#that I will just bug them to say certain words cause it like. gives me a fizzy happy feeling for some reason

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Do you think they didn't let Finn say "Professor Z" the entire movie because he's British and he'd pronounce it "Professor Zed"

[bitchimasnake-sss]

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

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

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

13th of june, 10:02 a.m

"i didn't think you would come."

"me neither."

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

by anything, you didn't exactly expect pleasantries.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"zoro is out with a couple of friends—"

"—i meant perona."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"of course."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"does zo- roronoa know?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

for old time's sake, is it?

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

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"zoro, do not behave like a hooligan—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"hm. sorry."

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

indoor court? what the fuck.

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

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

what the fuck.

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

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

he was tired but he was graceful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you sighed, "is it really my decision?"

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

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

8:31 p.m.

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

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

"so i need to see her face everyday?"

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

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

"then, leave."

"i swear on any god—"

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

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

"of course he will." zoro squinted.

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

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

"dad!—"

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

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"—your dad's."

"and you are living in my house."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuck roronoa zoro.

11:02 p.m.

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

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

but you did neither.

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

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

to: ynlnbiz@gmail.comfrom: vsanjibiz@gmail.com do you want me to kill him? for legal reasons, this is a joke. update me on how things go. don't lose your radiance over that moss-head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you watched my match?"

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

"—how did you think i did?"

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

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

"i lost."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what the fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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

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

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

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

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

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

just one more.

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

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

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

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

just one more.

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

just one more.

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

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

just one more.

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

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

12:44 p.m.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

12:03 a.m.

fate led you here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

knock knock knock.

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

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

"can i come in?"

he looked tipsy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"let me explain. we were seventeen—"

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

"i still do."

"fuck you, roronoa."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"yes ma'am."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and just like that, roronoa zoro lost all sanity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"wh-what?" you played dumb.

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

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

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

"i-i'm gon' cum—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

this was roronoa zoro, the star player.

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

and there was you, the fool that always stayed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"go back to your room, rorona."

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

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

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

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

"please—"

"leave."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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

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

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

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

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

"that you and roronoa zoro are together?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you're dead, roronoa."

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

what the fuck.

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

[minecraftakis]

*+:｡.｡ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ | giyuu bf hcs!! pt.2

a/n: nao lets act like i didn’t disappear BUT ANYWAYS im gonna write some more hcs since this angst i had planned is taking way longer than i expected!! lmk who yall wanna see next or what yall see :3 (pt.1 here!)

pairing: giyuu tomioka x gn!reader

cw: doodoo, kinda short, fluff, sfw!, not proofread, blah blahh

+.˚ · • . ° .*+:.｡✫

- giyuu as a bf! who asks for your hands to play with them, he’s the type to trace the creases on your palm, rub the back of your hand, and thumb at any scars or scratches you have. giyuu enjoys the feeling/or touching of things that soothe him.

- giyuu as a bf! never EVER hides your relationship, he’s private but he’s not secretive. like he’s not the type to be open about it just like thatt so somebody would have to literally ask him if he had a s/o to find out.

- giyuu as a bf! who gets very worried about your safety, especially if you’re in the demon slayer corp. he doesn’t doubt your strength but as someone that he deeply cares for, he wants to know that you are safe and well. this causes alot of issues and conflicts in the beginning of your relationship with him, but you eventually surpass this with time.

- giyuu as a bf! that only on a blue moon do the you and him ever get into disagreements and conflicts. it’s usually miscommunication, or a misunderstanding and a lot of times it’s cause of his pent up emotions that are very unpredictable. a lot of times you guys can talk about whatever’s bothering him or you, but when you can’t he gets really distant, and he usually gives you the silent treatment. he really only does this cause he doesn’t want to say something he’ll regret later, but you know that, so you’re not too worried!

- giyuu as a bf! writes and is always writing you poems or letters in his spare time. if you’re off on a mission he’ll send you long letters of anything that’s he’s been doing lately and how he’s waiting for your safe return.

- giyuu as a bf! lobes to cuddle. he is the most cuddle-bug of cuddle-bugs! he likes when you cradle him cause he can hide his face and sniff you, plus you can caress his big head and kiss his forehead. it could be in bed cuddling or just as you sit somewhere buttt he loves your warmth and the pressure of when ur on top of him, he says “dear, come here. get on top of me.” or he’ll just grab you and do it himself.

- giyuu as a bf! doesn’t get jealous a lot, but when he is he gets quiet. not like silent treatment, but he’ll get really questionative and start like interrogating you type… and by then you know he’s jealous so you’re super quick to reassure and comfort him. he’s like he’s like “what were you doing today..?” and then he’s like “who were you with today…?”

- giyuu as a bf! really likes when you play with his hair, he likes when you brush it and he really likes when you style it. you calm him a lot like that.

- giyuu as a bf! thinks that kisses are very special and intimate and he’s very certain with how and when he wants to kiss you. he’s not strict by any means but yk! he likes kissing your cheeks, anything around your neck and he loves kissing your shoulders and like that area. he goes crazy at your nape!! your hands,and your lips. he might be a man of a few words but he does so good at making you feel so very loved.

+.˚ · • . ° .*+:.｡✫

a/n: highkey wanna write some freaky hcs now.. cause i’m in need of it but!! who knows!! lmk what yall think or if yall have some other hcs! >u<

[winstonsns]

hello!!! I was wondering if I could request a Dallas Winston x reader story based off of the song "she's a fool" by Lesley Gore. The song reminds me a lot of Sylvia and Dallas and so maybe the story can be based around how reader is a better gf than Sylvia and such. Hopefully this makes sense LOL

she’s a fool (request)

authors note: this was super fun to write so i hope you like it 💗

dally x reader

word count: 2.0k

warnings: cussing, slightly suggestive, joking threats

you and your boyfriend, dally, are in your kitchen, both of you sitting on the barstools made for the island. the two of you are talking when you decide to take some cherries out of the fridge, you wanted a little snack to satisfy your hunger.

as you get up from the stool and walk to the fridge, dally asks, “heard that new elvis movie’s out, you wanna come see it with me? it’d be jus’ the two of us.” giving you a certain look and winking at the end.

you blushed, rolling your eyes and stating, “i want to go but i’m gonna ask my parents first. don’t wanna make them worried when they don’t see me at home.” you open up the fridge and take the cherry bag out, turning around and taking a bowl out of the cupboard.

you then take some cherries out of the bag and head towards the sink, rinsing them. dally gives you a confused look, “what— why are you rinsing them?”

looking back at him, you answer, “i dunno, my mom always told me to rinse fruits and vegetables because you never know what kind of bugs can be on them. just tryin’ to stay safe.” your boyfriend finally understands your answer and shrugs it off.

once you were done rinsing them, you put them in a bowl and put it in front of you and dally. your dad then comes down the stairs and says, “almost late for work, honey. i’ll be back around… probably six.”

you nod, grabbing his lunch out of the fridge while he thanks you, you ask, “hey, dad, do you think i could go to the drive in with dally today? it’d probably be around… um…”

looking to your boyfriend for the answer, he looks back at you then to your dad, finishing, “oh, probably around seven or so. we’d be back around nine, i’m guessing. right, baby?”

you blush and look at him, nodding. you stand next to him while he’s sitting, your dad eyes him suspiciously. you put your arms around dally’s shoulder, your chest to his back as you look over his shoulder.

“please, dad? we’ll be safe, dally can protect me, you know him! so strong, so good at fighting and so amazing…” you look at dally, dropping your arm to his bicep, smiling at him sweetly as he eats a cherry, a wide grin on his face.

your dad sighs, “fine. you better keep her safe, winston. and you better not,” he paused, “and i mean better not do anything bad or inappropriate.” you tried to hold back a laugh, a smile evident on both you and your boyfriends faces. your dad made a serious face at you, crossing his arms.

you walked over to your dad and thanked him, “thank you dad! i think you should be heading to work now though, love you!” while you’re giving him a hug, he glares at dally, causing your boyfriend to put his hands up in a mocking surrendering pose.

when you let go of the hug, your dad replies, “love you, kid.” and walks out of the door, you walk behind him to lock the door. you then go back to dally, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and once again kissing him.

after pulling away, he looks at you with so much love in his eyes, anyone would know you are the only one he loves if someone saw him like this. he knows he loves you although it’s difficult for him to express it, he doesn’t directly voice it to you.

the two of you stay at your house for the next nine hours, consisting of you talking, sleeping or reading while he looks around your room. by the time it’s 6:30, the both of you decide to drive to the drive in.

when you get into the drivers seat and your boyfriend is in the passengers seat, he asks, “why ain’t i drivin’?” you chuckle, looking at him to see if he was serious.

you answer, “i love you, dal, but i am not lettin’ you drive my car.” he rolls his eyes as you begin to drive, “i’m a perfectly good driver, don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout…” he mumbles.

you laugh, the only laugh he loves so much, the one he’d notice even if so many others were laughing at the same time. he grins, looking back at your concentrated face, focusing on the road.

when you both arrive at the drive in, you find a good place to park before getting out and sitting on the hood. dally sits next to you, you then hear a loud scream in your ear, causing you to lean towards your boyfriend and look to him for help as you scream back.

you look behind you to see two-bit laughing his ass off, a bottle of alcohol in his hands as you give him a pissed off look. your boyfriend laughs as your side is pressed into his, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and kissing your forehead.

“i’m gonna get us some snacks. you want anything?” you stated, asking your boyfriend too. he thought for a moment before responding, “just a coke, thanks doll.”

as you walk away, he grabs a cigarette from the box in hispocket, he got into the habit of avoiding smoking near you. he grabs a lighter from his pocket, lighting the cigarette and putting it in his mouth.

your boyfriend and two-bit are both talking when keith interrupts, “looks like you got company, dallas. you’re so fucked, i’ll be back when sylvia’s gone.”

dally groans, hearing sylvia’s voice behind him, “hey, dal, you wanna come back to my place after the movie’s done?” the nickname feels so wrong coming from her. he doesn’t even look at her, doesn’t turn around and focuses on the car, your car.

“get the fuck away, i have a girlfriend.” he responds, clearly agitated as he doesn’t want you to see him angry. he doesn’t look to see where you are, he knows you’ll be back soon.

she responds, “so? she doesn’t have to know…” as she puts her hand on his arm, he loses his temper.

“god, don’t you ever know when to fucking stop, sylvia? we broke up because you fucking cheated on me while i was in the cooler, man. there’s no way i could even be with you after that. you’re a piece of shit, you’re a bad person and you deserve nothing but the worst for the rest of your life. i have a girlfriend, she never treats me how you did. she’s way better than you, better than all the girls i’ve dated, and you can go cry about it to someone else for all i care. she treats me like she actually loves me, she treats me like she knows my fucking worth. she does more than you ever could, and she is the one i want. you can piss off, sylvia, you’re dead to me, you fucking get that?” he pauses, still angry as he sees tears in her eyes, “oh, now you’re crying, huh? maybe you should’ve thought first before cheating on me, before treated me like shit! get fucking lost.”

she runs away at the last sentence, dally rolling his eyes and leaning against the car, going back to smoking. two-bit walks back to him, asking, “damn, you do care about y/n. never heard you talk about her like that, is it true?”

your boyfriend stares at him, nodding slightly and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, “you tell anyone about this, i’ll cut your damn head off.” his friend chuckles at the threat, stating, “your girl’s back, put it out before she sees.” referring to the cigarette.

he drops it and puts it out with his heel, walking over to you and putting his arm around your shoulder, taking his soda out of your hands, thanking you.

the both of you sat down on the hood of your car, you scoot closer to him and give him a kiss on the cheek. he smiles at you, returning the favor except on your forehead.

as the movie plays, the soda cups begin to become less filled, the chip bags only being filled with crumbs. the silence of you and dally are occasionally interrupted with little comments about the movie.

once the movie is done, the two of you look at each other and smile. you grab his trash and walk to a trash can, him following you, for protection, he says. he then follows you back to the car, grabbing your hand and staying close to you.

the both of you get into the car, driving in the direction of your house. the drive there is filled with silence, dally looks at you, not being able to see your face well because of the dark. he places his hand on your thigh, looking out the window once you turn your head to him.

when you arrive at your house, you open the door to see your dad in the living room, sitting on the couch. he reads the newspaper and looks up, asking, “how was the movie, you two?”

you respond, “oh, it was good!” and summarize the whole movie for him, as he wasn’t planning to see it anytime soon.

you then look nervously at the ground, your boyfriend still behind you at the entrance, standing awkwardly. you ask, “hey, um, dad?”

he sighs, putting down his newspaper as you smile, “can dally stay over tonight? he’s already here and it would take him a while to get back to his own place…”

your dad sighs once again as your boyfriend is silent, “yeah. go to bed.” you exclaim and walk to your dad, hugging him and thanking him.

you then walk to your boyfriend, leading him upstairs as he grabs your hand once again. you notice and ask, “dal, you seem awfully close today, did something happen? i’m not complaining, just wondering.”

he looks at you, stating, “sylvia came up to me at the drive in. asked me if i wanted to go back to her place, i said no and told her i gotta girlfriend, that you’re way better than her and i’d never want her again, not even to save my life. told her to piss off.”

as the two of you walk into your bedroom and you close the door, you beam, “aww, that’s so cute, dal! thank you for telling her to piss off and stuff.”

“yeah, no problem, doll.” he replies, letting go of your hand for a brief moment to take his shirt off, changing his pants into more comfortable ones he had left at your house.

you walked into your bathroom, doing your nightly routine before changing into your pajamas. you pull the sheets down, curling up as you look at your boyfriend.

he smiles, scoffing and pulling down the sheets on the other side of the bed, laying down. you cuddle up next to him as he puts his arm around your waist in a protective manner.

“love you, dal… thanks for being the best boyfriend ever…” you mumble into his chest, falling asleep quickly after.

he pauses before kissing your forehead gently, your head on his chest. he realizes he wants to be cherished, to be loved, you make him feel that way. he can’t find a single flaw in you, and realizes he should treat you like he loves you. you are a better girlfriend than sylvia ever was, than all of his girlfriends combined. you make him feel like someone, make him feel like he has someone to live for.

“sweet dreams, baby.” he mumbles into your hair, falling asleep not long after. your dad quietly opens the door, light coming in as he saw you and your boyfriend cuddling.

he chuckles softly, closing the door and walking into his own bedroom, knowing you were truly loved by dallas winston.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Animorphs and SIX

Hi there! Cates here! Unlike Bug/Sol, I have listened to SIX, and I unapologetically adore it. So I asked her if I could take a crack at the ask about an Animorphs/SIX fusion.

To me, the way to do a match up of SIX and Animorphs would be to match each Queen with a host. The whole point of SIX is that the queens’ stories/lives are reduced to “just one word in a stupid rhyme” “cause in history [they’re each] fixed as one of six and without [Henry VIII] they disappear.”

SIX interrogates the familiar way we’ve always told a certain story, basically forcing us as the audience to confront our own complicity in silencing these women by only seeing them through the lens of a powerful man. Catherine of Aragon is a bitter divorcee, Anne Boleyn is a homewrecker, Jane Seymour is an ideal wife and mother, Anne of Cleves is ugly, Catherine Howard is a sl€t, Catherine Parr is a caretaker. Their stories don’t matter. Their voices have been silenced. They aren’t allowed to say who they are, all that matters is the shell presented to the world. They are disenfranchised and largely powerless, and they’re entirely defined by the man who literally dictated if they lived or died. Sound like any characters we know?

For me, a quick pairing would go as follows:

Catherine of Aragon: Alloran. Life did NOT work out the way he planned. Has a strict moral code. Brought low from a position of power and fame. Stuck in his role for a loooonnngggg time.

Anne Boleyn: Eva. Seen as a means to an end by the Yeerks, is much cleverer and more politically savvy than they’re anticipating, refuses to apologize for who she is, calls the Yeerks on their hypocrisy and bullshit.

Jane Seymour: Taylor. Seemingly wants what’s being offered (power, community, wealth, safety), but it’s a mistake to view her as blindly devoted to the cause. She’s grabbing as much power as she can in a situation where she’s largely disenfranchised and overlooked. She may not always understand the Yeerk empire, but they’re the best game in town and she’s pouring herself into her work because at least they didn’t toss her aside.

Anne of Cleves: Jake. The marriage doesn’t last long, ultimately he ended up with all the power and advantages from the situation. It wasn’t pleasant for him, but he came out on top. And he outlives the Yeerk Empire.

Catherine Howard: Tom. He’s a naive teenager who gets dragged into an impossible situation because he has a crush. He’s passed from Yeerk to Yeerk, each one seemingly worse than the last. He dies young, never having a chance to give voice to his own story, a child whose childhood was stolen.

Catherine Parr: Karen. She’s dragged into things against her will, but her imprisonment is NOT her whole story. She’s not looking to make waves or overturn the status quo, but she has so much life to live beyond her brief period of enslavement to the Yeerks. No one is going to remember her, but she probably doesn’t care because she’s too busy living her life.

[uvonobu]

Bonolenov yapping:

Hi Phantom Troupe nation. I’ve been pretty annoyed with the fandom perception of Bonolenov (notably on tiktok) recently. I wanted to talk about it a bit. This is gonna be very unstructured I just wanted to get my thoughts out

So, people have this weird assumption that because of Bono’s appearance, he would act in “strange” ways. They think he’ll act like a freak, basically. When in canon, Bono is reserved, and wants to be perceived in a very specific way.

When Bono speaks, he does so meaningfully. Otherwise, he won’t say anything at all. His vocabulary is purposefully elegant; and he carries himself with grace in battle. His speech is very interesting when you consider the language he’s speaking is likely not his first one. He had to learn all these words and phrases so he could speak this way. I think about it a lot.

Likely, Bono feels the need to act and speak a certain way as to uphold his dead tribe’s honor. He clearly holds a lot of respect and pride for his tribe in the way he talks about them. They weren’t treated like people when they got taken off their own land and murdered; He would never want himself, and by extension his tribe, to be perceived as nothing again.

Because of this, he’s carful about the way others see him. This is probably another reason why we barley see him talk. WHICH IS WHY. HE WOULD NOT BEING GOING AROUND ACTING FOOLISH. No he is not chasing little kids around and making them cry for no reason. He will literally ONLY SPEAK if there’s a good reason, tell me why he would ever go out of his way to do some shit like that. He would not be harassing people, again, he has no reason to. He’s not “the gremlin character” just because of his appearance … plus kortopi is right there .. but you know what he is?

You know what he ACTUALLY is? HE IS POETIC. AND HE IS LOWKEY SASSY. THE FUCKING “Squashed to death, what a pity. But it’s rather appropriate for a bug, don’t you think?” HES SO FUCKING ICONIC AND YOUUUU PEOPLE DO NOT DESERVE HIM FOR HOW FUNNY HE COULD BE YOU JUST IGNORE ALL THE SASS HE GIVES OUT CAUSE YOU WANNA MAKE HIM STUPID SO BAD BUT HES INSANELY INTELLIGENT DID YOU PEOPLE EVEN WATCH THE SHOW

Sorry ik this is a weird thing to rant abt but I had to get this out cause I cannot stand how people treat him like a freak who’s just hisoka 2.0 HE IS QUITE LITERALLY THE OPPOSITE OF THAT . I cannot take this anymore y’all need to stop hating on my glorious goat they could never make me hate you Bono

[magicxc]

Call On Me

Pairings: Idris Elba x Black!Reader

Word Count: 1523

Warnings: Exhibitionism, Fellatio, Choking

BBJ Masterlist

“C’mon angel, put it in all the way.”

“Idris, it wont fit and I’m not about to make it either.”

“Just let me help you push it in, you’re not doing it right.”

“No, cause then it’ll stretch.”

“It’s elastic, so it’ll snap back.”

“We’re still here daddy, I can just get another size as opposed to destroying this one.”

“I mean if you want your jeans to fit like sweatpants, then go for it.”

“You’re so dramatic, it simply doesn’t fit, and you’ll love me either way; sweat pants or not.”

“I mean yeah, of course but it’s drip or drown; and if you're gonna be with me, then you’ve got to be drippin.”

Sometimes it’s best to ignore him. God knows I love my boyfriend, but I can’t with the shit that comes out of his mouth. It’s like somebody teleported him back to 2017 and he’s readjusting to the present life. 

Albeit fashion is a big deal to Idris, I’ll give him that. But I, for one, value comfort over everything. It’s just one of those things we’ve come to meet in the middle about, though he’ll still try and rearrange my wardrobe if given the chance. 

“Idris, can you add this to the ‘maybe’ pile in the corner please?”

Taking the pants from me, he neatly hangs it up in the corner of the room, uttering how even tho my clothes aren’t dripping, he can be.

“Oh my goodness,” I laugh. “Really? Tell me you’re joking.”

“Now why would I do that mhmm? In fact I remember a time when stargazing in public was on both of our bucket lists.”

“Yes, in the car or under a moonlit beach not the damn mall,” I gushed. “Idris nothing about this says private.”

“Is that not the point of PUBLIC stargazing,” he enunciated.

Ahh yes, stargazing - an act in which one can observe the many stars of the galaxy sometimes as a hobby or sometimes for scientific research. Of course our star gazing meant something vastly different. Even though we didn’t need a telescope to see them, there was still that warm and fuzzy feeling when they did appear. 

You see Idris and I have a thing for code words. It’s used mostly when gossiping about people or situations. But recently it's become a fun new way for us to describe sexy times in front of others. 

How real would it be to blurt out amongst your friends that you just want to take your lover home and become one with the sheets? I’m sure they’d understand but I’m not tryna let people know every time I want my back blown out. So instead we came up with a way to state our intentions without having to dance around certain words. 

For example, Sunday dinners with the family goes something along the lines of 'do you want to go stargazing afterward?' Similarly to how it's socially acceptable to tell your loved ones that you and your partner are trying for a baby but not that their pussy turns into a mini day care every night; except our family hasn’t quite caught onto the the fact that neither of us so much as own a telescope; though I fear it’s only a matter of time until they do. 

I’m not as sexually daring as Idris but I refuse to punk out of this. He thinks that I’ll back out of stargazing simply because we’re in a public place where people can hear us? Let's be clear, I absolutely would, but the way my competitive nature is set up, I’ll stargaze with him. Shit, he better be ready to see the milky way too, cause I’ll be damned if I don’t make him cry for me. 

“You know what daddy, drop em,” I demanded, chin pointing toward his pants. “Gone ahead and give me something shiny to see.”

To say that he was shocked would be an understatement, bug eyed and eager as he runs his tongue across those juicy lips. He doesn’t let that falter him for long and makes quick work of the buckle of his pants. And my God if that action isn’t my personal little aphrodisiac. 

Knees hitting the floor, I watch in awe as his dick springs free, pre cum slowly dribbling from the tip. 

“You this wet already for me?” I tease. “Tell me exactly how you want it.”

“Use your mouth.”

“Nuh uh, use your words,” I insist. 

“Start by getting the tip nice and drenched for me angel,” Idris lamented. 

Inching closer to the head, I open my mouth and spit on it, watching intently as it trails down to the floor. 

“Now what?”

Smirking, he asks me to drain his balls entirely and I work on doing just that. 

Gathering the tip of his penis in my mouth,  I use the wetness to help me suction him. Cheeks hallowed and teeth tucked, I make sure to maximize on his sensitivity; tongue twirling around that mini slit lined at the head. 

His thighs quake ever so slightly, which only pushes me to suck in earnest, making sure to keep the tip nestled against my tongue. 

Fingers cradled behind me, I lock them together, opting instead for hands free head so I can really talk my shit once we’re done. 

Deciding it’s time to show some love to the rest of his lengthy member, I slow my ministrations and softly run my tongue along his shaft; tracing each thick and hardened vein - starstruck at Idris’ skin, a rich shade of chestnut. 

This part always gives me some trouble, but I’m willing to sacrifice a little comfort if it means I can hear him sing for me; and quite frankly he’s not doing enough of it. 

Bobbing my head steadily, it takes a minute for me to gain some traction, mouth now sliding along his dick with ease. His hips start a slow thrust and I bounce my head a little quicker, twisting from side to side as I do so. 

Finally, it’s drenched enough for me to take the entirety of him, stopping only when I reach the base of his shaft. His dick is properly lodged down my throat and I do everything I can to breathe through my nose, slight gagging noises making its way past my lips. 

As quiet as he tries to be, the harsh hissing that meets my ear encourages me to make quick work of him, bobbing in short, rapid successions, listening intently as his groans turn into quiet moans. 

Face planted against his coily pubes, they’re trimmed to perfection, the tropical notes of his coconut body wash lingering inside my nose. The deep, onyx color glistens with a mixture of precum and spit, similar to that of stars littered against the never ending black hole of space, as they softly tickle my cheeks.

Dislodging him completely to take a much needed breath, the cool air feels icy against my drool ridden chin. Tears brimmed at my eyes and pussy clenching against fabric, this dressing room is fixing to see way more than just changing of the clothes. 

“You wanna cum?” I taunted. “Make those pretty noises for me and I just might let you.”

Dick jumping in anticipation, I decide to head down south and give a little love to the overlooked - his ball sac. 

Slurping them in my mouth, I swish them around, mapping over the textured skin. His girthy member sits on my forehead, wet and dripping; adding to the soaked mess down under. 

I get a light hum in return and suction him to a the very fine line of pleasure and pain. A breathy moan follows and his hand soon finds itself planted at the root of my scalp. 

Thankfully he cant see the smirk that lines my lips and I give his balls a few more swirls before I set them free with a loud pop. 

“Haaaah”, is the desperate whine that I hear above me, but somehow I need more. 

Dick once again at the bottom of my throat I remove it until I get to the very tip and slam it back down again. 

“Just like that daddy, keep it up and I can make it real good for you.” 

*slurp*

“What’s my name? Huh? Let these bitches know who’s making you quiver like the slut you are.”

*slurp*

“C’mon and cum for me like I know you can, Idris.”

The fingers once tangled in my hair soon find themselves wrapped around my throat, squeezing me with just enough pressure to remind me how little control I actually have here. And while it was fun while it lasted, feminism doesn't exist with his hand around my neck. 

“Open wide for me angel.”

Tongue slithering past my teeth, I lay it flat for a full display, watching intently as he jerks himself to the finish line and in my mouth. 

He shouts his release, a little higher in pitch than I expected, chanting my name like the prayer it is. 

“Now close your mouth and swallow like I know you can,” he grunted. 

[desired-fantasy-writings]

Dru Gru Romantic Headcanons

Requested by: Nobody Warnings: None Readers Gender: Gender Neutral Fanfic Type: Headcanons Fanfic Genre: Fluff Word Count: 869

A/N: I know Dru is a old man but gosh he's such a cutie I cant help but love this character- hear me out-

• Due to how Dru grew up with his father always reminding him of being a failure for every second of his life, he grew overly clingy to people who ever remotely liked him platonically or romantically. Was often left alone having no friends and all. He was homeschooled, so he did his own thing by himself as a kid since his father didn't allow anyone into the mansion without his say so. Let's just say his father was very distrusting with people, only person he could trust was Fritz.

• Dru is not really experienced in romance, but he does his best to learn how to be a perfect partner! Romantic encounters were always very rare for Dru, if you could even call them that… The so called few who were interested were only interested in money, you know, those type of toxic people. Those encounters still stick with Dru… often making him feel insecure and paranoid, since he gave his heart, mind, and soul to the people “interested” in him, seeing their interest in him as genuine.. He didn't read the room in time and got hurt in the end emotionally. Falls for people too quickly, an absolute hopeless romantic.

• Speaking of emotional, he's very emotional, more so then Gru who isn't really. Being emotional doesn't mean it's always a negative of course, but it definitely makes certain situations a bit more challenging for Dru.

• Persuading Dru romantically would be a challenge, since he's quite dense when it comes to love, and due to his past experiences with it as I explained - as friendly and sweet as he may seem, he keeps a lot of his true self tucked away, afraid of being hurt again, so I’ll be definitely a slow process before anything romantic would come about.

• Dru’s always down to be anyone's friend, but being romantically pursued or romantically seeking someone? Help the poor lad he doesn't know what to do or how to respond.

• Like he does with people he cares about, he also rubs his face against his lover…. way more often, and afterwards kisses. Continuous hugs, he’s needy and lonely. If his S/O isn't the physically affectionate type, well they better adapt. Dru’s a total cuddle bug. 100% his love language.

• Also gift giving too. He would go way overboard often. If he sees something his S/O likes he’ll look for anything else like it and buy it for them as a surprise. Always has treats he gives his S/O too making sure they're properly fed and loved. Being a gift giver Christmas and birthdays is his favourite times of the year.

• Dru started a tradition of dressing up as “evil” Santa and cause mischief around the neighbourhood for fun a week before Christmas. His nieces, mostly Edith, drag Dru’s S/O into their “festivities” causing mayham. Pretty innocent pranks and mischief.

• Dru may be considered a villan despite his villainous nature, but gosh he's so loving and protective. Pure and true and would never truly hurt anyone unless provoked to do so. Dru is just a thief with only some morals, well, close to morally grey but not really. If anyone hurt Dru’s family or S/O, though usually a coward, turns into a knight of shining armour. That's were his skills really come into play, usually holding himself back due to low confidence outside of that, he doesn't when it comes to protecting his loved ones.

• Still learning boundaries. If he has a not so physically affectionate partner, he can completely miss the boundaries quite a lot in the moment, oblivious to his partner's discomfort. Always profusely apologises after and making up for it by giving them space. He just can't help himself to be close to his S/O… he loves their touch.

• Same thing if his partner doesn't want to talk about something that's bothering them. Sometimes he can read the room of the tense vibes, so he often accidentally pressures his partner to share what's going on, not out of anything malicious he has good intentions even if it's not the best decision to choose at the moment, so communication is key for being in a relationship with Dru as he often misses social cues. Doesn't do it on purpose that's just how he is.

• If his S/O is sad, bothered, any uncomfy feeling, as Dru has done many times before, wallow in silence while eating ice cream in bed with them, or whatever his partner may like that's a comfort food for them.

• Supppperrr affectionate and sweet, very wholesome, obviously, also obnoxiously affectionate, but he always means well. Wants a family of his own one day. If his S/O doesn't he's fine with accepting that fact… yet it doesn't take away the fact that he’s a family man at heart, but would rather make his S/O happy if it meant not having one.

• Loves loves LOVES taking his S/O on dates. His favourites are when they're at the beach… or when they're doing a heist together as they're running for their lives with loads of loot with the help of minions. He sees it as a "romantic date” what a goober.

[password-door-lock]

“Boss,” you stammer, slamming the door to the intelligence room behind you. “Bossbossbossbossboss.” It comes out sounding like one very, very long word as you practically catapult yourself into Unknown's arms.

He didn't ask you to do that, but he doesn't particularly mind— it seems like you know your place at Magenta: on his lap, where he can keep an eye on you and stop you from wreaking whatever havoc you've got your heart set on at the moment. “What is it?” He asks, expecting more of the same nonsense that you always try to serve him in moments such as this one.

“Okay, so, as you know, you told me to go find something useful to do and leave you alone,” you recount, “Presumably because you're doing something so horrible that you don't even want me to see it, which says an awful lot, considering all the shit you've let me see already.” You're not entirely wrong there, but Unknown doesn't bother letting you know. You can press as much as you want, but he's never going to give you any more information than he sees fit.

“Yes,” Unknown agrees instead, nebulously allowing you to fill in the blanks for yourself. A month ago, he would have been certain that you'd make up some nonsense and be wrong about it, but he has learned that it's better not to underestimate you. His assistant is many things, but stupid is not one of them. Unobservant, perhaps. Dependent, of course. Annoying, even— but never stupid.

“Right,” you shake your head, before promptly nestling into his embrace as if you're seeking comfort. You're wildly misguided if you think you're going to get it from him— but, then, Unknown doesn't need to tell you that. “Well, anyway. So I thought, why don't I clean the water heater?”

“What water heater?” Unknown has never seen anything like that during his time at Magenta, and he's spent quite a while here.

“It's in the basement,” you wave him off, like it means nothing that you went down there without his permission. “There's this little door, and it's blocked with this cart thing, so I unblocked it, and then there's this tiny room with just this water heater that's like, well, you know, it heats water— anyway, it takes up half the room, and—”

“Did I tell you to go down there?” Unknown tightens his grip on you. If you'd been in the basement at the wrong time, you could have seen something much worse than what would have been on his screen had you stayed by his side. And the fact that you knew enough about the water heater to think of cleaning it suggests that you’ve been down there before and seen it already— he isn’t pleased with this development. Does he really have to keep an eye on you all the time to stop you from causing trouble?

“You said to be useful,” you counter, “And I was being useful.”

Unknown groans. “Then what's the matter?” He has no idea what you saw or who you ran into. The basement is not a pretty place, after all, and you’re quite timid, all things considered. If he wanted you to go down there, then he would have sent you himself. 

“I saw a bug!” You squeal, dramatic as always. “And it was terrifying. Comfort me.” 

It irks him that you think you get to give him orders, but nevertheless, Unknown heaves a sigh of relief. He can't believe he was ever actually that worried over his assistant— as if anyone in paradise would be enough of a fool to lay a hand on you. With the exception of the Savior, nobody around here would even think of trying something like that. And you wouldn't have stalled so long if anything had happened, anyway... you'd have called him to the scene immediately, and Unknown would have dealt with it on the spot. “That's it? You see bugs every day, prince(ss). I’m not going to coddle you every time.” 

“Yes, but this one was technically in my home,” you protest with a shudder, “So it’s at least five times scarier. And it was huge— I think it was some kind of cockroach or something.” 

“Hm.” Unknown considers this information. He doesn’t really follow, but he also doesn’t want to prolong this bug discussion any longer than he has to. It’s better if you just drop it and let him get back to work. 

“Anyway, it ran in front of the water heater as soon as I opened the door,” you complain, “I don’t know how the hell it got in there, or if there’s others, or anything like that—  I just slammed the door and blocked it again, and then ran back here as fast as I could to tell you that there's a bug by the water heater, which I did not clean. For your information.”

Unknown huffs. Honestly, he should have known better than to turn you loose in the first place. Even if he had explicitly told you to avoid the basement, you would have found a way down there anyway. You may be more clever than he originally gave you credit for, but that doesn’t seem to have much bearing on your listening skills, which have proven to be severely lacking.

“That's why we don't go sticking our nose where it doesn't belong,” he purrs, enjoying the way that you retreat entirely into his embrace, pressing your face against his chest. Yes, that's how it should be... you should depend on him, rely on him, revel in the feeling of his attention, his fingers in your hair or his lips against your ear. You should be his, wholly and completely, bending to his whims and changing your shape to fit inside of his grasp. That's the only way. “Just stay with me, assistant. I'll look after you, since you can't figure out how to do it yourself.” If your reaction to a single cockroach was so passionate, he can’t imagine what you would have done if you’d actually encountered something scary— but if he keeps you here, then neither one of you will ever have to find out. 

“Sure,” your soft concession feels like a victory. Unknown just hums in response, returning to his work as you continue to cling to him. He won’t comfort you, of course, but he will allow himself to give you this.

[imaginelovewrite]

A price for peace part two

The palace halls of elfhame are gilded in gold and crowned in silver, gemmed flowers decorate it. A crowd of courtiers murmur in the room. Their eyes bright. They look for fresh gossip, as the king of elfhame sits on his throne. He has summoned his youngest son.

Enough of a rarity that Courtiers wonder if he is here for punishment or a reward.

a pretty noble woman named Driclellewhose skin is pink as a petunia and whose eyes are bright with hunger whispersWhat do you think the prince is summoned for?

Conrad a nobleman who would be considered handsome by humans if not for his bug like eyes says Idon’t know. But I hear the princess of the undersea was summoned as well

another woman named Forstyhia with gills on her neck wearing a dress so see through you can see the hairs of her pussy chuckles. “that’s nothing, I heard the general’s ward was summoned”

Both Conrad and Dricielle gasp. “No!” They say at the same time

“Yes!” Forsythia says.

“You think the king will make her his whore?”

Conrad who had been hoping to make one of the general’s wards one of his mistresses has a dirty smile on his face. “I hope the king is fond of sharing.”

.

The doors swing open Cardan’s POV

“Father.” I say bowing. The high king looks at me as if I’m garbage. I wonder if rolling my eyes would be considered treason. He does acknowledge me with a “son.” Though the words sound bitter and resentful coming from his lips.

My gaze goes to the blue haired Baphen. Who, to his credit has his eyes meet the floor. The astrologer is dressed in a purple robe of stars. The very same outfit he was said to wear when he ruined my life.

I continue to stare holes into the man, who seems to be sweating. A smirk enters my lips. Good. He should feel guilty for ruining my life. He didn’t interpret the full scope of the prophecy. And for that I have lived unloved and uncared the moment I was born.

Finally I turn my attention to father. “Why am I here?” I find myself relieved my voice sounds bored and uncaring. I am anything but. Father only summons me for revels, family feasts or punishment. And there is no revel or feasts right now. I can feel my heart thump against my chest.

High king Eldred gives a satisfied smirk. I want to rip that smirk off my father’s face.

The door swings open again.

I turn and see both Grand general Madoc and his ward Jude Duarte. The grand general is dressed in a red doublet and black pants. He is a large man with fangs. His eyes settle on me. I can feel his glare. But my attention is to the girl beside him.

Jude Duarte the ward of grand general Madoc. She is an exquisitely lovely girl whose willow brown hair soft brown eyes make her seem doll-like. Her shapely figure shows even in the modest white dress she wears. The noble men all look at her with lusts. But at a distance as the grand general is very protective of his ward. His sharp sword causes many of them to back away

I can’t stop looking at her however. I can feel my pants tighten, as I wonder what it would be like to rip that dress off her body. To feel her smooth skin against mine. I must be blatantly ogling her. Madoc’s blood lust can be felt a mile away, his sword is slightly unsheathe.

I know what the male courtiers are all thinking as Madoc’s attention focuses on me. That they’re glad they’re not me at the moment.

Jude keeps staring at me. There is a look of hate in her eyes. Not that I can blame her. Just yesterday I threw her down a river. I know she thinks the worse of me.

Madoc’s blood lust has gotten more volatile. I know for certain he is thinking of killing me right now.

Eldred watches this go on. A vein bulges in his head. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking my idiot son…. Good for nothing. But he coughs and our entire attention is on him. “We have one more quest.” He says, his voice booming down the halls.

There is a nervous titter among the courtiers. When the door opens again.

Nicasia the princess of the undersea. Orlaugh’s daughter is a great beauty in faerie. Her body exactly like what a faerie woman is, flat chested long limbs and coral pink lips. She gives Jude a haughty smile as she sees the get up Jude is wearing. Nicasia wears a dress so transparent it shows of her skin.

Jude’s hand shake. She knows her mortal body is very different from the bodies of fae. Her hands shake as the women give her cruel smiles. Their eyes judging at how her breast stand out even in this modest dress, how her curves still show.

But Jude must know, her body is provocative. That all fae men are attracted to her. They don’t bother to hide the lusts in their eyes after all.

Nicasia is looking at my father. And I know what she’s thinking “When I am queen I will have your head.” He hate is obvious. In fact I see father smirk. He must enjoy this. Enjoy having the princess in his power. When Nicasia turns to Madoc, there is so much anger and rage, I know she wants to kill him. Madoc however does not flinch.

Eldred his voice booming down the halls all looks at them. There is a magnanimous smile on his face. It puts the four of us summoned on edge. That type of smile on a king, usually meant punishment. Eldred’s eyes land on Jude. She visibly flinches. I see her hand shake.

It takes a while for me to understand. She’s terrified. Eldred’s lips curl into a smile. It takes me one second, one second longer than it should to realize his enjoying this. Father is enjoying this. Having Jude and everyone under his mercy.

Well since father hates me anyway, I wonder if I should punch him in the jaw.

Father’s eyes glitter with mirth. He loves having a beautiful girl on his mercy. A gnawing feeling hits me. What if Father wishes to make Jude his consort?” I shake my head at the thought. Surely Jude is too young for even father to stomach it. There is a grin on father’s face as he looks at me.

Son of a bitch. Now I will enjoy destroying that crown he loves so much. “Grand general Madoc, to honor you for your defeat of the undersea.” Nicasia cannot hide her rage and humiliation. She is trembling. There are a few snorts I hear from the gentry.

They hate Nicasia as they all hate the undersea. They love seeing her brought down. “You are to marry Princess Nicasia and Prince Cardan shall marry your ward Jude Duarte!”

[dragonciphering]

Okay so I’ve been having brain rot over MP100 ageswap!au but with Reigen and Mogami as friends. Here’s some of my headcannons so far.

Reigen has known Mogami sense he was 5yrs and can kinda sense his aura. But thinks that he’s just associating certain smells/colors with him.

Mogami’s aura feels more ‘friendly’ or ‘not as dangerous’ to Reigen then it might for others. (This fic describes how I would imagine Mogami’s aura)

Reigen either knows that Mogami is a psychic or is told by Mogami that he is one and they figure out/test out his abilities together.

The first time that Mogami astral-projects it gives Reigen a heart attack. And that causes Reigen to repeatedly poke his deadweight body with a stick ‘As revenge.’ until Mogami can find his way back into his body.

Mogami despite being a spirit (he’s not dead, but his spirit is out of his body) whacks him upside the head for that.

‘Hey! I’ll have you know that my reaction was justified! The way your body just….ragdolled was freaky’

‘So you poked my body multiple times without knowing what might of happened?’

‘Would you rather I had tried to get you to respond by pouring water on you or something?’

‘…I should’ve hit you harder…’

I love the idea of Ritsu, a grown ass adult, having beef with Reigen….But can you imagine the hilarity of Mogami having beef with Teru?

Like the first time they meet Teru, Mogami immediately tries to either exercise or de-curse him because:

‘There is no way in hell that someone made a conscious decision to wear that. I refuse to believe it.’ 

Reigen doesn’t try to stop him. He’s too busy trying to get his eyes to work again from seeing, in his words,

‘The ugliest, biggest, and most hurtful fashion disaster since Cat in the Hat, Barney and Chuck E Cheeze.’

Teru is frozen. He sheds a single tear while his remaining pride is verbally demolished by two 14 year olds. Shou, Dimple, and Tome can be heard cackling in the background. Even Ritsu let’s out a laugh.

‘Like your one to laugh Ritsu—”

‘What did you just say to me you child!?’

Ritsu had to be stopped from throwing hands by Dimple. Shou and Tome were to busy wheezing on the floor to do anything, while Teri was still having a crisis.

Mogami knows a lot of oddly terrifying knowledge about birds and bugs. No one know where he gets this information.

Reigen likes asking him questions/listening to him talking about them because it’s one one of the few times that he is the listener, but also because it’s only of the few times that Mogami outwardly looks genuinely passionate and happy.

They both have influenced each other’s mannerisms.

Mogami’s one is when he’s exasperated he copy’s Reigen hand gesture and does this. Or this.

Reigen’s one is his deadpan stare/unaffected look that he is almost always seen having on his face. Except when, y’know, he doesn’t.

Reigen still is unbeatable at rock, paper, scissors. And yes, Mogami will die mad about that. It one of the few things that he will put aside his grudges against someone for.

‘Listen up Teruki Hanazawa, because I will only say this once. DO. NOT. CHALLENGE. ARATAKA. TO. A. ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS. GAME.’

‘Wha—’

‘I am only telling you this for your own sake….and so you can’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Mogami then walked away without saying anything else with a murder of crows deciding that, that specific moment was the time to caw ominously. And leaving a confused and slightly terrified Teru behind.

@choogoo

@mp100days

@mobofficial

@modmad

@phantomrose96

@sandflakedraws

@ohwwhuv

@idl3nova

(Thought you guys might want to be @‘d :D)

[spiced-koi-friend]

Face Card

Ruze won't let up with the teasing, and it's making it rather difficult to get anything done. Gabriel hopes he means well, because he can't help but feel paranoid about all of this still. But you being here makes it better, at least a little bit.

Previous Chapter

Assassin!Goldbullet x Politician!F!Reader, TW: none Words: 1738 | Rating: R | AO3

The rest of the day seems to go by without much of a hitch, although when he’s the threat that he’s supposed to be protecting you from, it’s more of a matter of self control than looking for sneaky assailants. The other guys are chill, although when he’s been placed as one of your personal bodyguards, it is a bit difficult to have much of a chance to talk with them. Ruze keeps elbowing him in the ribs and pushing him into you, Gabriel feeling real bad when he tumbled into you and you got a face full of titty. One minute you’re looking at the mayor’s tits through your sniper scope, the next you’re giving her an up close and personal view of your own. Some may say that’s a fair bargain, but Gabriel wanted to shove Ruze’s face into a brick wall for that.

He has no doubt that this is making it difficult for both of you to work when Ruze keeps pushing you together like dolls. But he’s gone through extensive anti-torture resilience training. Gabriel will not let something as simple as a bastard of a boss trying to get him alone with the mayor. Which, does Ruze work for Altare? Is he trying to give him an opportunity to take you out, and he’s just far too flustered to realize what he’s trying to do? Has he caught onto him and is trying to trap him in it so he can be taken out?

…

Ruze is rather proud of himself, crossing his arms as he grins and leans against the wall. Managed to get the two of you blushing and red once again. It’s turning into a bit of a game of how often he can fluster the two of you and make you personally as unproductive as possible.

“Hey! Back to work! This place won’t run itself, at least not with me nearly catching the two of you kissing all the time! Augh, making me third wheel is the worst. You guys are the worst.”

“Ruze, I sign your paycheques. Shut the actual fuck up.”

“How about this, I’ll go grab us some coffees, and the two of you will have to suffer the silence that comes with my lack of a presence. Remember to leave room for Elysium Jesus!”

Normally he’d not want to leave you alone with a new recruit, but there’s something about how Goldie has been acting that makes him rather protective of you. There’s just a certain way he holds himself, how even when Ruze gets close that he stands up a bit straighter. Normally he’d be one to put a bitch in their place for staring daggers at him, but the look of adoration he gives you when you’re the focus of his attention kind of gives it away. Ruze just figures that he’s your secret boyfriend and you just hadn’t told him yet. Until you confess, he’s just gonna continue to tease. 

He has absolutely no clue what Goldie likes in his coffee, but he’s been working for you long enough to know how to make yours while blinking and his hands tied behind his back. Not that he’s necessarily tried, but that’s not the point. Ruze does stop by Bettel’s desk, wanting a bit more dirt on Goldie to tease him about.

“Sup nerd.”

“Ruze, why do I sense you’ve been banished out here for causing problems?”

“Because you’ve been working here for basically the same amount of time that I’ve been. Little ol’ Betsy doesn’t want to look at this handsome mug?”

“You look better with your mask on.”

Ruze feigns offense, setting down the coffees to clutch his chest.

“My weakness! Being told I’m too pretty! Gotta keep my mask on to keep enough bitches for the rest of you.”

“It’d make my life easier, the last date I had was with the virtual assistant on my phone.”

“Bettel, buddy, you gotta get out. Go, I don’t know, lurk in a Taco Bell parking lot and just threaten someone with a knife until they go on a date with you. Or unleash bugs into their air vents when they say no.”

“That sounds like a good way to get arrested with a handful of felonies to boot. “

“Eh, I haven’t been arrested yet.”

Ruze cackles as he picks the coffees back up, incredibly amused by the look of horror on Bettel’s face. Never a dull day when there’s a clown in the lobby to entertain you. 

…

What did you do to deserve this treatment? Poor Gabriel keeps apologizing for Ruze pushing him into you at every chance he gets, even though you know damn well it’s Ruze. What is even worse, is that it’s not making your crush easier to get rid of, and that almost scares you as much as someone trying to kill you yesterday. Gabriel doesn’t even look at you once Ruze leaves the room, hiding beneath his hat and fiddling with his necklace.

“You know, I know that it’s Ruze. He has some, weird idea in his head thinking I like you or something weird like that. I mean- I do! I think you’re nice, and you seem passionate about your job. But he seems to think that there’s something more than that. Unfortunately I don’t have any better advice than just, endure him being a pill until he eventually gets bored of it. As soon as it stops being funny, he’ll just find something else. He’s probably just being a bit hard on you because you’re a closer assignment than the other boys. But you let me know if he’s picking on you, and I’ll give him an earful. Wouldn’t be the first time…”

“I’m okay, but I appreciate it. I’m a big boy, I can handle my own shit. If I couldn’t, well, I don’t think we’d be having this conversation, would we?”

“I suppose not. I just know he’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but he’s good at his job and he’s been keeping me safe for longer than I’ve been a mayor. Met back when I was still just campaigning, he volunteered himself for the position before I had even considered needing bodyguards. Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if Bettel chose so many of you because he wanted more people to talk to during the day. I’m just glad he enjoys talking that much because he’s very efficient on the phone.”

“I’m not everyone’s cup of tea either, although I don’t think anyone is. If you were perfect for everyone, you wouldn’t have Altare running against you, right?”

“That bastard. He just laid off a bunch of people from one of his companies to get more money to finance his campaign. And don’t get me started on his mutt of a head bodyguard. Might as well have gotten an actual dog, he literally barked at me at a debate.”

Gabriel laughs, brightening up a bit.

“I take it that Ruze didn’t take kindly to that?”

“Oh he just barked right back. He is not above barking at people either, he just prefers to use a weapon to scare people off instead.”

“Honestly, I bet that was more entertaining than the debate itself.”

“It was a little amusing having to hold them back, as no one else was really on stage. There technically was the venue security, but I don’t think any of them were brave enough to get in between Axel and Ruze when they were nearly at each other's throats.”

“So should I bring a dog leash or popcorn to the next debate.”

“No one collars the great Crimzon Ruze.”

You hold your face in your hands, actually enjoying being able to talk to Gabriel without Ruze’s supervision. He sets your coffee down in front of you, laughing when you flip him off in repayment. Gabriel smells the coffee, making a face.

“Not like I poisoned it, Goldie. Just drink the damn coffee.”

“You can never be sure! I had someone poison a muffin once, couldn’t eat them for like a year and a half after that. I guess unless I made them myself, but I'd rather make other foods. Pan de mallorca is a good one, that can go with like, anything.”

“Ooh! If you make any, I’d love to try some.”

You tried not to seem too enthusiastic, but the raised eyebrow from Ruze makes you realize perhaps your eagerness was a bit obvious. But Gabriel just smiles at you, and you get a glance at his canines, looking a bit sharper than you were expecting. Certainly not a downside though. 

“Yeah! I’d totally love to bring some in. I can’t promise any time soon, but I’ll save you at least one the next time I make a batch.”

“Already planning your next date without me? No bread for your best bud Ruze?”

“It’s just bread, Ruze.”

“Bullshit! I once ate two packages of hawaiian rolls that were accidentally delivered to my door and I regret nothing. It is never “just bread”, it is the essence of life.”

“Alright Ruze, I’ll bring you some too.”

“FUCK YEAH!”

The three of you can’t help but laugh at Ruze’s excitement, shaking your head at his behavior.

“Be glad Gabriel likes you, he’s been here for less than a day and you’ve been nothing but a pill to him!”

“So… do I need to try harder?”

…

Ruze hands Gabriel his business card, making him adjust his grip on his coffee to read it.

“Elysium’s greatest bodyguard and your least favorite professional. Ask me about my bugs.”

Gabriel takes a second to read it again, just to verify that yes, it does in fact say that.

“And you, hand these out to people?”

“If they piss me off enough. I usually don’t have enough time to do solo work anymore after I started working for the princess over here.”

“Oi! You volunteered to protect me!”

“Yeah, sorry buddy. She already spilled your tragic backstory.”

“Damnit!”

His cackle is nearly contagious, but it doesn’t help the conflict in Gabriel’s chest. He wanted to make a comment when you were trying to get him to feel better about Ruze’s teasing, but there was still part of him that wished you did like him, because maybe he could actually justify his own crush. Maybe Ruze isn’t setting him up, but it honestly won’t make any of this feel any less painful.

You just had to have that goddamn pretty face.

[mygloviesme]

cool about it. || myg

no. 4: get out of my head about it

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

summary: kanako is an established idol with a growing career and a secret relationship with a producer from her label, haneul. when she’s asked to work with yoongi and rm to create a track for her, she gains unexpected feelings for a certain upcoming rapper. with her increasing fame, her controlling boyfriend, a set of six boys who seem to have grown an attachment to her, and a new boy who’d give her the world, how will she figure out a way to balance it all?

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 2.6k

genre: ANGST, friends(?) to lovers, slow burn, lots of pining

chapter warnings: toxic relationship (not w/myg), mentions of mental health, grooming (not w/myg), age gap relationship (not w/myg)

inspo song: the bug collector song by haley heynderickx

JANUARY 30th, 2012, 9:14PM

I slump into my bed, my body aching with how much I’ve had to perform and rehearse this week. And I’ll have to persevere through much more. It’s been a great way to distract myself from the breakup, though. If I busy myself with all of these responsibilities then I won’t have any time to think about how me and Haneul have broken up. 

Until night falls, that is. When I come home at the end of the day and lie awake for a good hour more than I should, thinking of everything that I did wrong. Everything that went wrong. The bruise on my wrist hit its peak mid-week, having to lie to my makeup artists, saying it was an accident and to please cover it up. But it’s grown fainter, little by little. One zoom in though, would cause a domino effect of theories with my fans. 

They’re all oblivious to my ex-relationship, given all the times he publicly humiliated me in front of pedestrians and workers. You would think something would have ricocheted and sent my career plummeting at this point, but I could really only thank God I’m still surviving. Or, my long list of events I have to attend this week that make a good distraction for them as well as me. 

Haneul didn’t send one message after our call last week. In fact, he’s blocked me everywhere I could ever contact him. I know that because of my pathetic begging for him to take me back on messages, the hard-hitting red words flashing underneath my message soon after. This message is unable to be sent. It’s so stupid, I know. All he did to me and more, and I still need him back. I haven’t known anything else besides Haneul. He’s my guidance, my angel, my counselor. But to him I’m merely a disobedient dog he likes to cage when need be. He likes seeing me with my head down and my hands by my sides, waiting eagerly for his orders. He liked pointing out everything I did wrong when I finally thought I did something right. He would twist me up in a jumbled-knotted mess and expect me to untangle myself. 

I feel so starved at this moment. The Seoul lights have dimmed from my blackout curtains, the noise of the cars and drunk pedestrians is lackluster. I feel no motivation to continue my success. How can someone like him do this much to me? If only people could see through my  facade and see me crying for help. I’ll never have the strength to do it myself. Even when my fingers are grazing my phone, wanting to click that number that I know belongs to Jungkook, I don’t do it. I just feel like a burden, like a nuisance.

It’s okay to do this all by myself. That’s how it’s been, hasn’t it? It doesn’t have to change. Spare others from seeing the real you, the one who accepts this fucked-up love you think you deserve. It’ll only scare them away to see how rotten you are inside. 

You’re sick, you’re sick, you’re sick. 

JANUARY 31ST, 2012, 7:25AM

In an attempt to escape my brain I take an early morning stroll beside the Han River. With a beanie and glasses and a face mask, of course. There are people on bikes, runners, some with dogs on a leash, just enjoying the crisp winter air. I don’t have many events to attend today, just two interviews and a few promotional videos to make. It’s an awfully quiet morning which most of the time I would consider a nightmare, simply because I get bombarded with my pessimistic thoughts. 

But this morning is different, the quiet is singing and humming. My heart feels heavy but the frozen river is truly a sight to see, so like a warm hand picking up my falling soul,  it holds me carefully. Just like how my mother would when we would visit this same river.  I remember coming back here after she passed, wondering why everything looked the exact same. Why did nothing change? Why isn’t the earth cracking in two, with melting lava burning into the trees and grass? Why isn’t the whole country breaking in a frenzy, running away from this wretched city like there’s been a national alarm set off? I’ve always had a complicated relationship with this place after she died. 

I felt like a ghost floating around, spooking the wayfarers, dogs, the plants. My eyebags had sunken into place and my fingers were defected and dry. Everything was meaningless, pointless. 

Why did I ever choose to come back to the industry?

“Hey.” I hear, looking to my right. My eyes browse to hear where it came, soon seeing a familiar, tall body. I take my glasses off and see him fully, Namjoon. He has one foot on his bike to balance himself, both hands resting on the handle bars. 

“I thought it was you.” He speaks rather quietly.

I nod and give a half-assed smile. It’s no offense to him, I’m just really not feeling like talking right now. I move my hands in my pockets and part them almost sarcastically, “The one and only.” I try to chuckle. I need to try harder.

I look him up and down, seeing him in sweat shorts, high socks and a coat. “Isn't it too cold to be wearing shorts?” I tease him. He shrugs, “The coat balances everything out.” 

Now that’s girl math. 

The quietude envelops the both of us, and we both seem to look over to the river. He doesn’t look at me as he speaks again, “I was hoping you’d stop by again. I mean, all of us hoped.” He says. Our eyes continue to lock afar and I take a small breath. It’s validating to hear him say that, to think that. It opens a door that I want to enter but I’m too scared to. Genuine friendship. There are so many things that could go wrong, but they make me feel safe. Being in that small room, the borrowed clothes, the yogurt. I seem to get caught up in the small motions. I need to slow down. 

“I didn’t think I made much of an impression.” I say honestly. I barely spoke to any of them, why did they want me back?

“Well, we just like your company. We’ve been together in that dorm for a while and it was nice to have someone new.” His head turns to me, and I stare into the frozen body of water. I feel his eyes glaze over my profile, kindly. It’s odd to be looked at this way, like I’m being admired. In a way where there’s no ill intention. Just curiosity. I bite my tongue to stop myself from saying something of substance, instead trailing my eyes back down to my shoes. 

“I’m just, uh, really busy. I’ll let you know when I can.” I say, giving him a smile and wave before turning on my heels and walking away. I put my glasses back on and bite the inside of my cheek, attempting to postpone the tears I feel crawling out of me. Rejection, rejection, rejection. It’s something I don’t do often, but when it happens, it’s never the right thing. I can never accept what’s good for me, only what’s wrong. My morals are screwed and so is my future, I know it. 

I’ve been bound to this deep insecurity for what feels like decades, and the shackles are growing on me. The comfort and security of being six feet under my own personality is more digestible than something I haven’t known in a while, happiness. 

Maybe I’ll just sink lower into my subconscious this time. If someone who knew me, truly, didn’t want me anymore, who would? Everything is so surface level, dinner, games, playful glances. I need to retract from everything that shows an ounce of myself from now. 

Happy, young Kanako. Excited to be here, Kanako. Everyone’s little sister, Kanako. 

Just nothing now. No more of this anymore. I don’t exist off screen. Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t think of me. I don’t think I can handle it. 

FEBRUARY 10TH, 2012, 11:00AM

After a while of working, sleeping, working, sleeping I now sit in a conference room in the BigHit building. There’s publicists, lawyers, staff, and Bang-PD sitting at the very end of the long table, playing with his steel ink pen. I sit right at the other end as the table stays idle in utter silence. 

I’m not sure why I’ve been called to this meeting, but something stirs inside me. A windstorm, a growing tsunami. Bang hasn’t looked at me once. 

He clears his throat, “There has been something that’s come to our attention, Kanako. Two things.” He says. Everyone takes quick glimpses at me nervously, like they’re about to face the deconstructing of Kanako Fujishima. I nod slowly at him but he keeps his head down. He flips through his binder for a while until he reaches a glossy, zoomed in photo. He turns it over and places his finger under his chin, propping his elbow on the table. 

“Is this you?” He asks, pointing at the photo. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

It’s me in one of the halls of this very building. One with Haneul’s tongue down my throat. The photo isn’t of great quality, but that’s me. In front of the studio room. 

“And is that Haneul?” He follows. 

My breath shakes and I gulp quietly, my hand trailing to my mouth. There’s tears. Oh God, there’s tears. They’re running down my face like a landslide. I’m getting overly emotional in front of these very professional people. It’s painful seeing me in the photo in such a compromising position. But it’s me and it’s him. “Kanako-” he starts. 

“It’s me. It’s me and Haneul.” I word vomit, the letters of my sentence feeling like they’ve pooled the table. I tuck my hands between my thighs and look down. The buttoned-up witnesses stay quiet and watch me as I unravel. 

“Kanako…this is…” Bang whispers. 

I nod quickly, “Yes, yes I know. It was a mistake but it’s over between us. I know I’ve compromised my career and I’m so sorry.” I choke out. The man across from me sets down his hand and sighs. 

“You’re right, this is a huge risk. But…that’s not necessarily what’s at hand.” He says lowly. 

I tuck my hair behind my ear and move my head slowly, meeting his eyes. There’s a small string snot that dribbles down, embarrassingly. I wipe it off and sniffle. “What do you mean?” I ask. 

He clasps his hands together and interlaces them, “We spoke to Haneul. He said he started dating you when you were 17. Which would be illegal if…” He motions his hand, not finishing the painful sentence. I swallow, nodding slowly. “It’s my fault. I initiated it first. I take all of the blame, I promise.” I whisper again. Pd-nim shakes his head. 

“You aren’t at fault, Kanako. He was the…adult. He should’ve known better. The question is, are you wanting to..” He coughs and adjusts his papers out of what I assume to be nervousness. 

“-Press charges?” He concludes.  I perk my head in confusion. Press charges? What, like he took advantage of me? Like he should go to prison? I’m not that young and naive. I knew what I was doing. I knew full well.

“No, no. That’s not what I want at all. At all. He didn’t do anything wrong, it was me. I seduced him, I'm the one that wanted this.” I plead. I see a woman in the corner of my eye adjust her glasses. She leans towards me, “Kanako, we need you to know that what he did wasn’t right. You…do know that, right?” Her eyes follow down to my wrist that’s still wrapped with the faintest purple. But it’s there, and she recognizes it. I tuck my hand beneath the table once again. 

I look her in the eyes, “I don’t think he did anything wrong. It would just be pointless drama if I pressed charges. Nothing happened. It was dumb, and I apologize.” I finalize. It seems the table succumbs to my words. The woman gives me a vague smile and leans back into her chair. 

“One other thing, Kanako.” Bang-PD speaks. “We’ve decided to let Haneul go. We thought what he did did not align with our beliefs and core values here at BigHit. For your safety and the safety of other trainees, we made the decision earlier this morning.” He says. 

My ears ring. My head spins. I blink slowly and stare at my hands, “Other trainees?” I say in one breath. I look to the table of staff, seeing some look at me with pity, others staring off. This is…

Bang writes something down on his paper and clicks his pen, setting it down. 

“There were other girls who admitted that he had been involved with them as well. I know it’s hard to hear Kanako, but I assure you…” He continues, but it’s all cloudy. I shut my eyes in an attempt to ward off the thoughts that circle in my head like a rainstorm. I feel I’ve been caught in a forest fire but I don’t want to leave. I want to go down with this ship, I want to be a brave soldier and die valiantly. I want to be here, right where he left me. 

There were others. There were others. There were others. Girls. 

“H-How young?” I mutter. 

PD-nim purses his lips, “I’m unsure if that's necessary for you to know that.” 

I shake my head and laugh quietly, manically. “How young were the others?”

“The youngest was fifteen.” 

His words pierce through me. I’m at fault, I’m sure of it. This suddenly became something bigger than me, and I could’ve stopped it. I was a coward, how could I want him back? How did I not know? How could I be so stupid?

“I’m so stupid.” I speak aloud, unknowing of it. I feel a hand on my arm and it’s the woman with glasses. Her touch is warm even if the tips of her fingers are cold. This touch is caring, it isn’t taking advantage of me. It’s like she’s consoling a child. Like she’s ready to take me in her arms and tuck me into bed. The table seems speechless, like they have been this entire time. My tears pool onto my lap like a deep river, reminding me of the body of water I was at just a while ago, not knowing then that my world could get worse than it already was. I’m alone again, all alone. Nobody is here, not even this woman with her soothing caress or Bang-PD who looks at me like I’m a wounded fawn.

And finally, I succumb to this childish feeling. At last I let myself mourn my innocence and my long-lasting maturity I’d been thrown to after my mother died. I’ve painted a picture for myself, I’ve made my bed and now all I want to do is lie in it. I want to learn what it is to be young and carefree. I want to break free from the iron bars of being a child that’s mentally years beyond her age. 

I place my hand on the woman’s, looking up to Bang-PD. 

“I think I just need…help.” 

His expression softens, “That can be arranged.” 

click here to read more of this story!

[tommybowefuneralattendee]

Hey there

any advice for someone who's writing their first fan fic (me)

totally! lemme give you some quick tippies and if you have any specific problem you want my perspective on, let me know! i decided that five was a good round number, but i'm sure i have more to say if you need me to scare something up~

remember that you are doing this for fun. if it sucks, hit the bricks. leaving a wip half done and saving it for a you that actually loves the story can sometimes help a lot. there are times when you need to push through the difficulties of writing, but if it is genuinely causing you distress, maybe we should consider taking a lil break with another project.

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remember that you are doing this for free. you do not owe a certain quality or quantity or consistency of posting to anyone, and if someone makes you feel like you do, that's a them problem and not a you problem. publish whatever word count, or number of chapters, or fragments of plot that you want to upload. fanfiction is, for the most part, free. do whatever the fuck you want forever.

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if there is a scene that you are writing an entire fic for, try writing the scene first. oftentimes i find i build things up and up and up in my head and so i have to write these 10k words of build up, i have to have more scene exposition, when sincerely, you might find if you get right into it that the scene is capable of standing alone, and even if such is not the case, now you have a scene written here that illustrates the point of the piece, if that makes sense.

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if something you desperately want to write feels out of character, try changing the language around the action. like say- maybe it seems like this character wouldn't lie to their spouse about something important- what's their reasoning for it? how would they rationalize that action to themself? if you have actions you want to be completed, assume that the character is already doing what you want. you just have to let the reader know why.

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the voice is never quite going to sound right. the perspective is always going to feel a little off. that's not a bug of your writing, that is a feature. that is the little bit of you that you are putting in your story, turns of phrase that people only use in your area, potential perspective that the pov might not have but you do, incorporating that is part of the art of fanfiction. we are all creating something new from a previously completed tapestry. all of the pieces are going to be different. this is a feature. this is your contribution to the culture of fandom. don't make it any less than yourself

[perfectlywrongformend3s]

Girls-Robin Buckley

A/n: Two one-shots with Robin back to back. I'm so sorry, but I can't help it. I just love Robin's personality okay any way, this ones also based off of a song. So please enjoy.

Song: Girls

Written: girl in red

-Samantha

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'I've been hiding for so long,These feelings, they're not gone,Can I tell anyone? Afraid of what they'll say, so I push them away, I'm acting so strange.'

Your POV

I was sitting around at Scoops Ahyo wondering about Robin's lips against mine. The thought of her lips against mine was making me blush. I haven't really told anyone my secret for liking girls because I'm scared what people would think of me.

Before I got into my head I saw Dustin walking in. I smiled and waved which made him switch his direction. He came up to the booth and sat across from me.

" Hey Y/n/n!" he said excited

I matched his energy " Hey Dustin!"

We both let out a laugh. I didn't notice the eyes of a certain person.

Robin's POV

I was watching this kid make his way to the front until something more like someone caught his attention. I watched as he walked over to Y/n the most beautiful girl that I have ever seen. I had a feeling that it wouldn't work out, which kind of bummed me out cause I really like her. Not many people know that I like girls, especially my co-worker Steve.

" Hey Robin! You have a customer." Steve said

I snapped my head over to him and saw him pointing to someone in front of me. I gave the person a small guilty smile.

" Sorry about that, can I help you?" I said

'I shouldn't be feeling this, But it's too hard to resist, soft skin, soft lips, I should be into this guy, But it's just a waste of my time, He's really not my type, I know what I like, No, this is not a phase or a coming of age this will never change.'

Third Person POV

Robin and Y/n were both in a difficult position because they wanted to come out so they could be together, but were each scared of something. Robin was super scared of rejection while Y/n was scared of how people would see her. She kept telling herself that having a crush on Robin will pass, but she knew deep down it wouldn't pass. Her love for Robin was already too deep where it's taking too much control over her. Robin felt the same way, she knew deep down if she didn't figure out soon she felt like she could explode.

Your POV

I was sitting in my living room staring at the blank television screen. I was in my head trying to persuade my brain to stop having a crush on Robin. I know that it wouldn't work between us or it could.

" Honey, what's wrong?" my mom said

I looked over at her confused until I put my hands to my cheeks. I never realized I was crying until now, which only brought more of them. She pulled me into her arms and gently rubbed my lower back.

'Cause I don't know what to do, It's not like I get to choose who I love, Who I love, Who I love, Who I love, Who I love.'

" What to tell me what's going on, bug?" she whispered

I let out a sigh while pulling away to bring my knees to my chest. I messed with my fingers trying to find the right words to say.

" Y/n/n, you know you can tell me anything." she stated

I nodded to her words. I let out one last sigh before saying...

" I can't stop thinking of this person. I keep telling myself that it wouldn't work between us."

She put her hand on my knee and stated..." What do you mean you wouldn't work?"

I tried to give her a look, but she wasn't getting the message. " Mom, you don't get it. People are going to judge me."

She looked concerned. " Honey, don't think like that. Why think about the people judging you when you have people right here supporting you."

I teared up again, which just made her bring me into a hug. " You shouldn't let what people say affect you. I know they can hurt, but your stronger than them." she said

I just hugged her tighter.

Robin's POV

All I could think about was Y/n and how I never might get a chance to tell her how I feel.

" Robin! Hey!" Steve said waving a hand in front of me

" Sorry"  I whispered

He just studied me which made me shift. " What are you thinking about?" he questioned

I just shook my head. " Robin, come on. You can tell me."

I looked up and just said..." Y/n"

He grew confused. " What about her?"

" Steve" I said quietly

He then realized. " Oh"

" Yea" I whispered

" Robin, you want a suggestion."

I nodded for him to continue. He smiled..." Go take a chance. You know you want to and I know you're going to regret not trying it."

I took  a shaky breath before nodding. " Thanks Steve."

He just smiled..." That's what friends are for right."

We both then let out some laughs.

Your POV

'They're so pretty, it hurts, I'm not talking 'bout boys, I'm talking 'bout girls, They're so pretty with their button up shirts, And they're so pretty, it hurts, I'm not talking 'bout boys, I'm talking 'bout girls, They're so pretty, it hurts.'

" Hey mom" I said

She hummed indicating that she was listening. " I just want you to know that I wasn't talking about boys, but more so gi-"

" Girls" she said smiling

I looked confused which made her laugh. " Honey, I could tell and I'm here to support you so go get your girl."

I smiled and immediately grabbed my shoes and ran to Scoops, but before I left I said...

“Thank you mom"

She smiled, " I'll always support you kiddo."

I smiled back before heading to see Robin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

" Robin!" I shouted

She looked up and looked nervous. I didn't blame her cause I was nervous too. " Can I ask you something?" I questioned

She nodded.

" Um, would you want to go out with me?"

She looked stunned, but nodded. " I would love to Y/n."

The both of us were beaming with joy. I saw Steve out of the corner of my eye, but didn't pay one single glance at him.

" Um, does tomorrow night work for you?" I questioned

" Yes it does." She said softly

I smiled, " Um, then I guess see you tomorrow."

" Yea! See you tomorrow." She said also smiling

Third Person POV

Both Robin and Y/n were glowing with excitement for their date together tomorrow night. They might also be nervous but they're mostly excited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin... ah I love her so much. I know I say this when I write for her but she is just the best character for me. Okay well again I hope you enjoy this amazing one-shot. Feel free to comment or request. Thank you guys so much for the support!

-Samantha

[chibiranmaruchan]

There's something that's been on my mind about the fandom scene, that's kinda bugged me for about as long as I started taking tumblr more seriously for posting art and taking part in fanzines, bangs, gift exchanges etc. quite a few years ago now. Sometimes in fandoms that are older than Gen Z, (which in the majority of these fanbases, people would at least be in their late 20's, usually the majority are in their 30's and 40's) there's a lot of resentment to younger fans, particularly the Gen Z's. Now I'm not saying, with Gen Z, there aren't problems specific to our generation when it comes to fandoms; however from what I've observed, (this might be in the older fandoms that I'm specifically in) a lot of the issues come from the original fanbase themselves and Gen Z's are just the scapegoats to blame, instead of actually fixing the fanbase those issues, which I find come from rigidity to keeping the fandom the same way it was 20, 30, 40 years ago.

Sometimes older fandoms do feel gatekept by older members, which is a shame, because more fans, means more exposure, more content, more creativity, more joy. I've definitely felt talked down to and know others have, just for giving an opinion or suggesting something, like a headcanon, often with good natured intentions to bounce around ideas and as prompts, just because it doesn't fit what the fandom olds have decided to be canon (which isn't always canon/word of God or act like they personally are the director/writer/mangaka etc's mouth pieces delivering upon us, the holy gospel). If you're older than me, I don't need you to take me under your wing to teach me what's right and wrong for a fictional piece of work, just because one generation decided it's one way and another likes another way better. You aren't my parents, so please don't talk to me in a strict tone like you're correcting my bad behaviour; it's personally insulting and infantalising. In fact, I believe this phenomena is so common, the term 'fandom mom' was coined because this happens a lot.

I've heard a lot of older people in some fandoms blame Gen Z for ruining things, but a lot of the things that I've heard them being accused of, I see the older members fight with each other on, such as rules established by the older generations themselves like "If you don't like X ship, character, franchise, tropes etc, move on to what you do like and don't stay around to hate on X thing". It just comes off as hypocritical to me if you're going to instruct young people on established fandom ettiqute, but break them yourself and make excuses for other fandom olds when they do something wrong, but would crucify a younger person for doing the same thing.

Another thing I've seen, is envy towards the talent of Gen Z, especially when it comes to their fanart and fanfic output and the technology available to them with digital fanart. I understand wishing that you had that technology when you was younger and more energy and time now to contribute to these fandoms, as you're in a different stage of life to most Gen Z's, but it's not our faults that we're the ones that exist in the time for technology to be really good to create art with. I've seen this cause a divide between older and younger fans, by older ones trying to keep up the younger ones, to an obsessional level and half the time, we're not even seeing it as some competition, we do it for fun.

I keep seeing younger fandoms such as My Hero Academia, Miraculous Ladybug and Steven Universe, as well as rebooted/alternate versions of older fandoms like My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power and Voltron: Legendary Defender, be used to justify treating Gen Z fans a certain way and projecting this image that every Gen Z is this frothing, cringy mess of a person who will rip others to shreds. While some people are like this, I think it's unfair to say the majority are, especially when comparing it to older fandoms or the original version's older fanbase, since the young people in those fandoms will eventually grow up and mature over time. You can't judge people who are mostly in their teenage years, as if they'll all be like that forever, especially not when I've seen some people pushing 40, say and do a lot worse over fandom.

The fandoms especially where the original source material is old, but still around and continuously aimed at children, just to name a few that I personally still enjoy, such as My Little Pony, Transformers, Pokémon, Sailor Moon, Kingdom Hearts etc. I don't understand when the older generations of fans get so possessive of keeping it gatekept from Gen Z, to the point they forget first and foremost, that it isn't even aimed at older people anymore, but children. If a lot of these kind of franchises were going to age up in accordance with the original fanbase, then they would have in the majority of their future installments; I could then understand this hold to gatekeep a little bit more. But a lot of them haven't and the companies making and selling them, still want to primarily focus on being marketed towards kids, but just of a new generation. No one's stopping older fans from liking older franchises aimed at kids, which they grew up with, but please let kids have things that are aimed at them and more than likely always will be, without this struggle to keep it just as it was when you were younger. You can dislike the direction something is going in, criticise it and prefer an older version, but you can't expect it to cater to you as an adult.

At a certain point, you have to accept that things change over time, including fandom. Demographics will naturally change, as more younger people come in and will eventually become the majority and fandom olds get older, eventually becoming the minority. With this change, generally, Gen Z are not trying to pry fandom out of your hands; we're just trying to co-exist and like the same things older fans do. Generally, we're not trying to antagonise older fans, by having a different opinion or different way of doing things. The Simpsons puts it best, "I used to be with it, but then they changed what it was. Now what I'm with, isn't it and what's it seems weird and scary to me. It'll happen to you". It's ok to feel out of your depth with younger people, who seem better at something than you with more charisma, energy, time, followed and engagement with their socials, but please don't project that on us as if we're undeserving or we're doing something wrong. I don't want to feel like any time I draw, it's a competition, I just do it for fun. I don't want me giving an idea, to be shot down, because you don't want to think of something in a different way. I just want to share inter-generationally the things I like and interact with like-minded individuals, but only if they're not going to do these things that I've grown weary of seeing and personally experienced.