seconds later, hundreds of notifications came flooding in.

f1lucyyy CHARLES WHAT

forzacharles SAME CHARLES

gasly10pierre he's so real for that

back in Charles and Y/N bedroom, Charles was too focused on giving his wife her morning kisses. They had completely forgotten about the documentary that was playing on the tv. Y/N was also too busy to even notice the notifications going off from her phone.

Ruby was having too much fun with her dad's phone. She kept liking photos and even took some up close photos of her face with funny filters. That's when she saw the LIVE option. Ruby, being the curious girl she is, clicked on LIVE and wondered what it was doing.

charles_leclerc started a live video

The screen showed her face, but nothing was happening. She was extremely confused. Then the comments started popping up.

schumacherlegacy BABY LECLERC

vettel.jpg BABY LECLERC WHATS YOUR DAD'S CREDIT CARD NUMBER

f1weekly yooo house tour

f1paddockgirlies omg someone screen record this iconic moment

"What's a credit card?" Ruby asked as if someone was going to tell her. She thought it was recording so an idea popped up in her head. She raced to her room with Charles' phone in hand and grabbed her favorite barbies. As she ran back, Charles called her name, unaware that his phone was capturing everything.

"Ruby! Slow down, I don't want you to fall." Charles called out.

al0nz04 OMG HER NAME IS RUBY

norriswag RUBY OMG WE FINALLY KNOW HER NAME

leclercxl/n i feel like i shouldn't be watching this 😭 she probably doesn't even know what's going on

y/nscloset guys don't screen record!! she's a child, we shouldn't be spreading information about her without y/n or charles knowing

"Sorry, papa." Ruby apologized.

"Its okay, baby. Are you hungry?" Y/N asked her daughter.

"No," Ruby quickly said and ran back to the living room.

"Ruby Jules!"

f1gossip omg they named her after jules 😭

wagstyle ok charles come get ur child before she leaks your address

Ruby positioned the phone against her mom's favorite candle and showed the camera a barbie that her uncle Lorenzo had gotten her.

"I like this one. She has pretty hair and my uncle Enzo got it for me." She brought the barbie extremely close to the camera.

leclercfamily she's in her vlog era

Ruby then set the barbie down and grabbed her favorite american girl doll that Charles got for her. "Papa got me this one. She has purple hair and has a crown, see?" Ruby showed the camera yet again. "I have more. And I have things for her hair." This time she ran to her playroom where most of her dolls were located. Instead of taking the phone with her, she left it propped up against the candle.

This game the users a clear view of the Leclerc family home, well some of it.

maxsupermax they really have a giant ass piano in their living room.

buttonvettel IS THAT THE MONZA TROPHY JUST SITTING BY THE DOOR

Ruby came back with all her american girl doll accessories. They were in the classic american girl red bag, but Ruby decided to dump it all on the floor.

"Ruby! What are you doing?" Y/N called out as Charles kissed her neck.

"Playing." Ruby said casually.

"Charles, get up. This girl might be writing on the walls." Y/N said, but Charles wouldn't get off of her.

"She's playing on my phone, she's okay."

"Still, let me get up. My amazon package gets delivered today. Get up, Perceval!" Y/N pinched his side, causing him to groan in pain and finally get off his wife.

Charles dramatically rolled onto his side. "It hurts. It hurts more when you don't have a shirt on."

"You're alive, dear husband." Y/N rolled her eyes and got up from the bed. She put on her slippers, not bothering to put on a proper shirt so she walked to the front door in her matching black silk shorts and lace top. She failed to notice her daughter on Instagram live.

y/nisamilf Y/N TURN AROUND

ricciardofiles RUBY GET UR MOM

verstappenxpiquet does she even know how to read?

"I know how to read." Ruby said to the camera.

Once Y/N opened the door, she heard her daughter say something. "What did you say, baby?" She said, still not looking in Ruby's direction as she retrieved her package from the front door.

"I said i know how to read." Ruby replied.

"Yeah, you do. You're a smart girl." Y/N nodded and went to her office that was right next to Ruby's play room.

Ruby continued showing the camera her toys.

leclercstype american girl haul slay

formulahoe STOP THIS IS GOING ON FOR TOO LONG

paddockbitches ruby is MY world champion

Then Charles finally came into the frame. He was shirtless so all the comments went by too fast for Ruby to read. Like Y/N, he didn't notice Ruby trying to read comments on the phone.

As Charles was about to ask Ruby what she wanted for breakfast, Y/N's phone started to ring. Charles quickly made his way back to the shared bedroom. He looked at the phone screen and saw that his brother Arthur was the one calling. He answered the call.

"Hey, good morning-"

"Get your phone! Ruby is on Instagram live!" Arthur said.

"What?"

"She's live, Charles!"

Charles quickly ran to the living room to find Ruby showing the camera a framed photo of Charles and Y/N's wedding. "Ruby, give me the phone!" Charles raised his voice, making Y/N come out of her office wondering what was going on.

"I was showing the pretty picture!"

Y/N ran to Ruby and saw that she was showing the viewers her wedding picture. "Baby, give papa his phone back."

"Okay. The game was boring." Ruby handed Charles his phone back and went to her playroom.

Charles quickly ended the live and put his phone on the coffee table. "She's never playing on my phone ever again."

"Who told you she was on Instagram?" Y/N asked.

"Arthur. He called you, I answered. He probably got a notification that ruby went live." Charles sighed. "Well, I think everyone knows her name by now."

"Oh my god, wait give me my phone. I have your post notifications on." Y/N gasped.

Charles handed her her phone. He watched as she scrolled through all the Instagram notifications. She then held the phone out for him to see. "She used your account to comment on my picture. Look what she said."

Charles laughed at the comment. "Well she's not wrong. The fans did call you a milf."

"Imagine the ones that missed Ruby's live, they're going to see this comment and think that you have some weird kink. Good luck explaining that, Perceval." Y/N kissed Charles' cheek and went to Ruby's playroom.

"From now on, Ruby is on a phone ban!"

ruby is so chaotic i love her, she's my fav leclerc fr

#charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 one shot #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc #ferrari f1 #formula 1 #cl16 x reader #baby leclerc series

6K notes · View notes

meirimerens · 13 days ago

Note

You probably have already made a post about this (in which case I apologize for bothering you) however I really love how you render and color! Do you have any tips?

Hiiii so I probably indeed already answered something like that but it’s probably time for an #update + realized i can put pictures and it would probably help actually. Slay okay.

THE BASICS: have brushes you like. I have my faves, they’re in my #brushes tag (click below), you might also see them on the screen of my paintings in wip lol. Typically i thicken them up for rendering AND, now this is integral to my liking of rendering these days + the look: COLOR JITTERING. In procreate that’s tap brush -> color dynamics and i adjust the stamp & stroke jitter in the « hue » category. I have my fave brushes quadruplicated as thicker No Hue, 3% color jitter, 5%, 13% depending on the desired look. What this does is give intrinsic interest, variation and depth to your colors, and that way you can have more fun when colorpicking. This will come back again later.

STEP 1: a lineart you like. Doesn’t have to be clean tbh some of my fave linearts from current works were quite messy. ALWAYS colored.

STEP 2: on a layer underneath the lineart, put down flat colors. See what % of color jittering brings you the most #joy. I will do flat colors or i will sometimes already define some areas of light and shadows.

^ you can see the subtle color jitter in the « white » of the shirt and the green of that first image. Second is to show the already defined areas; if i know i want a different hue on here. something else for some pizzazz: tint a color with an adjacent one. not really visible in these screenshots but in matador, at some point, i added an orange tint to burakh's sleeve, the one closest to the red cape.

STEP 3: the shadows. On the same layer as above (you can duplicate it before this so you can always come back to it later if you need to redo), put down your shadows; the trick: COLORPICK FROM A PIXEL WHERE THE COLOR OF YOUR LINEART AND THE COLOR OF YOUR FLATS INTERSECT. You might have to recolor your lineart (use the « alpha lock » feature of your layer or something of the sorts) until you’re satisfied; i typically redden it in the face and hands.

STEP 4: put down the highlight. I typically do highlights the complimentary color as the shadow: if shadow bluer, the highlight is redder (-> pinker), etc.

STEP 5: now this is the scary part. Before proceeding if you’re #scared, group your lineart and colors, duplicate the group and merge one of them so you can always come back to them unmerged. MERGE YOUR LAYERS. You heard me. Merge lineart and color. From then on…

STEP 6: render. Render, render… PATIENCE… est mère de sûreté bien sûr. Here’s my secret: I NEVER BLEND. I ALWAYS COLORPICK. COLORPICK where two colors meet and you’ll have the perfect transition color.

tip: always have an all-black layer set to color mode above all layers that you can toggle on and off to check your values.

This is more of a fun thing i like to do even if i haven’t done it often: use some hints of a geometric brush to add interest when using an « organic » brush (or vice-versa, I’d guess, but i rarely render with geometric brushes). Exemples again:

And well Das Preddy Much It… Your Turn Now….. and because i realize a short demonstration is better than a long speech, have a speepvideo of the two pieces I’ve used as exemples one after the other (matador first to 44 seconds in, moschophoros second). the very beginnings are cut because we’re focusing on the above steps.

Your turn……. To play.

#ring ring (answers)#anonymous #faq #<- we'll guess...#brushes #<- the ones i use in there #rendering #tutorials #<- eeeeeh........

62 notes · View notes

uzumaki-rebellion · 1 month ago

Text

youtube

"I've got a Big Chief, Big Chief, Big Chief of the Nation

The wild, wild creation

He won't bow down

Down on the ground

Oh how I love to hear him call Indian Red"

Voices of a Nation – "Indian Red"

The Backstreet Bar used to be the spot Celeste's parents went to when they were young and lively in the nineties and before they started pumping out kids left and right. Near the French Market off Esplanade in the sixth ward, it became a shrine and the iconic hub for rhythm and blues.

All things Black and New Orleans culture-wise sprang from that bar in their neighborhood. When the owner Etienne King passed away, his widow Lesli King took over. The levees broke in 2005 and nearly washed away the people and history that gave the city its culture and flavor. But the people persevered until Lesli passed during Mardi Gras of 2010. Celeste remembered 2010 well because it was the first year she started sewing with her granddaddy Big Chief Harris Profitt of the Wild Treme Mardi Gras Indians.

Thirteen and full of spitfire energy and overzealous gumption, Celeste spent all year beading and sewing using her granddaddy's jeweler's loupe magnifier over her right eye. The intricate beadwork and patches she sewed and assembled to make her first Indian suit was a proud moment, not only for Celeste, but for that side of her family who ran up and down the streets hunting down other tribes to battle in verbal dexterity and showing off how pretty they looked in their Mardi Gras finery.

Her suit was a patchwork of dark purple, lavender, and white micro beads, feathers, and sequins. She showed the fuck out among her kin and her relatives started calling her by the nickname Duchess because she strutted so high and mighty in front of granddaddy's house while the neighbors waited for their Big Chief to come outside on a fine Mardi Gras morning to represent their downtown neighborhood in his fabulous three-dimensional African-inspired suit. No one in Treme ever called her grandfather by his first name. It was always "Big Chief", "Chief", or "Chief Profitt".

Proud to be a Wild Treme Indian, Celeste sewed a new suit every year as was custom. It was expensive, time-consuming, and a true labor of love. Her grandmother had worked as a seamstress for a dress shop and her grandfather was a welder like his father before him, and she absorbed those technical skills of sewing and shaping metal under their tutelage to transform Black Mardi Gras Indian regalia into wearable art. Sadly, she lost interest in making suits by the time she hit twenty-four and began designing the fancy second line parasols, fans, and baskets for several social aid and pleasure clubs instead. That extra source of income helped carry her for over four years. Sometimes on annual Super Sundays she'd re-purpose some old suits to play in with other Mardi Gras Indian tribes that came from all over the city to commune and show off in A.L. Davis Park. It made Big Chief happy to see her on those occasions, although he wanted his youngest grandchild to sew new suits again.

The test of a true Indian was to pour your passion and creativity into needle and thread to kill 'em dead with a new suit annually. Tribes frowned on recycling an old suit and considered it lazy work to don a suit people already witnessed you in. People came out looking for craftsmanship, originality, and style—lagniappe—a little something extra each year. She poured her creative flair into the overly decorated accessories for other people and made a nice coin doing it.

After Lesli died, Grand-mère, along with a cadre of old-timers, lamented that the history of their hood would crumble if the Backstreet Bar died. Grand-mère had been one of dozens of foster-children Lesli looked after over the years, giving some jobs working at the neighborhood bar. Eventually, Grand-mère and Big Chief took over the property instead of retiring when Celeste turned eighteen. It was the bar Celeste headed toward for Mardi Gras Indian practice with her family and tribe.

She didn't want to drive through downtown, but she became the designated driver for three of her besties. Lyfts and Ubers raised their prices during the holiday season and no one wanted to pay outlandish fees when they could look cute in her brand new muscle car. Cruising through the Garden District, she picked up two of her friends and headed down to the French Quarter. They didn't have to stop for food because Grand-mère provided free red beans and rice, fried chicken, and sometimes boiled crawfish and red rice at the bar. She hoped they had a nice spread tonight because her stomach growled and she needed heavy food to soak up the liquor she planned to consume.

Her ex boyfriend committed a flagrant foul that weekend by jumping the gun and telling everyone they had broken up before she was ready. She suspected he wanted to bring out his new woman openly so no one would beat his behind once she blabbed that he'd been running around on her. Truth be told, she was tired of his boring ass anyway, but the general principal of the matter was she wanted to be the first to bail and get her lick back during carnival. Now if she turnt up and shook ass extra hard, people would say she was overcompensating for getting dumped.

"Duchess, turn right…slow down…there's a spot about to open up."

"Where?" Celeste said to her friend Mercy, who sat shotgun.

Mercy pointed to the flashing hazard lights of a taxi. Celeste zipped into the tight spot and breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing worse than searching for parking anywhere near the Quarter or within a one-mile radius in any direction during the carnival season. Mercy checked her smartphone.

"She's on her way out," Mercy said.

Celeste checked her face in the mirror. Although it was only a practice at the bar, she still wanted to look cute. Her giant Medusa locs were pulled back with a leather hair tie high on her head, and her eyeliner and ruby lip stick gave enough sexy unbothered vibes that made her feel confident. She had her girls, a stellar whip that she worked hard for, and time with her tribe to look forward to. Lately, it seemed like carnival festivities were the only way her family got together en mass. Carnival or funerals.

Their friend Joyce hustled out of a popular bakery in the Quarter carrying a box of the popular King Cake, a ring-shaped, hand-braided cinnamon infused dessert. The plastic covering on top showed off the tri-colored icing of gold, purple, and green.

"Hey, girl!" Celeste said as Joyce climbed in the back of the Charger. She gave air kisses to Nae Nae in the back.

"Whew! It's been crazy in there! Some people were mad they ran out of King Cakes that weren't pre-ordered. I am ready to cut up!" Joyce enthused.

Celeste checked her driver's side mirror and pulled out, heading around the narrow block. Clogged streets packed in the tourists, locals, and plenty of cops. She parked four blocks away from the Backstreet Bar and they all climbed out feeling giddy. Normally, Big Chief didn't allow outsiders or non-tribal members to attend Indian practice. But he made an exception that year to help her get over feelings about her ex. Freddie made being in Nawlins central intolerable. He knew everyone in her extended family because he was a police officer who had connections to a political family with high ambitions for him down the road. After their unceremonious break up, she moved into a cute little over-priced cottage far from him, and took an extra part-time job at a chicken processing plant with a goal of saving enough money to head out to California for an extended visit. Celeste had relatives in L.A. and could stay with them for a vacation. Getting away from the Big Easy would help build up a new positive lease on life. Or maybe she'd take a five-day cruise to Mexico. Anywhere was good, just as long as she could escape Freddie and go to a new world for a minute.

That man had wasted her time and love. She wanted to buy a large home and get married. Start a family. Months ago, she gave him an ultimatum that their relationship needed forward momentum and her finger needed a ring by New Year's Day. Cheating was his way of humbling her, and ironically, it brought her great relief. He made life feel stagnant and dull, proving unequivocally that he wasn't The One. She just didn't have the guts to leave first before having something lined up on the horizon.

A crowd of patrons gathered outside a corner in front of the Backstreet Bar, catching the pitiful breeze that attempted to blow through the escalating muggy heat while listening to the thumping music from inside. Celeste glanced at the exterior of the bar painted with colorful images of their tribe, Creole food, and two giant beer mugs clinking together. The name of the bar was graffiti painted above the front door that stood wide open. A "Closed Until 9 P.M." sign taped to the wall kept non-tribal members out for the time being, and a blank-faced bouncer, David, stood vigil on a metal stool.

"Hey David!" Celeste said.

"Duchess!"

David hopped off the stool and gave Celeste a big belly hug because his stomach lopped over his belt.

"I brought my friends to watch with Big Chief's permission. They won't be no trouble," she said.

David looked over the women, his beady eyes taking a liking to Joyce's plump frame.

"Alright now, go get y'all a plate before the good eatin' is all gone," David said to the group. His eyes stayed on Joyce the entire time.

Inside, the raucous shouts of men showered them with the energy of the packed bar and sucked them right into the fold. Family and tribal members were already cutting up, clapping and smacking tambourines in time to an internal beat that swelled throughout the room.

On a small stage across from the bar, a second line brass band made up of young men in their twenties carried the foundational rhythm the others followed. The musical frenzy, sweaty faces, and rocking bodies enveloped Celeste in the comforts of culture. Trumpets, a trombone, and a good faith tuba blasted the familiar jazzy sounds that New Orleans was famous for. Celeste rocked her shoulders, shuffled her feet with slick footwork, and sang the old-time Indian songs.

Joyce placed the King Cake on an open table near Grand-mère who stood regally watching the action. She hugged each one of them. Celeste eyed her father drumming on stage and glanced toward her mother, who mixed drinks at the bar.

It was good to be in the Treme.

She greeted familiar faces and asked "Who dat?" about folks she didn't recognize. Inundated with love and affection, Celeste settled in, bringing a playful zeal to her dancing. Her mother handed her a tambourine at the bar, and she hopped onto the dance floor behind her grandfather and tapped a churchy beat on her left palm. Onlookers who were guests ogled the rare treat of seeing a real deal Indian practice. Their tribe's Spy Boy, Darryl, waved a white handkerchief around, yelped in his warbled tone and pretended to see another tribe's approach. A play uncle named Man-Man started strutting as their Flag Boy and the boisterous sound of voices rose, singing louder than the percussive drum beats onstage. Celeste stayed close to her grandfather, listening for his calls to change the tempo at the drop of a dime.

The Big Chief's salt and a little less pepper hair sweated out into tight curls. His dark hickory brown face stayed bathed in a sheen of earned sweat. Eyes closed and listening for the spirit to arrive, Big Chief struck his tambourine once and hooted, his cries flying overhead and joined by a tribal call-and-response that bolstered his bringing down of the ancestors.

Celeste copied his tambourine strikes to aid in catching the spirit. In four days, the tribe would take to the streets, preening and daring another tribe to outshine them. Thankful for choosing to wear a white t-shirt tied at the waist and comfy jean shorts, Celeste danced, sang, shook her hips and felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders.

Three hours rocked by with chants, foot stomping, and plenty of drinking.

Twirling to her left to show off for her friends, she took some time to eat and gulp down a rum and coke standing in front of the stage. She caught the eye of a man lingering near her right side. Despite the many faces in the bar that blended into a chaotic blur during practice, the stranger's eyes latched onto hers and she couldn't shake them away. He was one of them pretty boys with captivating light eyes and possibly good hair that most people thought Creoles were supposed to have. Celeste's family was bone-Black Creole, the darker kind that still spoke southern, creolized French.

The man stood near some of her male cousins, and God forbid, a childhood friend named Travis X who was a five-percenter and a member of the Nation of Islam. It was impossible to miss Travis's short, high and tight fade and big shiny teeth. Still lurking in the shadows next to Travis, peeping at her moves, Mr. Light Eyes boldly stared right back at her like she was supposed to be sucked up on a plate of hot crawfish and dirty rice Grand-mère served.

Big Chief nudged Celeste to join in on the closing song. Lifting her contralto voice to support her energetic grandfather, she belted out the first opening cry of "Indian Red"

"Madi cu defio, en dans dey, end dans day…"

Their tribe repeated the words like a field holler with a tinge of the blues until everyone was on one accord. They belted out the song that represented the core of their tradition.

"We are the Indians, Indians, Indians of the nation

The wild, wild creation

We won't bow down

Down on the ground

Oh, how I love to hear them call Indian Red

I've got a Big Chief, Big Chief, Big Chief of the Nation

The wild, wild creation

He won't bow down

Down on the ground…"

Tears welled up in Celeste's eyes while singing with her grandfather. The power of the words enveloped her like a cozy patchwork quilt. Big Chief was getting to the age where he would have to pass the torch onto his oldest son. It was quite possibly his last time leading the tribe. His age was catching up to what his body couldn't carry as well anymore. The heavy tribal suits could weigh over eighty pounds or more. She wanted to dance in the streets with him one more time before a shift took place. She heard the trembling in his voice…they all did. Everyone in that packed bar knew they were witnessing the closure of an era under his leadership. Her uncle Alston would be a capable chief, but Big Chief Harris Proffit was the only chief she had known representing her people since she was a baby. He was eighty-two. Time to hand down the baton.

The last note hung in the air and Celeste broke away, grabbed her smokes from her purse, and headed outside to clear her head. Big Chief didn't need to witness her sadness. He wasn't dying, just nearing retirement. But it felt like a passing on anyway.

Back on the corner and away from David, who allowed regular patrons to come inside since practice was over, Celeste opened up a pack of Newports and tried lighting a cigarette. She flicked her lighter. It flashed and petered out. She huffed, and the cigarette dangled from her lips. A sign from God to quit, probably. A spark of another lighter glowed under her bottom lip.

Travis had followed her outside. So did the stranger and a few other men from Travis's Hotep crew.

"Sister Celeste, you know you should give up the devil's ways with this smoking," Travis said.

Celeste puffed to catch the flame, and Travis removed the lighter.

"Then why help me out?" she said.

She took a long drag and blew out away from his face and noticed a dark tattoo on the stranger's muscular right arm. An eight-pointed star floating above a crescent moon. Shit. Another Muslim. Last thing she wanted was to be lectured and recruited to be the next Betty Shabazz to a Malcolm X wanna-be. At least Travis wasn't slanging his bean pies or the Final Call at the bar. A real vibe killer. One thing the Nation had right by her was how they cleaned up Black men and turned them into fine specimens of manhood. She glanced at the tall, pretty boy with the hypnotic eyes. His plush lips looked so succulent for long, lusty kisses.

As-Salaam Alaikum, she muttered in her mind.

Her stomach fluttered at the grin on his face. Like he heard her thoughts. He turned to look at a few patrons entering the bar, and she glimpsed more ink on his left arm. A marine tattoo with black USMC lettering. An eagle sat on top of a globe underneath it, and Celeste looked away when he rested his gaze on her face again. Her cheeks warmed up like she was in a hot bath, and she parted her lips to take in more air. Feeling breathless, she jabbed her cigarette against the wall and tossed it in a garbage bin near the entrance.

"You ready, Duchess? They playing the down home blues in there and the old folks are taking over the dance floor," Nae Nae said with an annoyed stank face, joining Celeste outside with Joyce and Mercy.

Joyce handed her a paper plate with a piece of King Cake on it. Grateful for the distraction, Celeste took the plate and broke off a piece of the pastry. Stuffing it in her mouth, she chewed and Mr. Light Eyes pierced her soul with another drawn-out stare. She stuck two fingers in her mouth and pulled out a tiny brown plastic baby.

"Oop, you know what that means!" Joyce said.

Mr. Light Eyes seemed to float away with Travis and their male entourage down the street.

"I gotta bring the King Cake next year," Celeste said softly, holding the plastic baby in front of her lips, eyes still tracking the round, firm ass of the stranger in his jeans

The marine glanced back at her and smiled. She dropped her head forward, feeling lightheaded.

"You okay?" Joyce asked.

Celeste pocketed the plastic baby and linked arms with her friends.

"I'll go change inside and we'll be on our way! Let's get to clubbing!" Celeste said.

Chapter 3 HERE.

Masterlist.

Author's Note:

Hey y'all, the rest will drop on Halloween as promised! I had to set up my masterlist post now to make it easier when I upload the rest of the parts. Please share/reblog so we can get another Black fandom growing!

Tag List:

@planetblaque

@kindofaintrovert

@thedondada05

@blackburnbook

@avoidthings

@slutsareteacherstoo

@nayaesworld

@notapradagurl17

@4pfsukuna

@yamst3rdamctrl

@sweettea-and-honeybutter

@comfortzonequeen

@theereina

@brattyfics

@prettyisasprettydoes1306

@megane96

@honeytoffee

@taurusqueen83

@mightbeher

@melaninpov

@carlakeks

@woahthatshitfat

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

#terry richmond fanfiction #Terry Richmond #rebel ridge fanfiction #Terry Richmond AU fanfiction #Black Vampires #Black Supernatural #Halloween 2024 #Uzumaki Rebellion

64 notes · View notes

russellsppttemplates · 9 months ago

Note

Herve, Amelie and Thomas all pitching in together with their allowance to get Charles the latest watch he's been looking at for his birthday!

"Do you have any idea for papa's birthday present?", you asked the kids, genuinely wanting their opinion on the matter. Charles had the possibility to buy himself something he liked, often he was gifted things he liked from the sponsors and brand s he worked with, and while having known him since you were kids was great because you knew his taste better than anyone, it was also meant that you had gifted him every possible type of present known to mankind.

"We saw him looking at a watch the other day", Hervé pointed out, making you think about it for a second. You gifted him a watch for his twenty-first birthday, so it seemed okay to gift him another one since a few years had passed by.

"I think I know which one it is if I look at it", Amélie offered, browsing the website on her iPad until she found the right one, "we also saw it in a shop by grand-mère's house, the one where I got my ears pierced", she informed, scrolling until she found the accessory. "It's this one, yes", Thomas confirmed, pointing at the screen.

"Good job, guys, thanks!", you cheered, "I'll see when I can go to the shop and buy it, maybe tomorrow", you smiled, kissing each kid's head sweetly.

Because Charles would only get home later that night just in time for dinner, you saved some time of your morning to go to the shop, telling the kids as much so they knew where you were headed, "before you go, mama, we have something to help you", Hervé said, getting up and heading to his room before he came back, "myself, Thomas and Amélie what to pitch in for papa's present, here's our contribution", he said, handing you and envelope with some money inside, "we really want to do it, mama", he defended himself and his siblings.

When Thomas gave Charles his present, he immediately blushed and gasped in awe, "how did you guys know I wanted this one? Thank you, mes amours", he smiled, pulling all three children into his embrace, or as much as he could since that now that they had grown up, it was harder to get them all in one place.

When you all retired to your bedrooms, you couldn't help but gush in pride of your kids, "you know, they all pitched in with their pocket money", you said as Charles placed the new watch on his bedside table, "really? Wow", he said, remembering the time Amélie followed Thomas around the house for the whole afternoon until he gave her the change of the ice cream she had lent him money for.

"They insisted they wanted to help and they were so happy with that", you said, patting the spot next to you on the bed so he could lay down and then you could lay on top of his chest, "we did good with them, didn't we?", he mused, "We did, amour", you smiled, kissing his chest.

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

#charles leclerc blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

224 notes · View notes

thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 2 months ago

Text

Being Zoro's dance teacher would involve...

Prince!Roronoa Zoro x princess!reader. Animanga characters who have not (yet) appeared on the show are mentioned.

*****

💚 Zoro is the adoptive son of King Mihawk of Kuraigana. While neither is a particularly affectionate man, they care deeply about each other; Zoro is grateful to Mihawk for having given him a safe home when he was an orphan and for having taught him everything he knows about swordsmanship, and the older man is now aware of how lonely his life was before that stubborn, overconfident but fragile boy crossed his path. The young man has given him much to be proud of: he is brave, clever, resilient, generous, loyal, and will make a splendid King one day… especially with the right Queen by his side. Unfortunately, unlike most young men his age, Zoro is completely uninterested in finding a spouse, whether for personal or social reasons. He does like girls, Mihawk is quite sure, just… he is perfectly satisfied on his own, and since he’s still so young, and his father is in excellent health, Mihawk has no intention of forcing him to marry and produce an heir.

💚 On the other hand, since the prince is by now almost an adult, it won’t hurt to introduce him to a few suitable ladies, both in the kingdom and abroad, in the hope that he finds one he likes. Mihawk would be particularly pleased to see his son marry princess Nami, second daughter of Queen Belle-mère (the elder, princess Nojiko, is engaged to prince Ace of Foosha kingdom) of Cocoyashi, a kingdom with which Kuraigana has just sealed an alliance. Zoro is a very attractive young man and would make a fine husband for even the highest-born ladies; the only problem is, Zoro has virtually never spoken to a girl in his life, and would probably be unable to impress one. Specifically, Zoro is completely unable to dance, a pastime most ladies and princesses appreciate and take part in; also, more matches, both the love sort and those decided by the future spouses’ families, have been sealed during a ball than in any other situation. Mihawk hopes his son will find a wife who appreciates him for more than his ability to do a double reverse spin but, he decides, it won’t hurt if he’s able not to step on his partner’s feet, and to avoid throwing her to the ground because he turned the wrong way during a reverse embrace. After all, his heir will come of age in just a few months, and the occasion will be celebrated with a great ball, which many princesses and highborn ladies will attend. They -he- need someone to teach Zoro how to dance, and more broadly how to interact with women and impress them.

💚 Mihawk’s choice falls on you, a fellow princess, younger child of a King whose realm is a longstanding ally of Kuraigana. You have started dancing when you were barely capable of walking, and your talent as a dancer is well known; also, the king reflects, a woman his age will be better suited for teaching Zoro to interact with potential brides. So, Mihawk writes to your father, explaining his request and asking for your assistance; he wants you to come live at his court and be his heir’s tutor in the art of dancing, to transform him into a suitable groom. While surprised, you are happy to accept: dancing has always been your passion, and more than once you reflected that had you not been a princess, nothing would have made you happier than opening a school and spending your days teaching others the art you love so much. King Mihawk’s offer is probably the closest thing you will ever have to the realisation of your dream, and so you beg your father to allow you to go.

💚 Two weeks later you’re at Kuraigana, curtseying deeply in front of the King, who is favourably impressed with your grace and elegance; he also tests you -”I hope you don’t mind, but I wouldn’t put my son’s future in the hands of anyone but the best teachers”- having you partner one of the court’s noblemen for a few rounds of the court’s most popular dances. Relishing the challenge, you perform admirably, and Mihawk is reassured he made the right choice.

💚 “Allow me to introduce you to your pupil.” he then says, gesturing to a person who has been waiting in a corner, unseen, ever since you entered the room “Zoro, this is princess (name); I’m sure you’ll do your best to welcome her in our kingdom, and will scrupulously follow her directions.” And so you find yourself face to face with your pupil, who advances towards you with the same enthusiasm of a prisoner on his way to the gallows. “It is a pleasure.” he mumbles as he stares at his own feet, while his father looks on disapprovingly “I appreciate your help, my lady, and I swear I will do my utmost to please you.”

💚 The prince is a very attractive young man, which you can’t help noticing, like you can’t help noticing the three -three!- swords he carries at his belt; you curtsy deeply, and then there’s nothing you can do but stare at each other, suddenly embarrassed and unable to find something to say. The last thing you want is to remain silent, since you’ve been called at court especially to teach the prince to talk to ladies such as yourself, so in the end you force yourself to say a few words about how happy you are you’re going to work together, and how you hope he’ll enjoy learning from you. Then fortunately you are dismissed, a comfortable set of rooms having already been prepared for you at the palace, to make yourself at home and rest… until that night, when your first dancing lesson will take place.

💚 And so, your new life as a dancing teacher begins. You and prince Zoro practice every day for two hours in the palace’s ballroom, and it is immediately evident to you that the task you have accepted will be very hard, perhaps almost impossible, to successfully accomplish. You are determined to do your best, to be patient and helpful with your pupil and not to complain if it takes him days, or even weeks, to master the easiest steps; in short, you want to be an encouraging teacher, the sort a pupil can pose questions to without fear of being reprimanded for not having learned already. Unfortunately, it seems at first all your good intentions are wasted, because your pupil seems at first as gifted at dancing as a fish would be at flying.

💚 Zoro -not prince Zoro, not your highness; he made it very clear on your first day that he finds titles completely superfluous, at least in your current situation. Since we’ll spend time together every day we might as well do without formalities, right? You can call me Zoro and I’ll call you (name), he pointed out. You had to recognise the sensibleness of his proposal, not daring to think what your father would think, knowing you’re letting a man you’ve known for no more than two hours call you by your first name- is completely unable to dance, which you thought impossible for a man who grew up at court; he doesn’t know the name of the most common steps, and can’t even tell a waltz and a foxtrot apart. It’s clear he has no interest whatsoever in the art you love, you could almost say he actively hates it, which is perhaps not surprising, since many men consider dancing a feminine art from which to stay away, lest their masculinity be put in question, but you really wish you could understand why, because that might be the only way to unblock a situation that in the first days of your permanence on Kuraigana seems lost from the start. Mihawk has told you how imperative it is that his heir makes a good impression on his coming-of-age ball, and you’re determined to help him as much as you can, but even with the best intentions you can’t teach a student who doesn’t want to learn.

💚 Zoro never skips your lessons; sometimes he’s late in joining you in the ballroom, but you’re soon informed that is due to his abysmal sense of direction rather than lack of interest or disrespect towards you. Clearly unenthusiastic, he does pay attention as you show him how to move, or explain why this particular dance is different from others, and can even replicate a simple sequence of steps after you’ve shown it to him a few times. He has less sense of rhythm than any person you know, but he’s smart enough to understand that the basic figures of a certain dance are based on the repetition of the same movements, whether there is music or not. When you ask him to dance by himself, arms raised to hold the body of an invisible partner, he manages, even though he still stumbles and occasionally takes the wrong step, and you do see him improve, slowly but surely. If what you had been asked to teach him were solo dances, the sort one performs by themselves, or group ones, you’d probably be able to make a decent dancer out of Zoro in a matter of weeks, and maybe even a respectable one with a little more time.

💚 Unfortunately it’s couple dances that Mihawk has entrusted you with teaching his heir, and tuat he would be mainly called to perform during balls, and it’s then, when he has to dance with another person, that Zoro freezes. “Put your hand in mine… no, the other hand, that goes on my side… yes, here, and… left foot forward… left foot Zoro, and… aah…!” Soon you have to exchange your delicate dancing shoes for a more sturdy pair, because your pupil keeps stepping on your feet, and he moves so awkwardly a couple of times he almost throws you to the ground; he forgets steps he had executed on his own only five minutes ago, turns the wrong way nine times out of ten, and is suddenly incapable of following the music at all. While until now he had patiently, and dedicatedly, listened to your teachings and done his best to follow your instructions, he is suddenly anxious to conclude your lesson and get away. Truth to be told, you can’t help but get the impression he doesn’t want to dance with you; he doesn’t mind when you’re giving him directions, showing him the steps and correcting him as he dances on his own, but when he has to partner you it’s a completely different matter: Zoro treats you as if you smelled bad, or had some terrible infectious disease - as if, in short, being close to you, sharing your air and touching your hands, were unbearable.

💚 It is perplexing, and frustrating, and also hurtful. Zoro is clearly a solitary person, unless he has known someone for years, and the friends he spends his time with are all men, but in the days since your arrival at Kuraigana your relationship had become cordial, if not exactly friendly. Zoro is quite introverted and taciturn, but as you dined with him and his father or shared a brief walk in the gardens after a chance encounter, you always found a topic to discuss, and you never had the impression he disliked you. What reason would he have? You had never met before, and you’ve never mistreated him when he made a mistake during your lessons -unlike one of your own teachers, who had the unpleasant habit of hitting you on the back or the legs with his cane when he was unsatisfied with your posture- and while he could probably find a more pleasing way to spend his evenings than learning to dance, he told you he’s determined to do his best to please his father. You really don’t understand why during the second part of his lessons, when he has to put into practice what until now he clearly made an effort to learn, he invariably looks like it physically pains him to simply hold your hand and put his on your hip.

💚 You have tried asking him what the problem is, whether you make him uncomfortable and if there’s something you can do to make him more at ease, but he never answered, simply mumbling that it’s not your fault and that he’s sorry, all if it looking at his feet -a habit you’re still desperately trying to make him get out of as a dancer- rather than at you, and offering no explanation for his behaviour. You can’t force him to confide in you, but you fear that if Zoro does not overcome whatever problem prevents him from dancing with you, you will never be able to teach him to dance beyond the very basics. You can always decide to go home; no one is forcing you to remain at Kuraigana in the role of dancing teacher to the prince, and for all his intimidating attitude you know Mihawk won’t get crossed, or worse complain with your father, if you explain to him that you don’t think you can help Zoro, even though you did try your best. The last thing you want is to put your pupil at odds with his father, who he respects immensely and who will be highly displeased to know his heir had his dancing teacher give up after only a few days, but perhaps what Zoro needs is a different approach, a person, preferably more experienced than you, with a different method who will succeed where you have failed… unless, of course, the prince of Kuraigana also treats them as if the simplest touch were an agony he can barely stand.

💚 One night you try teaching Zoro the basic figures of one of the most popular dances of the kingdom, which requires the man to circle his partner’s waist with his arm as he holds her hand in his. You begin the lesson determined to give your best shot, your last attempt before admitting defeat, but unfortunately it goes even worse than usual; Zoro does passably well for the first part of the lesson, making it clear he actually listened to your instructions and is doing his best to follow your steps, but as soon as you ask him to assume the position, he immediately looks away, as if steeling himself, and is only able to perform -badly- a couple of steps, his body almost physically rejecting yours, before giving up, and brusquely stepping away from you. “This is so stupid!” he exclaims, frustrated, and that is what really sets you off; as a princess you have been taught to keep your opinions to yourself unless asked, but you can’t stand it - you can’t stand him, and the way this stubborn young man insults the art you have dedicated your life to. “How dare you? Dancing is not stupid!” you cry out, pressing a finger to Zoro’s chest “Dancing is an art that has existed as long as humankind has, and you have the courage to dismiss it because you lack the intelligence to appreciate it? You are the fool, since for days you’ve been wasting my time and yours and you can’t even tell me why! If I really am so - so unbearably hideous in your eyes, at least have the courage to tell me to my face!”

💚 Zoro stares at you, flabbergasted, but you see realisation dawn on his face as you turn and stomp -which is proof of how upset you are; as a princess and a dancer, it comes naturally to you to move as lightly and gracefully as you can, but Zoro has brought out the worst in you- out of the room, leaving him alone. The next day, you beg to be excused from the lesson, blaming a terrible migraine, and spend the evening in your room, packing for when, tomorrow morning, you’ll talk to the King and ask to be allowed to return home. Part of you is actually saddened by this failure, and wishes you could have shown Zoro the beauty and the joy that can be found in dancing. You also wish you could have made friends with him, since the prince has many of the qualities you respect and appreciate in people, but the interest is clearly one-sided, since the simple fact of being close to you makes him uncomfortable. You were probably wrong to raise your voice at him, but what is done is done, and after tonight you are pretty sure Zoro will never want to see you again. You really hope Zoro finds someone he feels more at ease with and can learn from, but you can’t help feeling sad, and disappointed, that your first and perhaps only chance to be a dance teacher was a complete failure.

💚 You try to go to sleep early, in anticipation of your departure tomorrow, but two hours later you’re still awake, tossing and turning in your bed; in the end, with a sigh, you get up and put your dressing gown on, wondering if a short walk in the castle’s gardens will help you fall asleep. It will be highly awkward should the King, or Zoro, see you, for different reasons, but you’re pretty convinced you’re safe: the gardens will surely be deserted this late at night, and by now you can move around in the palace well enough to go unnoticed. A few minutes later you are crossing a long empty corridor on the ground floor, not far from the ballroom, when an unexpected noise reaches your ears, the sound of metal clashing against metal, grunting and muffled cries; a sword fight is taking place, you realise as you approach, the ballroom having turned into a field of battle, and the contenders are not two of the palace’s guards, or courtiers who decided to settle a dispute letting their weapons talk for them. It’s the King and his heir… Mihawk and Zoro.

💚 You knew Zoro is a swordsman; it would have been hard not to know, since he carries his three swords wherever he goes, even though you ask him to leave them on a chair during your lessons, not to mention that with a father who has long been considered the world’s strongest swordsman, it was probably natural for him to develop an interest in the art. You have also heard someone mention father and son spar almost every day, as soon as both of them have a free hour, but you never saw them, and perhaps that’s why you instantly forget your programme of walking in the gardens until you feel ready to return to bed, and remain to witness the duel, peeking from behind the door.

💚 The fight is violent, even brutal, not a simple spar or a friendly match but a serious battle with the two opponents actively trying to hurt each other, so much that at first you wonder if you shouldn’t go call someone to separate them. Soon, though, it becomes clear that Zoro is not attempting to get rid of his father to conquer the throne, nor is Mihawk punishing his heir, like your father occasionally did with you and your brother using his belt; they are training. “Now try a reverse grip, and don’t lower your guard!” the King explains as he effortlessly wields his huge black sword, clearly not restraining himself even though his attacks could easily kill a less experienced adversary “An overhead strike is not appropriate if you’re not right in front of your opponent, you better parry and then a lateral lunge…”

💚 Zoro is wielding all his swords, the third in his mouth (!), and is… well, he’s exactly what you wish he were during your dancing lessons: at ease, enthusiastic, determined to do anything to succeed as he parries or evades his father’s blows and does his best to counterattack. He’s a formidable swordsman, even someone like you who has never wielded anything larger than a steak knife can see it, but clearly at a disadvantage, struggling to even just keep up with Mihawk, but there is a savage joy in his eyes, the exhilarating feeling of a man who is in his element, focused on the fight above all, willing to get hurt if it means hitting his target. There is a brutal, uneven but compelling sort of elegance in the way the two swordsmen dance -yes, dance- around each other, exchanging blows and trying to break through the opponent’s defences, the clashing of the swords in the place of the gramophone’s music, and parries and lunges playing the part of the steps. You know Zoro can’t win, but as you observe the fight you find yourself cheering every time one of his blows is successful, or when Mihawk silently compliments him with a nod of his head. There is no trace of the awkwardness and unease you have gotten used to during your dancing lessons; if Zoro could be half as thrilled, at ease and motivated then as he is now as he battles his father, you reflect, he’d become a first-rate dancer in a matter of weeks.

💚 As you look at your pupil, excitement and elation and resoluteness evident on his face, you know this is exactly what you look like as you dance, when you let the music carry you to the point you don’t even feel your feet hurt and even the least coordinated partner becomes graceful, and you’re flying without the need for wings or magic. The sword is Zoro’s passion, just like dancing is yours; you may be as different, and your interest as incompatible, as it is possible to be, but for a moment you feel him close, almost able to perceive the emotions that animate his body. This is when you begin falling for him, even though you don’t realise it yet; when you see the real him, beyond petty fears and untold truths, shining through, the instinctive joy of knowing you are doing what you are meant to.

💚 The duel finally ends, as you expected with Mihawk emerging victorious even though the King does have words of praise -well, of not criticism- for his heir’s performance; the two exchange a few words before Mihawk leaves. “You’re not coming? It’s quite late.” he points out, and Zoro answers that he wants to practise a new technique before going to bed. You remain hidden in your nook while the King leaves the room, and once he has disappeared around the corner you return to look at Zoro, well aware that is not exactly polite, not to mention proper, to spy on him, but you can’t tear your eyes from the heaving, aching young man in front of you, who you feel as you were seeing from the first time… and you sort of are. Zoro takes a minute to drink from a water pitcher placed on a little table in a corner, wipes sweat from his forehead with his shirt -and you’re not as fast as you should be to avert your eyes when the fabric is lifted to expose his toned stomach- then, unexpectedly, he places the sheath with his swords against the wall… reaches the middle of the room… lifts his arms…

💚 … and starts dancing.

💚 If your father were here he’d tell you how unladylike it is to stare at someone with your mouth hanging open, and you’re quite relieved he’s not here, because gaping is exactly what you are doing, left completely speechless by the scene in front of you. He’s performing a simple waltz, counting the steps under his breath, which you have told him to avoid as much as he can because dancing should feel or at least look natural, but otherwise better than he’s ever done during your lessons, even when you let him dance by himself. If this is what he can actually do you’d call him, if not a natural, at least a quicker-than-average learner; does it mean that even if you’re not touching, it’s your presence that disturbs him, making Zoro unable to reach his full potential? Is he simply more at ease practising without a public, like it happens to many artists and athletes? But even so, why is he doing it now?, on the first day he hasn’t been forced to attend a dancing lesson - a freedom he should relish, especially after your tantrum of a few hours ago; you know the lessons were Mihawk’s idea, and how important it is for Zoro to have his father approve of him, but…

💚 “One-two-three… one-two-three… front-back-front…” Zoro keeps repeating in a whisper, stumbling a bit but then quickly catching himself, and you’d happily remain here looking at him for the rest of the night, and this is why you decide to make yourself known, because no matter how unexpectedly pleasant and sweet that chaste form of intimacy, and how lovely it is to look at Zoro, the real Zoro, free of the expectations of his father and the court, you know you’d be terribly embarrassed in his place, not knowing someone is observing you.

💚 “Good evening.” you murmur, abandoning your hiding spot to reach the centre of the room, and Zoro, startled, is immediately suspicious, even on edge, as if you had caught him as he committed a crime. “What are you doing here? Were you spying on me?” he asks, arms by his side and feet still in a waltz position, and you admit that, having accidentally stumbled upon him and his father on your way to the gardens, you remained to observe them duel… and then him, as he practised his dancing. “I’m sorry, I know it was discourteous.” you admit, which Zoro does not deny “It’s just… you were exceptional.” “You’re exaggerating, I’ve been dancing for less than two weeks.” “You do dance better than I could have imagined, but I was actually talking about your swordsmanship; you… you were amazing, Zoro. I’ve seen my brother use a sword, and there are many capable warriors in my kingdom, but no one is like you; you held your ground against your father, which is not something many people can say. But it’s not simply that you were fighting to win, or for your life; I… I could almost see you pouring your soul in your sword, as if that was what you were put on earth to do; you… you look just like I feel when I dance.”

💚 Zoro is clearly affected by your words, flattered by your compliments and… touched by your ability to understand exactly what he feels as he fights, the sensation of being one with his sword, as if the weapon were an extension of his arm and he could feel every blow it parried on his body, metal and flesh fused in one. He does consider you an intelligent and sensitive person and he does know how much you love dancing, but he never thought you could be similar in that respect… that no matter how different the arts you are passionate about are, you both made them a huge part of your lives, even beyond the objective importance they assume in your everyday lives. Zoro has already been called to fight for the safety of his kingdom, or for his own life, many times, but he would still keep his swords by his side and train with his father even if the whole world were at peace; and he doesn’t doubt you would still dance on your own, even in the narrow space of your room and without music, if balls had been outlawed. Yes, maybe you are more similar than he had imagined… two people who have made of their art a purpose in and a way of life, something that makes their very existence more worthwhile.

💚 Suddenly as he regards you, and while many would not describe him as the forgiving sort, he’s no longer angry about having been spied on; he’s not even angry you all but shouted at him earlier today, even though you humbly ask for his forgiveness. You end up sitting side by side on the floor, having the first frank, open conversation in the two weeks you have known each other, and finally, without even having to ask him, Zoro shares with you the reason for his awkwardness as you dance together. “I don’t find you… repulsive, at all.” he admits, the relative darkness of the ballroom hiding the slight flush that has crept up on his cheeks “I mean, you don’t smell or… there’s nothing wrong with you; it’s just that… I’m not used to being so close to a woman, and I’m not… quite sure what to do.”

💚 You are left completely speechless by his explanation, which is the last you would have ever imagined. “You are saying… that you are shy?! Not that… there’s nothing wrong with it…” you hasten to add, to which Zoro raises an eyebrow, as if momentarily doubting your sincerity. “But, Zoro, there’s nothing wrong with two people touching each other as they dance; as long as you maintain the correct position, and you don’t take advantage of the proximity to grope, which I know you would never do, no one will ever accuse you of impropriety. Maybe… you have promised yourself to someone, and you don’t want to disrespect them if you dance with someone else?” “Of course not!” Zoro answers, openly surprised you could think he has a partner, as if he had never even considered the possibility; do swordfighters usually prefer to remain celibate, with their sword as their only lover? Or are all the ladies in Kuraigana’s court completely blind, unable to notice the unquestionable attractiveness of their prince? “It’s just… I never had a mother, or a sister, or to be honest a girl friend since I was little, so I never knew how to talk to them, you know? Or what to do when I’m with them, and since most girls like dancing…”

💚 He’s really shy, you realise with a sudden, unexpected surge of tenderness, not to mention the relief of knowing he doesn’t hate you, or find you repulsive, for some mysterious reason. Poor Zoro, he’s the sort of man who considers women a completely different race, with inscrutable rules of their own, and he probably fears that not knowing how to act in their presence, he’ll end up looking like a fool, or a brute, and shaming his father. “Well, in my experience, and while I know well how complicated and ambiguous court etiquette is, many ladies will appreciate it if you simply treat them with kindness, and try not to step on their feet.” you point out “Come to think of it, that is the second reason why your father asked me to come here, is it not? To teach you to talk to women, to make a good impression on them; don’t worry, once I’m done you’ll be the darling of all the ladies of the continent.” “Thank you, but I’ll be happy if they don’t consider me a barbarian after knowing me for five minutes, and they survive a dance with me without bruises.”

💚 You share a laugh, the way friends do. “May I see your swords?” you ask then, still curious about that part of Zoro’s life, so important for him but that you have glimpsed at tonight for the first time, and the young man by your side seems happy to show you his weapons, explaining the history and strengths of each of them, and even invites you to hold his favourite, the Wado Ichimonji, in your hands, to feel how light it is despite the exceptional durableness of its blade. “I wish I could learn to wield it.” you murmur, lost in your thoughts, and Zoro grins. “Really?” “Well… it’s something I’ve never done, you know? There are female swordfighters in my kingdom, but I never thought about joining them or learning. Maybe I should have, you can never know…” “I can teach you if you want.” “Excuse me?” “I can give you swordsmanship lessons, just like you teach me to dance; it’d be a way to repay you for all the time and effort you devote to me.” Zoro proposes, more and more excited as he explains his plan to you “I can tell my father I require more time for my dancing lessons, and no one will disturb us; I must have a blunted sword somewhere… come on, I am sure you’ll love it!”

💚 In your heart, you doubt you’ll be any good, since you have never had any aptitude for weapon fighting -or hand-to-hand, to be fair- and you’re probably too old to learn something completely new, but after all, you decide, why not? You know Zoro will not make fun of you for your clumsiness and complete ignorance of the most basic rules of swordsmanship, and you like his enthusiasm at the prospect of having a -or maybe you as?- pupil of his own. “Alright; I promise I’ll do my best, even though I doubt I’ll ever be worthy of joining the King’s Guard.” you say, and Zoro smiles at you, clearly excited. “You want to bet I’ll prove to be a better teacher than you are?” he jokes, and you smile at him. “I’m sure I’ll prove to be both the better teacher and the better pupil, even though you started your lessons two weeks ago…”

💚 You spend a few more minutes with Zoro, who tells you about his training, that his father started when he was barely five years old, and that an inexperienced witness like you might find excessively hard, brutal and even cruel, but that Zoro welcomes with joy, despite the more or less superficial wounds his father often inflicts him, and the fact that in fourteen years he has never been able to best his teacher, because he knows the King wouldn’t be so hard on him if he hadn’t faith in his potential as a fighter. As he tells you about his swords, of the techniques he has learnt and of the many opponents he has bested, Zoro’s eyes shine with joy, the enthusiasm evident in his voice; it’s quite a difference from the withdrawn, awkward or in the best of cases distant young man you had come to know. Maybe, you reflect, now that you’re finally free from his embarrassment and fear of coming off as inappropriate, the two of you might become friends, able to both teach and learn from each other, and to appreciate your time spent together. As Zoro’s hands touch yours to adjust your grip on the sword’s hilt, you think that nothing would make you happier.

💚 In the end you both decide to go to bed, since sunrise is only a few hours away. “Lesson number one: a gentleman always offers to accompany a lady somewhere.” you tell him. “But your bed is only fifty paces away.” “It makes no difference, it’s the thought that counts.” Zoro rolls his eyes, secretly amused. “Very well; can I walk you to your room, princess (name)?” “No, thank you, prince Zoro; but thanks for asking.” “Oh, you are unbelievable…” In the end, it’s you who has to help Zoro find his way to his rooms; standing in front of the door you say good-night, and to your surprise, he bows and kisses your hand, much more at ease than he was doing the same on the day of your first encounter. “I’m glad we… I mean, that we talked and there are no problems between us.” he murmurs, his breath warm on the back of your hand as he avoids your eyes “I’ll see you tomorrow, yes?”

💚 You only sleep three hours that night, but you wake up the next morning feeling well-rested and ready for a new day, your intention to tell Mihawk you have decided to leave and return home completely forgotten - at least for now. You and Zoro share a secret smile while you sit at the breakfast table, and that night you present yourself at the ballroom wearing the only pair of pants you own -for riding; you doubt it’s the appropriate clothing for a duel, but you have nothing better- and clumsily fail to grab the blunt sword Zoro tosses you. Amused, he helps you adjust your grip on the hilt, explaining that the grip must be firm but delicate, otherwise your hand will hurt. “Ready? Now try to hit me, however you want.” he invites you, and not knowing any better you launch yourself at him, swinging the sword that is, obviously, taken from your hand in a matter of seconds. “Keep your sword in a defensive position until the last moment before attacking, or you’ll be dead before you get to touch your opponent.” Zoro explains “And you’re not using a broadsword, there’s no reason to use both hands to hold it…”

💚 After five minutes of repeated assaults during which you spectacularly fail to even touch your opponent, Zoro helps you assume the correct position -feet as apart as the width of your shoulders, straight back, knees slightly bent, sword raised at a forty-five degree angle in front of you- and then teaches you a few simple movements, parries and lunges both, that you practise and practise until you’re sure you can repeat them in your sleep. A couple hours and Zoro deems himself satisfied with your performance, and concludes your first lesson. “So? How was it?” he asks, half excited and half nervous, as if fearing you could decide to throw in the towel after a single session; he clearly still hasn’t the faintest idea of the sort of person you are. “I had fun; and I can’t wait to do it again.” you admit “I’m sorry I was so terrible, Zoro, you’re used to training with your father…” “You did well for your first time; and I’m sure you’ll improve rapidly. Now, you want to take over?” “Excuse me? Oh, right…”

💚 You had almost forgotten you also have a lesson to teach, but after Zoro places the swords against the wall, and you both take a minute to drink some water and wipe your sweat off, he returns to you, looking as determined as he was as he fought his father, and you hurry to turn the gramophone on. You tell your pupil there’s no need for him to practise on his own anymore, having seen with your eyes how well he can dance when he believes there’s no one observing him, and so, without wasting any more time, you help Zoro assume the correct position, an arm around your waist and your hand in his, only a few inches separating your bodies. “I can’t believe it is considered proper for a man and a woman to be this close.” he mutters “We can practically k… I mean, if I had bad breath you would smell it!”

💚 (he doesn’t, fortunately)

💚 “I know; in fact, that is the reason. Most of the time it wouldn’t be proper for a man and a woman to be so close, so dancing is a relatively appropriate way for them to have… a moment of intimacy. Not that there is something inherently romantic or sensual in dancing.” you hurry to add; the last thing you want is for Zoro to fear some princess he’s dancing with will take advantage of the situation to let her hand wander “I mean, it is absolutely fine to simply enjoy the music or talk with your partner. Now, are you ready? One, two, three…!”

💚 And so, almost miraculously, you are dancing, your partner still a bit clumsy and slower in his movements than he should be but leagues better than he was only twenty-four hours ago; you move together in a simple, repetitive sequence of steps, and Zoro smiles as he realises he had nothing to fear. “I’m sorry I gave you the impression I… disliked you.” he murmurs after a while “The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.” “I know; and let’s not talk about it again. I’m happy things are clear between us now.” you answer sincerely, and before any of you knows it you have danced successfully for a whole hour, and both of you are satisfied, even though your feet hurt. “Same time tomorrow?” you ask Zoro, and he smiles in return. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

💚 It’s like you have finally found the key to open a particularly sturdy door, to find the treasure hidden inside. Now that misunderstandings and awkwardnesses no longer exist between you and Zoro, he quickly begins improving as a dancer: he’s still rigid, a bit clumsy with the movements he hasn’t been rehearsing for weeks, but every day he’s a little better, and you are confident his father will be more than pleased with the results at his coming-of-age ball. Driven at first mainly by curiosity, you in turn develop a strong interest and fascination for the sword, and the moments you spend learning to wield a blade are soon your favourite during the day. It is tiring, painful, your body sweating and bruising under your clothes, your hand aching as you grip the sword’s hilt, well aware that Zoro could easily parry your every attack, blindfolded and with one hand behind his back. Being a swordswoman is, in short, as different as it can be from being a dancer, and this is why you like it so much: it’s something new, something you have never done before and that you have to do your utmost to be barely passable at -quite a change, given your long experience and objectively uncommon talent as a dancer- a challenge to yourself you’re determined not to lose. You are not sure you’ll ever be a more than mediocre fighter, but you will do your utmost, you promise in the privacy of your heart, for yourself and for Zoro, in order not to look bad compared to his constant improvement as a dancer and to repay all the effort he puts in his lessons.

💚 As a natural consequence of the time you spend together, your at first cordial but distant relationship flourishes in a close friendship. You and Zoro spend long hours talking, either as you walk in the gardens or you take tea in his rooms; a couple of times Zoro invites you to go riding with him, and while you’re pretty sure it’s because none of his friends is available at the moment

💚 (it isn’t)

💚 you are happy to accept. Soon, Zoro is not only a pupil in whose company you’re forced to spend hours every night, nor someone you hang out with out of necessity, since none of your friends has followed you to Kuraigana; you become sincerely fond of him, at ease in his presence like you’ve never been with a person you have known for such a short time. Zoro is introverted, stubborn, despite his father’s best efforts more inclined to solve a problem with his swords -or his fists, occasionally- than diplomatically, but he’s also loyal, generous, and kind, no matter how hard he tries to hide it under a semblance of gruffness; he’s polite towards even the humblest servants of the court, and you’ve seen him with your eyes as he harshly punished one of the guardsmen who had beaten a young groom guilty of not having readied his horse in time. He’s a good man, a good friend, and he will be a good King, when his time comes; soon, the loneliness you had felt after having to say good-bye to your family and friends disappears… and you can’t help thinking of how you’ll miss him, once it’s time for you to go home. Who knows if Zoro will write to you, or even decide to pay you a visit in your kingdom…

💚 The dramatic, terrifying event that leads you to question the tranquil friendship between you and Zoro takes place very late at night. You have completed another productive pair of lessons -Zoro has finally mastered a particularly complex waltz figure, and you have learned a semi-circular parry that allows you to block your opponent’s attack without lowering your defence- when examining your practice sword, Zoro decides it’s time for you to learn to wield a sharp weapon. “Every self-respecting warrior, even a King, takes care of their sword personally, rather than having a servant or a squire do it; tomorrow I’ll show you how to use a whetstone.” he promises, unaware that you already have a little experience in this particular task, having been friends as a girl with the weaponsmith of your father’s palace. You’ve never exactly used a whetstone, only witnessed him doing it, but how hard can it be? You’ll take care of the edge of your sword by yourself, you decide, and tomorrow you’ll present Zoro with a perfectly sharpened weapon; you’re sure he’ll be impressed.

💚 So you wish Zoro good-night and, rather than returning to your own room, you begin the short trek towards the armoury, where you’re sure to find a wheat-stone. It’s really late and you ought to be in bed, but you’re too excited for your little plan to think about sleeping. Twenty minutes later you are sitting on a stool, your still blunt sword on your lap and a whetstone in your hands as you dearly wish your weaponsmith friend were here to help you, when suddenly you’re not alone anymore.

💚 The man who has stepped into the armoury is a sergeant of the palace guards, recently assigned there from another fief of the kingdom for having killed, apparently in self-defence, a comrade. He is completely drunk, having spent the evening at the tavern, and when he sees you in the armoury, he thinks that you are a servant busy performing a late order from her master, or a village girl who sneaked in the palace to steal some valuables; someone, in short, he can abuse impudently, because she’ll be unable to react, and to defend herself.

💚 He’s wrong.

💚 The man approaches in silence. You’re still focused on the sword when a violent blow collides with your temple, making you see stars; before you have time to realise the danger you’re in, you’re on the ground, with the man above you, a hand pressed on your mouth to silence you. Terrified, unable to move and scream for help, you manage to grab the whetstone that had fallen from your hand and, almost blindly, to hit him in the face with it; the man screams, but when you manage to stand and try to make a run for the door, he grabs you, whispering in your ear that if you scream, he’ll break your neck before the guards on duty can intervene. “If you’re good and make no sounds I’ll let you live.” he whispers, not even trying to sound convincing; as terrifying as it is to realise it, he’s right: no one will come to help you.

💚 Suddenly, as the man’s cold hands start fumbling with your belt, you think about Zoro, and what he would do in a situation like this. He would not passively let this brute abuse him, no, he would fight back, he would show his assailant what he’s capable of, and you are without a doubt less strong than your friend, perhaps even less strong than your abuser, but that doesn’t mean you’re just gonna stand there and let him do as he pleases with you…

💚 Fixed to the wall you’re facing there are several metal hooks, with swords hanging from them that the guards can readily take before the start of their shift, or in case of emergency. Kicking wildly, you hear your assailant emit a cry of pain, and he lets you go long enough for you to reach and grab one of the swords, heavier than the one you have been training with but perfectly sharp. “Let me go or I’ll gut you.” you snarl as you turn to face the man, who has now a hand on his groin, the sword raised in front of you. You have never been so scared, yes, but most of all you’re angry, furious, at this pig who tried to make you -not a princess, not a guest of his King, but a woman with thoughts and rights of her own- his pleasure toy “I swear to God, I’ll kill you if you touch me!” The man laughs at your determination, but thank God Zoro has taught you well, and while the execution is not perfect, your blow hits the mark, and soon the man is on the ground, screaming and calling you words you know but had never heard out loud, as the wound you have inflicted him bleeds profusely. You waste no time gloating, but walk out of the armoury to reach the men standing guard in front of the gate, who heard nothing of your struggle. “Please send for the King.” you tell them, your tone calm and measured even though you’re screaming inside “There is something he needs to see.”

💚 Twenty minutes later you’re in the castle’s kitchen, sitting with an untouched cup of chamomile in your hands, while Mihawk has a quiet but tense conversation with the captain of the guards, who had approved your assailant’s transfer to the palace and is technically responsible for the security of the grounds at night, and Zoro stands silently next to you like a sentinel - or a bodyguard. You have no idea who thought of calling him, but you’re grateful; he has not uttered a word, but you saw his shoulders sag with relief when his father told him you were not wounded or hurt in any way. Neither smiles when your gazes meet, but he steps closer to rest his hands on your shoulders, and it takes all the will-power you own not to shift your weight against his solid body; neither of you is aware that the King has noticed the moment of intimacy between you, correctly reading in it much more than what the relatively chaste contact would suggest. He wisely decides not to mention it, at least for now.

💚 A minute later the King is with you, the guards having left; your assailant will live, he informs you, which he will soon have to regret, and Mihawk will make sure he will never hurt another woman in his life. “Forgive me for asking, princess, but what were you doing in the armoury so late at night? Were you… meeting someone?” He thinks you were waiting for a lover, you realise, feeling yourself blush under the King’s piercing bird-stare. You hurry to tell him the truth, explaining that you wanted to sharpen your sword in preparation for your next swordsmanship lesson, tonight. “You see… I have asked prince Zoro to teach me, in return for his dance lessons.” you explain; you don’t know if the King would find his son offering you to use a sword inappropriate, but you don’t want to risk him getting mad at Zoro.

💚 Mihawk does not seem to disapprove though; rather, he commends you for your courage and ability to defend yourself, and apologises for what happened, telling you he’s sincerely sorry you had to experience something like this, and happy you’re alright. “I will understand if you want to return home; and I’ll offer you and your father whatever reparation you will decide.” he tells you, and you feel Zoro’s hands tense on your shoulders. You tell his father that what happened wasn’t his fault, that the last thing you want is to leave Kuraigana, and that you see no reason to tell your father or to demand compensation, especially since thank God nothing serious happened. “All I need is a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow I’ll feel much better.” you optimistically explain, and Mihawk is about to call for a maid to walk you to your rooms when “I’ll do it.” Zoro says. Father and son share a long, intense look that you can’t decipher, and a moment later your friend has offered you his hand to lead you out of the kitchen.

💚 You both remain silent, still hand-in-hand, until you reach your rooms crossing the empty, dark corridors. Like you have taught him to do, Zoro opens the door but waits for you to invite him in, which you do in a whisper; he observes you abandon the blanket on a chair, and then “I’m sorry.” he murmurs “(name), the fault is all mine, I’m so terribly sorry.” “Why should you be? You did nothing wrong, and the decision to go to the armoury was mine. Please, Zoro, there is only one culprit for what happened tonight, I refuse to feel guilty for it and you should do the same.” you point out weakly “To be honest I should thank you; if you hadn’t taught me to use a sword, that man would have probably…”

💚 You can’t finish the sentence; you don’t need to. You cover your face with your hands, and this time Zoro does not hesitate before approaching. “May I embrace you?” he asks, almost shyly “I’d like to comfort you, but maybe you… you’d rather not be touched…” “Of course not.” you hasten to reassure him “I’d be happy to be touched… I mean, if you embraced me.” A moment later you’re held in Zoro’s arms, and you begin crying quietly, your face hidden against his shoulder, because you know you’re safe now, and you should feel proud for how you were able to defend yourself, but you were so scared, and it doesn’t matter if it’s all over now, you can’t stop thinking about it…

💚 And then suddenly you’re moving, Zoro’s arms around you guiding you through the steps of a waltz, and your feet following instinctively. “Zoro, what…?” “I thought dancing would make you feel better.” he explains, and the truth is that it does, even though the beneficial effect is due more to the presence of the young man in front of you than to the pleasant activity he’s leading you in. You adjust your arms’ position, taking one of his hands in yours, and no matter how late it is, and how absurd you must look, you spend a few minutes dancing, with your bed and vanity and wardrobe as your only witnesses; you are no longer crying. “I noticed you told my father our swordsmanship lessons were your idea.” Zoro murmurs after a while. “Well… I wasn’t sure he’d approve, and he wouldn’t get too mad too a guest, and a woman, would he?” “Quite the contrary, I think that knowing you want to learn to use a sword made him automatically fonder of you; hmm, so you did it to protect me…”

💚 He does not comment, but you see Zoro smile. “I’m glad you’re alright.” he murmurs “I know you took care of it, but I wish I could have been there; I would have killed that man with my bare hands.” “Really? For me?” “Of course; I… I don’t know what I would do if something had happened to you.” He looks at you, and you look at him, suddenly aware of how close your faces are, and your bodies, close enough you can feel how fast his heart is beating, but that is alright, because yours is pounding as well, and you’re probably too close, dangerously and inappropriately so, but Zoro couldn’t look less uncomfortable if he tried…

💚 For a short, precious moment, you could swear he’s about to kiss you; that he wants to, at the very least. Heart in your throat, without fully reflecting on what you’re doing but letting your instincts guide you, you whisper his name as you offer him your mouth, feeling his breath on your face… and a moment later Zoro has broken your embrace, even taking half a step back to put some space between you. “Zoro…” “I’m sorry; that was… inappropriate.” he murmurs, a hand pressed to his mouth as if to keep himself in check “I… can’t.” “Why not?” you ask him, half-desperately; you always thought that begging for a man’s attention and affections was the most humiliating thing a woman could do, but you don’t care, not now, not with him… “What would be so wrong about it?”

💚 You receive no answer; avoiding your gaze, Zoro asks you if you want him to send a maid to keep you company until you fall asleep, and then he leaves - leaves you, alone, feeling if possible even worse than you did twenty minutes ago in the armoury.

💚 The next day, Zoro seems to do his best to pretend nothing happened between the two of you - and it technically didn’t, which is the reason why you struggled so much to fall asleep last night and feel embarrassed just thinking about it. You talk briefly at the breakfast table, half-heartedly fighting over the last boiled egg in the bowl, but you can see his mind is elsewhere, and he makes sure to look you in the eyes as seldom as he can. The King looks at the two of you out of the corner of his eye as he butters his toast, but doesn’t comment, politely asking after your swordsmanship lessons, and informs you that both those and Zoro’s dancing classes will have to be suspended for the day, since the court is receiving two important guests: lady Perona, a distant relative of the King who lives on Thriller Bark Island, and lady Hiyori, sister of the Shogun of Wano, who Zoro will be tasked with entertaining during their visit.

💚 Later that day, you look at Zoro walking in the gardens with the two ladies -both older than him, but exceptionally beautiful- and feel your heart yearning, for him, and for the chance to be in their place. Whatever was born in your heart, maybe last night in your room and maybe slowly, silently, in the weeks that preceded that moment, is still too new and raw to give it a name, but it has taken root, and you fear it’s already too late to ignore or forget it. “He seems to be doing well, don’t you think?” the King asks as he comes to stand next to you, and you nod, proud despite your pain; Zoro has behaved admirably and clearly made a good impression on the ladies. Thank God he’s not dancing with them; your heart couldn’t bear it.

💚 “Oh, yes; I’m… quite proud; he’s perfectly at ease, and I’m sure the ladies will think well of him.” you answer, hoping to sound more enthusiastic than you feel, and the King nods, satisfied with the results. “I’m sure they’re not the only ones.” he murmurs, more to himself than -apparently- to you; you turn to look at him. “What do you mean?” “Nothing, do not trouble yourself.” Mihawk says, but you could swear he’s grinning, as if amused by a joke you haven’t caught.

💚 Something very dangerous has begun blossoming inside you, and you fear that, even if it’s just a natural consequence of the moment of intimacy you and Zoro shared, it will end up hurting you if you don’t put an end to it before it has time to grow. For this purpose, you begin returning the attentions of a young lord of Kuraigana’s court, who you know has looked at you with interest since your arrival on the island; he’s a very good dancer - in fact, he’s the partner Mihawk asked you to dance with soon after you were introduced, to test your ability. You take walks and have tea together - in the castle’s dining room or on a patio, never in the privacy of his or your room. Your new friend is pleasant, attractive, polite and clever; you sincerely enjoy your time together, even though, you must admit, sometimes you can’t help wishing there was another man next to you, holding your hand as he helps you descend a set of stairs or smiling at you as your feet touches his under the table.

💚 It’s dangerous, you tell yourself more than once, unfair towards a man who has done nothing to deserve the unpleasant role of rebound and probably pointless, because not even the most self-controlled person can tell their heart what to feel, or towards whom, but you can’t help it. One afternoon, you and your friend meet Zoro, back from a ride, during one of your walks in the gardens; the two men exchange a polite greeting, and you find yourself observing Zoro’s expression, hoping against hope to find on it a trace of… what? Displeasure? Sorrow? Jealousy, perhaps? But you don’t; the prince simply reminds you of your lesson that night and departs, your gaze following him with a feeling of longing in your heart you can’t stop any more than you could stop the sun from rising every morning.

💚 To all appearances, everything is fine between the two of you: you keep meeting every night for your dancing and swordsmanship lessons, teaching and learning from each other - a perhaps odd situation you nevertheless both enjoy, and naturally look for each other’s company whenever you wish. Your relationship has developed into a firm, sincere friendship, a bond that you cherish and from which at the same time, you can’t help wanting more; you care deeply for Zoro, and you know he’s equally fond of you… even though something changed since that night in your room, since that embrace, a nameless, difficult to define tension that sometimes makes you think that you could be something else, something different but equally precious, if only you could be sincere, throw caution to the wind and tell Zoro what you feel…

💚 Or if he did; unfortunately, it’s not always easy to understand what Zoro feels. Most of the time he seems happy with your relationship as it is; he never asks about your friend, not even to playfully tease you about him like friends do, and when you mention lady Perona and lady Hiyori, fearing to discover he has developed an affection for either of them, he simply shrugs and tells you they were both nice - which could mean everything and its opposite. Zoro told you he never had a lover, or wanted one, whether in the form of an official engagement or as a passing dalliance; most of the time, he gives the impression of being much more interested in swords than in women -or men- and that his feelings for you are purely platonic.

💚 And then there are other moments - few and far between, so much that you could almost forget about each of them or consider them nothing more than random accidents, but you never do. There’s the way he holds you closer than he should, almost possessively, as you dance a waltz; the slight tremble in his hand when he takes yours to help you pass over an obstacle on your path; the genuine affection in his eyes when you catch him looking at you, lifting your gaze from your embroidery or a letter to your father, and the slight flush that colours his face when he realises you’ve noticed. In those moments, you can hope; in those moments, as warmth fills your stomach and your heartbeat accelerates, you can be almost be sure that it’s not simply the romantic reveries of a woman who sees what her heart wants her to, but that Zoro feels the same, that he cares about you beyond friendship, and that if only one of you found the courage, and the right moment, to confess, then no couple in the world would ever be happier than the two of you…

💚 Of course it’s more complicated than that. You’re a princess, and you know well that it’s your duty to marry for the sake of your kingdom and your people, to secure an alliance or to put an end to a bloody war; it’s a role you’re ready and even happy to play, confident that your father will choose a good husband for you, and not simply sell you to the highest bidder with no regards for your happiness. Surely Mihawk is of the same mind, and will one day select a few unmarried princesses and ladies to introduce to his son; who knows if you could be one of them? Your kingdoms have been allies for decades, so a marriage between the two heirs might seem superfluous, but perhaps you and Zoro could convince your fathers, make them see that an union between the two of you would still be beneficial, and wouldn’t the heir of a firm ally be a excellent match for their own child…?

💚 Usually it’s a man’s prerogative to begin a courtship, but Zoro doesn’t seem inclined to confess his feelings - out of shyness, you hope, rather than because he has never even thought about you as a potential partner. Then you’ll do it, you decide; soon, preferably, since Zoro’s coming-of-age ball approaches, and he’s by now a good enough dancer he can keep practising on his own, without a teacher, which means you’ll soon have to return home. The last thing you want is for you and Zoro to have to part before you can tell each other what you feel; you need to act fast. You’ll make sure you won’t be disturbed, take his hands in yours and tell him, Zoro, no matter how grateful I am for your friendship, I have come to care greatly about you…

💚 “You’re distracted.” Zoro points out suddenly, and you blink, momentarily taken aback. “I thought I was doing fine.” you defend yourself, even though there was no trace of accusation in your friend’s voice; you have been sparring for a few minutes and you were able to par or avoid most of Zoro’s lunges. He nods, admitting that you’re improving by the day, but it's nevertheless evident you have something on your mind. “Is something wrong? I know you received a letter from your father today; is he alright? Does it concern your lover?”

💚 You tell him that your father is in good health, thanks for asking, and that the person he has mentioned is not your lover, just a friend you have taken walks and drunk tea with a few times. “Are you sure? Because this morning he told one of my friends he is going to ask your father’s permission to court you.” he points out, his expression unreadable “But it's fine, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Here… I have something for you…”

💚 This time you're not simply taken aback. Completely speechless, you observe the object Zoro has put in your hands: a sword, clearly newly made, with the coat of arms of your kingdom engraved on the hilt. “I had it done by the best weaponsmith in the kingdom; I hope you like it.” Zoro says “I know you’ll never devote your life to the sword like my father and I have, but you seem to genuinely enjoy it, and you’re becoming quite proficient at it… well, I thought you’d enjoy having your own sword. Do you like it?” Zoro asks, clearly more unsure that he’d like to be, and “It’s beautiful.” you murmur reverently as you inspect the weapon, the grip on the hilt perfect for your hand. For a whole minute neither of you speaks, and unfortunately you’re too focused on the sword, because otherwise you’d see the way Zoro is looking at you, and that would be enough to dispel any doubt regarding his feelings.

💚 “I guess now it’s up to me; I’ll have to gift you a pair of dancing shoes.” you point out in the end, making him laugh, but you’re not, because you understand how important this is for him, for a man who is a swordsman before anything else, who has made the sword his religion, his ambition, his cause, almost his reason to live, to give you your own blade “Zoro, I… I don’t know what to say; this is beautiful, and I really appreciate it. I promise I’ll treasure it forever, and I’ll work hard to be worthy of this gift.” Zoro smiles, relieved, and then for a minute neither feels the need to talk; in the end, just as you’re gathering the courage to tell him what you feel, Zoro takes your hand and “You know that it’s going to be my birthday soon?”

💚 Of course you know. On his next birthday, Zoro will officially come of age according to the law of the kingdom; lavish celebrations are being planned, with dozens of important guests, including your father, who confirmed in his last letter he’s going to come, leaving your older brother as a regent; you can’t wait to introduce him to Zoro. “Of course; I know that by now you’re a more than capable dancer, at least for balls and other social occasions, but I hope you don’t mind if I stay until then.” “Not at all; in fact, I’d really like it if you stayed, because… well, because we’re friends, obviously, and also because there’s something I need to tell you. Something very important.”

💚 “What?” you ask, not daring to guess, not daring to hope, but Zoro insists on waiting, and that he can’t tell you before the day of his coming-of-age ball. “Why don’t we return to our lesson?” he suggests then, and you nod, eager to test your new sword, your heart trembling. Hours later, at the end of yet another fruitful lesson, you bid Zoro goodnight, kindly refusing his offer to walk you to your room for a reason you barely dare to admit in the privacy of your own heart. “Zoro?” you call him once you’ve reached the room’s door, and he turns to look at you as he ties the swords’ scabbard around his waist “About my… friend. I really consider him a friend and nothing more; I swear.”

💚 Zoro smiles; you would have to be blind not to see the relief in his eyes. “I’m glad to hear it; he’s not good for you.” “He’s a perfectly polite person, clever and very kind.” “I know; but he’s not like you. He’s not…” he hesitates before adding “... special.” and then he mumbles a goodnight and turns to fumble with one of his swords. You leave the room silently, the weight of the unspoken things between you a sensual shiver down your spine as you walk towards your bedroom.

💚 Zoro’s coming-of-age ball is only a week away. While the whole court seems busy with the preparations, you spend most of your time helping the honoree practising his dancing; Zoro will probably have to dance with many ladies, including queens and princesses of families allied with his father, and it’s of the utmost importance that he makes a good impression - or at least that he doesn’t cause a diplomatic incident tripping his partner into the punch bowl. You also give him a few tips to help him make a good impression on the fairer sex. “There is no reason to be nervous; in the end, women are people, in many respects the differences in how to relate to them or to men are minimal.” you tell him “Be courteous, avoid swearing, introduce them to other people to make them feel welcome; maybe ask about their interests, take a chair or a drink for those who need them.” “And that would be enough to make them love me?” Zoro asks, clearly sceptical, as he, almost without noticing, executes perfectly a complex dance move that he had already attempted a thousand times, holding you against him, the warmth of his body seeping into your blood. You’re tempted to answer that yes, you wouldn’t be surprised if every single lady who will be at court that night asks for his hand, because Zoro is a man easy to love, and easy to fall in love with; after all you did, without even realising it until you were completely lost. It’s a feeling you had never experienced, so intense and special it makes your previous relationships, short-lived dalliances and unrequited crushes, disappear; it scares you, but at the same time you’re grateful you get to feel it - grateful you got to meet Zoro.

💚 “You’re going to be fine.” you reassure him in the end, as you both bow at the end of the dance “And whatever happens… even in the remote case the evening is a disaster, know that I’m proud of you; I know how hard you worked to learn, and I know your father will as well. It’s going to be alright, Zoro; and even if it doesn’t, I will be by your side.” He nods, more relieved to hear your promise than if you had sworn to stand by his side against a whole army of enemies. “Thank you for everything you have done for me; I know I haven’t been the best pupil, at least at first.” “Don’t mention it; I’m glad I could help you.” you assure him; and then, less sincerely: “I can’t wait to see you dance with the ladies during the ball.”

💚 And finally, the big day comes; guests from kingdoms far and wide have started arriving since yesterday, including your father, who is happy to see you, and to hear Mihawk praise you for all you did to teach Zoro to dance. You can’t wait to introduce your friend and your father, but there’s an equally important, although less pleasant, duty you need to fulfil: talk to your friend, who has just returned from a brief trip visiting relatives, to tell him you don’t intend to continue your relationship. It is, as you expected, a difficult and painful conversation, but to his credit, he reacts politely, thanking you for your sincerity and accepting your offer of friendship; he kisses your hand, and then asks to walk you back to your rooms, which you of course accept. “Oh, look who just arrived.” he notes a minute later, looking out one of the large ogive window of the east corridor; curious, you stop to peek as well, and see Mihawk, standing in front of the main gate, as he helps a woman step down from her carriage, followed by a younger one: they must be exceptionally important guests, you think, for the King to come personally to welcome them. “Who are those?”

💚 “That is Queen Belle-mère of Cocoyashi, and her daughter, princess Nami. I’m sure the prince has mentioned her.” “Why? Is Z-is the prince a friend of hers?” you ask, more and more confused, and your former suitor looks at you surprised, as if you had just admitted not knowing the sun rises in the east every morning. “Friend? No; princess Nami is his future bride; they are going to marry soon, to seal an alliance between the two kingdoms. You really did not know?”

💚 You didn’t.

💚 In the early afternoon, one of the maids comes to the room you have all but secluded yourself in, telling you the prince has asked about you; you ask her to report you’re too busy to answer, and remain in bed, curled up under a blanket despite the relatively warm day, your face hidden in the pillow you have already drenched in your tears.

💚 He’s going to marry soon. You can’t believe Zoro never mentioned it, but after a moment of reflection you have to admit you should have at least suspected it. After all, what better occasion to announce the engagement of a prince or a princess than during a ball in front of so many other royals and nobles? Mihawk probably wanted to make sure his heir wouldn’t make a fool of himself in front of his fiancée; Zoro is his father’s only child, how could you not imagine he would be formally engaged as soon as he came of age? The longer you think about it the more you realise how blind you have been, and your heart breaks for it: you taught him to dance, and how to act in the company of women, while in the meantime developing feelings for him… all of it, to prepare him for an union with another bride. Is this why Zoro didn’t kiss you that night, because it would have been improper given his status as an almost-engaged man? You wouldn’t be surprised, given how honourable he is; but then, what of the feelings you could have sworn he has also developed for you, and of his evident jealousy towards you former suitor? Did you imagine all of it? And what of the sword he has given you - a parting gift, perhaps, to remember him by once he has settled with his new wife and you’ve returned home?

💚 Now that you remember, he did say there was something important he wanted to tell you, after the ball. About what? Why would he want to wait until his official engagement? You have no idea, and frankly you don’t care. The three other people you have spoken about it after your former suitor mentioned the matter -one of the maids, an older lady, and one of the castle guards- all confirmed the whole court has known about the engagement for months, since before your arrival in Kuraigana, even though no one bothered to tell you - or who knows, maybe it’s your fault, and you simply didn’t realise the fact was common knowledge because you were too focused on your lessons with the prince, and on Zoro himself, who has now become more important for you than anyone has even been. You really thought he cared for you, and maybe he does; you have no idea of what his feelings towards princess Nami -who is really beautiful, elegant and shapely and with hair of a lovely tangerine-orange colour; you’ve peeked at her from behind a column as the King led her and her mother inside the palace, and had to admit she and Zoro would look lovely together- are, whether he hates her, loves her, or whatever else, but he wouldn’t be the first royal who develops feelings for someone while engaged with someone else…

💚 Does he… does he plan on asking you to be his mistress while he’s married to Nami?! You can’t believe Zoro would propose such a squalid arrangement, but even if the alternative is losing him, even if he confesses he’s in love with you and that would be the only way for the two of you to be together, you’re determined to refuse: you have your dignity, and you’re not going to humiliate yourself into an illicit affair, not even for the man you have fallen in love with. You’ll beg your father to be allowed to return home tomorrow morning, and until then you’ll do your best to avoid Zoro, and his future fiancée.

💚 That night, as the whole court celebrate its prince’s coming-of-age, you beg both your father and Mihawk to be excused from the ball, citing period cramps -the perfect excuse; not the sort of ailment that would lead your father to call for a doctor, a matter a man would not ask to know more about- as the reason, and remain in your room with your dinner served on a tray. You had looked forward to the evening, dancing to your heart’s content and seeing Zoro impress his father’s guests, but witnessing his engagement being announced requires more strength than you can gather. You had bought a new, beautiful dress especially for the occasion, and had also hoped Zoro would reserve for you the most important dance of the evening, the last, but you have no doubt princess Nami has eclipsed you in both regards. You spend a rather lonely evening, chiding yourself for having been so naive not to realise the man you had fallen for was already spoken for, and at the same time unable to regret having accept Mihawk’s request to come to Kuraigana: despite your broken heart, you’re glad to have met Zoro, and to have been his friend, and even though you’ll never be able to call him yours you will carry his memory in your heart forever.

💚 In the end, the music you can hear filtering from the ballroom two floors below ceases, a sign that the ball has ended. You are already in bed, slowly drifting to sleep surrounded by the darkness of the room, when suddenly you hear an urgent, insistent knocking at the door. Your first, mostly irrational, thought is that you’re being called upon because something has happened to your father; you leave your bed and run to the door, but when you open it the person you find yourself face to face with is not the assistant of the castle’s doctor, nor a maid.

💚 “Let me in.”

💚 It’s Zoro.

💚 “Are you out of your mind?” you hiss, suddenly tense; you have no reason to believe he toyed with your feelings, but he’s the last person you wish to see now “Do you have any idea what time it is? If someone saw you now, at the door of a lady’s room, someone could think…” “No one will see me if you let me in.” Zoro answers, stone-faced “I need to talk to you, and no, it can’t wait.” Grumbling, and mentally ordering your heart to stop pounding, you make sure the corridor is empty save for Zoro, allow him to enter, and quickly close the door behind him. “So? What’s so important you felt the need to disturb me so late at night?” you ask, staring at Zoro, arms crossed; in your heart you know he does not deserve your anger, but right now, given what must have just happened, you don’t have the strength to pretend all is well. Zoro is silent for a minute as he regards you, breath-takingly handsome in his dress uniform but strangely tense, hesitant as if he didn’t know how to express what he’s thinking; you wonder how it feels to be engaged, and what he felt as the court observed him slip a ring on Nami’s finger “Why didn’t you come to the ball? And don’t tell me it’s because of your time of the month, because I know you had them last week.”

💚 He knows, you remember blushing a bit, because he heard you complain your stomach hurt and got worried you were falling sick; of course, it’s highly improper for a woman to discuss that sort of private matter with a man, but explaining the real reason for your malaise to Zoro felt natural… because you knew the two of you were past that sort of false embarrassment, and that there was very little you could not discuss frankly, and be sincere about, despite the gender difference.

💚 You don’t quite know how to answer Zoro’s question, and you already know he won’t leave without having received a response; suddenly, as you face each other, like two dancers ready to take the first step, you feel naked, even though you have grabbed your dressing gown on your way to the door. “You haven’t been entirely honest with me.” you point out in the end, and Zoro blinks, nonplussed. “... I haven’t?” “Well, you didn’t have to discuss your personal matters with me, but I found it odd that you never mentioned the fact that you’re engaged.” “What? Who told you? And why does it matter to you that…? Oh…”

💚 Zoro looks flabbergasted for a moment, and then an odd kind of calm seems to fall on him… tension barely kept at bay, not unlike the way you have seen him face his father, swords at the ready, before the beginning of a new duel. “And why…” he finally starts, his voice barely rising above a whisper “Why is it so important to you whether I’m engaged or not? Don’t tell me you’re hurt because as friends we’re supposed to share everything, because I won’t believe it.” He’s right, obviously, and no matter how deeply you’ve come to trust and care for him, at the moment you feel so humiliated you can’t bear to look him in the eyes; Zoro knows what you feel, and you just want him to go and leave you with your disappointment…

💚 “(name), look at me.” “Go away, Zoro. If you care for me, if you consider me a friend, please leave me alone.” “I won’t; not before we can talk. Listen…” A moment later, as you still refuse to look at him, he has stepped closer to take your hands in his. “I am not engaged, (name).” he murmurs softly “If you’re talking about princess Nami, well… my father did ask me whether I’d be willing to marry her; I told him marriage did not interest me, but I would meet her to please him, and he promised to respect my decision. I’ve met her today and she’s… nice; she’s very smart, and pretty, I guess, but I don’t like her that way.” He’s not going to ask for Nami’s hand, he insists, first of all because she’s not available: she’s been engaged to princess Vivi of Alabasta, and plans on telling her mother as soon as she comes of age, next year. Also, for his part… well…

💚 “When I realised you hadn’t come, I asked your friend where you were; he told me he had no idea, and also that you had broken up with him.” “Well, I did tell you I only saw him as a friend.” “You did; but I can’t help wondering if there’s another reason, one that… has to do with me…” You smile; now Zoro is embarrassed, and while you don’t enjoy making him uncomfortable, you can’t ignore the timid, fragile hope that has blossomed in your heart. “May I ask you a question? That night, when you walked me here from the kitchens… were you going to kiss me?” you ask, and Zoro flushes; he bites his lip before admitting: “I was. I… wanted to, at least.” “And why didn’t you?” “(name)... you had been assaulted. Did you really think I could approach you, even with a simple kiss? I thought that at least in that moment, the last thing you wanted was to be touched by a man.”

💚 You sigh, grateful for his discretion. “I wouldn’t have minded, though.” you admit in a whisper “Not with you, and at least for a kiss… or several.” “Glad to hear it.” Zoro admits; he’s blushing furiously now, but you couldn’t tease him even if you wanted, because you are in the same state “For your information, I danced splendidly; even my father was impressed. And I didn’t make a fool of myself even once. You should have seen me, and you could have, if you had come speak to me rather than listening to court gossip; you had promised you’d be there.” “You’re right.” you admit “I’m sorry, it’s just… well, I wasn’t sure about what you felt, and I hoped you would… tell me…”

💚 Zoro admits that this is exactly what he planned on doing after the ball, once he had officially come of age: declare his feelings and ask for permission to court you. “I… already tried, in fact. You probably don’t know, but among swordsmen and warriors in general, there is a tradition… to gift a weapon to one another, as a declaration of intent. I enjoyed teaching you to use a sword, and want you to have one to defend yourself, but I also hoped that… well, that you would understand I was trying to tell you what I feel…”

💚 You softly point out that you had no way to know the hidden meaning of his gift, since all you know about swords, you have learned it from him; but now that you do you appreciate it even more… and one day, maybe, you’ll find a sword powerful and special enough to gift it to him. By now you’re both smiling; there are so many things you should say, but none is more important than the pure, precious feeling of belonging you are both experiencing, trust and friendship and affection all in one, Zoro’s forehead resting against yours as you feel able to breathe freely for the first time in years. Then your eyes meet and “May I?” he asks “I know I shouldn’t be here, and I can talk to your father first thing tomorrow if it makes you…” He can’t finish the sentence, because you have silenced him with a kiss, long and passionate, that Zoro instantly returns, holding you close as you lock your arms behind his neck; when you part, both gasping for air, neither of you feels the need to talk, but you hold each other tight.

💚 In the end, Zoro quietly asks for your permission to speak to your father; he has already spoken to his, and Mihawk has approved his decision -”Seriously?” “Absolutely. He didn’t look surprised, but I could swear he was sincerely happy for us.”- to ask for permission to court you. You tell him that nothing would make you happier, but he better wait for you to come of age as well, in three months, and until then you can write to each other, sharing your feelings in the intimacy of the written word.

💚 “Can’t you stay here until then? I think I’m in dire need of more dancing classes.” “Hmmm, I should help you perfect your technique then…”

💚 That night you throw caution to the wind, and ask Zoro to stay, which he eagerly accepts. You spend hours holding each other in bed, sharing whispers and kisses as your hands move to explore skin you had until now barely dared to hope you would one day get to caress. “This is why I couldn’t bear to dance with you at first, you know?” he confesses in a whisper as his fingers play with your hair “Because I… I already cared for you, and the thought of touching you made my pulse quicken. I feared that I wouldn’t be able to keep myself in check, and I would end up making a fool of myself.” You assure him that you could have never considered him a fool, and that knowing of his feelings makes you indescribably happy.

💚 “So, my prince, you think you can understand ladies a little better now?” you ask him in the end, as he holds you in his arms once more, your cheek resting against his shoulder, and Zoro smiles. “I think I got to understand at least one.” he points out softly “And that is more than enough for me.”

💚 You get married two years after your coming-of-age, with the approval of both of your fathers, surrounded by your friends, including princesses Nami and Vivi, who you have grown very close to and who are also newly married; by now you’ve become quite capable as a swordswoman, even though Zoro insists there is always room for improvement. Your husband, more handsome than ever in his wedding suit and whose eyes are full of the love you share and that never stops growing, takes your hand to lead you to the centre of the ballroom, and you feel your heart burst with joy, excited to spend the rest of your life by his side. “Ready, wife?” “I’ve always been ready, since I met you, husband.” you assure him; you rest your left hand on his shoulder and let him take the other in his, confident in your heart he’s never letting it go. A moment later you’re following him through the steps of your first waltz as a married couple, your bodies moving as one as the world seems to disappear from around you.

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Roronoa Zoro #Zoro #Roronoa Zoro x reader #Zoro x reader #Bellona's stuff

65 notes · View notes