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halfvalid · 8 months

Note

Hiii! If its no trouble could I have a zoro and reader fic with the one bed trope? The others know about their crushes on each other so they force each other to share a room? Anyway they end up cuddling and its all cute (the others will tease them forever about it lol)?? Thankss

intertwined ribbons

ABOUT

alternate title: opla zoro makes my hated tropes less hated

rating: general audiences/teen & up

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!nami | live action!straw hats ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: unbeknownst to you, your crush on zoro is reciprocated. the rest of the straw hats take it upon themselves to get you together by locking you in his bedroom overnight.

tags: strawhat!reader, only one bed, forced proximity, confessions, no use of 'y/n', nami is a true instigator, cuddling, soft zoro, humor

author's note: thank you so much for the request and i hope it meets your expectations!! fun fact i actually used to hate the 'only one bed' trope, so i decided to challenge myself in writing this. and i think it's one of my fave tropes now lol

(you have an inner spirit that helps you make decisions except it’s just nami.)

“I just think that maybe you should stop avoiding him,” Nami started. You bit your cheek, ignoring her as you tied up the last of the ship’s rigging into a careful knot. Nami had been going on for the past few minutes, and you’d zoned out exactly three seconds in, when the name Zoro had first been spoken. Because of this reason you weren’t really listening, so you blinked up at her in confusion.

“Sorry? Who am I avoiding?”

“You’re impossible,” Nami grumbled. “And you know exactly who I’m talking about.” Which, well, fair. The math added up: you heard the word Zoro, you stopped listening, Nami continued talking until she realized you’d stopped listening. “Especially since you’re, you know—” she gave you another look, eyes rolling over to stare dead into yours— “Avoiding him.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said innocently. Nami sighed, leaning over to tug the rope dangling from your hands out of your grip. You tried to reach back for it, but she didn’t let you. “Hey!”

“Yes, you do. Face it. You’re avoiding Zoro.”

You made a face at her. “I think there are ropes on the foredeck that I can attend to.”

“No, there aren’t,” Nami answered. “Now stop changing the subject. There’s this wild concept called communication. It works wonders.”

“Says you,” you muttered, though your arms crossed defensively across your chest. You noticed the action after a split-second and unwound your arms with a scowl. “Look, I just don’t see the point. And I haven’t been avoiding him.”

You were, in fact, avoiding him. Ever since that dreadful night a week ago when Nami had gotten you tipsy and stuck her hand in your chest cavity fishing for secrets, you’d been avoiding him. The other girl was ridiculously good at prying truths out of you, and during the conversation, you’d accidentally spilled your crush on the Straw Hat crew’s resident swordsman.

You’d managed to keep the secret for the months you’d been together, wherein the unfortunate feelings had developed, and you should’ve figured once somebody knew they wouldn’t leave you alone about it. Because Nami refused to talk about literally anything else. You’d expected this sort of behavior from Luffy, or maybe Sanji, but Nami? The world was more amatonormative than you'd thought.

Nami cast you a look. “You’re blushing.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. What’s the harm in talking to him?” Nami demanded, one hand on her hip as she stared you down. You gaped at her.

“Um, literally everything? One, Zoro can’t talk about feelings or emotions for shit, so when he rejects me it’ll be in the most excruciating, offhand manner that will probably leave me at the bottom of a barrel of rum, two, after being rejected I’m going to have to leave the Straw Hats, three—”

Nami rolled her eyes, looking increasingly fed up with you. “For someone so obsessed with not telling our resident grass-headed swordsman about your feelings for him, you’re talking rather loudly.”

You shut up, snapping your jaw closed with a glare. “Stop it,” you hissed.

“Besides, who knows if he actually will reject you?” Nami turned to work on the next section of rigging, glancing over her shoulder at you. “You’re catastrophizing.”

“I’m being realistic,” you snapped. “Okay, fine. He reciprocates my feelings. Then what? We date, we break up because all relationships eventually end, it becomes awkward, and—voila—I’ll have to leave the Straw Hats anyway. It’s a bad idea all around.”

Nami just let out a huff of breath, the exhale laced with irritation. “Catastrophizing,” she repeated.

“I am not—”

“Sure. Go help Sanji with dinner.”

You gave her an exasperated look, but at this point Nami wasn’t paying attention anymore, so you stormed off into the underbelly of the Going Merry. Speak of the devil, apparently, because once you entered the kitchen you spotted not only Sanji occupying it but also Zoro. He was lounging at the table, swords strapped to his waist and a bottle of something he was nursing in hand.

You averted your gaze from him, head running a million miles a minute. Had he noticed you’d been avoiding him? You’d tried to be furtive about it, but if Nami had noticed, maybe—

“Well, hello there,” Sanji called from where he was in the midst of dinner preparations. “Come to help?”

“Nami sent me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think she’s appointed herself queen of the Going Merry.”

“Oh, she did that long ago,” Sanji chided. “You’re only noticing it now. Pick up a knife, then. I’d like some help dicing the carrots.”

You stiffly moved over to the counter, ignoring Zoro as you went even as you felt his gaze following your figure. You picked up the first knife you found, positioning yourself in front of the cutting board to start dicing the vegetables already laid out for you. Abruptly, Zoro stood up.

“Heading out,” he muttered. “Call me when dinner’s ready.”

With that, he left the room, leaving you and Sanji to exchange looks. “He’s moody today,” you said.

“Probably ‘cause you’ve been avoiding him.”

You felt the familiar pinprick of a blush starting to warm your cheeks. “You too?”

“You’re rather obvious about it,” Sanji said with a raised eyebrow. “But enough of that.” Weirdly enough, he didn’t seem to question why. There was no way Nami had told him, so you were left confused, but no matter. The point was that for now, you were safe.

The hour dipped to evening, and soon the moon was glowing in the sky, a shining beacon of white amidst the ocean of stars and shimmering sea. You suppressed a yawn, busing the dishes from dinner as the rest of the crew got up from their respective seats to dissolve to their own rooms. Zoro had already retired for the night—if you were avoiding him, he seemed to be doing the exact same—so at least you didn’t have that to worry about.

“Ah, wait,” Nami said, after you’d finished washing the dishes and was ready to head out. “Zoro wants to talk to you.”

You jolted, glancing nervously around you before grabbing her wrist. “What did you do?” you hissed. Nami just laughed.

“Calm down. I didn’t do anything.” Off your glare, she relented. “I promise. And I swear it’s not about feelings or emotions or whatever. Even though it’s obvious you’re avoiding him, you know Zoro wouldn’t say anything.”

You were still suspicious, but you dropped your hand. “What, then?”

Nami shrugged, tilting her chin up just so. “I guess you’re going to have to find out.”

“I don’t trust you,” you muttered. There was that look in her eye, the one she got whenever she was thinking of something truly devious. Still, you couldn’t figure out what she was up to, so— “Fine, I’ll go to his room. Walk me.”

Nami rolled her eyes, but she fell into step with you as you made your way across the ship. “You should bring it up to him, you know,” she started, but silenced after your sharp glare. “Okay, okay. I get the point. I’ll stop bothering you about it.”

You stopped by the mouth of Zoro’s door. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” Nami said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She leaned against the wall beside the door, arms crossing over her chest. “I’ll leave you alone about Mr. Prince Charming over there. Knock.”

“You can't call him Mr. Prince Charming,” you said, though you did knock. “Prince’ is already a title.”

Nami gave you a look. “Okay, smart-ass.”

The door creaked open before you could give your response, and you turned, heart pounding in your throat as Zoro stared down at you. His arm was propped up by the open doorway, the other hand still clutching the doorknob. “What.”

“Um, Nami said that you wanted to talk—” you swiveled your head towards the other girl, but before you could finish your sentence, Nami was raising up your arm and unceremoniously shoving you into the room.

You shrieked in surprise as you fell into Zoro’s figure, stumbling into him and causing him to lose his balance. Your head shot up in offense, only to see the gleam of a golden padlock in Nami’s hand before she was yanking the door closed.

A dull click echoed through the room. The only thing you could hear for a few seconds was your own heavy breathing and the sound of Zoro gathering himself.

“Did she just—” You gaped at the closed door. “Lock us in?”

Zoro swiftly pushed past you, jiggling the doorknob for a few moments before giving up. Sure enough, Nami had sealed it with the padlock from the outside, so there was no possibility of either of you getting out of the room. You could vaguely hear sounds from the outside—dull thuds and scrapes—and watched as Zoro started banging on the door.

“Nami,” he called, voice dangerously low. “Let us out.”

“Sorry, Zoro!” Your jaw practically unhinged from your skull once you heard your captain’s familiar voice, all bright and cheerful like always. “We’re putting barrels in front of the door, so don’t even try breaking it down. Have a good night!”

“Luffy? What are you—” Zoro’s knocking quickened in pace, his voice getting increasingly louder. There was no response from outside, though you could hear snickers that sounded suspiciously like Usopp. What was going on?

You kicked into action, joining Zoro by the door and trying the door handle again. “Nami!” you yelled.

Nami’s soft laugh came from outside. “Sorry!” she called. “We’ll let you out in the morning.”

You gaped at the door, only aware of Zoro’s gaze sliding down to you as you dropped your hand from the doorknob. There were some more tigers from outside, and then receding footsteps. Zoro tried knocking one last time, but it was evident that the rest of the crew had all but abandoned you.

“Okay,” Zoro muttered, moving away from the door. “I need a drink.”

You watched him move across the room, picking up a glass from his bedside table that was only slightly full. He knocked it back in one swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. “Um, what now?” you asked uncomfortably.

“Nothing. Whatever,” Zoro said, turning to glance over at you. After a moment’s thought, you noticed that he refused to look you in his eye—his gaze was firmly trained at a spot beside your head. He turned away, stripping off his sword scabbard and setting them on the floor.

You glanced around nervously. Zoro’s room wasn’t that different from yours, really—less decorated, but the constitution was the same. There was the bed, a wardrobe, a desk with various paraphernalia across it, and a little couch in the corner too. “You can look through the closet for something to sleep in. I’ll take the chair.”

The words didn’t register at first, and you were left standing there, staring as Zoro kicked off his shoes and assumedly started getting ready to sleep. “Um, what?”

Zoro glanced over his shoulder. He still wouldn’t look you in the eye. “They’re not letting us out until morning,” he said slowly. “You can take the bed. Might as well sleep.”

“It’s your room,” you started, crossing your arms. “I can sleep in the chair. I’m smaller than you, anyway, so I’ll fit it better.”

Zoro regarded you with such a reproachful look you almost wanted to laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Change.” With that, he turned around, leaving no room for discussion. You stared at him for a second before giving up, moving to his wardrobe and opening it up to search for something to sleep in.

“So, uh, any ideas on why they stuck us in here?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. Whatever Nami thought locking you in a room with Zoro would achieve, you were stubbornly not going to let her be right. God, you were so going to kill her once you got out of there.

“Nope,” Zoro said, with such a degree of finality you figured it wouldn’t be safe to question him further. “They’re just stupid.”

“I mean, I feel like they would have a motive?” You rifled through his clothes, trying very hard to detach them from their owner. Wearing Zoro’s clothes was not something you wanted your mind to linger upon. Eventually you found a shirt of his that would undoubtedly be oversized on you, and you hastily changed into it, satisfied to find it draped well to your knees so you weren’t exposing too much skin.

You stole a glance over your shoulder at Zoro, only to catch him in the action of peeling his shirt off. The stretch of the muscles in his back gleamed in the dim light of the room, and you tore your gaze away, heat rushing to your face. “Um. Anything?”

“Nope,” Zoro repeated. Carefully, you closed the wardrobe door, lingering in one spot with your hands clenched together. Once you heard him start moving again, you deemed it safe enough to turn towards the rest of the room. He’d changed into a loose tan shirt, and had settled back into the chair.

“I said I’d take the chair,” you told him hotly.

“Yeah, and I said no,” Zoro said, tone dismissive. He had his eyes closed, and you stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m not sleeping in your bed,” you said, and then, just to emphasize your point, plopped down on the floor. Zoro cracked an eye open and stared down at you. He sighed.

“Get up. Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid,” you said. “It’s your room. It’s your bed. You will sleep on it. If you’re not giving me the chair, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Zoro let out a long sigh, closing both his eyes as if he was contemplating all his life decisions. “I’m not sleeping in the bed, you know,” he said.

“Okay, so neither of us do.”

Zoro’s brows creased, and he opened his eyes to glare down at you. “Seriously? At least take the chair, then. I’ll sleep on the flo—”

You gave him a sharp look. “Zoro.”

“This conversation isn’t getting anywhere,” Zoro muttered, and finally got up from his chair. You glanced up at him expectantly. “What can I do to convince you to take the bed?”

“Uh, nothing.”

“We can work out a compromise,” Zoro said with a sigh. “I want you on it, and you want me on it, and neither of us are willing to take it ourselves.” He paused, brow creasing as an idea seemed to form in his head—one he didn’t seem to be a giant fan of, but an idea nonetheless. “How about.” His lips pursed, before he parted them again to finish his sentence. “How about we both take it?”

It felt like someone had hit you square in the chest, air kicking out of your lungs and leaving you gasping for breath. Your windpipe was all raw, and you had to fight to tear any words out from your throat. “Ex—excuse me?”

“It’s big enough,” Zoro said stiffly, though his hands were clenched at his sides. “I can take one side and you can take the other. Since you’re so dead-set on me sleeping on it.”

“I—” You cut yourself off, suddenly far too aware of Zoro’s eyes fixed on you. Watching your every move. Oh, Nami was in for it now. How were you supposed to survive sleeping in the same bed as—you didn’t even want to think about it.

“Well?” Zoro prompted.

“Fine,” you agreed hastily, ducking your head lest Zoro catch any of the flush that was undoubtedly rising steadily up your cheeks. It was bad enough you were stuck in his bedroom and wearing his clothes—but this had quickly become your own personal circle of hell. “Good enough for me.”

“Finally.” With that, Zoro climbed into bed, settling himself on the very edge of its side. Your throat had gone dry, and you stared at him for another second before hurriedly turning away to flick the lights off. You approached the other side of the bed with an extreme lack of enthusiasm, staring at the empty sheets like they were cackling up at you. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Eventually you slid into the bed, busying yourself with arranging the blankets around your figure. Zoro’s breaths were steady and deep from beside you. You didn’t know what to do for a second, but then Zoro’s voice was cutting through the darkness. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You jolted, then suppressed your sigh. “Have not.”

“Yes, you have, and everyone knows it, and you’re not very subtle,” Zoro said, sounding almost bored as he rattled off the words. “Why.”

“I haven’t—”

“Don’t.”

You ran your tongue along your teeth, sucking at the valleys between them in annoyance. “It’s not important.”

Zoro paused before speaking, like he was mulling over asking the question. “Did I do something?”

“What? No.” You shook your head, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see. The sound did well enough to indicate the action to him, though—he scoffed, a low murmur from his chest that buzzed through your nerves. “I don’t want to talk about this. You’re giving the rest of the crew what they want.”

“They definitely did not lock you in here to talk about why you’re avoiding me,” Zoro muttered. Now it was your turn to scoff, because if only he knew. “Are you sure I didn’t do anything?"

“Positive. It’s all me.”

“Okay, so why?” Zoro prompted. You swallowed hard, trying to dodge around the subject. “Are you sure—”

“Please just stop talking,” you said, one hand reaching out to grip his arm as if the physical contact would make him shut up. There was a stagnant moment of silence, your breath catching as your brain caught up to your body. Your hand was on Zoro’s arm. Your hand was on Zoro’s bicep, and you were in his bed.

You cleared your throat, a panicked choke bursting from your lungs. “Um.” Your eyes skittered sideways, and then you finally turned on your side to stare at him. To stare at where your hand was still clutched around his arm.

You could just barely make out the angle of his jaw in the darkness, but you could see it was clenched, the vein along his neck protruding just slightly. Hastily, you removed your hand, the skin of your fingers tingling like you could still feel him underneath the tips. “Sorry. Why—why are you so certain that you did something for me to avoid you?”

There were a few moments of silence that ticked by, nothing but the rock of the ship interrupting it. Finally, Zoro spoke. “Because the reason they locked you in my room is because—”

“What? The reason they locked me in your room is because of me,” you said. Zoro finally moved from his position, head tilting to face yours so you were eye-to-eye. You swallowed. “Nami, um—Nami specifically forced me in here so I would… talk to you.”

There was a question evident in Zoro’s voice. “About?”

Your lips parted, and then closed again. “Um.”

“We can just sleep, if you want,” Zoro muttered.

“What if they don’t let us out in the morning because we haven’t talked, though?” you hissed. Zoro let out a low laugh.

“You realize you’re giving them exactly what they want.”

“So you’d be more comfortable if we just… fell asleep?” you asked. Zoro shrugged. Since you weren’t exactly averse to the idea of not confessing, you nodded in agreement, heart beating a million miles a second. “Okay. Fine by me.”

You settled back into your pillow, but soon came to realize that, due to the fluttering butterflies in your stomach and the fact you were very aware of the man of your affections being barely a foot to your right, you could not sleep. Evidently Zoro felt the same way, because he kept shifting around under the blankets—your hands brushed against each other a few times before he jolted away like you’d burnt him.

“Sorry,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t say anything in response. Somewhere in the back of your head, you could hear Nami hissing at you—I didn’t shove you in a room with Mr. Prince Charming just for you to not take advantage of the opportunity. You tried to get her out of your brain—it was a bad idea all around—but the words kept reverberating around in your mind until you found yourself suddenly speaking. “Zoro?”

“Hm?”

“Nami stuck me in here so I would tell you that, um—”

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro murmured, and you shivered, his voice sounding suddenly closer. You squirmed, your hand brushing against Zoro’s again, except this time it took him a delayed moment to drift away. He had gotten closer—or maybe that was you, instinctually leaning towards the dip in the middle of the bed when you’d been lost in thought.

“The reason they locked me in here with you is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” you blurted, the words slurring together, consonants and syllables all in one rush. “Because I have them. Feelings, I mean.”

Zoro’s voice was very low when he spoke. “Excuse me?”

You sat straight up, the blankets previously nestled around your chin falling to your waist. “I have feelings for you and that’s why everyone locked me in here.”

“I—” Zoro coughed, and then coughed again, ridding his throat of whatever was preventing him from making full sentences. He slowly sat up, and you stared down at the blankets in your lap as you saw him rise to his full height beside you. And oh, this was it. He was about to reject you in the most excruciating, offhand manner that would probably leave you at the bottom of a barrel of rum. “That’s not possible.”

“Why is that—” you decided to shut up instead of finishing your sentence, allowing him to speak instead. There was a soft burning starting at your skin, all red hot, and your brain buzzed, regret filling up your lungs and making it hard to breathe.

Zoro didn’t say anything, but you heard his hand before you felt it. It slid across the bedsheets before finally resting beside yours, fingertips grazing against your knuckles. “Zoro?” you whispered.

“The reason they locked you in here with me is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” Zoro said blankly. You blinked. It took you a moment to realize that he wasn’t just quoting you—that he hadn’t switched the pronouns accordingly. Your heart dropped.

Your voice was very faint when you spoke. “What?”

“I like you,” Zoro said carefully. Languidly, the words dripping off his tongue all saccharine-sweet like molasses, or honey. You shivered, your hand accidentally knocking against his, and he took the opportunity to draw it in closer, fingers pushing up your palm, just a hair’s breadth away from interlacing with yours. “Luffy unfortunately found out. He doesn’t know how to keep a secret and told the rest of the crew.”

You gaped at him. “I like you,” you said, dumbfounded. You could feel yourself trembling, fingers sliding against Zoro’s hand with every shake. “Nami yanked it out of me. Which is why I’ve been avoiding you for the past week.”

“I thought you were avoiding me because you found out I liked you,” Zoro muttered. His fingertips brushed against the pads of your hand, and you swallowed, mouth all dry. “So.”

You tentatively lifted your gaze, finding Zoro’s eyes even amidst the darkness. They were shining, a slight glint from the moon coming in through the window reflecting along the shadows of his face. Carefully, his hand slid fully into yours, fingers lacing together, and it was like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place.

Zoro slid back down onto his back, tugging you along with him. You settled back on your pillow, using your other hand to pull the blankets back over your chest. For a full stagnant minute the two of you lay there, hands intertwined in the space between.

You were the one who made the first move, then, thumb running up and down the length of his index finger. Zoro ran with the action, tugging your hand just slightly until you were leaning into the dip of the mattress, gravity pulling you closer to his body.

He lifted your entwined hands, tugging you towards him until your back was pressed right to his chest. Then he settled your arms back down again, the back of his palm resting against your belly.

You swallowed hard, able to hear the sound of your throat in the utter silence. Zoro exhaled, his breath softly brushing against your neck. “Good night,” you whispered.

Zoro pressed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, a ghost of something that left tingles fluttering down your spine, the drunken butterflies in your stomach swaying at the action. “Good night,” he murmured, and your breath caught.

He was warm, oh so warm, like a campfire with licks of flame that softened your hands in the dead of night. And even though you wanted to speak up, question when he’d started liking you, if he was lying or not—you were content to stay here in his arms and drift off to sleep.

So you did, settling back into his embrace with your head spinning and senses murmuring, all dizzy like you were caught in a dream. Eventually, your tiredness got the better of you, and you felt your senses fading as the world around you darkened to black.

The two of you jolted awake to the knocking and the very unpleasant hum of Nami’s voice. “Rise and shine!” she called through the door, and you blinked, bleary eyes adjusting to the light as you suppressed your yawn.

Zoro jolted up beside you, practically giving you whiplash as his arm was still comfortably around your waist. Your fingers tingled, and you realized that you’d fallen asleep with your hands laced together.

“Nami,” you grumbled, about to rise out of bed before Zoro stopped you. You turned towards him in question, only to stop short as you registered the look in his eyes. His gaze was deep, piercing; those butterflies rose up again in your stomach, apparently awake after they’d passed out from their drunken stupor. You swallowed. “Hi?”

“Hey,” he murmured. “They locked you in my room.”

“I’m going to knock Nami over the head with a rowboat oar,” you said blandly, eyes flickering towards the door, which Nami was still pounding on. You vaguely heard shuffling sounds, like the crew were working to move the barrels they’d stuck in front of the door to free you from your prison. “You can have the rest of them, if you want.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Zoro agreed. “But first…”

“First?” you prompted.

Zoro brought your hands—still intertwined—to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss along your knuckles. “Good morning,” he said, voice low and awkward, like he wasn’t used to letting the words out of his mouth. He let your hands drift to his lap, leaning forward until his forehead brushed against yours.

A faint sigh escaped your lips when he finally kissed you. It wasn’t rough or hard; it was a soft press, like your hands had been just a few hours ago. There was a degree of finality to it; a held-in breath that’d exhaled from your lungs, one you hadn’t realized was building up that much pressure until you finally let it all go.

The door flung open, and you jolted away, but Zoro tilted your head back towards him before you could. At the mouth of the room, Luffy had started screaming. “Aww,” Nami cooed. Behind her, Usopp and Sanji were gripping onto each other like they were watching a particularly engaging fight.

A steady blush rose along your cheeks, but Zoro was absolutely shameless, the hand not held in yours raising up to give them the finger. “Get out of my room.”

“Told you it’d be okay,” Nami sing-songed, and then you really did break away from Zoro, picking up the object nearest to you and barrelling towards her. She shrieked, dodging out of the doorway as Zoro laughed from behind you.

“Wait!” she stopped you from whacking your pillow against her head, raising up her arms in defense. “I was right. I saw you two—”

“Nami,” you started, dangerously low. “You locked me in his room.”

“Yeah, to help you!” she cried defensively, slowly taking backwards steps as you gained on her. “Come on. We can talk about this.”

“Good luck,” Zoro called out from behind you—you turned around, catching his gaze. He had gotten up, leaning against the doorway and watching you with a sparkle of fondness in his eye. “You’ll need it.”

You blew him a kiss, ignoring the long groan it pulled out of Luffy from beside Zoro in the hallway. And then you turned around. Nami had darted off, taking the time you’d been distracted to run off. “Oh no you don’t!” you yelled, and then lunged after her with Zoro laughing all the while.

Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad thing, you thought. But you were still going to beat Nami’s ass.

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla #opla zoro x reader #opla fanfiction #opla fanfic #kiki writes!

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angelltheninth · 1 month

Note

How about the HQ Team captains getting injured and their girlfriend helping them heal/stay in bed?

There are quite a few captains but I guess I'll just include my faves.

Pairing: Daichi Sawamura, Tetsuro Kuroo, Wakatoshi Ushijima, Kotaro Bokuto, Toru Oikawa x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, injury recovery, slight angst, kissing, teasing, being stubborn, changing clothes, reassurance

A/N: Guess we're starting the day with angst and injury.

Daichi is very understanding that he has to take a break for his leg to get better. As long as he gets rest it should be fine, it's just annoying to have to call you every time he needs to go somewhere cause it's hard to get around on his own. Really boring too, stuck at home all day, at least you visit every day and tell him what's been going on.

Kuroo wants to go and play despite his hand being broken. Argues very strongly that he can always use the other one. He can't even eat with his injured hand, let alone attend practice, or worse games with his team. Stubborn he insists that he's fine but has to bite back a groan of pain when you so much as kiss his hand.

Wakatoshi doesn't say anything about his ankle hurting until the game is won. For which he gets a lot of scolding for you and you spend some time at his place to make sure he's not walking around too much. Or at all really, he won't say it hurts even if it does so you poke him to remind him that yes, his ankle is indeed hurting.

Bakuto complains a bit too much for the level of leg injury he has, he just overdid it on his leg muscles a little and will be fine after a few days. Bold of you to assume he won't milk this situation for all it's worth, constantly keeping you by his side and telling you only your kisses can make him feel better. Which means he'll be fine.

Toru almost pouts when he realizes he's cracked a rib and has to stay home. Flirts with you when you tell him that you'll be helping him get dressed, he'd rather you help him get undressed. Despite his complaints and trying to brush things off he is very grateful to have such a caring girlfriend.

#haikyuu x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #kotaro bakuto x reader #toru oikawa x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq headcanons #hq fluff #daichi x reader #kuroo x reader #wakatoshi x reader #bakuto x reader #toru x reader #x female reader

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muniimyg · 2 months

Text

4: the cold // series m.list

note: reblogging w fic taglist cos the limit is annoying n my posts keep glitching </3 sorry for the long wait! i literally finished c2u and was working on c2u's extras as well as attempting to keep my life together LOL . this jk is literally GETTING INTO IT YUHHH . hope everyone is enjoying the story ,, i'm so excited for the rest ! we're halfway thru :( if u missed aao jk ,, lmk ur fave moment of his as of now huhuhuuuu

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “aao” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar @jkslvsnella @parkinglot-nights @kissyfacekoo

Picture this.

Jungkook sent you a text, claiming to be sick. He said:

jungkook (liar) 3:09PM: no fr i get so dizzy standing up lol

jungkook (liar) 3:09PM: deadass i’m wearing like 7 layers and i’m chilly af .. need the warmth of ur arms, baby 🙏🏼

jungkook (liar) 3:10PM: do u think u can come by w some medicine? i’d owe u like… my whole heart

jungkook (liar) 3:10PM: nvm gave that to u already 😘✋🏽

Your natural response to his concerning text messages was to call him. When you called to check up on him, you noted how he coughed at every perfect pause... How his voice was toned groggy with a hint of pathetic.

Just as pathetic as his lie.

Does he think you're dumb? Fine. Two can play this game.

The second Jungkook opens the door and is greeted by his friends, grinning goofily with alcohol in their hands—he feels the urge to shut the door at their face. “Ah, for fucks sake—”

“Not so fast!” Hobi squeals as he grabs your wrists and tugs you from the back of the crowd to the front. Offering you to Jungkook, Hobi winks, “I believe this belongs to you.”

Jungkook’s eyes soften at the sight of you.

Lowering his head, he purses his lips for a kiss. You blink at him, letting him stand there like a fool. A few of his friends chuckle at the rejection, but it doesn’t dishearten Jungkook. Instead, he lifts his head and carries on.

Hey, the kiss was worth a shot.

With a patient tone, he tries to talk this out. “I thought it was just going to be you coming over...”

Shrugging at him, you answer; “And I thought you were sick.”

"Well, what can I say? I always feel better whenever you're around." Jungkook chides.

Unimpressed, you tsk at him. “Nice try, buddy.”

Your hunch was right.

Jungkook wasn't sick.

There was no eye bag in sight, no cough to be heard, and with the short amount of time it took him to answer the door; he doesn't seem dizzy at all. If anything, he looks freshly showered and prepared.

For a sick man, his 5PM fit was rather suggestive. He's wearing jeans, and a white wife beater with an off-white button-up unbuttoned. He must know he's hot, right? He wore this on purpose.

"A little dressed up for someone who should be pretending to be sick..." you poke his chest.

Jungkook grins, instantly shrugging his button-up off. "Oh, my bad. Here, I'll undress and—"

"Jungkook!" you gasp as you tug his button-up back on. "Your friends are here! Don't be so shameless—"

"Whose fault is that?" he laughs. "___, was I not clear when I asked for you? You. Not the circus.”

“Hey!” Nam Joon cries from the crowd. “Are you calling me a clown?”

Jungkook lifts his head and shakes it. Smiling at his hero, he assures Nam Joon; “Not you, hyung. I love you.”

Earning a few laughs, the moment ends when Jin interrupts and pushes past you. Jungkook places his arm in front of your body, gently moving you against the wall. He shoots Jin a glare but Jin doesn't seem to catch on. He makes one final comment before inviting himself into Jungkook's home; “Stop sucking Joon's dick and let us in!”

As his friends cheer and begin to invade his home, you stand still and laugh at them hustling in. As they make random remarks, Jungkook warns them not to touch certain things in his living room and that his bedroom is off-limits. Walking in, his friends can't help but feel out of place when they spot the homecooked meal Jungkook prepared for you two. The table is all set up. The projector is ready to go in the living room corner, accompanied by the ever so comfy set up of pillows and fuzzy blankets on the couch… The fuzzy blanket on the couch that Taehyung and Hobi have now wrapped themselves in.

Yeah..

Jungkook did not see this coming. He groans at the very sight. His plans were ruined.

Once Jimin gets his little ass inside, you take that as your cue to head in. You duck under Jungkook's arm and just as you think you’re about to get away—he stops you. He takes a step back and swoops his other arm around your waist.

“Not so fast.”

You huff. “Okay. I’ll walk in slow motion—”

“___…” Jungkook says in a warning tone. “Yah, I said I was sick and you show up here with my friends?”

You poke his chest. “I had a feeling you were up to no good. I brought reinforcement.”

For the most part, Jungkook likes to think he has you figured out. Then, you pull shit like this and he is completely tongue-tied.

Jungkook can’t help but applaud your move. It’s petty and nonchalant… It’s well played. Yet, he feels bittersweet at the very realization that you’ve outsmarted him so early on.

To be fair, his main moves are centered around lies.

… Is it so wrong that he thought he could at least get one last good lie before facing the truth?

The truth is that he has grown to like you so much he has completely lost control of his words and thoughts. Every time he’s around you—that’s it. That’s the entire moment. That’s his entire world. He doesn’t know how to keep it that way, you know? He hasn’t figured out how to freeze time and just be with you. So, he lies. He lies in an attempt to make the moment last just a second longer.

He knows he could have you with a simple conversation and his bunny smile. He knows he’s kindhearted and would be a great boyfriend if you let him… He’s just having a hard time navigating through all the feelings. They consume him faster and fiercer than he expected. The only way to keep up is to keep you near, and the only way to keep you near is to keep making excuses.

Thus, this week’s excuse.

He huffs at you. "A home-cooked meal, a movie on my projector, and comfy blankets... Means I'm up to no good? Come on, ___. This is ridiculous!"

"You've been so mischievous ever since—"

"It was just the ice skating thing!" Jungkook defends himself.

"It was also the pocky thing—"

His eyes light up. Jungkook’s lips curve into a smirk. "Ah... Thinking about our kiss, huh?"

Now you feel sick.

Was he serious? How does he do this to you? He says everything so bluntly and out of pocket, your tummy has no choice but to flip upside down and feel all the butterflies flutter.

"N-no!" you panic.

"Pucker up and prove me wrong," Jungkook insists, shutting his eyes and pursing his lips at you. "Like you said, I'm not sick. Kissing me won't get you sick—love sick, maybe..."

You cross your arms at him.

"Jungkook."

Opening his eyes one at a time, he puts his hands up and lets you go. He'll admit defeat here. Clearly, you aren't happy with his moves...

He'll try this.

He'll try honesty.

“___," he smiles, attempting to lighten the mood. "Hey, I was trying to—”

“Flirt?” you finish his sentence. “Yeah, sure… Has it ever occurred to you that you can flirt with me without lying?”

His eyes widen.

“Does it bother you that much?” He asks, feeling like he is completely messed up. “I’m sorry, baby. I thought it was harmless—”

You shake your head, denying his accusation. It was deeper than that. It is the principal and the root of his lying being a habit in your relationship.

“It’s not that it bothers me that much… It's just... Y-you don't have to do all this, you know? I like getting to know you, but it feels like it's impossible. You keep setting up scenarios for yourself to look good in or for me to take care of you in. I'd do it regardless if you're hurt or not. You know that, right?"

"I do," Jungkook agrees. "I just..."

You look at him with sincere eyes. "Jungkook, I'm just not understanding... Why? It’s just weird to me that you were so confident and honest when you confessed. To be honest, I really admire that part of you. B-but now that you’re… That w-we’re…. Uhmm—it's different. You're acting differently. You can flirt with me all you want. It's whatever... But maybe try something else? I'm tired of you lying, Jungkook.”

He gulps.

"You want honesty?" Jungkook begins. "Here it is... I like you too much. Like, so much that I don't know what to do with myself whenever you're around—not to mention it's even worse when you're not. I want your attention. All the time. Everything about me for everything about you."

"Jungkook—"

"Can you wait for me?" He asks you unexpectedly. "Wait for me to get it right... Because I know I can. I will get it right."

When you two join everyone inside, Jungkook’s apartment is filled with so much chaos it’s difficult for him not to A) partake and B) be upset about everyone crashing his date night (by ambush).

Honestly, Jungkook’s been pretty busy lately. He’s been neglecting his social life as school, work, and you (not that he’s complaining) have been taking over. In a way, he finds it sweet that you ruined his plans with yours. Especially since you came in with all his friends. It was a nice surprise. He will definitely take note of your sneaky ways too.

By the time everyone gets hungry, there’s barely any space for anyone to eat. Some friends are sitting on the floor, eating off the coffee table or parts of the couch. Others are eating standing up, and the rest crowd over his tiny kitchen island and dining table. There are a few girls you’ve invited here and just as usual, you all went to the bathroom together. As you all enter back into the scene, there is absolutely no space.

“___!” Jin calls you over. “Eat with us.”

You look at the girls and exchange laughs. They tease you before pushing to towards the dining table. As you approach, you realize there’s barely space let alone a seat. Without much thought, you gravitate towards Jungkook who is sitting and eating. Squeezing your way through, he notices you and nods towards Hobi. Hobi then responds by handing you a plate of food Jungkook set aside for you. Taking the plate, you thank Hobi. Jungkook then pushes his chair back and just as he’s about to get up from his seat to give to you—

“No, it’s okay. Sit.” You insist.

“But you don’t have a seat—”

Then, it happens so naturally.

You place your plate on the table next to his and take a seat on his lap. When you do this, all the boys exchange looks but say nothing. Their eyes almost pop out of their head and Hobi even chokes on his food. He tries to hide it and turns away so you don’t think twice about it. They’re all aware of how shy you are and this? This was a big thing for Jungkook that they couldn’t ruin. You were finally coming out of your shell.

Thank god.

Meanwhile, Jungkook feels winded.

He can’t believe this.

He can’t believe you.

But given the circumstances… He might just have to. So, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he smiles at you warmly and tells you that he put all your favourites on your plate. He tells you to eat everything and that he ordered strawberry bingsoo for dessert.

“I love strawberries!” you gasp. Looking up, you bat your eyelashes and tease him, “yah, you make it too obvious you have a crush on me… You know that?”

Jungkook squints at you, followed by scrunching his nose. You lean against his forehead and mimic his little stare.

It takes everything in him to not lean in and kiss you.

Slowly but surely, everyone leaves. The only ones left are you, Jungkook, and the other 6 clowns. Yoongi and Jin went out to start the cars while Joon, Taehyung, Jimin, and Hobi finished up taking the trash out or washing the dishes.

You and Jungkook are tidying the living room. He thanks you for organizing the little get-together and apologizes again for lying to you about being sick. You tell him it wasn’t that serious—it was just built-up confusion and frustration. Further, you tell him that you don’t want him to see you as someone that he has to jump through hoops to spend time with. You tell him you want it too. You want to spend time with him too. You want to get to know him too.

You want to fall in love—

"I can do that," Jungkook nods, understanding where you're coming from. Your thoughts are interrupted as he fluffs the final pillow and grabs your hands. He squeezes them and then lets go. "But only if you stop being so oblivious. At least try, you know? It's hard for me too. Like, we're dating and I'm trying to woo you and shit—"

Dating?

Woo you?

Shit.

Your heart skips a beat.

"Wait," you pause. "Jungkook, a-are we dating?”

Just when he opens his mouth to speak, Hobi interrupts.

“___, let’s go! Jin wants to race Yoongi!”

Jungkook blinks at Hobi. “You’re not racing when ___’s in the car. Are you mad?”

Hobi lifts his hands. “Shit man, I’m just the messenger!”

Without skipping a beat, Jungkook turns to you with stern eyes. “I’ll drive you home.”

You decline. “You’re already home. Relax, it’s Jin. He’s all talk and no bite.”

“___…”

As a compromise, you promise him; “I’ll ride in Yoongi’s car.”

He thinks about it for a moment. Then, he realizes he has no other practical choice. “Fine. At least if you guys do race, you’ll be in the winning car.”

Hobi coughs. “Yo, what the fuck? I’m riding in Jin’s.”

You laugh and tell Hobi you’ll meet them out the door in a second. Hobi leaves immediately, yelling at Jimin to trade spots with him so he can ride with Yoongi. Once he’s out the door, Jungkook’s apartment falls in silence.

“.... I better get going,” you breathe. “I’ll see you around?”

Scanning his apartment, you smile at the sight of everything being tidy. Picking up your feet, you head towards the door. Like a sad puppy, Jungkook trails behind you.

As you head out, Jungkook feels an urge in his stomach to make this moment last longer. “Oh... S-sure. See you at the library tomorrow?”

“You hate the library.”

“No, I don’t—”

“It’s also Saturday tomorrow.”

Jungkook blinks at you. “I love spending my Saturdays in the library.”

Giggling at his awful attempt, you remind him, “hey, we just talked about you and your fibs—”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jungkook surrenders. He puts his hands up and tilts his head. Pouting as you put your shoes on, he continues to ramble. “See what I mean? I say the wildest things just to be with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, plopping back up. Jungkook then helps you put your jacket on and gives you your tote bag. “Whatever you say, liar.”

He rolls his eyes at you. As you open the door, you face him with a silly face. He ruffles your hair as he bids his farewell, “Goodnight. Text me when you get home, baby.”

Then, just like that, the door shuts and Jungkook is all alone.

As he turns away and finally feels like he can catch his breath after everything that happened between you two tonight, he hears the door knock. Turning back, he reaches for the doorknob, opens the door, and sees you standing there.

“Did you forget something?”

“Goodnight kiss.”

He draws a blank.

“What—”

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat as you tiptoe and reach for the nape of his neck and pull him close. Leaning in, you press your lips against him and kiss him softly. Without hesitating, he kisses you back and chases your lips the second you pull away.

You pull away too fast for his liking.

“Okay, goodnight—”

He kisses you again, deepening it as much as he can. When you pull away to catch your breath, he sneaks in one last kiss. Then, he kisses your cheeks and turns you around. Before sending you off, he teases you one last time.

“Go away. I hate you.”

Laughing at his words, you realize that sometimes—they aren’t so bad.

Him and his lies.

You and your reading in between lines.

#bts fanfic #jungkook scenario #jk fic #jk f2l #jungkook drabble series #jungkook fluff #jungkook boyfriend au #bts f2l #bts fluff

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stuffeddeer · 5 months

Note

hiii! how about ~any bsd characters of your choice~ when they make you cry for the first time during an argument? (maybe they say something mean, weaponize your insecurities, tell you to shut up (yeah, i'm sensitive to this heh), won't listen to you, etc)

yayyy any of my choice!!! that means my faves dazai and nikolai <3 love u anon

cw: intimacy ? "fuck" is used multiple times, u call urself an escort

A soft breath left your lips as you stared at your ceiling. Without even looking at the clock, you were sure it read some time past 12. You had quite a late night, even just the thought causing you to feel tired again. Closing your eyes tightly, you buried your face into your pillow, turning over in bed to do so.

The movement is followed by a deep chuckle from beside you, causing your eyes to snap open in surprise for a moment. There he is: the man who kept you up.

"Oh, you're still here." You spoke before thinking, the words coming out of your mouth as merely an observation.

"Ouch," he smirked, his hand reaching out to gently brush some hair from your face. "Good morning. Or should I say good afternoon, hm?"

"Um, sure. Thanks for last night, I suppose." Is that what he's waiting on? Acknowledgment? You pull the covers further up, making to sure cover as much of your torso as you can.

Your ex boyfriend only smirked, fingers trailing down your body just above the thick blankets. He propped his head up on one hand, elbow sinking slightly into your mattress. The way the afternoon sun danced between his brown curls made you think of last night, and how nice it felt to grip his soft hair once again. The thought makes you sigh, turning away from him to gaze at the ceiling once more.

"Hey, so, um, I gotta get ready. I have plans later..." you trail off, hoping he'll take the hint. Your ex has always been smart, especially socially - he'll understand.

And he does, for the most part, but he doesn't care. "Kicking me out already? The day just started. I thought you'd at least offer me a bowl of cereal before sending me away." His tone is teasing, the same smug smirk sitting prettily on his lips. "What are your plans, then? Anything I can tag along for?"

The incredulous look on your face gives away your confusion. "What..? No. Hey, thanks again for last night, but this is where we part. You got what you wanted, didn't you?"

He pouts at your words before sitting up. "Yeah, fine. I got what I wanted. Didn't realize this was just a fuck for you."

"Are you saying for you this was more?" You asked genuinely.

"No, I just thought it might have been more for you," he replies dismissively. Standing up, he begins pulling on his pants. "Have fun on your date, then."

You nod, unaware of his trap as you reply genuinely. "Thanks, I'll try."

He pauses, one leg in his pant leg and the other hovering just above it. "So you are prepping for a date."

Looking at him curiously, you nod. "Mhm, yeah. I was chatting with someone on Tinder. Figured I shouldn't go running to my ex whenever I need a good fuck."

He scoffs. "You think you can get a good fuck anywhere else?"

"That's what I'm tryna find out. Put on your pants, please."

"I guess it's my fault then, hm?" His eyes narrowed at you, giving nothing away as he remained frustrated and angry.

"...Fault for what?" You were confused, unaware as to what he was hinting at.

Your ex grits his teeth, feeling annoyed at your obliviousness. "For thinking we might actually get back together."

His words left you stunned for a moment, watching in silence he pulled his pants on the rest of the way. With a rather solemn expression, he shook his head in defeat and put his shirt on quickly. "There's my answer, then," he murmured, more to himself than you as he turned to leave.

Anger coursed through your body. How dare he play the hurt victim now? "Hey, fuck you!" You shouted without thinking. What a colossal asshole! "The night I broke up with you, you told me you never even liked me in the first place! And now what, you suddenly wanna 'rekindle what we had?' What did we have, Dazai? Please, enlighten me, because I find myself remembering that our whole relationship was just you talking down to me and treating me like some second-rate escort! I'm sorry for wanting more," you unloaded. Every thought that had been bouncing around in your head moved out of the way as you admitted what had been eating at you during the year of your relationship together. "It was our one year anniversary, you know, when I finally called it quits. Did you even remember?"

He didn't; of course not. You could just tell by his continued silence and the way he glanced away.

Tears brimmed your eyes. The only thing worse than his condescending remarks was the silence. You couldn't stand his quiet behavior, even when you were together - it screamed pity, and that's the last thing you wanted from someone who always knew what to say. "Get the fuck out of my house." You flopped back against your bed, burying your face into a soft pillow for the second time since waking up less than 10 minutes ago.

The sound of his feet pattering away is unheard by you, barely able to hear anything over the ringing in your head. As silently as you can, you sob into your pillow, feeling hurt and used by your stupid ex boyfriend.

Nikolai, in his crusade for emotional freedom, sometimes found himself treating you in a way that was less than ideal. He liked starting arguments with you, “proving” he didn’t love you as much as he clearly did and definitely wasn’t willing to do anything you asked. It was always over small things, like who made dinner (he’d get mad if you made it since he wanted to treat you or get mad that he’d have to make it since he always does) or how you hogged the blankets at night. Because of this, you usually overlooked it — you understand that it’s his way of proving his freedom and it never devolved into anything more.

Until today, that is. You could hardly remember what the argument was originally about, but he just kept pushing…

“Nikolai, I don’t even know what I did wrong.” Tears were starting to gather in your eyes, making them puffy and glazed over. The more he raised his voice, the more you shrunk in on yourself.

“That’s the problem! How could you not know?!” He took a step closer, towering over you with his large frame.

It was almost hard to breathe, panic coursing through your veins as you suddenly pushed him away with every ounce of strength you had. Silence coursed between the two of you, air tense and uncomfortable. Your tears finally spill once you notice how your hands are shaking. Fine, if he wanted to be free, then far be it from you to stop him.

Wiping your cheeks, you weakly reply, “Get out of my apartment.”

The white haired man paused, waiting to see if you meant it. You didn’t, not really, but it’s embarrassing to admit that when you gaze at your fearfully shaking hands. This isn’t how a boyfriend should treat his partner.

“Please, Nikolai…” You’d fold, you always did, so you resorted to begging while you still had the courage.

That courage wavers fully as his hands rested on your hips, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “It’s my fault, baby,” he whispers. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll get you flowers, and we can order your favorite takeout and have a picnic in the living room while watching your favorite movie…” His thumbs brushed the fresh tears away before both hands grabbed yours. “The last thing I want is for my dove to be scared of me, I swear. I love you more than anything, you’re all I want,” he presses soft kisses against your knuckles, “please, just let me stay...”

You fold.

thank you for this bc i have been ITCHING to write for nikolai my wife my girlfriend my lover (I HAVENT WRITTEN FOR HIM B4 SORRY)

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dizzy-after-dark · 4 months

Text

Cauterized | Steve Rogers

BOOM MIC DROP: SMUT FOR THE END OF THE YEAR! Y'all didn't think I would not post once this year, did you. Well, here it is. I TRIED! Mwah; see you in 2024!

Tags: Angst (not really but yeah), SMUT, fluff

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader (Third Person)

Notes: UHHHHH 18+ BUCKOS; this is a continuation of Ignorant, which is the first part and angsty as FUCK but a personal fave of mine if I do say so myself; been really thinking about finishing my requests from over a year ago for Dinner At Dizzy's on my other account, @dizzydancingdreamer (masterlist linked if you're feeling peckish)

Warnings (what to expect, ig): oral (f recieving), fingering, sex (???), uhhhm lack of descriptive writing from a rusty author, sappiness, swearing, bad metaphors, shower sex, alcohol consumption (BARELY), size kink, over-use of the word "Stevie"

Word Count: 4.6k

She pushes the door closed, turning the shower on lazily. Her muscles ache as she twists the knob all the way to the left. Somewhere, sometime she was told about cauterization. You can seal wounds closed with fire— forcibly fuse the skin back together. She has no cuts. Nothing to fuse. And only hot water. However, maybe stepping into the scalding stream might fix the part of her brain that keeps replaying it all, over and over.

Baby I—

If anything, it might numb her. She would take that too right now. Hence the bottle on the counter, partially drunk and already open. She takes the first swig, the liquid like fuel to the inferno raging in her stomach, burning the rest of her in the process. The taste is acrid— she’s never been much of a drinker. She just wants to forget it all. Setting it down with a clunk, she strips out of grimey shirt, letting it puddle at her feet.

Looking at the material, which at one point was a stark white but will now forever be a dingy gray, she laughs. Not really but, yeah, kind of— one of those half amused huffs, anyway. A pity laugh, for the state of her life. That shirt is practically trash. Even if she had the time, energy, or resources to wash it, there’s no way it’ll ever be the same.

She should just throw it out.

Is she even talking about the shirt anymore?

She kicks it into the corner, hands falling to the button of her jeans, swollen knuckles screaming as she fails a few times to push the little metal circle through the loop.

“Goddamnit,” she mutters to herself, and to the ghosts, and the spider she saw in the corner when she came in but didn’t have the heart to make the latter as well.

She’s already made too many ghosts.

“I, uh, I can help?”

None of those ghosts have ever answered before, though.

Whirling around, fists balling in front of her face, she readies herself in less than a breaths time to send said ghost straight back to the grave—

“Woah, easy there, baby—”

Only to find Steve, his baby blues wide and a tad panicked but his hand nevertheless peeking through the crack of the door, reaching for her. Mind glazing over with confusion and, well, a fair bit of something russian and label-less, she blinks up at him and the damn door. She closed that— she remembers closing it… right?

Her eyes flick down and the fire in her belly kindles a little more.

“Are you kidding me?” She groans, the exhaustion an unwelcome guest in the cavern of her chest.

His boot, right there in the doorway, holding the measly wooden traitor open. She never heard the damn click. Didn’t even bother to listen for it. Rookie mistake, honestly. She can’t even be mad, really.

“Please just let me help.” Steve pushes past the door, both arms now extended towards her, but he doesn’t touch her yet.

He’s waiting. She stays silent. Partly because she has no idea what to say— or what she wants— and partly because he hates it. He absolutely, agonizingly hates when she gives him the silent treatment. She watches his jaw tick, lips pressing together until they go white, and there’s a sick part of her that relishes in the cool satisfaction rushing down her spine.

You made me like this.

But there’s also a part of her that mourns with him when he clears his throat, crystal eyes flooding over, liquid and glassy, and lowers his arms slightly. Not all the way. He’s hopeful, maybe. America’s sweetheart is always hopeful, that’s one of the things she fell in love with him for.

That’s still Steve— her Steve.

“I know—” Steve swallows, “I messed up. I just— you’re hurt, baby. Lemme’ help.”

She huffs— why is it so fucking complicated? Why can’t they just be normal?

She is hurt. Nothing needs cauterizing but there’s no denying her mottled skin, blue-ish under the crappy motel bathroom lights. Her hands throb, joints screaming at her— when she turns to the mirror, she almost gags at the slight bald patch behind her right ear— fuck, that one had really stung. Absolutely ridiculous the way some people fight these days.

Her silence is deafening.

She wants to sob. It’s right there, in the hollow of her throat— she wants to scream. Maybe not at him but in general. She used to live in a penthouse, with all her friends, and the love of her life. Now what? She used to get hurt like this back then too but now it feels purposeless— what are they even doing this for if they have nothing. Have no one. It made sense when she still had him.

Meeting his gaze in the mirror— disappearing a bit into fogged up glass but there regardless— she still has him. Kind of. But she still doesn’t say anything when she turns back to face him. The frown carved into her face feels vile— deep and disgusting and entirely real— but she can’t make it go away. She can’t stop the sniffle, either. Why can’t she just tell him she misses him?

“Fuck.”

It’s mumbled under his breath. The Captain America, standing in some rundown wreck of a place off some lonely highway, is swearing. Because of her. Is this hell? It feels like hell.

But, no, it can’t be, because his hands are so, so gentle as they cup her cheeks, thumbs softly dancing over the bruises, half assessing, half trying. Trying to do what, she doesn’t know. Wipe them away? Commit them to memory? She leans into his touch regardless, conceding ever so slightly. She won’t say it, but he can help. There isn’t a universe in which she would truly deny him.

The first tear that falls isn’t hers, but his, landing on her forehead right before he buries his face in her hair, wrapping those supersoldier arms around her, trying and, well, failing not to crush her in the process. The tenderness in her broken body is worth it, though, because he smells like home, even if tinged with gunpowder and war.

“I am so sorry—” he whispers, heartbeat erratic under her ear, chest heaving for breath— “I am so sorry I brought this on you. You’re hurt and it’s my fault.”

Complicated. She fists his t-shirt as hard as she can— fists in until her hands go numb. It’s not fair how complicated it has to be for them.

Steve didn’t throw her into the fight, didn’t slam his fist into her eye, or rip her hair out by the handful. Steve didn’t even make her come with him when he left; that was entirely her choice. But he did lose his mind a little bit. Power tripped a little too hard. Focused so much on keeping them all safe that he missed the part where he was just supposed to hug her— and that’s what sucked most— but he is now, right?

That has to count for something?

He pulls back and her fingers tighten, steeling, tensing. He can’t go, even if she isn’t sure what they are anymore.

The agony in his eyes when he draws the line from her balled fists holding on for dear fucking life to her own, misty gaze is indescribable. “Baby I don’t know how to fix this. I want to, I—” he clears his throat again and her frown carves even further into her skin, eyebrows drawing together— “I want to so fucking bad.”

He plants his forehead against hers and it aches, the warmth of his skin. “I don’t want to make it worse. I need you to tell me how to help.”

There’s a stinging in her throat where the words simply don’t manifest. What the fuck is she supposed to say? Nothing, at all, really, because she doesn’t even know how to fix her and she’s not mad so there’s nothing to fix… but isn’t there? Isn’t there something between them that desperately needs mending? Isn’t she mad?

Is it anger?

Or is it something much more primal.

No, there are no words she can tell him. She could show him, though. Maybe that will work.

Letting his shirt go, she watches the breath catch in his chest, stuck and frantic. She knows that feeling well— that icy desperation to keep holding on no matter what. But she’s only grabbing his hands, not leaving him, and he’ll see that soon so she continues to drag him towards the stupid, little button that her useless fingers couldn’t seem to undo. In hindsight, maybe they were just waiting for him.

Realizing, his forehead is off hers quickly, eyes seeking hers. “What? I don’t—” She flattens his palms against her stomach, engulfing the button, and he breathes the last word out— “understand.”

Her brows raise, cheeks still on fire but now also burning— yes you do.

“Are you sure?” He asks but there’s a little click— the same one she hadn’t heard earlier— as his boot clad foot kicks the door properly shut, and she’s pretty sure he knows just how sure she is.

All it takes is her thumbs on his, prodding them towards her arch nemesis— damn you, Levi jeans— and the soldier is moving, not rough in his quick actions, but determined. The button is no match for Steve Rogers on a regular day, but today? Now that he has a goal? A starting place? The button may as well have disintegrated under his fingers.

Her own hands fly to his shoulders, clinging to him as he tugs the blasted jeans off her legs, trying the best she can not to topple over with the sheer force of him. Material pooling at her feet, his palms smooth so slowly back up her now bare legs, rising goosebumps in their wake. She hasn’t been touched in ages— she feels kind of like an animal waking up from hibernation, disorientated and hungry.

Grabbing at her hips suddenly, her ass is on the cool countertop before she even has the chance to get dizzy. Spreading her thighs with his own, he works on her bra next— this faded, hole ridden thing that if she wasn’t so engulfed in searing, licking desire, she’d probably be embarrassed about. But it’s gone so soon that she doesn’t have a chance and replaced instead with two, bulky hands that entirely engulf her breasts.

They squeeze her skillfully— with purpose. Thumbs swiping delicious circles around her nipples, flicking this way and that, exactly how he knows she likes it— exactly the way that should have her as a mewling heap in his hold. But she’s not— she’s contained, even as her very skin thrums alive with anticipation. Is this revenge or is it just fucking complicated?

She can’t decide so instead she bites the moan clawing at her throat into small enough pieces to swallow, all the while tuning into something dark that sparks in his ever watchful gaze.

She’s caught— he gets it now.

“Really, baby?” He muses, palming her, squeezing just hard enough to give the touch a slight bite. His tone has her feeling like a deer in his headlights— like a freight train is barrelling directly at her and there’s nowhere to go— and she squeezes her thighs around him, welcoming the collision. “You think I won’t work for it?”

She only blinks at him. Once… twice…

Her panties are dropped somewhere into the abyss, long forgotten with the rest of her clothes, and his knees thud heavily against the tiled floor. Replacing his body, his head now hovers right in front of a different button, golden hair tickling her sensitive skin as he pulls her legs over his thick shoulders. His skin is warm but not as much as his balmy breath which hits her clit, teasing her into a mess, hands curling around the edge of the counter.

Come on, Steve.

But, no, he doesn’t give in to her just yet. First, he turns to her inner thigh, sucking her skin into his mouth with bruising pressure before letting it go with a pop. He peers up— nothing. Moving to the other one, he whispers quick kisses over her sex but never lingers, only biting into her flesh once more once across her mound, teeth almost teasing a whimper from her this time but no, she’s not budging.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t driving her crazy. Inside, she screams— she craves. C’mon baby just give it to me. Outwardly, her hands drunkenly find his hair, tugging at his soft locks. Now, now, now she chants furiously.

He unseals his lips from her thigh, peering up, less dangerous and back to being her ever hopeful boyfriend— is her her boyf— He kisses her folds, spongy lips lingering a moment, rendering her blank and feverish. Angelic— he’s angelic. From under his long lashes he all but begs her, his dark eyes starving and wanting, but his hands are so soft on her hips, massaging deep into her. It’s this mixture of puppy dog pleading and a knowing of sorts— he knows she’s going to cave eventually.

How does he do that?

“Words? Please?”

She only pouts and, again, the switch flips. “Fine.”

The word is punctuated with the warm, wet stripe he licks up her center, flicking his tongue languidly over her clit. For as rushed as he’d started this mission, he’s truly never been one to speed through his meals, preferring instead to devour her slowly— expertly— tasting her thoroughly like he has all the time in the world. Meanwhile her body pulses, teetering dangerously already on the knife-sharp edge of too much and too little as he masterfully carves her out.

Her hands, which had moments ago tried to pull him closer, now use his hair as handles to keep herself from toppling off the counter when he slides her closer to him, burying his face fully into her heat. Heels digging into his back, she watches the spot where his shirt rides up intently, consumed not only by the harsh sucking on her clit but also the tanned, muscled skin peeking out and then disappearing below his own jeans, taunting her. Why hadn’t she taken it off him first?

She doesn’t have time to think much more about it though because he’s ravenous and she may as well be ice cream, sweet and sticky, melting all over him, dripping down the sides of his face and fingers as they begin prodding against her. They tease, pushing into her but not quite far enough— hard enough.

His gaze on her is overpowering— it’s deliberate.

“Y’know,” he speaks against her, the vibrations making her tense, “you can just tell me what you want ‘and I'll do it.”

Her mouth is like sandpaper— her brain, uncooperative. This push and pull is becoming lethal, the next few pokes of his tongue honey slow and spine jolting. Please— she wants to beg. She’s so empty. So, so, achingly empty. Would his fingers even be enough? At this point, it’s as though he would need to crawl into her very chest to fill her up the way she needs to be. How could her words even convey something so needy?

“Anything, baby. Whatever you want.”

They can’t, so they don’t, but for the sounds she refuses to make, he doubles in his own, moaning his frustrations right against her. If he can’t make her say anything, he damn sure is going to make her do something. That’s probably why he finally caves, pushing his fingers in to the hilt, and she was stupid to think they couldn’t fill her, the slight burn of them not at all foreign but definitely intense.

As they bury themselves in her over and over and over again, she bucks against his hand, chasing the start of a little ball of electricity growing in the pit of her stomach, getting higher and higher with every twist of his fingers. Combined with the incessant flick of his tongue— she’s a goner. Stifling the moan, her teeth find home in her lip, biting so hard her mouth gains a slight tang that excites her even more. What’s she even doing?

Wouldn’t it be more fun if she just let loose? Isn’t that what’s been missing the whole time? The fun?

When she sees the glint in his piercing stare— impish despite everything they’ve been through— she gets it. It’s hopeless— she is and they are but they’re together and the fun isn’t gone— she’s done. He earned it.

“Stevie—” she finally cries, animalistic; it doesn’t sound like his name but he must know it is because, even with the intense throbbing consuming her entire body, she can feel his shoulders soften under her thighs— “please don’t stop, I’m so close!”

“That’s it baby,” he coos against her clit, voice raw, compliant as he continues to pump his fingers in time to her squirming, “that’s my girl. I missed that pretty voice of yours.”

At what point the first orgasm turns into a second, she isn’t sure. It’s all one big blur of her whiny moans, wanton and liquid body, and his hushed prayers against her flushed skin, tongue lapping relentlessly against her. More baby; I know you can give me more. She doesn’t so much hear them as she does become them, absorbing them into her skin. That’s it angel— so good, so good for me.

She can feel him drinking in her mumbled, jagged noises, some words but others mere syllables, coaxed out of her by tongue and fingers all the same. Steve— honey— mmph, fuck, right there— oh my— the words pour out now, dam broken beyond repair, and for some reason, or maybe a lack thereof, it spurs her on even more, a freed woman if ever there was one—

“Oh my god, Stevie!”

It’s maddening— he’s maddening.

He’s relentless.

It isn’t until she yanks his still-eager mouth away from her, stomach iron-tense from way too much overstimulation, does he slowly draw his hand reluctantly back from her shuddering body. His other arm unwinds from where it’s been snaked around her knee, anchoring her to him throughout the duration of his worship. Now pushing him upright, holding him just near enough to where she can hear his labored breaths but not feel them, she shivers, cold as ice without his heat.

He stares down at her, unmoving, and her heart jumps in her chest. She doesn’t understand— he’s just standing there while she shudders, breathless. His shirt is stretched, no doubt from her pulling at it, and in noticing the damage she remembers how she’s completely naked and he’s completely not. Exposed doesn’t even begin to touch how she feels.

She wraps her arms around her chest, knees drawing up to tuck under her chin. “Steve?”

She’d forgotten what it felt like to constantly have him next to her— to have his furnace like warmth melting into her skin almost every minute. Now that she’s had her first real taste of him again, she’s de-acclimated to being alone. She needs him.

“C’mere,” she begs, shaking and a bit confused, why isn’t he touching her still, “please, Stevie, come back.”

When her fingers finally swipe against his shirt, barely snagging it, he flinches, coming back to her. “Sorry baby, I didn’t mean—”

She flings herself at him, heart off kilter and erratic in her chest as her lips press against his, swallowing his apologies and hoping beyond anything else that he just catches her, like he always does. He does, kissing her back fervently— reverently. His tongue, tinted with her essence, scoops into her mouth the same way he had been between her thighs. She welcomes the way he takes charge, knowing he holds her against him with every ounce of strength he has.

“—’m sorry,” he pants into her mouth, clearly not satisfied with the success of her attack, “so, so sorry baby.”

He repeats the words deliriously. Presses them into her hair and against her temple, on her chin and both her cheeks. He especially feeds them to her, word for word, against her lips, soft at first and then rough, frenzied. He’s not talking about right now. He’s still back in that apartment; the fallen angel amongst the rubble, wings too broken to just leave it.

It’s not complicated. And it’s not revenge, because she could never make him feel worse than he already does, nor would she want to. So, in between kisses and apologies, she answers.

“I know, Stevie.”

“It’s ok— we’re ok, Stevie.”

“Steve, stop— I love you!”

He stops. He sets her down, bare feet planting unsteady against the ground. He steps back. What?

“Stevie?” She questions, already moving forward, but his arms, sweeping over his head, towing his shirt up and off, halt her in her tracks.

Oh.

This time, when she says his name it's only a breathy moan, fingers searching for his belt loops and hooking him towards her. In the time it takes for her hands to find the button— this one, thankfully, popping open immediately— there must be a god somewhere who didn’t abandon them in the rubble— he’s back on her, one hand carefully threading through her hair, dragging her mouth back to his, while the other pushes the rest of his clothes to the ground.

“I love you, I love— ah, fuck,” he hisses as her hand wraps around him, thumb brushing over his velvety tip.

For the first time, she smiles against his mouth, calm. “Language, Rogers.”

He pulls back, one neat eyebrow flicked up, but there’s humor in his eyes— no more tension. No more worry. Just fun. He leans down, nuzzling his chin down the side of her face, breath fanning her ear. Her hand stutters as it tugs on him, dragging up and down. He’s so hard— it’s been so damn long.

“Thought I was Stevie, baby?” It’s an absent minded tease, blush lips parted even after the fact, glued to the way she touches him.

In turn she watches his face, crowned in a mussed up halo of gold, some of which sticks to his forehead but most falling at every which angle, a product of her thighs sealing themselves around him. She can’t say that she’s never seen him this disheveled but she’ll never get used to it. He’s perfect— she makes him so messy.

Clearly, she hadn’t been the only one enjoying herself, though, if the heaviness of him between her fingers, rutting into her palm is anything to go by. She squeezes harder, testing something, and he groans something almost inhuman against her neck. Guttural. He’s so close already. It fuels her like nothing else, tickling the part of her that just wants to please. She’s making reparations, too. Speeding up, she works him faster. Come on, honey.

“Stevie—” she echoes and the next thing she knows, he’s pulling her off him, pushing her towards the steam which billows out from behind the curtain.

From the moment her feet touch the warm, wet surface of the shower floor, everything is a blur. The water sprays over her harshly, but only for a moment, before he overpowers it with his own, massive body, just as searing against her skin. She registers the slick splat of her back against the wall, a grunt— missed this, baby, and her own feral howl as he slams into her. There’s no waiting, no tiptoeing, only his cock sealing them together furiously once more.

One of her legs is hiked up impossibly far, hinging near his hip where his hand crushes her to him. The other leg holds her up— barely— heel raised, toes splaying for grip as she reaches higher. He’s just so big— so tall and so thick. So impossible to adequately open herself to without him fully lifting her but she wants to try so she does her best to meet his brutal pace, clinging around his neck desperately.

If his fingers had filled her entirely, his cock is almost unbearable. She relishes it, though, the way she can almost feel him in her damn throat with each and every drag. It’s mesmerizing, the way there’s no need for adjustment— for remembering. He knows her body like it’s his own and it makes her drool with pleasure.

The slapping of their skin together proves to be louder than the rush of the water, but not more so than Steve whose mouth is working over time, ladeling praises directly into her ear, soaked, stubbly chin grating deliciously against her temple.

“You look so pretty baby,” he hums, staring mesmerized at their bodies to where he slips in and out of her, “ look at you taking me so well.”

And she does.

It’s a lewd notion, the way she can see exactly where he is inside her by the way her belly ripples with his plunges, but one that makes her gasp nonetheless, spasming around him which is also visible to both of them. Loosening one of her hands from its vice grip on his shoulder, he places it on the exact spot, urging her to feel just how big he is. With every sloppy push and pull, she does feel it, and it sends her reeling.

“See that?” He rasps, and she can only nod, mouth agape enough for some of the water falling off his hair to drip into it.

She swallows it, tongue somehow so, so dry despite everything. Her nerves are on fire, everything so much slower than it should be.

The agonizing pull of his hand on hers, dragging her own fingers under his to toy with her clit.

The little circles that take hours to complete but nurture the current running through her veins regardless.

The fucking torturous in and out of his cock— taunting her, languidly pounding her for what feels like an eternity— she can’t think. She’s in the water but she feels under it, too, foggy and pent up. She just wants to cum—

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna—”

“—Stevie!”

She breaks through the sluggish pleasure into electric and all consuming waves, head falling against the wall as his hips stutter against hers, pumping once, then twice, before falling still. Each time, she clenches harder, babbling something gritty and foul and incomprehensible. Something along the lines of holy fucking shit baby but its blurred with searing, pulsing pleasure.

There’s stars behind her eyes and steam in her nose as he falls against her chest, sopping hair tickling her hypersensitive skin. Him pulling feels like what two exposed wires touching must— all sparky and hot. It’s too much.

“Mmm, careful baby,” she mumbles and he chuckles.

“Of course.”

The rest is truly a lull. Steve doesn’t bother gathering their clothes, only her, carrying her limp body to the bed and carefully setting her under the covers, dripping and all, before joining her. If she weren’t so sleepy, she would have scolded him. But she is and her eyes are refusing to stay open, let alone give him that look. It’s all she can do = to seek his warm skin once more, slithering against his body and rooting herself there.

Cauterized, or something like it.

#Steve Rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #marvel smut #MCU smut #Avengers smut #dizzy is BACK #did you miss me?

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vodika-vibes · 1 month

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Absolutely forgot about your new event! Congrats on the five hundred follower count vod'ika! I may send in a few, but for this oneI'm going with my birth stone, clone husband, and fave season <3

May I have Garnet with Rex in summer, where maybe he spots reader (fem or gn!) looking extremely uncomfortable from unwanted attention (nothing inherentlyuncomfortble in terms of sexually harassing or being violent, but just highly intimidating) when it's dusk? And Rex shoos the person away?

Hero

Summary: Rex’s favorite part of the day is when he’s able to pull away from his work to spend time with his girl. He’s not so impressed, though, when he goes to find her and sees her getting threatened by someone nearly a foot taller than her.

Pairing: Captain Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 658

Prompt: Garnet - Protective Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you! I hope you like this story. Protective Love is hard while having a word count limit, lol, but I hope you like it anyway~

This is his favorite part of the day.

His idiots, and he calls them that with all of the love in his heart, have been released to go and get drunk or whatever it is that they do with their free time. And he’s finally able to leave the barracks to go and meet up with his girl.

It’s hot and miserable outside, which means they’ll probably head back to her place to lounge by her pool.

For a moment, just a moment, Rex allows himself to fantasize about his stunning love clad in a blue bikini, while the setting sun paints her with golden highlights and makes her look like an actual goddess deserving of worship.

And then he shoves the thought to the back of his mind, and continues to their meeting spot.

His good mood remains, right up until he gets to the meeting spot and sees his cyare looking very uncomfortable with a man towering over her. She takes half a step back, and then man advances on her, to remain right in her personal space.

Rex scowls as he inserts himself into the situation. No one is allowed to make his cyare uncomfortable. “Sorry I’m late, cyare.” Rex says as he presses himself between his cyare and the stranger.

He feels her hand curl around his bicep, her touch light, “You’re not late, I showed up early.”

Rex lightly pats the hand wrapped around his arm, and he smiles slightly when she drops her hand. And then he focuses his attention on the stranger, who looks deeply, deeply annoyed that Rex interjected.

“Can we help you?” Rex’s voice is mild, but there’s a thread of durasteel and a hint of violence there as well. His cyare likely won’t pick up on it…but the stranger definitely does based on how he grimaces.

“Nah. I was just…” The stranger pauses, “It doesn’t matter.” He turns and stalks away. Rex doesn’t turn to his cyare, though, until he’s sure that no one is going to start anything.

And then he turns to his cyare, and all of the negative emotions he’d been feeling fade away as though they were never there.

“I’m sorry,” She says, as she steps into his space, sliding into his welcoming arms, “I didn’t mean for you to have to get involved.”

“Hey,” He rests his chin on her head, “It’s my genuine pleasure to be able to protect you, cyare.”

She hums softly, “You shouldn’t have to protect me. I should be safe here.”

“Well, until you are, you have me to be your sword and shield.”

A laugh falls from his cyare, “Oh, when did you become charming, Rex?” She asks as she pulls away to look up at him, fondness in her gaze.

Rex’s face heats, “Well…you know…Jesse-”

She laughs again, “You don’t have to change yourself for me, Rex. I love you just as you are. Awkwardness and all.” She takes his hand in hers, “Now, let’s go home. It’s hot.”

“We’re going swimming?” He asks, maybe more than a little hopeful.

She grins and nods, “I bought us matching swimsuits. They were on sale.”

“What kind of swimsuits?” Rex asks as he falls into step with her.

“For you?”

“For you.”

She giggles and and moves so she’s walking backwards in front of him, one finger coming out to lightly tap his nose, “It’s a secret~”

“That means it’s a bikini, right?” Rex asks, not even bothering to hide the direction his thoughts have gone.

“It means it’s a secret.” She leans in, “But I promise you’ll like it.”

“Cyar’ika. You could walk around in a burlap sack, and I’d still like it.” He pauses, “Or ribbons-”

“Really? Ribbons?”

He smiles innocently, “If you want.”

“I think you’ve been spending too much time with Fives and Jesse.”

“Yeah, but they give the best ideas.”

She shakes her head with a laugh, “Come on, Rex. Let’s go home.”

#star wars #tcw #vodika vibes 500 followers celebration #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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raytorosaurus · 2 years

Text

Sorry that this post is long but I would appreciate it if other white people read it and thought about it. I've been reading a lot of posts and the tags on them and I just want to make it very clear that this conversation isn't really about Ray getting 'attention' or his talent getting acknowledged. We should not be minimising this to “we need to acknowledge that Ray is an excellent guitar player” because everyone knows that, all you need is ears. True, it went largely unappreciated by fans at the height of mcr’s fame, but at least that's different now. What we're talking about now is about so much more than that - in fact, part of the problem is Ray getting reduced to nothing but the guy who shuts up and does the solos. We're talking about a pattern of behaviour that has been so deeply rooted in this fandom for so long that it's almost invisible to white people. It's a collective problem but it's perpetuated by individuals and needs to be addressed at an individual level first before it can begin to change.

I will acknowledge that, at least in my circles, things have started to change a little bit this tour in regards to people noticing him and discussing him beyond just his solos. But on the flipside that's only highlighted the larger issue, which boils down to how differently Ray is treated from the rest of the band. This is a consistent pattern. If he's not being ignored, he's behind separated out and set apart from the others - either being put on a weird pedestal or given suspiciously backhanded compliments.

Back in 2020 when I'd be lucky to see three posts about him a day on my dash I used to spend a lot of time scrolling through old inactive blogs to queue Ray pictures. Back in the pre-breakup days, if he wasn't being called "princess fro fro" he was being called ugly or he was the target of straight-up racial slurs. There was a weird narrative that he like, lowkey bullied Frank or took more credit than he deserved for mcr's guitar parts (which is painfully ridiculous and only proves that nobody paid attention to a single word Ray's ever said). Until very recently, the punchline of one of the main "jokes" (quotation marks because the word joke implies it was ever actually funny in the first place lol) in this fandom relied on Ray being at least casually homophobic. And these were blogs that posted Ray - I can only imagine how much worse the people who actively didn't like him would have been.

Nowadays, I post a lot of Ray content so I see a lot of tags from people outside my circle of mutuals. Let me tell you, there are Patterns. First of all, there's the classic "tags that completely ignore Ray to make the Ray post about Frank and/or Gerard instead." But more and more often what I'm seeing is if he's not being infantilised, he's being treated as some hyper-masculine, omni-competent, suave sex god or something - each of these things are equally reductive and dehumanising - and each of them are different manifestations of racist stereotypes and common fandom attitudes towards people of colour. Sure, Frank also gets weirdly infantilised a lot, but in a very different way - Frank is woobified in the way people often treat their fictional faves out of affection and horniness, whereas Ray is just reduced down to a personalityless nice guy - something that is also very common with fictional characters of colour. Then there are people who act like he's some kind of long-suffering untouchable genius who puts up with the little weirdos in his band because they worship his talent or something, as if he's not on equal footing with them as their peer and creative partner. And then you get the people characterising him as some kind of rough macho domineering dude because he's…tall? I guess? And plays guitar with confidence? Or is it just because he's brown.

I just..genuinely want you to sit down and think about a reason Ray might be singled out and separated from the rest of the band like this.

Is it because he's quiet in interviews? Mikey was always quieter. Also, Ray has done a lot more interviews than you think, they just haven't been circulated by fans as much. Also, he's literally the second-most featured band member in lotms - you know, the almost sole source for their fandom-driven personalities back in the day.

Is it because he's less feminine than the others? Both Mikey and Frank regularly present as more traditionally masculine in their fashion choices and mannerisms etc. The only thing “more masculine” about Ray than the others is...his body type I guess. There’s a whole conversation there about the intersection of gender and race and racist perceptions thereof.

Is it because he's private and keeps out of the public eye? So does Gerard.

Is it because people historically found him less attractive than the others? I shouldn't have to explain that that was the racism all along (yes, I know there's no accounting for taste, but Ray was regularly and actively mocked for his non-white features, and noughties beauty standards, especially in the alt music scene, were overwhelmingly white and racist. I regularly get tags to the effect of "when did Ray get so hot???" and honestly it's pretty telling that he's only widely acknowledged as attractive now that he's lost weight (whole other important discussion on fatphobia in this fandom here btw) and his hair has changed texture and beauty standards have shifted so certain racial features are fetishised rather than mocked.

Is it because he wasn't involved in one of the iconic bandom boylove duos? News flash, all "ships" are made up fan theories. Rpf and/or tinhatting is based on what fans notice and what rumours they perpetuate. Besides them kissing on stage a few times to make a point over 15 years ago, you know frerard lore because people talk about frerard lore. You know petekey lore because people talk about petekey lore. The truth is nobody cared enough to pay attention to Ray back then. (To be clear, this isn't me trying to tinhat anything about him, I'm just once again pointing out the obvious disparity in how Ray is treated compared to the others.)

I consistently see people acting baffled at how he's been behaving this tour - skipping or bouncing around the stage, eating his solos up, being physically affectionate with his bandmates. I can tell you he has literally always acted like that. Sure, this tour is special - he's certainly a lot more confident than he used to be and seems happier than ever, but really the biggest thing that's changed is now we get full footage of every show so it's literally impossible to overlook.

I also see people acting baffled when others point out the way Ray's been mistreated by fandom - being shocked that anyone would crop Ray out of band photos etc. I guarantee you that almost every single one of you has reblogged pictures where he's been actively cropped out, because some of the most iconic Frank-and-Gerard pictures that constantly get passed around on here are just that. "But how would we know" - sure, it's not your fault, but it's a small example of the way the more blatant Ray erasure from the past gets passed down to new fans and perpetuated by them unknowingly in turn. Cropping him out of pictures is just the tip of the iceberg in terms of how his talent and personality and significance to the emotional heart of the band has been overlooked. I can't tell you how many iconic well-known quotes from interviews or paragraphs from Not the Life it Seems directly precede facts about/quotes from Ray that nobody seems to have heard.

So again, this is not really a popularity thing - it's hard to measure but I'd say in the past few months Ray's overtaken Mikey in terms of mass popularity, at least on tumblr. You don't need to performatively post once a day about how Ray Toro Is God or how much you want him to rail you or how much you want him to rail your white fave because "he's the only one who can top" (you Realise how this sounds right?). I'm just asking you to confront your internalised biases and the external biases ingrained in the culture and history of this fandom, and start treating Ray the same way you treat the rest of the guys. He's not an untouchable god and he's not a sunshine cupcake, he's just Some Guy who's really fucking good at guitar. He's a proud stay at home dad, he's cringe as fuck, he loves to cook, he listens to podcasts about fucking Apple products for fun, he writes (very) shitty poetry, he takes his sons to women's rights marches, he invests in bitcoin, he cries when his mom sends him postcards, he drives a douchey car, he loves children's cartoons, he's a corny liberal just like the others, he loves his friends wholly and openly. Just…please acknowledge the history of racism in this fandom, think about how you as an individual might knowingly or unknowingly perpetuate it, and try to do better. And please just treat him like a human.

#at least we're HAVING this conversation it's so so much worse on twitter #anyway. i've discussed and complained about a lot of this stuff on discord and that's my bad for not talking about it more publicly #like. i don't want to come off as just bitter about my fave or something because it's a much deeper problem that #but that just means i need to be very clear abt my point #hopefully you give this post the time of day i know it's long but i do think it's important #ray toro #racism #ref #**#gonna pin this for a bit too

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enam3l · 1 year

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some fic writers to read who aren't me

there's so many amazing writers on here who ultimately made me want to contribute to the eddie thirst and it's just nice to have more series to follow and binge so these are all my absolute faves and you should follow and read and drown the writers in praise!

these are just my all time faves but i always reblog what i like so check that out too!

ps: I will make another list of this but exclusively just slutty eddie reads, pure filth

✹ @andvys love will tear us apart series this is absolutely phenomenal, i am addicted! i honestly check multiple times a day for new parts. there's prequels as well to feed my cravings as well

✹ @pxrxcxa opposite ends top tier enemies to lovers fic! dustin's sister is one of my favourite tropes and they do it so well. perfect slow burn

✹ @thefreakymunson anywhere but here i couldn't not give you a rockstar eddie fic and this is one of the best! it's a really unique take on it and just fun, hot and angsty

✹ @nyxoz follow the oz writes eddie munson tag my go to for eddie smut because it's always so fucking hot but there's also some gorgeous fluff bits like i just love their eddie! just check the tag there's so much

✹ @kissitbttr eddie x mean cheerleader but also all the other eddie fics because their fem readers are all loud mouth slightly terrifying girls and i am a true believer that this is eddie's type to the core, they're the perfect match. as a scary loud girl, her characters speak to me

✹ @chaseadrian live wire another novel worthy series that's so original and just stunning! angsty and sexy as hell

✹ @ambrossart dancing with myself this one i hold dear to my heart. i love the concept so much and so much work went into it. i love love the backstory of eddie and reader and the way the characters are portrayed is amazing. a 10/10 chrissy portrayal

✹ @munsonquinns forbidden fruit total unapologetic delicious filth. this is so sexy but also a really sweet storyline and take on eddie?

✹ @inknopewetrust hoping i'll find (a glimpse of us) if you want a one shot, this is it. wanna cry? this is it. it's like a whole short story. i have reread this multiple times and each time i do it's all i think about for the rest of the day

✹ @riotkayla finding the truth this was the first eddie series i read and i adore it. it's just such a good concept and got me hooked on dad eddie

✹ @luveline june baby and eddie and roan (single dad eddie) i feel like if you on stranger things fanfic tumblr then you know them, they've never made a bad fic but these are my favourites. june baby is like a novel, so carefully considered and written. prepare for your heart to swell twice its size

#enam3l x eddie #Eddie munson #Eddie munson fanfic #fic rec #eddie munson smut #Eddie munson fluff #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson x reader

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sin-sidejob · 1 year

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Inside Job — New Years

warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, 18+, mentions of sex, allusions to sex, heavy petting, makeout, mentions of alcohol and food, limited consumption of alcohol and or food, genderless reader, gender-neutral pronouns and pet names, mentions of family.

contents: pretty mild considering my other work but tagged adult for safety. cute kissing and making out with your faves, their new or old holiday traditions, mentions of food and drinks and holiday fun. Happy New Year drama free and fillied with fun. Hope y'all enjoy!

a/n: Happy New Years!! From me and the shadow board to you all!! 💖

Brett Hand

the two of you manage to tuck into the corner of the bar you were celebrating in, Brett wanting to join in on the tradition you had with your friends of celebrating out on the town for New Year's and having fun with the family you've found and enjoying the moments and the hijinks that nearly always tend to ensue.

Brett, for some reason, keeps thinking that your friends don't like him when they've threatened you with either stealing him away should you ever hurt him or break his heart or just outright trading you out for Brett. You can't say you're upset, you'd say the same thing. You love this man.

"Thank you for letting me come along!" He exclaims over the music and the noise, bringing you a refill from the bar of the drink you had, making sure to take your drinks and cover them whenever you stepped away or had to use the restroom, taking a sip to assure you they were safe even though you trusted him with your life and told him so, constantly, "I'm having a lot of fun, your friends are kinda' great."

"Funny, they're saying the same about you honey," you murmur in his ear, taking the opportunity to talk low and drape yourself across him like velvet in the cadence of the atmosphere, "telling me everything I already know about, like how wonderful you are, how charming and sweet you can be. How handsome and smart you are," you carry on, littering kisses on the underside of his jaw, uncaring for anyone who manages to see.

"My Brett."

"Your Brett?" he laughs, hesitant and a little nervous, surprised at how affected he is by that statement on your lips. He feels you nod against him as you drape the hand holding your drink over his shoulder while you press your forehead against his neck. "Mhm, they keep threatin' to replace me with you should I treat you wrong."

"Really?"

You nod in response against him, not noting the awe and surprise in his tone and how taken aback he is, always forgetting how your boy is so easily swayed by himself into thinking he's lesser when in reality, he's everything and more. The countdown begins, and quickly you're joined by your friends all gathering around to yell along with the ball drop and for the new year to begin, meanwhile you can't be bothered and have been unable to look away from Brett since the moment you laid eyes on him this morning in bed.

"Absolutely. Wanna' show off and be my kiss at midnight?" and Brett nods enthusiastically in response, taking the drink from your hand and downing it on one, very frat-like, go and bringing you back close to tell you how much he loves you between the both of you. He kisses you into the New Year and manages to do it for the rest of them, and they always feel just the same. Otherworldly.

JR Scheimpough

you celebrate New Year's at a party the two of you were invited to, dressing to the nine's and going out to dinner beforehand at some restaurant that was probably already booked out for weeks, if not months, and yet getting let in with ease from barely any effort from JR. Show off. After dinner, the two of you take a ride and head up to the party from the invitation, a top-floor party at some politician or CEO's place, a big band in full swing with an open bar. It's a black-tie event and you're glad you planned accordingly because you still both look more expensive than the rest do altogether. The two of you manage to sneak a few messy kisses in the elevator before you arrived on the floor, being able to fix his hair after nearly ruining it just before the doors open. If it's noticeable that he's flushed and his lips are puffy, no one comments on it.

after the usual schmoozing and small talk, the both of you sneak away to a balcony overlooking the D.C. spread, wind merciful and not being as cold as it could be in the night. JR comes back after refilling your drink to find you draped over the balcony and admiring the view before he joins you, commenting something coy in your ear and getting you to giggle before he hands you your drink and you both cheer, something murmured about great company and another year down, another to go as you clink your glasses together and drink in celebration.

After sipping away at the sparkling drink within the crystal flutes, he sets them both aside so he can take you in his arms and hold onto you while swaying to the music playing from indoors, Life Is but a Dream by The Harptones crooning low as you get swept up into JR's strong, steady arms and get spun out then brought back to his chest, your arms sidling around his neck as you play with the short hairs at the nape.

The song slows to something more melodious and lilting, Chopin if you had to guess, and listen to the countdown begin. He keeps you calm and grounded as the cheering picks up in volume, a large hand encompassing your hip locking you in the moment and not letting you get swept up away in the current of it all.

You get to soak up the moment with him, feel strong arms wrap around your waist as he makes you forget everyone else around you both, the countdown from the next room, and the fireworks nearly a city away firing off in the distance. All you can feel is him and his touch, the brush of his nose against your pulse as he hums the notes of songs that play softly against your skin, inhaling your perfumed scent as you sway chest to chest, wholly enveloped with each other rather than anyone else. You start the new year off right, with each other, and it's better than any other year you've had already.

Your gloved hand grasps his chin and lifts his head up to hover near yours, watching his eyes blink open and lid half-shut, peering down at you with a concoction of adoration and lust pooling in dark eyes. Counting down, you murmur the digits in the space between you both, telling him happy new year just before you kiss him and the new year begins, the old one still close by as you let him make you forget about it all.

He’s your New Year's kiss and every resolution you could make.

Alpha Beta Robotus

It's his first New Year beyond being locked up in the basement or left in tube-based solitary confinement. With that in mind and you making sure you take him home with you, not letting anyone have the mere idea of stopping you and your plan for the midnight countdown, you've set yourself on a mission to start the new year with him. And you intend on making it a good one.

"You've got mistletoe?" Alpha Beta stares quizzically up at the plant you've managed to hang high on your ceiling above the doorway to your kitchen between the hallway where you both now stand, "Isn't that a little excessive?"

"Only if you suddenly have lost interest and are letting me know that I've now got to find someone else to supply my kisses up to the New Year." You shoot back, looking up at him with a shit-eating grin he is tempted to kiss off, now that you've mentioned it, standing in your fuzzy socks upon the hardwood waiting for the sitcom-loving robotic bastard to just kiss you already.

While you're contemplating on whether to tug him in by the lapels or by his hair, Alpha Beta leans down and cups your cheek before kissing you tenderly, softly, with all the grace and poise of a noir heartthrob in one of those films you see off the classic movie channel. "No, I don't think I've lost any interest."

"That's sweet and all, but I'm afraid you'll just have to remind me, thoroughly." you murmur, eyes darting between his and then back down to his mouth, returning to glance up into glacier eyes just before he tugs you closer with a strong arm around your waist as he presses his lips to yours once more. He's picked up humming as he kisses you, another trait he's mirrored and adopted over time, and it feels better knowing that Alpha Beta's kissed you so many times he can't help but mirror it back to you.

By the time the countdown nears, he's got you spread and sidled on his lap, thighs encasing his as his fingers slide beneath the waistband of your pants and over your underwear, teasing you in strokes that match the tempo of the countdown and leave you keening against him impatiently. He tuts and chides at the show you're putting on and just as the countdown ends and the new year begins, you tug him into a kiss by his hair and he groans low, jaw clicking mechanically as his eyes glow a fraction before shutting.

Alpha Beta's hand finally begins to play with you properly and by the time you breach for air, you're dazed and beaming, already looking fucked out as you keep him close by his half-undone tie and grin.

"Happy New Year, AB, now fuck me until I forget it."

Gigi Thompson

She doesn't get a lot of solid downtime to spend with friends or family, so when she gets to enjoy herself and hang out with her loved ones, she goes all out. Gigi spent the holidays at home with you but convinced you to join along with her trip down to Georgia to see her family for New Year's, claiming that you're family to her the same as they are.

After a flight that took no time at all, spending it eating snacks and watching comedy specials, you manage to get to her parent's house in no time. The visit isn't as daunting as it could be, you having made the basic introductions and impressions at her family reunion last summer, already knowing her parents well enough to help out with cooking or setting up rather than just being left to stand around as a guest. You get the family treatment and damn if it doesn't make you a little teary-eyed.

"And you didn't think that they liked you," Gigi comments after prep is all set up and done, the two of you out on the back porch drinking tea and enjoying weather that's at least slightly warmer than D.C. "I can't help it, I'm always going to try and make a good impression, no matter how long I'll know them for."

Gigi laughs and gives you a pitying pat on the knee which you playfully swat away before she sips at her iced tea. "Can't be that bad, and besides, it's New Year's Day that's the eventful time. Eve just means drinking and talkin' shit before the rest pile on in tomorrow. That's when the real shit starts."

"Noted," you murmur into your glass before seeing the soft light of the house behind you both reflect on her face and how the night air makes her just glow. Her parents mention the countdown starting from inside but leave you both to your own devices. You take her hand in yours and squeeze gently, her matching it and then counting down between grasps of each other's palms as the countdown gets closer and closer to midnight.

Setting your drinks aside, you brush her hair back behind her ear and cup her cheek, careful not to muss her makeup if you can help it. "Love you, Gigi," you murmur, enjoying how her eyes don't hide the emotion in them, seeing her reciprocate in look before words. "Love you too, baby," she shoots back, lips in a blushy grin. You hear the final numbers said aloud and hear her parents celebrate from inside, maybe even a bottle popping, but you only focus on the woman before you as you pull her close and kiss her over and over again, starting a New Year tradition you'd like to continue to the rest of y'all's days. You do.

Reagan Ridley

With everything going on in her life, the last thing she needed was some unnecessary party that she'd have to get all dressed up for, fake some smiles, and give some unwilling hugs, all the while wanting to be curled up at home with you. And that's what she proposes and does. You have a lazy day, not even bothering to change out of pajamas until necessary, and even then you both change into clean sweats and old sweatshirts or tees. It's much needed, a lazy holiday, especially just being able to talk about everything and nothing while being sprawled across the couch or your bed and enjoying one another.

She's got movies selected and queued for the whole day, a mix of your collected favorites and some new ones the two of you had been meaning to watch but hadn't had the time to until today. Snack breaks come regularly, absolutely enjoying yourself while gorging down chips and popcorn and your favorite snacks while you've got Reagan's legs in your lap and toss bits of candy or popcorn into her mouth.

Her New Year's were always filled with family drama or facades, but this year, for the first time in a long time, she gets to enjoy it fully and not fake her smiles into something unreal. No, you earn and deserve every single crooked one thrown your way from her and you cherish each one received more than the last. There are naps and intermissions and moments where neither of you say a word for the entirety of the movie, only knowing each other are awake from slight movements or each other's hands grazing across each other's body. Other times the two of you are laughing so hard you're crying, over literally nothing at all and struggling for breath. The type of wheezing, hysteric, can-barely-hold-it-together laughter. It's a good sight on her.

The two of you are nearing the end of another movie when Reagan glances at the clock and sees that midnight is approaching fast. She scrambles up and into her kitchen, yelling from the other room that there's no need to pause the movie - which you do anyways - and hear her shuffle about and pull something from the fridge and pop a cork. She pours glasses and brings in two flutes of something bubbly and bright, either champagne or sparkling cider, and whatever graces your tongue has you grinning at her in your tattered sweater and fuzzy pants with the snoopy print.

Taking in the moment, you pull up onto the screen the ball drop and curl up against one another, infectious grins on both of your faces as you watch the countdown and share the experience. It's memorable and you'll never let go of the feeling you have when you're right beside her, hand in hers. It's electric.

Reagan kisses at your knuckle from your conjoined hands as her eyes are glued to the screen, counting along with the hosts for the ball drop meanwhile you're too enamored with her to look anywhere else, knowing you are exactly where you want to be now and want to be next New Years, and hopefully many more after that. She turns and spots your soft smile and blushes before the two of you knock your foreheads together, counting down the final 3, 2, 1, and kiss, languid and lazy and soft before breaching. You clink your glasses together, cozy back up against one another on the couch, and return to your movie. Pressing your lips to her temple, you wish her a happy new year, and as Reagan returns the favor against your collarbone, she wishes you the same.

Andre Lee

"I've never had a New Year's like this before!" You exclaim over the music, moving along with him beside you and letting him twirl you around and bring you back only to crash into him, stabilizing and getting lost in the high of the moment, and other things, as you stare at him beneath bright, glowing lights than drench Andre in rainbow hues.

"Well here's your first of many!" he shoots back, grin infectious as he giggles and squeezes at your side, stepping to the side to bring you closer to the music and standing behind you so you get the better view and he can look over your shoulder and head. "Enjoying yourself?" he says over the EDM that's blasting on the giant speakers up front, nearly as large as bikes if not cars. You nod enthusiastically, bopping along to the beat.

You take Andre's hands in yours, beaded bracelets and kandi clattering on each other's arms and wrists as you move along to the beat and feel yourself warm up even in the cold of December-turning-January, the heat of bodies warming the air up just enough to be perfect for the moment.

"That's good! Need another hit?" you shake your head no, thanking him anyway and he taps at your waist, signaling that he's going to unzip the bag at your hip, pulling out his THC pen that you decorated the other day with paint and little sticker-diamonds, making it look like Lisa Frank threw up on it.

Andre takes a hit, offers it once more to be sure you don't want any, they zips it back into your side bag before pecking the corner of your mouth affectionately, blowing the smoke away from you after holding it in for a moment. "Told you the bag was a good idea, can never hold anything in these tiny pockets." you murmur against his mouth, tasting faint flavor from the vape alongside the unwavering smell of weed, giggling against his lips.

Before he can respond, the DJ queues the countdown, and Andre jumps up and down excitedly beside you, eyes bright and glossy. "Oh I never asked," and before you can question, he kneels before you on the floor, taking your hand, and you know he's joking around but the sight still sends your heart into a frenzy, "sugar, do me the honor of being my midnight kiss?"

You laugh, pointedly mentioning that the countdown is going on as you both speak and he shakes his head, refusing to get up until you give him a formal answer. "Yes, Andre, I'll be your midnight kiss. Always." With a happy shout, he hops up to his feet and falters a moment before cupping both sides of your face between his palms and kissing you with enthusiasm, tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue as confetti rains down and the music plays, starting your New Year off just right.

Glenn Dolphman

He usually would spend New Year's eve with his daughter but she's with her mother this year. You decide to cheer him up and spend the holiday with him, appearing on his doorstep thirty minutes after ending a phone call with him after getting his update, bringing groceries from your home to his to make him food and make some new traditions you hope to share with him beyond just this year.

Glenn keeps telling you that you don't have to go to all the trouble for just him, and you continue to shrug it off in efforts to cook and care for him, shutting him up with doting, affectionate kisses in the meantime. You eventually give up and have him just sit at the kitchen counter watching as you move about, letting him help occasionally and tie the bow on the end of the apron, ignoring the warmth in your cheeks as you flush at his comment of how you look so cute in it.

"Goddamnit, just," you sigh, palms braced on the counter before you look up from the granite to him as he grins, pleased with himself, "just sit back and stop being sweet, you're killing me here." Trying to turn around, you go back to a mixing bowl of cookies and aim to reach some measuring spoons for the baking powder before you get swept up and placed atop the counter and closed in, Glenn's blunt nose knocking against yours.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" you chide, a hand on your thigh laying stagnant while the other immediately reaches for him, sprawled across his broad, solid shoulder as you feel his arms cage you in, safe and warm and secure with him surrounding you. "Testing my luck in the hopes of practicing my kiss for midnight."

You hum, brow raised as you peer up at him, looking from beneath lashes that blink doe-like. "Oh? Just like that?" Glenn nods and your hand smooths back to the hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging teasingly and pushing your own luck in the same way he is, knowing that mixing bowl's gonna' be abandoned until way later in the day, if not until late this evening.

"Alright, sarge, go on ahead, make me feel real lucky," you murmur, cupping his jaw and snaking your fingers in his hair to tug him close just so he can pull you against him and kiss you breathless, nipping at your lip tenderly in the way you taught him as not to break it, letting your legs attempt to lock around his waist. They can't even touch let alone cross at the ankle. It's safe to say those cookies don't get made until way past the countdown, and Glenn's counting off times you gush around him rather than seconds until the New Year. He likes celebrating this way far better.

Myc Celium

he doesn’t really give a shit about the New Year, mainly uses it as an excuse to get fucked up and party, but lets you have your fun, staying around at home and allowing you to press kisses across his orb and under cap gills until he’s flushed and the hues start flickering as you make him forget about the New Year while getting fresh with you.

You dress up a little and manage to get a party hat onto Myc, not without some expletives thrown your way tethered together with demeaning pet names, flagella still around your waist as you lean up on tip-toes to secure it around his cap and make sure it's not tight. He helps you stand and lifts you in order to get you higher, all the while he's calling you and your entire bloodline waste of space bastards

The two of you go about the day pretty normally, cooped up at home since there's no work party this year nor any enticing ones thrown by friends or family. The two of you just lounge about or get small tasks done around the house, display parallel play, and just do other things apart from one another while being nearby. Conversations flow occasionally and other times you can hear him on call with Andre while playing a game as you reorganize something or finally settle down to stitch those patches onto your jacket.

By the time it nears eleven, the two of you settle down for a movie, curl up with one another, greasy takeout or fast food, and watch a movie, something kitschy but classic like When Harry Met Sally. Myc constantly chimes in about how the dynamic is pretty similar to you, but he thinks he's Harry with the charm and wit when he's high maintenance enough to be Sally. You humor him and litter sticky, glitter-gloss kisses to his orb or the underside of his cap across downy-soft gills.

You had set a reminder for when it would near five minutes away from midnight just so you could give Myc a classic new year's kiss with the countdown. Timing the movie out perfectly, in a scene of fated clandestine brilliance, the final scene comes on the moment you start counting down until midnight in your head, voicing along the lines that are too sweet to ignore from Billy Crystal.

"- when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

"Aren't you a sap?" Myc comments just as you grasp at the edge of his cap and cup the underside of his orb tenderly, leaning him down to meet you halfway as you countdown and finally reach one, murmuring happy new year against him as your lips brush his surface.

"Happy New Year, Myc." you breathe, leaning back flushed a minute later after he got handsy, feeling him nudge against you and crowd you against the corner of the couch cushions. "Happy New Year, sweets."

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averysmolbear · 1 year

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CW: This features a female or afab reader. There’s talk of their menstrual cycle and all that that includes (albeit not graphically or anything). There’s maybe a pet name or two in there. Reader and unspecified “boyfriend” are both adults in this scenario. It’s also an established relationship with the reader and their boyfriend living together.

A/N: I wrote this because I’m going through it right now and it’s cathartic. I won’t be offended if anyone passes on reading it because of the subject matter. I didn’t include any specific character as the “boyfriend” in this and any characters I tag for it aren't the only characters that you could replace “the boyfriend” with when you’re reading this. I just tagged some of my faves and a few others.

You really should have been prepared for this. You knew it was coming, even if you couldn’t always time your period down to the day. Usually you stocked up in the days before you assumed your period would start but this month you had been so stressed that you hadn’t been paying attention.

You didn’t notice all of the usual signs. Sure, you were maybe a bit more emotional than normal but with everything going on lately, it was easy to assume it was just the stress piling up on you. You dealt with bouts of insomnia regularly as well so that didn’t even register as a sign of what was to come.

Now here you were, laying in bed, curled up in the fetal position — or as close as you could get to it — as you felt the cramps kicking your ass. They weren’t always this bad but this month was clearly not going to be kind to you. You weren’t in tears but you certainly weren’t looking to move any time in the near future.

The problem was that you kind of needed to get out of bed. You moved slowly, uncurling yourself, as you moved to sit on the edge of your bed. You could hear the tv on in the living room but you missed the sound of your boyfriend’s footsteps as he made his way down the hall to pop his head into the bedroom.

“Hey, babe?”

You looked up and forced a smile. After all, you didn’t want to be a bother. You had dealt with this sort of thing for years now. You didn’t want to make him deal with it too.

Your skin, however, was paler than usual and there were dark circles under your eyes. Your boyfriend had noticed you tossing and turning last night which is why he let you sleep in this morning without trying to get you up when he got up. But it was getting later and he had only wanted to see if you were hungry. Now, however, he was worried.

“You feeling okay?” He walked over to sit down next to you on the bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders when you rested your head on his shoulder. “What can I do to help?”

You looked up and could tell he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. You shrugged and when he nudged you gently, you sighed, giving in.

“I just want to curl up on the couch,” you finally said. “Can you help me?”

His brow furrowed and without you asking, he scooped you up and carried you into the living. He carefully set you down on the couch before standing in front of you with his arms folded across his chest.

“What do you need?”

You started to shake your head but he frowned and you know that putting up a front wouldn’t work. “Can you grab me a glass of water while I run to the bathroom?”

He nodded, already piecing together what might be going on. He watched you until you disappeared down the hall and then he got the water for you as well as some of your favorite snacks, making sure there were more sweet than savory options for you.

When you got back to the living room, you had changed into a pair of his sweatpants, drowning in them but comfortable. He smiled softly and handed you the water and gestured to the table filled with snacks. You softly laughed before taking a couple of pills to help with the pain and swallowing it down with a couple of sips of water.

He pulled you close so you could rest against him while you stretched out a bit on the couch. He handed you his phone, already opened to a delivery app.

“It’s almost noon. Pick something for lunch,” he explained as you looked up at him. “Whatever sounds good to you. And if you need me to run to the store, I can. Whatever you need, okay?”

You nodded, your attention drifting to the phone as you felt your boyfriend press a soft kiss to the top of your head. After picking something to order, you handed the phone back and snuggled in as much as you could, the warmth of your boyfriend’s body helping to soothe some of the pain you felt.

He rested a large hand on your stomach, slipping it innocently under the bottom hem of your shirt. As you glanced up, you saw him looking down at you with a light blush on his cheeks. You happily sighed and scooted just a bit closer to your boyfriend.

You might not feel the best right now but at least you knew he didn’t see you as a bother today. And hopefully a lazy day at his side would help as well. You knew he was going to spend the rest of the day pampering you but today, of all days, you were going to let it happen because you knew you needed it today more than ever.

And sometimes it was nice to be reminded that you weren’t a bother and that your boyfriend would move heaven and earth to make sure you were taken care of.

#tessie writes #cw female or afab reader fic #comfort character x reader #f/o x reader #reiner braun x reader #levi ackerman x reader #eren jeager x reader #armin arlert x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #kunigami rensuke x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #keigo takami x reader

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glassesblorbospoll · 1 year

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✨ glasses-wearing blorbos tournament ✨

Hello and welcome to the glasses blorbos tournament poll!! Where we will find out which spectacled character reigns supreme over the rest (but not in a mean-spirited way, because we love peace and love) (the losers will all DIE, badly).

We will be determining how the bracket is seeded (randomized or not, etc.) from YOUR guys' opinions! we'll start asking once the submissions close.

Once the poll starts, we encourage asks, replies, tags, posts, etc. with propaganda for your faves!!

you can start submitting your glasses-wearing blorbos NOW here!: link to the google form. but please read the rules below first.

rules:

be nice to your fellow real, living, breathing people.

no terfs no bigots no bitches

submit only via the form linked above; submissions via ask will not be accepted. only use the asks for questions, propaganda, and to be super nice to us

there is no deadline for the submissions yet. we will see when we close them once we start to get submissions, so please submit!

don't submit the same character more than once, but do make several submissions for several different characters if you so wish. you know how it goes.

in principle, we will only be accepting submissions for characters who wear glasses, NOT contacts, for like at least about 50% of their screentime. but it doesn't mean nobody else will be accepted! characters who wear them very rarely, wear a monocle, or have some other weird thing going on that we can't even imagine right now will be reviewed on a case-by-case basis.

keep in mind we are two people who don't know every piece of media in the world, and we can't spend all of our time doing research!! for this reason, try to provide evidence if it needs to be provided!

the criteria for who the superior glasses-wearer is up to you: do they represent the SPIRIT of glasses-wearing better? are they more iconic for the fact of wearing glasses than the other one? do they wear their glasses BETTER? or are they just your FAVORITE out of the two?!?! doesn't matter. but we're thinking it's mostly about the latter.

There are some characters we will be including by default because at least One of us Likes them (Velma Scooby Doo, Alphys Undertale, Berdly Deltarune, Kim Kitsuragi from Disco Elysium, Teru Mikami from Death Note... maybe more...)

mods:

yo! i'm glitz, i'm also @thesoupisburning and i'm here because i wear glasses and think everyone should know ! i'll be doing most of the mathy stuff and also if you say anythin mean to us, you're saying something mean to rat and i WILL come for you. heart :} use any and all pronouns for me or check my carrd via my main. i am very friendly and love attention so please. please interact. also im opinionated and super sexy trust me bro <3

hi I'm @ratbefriender she/her you can call me Rat and it all started when I was approximately 7 years old and I wore glasses to school for the first time. when my classmates started asking me how many fingers they were holding up, I knew I had to fight the good fight for our brave spectacled blorbos, despite the word blorbos not existing yet. anyway: we're just having fun <3 be nice to us. peace and love.

inspired by: great poll tournaments such as @character-of-all-time @insanepoll @siblingshowdown @ultimatemessywomantournament @ultimate-rat-bracket @magnificent-mlm-matchup

gif below: random anime guy we dont know him sorry

#polls #poll tournament #tournament poll #tumblr tournament #tumblr poll #tumblr polls #blorbo tournament #glasses wearing blorbos tournament #glassesblorbospoll #glasses blorbos poll #if anyone doesn't want us tagging their account let us know

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angelltheninth · 8 months

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Dragon! Dan Heng got me drooling and growling like a damn mutt.

Could I request him getting in heat and having slow yet sensual sex with his virgin! girlfriend?

The heat thing is driving me crazy for real.

Pairing: Dan Heng x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, virginity loss, heat/rut, mating bites, creampie, knotting, breeding kink, mating press, growling

Word count: 1k

A/N: Why do all of my favorites end up being dragons? I pick them out as my faves and then suddenly they're dragons!

"You can still back out you know. I'm not that far gone yet." By the looks of him he was close to that point. Dan Heng, the normally calm and composed archivist of Astral Express was now a panting, growling mess on top of you. His rut had been getting to him for the past few days, he'd been more snappy, more aggressive, more lustful in his touches. Still he offered you an out, rather opting to spend his rut by himself then hurt you.

This wasn't his first rut, far from it, but it had been such a long time since he spent if with someone else. He had resigned himself to a life of loneliness, accepted it and all the challenges that came with it. And then you happened to shatter all those lonely days for him. You wanted him, the real him, and everything that it meant.

You pulled your legs up to your chest and spread yourself open for him. His mouth drooled at the sight of you in such a submissive position, "I told you before, I can handle you Dan Heng. I love you, so please don't worry about it."

"B-But..." He raised himself up on his knees and rubbed his hard cock over your pussy, all but losing his mind, "You're a virgin, what if I'm too much for you?" This wasn't so much in terms of size but he knew how intense he could get in his ruts. "If I were to harm you in any way I..."

"Dan Heng, do you love me?"

"What?" His eyes snapped open and he cupped your cheeks, "Of course I do!"

"Then I trust you not to hurt me." You could see how his tail moved from side to side at your statement, even his horns emanated a tiny bit of a blue glow.

He almost looked more nervous then you were. He'd always said he wanted you to feel good, now was the ultimate test of that. As much as he wanted to come he was determined to get you there first. This would be a test of his own endurance. With his hands he cupped your ass and pushed it a lit into the air. He positioned himself so that he was almost in a crouching position on top of you, with your legs pressing against your shoulders. "It will hurt less like this. Also allow me to go in deeper. Do you want to feel all of me?"

As soo as he saw the smile on your face he knew he could start to push in. Just a little bit at first, which allowed you to get used to the stretch his cock gave you. You took a deep breath, your heart hammered inside your chest, calmed only by the soft, gentle way Dan Heng gazed upon you. "A little more."

And a little more he gave you, slowly working the rest of his length inside you. There was a tiny bit of resistance now, your pussy clenching around him, "Sorry. It's been a long time for me." You felt part of his cock swell up, as he moved in and out, growing more frustrated that he couldn't fit it in. "My instincts tell me to knot you."

You chuckled, "And that means...?" You had an educated guess, but you wanted him to say it.

Dan Heng grew all the more flustered, "It would keep my seed inside you. But I also wouldn't be able to move as much for a period of time, and it might be a little painful for you. Humans don't have anatomy like my kind so if you're not comfortable with-"

"Knot me." There was such determination in your voice but your pussy seemed to protest at his cock trying to push in deeper, "Fuck, so big... if you push that in... but I want to feel it. I want all of you, please Dan Heng."

"Alright. Alright, but first..." He started thrusting faster, the curve of his cock scraping against your inner walls, making your toes curl and your breath hitch, "I should make you come. The wetness will help." You didn't know if that was true or if he wanted to show off by lasting longer then you even in his state but you weren't gonna question something that felt so damn good. "I'm sorry if I seem out of sorts. It feels so good to have you tighten around me like this. I hope to feel this every time I got into a rut."

"Why just when you're in a rut? I would be happy to have your cock in me whenever you want." Dan Heng growled at your proposal, his hips and yours making smacking noises so loud and frequent you could hardly focus on anything else. You began to feel the heat traveling down your spine, gathering between your legs, your almost painful release making your legs clench around his hips, "Keep it up, please don't stop yet."

Stopping was the last thing he was about to do now, "So beautiful when you come. Where have you been all my life?" There was both sadness and joy in that question, "I don't want to know a life without you any more. Let me make you mine soon." You could see how his jaw ached from him clenching his teeth. "If only I could make you pregnant, give you the family you deserve, a child or two."

"Yes, yes, please." It didn't matter if he could or not, you wanted it right now. You mind started to wonder to the future you could have together.

"Knotting. Hold still for me." You felt his cock pulsing, not just his cock but his knot, as it popped inside of you, locking the warm torrent of his seed in your womb. "Yes, take it all, all of me, be my good little mate."

"Your mate." You repeated, your legs finally relaxing from his hips, "Dan..." Hardly able to form words you fisted your hands into his long hair and drew him closer for a kiss. A little awkward with you being practically folded in half by him but since neither of you were going anywhere for at least an hour you'd take what you can get.

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