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amourcheol · 11 months

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the great war | (teaser)

❝Because the greatest war Seungcheol had ever waged was against your heart.❞

historical! au | enemies to lovers! au | smut, fluff | approx. 30k words

s u m m a r y : there was only one thing you hated more than your restricted life, and that was choi seungcheol—the greatest venetian general who has ever lived. when a marriage is arranged between the two of you, you were sure it would end in bloodshed. however, as you and seungcheol are forced to attend balls and share a few hard truths, you realise you have more in common with the mysterious general than you thought.

c o n t e n t : military commander! seungcheol, noblewoman! artist! mc, artist! minghao, artist! soonyoung who are both annoying (affectionate), cheol and mc absolutely hate each other because i need to see proper e2l, cheol is the hottest man who ever lived, he also has a scar on his lip (yes this needs a separate warning), this is set in renaissance venice so there will be artist references, the doge = basically ruler of venice, themes of sexism, constant arguing between mc and cheol, there is fluff, also angst ofc mature warnings -> tons of sexual tension, making out fuelled by hatred, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex (only because medieval contraception is vile), cheol says some very vile things during the deed, very slight corruption kink

p l a y l i s t : dangerous woman by ariana grande || war of the hearts by sade || love is stronger than pride by sade || i don’t understand but i luv u by seventeen

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @just-hear-to-read-01 @cherrycheolcoups @jeonwonwooscutie @i-dont-give-a-fok @mystikha @xcynthiaaa @ckline35 @enthralled-bandit @urfavtallgirl222 @swimmingkpopblog @areumyang @geniejunn @itsveronicaxxx @yoongischeeksluv @sojohns @capsiclesworld @hanniehoneyy @belladaises @listxn @cheolsbitch @atinycarat26 @moniece @foxdaisy @seventeensfave @yoozuku @hanicore @ishireads @kkooongie @huiiline @coralderae @deekayownsme @louvyves @writingsbybirdie @myjaeyunn @twogyuu @goldenhoney-cas @jonginstance @lurniere @vanishingboots @jub-jub @jjjzzzz @bee-beyond @ikeostormy @rubywonu @ncteez-replies @appt2235 @claireleem @ningwebs @gyuturn @sikebishes @antiv3nus @tyongff-ff @lxgus @forcoups @woozarts @smoooore @iwuzhere @asteriaskingdom @p-dwiddle @youre-on-your-ownkid @fragmentof-indifference @lilsafsafbooyah @9songbird19 @hibernatinghamster @norassimpingzone @parkchaeyoungsbish @foxinnie8 @idubutily @imatfrontrow @ellr07 @havetaeminforbreakfast @tacolombe @nomnom2001 @highkey-fangirling @nap-of-a-starr @pineartease @hwashiningstar @hybeboy @haoraecane @yestenano

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a u t h o r ’ s n o t e : hello everyone i died on this account but i am back and better than ever especially since cheol has the nerve to be the finest man alive. just a warning, this fic is going to be so horrendously self-indulgent </3

SEUNGCHEOL ENTERED THE ROOM, AND YOU STILLED.

He was also wearing his wedding attire, but his cravat had been loosened, revealing a sliver of his neck. His curls were wild, as if he had been raking his hands through them. Even as a groom his sword was strapped at his side, the weapon absent at the actual ritual. You could have laughed at him if you were not so nervous—even on an apparent intimate night, he had only thoughts of murdering you.

His expression, on the other hand, revealed no humour.

You heard him sigh sharply, locking the door. That instantly had your nerves heightening. “Unlock the door,” you commanded, getting up from the bed. “I need to run away if you try to do something.”

“I shall have no drunk cousin or lecherous relative spying on us,” he refuted, stepping closer into the room.

“Spying?” your senses perked up. “Seungcheol, we are not doing anything worth spying on, do you understand?”

“What the hell do you mean?” he demanded, propping his gloved hands on his hips. He made to step closer to you but you raised your hand to stop him.

“I know a man has expectations,” you started, backing away from him, “Everyone expects us to seal the marriage, and I know that is the tradition, but I do not care…” you paused, and even the thought of such an action frightened you.

“If you try to touch me, Seungcheol, I will not hesitate to take your sword and stab myself with it.”

He parted his mouth to sneer, but he caught the look in your gaze. He had never seen such a promise ready to be fulfilled should your worst fears occur.

The man could not help but step back.

“Did you really think I would do that, _____?”

You smiled, albeit without any humour. “Well, first you declare that you would rather die by the hands of a Turk before marrying me, and here you stand as my husband.” You shook your head. “I cannot trust you.”

The accusation on his honour stung. “I stand by what I said. I did not want—do not want to marry you.”

“Then why did you say yes?!” you screamed.

He stood silent for a time, gritting his teeth.

It was the truth. Choi Seungcheol was the last man on earth who wished for your hand.

He, too, wanted to escape as the ceremony progressed. Even as you came into the church, dolled up in the height of fashion, he wished nothing more than to run out of God’s holy building, jump upon a gondola and row away from the city.

Despite his prowess, his popularity, his apparent undeniable power, he was unable to escape this marriage. There were exterior forces, beyond his control.

He said it to you truthfully.

“I was given no choice. I had to say yes.”

You did not believe him. “King of the Venetian military, the Republic’s favourite man and you could not control your choice of wife?” You almost wanted to laugh at him.

He could tell. “You would not understand,” he muttered, turning away from you. “All you have ever done is be a spoiled Doge’s daughter.”

That really ticked you off. “You have no idea what I have done for myself. You will never know of the burdens I carry for being a woman alone.” You crossed your arms, daring him to face you like a man. “All you have done is go to some foreign land and kill a few poor souls.”

Now that really ticked him off. “You speak of burdens as if I have none.” His voice dropping an octave had you blinking back. “You are not the only person who has struggled.”

You watched him as he finally deigned you a glance. There was something incredibly bleak in his usual stormy eyes. Not that you had never not seen him in a sour countenance, but this was possibly the first time you had seen him so hopeless.

“You are not the only person who has felt alone.”

A great part inside of you wished to cackle the ceiling down.

He should feel alone! You raged inside your mind, looking down at the ends of your wedding gown. He should feel something akin to loneliness so he could understand a fraction of your despair. The man was constantly surrounded by his men, his followers, hundreds of thousands of admirers from all over Europe.

You, on the other hand, had only yourself and your paint.

Even with that bitterness, no laughter spluttered from your lips.

You could only match his cruel stare, and hope he took you seriously.

A few more minutes passed before he sighed, taking off his loosened cravat from his neck, putting his sheathed sword on the set of drawers behind him. “We should sleep,” he said, stepping before the opposite side of the bed.

Watching his every move, you then shifted your gaze to the bed. “Yes…we should…”

His famous brow quirked inquisitively. “What are you thinking now?” he asked, clearly exasperated. He then continued dryly, “If you are still hesitant about the whole consummation, then I can assure you that I, too, would slice my head off if you suggested it.”

“Well, I am not suggesting it,” you muttered. “I am more puzzled about why you are getting into bed.”

His tiredness did not stop his stare turning sharp with sarcasm. “Because that is what a person does if they wish to sleep.”

“I am aware of that, thank you.” You put a hand to your chest. “But I wish to sleep as well, and I will be damned before I let you sleep in the same bed as me.”

Now his gaze turned mocking. “My God, you have some nerve saying such a thing.” He set the cravat down on the bedside table. “If you have a problem with me sleeping here, you can sleep somewhere else.”

“Excuse me!” you exclaimed, reaching out to clutch the bedsheets. “This is my bedroom. I have slept here my entire life!” You huffed, sitting on the plush mattress. “Besides, are you soldiers not accustomed to sleeping anywhere? I am sure my bedroom floor is a lavish upgrade from whatever hellsite you rested abroad.”

“Oh, you—” he brought his knee upon the bed, hands further placed as he leaned closer to you. “I care very little whether you have been sleeping here all your life. Your father brought me here, so I have a right to this space.”

You matched his vigour instantly, leaning just as close, sparking a fire in your expression. “And I care none if Papa brought you here—hell, if the Pope carried you to this very room.” His growing rage had no effect on your own. “Sleep. On. The. Floor.”

Mere inches away from each other, the general stared you down. Had the receiver of such a cruel eye been his soldiers, they would have run for the lakes, abandoned the army altogether. Seungcheol’s cold, calculating glares have had enemies shiver in their masses.

It irked him so ardently that his infamous tactics ceased to work on you.

He looked over your features: the manic, determined glint in your pupils, the flared nose, the pursed lips. No one, a woman, no less, had stood up to him like this.

Of course, he should not have been surprised. You had always been a sharp pain in his backside.

God, I cannot let her win, his voice rang, over and over in his head. She cannot have this over me.

But then he saw a glint in your usual mischievous gaze, and he knew you were about to commit a crime.

He was not wrong.

Because you did have an idea, and you smirked, fingers rising to the thin bow on the top of your dress.

Slowly, you began to untie the lace.

Seungcheol watched with no small amount of horror as your rigid wedding gown began to loosen at the top, its flared arms drooping around your shoulders.

You made to untie the second lace when he raised his hands, twisting his lips into a scowl. “What the hell are you doing?!” he demanded, getting off the bed.

“What does it look like?” You untied the string, dress falling further down till you needed your hands to hold it steady.

A single drop, and everything would be revealed.

The greatest general in the peninsula nearly squirmed at the thought.

Your fingers toyed with the last lace.

His eyes darted to your movements. Then, to your face, and you noticed the change of expression—it was as if he was thinking of a military strategy, a last-minute decision on the battlefield.

Once again, you pulled at the string.

But before the knot was fully untied you heard a savage growl escape his mouth.

“Oh, for God’s sake!”

Before you even let the dress fall, he swerved around, grabbing hold of his sword from the drawers. “Fine! Have your room!” The muscles on his back flexed as he raked a hand in his hair. “You are truly ridiculous!”

You could only laugh at the scene of him thundering to the door, vigorously unlocking it and storming out.

The laughter did not stop as you changed into your nightgown, shaking your head.

You did not care if Choi Seungcheol had become your husband.

You were not going to let anything of your life change.

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abiiors · 3 months

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cherry // ross macdonald x reader

valentine's week - day 1: secret admirer

a/n: before you say anything, yes there will be a part 2 that's literally just a nasty fuck fest. i just wanted to get the plot bits out of the way and it got way too long as you can see. cw: age gap (10-12 years), highkey ooc, incredibly self-indulgent btw, ummm kinda dom/sub? hand kink, kinda corruption kink also wc: 7.8k

it’s been twenty minutes that they’re all sat in this room—concrete walls, a little like matty’s house honestly, simple furniture and minimalist decor. it feels anything but sparse though—there’s the mic guy and the cameraman and a few assistants. there’s the host, a cheery, fresh faced woman dressed to the nines. but ross can’t stop staring. which is a problem because he really should stop staring and focus on his actual job. except the girl in front of him is distraction personified.

next to him matty babbles on about the cultural and political significance of their latest album—all interesting, thoughtful stuff. ross, however, stares at the girl transcribing it all. and that’s what she is really, a girl. all softness and innocence, gently rolling the end of a pencil between her perfectly pink lips in a room full of lecherous men. unaware. aloof. or maybe he’s projecting. maybe he’s the lecherous one for staring at a girl who’s most definitely in her early twenties; at the pencil between her lips, at her cherry red dress.

every now and then she pulls the pencil away from her mouth and scribbles a few notes—something in neat, curving handwriting that is a little too far for him to read properly. every once in a while she also types something on her laptop, long, painted nails clacking so softly on the keyboard that the mic probably won’t pick up any of the sounds.

on her notepad, ross can see little doodled flowers—a bit janky and uneven petals, underneath it she’s doodled a box. thin, pencil lines tracing the same shape over and over again until the paper almost rips.

he tries not to be so obvious—tries not to stare at her face so much, at the curve of her cheek and the long lashes almost touching it, at the sharp line of her jaw, and the claw clip holding her hair up and out of her face. a few strands escape though, blowing gently against the air blasting from the aircon.

he tries to keep his attention back on the interview. and he tries to give himself little goals—he can only look at her if matty says a certain word. he can only look at her every time the host laughs—all trivial stuff that goes out the window every time she shifts in her seat and he catches the movement from the corner of his eye.

more than a few times, he catches her staring back—big eyes lingering right on his face with a distinctly interested expression. every time it happenes, he straightens a bit more and runs his hands through his neatly trimmed beard.

the girl follows the movement with her eyes and ross wonders what she makes of him.

“ross?” someone calls out for him. the host stares, expectant, and he stifles the urge to curse. searching his memory for the question that was just asked is useless; it’s not like he was listening to a word that was said in the last two minutes. but now everyone’s eyes are on him and the collar of his shirt feels tighter than it is. his cheeks grow warmer but ross laughs it off.

“yeah, agree with what matty said,” he replies quickly and clears his throat. he has no idea what matty said last but the host seems satisfied and moves on to the next question. the girl looks up at him again and quickly presses her lips together. still, he sees the slight quirk of them, almost like she’s trying to stifle a smile or a laugh.

this time he stares back just a bit longer, meets her eyes with intention and raises an eyebrow almost in challenge; just to see if she’d keep staring so blatantly. her eyes widen a fraction and the pencil stills on her lips. her teeth graze its end and almost dent her soft lip.

ross sees the movement of her iris, unsure where to look. she fidgets in her seat, shifting again and crossing her legs. then she averts her eyes entirely and goes back to scribbling on her notepad.

“your head’s in the fucking clouds,” george deadpans the moment they step outside on the balcony. there’s already a cigarette dangling between his fingers and smoke curls around his head.

ross groans. “haven’t slept properly.”

it’s not exactly a lie. he was up pretty late last night but ross lights a cigarette of his own if only to avoid looking at george. they stand there in comfortable silence for a bit, letting the smoke settle into their lungs and blowing it out. matty’s boisterous laugh floats outside and ross thinks back to the shitshow of an interview.

there’s a reason he hates doing these, there’s a reason matty always speaks on all of their behalf. but ross knows big publications want all four of them and it’s good to create hype and get the fans excited. and he knows it’s just necessary—

the balcony door open with a creek.

at first, ross doesn’t turn. it’s probably adam who’s bored of the conversation or matty who’s managed to escape it but out of the corner of his eye, he sees george turn around and straighten imperceptibly.

and so he follows suit.

the girl clears her throat. “uh… sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you.” there’s a slight tremor in her voice and she looks up quickly from george to ross. she’s shorter than he’d realised before, only coming up to the base of his throat, fucking tiny compared to him and george and he pointedly ignores what it does to his brain to see her staring up at him, craning her neck just to meet his eyes.

“ross…mr macdonald. sir.” she comes to a stop in front of him, all wide-eyed and flustered and calling him sir for fucks sake. he can almost feel the laugh george is trying to hold in. this isn’t the first time a nervous fan’s approached them and he’s had far weirder interaction. still he plans to smack george later for making him lose his composure

“just ross,” he corrects on autopilot then gestures for her to continue. he expects the usual—a selfie or autograph on a vinyl. to his surprise she holds up a phone in front of him and ross almost gapes before reigning it in.

“your phone,” she says. “you left it on the set.”

quickly, he taps his back pocket and feels nothing.

up close, he can see the tiny smudge of mascara under her eyelashes and the precise shade of red on her lips. up close he can smell her perfume too—sweet and warm, something that definitely suits her.

the girls stares up at him expectantly, still holding out his phone.

“thanks,” he mumbles, voice almost gruff and takes his phone back. his hand brushes her for just a moment—the pad of his finger against the back of her hand. but ross swears he feels a little jolt. quickly, she drops her hand and looks at his chest.

“you’re welcome,” she says and this time her voice is a bit steadier than before. he’s about to ask her more. anything to make her talk more when george steps forward.

“thank you, darling,” he says and gives her a winning smile, “he would have made us all search for it later.”

the girl blushes furiously under all the attention, trying to maintain her bravado from before. ross stifles the urge to roll his eyes but takes the time to quickly look at her again. her hair’s down now, falling over her shoulders and hiding half her neck that was exposed to him before. he has the sudden and visceral urge to touch it, to run his fingers through it and tug on the strands until her chin tilts up to him. until she’s looking right at him.

what the actual fuck is wrong with him!

he steps back and takes a deep drag of his cigarette untilt he smoke burns, until his eyes water. the girl nods and stammers a goodbye. then she quickly scurries back inside.

george snorts and ross shoots him a death glare.

“head in the fucking clouds,” george singsongs under his breath and puts out the rest of his cigarette. then before ross has the chance to respond, he opens the balcony door and disappears inside.

ross stays back on the balcony and groans in his hands. then he lights another cigarette.

there’s a rot in his brain, gnawing at his neurons and eating through the organ until everything is replaced by a single image of her sucking on the end of her pencil absentmindedly. ross has been through this scenario a dozen times now. it was fine when he was busy, staving the thought away by replacing it with work related things.

a million things he’s got on his schedule…

but in the comfort of his home, his bedroom, he can’t stop picturing the hollow of her throat—delicate and unmarred skin in direct contrast to her dress, her voice calling him sir. god, she’d even looked at him like a fucking fawn—all wide-eyed and unsure. he would have fucking loved to trace his finger over her bottom lip right then, if only to steal a sweet sound of surprise right out of her.

he’s going straight to hell for this, straight to the fiery pits for doing what he’s about to do.

ross props himself up on the pillows, delaying the inevitable, or trying to at least. but the ache in him won’t subside, the throbbing between his legs, the dizziness as all his blood rushes south. the tent in his joggers taunting him as if he were a teenager in heat. he groans. the sound echoes around the room.

shame courses through him, already overshadowed by the heat that flows through his veins at the speed of lightning.

he needs to stop thinking about her, this girl who he has barely said two words to. maybe this is how he gets her out of his system. instinctively, his hand creeps towards his thighs.

he wastes no time dipping a hand in his pants, the other arm supports his head; nothing he hasn’t done a million times since he hit puberty. somehow this feels more electric than ever before.

ross palms himself, eyes fluttering close and muscles pulled taut. he’s aware of everything—from the stretch of his soft cotton t-shirt against his skin, to his head touching the bedframe. he needs to keep what little sanity he has left, trying to sort through all the depraved and deviant thoughts racing through his mind. what would she have done if she could read his thoughts, if she could see him like this—a mess at the mere thought of her? would she kneel down and crawl towards him, hunger clearly written all over her face, her big eyes hooded with lust.

ross groans loudly, letting out a string of curses, imagining that it’s her hand wrapped around him—small and inexperienced. stroking him up and down with unsurely; long, tentative, languid strokes making his head swim with deluded thoughts.

his cock is painfully hard. ross knows for a fact that he’s never wanted to fuck someone with this intensity before, never before has his brain reverted to its most basic instinct like this.

thoughts of taking her all over his house makes him fuck his fist faster and faster. gone are the gentle, sensual strokes from before, now his hips buck as he thrusts into his hand. his mind plays a slideshow of made up images—her bent over on his kitchen island, the marble biting into her hips as he pounds into her. he would speak the dirtiest and filthiest words to her as he watches her squirming with want; her pussy swollen and wet. his brain conjoures up the phantom feel of her silky tresses between his fingers, gripped tightly in his hands.

ross chokes out a gasp that turns into a broken moan.

this is wrong, this is so wrong and sinful and every other synonym there is for it yet his mind refuses to move on from her. rather, it conjures up more images—her jaw slack with pleasure, eyes rolled back in her head as she rides him at her own pace, figuring it out along the way. he would flip her at the last second, of course, looming over her like a dominating presence, wrenching another orgasm from her after she’s already cum on his tounge, his hand, his stomach. but she would let go for him again. she would do anything to be his good girl.

his pumps grow rougher and more erratic, gasps leaving his mouth, echoing around the room.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

ross wonders if she’s doing the exact same thing he is, hand buried between her thighs, his name spilling out from her perfect lips. he wonders if that would absolve him of his guilt, his shameless act. it’s the thought of her soft sounds that tips him over the edge until he cums so hard, his vision goes black.

his strokes slow down, back to slow and sensual as he watches his cum flow out of him; milky white ropes splashed on his stomach, on his thigh. his hand is a mess, the tissues he had tried to grab at the last second are nowhere near enough to contain all of it.

with her, ross wouldn’t need any of that. he would fill her up with his cum, fucking it into her, watching it drip out of her mixed with her own release, making a mess of her thighs that he could clean with his tongue.

fuck it. he was damned already. he might as well enjoy the ride.

somewhere in this city, she has no clue about all the dark and wretched things ross wants to do to her. and maybe he could get her out of his mind now, have her out of his system.

he could just as easily fuck someone tomorrow. and someone else the day after.

yes. yes, that’s what he should do. he should forget about the girl he’s known for less than twenty-four hours. that’s what he should do.

he settles on it too, making a mental note to text one of his old flings who might still be in the city. he feels very strongly about his resolve too. the interview is done, he’s likely never seeing her again.

until she shows up at the studio the morning after.

the day starts like any other. he drives up to the studio, one of the assistants tells him that the band will be shadowed for a magazine profile—some prolific publication that’s going to document their entire process ahead of the release. he doesn’t worry about it too much, talking is matty’s job. sometimes george chimes in. ross and adam speak only as a last resort.

besides he has his to-do list cut out for him.

last night—the entire day really—was a momentary distraction. now he’s back on track and focused. the track playing on his headphones is all he is thinking about. all he should be thinking about. until jordan taps him on the shoulder.

“need you for a few photos, mate. and the magazine people are here,” he turns around to leave, almost walks up to the door too then turns back to ross to mouth something. someone new! followed by a waggle of his eyebrows.

ross shakes his head, sets his things aside and walks out with jordan.

everyone’s out in the lobby, and ross hears matty laugh before he sees him. then he hears another familiar laugh and turns the corner to a familiar face. he knows tobias, who shakes his hand and gives him a friendly pat on the back. he’s met tobias before—the man is soft spoken and has a keen ear for good music, a quality ross admires and the thought of him documenting their recording process makes him happy.

tobias goes around making the rounds, hugging george and joking with the sound engineers. then he stops and turns to look at them.

“oh i almost forgot!” he claps his hands together, “need to introduce to a fresh face.”

behind tobias, ross catches a movement. and it’s then that everything around him fades away instantly.

there is no mistaking it. it’s her. it’s the girl, stepping out a bit unsurely from behind her boss and smiling tentatively at the room. he observes how she doesn’t look at him—no, rather she doesn’t look at anyone, cleverly staring at a spot just near them. but never direct eye contact and never more than a few seconds.

unlike yesterday, she’s in a simple jeans and a t-shirt—grey with a faded queen logo on it—but it fits her like a glove regardless. and when she introduces herself in a lilting voice, ross feels his thoughts from yesterday threaten to make a comeback.

this cannot be happening… behaving like a horny teenager once was enough. he doesn’t need her working here and being close to him constantly, doesn’t need her to constantly be a presence in his thoughts. thoughts that are already way too focussed on the way her eyes light up after seeing him. it’s a trick of the light and nothing else. he’s sure of it.

she introduces herself—her name, the fact that she’s here to transcribe and take notes and assist tobias. she tells them she really liked their last album and that it was her introduction to them. matty teases her about not being a fan and she blushes deeply, barely making eye contact with him.

ross, in a world of his own, burns with irrational jealousy. of course, it would be matty who makes her blush and gets her to open up. matty’s a flirt—charming and confident and knows how to get people to come out their shells, even the shy ones it seems. in contrast ross feels about as subtle as a boulder.

but she seems slightly relaxed after that conversation, even throwing him a look once (and only once) when he plucks on his bass string a bit too loud. ross doesn’t look at her for the rest of the day though, not a single time. no matter how tempting it is. even when she’s buried deep in her transcripts, murmuring to herself and listening to a recording of something adam said over and over again.

even when she crosses and uncrosses her legs, sucks on the end of her pencil again—clearly a habit, he’s come to realise. not when she stretches and the hem of her t-shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of smooth skin and the hints of cherry coloured lace. not even when she asks him where the espresso machine is.

the rest of the day ross spends hunched over his bass, glowering at the floor. and he doesn’t manage to focus even once.

day two he’s in the studio bright and early, gasping for some very strong coffee after tossing and turning the whole night (quite honestly, he’s gasping for something stronger but it’s 8 am and becoming an alcoholic now is not an option)

every time he closed his eyes, his brain would haunt him with images of soft skin and lips caught between teeth and sucking on the end of a pencil. every time his brain sent his body’s supply of blood to one organ and one organ alone and ross has had enough of it.

starting today he’s focused. he’s serious!

that is until he walks into the tiny kitchen and sees her on her toes, stretching and struggling to get a coffee mug down. a red one. the same one she’d used yesterday. with some amusement, he also notices that there are at least two mugs near the coffee machine—one plain black and one with a swirly pattern. but she hasn’t cast either of them a single glance.

she’s stubborn, someone who knows what she wants.

shamelessly, he staggers to a stop at the threshold, watching her lean against the counter and wiggle her fingertips in the air as if that would magically summon the mug. her calf muscles are pulled taut and visible in the dress she’s wearing. each time she stretches, he sees a flash of her thighs.

his fingers twitch by his sides, desperate to what what it would feel like to drag his knuckles against the inside of her thigh, trailing them up and up and up until he reaches her hip. how she would react if he pinched the skin between his fingers, if he marked it with his teeth.

“need some help?” in the early morning stillness of the kitchen, his voice comes out a bit too loud and a moment later she startles, whipping her head to look at him and hand coming up to her thudding chest.

“christ!” she gasps loudly, closing her eyes and opening them again to look at him properly. “ross–shit! sorry, you scared me a bit is all.”

he can’t help the way his eyes linger on her face—big, wide eyes and scarlet mouth parted open as she blows out a breath. when he starts walking towards her, she stays in her spot, practically transfixed on him as he comes closer. ross stops right in front of her, their bodies so close that another inch and he would be pressing into her, or rather pushing her body back against the kitchen counter. with some satisfaction, he also realises how he towers over her—almost a head taller and practically twice her size.

her breath catches in her throat when he reaches for the mug, pulling it out and setting it next to her. but he makes no move to step back, not until she finally looks up at him instead of just staring at his chest.

her throat moves, her pupils dilate. almost as if she’s doing it involuntarily, she quickly looks at his lips and back into his eyes.

for perhaps the hundredth time, he’s blown away by how beautiful she is, how fucking perfect. and everything he’s thought about her comes rushing back to him, all the times he’s pictured her mouth and her hand, her soft sounds and the feel of her hair between his fingers. his train of thought runs him over so thoroughly that ross actually staggers back a bit, averting his gaze and pointing at the mug.

he has to wait a beat and clear his throat before he can speak.

“there.”

“thank you…” she trails off unsurely, voice barely above a whisper. “did you want some too? i was just about to brew some fresh coffee.”

all he can do is nod. and when she moves around the room, getting other things out and making coffee, all he can do is watch.

by day ten, they talk a few more times, each time being interrupted by someone or the other—first it’s tobias, assigning her frankly trivial tasks (in ross’ opinion anyway) that she agrees to happily. then it’s matty coming over to shamelessly flirt with her which honestly makes ross want to deck him with his bass even though he knows it’s harmless.

but at least with matty she opens up slightly—telling him she’s been working for tobias for almost two years now and that it’s her first adult job. ross finds out that she’s not from london, instead she shares a flat with a friend.

day ten is also when she stays at the studio much later than anyone else, even when the skies outside darken and turn grey and flashes of lighting burst through every few minute. ross watches her anxiously stare out the window once it starts drizzling a little before she buries herself into work again, sorting through the video and audio footage of that day and making her notes that tobias seems to praise so much.

and so ross does the same, putting on his headphones and focusing of the actual music instead of the tip of her nails digging into her jaw, creating slight crescent moons. this time, he even manages to stay focused for ten whole minutes until he hears unsure footsteps walking towards him.

ross looks up at her, nervously playing with the ring on her index finger and takes off his headphones.

“you need anything?”

she shrugs, looking at him and then around him briefly. “yeah i just needed a little break from work and, uh… barely anyone else seems to be here?”

barely anyone. he’d rather there was no one here at all. and even then, the urge to seduce her into the little soundproof recording booth weighs strongly on him. it would be just him and her and the tiny cramped space and all her sounds would belong to him and only him—

“ross?” he jerks back to her looking expectantly at him before her eyes widen. “uness you’re busy, i don’t want to be a bother. sorry.”

he quickly dismisses her apology, motioning for the chair opposite him before ross smirks at her. “so you’d like to sit there and stare at me huh?”

he feels a little evil for enjoying the way she sputters, trying to come up with a retort or just plain denial or whatever else but he gets a little distracted by the faint red tinge to her face…

what else would make her blush like that? he can think of a few thing for sure.

“what? no! no, i just…” she scrunches her eyes shut, trying to gather her bearings. “i like watching you work.”

oh that’s certainly interesting.

“just me? not the others?”

“uh, well.” she leans back in her chair slightly, getting a bit more comfortable than before and catching her bottom lip betweem her teeth for a second. just long enough for ross to go entirely rigid.

“you’re really still when you work,” she continues, “it’s quite calming.”

oh he’s still alright. if only so he won’t give into the urge of constantly looking at her and following her every move with his eyes like some creep. he has to stay still if he needs to stop himself from going to up to her to try and flirt and like matty does, when he will inevitably end up making a fool out of himself.

but she’s entirely unaware of his inner conundrum. she’s all too absorbed in her analysis of the band.

“matty bounces and paces around and it makes me slightly nervous. i like watching george when he’s on the drums or the piano but lately he’s been doing more production work so he’s always on his laptop and well, that’s slightly… boring”

“boring?!” he laughs sharply. “i should tell george that.”

and then he finds it even more amusing when her eyes widen and she scrambles to backpeddle. there’s nothing to salvage it though. so she just sighs in defeat.

“you wouldn’t! would you?” she looks at him with those big, round eyes and juts out her bottom lip and fuck! she could ask him to sign over half his possessions right now and he would say yes.

“no,” ross laughs again, softer this time. “your secret’s safe with me.”

this time he sets the bass aside, all pretenses of work gone as he leans back on the sofa, one arm behind his head. “what about adam? why not him”

she contemplates her answer for a bit before speaking. “i don’t think he likes other people watching him, he looks a bit uncomfortable.”

“love, half our job hinges on other people watching us…”

“no, not like that!” she straightens, gesticulating wildly, “not when you’re playing songs you’ve already played hundreds of times. i’m talking about when he’s experimenting and writing new stuff. i don’t think he likes to be watched then.”

and once again ross is impressed by her astute observation skills. he knows how young she is—younger than him by a decade, yet here she is, reading his best friend of twenty years perfectly in just ten days.

so he leans forward, properly interested now and scans her face for a bit, trying to get a proper read of her, of what she might say next. “and is that what you like to do? watch people?”

“sometimes,” she shrugs, “when i find them really interesting.”

“so you find me really interesting.”

he expects her to blush and stutter again. it is a bold statement after all and yet again she surprises him. “yeah… yes, i do.”

this time she’s the one with her eyes roaming over his face, maybe a bit over his arms too (something he observes with an immense level of satisfaction) and the way they strain against his t-shirt.

“good,” he smiles. “now i know i’m not the only one dying to know more about you…”

he tries not to flirt with her too directly but they talk. he tries not to ask anything and everything all at once and freak her out before she’s entirely comfortable with him but with every question she relaxes even more, leans forward and places her chin in the palm of her hand while he’s explaining something inconsequential about his bass.

it’s only the muscle memory that keeps him going when the strap of her top slides away and a sliver of lace peaks out.

his fingers still on the strings and she frowns. “no, play! i like the way your fingers move.”

the words slip out before she even realises it. in fact, it doesn’t dawn on her until he freezes completely and she goes bright red!

“i– no, that’s– i didn’t–”

but ross laughs it away, if only so he won’t fucking dwell on it until his head feels like it’s going to explode.

“let’s go outside for a bit,” he offers and she accepts gratefully.

the air on the balcony is cool—the sort of breeze before a thunderstorm—and he’s itching for a cigarette. ross looks at her again as she stares out at the trees outside, swaying with the wind. one strong gust and she shivers. her skin erupts in goosebumps.

“you’re cold.”

she quickly shakes her head. “it’s fine, it’s so nice outside. i don’t mind that much.”

he wishes he was wearing some kind of a jacket that he could give her. the though of her in his clothes does something absolutely primal to him to the point where he has to physically stop himself from grabbing her by the waist and kissing her till she’s dizzy and moaning in his mouth. and she doesn’t help matters by moving a little closer to him, until they’re almost touching, until her arm is almost pressed up against his chest.

“you’re cold,” he says again, voice tinged with roughness but she clicks her tongue.

“‘s alright. you’re warm.”

“am i?” he chuckles deeply and takes a hold of her by her arm. “come here then. have a cigarette with me.”

it’s about as bold as he’s been with her. she whips her head up to look at him, and ross doesn’t miss the way her gaze dips to his mouth. just for a moment, maybe even half a second until she quickly looks away and at his chest.

“i don’t… i don’t smoke.”

“ever?”

that makes her giggle. “no ross. i don’t smoke. ever.”

he wants to say something but the words don’t come out easily. the palm of his hand feels electric just from touching her arm, just from being so close to her. and the breeze all around them makes it impossible to escape her sweet perfume.

“i’m not opposed to trying though,” she continues shyly and ross quirks an eyebrow.

“you could try with me…”

“i’d like that.” he studies her face for a moment, looks at her big eyes staring up at him with a mix of sincerity and interest.

“do you know what to do?”

she mulls it over for a moment, pinching her lips together until they’re in a kissy pout. “sure, i’ve seen people do it. i’ve seen you do it.”

“have you now?”

“mmhmm, seems easy enough.”

so ross pulls out a fresh one from the pack and places it between her lips. his finger grazes her bottom lip, the touch electrifying, making him linger there until her gaze dips to his mouth again and a light flush covers her face. she shivers again and steps even closer to him than before.

“should i light it then?”

she nods tentatively, and ross flicks the lighter on. the flame wavers, almost goes out until he shields it with his palm and brings it up to her mouth. the fire casts a warm glow on her face, in her eyes. and she’s somehow even more breathtaking than he’s ever imagined.

once the cigarette lights, she takes an unsure inhale and breaks out into a cough until there are tears brimming on her lashline and she’s pushing ross away lightly for laughing at her.

“you’re helpless,” he teases. “here. let me.”

his hands graze her lips once again as he takes the cigarette from between her lips. it’s smudged with her lipstick, something sheer and pink. then he places it in his mouth, lazily taking a drag.

“watch.” she obeys instantly, pupils dialating when her eyes linger on his mouth until her lips part and she swallows visibly. he takes the moment to blow the smoke out, bending down so he can blow it in her parted mouth without startling her too much. her eyes widen and she sucks in sharply but this time she doesn’t cough. instead, she bunches her lips together and tries to blow out some of the smoke she inhaled. it comes out in broken wisps and disappears on the wind.

“there we go, darling,” he speaks roughly and watches her blush all the way to the tip of her ears. “should we try that again?”

she nods. he takes another drag. this time, he grips her chin between his fingers, tilting it up until her mouth is so close to his and he can practically feel her breath on his skin. her pupils are so blown out, her eyes almost look black. then he lightly brushes her lips to his and blows the smoke out again.

ross stays where he is. he even pulls her closer until she’s pressed against him and her eyes flutter shut. her breath hitches, her hands move up to his biceps, gripping onto him until she exhales again and smoke caresses his mouth before dissipating once more.

“a-again,” she whimpers but he’s already taking the cigarette out of his mouth and putting it out on the railing.

“yeah?” he challenges just to see if she’d move away but her hands move up from his biceps, fingers traliing up his arms until they’re at the nape of his neck, nails softly trailing down his skin. and when she shivers again, it’s definitely not because of the cold.

“yeah,” she nods and presses her lips onto his.

his heart skips at how unsure it feel, how she has to stand on the very tips of her toes and hold onto his just so she won’t lose her balance. he doesn’t give her a lot of time to overthink it though. as soon as he’s over the initial shock, he wraps and arms around her until she’s fully pressed against him, effectively trapped between him and the railing. the light drizzle of rain starts again. ross grabs her face in his hands, keeping her still so her can kiss her properly—the kind that leaves her gasping when he grazes her bottom lip with his teeth, the kind that has her leaning against him entirely for balance when her knees almost buck under her. the kind that makes her moan involuntarily but ross doesn’t let her pull away in embarrassment. instead, he pulls her up until her legs are wrapped around his middle, her thighs pressed against his waist and his hands under her ass. and then he carries her back inside.

just like he predicted, he fills up the tiny little space of the recording booth. the mic stand clatters and she moves it aside with a ferocity that’s unlike anything he’s seen from her before, it’s a nice surprise, to see just a glimpse into her feral side.

ross groans into the kiss and slides his hand under her ass. his fingers snake up her neck, gripping her jaw in a grip that’s almost too tight. it’s tempting to mark her up, to leave behind bitemarks and fingerprints everywhere for people to see. she responds in kind and bites his bottom lip just hard enough to make him hiss.

“someone’s going to hear us”

“it’s a soundproof booth darling, no one’s going to know a thing.”

his hand that’s been cupping her jaw slowly moves to her throat and she lets out a whine so desperate and needy that all the blood rushes straight to his cock. she’s practically begging for more at this point and he hasn’t even properly touched her yet.

he thinks back to all the times he’s thought of her like this, so malleable in his hands—thought of the feel of her hair between his fingers that damned bottom lip that’s driven him so crazy over the last few days. he can’t resist nipping at it and the sting makes her breath catch.

“i’ve nev-i’ve never done this.”

his heart thuds in his chest and for a second he worries she’s entirely inexperienced. not that he’d have a problem being her first… but he’d be damned if he let her first time be in a fucking recording booth.

“done what?”

“hooked up.” she clarifies almost through a gritted tone, almost like she’s trying not to be ashamed of it. “outside of relationships i mean.”

“no? do you want to stop?”

she takes a beat to think then shakes her head. “no, i-i just really want you.”

ross hums in approval. it does stroke his ego immensely if he’s being honest and he can’t help but see how far he can push her buttons. “do you now? what do you want about me?”

just like she had outside, she blushes furiously, to the point where she has to stare right at his chest and take a moment to compose herself. her hands never let go of his chest though. and it’s safe to assume she can feel his racing heartbeat just like he can hear hers.

“your hands are… i like your hands.”

“do you think about my hands a lot?”

“i don’t–i d—” her eyes go round again, wide as saucers, almost like it’s impossible for her to lie.

“no lying, sweetheart.” he tsks, and then bends down just until his mouth caresses her earlobe. “bad girls don’t get what they want.”

she makes a stragled noise, somewhere between a moan and a sound of protest but ross cocks his eyebrow and that shuts her up effective. a beat later, she tries again.

“fine. yes. i think about your hands a lot. all the time…”

“and what are my hands doing when you think about them?”

he enjoys it very much when she stutters, trying and failing to meet his eyes, to say the dirty words in her head out loud. that alone is enough for his painfully hard cock to throb again.

“go on,” he breathes over her skin and lets his hands trail up and down her body, “show me what my hands do.”

she places her palm on the back of his hand, so much smaller in comparison, and moves it down her body. he lets his fingers trail, lets the callouses pads of his fingers brush over every inch of skin he can until she stops just at the waistline of her jeans and looks up at him again.

“i want you t-to…to touch me. use your fingers on me.”

“that what you think about hmm?” slowly, the slowest he possibly can without jumping out of his own skin, he undoes the button of her jeans. then he pulls down the zipper, all the while letting his knuckles drag across her skin. she shivers at the smallest of touches, so responsive and perfect.

“words, darling,” he taunts again. “i’ll stop touching you if you stop telling me what you want.”

“ross,” she whines, and tries to grind against his hand, tries to push it deeper in her pants but he quickly gathers her wrists together and tuts at how little strength he needs, how easily he can hold both her wrists together with just one hand while using the other to feel her up through her underwear.

it’s soaked and he can clearly feel her clenching and unclenching, desperately trying to move her hips and grind shamelessly against his hand but he won’t give her what she wants until she forces the filthy words out.

“please!”

“you’re soaked, sweetheart. i can give you what you want but only if you ask for it.”

her eyebrows knit together and she almost looks… angry, about as feral and threatening as a little bunny. “fine…” she huffs, “i want–i want you to fuck me. with your fingers.”

the crass words sound filthier from her mouth, like she shouldn’t be saying things like these to lecherous old men in dark corners on even darker nights. “see?” he grins at her, all sharp teeth ready to almost rip into her, “was that so hard?”

when they kiss again, ross pushes his tongue inside her mouth until all he can taste is her, until all her can smell is her. his fingers move faster against her clothed pussy, making the fabric soak more than it was before and her legs spread wider, her hips move faster until she’s soaking his hand and practically rutting against it.

she’s shaking, clenching around nothing and looking at him with tears in her eyes—so frustrated now, constantly whining for him to push his fingers inside her. slowly, ross pushes the underwear aside and circles her entrance with his middle finger. before she has the chance to whine again, he plunges the fingers inside and swallows her cry with another kiss.

she clenches around his finger desperately, slickening his hand every time he pushes into her, more so when he adds another finger and thrusts into her faster. as a reward he lets go of her wrists and she immediately latches onto him, pushes her hands inside his shirt and lets them greedily roam all over his body. she traces his chest and down his stomach, she lets her nails trail up his back, scratching and digging into his flesh every time he thrusts his fingers deep inside her.

her breathing quickens and she starts pressing kisses to his jaw, tracing the golden chain around his neck with her tongue. every so often she tries to nip at his skin, to leave some of her own marks behind. once or twice he lets her… but it’s more fun to hear her gasp and mewl and cry out his name.

“good girl,” he coos at her, “taking it so well, sweetheart.”

“feel so good,” she whispers and lets her head fall back. under his hand, her thigh spasms lightly and his pulse pounds all over his body—his chest and throat and stomach and fuck even his cock that so hard and leaking with precum now.

he needs her so bad, bad enough that he entertains the idea of pulling his fingers out and bending her over right there.

but this might be his one and only time with her and he needs to make it memorable.

he needs her to feel him between her legs for days and taste him on her tongue for weeks.

he needs to bottle up her gasps and whimpers and the feel of her cunt around his fingers and keep it hidden away forever.

so he needs to make her cum over and over again until she can’t remember any other name but his.

and he’s not about to do all that here of all places.

“‘m so close,” she moans out, rutting her hips faster now, almost trying to match his thrusts and ross increases his pace, presses his thumb against her clit harder than before. “kiss me.”

instantly, he obeys, getting lost into the kiss and the way it sends little currents through his blood. she’s no better either, exploring the inside of his mouth with her tongue and riding her fingers until he can practically feel her dripping down his hands and wrist. until she lets out a string of curses and her eyes roll back. she lets out a broken moan, louder than all the ones before and he feels her squeeze around his fingers harder then before.

then he feels her release, gushing onto his hand until he has to hold her up so her legs won’t give out on her.

ross doesn’t stop though, he pumps his fingers in and out of her, each time earning himself another cry or hiss or groan until the tremor in her body subsides to a slight shiver and she presses her face into his chest, sweaty and barely coherent.

“that was–” she tries and breaks off. “you were–”

“have i left you speechless, sweetheart?” he teases pointedly. “look at me.”

when she manages to open her eyes, ross pulls his fingers out of her and brings them to her mouth.

“suck,” he orders. to his surprise she obeys without hesitation. her mouth closes over his fingers, taking them all the way in until her lips are around the base of his fingers. then she swirls her tongue around them and licks them clean. every inch, every crevice.

she lets them go with a slight pop and ross almost gets on his knees right there.

“you are not what i imagined,” he whispers, not trusting his voice at all.

“am i better?”

he only nods in response and kisses her deeply, tasting her on his tongue, tasting the tang of her release mixed with her saliva.

“let me take you home,” he offers. “i want to fuck you. but not here. i want to fuck you properly.”

“like a gentleman,” she giggles.

he worries she might say no. but she only pulls away to button her jeans properly.

“let’s go then,” she smiles mischievously and hooks a finger through his chain, eyeing it with intent. “i have thought of loads of other things apart from your hands.”

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl

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#this is the longest. the others are not going to be this long #well it's already past midnight when i'm posting this so i'm already a day late but shh you didn't see that #valentine75 #valentine's week #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald smut #minors dni #the 1975 fanfic

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jaylver · 7 months

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GOLDEN HOUR — S.JY

synopsis: a lovesick jake wasn’t going to stop himself from being impulsive and say those three words that he has been saving for another time. seeing you during the golden hour, sun beaming on your skin, looking ever so perfect, he couldn’t hold himself back. how could you blame the poor guy anyway?

pairings: non-idol!jake x afab!reader

genre: undertone of friends to lovers, fluff, cheesy confessions, romance

warning(s): profanities

wc: 889

a/n: a little self indulgent fic hehe. hope you'll enjoy this! please leave some feedbacks and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah <3

Jake was in love.

It wasn’t those typical teen romances where people dated just for the sake of experience, no, it was something more than that. A connection deep enough to etch into the skins of one another, pulling you to him and him to you, there was an undying spark that continuously lingered without extinguishing.

Jake was the embodiment of love. He was love itself.

It was one of those days where it was only you and him, alone in his car right after he had picked you up and drove you home. But instead of leaving right away, the car was parked a few blocks down from yours, Frank Ocean’s ‘Blonde’ playing on shuffle in the background. The sky was a hue of pink and orange, telling you that it was time to head home, yet you weren’t willing to.

“Thanks for driving me home … again,” you laughed, feeling slightly embarrassed for having inconvenienced Jake, but he was thinking the complete opposite of being inconvenienced.

“It’s no problem,” Jake smiled, and no matter how hard he tried, he was still nervous around you. Maybe because he was dying to profess his love for you, confess and get you to be his, but he was holding himself back. “It’s along the way back to my house anyway,” it wasn’t.

Jake could already imagine the missed calls from his mother, text messages asking about his whereabouts, making it a routine for him to be home a little later than usual.

“Still, I feel bad sometimes,” you shrugged out of earnest. “But I’m really grateful, though,”

“I want to do this, Y/N, don’t feel bad,” his hold on the steering wheel tightened, watching the sun hitting your skin, making it almost glitter-like. You were the most beautiful person he has ever seen.

You nodded, biting on your lips thoughtfully. “I don’t really want to leave,”

Jake swore he felt his heart stop and revive, then proceeding to beat at ten times speed. The effect of your words surely made him light headed. “Then don’t,” he joked lightly, highkey dying internally. “‘Blonde’s’ still playing! Plus, ivy is next, isn’t it your favourite song?”

“You remembered!”

Of course he did. He remembered everything about you like second nature.

“It's nothing,” he laughed, waving you off, but internally feeling giddy when he saw your beaming face. You were so, so pretty.

“It is something to me,” you said softly and truthfully, staring into those puppy eyes of his.

“I like you,” Jake blurted out, as if the words were poured out before it even went through his mind. He did not expect himself to do this at all. Fuck.

Your wide eyes and gaped mouth only made him anxious, short silence filling the space between you two. Say something! Say something!

“I like you too, Jake,”

There it was.

“W–what?”

“Hm?” you tilted your head, looking back at Jake’s shock expression. “Did you expect a rejection instead?”

“Well—kinda—no—uh—” he was stuttering. The famous charmer Jake Sim was actually stuttering and losing his composure.

“I like you, very very much,” you said it again, each time making Jake’s heart flutter insanely.

“God, Y/N, you’re—” he exhaled, in disbelief that he had bagged his crush, “—everything, absolutely everything to me,”

Jake reached over for you and pulled you into his arms, squeezing you tight. The moment he let go, his eyes wouldn’t leave your face. He was taking every part of you in, gaze wandering every inch of your features as if he was memorising them.

“I—uhm—should leave, shouldn’t I?” you broke the momentary silence, noticing the time gradually slipping by. “As much as I want to stay, I don’t think my mum would approve,”

“O–oh, yeah! Sorry, I forgot,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, managing a lopsided smile for you.

“It’s okay. Text me when you reach home safely, will you?”

“I will,” he squeezed your hand in reassurance. “You should get going now,”

“I probably should,” you nodded, holding onto your things tightly. “Bye, Jakey,”

“Bye,” he breathed out, staring at you with so much love that no one else could amount to. But then, he remembered something.

“Hey—” he went to stop you before you could exit his car, “so, summer’s coming up and I was wondering if you’d like to go somewhere with me,”

“Something like a date?”

“Very much so,”

“I’d love to,”

“Cool,”

“Cool,” you repeated, snickering a little at Jake’s reddening ears. “Make sure to tell me about your plans. Bye!” you snuck a quick peck on his cheek before exiting the car and slamming the door shut, turning around to wave him goodbye before disappearing behind your front door, all while the only thing Jake could do was stay in shock.

His fingers lingered on the spot your lips had made contact with, giddiness welled up in Jake’s stomach, butterflies swarming and heart going crazy. You just had that effect on him, always, undoubtedly.

It was just two lovers, sitting in the car, listening to ‘Blonde’ and falling for each other. Tension finally broken and true feelings revealed, Jake could die a happy man right there and then. You were his golden hour, his radiant beam in the night, the love of his life, and he wouldn’t trade anything for it.

☆ permanent taglist (open):

@silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog

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lxvvie · 28 days

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A relationship with Morgott the Omen King would consist of:

Embodying the quintessential enemies/frenemies to lovers trope.

Morgott being fascinated by the obvious size difference and as a result, he's much gentler with you.

Bickering like an old married couple. Well, Morgott does.

On the other hand, you think he's your living, breathing jungle gym and so you take every moment you can to just... be all over him.

Him not understanding your fascination with his tail. It's not uncommon to find you playing with it or— are those... flowers wreaths? On his tail?

Of course, Morgott highkey lowkey indulges your fascination, teasing you by holding his tail high enough so you can't reach it.

Chiding Morgott for his self-care. Or lack thereof. It's improved with your help.

Trying to convince him to change that cloak of his to something not so tattered but Skrunklegott can't be bothered so... there's that. For now. You're totally gonna get Boc to rectify this.

Morgott leaning into your touch whenever you touch his horns. Or his face. Hell, whenever you touch him, he's a goner.

Strolls in nature outside of Leyndell. Sometimes you walk alongside him, sometimes you don't and his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable.

Beholding the Erdtree together at night. This is also when you two shared your first kiss.

Morgott being the first to say those three words. You thought it was cute how flustered he was. Morgott was so shocked by his confession (he blurted it out) that he was about to take it back out of embarrassment until you smiled and told him you loved him, too.

Morgott highkey planning your future with him because let him tell it, he knew early on that you'd be his consort.

#2queued4u.#elden ring #eldensoulsborne #morgott the omen king #elden ring x reader #elden ring x you #morgott x reader #morgott x you #morgott x tarnished #✨ TarGott is eternal.✨

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shadesoflsk · 5 months

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WILL YOU BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS?

pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x gn!reader

summary: It's going to be Leon's first Christmas without you. He promised you he would get over your death. But how is he planning to do it if the ghost of you keeps haunting him?

warnings: Character’s death, (reader) angst, hurt/no comfort, self-destructing behaviour, alcohol, mentions of religion, Leon speaks with reader.

author's note: I took the liberty to switch the order of my Christmas' special fics, I decided to post this one first since I liked it a lot. I would even say it’s my favorite one so far. Grief is such an interesting topic to write about, so I hope I did a great job! The dialogue part was lowkey (highkey) inspired by one scene from the Crown, season 6. The one where Carlos talked with Diana’s spirit.

It’s 11:45 pm or so Leon believes. Time seems to slow down when night engulfs his apartment, and he is let alone with his own demons. He would be in pitch darkness if it wasn’t from the fact that his neighbor had decided to turn on the Christmas tree lights that reached through Leon’s windows. Faint carols could be heard, and it was a dreadful reminder of what date it was.

He is trying, he really is. He drowns in his job that is slowly but surely killing him. Mission after mission, he keeps attempting to mess up — with no avail — since life is cruel enough to keep him alive, to continue watching his sins materialize in sorrow and depressive states.

During the latter, he would often forget or purposely avoid taking care of himself. When was the last time he ate a full meal? He doesn’t nor wants to remember. His apartment was starting to reek of alcohol and rotten food that Claire has so gratefully left. She would often try striking up some conversation, which was welcomed with an awkward but expected silence. He was never the talkative one. On numerous occasions, he was reprimanded by you for this same topic. So, in the past, he decided to stick with a one-liner — that sometimes brought him unnecessary attention — the dinner one. Your laugh would fill his ears as he told you about the multiple times where people thought he was flirting with them. If you were here, could he make you laugh like that again? Or would you be disgusted by the man he has become these last weeks?

Besides his own memory serving as the place where your face and mannerisms would replay all over again, where are you now? He once heard that a soul is destined to be reborn into a new life. Life is cyclical, the sun rises and sets, the day and night come, but they never meet. He wouldn’t be surprised if you’re a lilly now. The pureness in your heart resembled one of those delicate flowers that your eyes seemed to follow each time you passed through a flower shop. Or maybe you’re someone’s baby being born. Bringing happiness to a family that prayed all night long for a miracle to happen.

His mind wandered through the blurry moments when he was young. Prayers and cries surrounding a well illuminated place where many statues were presented. He used to fear one specifically, but the gentle touch of his mom would pull him closer to it. In his memory, he looked up to see the person who gave him life, yet he was met with a diffuse image of her. He has long forgotten the looks of his mother.

In those moments, he often wondered what heaven felt like. He grasps on the last string of memories he had with his parents. How his mother would pull him to her lap and read to him. “Our God loves us so much that he has granted us a place to go when the time is right,” she would say, the term of death was so foreign to his little self but once again he remembers those prayers and promises. Is heaven the clear sky and peaceful home the Bible describes? Or is it a nonexistent place that Christians invented to cope with the fact that a loved one is no longer with them? He hopes it’s the first one since he wants to indulge in that little wish of him — that at least in the afterlife — you found peace.

How is heaven? He wanted to ask you. Conversations with you used to flow so easily, so right. So, when the time comes he expects to hear every little rambling about your early trip to this called “everlasting paradise”. Is it raining right now? You loved rainy days, since it meant that both of you could cuddle while watching a movie. Or is it snowing since it’s Christmas? He could almost hear you, your voice echoing in the deepest places of his mind telling him to stop trying to open the gifts. You were supposed to be next to him right now, waiting for Christmas to come.

He is in denial, two weeks ago he had you safely tucked in his arms, already planning what to do on Christmas. He still had your gift somewhere, hidden from your prying eyes even though you kept scolding him for that. Both of you were soulmates, two sides of the same coin.

Now, he only had the ghost of you haunting him. Mocking him for not being able to protect you. He was hyper aware of every little detail his apartment provided. From the way he hasn’t moved your used mug on the dishwasher, because he feels that it was the last thing your lips touched. A bittersweet memory of your existence in this cruel world, to your book that you didn’t finish. You kept telling him that you were dying to know the ending but you couldn’t finish it before it was too late. If he reads it and prays to God, would he be generous enough to tell you the ending?

He wouldn’t.

Every night he prayed to God, begged him to switch places with you even though it was an unrealistic thing to ask. But that’s what he wants right now. “It should’ve been me.” But that wish never becomes a reality. He wakes up, night after night, being him and being alone. God doesn’t hear him, he believes that this made up character just blatantly hates him. The forgiving, the loving and almighty God as his followers describe him, just doesn’t match up with his own criteria. A loving God wouldn’t have taken away his only reason to live.

The content in his Jack Daniel’s now does little to numb the pain he was feeling. With a sigh, he drank a bit more, straight from the bottle as the burning sensation traveled from his tongue to his throat. If he drinks enough until he passes out, he could imagine you. Moving across the kitchen with agile steps as you cook his favorite food.

Those moments were the ones he thinks he should've embraced more. Your quirks and habits. How you usually left traces of yourself in his apartment. How you always missed a spot when cleaning the counter and how you always kissed his forehead when placing the plate down on the table.

Now, it's a bitter reminder of his own loneliness. His eyebrows twitched as the Christmas carols seemed to get louder. The clock reads 11:50 pm, ten minutes to Christmas. Even with the thick snow, the chants of kids being too stubborn to fall asleep were loud enough to fill Leon's ears. He hates living in this neighborhood filled with happy families.

You had a wide and warm smile when you showed Leon this same apartment he's currently rotting in. “It will be perfect once we have a family,” he remembers word by word what you said and he also remembers how you stumbled on your words once you saw the quizzical look he gave you. “I mean we could just have a dog or a cat if you want that. After all, family is where you are.”

Always the damn perfect partner. Always the stupid understanding other half. Why the hell did you even appear in his life if you were gonna die? Everyone else mourned your death but now they are moving on, yet Leon is staying in a never ending loop. Was it your plan? Are you fucking happy in heaven?

For once, he feels all the anger he’s been bottling up. His fists clenched as his breaths grew heavier. He throws the bottle against the wall. The contents spilling all over the floor as the bottle shattered in multiple pieces. He stared at the mess he’s done. His shaking hands grabbed handfuls of his own hair as he tried his best to compose himself. His mind repeating that you would be disappointed over and over again.

Icy blue eyes started to get clouded by tears he refused to let go. The palm of his hand almost bled by his own nails digging into the thin skin. The regrets and what ifs were the perfect combination for Leon’s wish of dying albeit the fact of his own self deprecating being who believed he deserved to live this hell of a life alone.

As he managed to keep his tears at bay for now, his eyes lingered on your designated seat at the table. You would always sit at his right, next to him, sometimes holding his hand, forcing him to eat his food with his left one. Now, his hand is cold without your touch. Which reminds him of your body and the last time he held you. Your heart no longer beat and your body was a freezing cruel realization of your death.

“I was never good with emotions…” Leon’s voice came out as a groan. He had finally spoken after God knows how long. His own throat was constricted by the lump that was forming. He was denying himself the right to be raw, to be human. “You were the one who was better at everything… not me.” Leon swallows his own saliva, an attempt to stop the imminent lump.

“I guess I was.” A melodic voice which was no more than a whisper filled Leon’s intoxicated ears. He looks at the empty seat next to him and sees nothing. It may be his own mind playing dirty tricks on him. Everything was blurred and dizzy from all the booze he had drunk. But nonetheless, he wouldn’t miss this opportunity, even if you were a creation of his own messed up mind.

“I’ll take every little moment with me.” The voice was painfully comforting, a soothing lullaby to Leon’s broken beyond repair heart, a gentle breeze that surrounded his body. “The hugs, the kisses, our little trips to the beach and even the fights when none of us could go to bed without saying sorry.”

A laugh as soft as a draft lingered in the air. The reality behind those words made Leon feel like he was going crazy. He blames the alcohol and the lack of social interactions for this moment. But your bubbly personality was unmistakable. That sweet and tooth- roothing laugh was — at least to Leon — proof that maybe, just maybe, God allowed him to grasp on you one last time.

Or maybe God allowed you to pay him a visit. Neither of you were religious people, but you were closer to heaven that he’ll ever be. So, maybe that pure and wholesome smile blinded God, and you escaped, true to your rebellious nature. Your death turned him into a sappy man. He has always loved you, but the tragic destiny you met made him see you in an even better light.

“You know I loved you so much…” The voice turned sour and sad, so out of character for you. Well… if it’s you. Even in your last days, you tried to be that thoughtful partner, pushing away every worry out of his mind even though you were slowly withering away. The words slightly trembled, albeit the raw honesty that was being said. Silence set as if the owner of the voice was attempting not to cry.

“So deeply…” The hushed voice seemed to get even quieter as the course of its words dug deeper in Leon’s heart making it bleed harder than ever. His hand itches to reach where he thinks you are, as if you could materialize from thin air and give him one last hug. One last farewell.

“Please, stop blaming yourself for this. This wasn’t your fault.” Yes, it was. Leon wanted to tell you that. You planted seeds of hope in his heart even when he felt the world was too corrupted to be home for someone as splendid as you. The sense of your living left him chasing footsteps and shadows in order to meet you again.

And as a moth to a flame, he followed you. The chemicals in his brain working overtime to hear the gentle ring of your voice as long as you keep talking. It doesn’t matter if this behavior could put him at a psych after. Talking with ghosts? That can’t happen, yet his love for you seems to break the rules between life and the realms of the afterlife.

“You weren’t supposed to go so soon…” Leon’s voice fills the dim room, engaging in conversation, the tears that he was previously fighting off were at the verge of falling from his eyes. But as a stubborn man, he wouldn’t show weakness and vulnerability, even in a moment like this. “I know nothing good lasts long in my life but —” a choke left his lips as the lump is now growing impossible to hold back. “What kind of twisted sin am I paying off? I can’t live a life without you, I simply can’t.”

“I wasn’t done with you, I wasn’t done with our life. I wanted to adopt that dog we saw at the shelter. Do you remember? I wanted to take you to Italy because you once told me you wanted to try a real pizza.” A shaky breath cuts off Leon’s speech before he continues, his slurred words stumbling one another as if he knew he was running out of time. “I wanted to grow old with you, I wanted to be the first person to notice the gray hair appearing in you. The first wrinkles in your face, which I’m sure would have looked amazing in you darling, you were always perfect. I wanted to help you stand up when your legs couldn’t carry the weight of your body. I wanted —”

“Leon.”

“I wanted to at least spend one last Christmas with you.”

He finishes off with one last wish. One last desire he had hid in his mind for a while now. He knew everything had ended, but right now, he wanted to hear you one last time. He wanted to hear an "I love you" from you.

And there it was… the last thing he wanted to hear. Nothing.

As soon as the deadly silence filled the room again, uncontrollable tears streamed down his face. Leon bent forward, his forehead hitting against the hard material of the table, letting out all of his repressed emotions. In the midst of his despair and hatred, he cried not only for you and the fact that he failed to protect you. Each drop carried the weight of every life that was lost under his watch, each one of those bright eyed agents who were looking forward to working with him, and only found death in their paths.

What has he done wrong to deserve this terrible but inevitable outcome? He’s beyond tired, beyond hopeless. In his rage, he could only blame the world.

God, why have you forsaken me?

He stays there for a while, drowning in his own tears. As reality once again sets in. Deep down, he knew this would be the last time. The universe granted him (or cursed him) by allowing him to hear you one last time. Hear the tender tone of your voice calling his name like you used to do. And maybe he should take that with him just like you did.

Everyone dies, so will he. There will be a time when God takes pity on him and allows him to meet you once again. Once the time comes and he's sent to the place where you are, he will tell you about the book’s ending. He will tell you about every mission he will get in the still unknown future. He will tell how much he missed you and how much he loved your presence, even if it was just the blink of an eye. He doesn’t know what else he will tell you, but he’s going to make sure to have a list before parting from this world — in a long, far future.

He had enjoyed meeting and being with you. And if somehow God gives him another chance, he would choose you over and over again.

The sweet carols have grown faint and not even the innocent chants of those children filled Leon’s empty and dark living room. It’s already christmas.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #vendetta leon #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy drabble

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traumxrei-archive · 1 year

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【 at the end of a day. 】

'i hope my own shoulders, and thick hands will become your comfort at the end of a tiring day. you did a good job, you worked so hard.' (ft. leona kingscholar)

gn! reader, word count: 1.7k, warning! mention of burnout and academic stress

a/n: i've been highkey stressed bc of deadlines, so i wrote this. this being self indulgent hurt/comfort with leona kingscholar. hope that everyone's taking care of themself this exam season ^^

To be honest, Leona was annoyed. But that was his selfishness talking, he wasn't annoyed at Yuu, he was more annoyed at all the deadlines taking up their time. He hasn't seen them in days now.

And to be even more honest, he was...worried. He stared at his phone, at how his texts and calls had been going unanswered for hours now. It was normal for them not to text everyday, but they had also told him that they get too engrossed in studying at times. Leona hazarded that this was one of those times.

That was why Leona was here, staring up at their self-imposed prison called Ramshackle, a bag of food in his hand. He was sure Yuu was in there, watching the flicker of their curtain from their open window. He trudged through the empty halls, climbing up the familiar staircase till he reached the front of their room.

He could feel the prickle of the ghosts' stares on him, and he turned into the empty air, "How long has the herbivore been at it?"

A ghost materialized near him, "It's been...hours since they've stopped to rest."

"And Grim?"

"Grim stormed out after they refused to stop and take a break," Another ghost said, looking sadly at the room.

"Alright," He sighed, hand on their doorknob. "Tell Grim to enter the room quietly when he's back. Don't worry, I'll get them to rest."

After the briefest of moments, he opened the door.

Light filtered through the open window, and he saw Yuu hunched over their desk. He saw a stack of textbooks next to them, accompanied by the faint glow of their computer screen. There were papers strewn all over the table and floor, and he even spotted what looked like dried alchemy ingredients in vials in the corner.

Leona wasted no time sitting on their bed. The creak most definitely drew their attention because they finally spoke, hand still scribbling on their notebook, "Grim? Hey, I'm sorry about earlier, I–"

"Try again."

And that was when Yuu finally froze. They turned slowly, a disbelieving look on their face as they saw him, "Leona. Did Grim ask you to come? You didn't tell me you were coming, I–"

"Was studying, I know," Leona watched as they scrambled to find something. "I called you a couple of times earlier, and you didn't reply."

They finally found it: their phone, buried under a stack of papers, "I'm...so sorry, my phone's out of battery."

"That's rare," Leona said, taking the phone from their hands and plugging it in. "How long has it been since you took a break?" He didn't really need to ask. He could see the fatigue smudged under their eyes, and in their unfocused gaze. It had been long enough since they took a break. But he wanted to hear it directly from them.

Yuu shrugged, "A couple of hours?" He sighed, approaching them.

"What time is it?" Leona towered over their seat, his arms boxing them in. "And don't even try cheating, herbivore." This close, he could see the messiness of their desk, the empty waterbottles discarded on the side, and the multitude of tabs open on their laptop. He could also see the sleepy droop of their eyes, their fingers reddened and raw from where the pencil had indented itself there for who knows how long.

They finally met his eyes, offering a tentative, "It's...uhm, 11am...?"

Leona's hands tightened its grip on their chair, "Herbivore, it's 2pm." He watched as the realization followed by panic play out on their face before he tugged them up.

"Sit on the bed. If I see you touching your computer or phone, you're dead meat," Leona ran a hand through his hair out of frustration more than anything. "And eat this. I'll go get you some water."

Once he saw them opening the bag, Leona made his way to their kitchen. He grabbed a tall glass of water, placing the empty water bottles in the sink before leaving.

When he made his way back up, they were sitting on the bed with a notebook open. Yuu raised their hands in surrender when they saw him, "You said no phone or computer. Nothing about notebooks."

Leona's jaw ticked, "Put that away and eat." They followed his order wordlessly, throwing the notebook onto the floor. Meanwhile he busied himself with their computer saving whatever was open, before closing it.

They had already scarfed down most of the rice bowl when they finally spoke again, "Are you mad at me?"

"More like frustrated at how bad you are at taking care of yourself when you study," Leona mumbled, pushing the water into their hands. They gulped it down all in one go and he sighed. "When's your next deadline?"

Yuu glanced at the clock, "4pm tomorrow."

"And how much is done?"

"Most of it, but–"

"That means you're sleeping. Now."

"Leona. I can't just...I can't sleep," There was this defeated look on Yuu's face and Leona wanted nothing more than to will it away.

"Elaborate for me," He sat across from them now, as they pushed around their rice. "Why can't you sleep?" Instead of answering, they let the silence grow, placing their food to the side table.

"It's...stupid."

"It's not stupid if you're still thinking about it," He frowned more openly now. He couldn't pretend to understand what they were going through. No matter how much knowledge he had, it would never give him the ability to read another's mind. All he could do was wait for them to open up.

"I just... Sleeping seems like a waste of time when I've got this much work," The words rushed out into the quiet of the room, and they gulped, as if they had been waiting to say them for so long. They almost choked on the words, their voice rising higher as they spoke, "It's stupid, because... well obviously you need sleep to be able to work. But I feel...guilty. There's so much to do and not enough time and I've been working deadline-to-deadline and...

Yuu head hung forward, "I'm so tired." The sentence was said in a whisper, almost like it was a plead for help.

"Herbivore..." Leona's heart ached for them. It wasn't only because of their struggles. No, it was because he was familiar with the feeling. Of wanting to do so much, and yet his body couldn't take it. Of struggling in vain in front of walls too tall for him to ever reach. Of the tiredness clawing at his limbs, until he had given up and surrendered to days of listless sleep.

"Let's sleep," Yuu nodded shortly; a clear attempt at deflecting. "I haven't slept since yesterday morning, I should—"

Leona caught their arm, meeting their eyes, "Hey. I can't say that I know what you're going through. But...I've been somewhere similar. And you're not alone. I see all the effort you're putting in; all that hard work. And I..."

Leona let out a soft sigh, his hand reaching to hold theirs, "I'm proud of you, okay?"

And he meant it. He meant every last word, because there was no one that could make him prouder than Yuu could. He just...hoped that they would believe him; believe in their own hard work and effort.

"Are you...trying to make me cry?" Their eyes burned with unshed tears as they glared at him, and Leona met their stare with a pang in his heart. It wasn't his intention to make them cry, of all things. He really was unskilled with words at times.

"No. I'm trying to get you to realize that you don't need to prove yourself to anyone," Leona wiped at their tears, and they leaned into his palm readily. "Not even to me, okay? Academics are important, but your health is more important."

"Then...could you..." They hesitated again and he squeezed their hand. "Could you stay here with me? Just until my assignments are done. You don't have to help or anything, you can just...sit there. Or nap."

"If that means you sleep and eat on time, then yes. Gladly," Leona strangely felt warm at the thought of them seeking comfort in him, warmer still at the way their hand held his. "You can always call me when you need me. You should go to sleep now."

The herbivore flopped back onto the bed, shuffling so they were lying next to him. Leona covered them with the blanket, an arm under his head.

"Thank you," Their voice was soft, a little wobbly. "For coming, and the food, and...everything."

"Of course," Leona said, voice equally as soft. "I can't just stand by and watch you wear yourself out."

"Thanks to my supportive and caring boyfriend, I can finally rest without feeling guilty," Their eyes finally fluttered shut, and Leona felt his heart squeeze. He leaned toward them, pressing a kiss to the crown of their head. That drew a small smile from them before they were burying their head into their pillow.

Leona waited until he was absolutely sure they were asleep before finally sighing. He was still concerned about if they really were okay. What would've happened if he didn't come sooner? Would he have recieved a summons from Grim? Or worse...the infirmary?

Leona didn't want to think about that. But at least now he could make sure that they would be just fine. He wrapped his arms more securely around them, closing his eyes. For now, all he needed to do was sleep, and when he awakened, he could take care of them.

If what Yuu needed was his presence he would gladly give them his time. If they needed his counsel, he would listen and advice. And if in the end of the day, all they needed was someone to hold them, and tell them they did well...he would do it.

Leona would give them all the comfort that they deserved for that was what Yuu was to him. And he hoped that they would one day regard him to be the same. A warm place to come home to. A place only they knew, and only they could have. Right there, in each others' arms.

(as an easter egg, the title of this fic + the excerpt are lyrics from the song "end of a day" by jonghyun <3 it's a song that comforts me when i'm having a hard day, so i thought i'd share it)

and that's a wrap on the fic ! i hope you enjoyed and that it was able to bring you some comfort <33 if you wanna see more, come check out my masterlist ^^

#/trau writes #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #i was so tired when i wrote this and it really shows oughh #i hope it was comforting enough

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edgeray · 4 months

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Part 1: Sweeter Than Wine(Nico Robin x Fem! Reader)

Part 2

A/N: First post on here :3. This is the culmination of me when I was downbad for like two nights straight. Can you tell how gay I am? This is just 2k words of self-indulgence, I love Miss All Sunday so much, there needs to be more content on her. Who doesn't love a sexy cowgirl?

Warnings: Reader uses female pronouns, Robin may be OOC, Reader is also highkey downbad (I'm sorry, I was projecting), alcohol drinking, pet names(?), if there is more that needs to be added to this please feel free to tell me

Synopsis: You're in a bar. Miss All Sunday strolls in and steals your attention.

Chatter, laughter, and the smell of alcohol filled your senses as you sat on the bar stool, enjoying your drink in one of the bars at Whiskey Peak. Your pinky tapped against the glass of your cup repeatedly as boredom filled your mind. Despite all the drinking and hooligans surrounding you, nothing about all of this was entertaining to you. After all, this happened almost every other week. Naive pirates would come to Whiskey Peak after having just gone through Reverse Mountain and get ambushed by the hundred or so bounty hunters. Then it'd be the end of those little pirates’ journey before it really even started. It was honestly pitiful, and quite frankly, you've long grown tired of throwing up a party and a facade for every unfortunate pirate that stopped by. You were tired of these events even though you yourself were a bounty hunter.

Another pirate crew crushed, what a pity, she sighed as she watched as an orange-haired girl and a moss-headed swordsman drank nearly the entire bar dry. Silence and solitude surrounded you, feeling an empty void within. With a sigh, you turned to your glass and twisted your wrist to observe the swirling of the liquid.

At first, you didn't notice her when she entered the bar. No one did. But then there began whispers of awe and admiration and that was when you finally looked up from your drink.

Your heart halted in your chest as your eyes laid upon the woman who sat herself a few seats away from you. You immediately related to all the dumbstruck stares from your fellow Millions, because how could you not have been infatuated at first glance? Pitch-black shoulder-length straight hair, sun-kissed skin, a skimpy outfit that did wonders in showing her goddess-like stature, and the sexiest cowboy boots and hat met your eyes. But what drew you in wasn't just her physical appearance but the aura that she gave. Seductive confidence exuded from her form and sitting posture even as admirers (including you) ogled at her.

It felt wrong to be staring at her so openly but you couldn't help it–the more you observed her the more she captivated you.

You were never a believer of love-at-first-sight but this had to be pretty damn close. Warmth began to blossom within your abdomen the longer your attention lingered on the new woman and your ears burned at the realization of all the thoughts you were having as you continued to watch her. You snapped your head away from the woman finally when your fantasies became more lewd and you tried to wash those erotic ideas away with your glass of alcohol. You shouldn't be thinking those things for a woman you've never even met, you scolded yourself, shame overwhelming your being. You closed your eyes and tried to shuffle your thoughts on the woman away, hoping for the pitter-patter of your heart to similarly be shooed off.

“Can I buy you a drink?” A low, sultry, feminine purred beside you, the kind of voice that instantly made you want to fold yourself in half. Your eyes flew open as you spun your head towards the direction of the voice and your heart jumped out of your chest when the woman you were fawning over was seated adjacent to you. It's the first time you were able to get a glance at her face and heat instantaneously swarmed your cheeks, your breath hitching at the sight. Soul-piercing ocean blue eyes stare back into you, a smirk played on her perfect lips as she leaned her cheek against her hand, which was propped up by her elbow on the counter. Her body was turned towards you while she leaned against the bar counter so that your eyes could roam freely over her entire front. Her body language oozed with unwavering sensual assurance and from the way she's smirking at you, she most definitely knew it. You desperately attempted to stop your focus from wandering down, knowing if you did you'd probably see her cleavage and at this point, you weren't sure if you'd risk a stroke in front of her just to see it.

“Yes,” you nervously stammered out and a low rumble reverberated from the ravenette's throat as she chuckled. It's music to your ears and you just want to hear it again. She turned to the bartender and requested two glasses of red wine while you instinctively slouched upon feeling the envious weight of other Millions’ stares on your back.

"I hope you don't mind wine, I prefer my drinks on the sweeter side," the alluring woman stated, her smirk growing just a bit when she faced you.

"No, wine is good," you shake your head dumbly, feeling humiliated by your lackluster response. "Thank you," you remember to thank her a moment later.

"Of course. How could I stop myself from buying a drink for such a cute little thing," she replied with a voice laced with honey as she beamed back at you.

You flushed and turned your head away to hide the abashed expression on your face. Your body can't help but be filled with ecstasy at the compliment and your knees couldn't have ached more to be on the floor in front of her. However, you couldn't divert your attention from her for long when she reached out her hand to grasp onto your chin and forcibly but gently tilted your head up towards her gorgeous face again.

"Don't be so shy. I don't bite, I promise. Unless you want me to," the woman whispered as she leaned close to your face, the distance between you only a few inches apart. Her thumb stroke across your bottom lip and impulsively, your tongue swiped against her thumbpad. While embarrassment smacked you across the face, the woman's smile only grew more.

Her next words had you nearly falling out of your seat. "Good girl," she purred and something inside of you stirred.

"What's your name, sweet thing?" She asked as her thumb repeatedly caressed your lip in a circular motion. Like an idiot, your words stumbled over as you tried to recall your name for a second.

"It's nice to meet you. My name is Miss All Sunday." Her voice and every word were laced with syrup despite the shockingly big reveal to you.

"Miss All Sunday?" You repeated quietly as you remembered faintly that Miss All Sunday was the vice-president of Baroque Works. Your world stopped spinning as you came to the realization that you were majorly crushing on one of your bosses, the second highest on the ladder as a matter of fact. You've heard of her, through the rumors of other Millions–how ruthless and powerful she is, yet all you've been fantasizing about is if she's the same way in bed. Oh, how she could snap you in two and you'd thank her, wouldn't you, you taunted yourself in resignation.

"What are you doing here?" You wondered out loud, compelling yourself to rid of all the lewd thoughts.

"There's something I need to take care of here. But it can wait for a little bit, I couldn't help but catch a glimpse of beauty in my eyes," the vice president commented. Your entire face flushed at the compliment. The hand on your chin wandered down and her fingertips scraped against your neck, then down to your shoulders, to your sides, and grazed against your hip until it rested upon your thigh. Your thighs clenched tightly against one another and the reaction amused her. Feather light warm touches danced on your skin as it sent tingles of pleasure throughout your body.

A shuddering sigh left you and you're silently begging for her in your eyes, for more of her, for the entirety of her. You want to greedily soak up everything she can give you and more. She momentarily turned her gaze away from you once the glasses of wine arrived and a disappointed whimper involuntarily escaped your throat. Your pathetic noise earned you a few squeezes on your thigh.

"Would you like a sip?" She inquired as she held onto a glass in her other hand. You nodded slightly and reached out your hand, however, she didn't pass the glass to you. Instead, she brought the glass to her lips and had a sip. She leaned in and using the hand on your thigh as support, she closed the distance between you.

One moment, your lips were bare and cold, and the next, it was met with Miss All Sunday's mouth. You gasped into the kiss and the vice president used the opportunity to pour the red wine from her mouth into yours. The sweet flavor of the beverage overwhelmed your taste buds while the woman in front of you fervently pressed her mouth against yours, each kiss deep like she was savoring the sensation of your lips. Her tongue danced on your lips to request entrance and you swallowed the drink she so generously offered you to allow her in. She immediately dominated your mouth, her tongue exploring every nook and cranny without so much of a struggle from you. You moaned softly against her and tried to press yourself closer to the woman.

The heat in your stomach exponentially grew and the sensuality of it all only made you want to surrender yourself to the woman more. One hand uselessly gripped onto her arm while your other hand clenched around the seat of your chair. Meanwhile, Miss All Sunday's other hand found her way behind your head, making it impossible to escape from the kiss as she ensured you were as close to her as possible. Not that you'd want to escape of course.

You wanted to memorize every texture of her soft lips that unrelentlessly ravished you. It's the sweetest, most relishing thing to you, sugarier than any dessert you've devoured, and more decadent than the most gourmet of meals. And you were getting this for free? You wanted more, no, you needed more, damn the lightheadedness that began to settle in your head. It’s intoxicating the way she took over all your senses, the way you're disarmed with just one kiss, the way she has your entire form trembling, the way your mind is filled with the eternal necessity that is her. She stole your breath not because she's not allowing you to breathe but because suddenly your oxygen supply is Miss All Sunday. But then her mouth leaves your lips and it's only then that you realize you need to breathe oxygen. You gaze at her with half-lidded eyes and a bit of drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, and you can tell that she's pleased with the mess she's reduced you to.

“M-miss,” you mumbled, hungry for more. You were drunk off of her kiss.

“You want more? What an insatiable girl,” she coyly smirked before her eyes scanned around her surroundings. “Looks like we've gained an audience.”

Her last statement sobered you up a little and you too looked around and saw many of the bar's customers scrutinizing you in covetousness. You ducked your head in mortification but the vice president of Baroque Works only chuckled, and she raised a hand to her purple felt hat. “How rude of them to intrude into a private show.”

Her fingers clasped on the brim of the hat and she removed it from her head, before bringing it to the side of your face, essentially creating a shield from the onlookers. You pondered why she was doing that before she leaned in, this time her lips more aggressively crashing against yours and you were caught off by surprise again. Her free hand that was once on your hand cupped your cheek gently, trailing her thumb over your skin. The way that her hat censored the passionate moment from everyone else in the bar only makes it so much more intimate–like a secret shared between just the two of you. It made your heart flutter excitedly; Miss All Sunday, for all how powerful she is and for all she could easily obtain just for being Baroque Work's vice president, was focusing solely on you and you alone. You were the only one that captured her attention and she was kissing you stupid again, making the rest of your world so trivial when she had you in her hold.

It seemed like hours before she parted from your lips, a string of saliva connecting the two of you as you panted for air. Her cerulean eyes softened when she took in the entirety of your expression and she licked her lips sensually. “You're so sweet. Such a good girl.”

“Sweeter than wine."

And she drew you in again.

---

I have a sequel to this. Might post it if I feel like.

#nico robin x reader #nico robin #nico robin x you #nico robin x y/n #nico robin fic #one piece fic #one piece fanfiction #one piece nico robin #one piece x reader #op x reader #edgeray.writes #edgeray.blog

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crystallizsch · 1 month

Note

I want the infodump on Jamil and Yuusha ma'am I beg

THIS HAS BEEN UNANSWERED FOR A MONTH IM SORRY AUGH

but thank you so much yes im okay im normal about them i’ll do my best (for context i mentioned in the tags of one of my posts a while back wanting to infodump about them, but i forget which one it was jfkdlsjhl anyways-)

this won't be a full info dump because i think that would somewhat restrict my dynamic of them if i put it all into words (if that makes sense) ;;;

and i realized i lowkey dont have a coherent timeline for them (yet); i just put them in random scenarios of what i think would be fun at the moment

to make up for it i'll also put a silly self-indulgent sketch dump all below ;;;

I JUST REALIZED I DRAW THEM MAKING EYE CONTACT A LOT (bc something something there's a level of trust that jamil wont use his snake whisper on yuu anymore)

okay now for some random jamiyuu dynamics/hcs/lore

yuu fell first -> yuu lost feelings (bc why would you trust someone who took advantage you) -> ✨ then something happened ✨ -> jamil fell next but harder.

highkey disliked each other -and showed it- in the beginning bc of the whole scarabia drama; then an -accidental- act of service got them to think differently about one another. like "holy shit maybe they're not so bad after all???"

extremely slow burn.

very competitive with one another which then bled into their "flirting" / affectionate acts when they eventually became closer.

basically: “sweetheart” but rivalry -> “babe” but platonically -> “bro” but romantically pipeline.

(“are you flirting or starting a fight”)

yuu kinda throws around “love you” a lot, especially to her close friends; so -during their “platonic” stage- for some reason, jamil was the only “friend” she has not said this to. but it’s okay it’s not like jamil had referred to her as the “f-word” (friend) anyway.

had a mutual agreement that their romantic relationship is temporary because of yuu wanting to go home; they’re just going to “try it out” “no hard feelings”.

yuu made jamil promise to never use snake whisper on her ever again.

jamil: personal beef w/ bugs + afraid of them; yuu: personal beef w/ bugs (w/ a few exceptions) + not afraid of them, just generally pissed at their existence.

dancing and music lowkey became one of their love languages.

kalim genuinely became one yuu’s best friends because of how much they hit it off. jamil always third wheels them no matter the circumstance.

yuu loves grim more than jamil; jamil knows this very well. and so does grim.

#i was today years old that asks will not let me put images next to each other sigh #WAIT IT’S DIFFERENT ON MOBILE #smh tumblr u are stressin me out #anyways idek if you're still here anon but akjfkldsslk #the way i was jumpscared when i saw this in my inbox tho #it just made me really happy that people are interested in these two 😭#im still just afjkdlslsj why #but honestly thank you 🫶#im glad people can enjoy them as much as me #also i am just posting back to back what is wrong with me #i should make the most of it bc my schedule’s going to be BUSY after this week #also also there's one particular way some artists draw jamil's nose and i love it #i really wanna draw it like that too hkdsljs #i'll try it out next time i draw his side profile #[—#✦'-asks #★'-twst-rambles #★'-my-art #★'-my-writing #(💜) yuusha #(💜) jamiyuu #twst oc x canon #jamil viper #twst #twisted wonderland #—]

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 8 months

Text

Rough Day?: Dante x Male Reader

SUMMARY: Dante comes home from a job and just needs some love; which you happen to be the best--and only--supplier he goes to… however, you are too blind to notice how he feels.

BEGINNING NOTES: >Dante x Male Reader* >Unestablished relationship; >Dante is obviously flirting with you and you aren’t getting the hint--like REALLY painfully obvious and you are just oblivious.* >Fluff: Dante is a big cuddly softy--I really just needed something sweet. 🐻🧸🐻 >The reader isn’t a devil hunter but rather a secretary for the shop; handling paperwork and is on the shorter side* >Dante and you share some wine--I know nothing about wine so I just Googled what wine goes well with pizza and read about it lmfao >Although I don’t explicitly say what movie, I wrote this with the movie “xXx” in mind (2002: it's an action movie with Vin Diesel; it is not a porno even though it sounds like it lmfao)--it has a red lingerie scene. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a great movie--it’s as old as I am but it’s fucking great. One of my childhood favorites; highkey wanted Xander’s xXx neck tattoo--and still kind of do tbh lmao 🧸🐻🧸 *This is a bit self-indulgent and relates to me a bit more than normal. To be 100% honest I haven’t been in the best place and I need some soft stuff hence the male reader. It’s also why the requests are taking so damn long, I just hit writer's block and am having a downward swing again lol Sorry for the inconvenience! I should hopefully break out of this soon ;))

The sound of the garage door opening made you look up from the mound of paperwork you were currently nose-deep in. With a small smile, you stood up to go see who was visiting; however, you were quickly stopped by a tall muscular roadblock. Said roadblock slumped over and placed his forehead on your shoulder.

"Welcome home… Rough day, huh?" You lovingly placed a hand on his back, rubbing small circles into his jacket.

Dante nodded against you, “It was a complete shit show and Vergil was crabby…”

“Mmn, I’m sorry,” you grabbed his hand with your free one, squeezing it slightly, “Why don’t you go shower--I’ll order dinner and we can watch a movie.”

The red devil leaned up and gave you a soft smile, his eyes creasing at the edges, "You sure? You seem busy."

You laughed and rolled your eyes, placed a forearm on your forehead, leaning back dramatically, "Oh no-- I have to stop filling out your back taxes; what a pity…”

Dante laughed softly and pulled you close, with you still leaning backwards, “Such a shame, I know how much you love paperwork.”

Your shoulder hit his chest and he took the opportunity to nuzzle himself against your exposed throat. The feeling of his stubble scraping along your neck made you squirm in his grasp, laughing loudly, “Hey-- Stop that- that tickles, Dante-!”

“Oh? Does it now?” The red devil snuggly nuzzled the side of his jaw into you, a broad smile tugging at his features at the sound of your laughter.

“You’re---- You’re gonna get me dirty--”

“Mmn,” he stopped and you pivoted to face him, “Then you can shower with me…”

You laughed brightly and, despite your previous statement of him being grungy, you hid your face in his chest attempting to hide your flustered expression, “In your dreams, Dante.”

He wrapped his arms around you, kneading your back with his fingers, “Sometimes~”

“Perve!” You laughed harder as you shoved his shoulder playfully.

The two of you stood there for a few moments, Dante loudly purring against you, and enjoying your closeness. Nonchalantly you slid your face up to his shoulder, which he eagerly leaned down for. After a moment, you placed your face against the side of his and gently pushed against him. With a happy sigh, you ran your fingers through his hair but stopped quickly upon noticing the gore within his white strands--that was now all over your hand, “Alright, mister, go shower and we can continue this later.”

He leaned up slowly and stuck out his lower lip in a pout, giving you puppy dog eyes.

“Uh-uh, no-” you turned from him, closing your eyes, “I am not falling for that; Last time we had to get a new couch because of how dirty you were and the shop smelt like a rotten butcher shop for a week.”

“Alright, alright,” Dante smiled and cupped your cheek with one hand, slowly thumbing over your face, “I’ll be back in a jif, babe," he moved his hand to your chin, holding it with his thumb and forefinger for a moment before slowly letting go, hustling out of the kitchen.

"Hey, make sure you’re actually clean-! Damn it…” Your words fell upon deaf ears as you listened to the creak of the stairs from him jogging up them. With a wistful sigh, you smiled softly, “What a dork.”

After washing your hands with soap and bleach, you left the kitchen and went over to Dante’s desk. As per usual, you dialed up the local pizza parlor and within two rings they picked up.

“Dante!” The voice of a jolly old man echoed through the phone, “How’s my best customer?”

You laughed, “Sorry, Dante’s showering right now; it’s--”

“Ah, it’s Dante’s husband! How are you?”

A fiery feeling filled your face as you sputtered out, “Dante’s what?”

“Don’t worry, I'm fine with you being gay! Dante always struck me as a fruity guy, even back when he first started-”

You let out an awkward laugh, “We aren’t- Dante and I aren’t even dating,” You let out another laugh, however, the longing feeling from earlier returned, "Let alone married."

"Oh! Sorry, just with the way you two act…” The old man paused momentarily before clearing his throat, “Anyways, you want the usual?”

“Yes, please. Can we get that delivered?”

“Oh? Sure thing. It’ll be there in--” There was a short pause with incoherent yelling between the old man and someone else before he returned to you, “Be there in about 10 minutes, alright?”

“Yup! Thanks so much! Have a great night, Pops!”

“You too, kid, bye!”

“Bye!”

As you hung up the phone, you slumped back into the desk chair, replaying the conversation. Did he really think that Dante and you were lovers? How many others at that shop had the same idea? You bit your lip in thought. Was it that obvious that you had a crush on him?

With a groan, you leaned forward, placing your elbows on the desk and your face in your hands. Does Dante know how you feel? As you mulled over things, you lost track of time and never even heard Dante descend the stairs or realize he was right beside you.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

You flinched at the sudden noise to your right and jolted up out of the chair.

Dante was standing with a casual lean to his posture and a tilt of his head, obviously curious about your odd behavior. Your eyes widened at the shirtless devil and his half-lidded lazy smile. Currently, he was in just a pair of baggy black sweatpants… and that was it. His hands were neatly tucked into his pockets, inadvertently pulling down the waistband of well-worn clothing which gave you a tasteful peak at his strawberry print boxers. Although he was mostly dry, you could still see water dripping from his hair onto his shoulders and chest; which made your stare wander down from his eyes.

Noticing your straying eyes, Dante’s smile turned to a sultry smirk, “Like what you see, baby~?” He flexed his pecs and winked, watching your blush darken.

“Huh?! What- No- I wasn’t-- It’s just,” you shakily gestured to his chest, “You’re wet--”

“Not yet I’m not,” He winked as his tilted posture deepened.

You sputtered out gibberish as you stiffened.

Dante leaned closer and tilted his head, cupping the side of your face, “You know, you're pretty cute when you're all flustered and speechless.”

As you turned into his palm, you let out an embarrassed laugh, “Yeah right, sure Dante.”

“I’m serious,” he leaned up with a wide toothy grin, “You’re like a…” With a pause and a squint in thought, he snapped his free hand’s fingers, “A cow!”

“Hey!” You leaned away from his hand, placing your hands on your hips, “Rude.”

“Eh?” Dante stuck a lip out in confusion, “What? You don’t find ‘em cute or somethin’?”

“Dante… When you call someone a “cow” you’re calling them fat and ugly.”

His eyes widened, “Since when?”

You shook your head and sighed, “That insult has been around for literal centuries.”

Panicked that he may have upset you, he stumbled over his words as he tried to fix his words, “I didn’t mean for it to be insulting! Cows are my favorite animal and-”

"Oh trust me, cowboy, I know they are," you shook your head with a laugh and broke eye contact with him.

Suddenly, you felt a large set of arms around you and your head was against a warm chest. Dante set his head atop yours and mumbled, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you; I just think you’re really cute and I couldn’t think of anything I find cuter than a cow. I--”

“Dante,” you sighed and pushed against him lovingly with your head, resting your cheek against him, “You don’t have to apologize.”

As you layed upon him, enjoying the brief and rare moment of peace, you found yourself relaxing into his hold. The smell of his body wash-- the low consistent beating of his heart-- the warm heat his body gave off-- all wrapped up into a large affectionate package. A package that you could only dream about allowing you to stay this close for the rest of your days.

To be able to place your sleeve rather than your cheek. To tell him exactly what you have been yearning for many years.

But those are childish thoughts and nothing more than a dream. Someday, Dante will find a wife and leave this godforsaken business and live a happy life; all while you watch from the side and cheer him on from a distance.

His arms tightened around you and he began to purr lightly, “When we retire, we should buy a farm.”

You raised a brow, “What, you still need me with you to do your taxes or something?”

As he laughed, you felt his chest reverberate with each noise, “I need you for a lot more than that, babe.”

“Mhm, sure you do,” you sighed and turned your head, placing your forehead against his chest.

Before Dante could respond, a loud knock came from the front door. Excitedly, he let go of you and smiled widely, “I’ll get it.”

As he took care of the payment for the pizza, you wandered into the kitchen to grab plates. A small sigh left your lips as you looked at the empty place where the paper plates go, knowing the replacements are on the top shelf--a shitty result of having a behemoth of a housemate. With pursed lips, you stood on your tip toes and tried to stretch up to reach the desired item.

Just as you were about to go get a chair to stand on, you felt a set of large hands grab your waist and pick you up. A surprised squeak left your lips and you whipped your head around to see a smiling Dante. You rolled your eyes and grabbed the plates. Carefully, Dante placed you back on the ground and backed up a bit.

“Thanks,” you smiled at him and grabbed a plate, handed it to him, then grabbed one for yourself.

After Dante placed two full glasses of Malbec on the table, you sat in adjacent corner chairs--facing at an angle to see one another. There was a comfortable silence between you as you ate; well, save for the quiet happy humming that came from Dante as he ate. As you watched him, you smiled warmly. It’s times like these that make you forget how dangerous Dante actually is. How he could rip you limb to limb if he felt so inclined. With a shake of your head, you returned to eating, shoving those frightening thoughts down.

After some time, Dante leaned towards you and placed an elbow on the table, “So you never did tell me why you were sitting for like ten minutes with that weird expression after you ordered.”

“Oh! It’s nothin’.”

“Mmhmm,” Dante smiled as he took another bite of food, “Okay, let me rephrase that:” He gestured mindlessly with his hand, “I overheard your half of the call from upstairs and was wondering what Pops said to you that got you so worked up.”

“Nothin’ important-!” Your answer was very abrupt as your face began to heat up again, which Dante noticed.

“Come on~ It had to be something; I can ask Pops if you--”

“No! Don’t, please,” you pursed your lips and avoided his eyes.

His brow furrowed, “He didn’t say anything bad to you, did he?”

“What? No! That man couldn’t say an evil thing if you held him at gunpoint.”

“Then what?”

“Just…” You paused with a shake of your head before sheepishly mumbling, “He called me your husband.”

Dante finished chewing and placed his slice down, “Really?”

With a nod and a drink, you nodded, “Yup…”

His voice took a more serious tone as he looked you in the eyes, “Does that… bother you?”

You shook your head ��no’, avoiding his eyes, “Was unexpected is all…”

The red devil laughed and went to grab his drink, but missed the glass and knocked it over.

“Dante-!” You shot up from your seat and looked down at yourself. The glass thankfully hadn’t smashed and was still on the tabletop; however, the red wine had been spilled all over your shirt and pants, soaking straight through everything you had on.

“Shit, sorry!” Dante stood up as well and attempted to dry you off with some napkins he grabbed from the table, continuing to apologize.

You instantly became flustered as you realized what Dante was doing and where his hands were, “That’s not helping--” You caught eyes with him and he noticed your expression.

“Well,” he stood back up, placing a hand on his hip, “I could just use my tou--”

“I’m going to shower!” You cut him off and scuttled out of the room, ignoring the growing fluttery feeling in your chest, and didn't hear Dante’s dejected sigh.

As you were bathing, Dante cleaned up the kitchen. He put the half-eaten pizza in the fridge and then saw your wine glass was still half-full. With a casual shrug, he finished it off and placed the two glasses in the sink. Slowly, he meandered out into the living room to set up the TV when he got an idea.

Your shower was rather quick, being in and out of the bathroom within less than five minutes. With a small hum, you dried off, got dressed in some clean wine-free clothing, and left the room. Only to run straight into a certain white-haired man’s chest, making you jump with a startled shout.

“Wha-!” You stared at him for a moment before raising a brow at him, “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you,” the look he gave you was reminiscent of a happy puppy, making you mindlessly reach up to pat the top of his head.

Dante leaned down and placed his head on your shoulder, purring softly from your touch. His hands wrapped around your back, finding purchase on the small of your back, and he took a deep slow inhale. Although he’d never say it out loud, he found your scent to be rather comforting and relaxing. The two of you stood there for a moment before he leaned back.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh no,” you stared at him, “What did you do?”

With a lip stuck out with a disingenuous frown, “Why do you assume it’s a bad thing?”

“Dante,” you slid your hands down his arms and rested on his biceps, “Last time you said you “I have a surprise” I came home to the shop doors through the stairs and a tarp for a front door…”

He laughed and buried his face in your neck, taking on a playfully sarcastic tone, “That was fun~! It made the shop nice and drafty.”

“Maybe for you Mister hot-blooded but it was for like a month in the dead of winter. I froze my ass off--”

Dante grabbed your ass harshly, “Nope, it’s still there.”

You shoved him playfully and rolled your eyes.

He leaned back up, “Now, can I show you the surprise?”

With a nod, you sighed happily, “Alright, what-- Hey!”

Instantly your feet were off the ground and he was holding you from underneath your legs; you then wrapped yourself around him, fearing he’d drop you. A large smile adorned his face as he walked down to his room, opened the door, and tossed you onto the nearby bed. He turned to shut the door and when he looked back at you, he saw that your eyes were wide and heard how fast your heart was beating; which caused his smile to take a more sultry turn.

Dante gestured towards the foot of the bed, where he had moved his bedside table and placed the TV on top of, “Figure it’s a little more comfortable than the couch.”

“G-gotcha,” you shook your head and smiled, laying on your stomach to face the screen.

He moved towards the mattress then jumped onto it, laying right beside you, “Don’t worry, I picked out a great movie--”

“If we are watching the same fucking movie-- I swear to god--”

“But it’s so good!”

“I think I know every goddamned word by now.”

Dante looked at you with his bottom lip stuck out, giving you his infamous puppy eyes.

“No-- nu-uh--” You looked away from him and took a long deep breath, “Dante-- For fucks sake--”

Dante whimpered softly, making you turn back to him, and found yourself met with the red devil’s bright turquoise eyes and his brow upturned into a pout. With a wistful sigh, you shook your head and laughed, “I hate when you give me those eyes-- Fine, we can watch your movie.”

He flashed you a wide toothy grin and reached out to grab the remote from the table, turning on the flick.

Bit by bit, Dante slid to lay right beside you, his body tightly tucked against yours. Slowly, he leaned his head onto your shoulder, growing sleepier with each passing minute. However, he managed to stay awake and watch the movie.

Around an hour in, a scene came on that showed various women in scarcely any clothing; ending in a climactic scene where the main lead climbs into bed with a woman dressed in red lingerie.

Dante rolled onto his side, looking at you with half-lidded eyes as he spoke in a low sultry voice, “I should buy you a set like that, bet you’d look hot.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes went wide, “H-huh?!”

He placed a hand on your bicep and slowly began to rub his thumb against you, “I mean, I know that the bra might be a little much; but the panties would be worth it at the very least.”

“Dante---- Dante,” you turned to him, your face burning, “Why on Earth would you want me in that?”

“You’d look hot; what other reason would I need?” He flashed you a warm suggestive smirk.

“I mean,” you looked away with a small huff, mumbling, “Wouldn’t you want someone you’re dating wearing it?”

Dante’s smile faded as he removed his hand, “What?”

You continued to mumble, refusing to look back at him, “You know like someone you’re attracted to..?”

The red devil blankly stared at you for a moment before he grabbed the remote and hit the stop button several times before dropping it somewhere onto the floor, then slid off the foot of the bed.

Your eyes slowly turned to face him, “Dante..?”

He pushed the ‘off’ button on the TV and turned back to face you, "Look," his voice was quiet and he looked defeated, unable to look you in the eyes, as he took a few steps closer to stand in front of you, "I know our dates aren't anything fancy or- or high quality but--"

“What-?” You swung your legs around to sit at the edge of the bed, “Our-- huh?”

His expression changed from a kicked puppy to a blank dumbfounded stare as his eyes met with your gaze, “Our dates.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head, “What are you talkin’ about Dante..?”

“Our dates--” He leaned down to look you dead in the eyes, bracing himself with his hands on either side of you against the bed, “You feelin’ alright?”

“We aren’t--”

“We’ve been going out for almost a year,” he pursed his lips, “I asked you out like a month after comin’ home…”

With a confused tilt of your head, you furrowed your brow, “I don’t remember.”

“After Verge and I returned home, I didn’t want to…” He shrugged one shoulder with a small half-hearted laugh, “To miss out on my chance with you, so I asked you out. We went to the zoo, remember?”

With a slightly furrowed brow, you did your best to try and remember that day. Dante was nearly welded to you during that outing; between holding your hand or having an arm snugly wrapped around your waist, he was very overly physical with you. Until now, you’d just brushed it off, thinking that Dante was just sick of being so touch-starved and you gladly gave him what he wanted.

Admittedly, it was a two-way street, you wanted to be just as close to him as he was providing. From small things like morning hugs or more intense things like him placing a kiss on your forehead every once in a while, it was such an unexpected but welcomed experience. However, without him outright stating things, you didn’t think he meant anything of it; refusing to believe someone like him would be with someone like you.

You laughed, catching Dante off guard, and placed the top of your head against his chest, “I didn’t realize you meant a literal “date”.” A blush spread across your face as you stared at the floor, taking a quieter meeker tone, “I wish I had known that you-- that we were…”

“Does it bother you? I mean if you don’t feel that way, I won’t force you to--”

“Dante…” You closed your eyes with a shy laugh, your voice growing quieter and quieter with each word, “I just wished that I’d known the guy I’ve been into for years has the same feelings back… That’s all.”

He paused for a moment, listening to the quickening pacing of your heart, before softly setting his hands on your shoulders causing you to look back at him. Although Dante’s gaze is always softer when it comes to you; right now, his stare seems even gentler than normal. His brow was relaxed and he had a lazy smile tugging at his lips with a very faint purr emanating from his throat. Bit by bit, the two of you moved closer and shared a tender innocent kiss.

When he and you pulled apart, a smile tugged at Dante’s face at your flustered appearance, “You know,” he laughed, placing his forehead on your shoulder, “I just thought you were taking things at a snail's pace, babe.”

“I- I didn’t know- I would’ve-” You shook your head, unable to come up with a cohesive sentence.

Using your flustered mindset to his advantage, Dante moved to sit on and straddle your lap. With wide eyes, you stared up at the smiling man. Cautiously, you ran a hand up his middle, making note of his skin felt underneath your fingertips. Even though you’d briefly touched his torso before, this was an entirely different ballpark. Your hand made its way to his neck and you very gently thumbed over his throat.

Once your hand was on the side of his face, you felt a sudden nervous feeling begin to spread throughout your limbs; you’d wanted to kiss him again but found yourself hesitant to ask. Thankfully, Dante was far from reluctant.

The red devil leaned down and kissed you again, your hand still cupping the side of his face. These kisses were longer and more impassioned. Your hands clasped around the back of his neck, as he grabbed your waist allowing him to lean you backwards. A smile tugged at his lips as he began to bite at your lower lip, taking great care not to puncture your kiss-swollen flesh. Then he made his way down your jaw and to your neck, relishing in your uneven heavy breaths.

As he nipped at your neck, you slid a hand into his hair and grabbed the back of his head as you arched your back. Dante took this as an okay to bite a little harder, leaving a loving mark. When he was done, he set his forehead on the front side of your shoulder, laughing softly.

“What’s up?” You raised a brow at his odd reaction.

Dante’s voice was quiet, “I just really love you, so damned much.”

A very small droplet of water hit your chest as you realized why he didn’t return to your gaze.

“I love you too Dante,” You wrapped yourself around him, tightly squeezing him, “I have for a long time.”

He copied your action, wrapping himself around you. Another laugh left his lips as he sniffled, placing his head beside yours. As you layed intertwined, you both began to drift off to sleep; staying interwoven until morning, a feeling you’d both yearned to experience for much too long.

ENDING NOTES: Cows are really cute and if you disagree, you’re wrong lmao. If you’ve ever pet a calf you’ll know they are just so cute and ugHHH (I was raised on a farm, we didn’t have cows but I did get to see them a lot because of family-related stuff; so I am biased over farm animals a bit. Plus it fits Dante’s DMC 4 cowboy vibe lmao) 🐻🧸🐻 Was gonna make this a smut fic. but I just wasn’t vibing with it so it kind of ends abruptly, sorry lol

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

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#devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #dmc #dante #dante devil may cry #devil may cry dante #dante x reader #dante x male reader #x reader #x male reader #oneshot #fluff #sorry this is a little rusty #been in a funk lately so I'm trying lmao #This has been in my drafts since like the beginning of August #and I was originally trying to have this done for my birthday on Aug 27th #but that obviously didn't work out lmaoo

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