#this one is hotter and more on my level at least

[allroseshave-their-pricks]

good news - I am no longer Dying over my informal dance partner

bad news - I am now dying about an aerospace engineering grad student I met at a conference who lives SIXTEEN HOURS AWAY FROM ME

[revasserium]

death before decaf

opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms

summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.

a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.

one.

“How long did you say?”

“Two weeks, max.”

“Nah… you think?”

“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”

Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.

“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”

Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”

Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.

“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.

“Can I get a decaf latte with —”

“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.

You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.

Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.

“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.

“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”

Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.

“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”

Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”

Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.

“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.

You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.

“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”

Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.

You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.

“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”

“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”

“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”

“Princess.”

“Edgelord.”

You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.

“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.

Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.

“I’m gonna be late for practice.”

You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.

Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.

“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.

“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”

“Alright then, you’re on.”

Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”

two.

You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.

“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”

Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”

You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”

“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.

You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”

Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.

“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.

“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”

“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”

You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”

Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.

“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”

You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.

You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.

But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.

“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.

“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”

At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.

“Have I ever denied that I was?”

You let out a noncommittal grunt.

Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.

“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.

You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.

“So what?”

“Tell me about him.”

You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“

“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.

“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.

“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.

“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”

Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”

Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.

“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”

Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”

Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.

“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”

“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”

You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”

Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.

“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”

You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.

“Wait — what?”

Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.

“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”

You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.

“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.

“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”

Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“

“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”

You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.

“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.

“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.

“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.

When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.

“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”

She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.

“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.

“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.

Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.

three.

You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.

“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”

You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.

“N-no.”

“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.

You narrow your eyes.

“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.

You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.

Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.

Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.

You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting —

Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.

You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —

What happened to your arm?

You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.

The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.

“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.

Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.

“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.

“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”

And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.

You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.

four.

Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.

“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.

“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.

You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.

Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.

You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.

Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.

“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”

Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.

“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.

Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”

You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.

“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”

“Fuck — okay.”

You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.

Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.

“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”

“And it’s now Tuesday.”

Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.

“It’s been five days!”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”

You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.

“Ow.”

You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.

“You strained your Rhomboid.”

“Gesundheit.”

You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.

“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.

Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.

You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.

“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.

He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.

“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.

Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.

“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”

And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.

five.

Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.

“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”

You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.

On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.

And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.

Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.

And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.

“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”

You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.

You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.

When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.

You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.

When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.

You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.

You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.

Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”

You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.

Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.

“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.

Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.

“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.

Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.

“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.

You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.

“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”

Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.

“Still counts.”

You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.

He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”

Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.

“I always like my —”

They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.

“I — it — wh —”

Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”

You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.

six.

Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.

“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.

You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”

At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”

You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”

Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”

You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”

Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”

You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”

“So?” she asks.

“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.

“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”

You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.

“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.

“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.

“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.

You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.

You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.

“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”

You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.

“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.

“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”

“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.

“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.

You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.

“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”

Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”

You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.

seven.

Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.

You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.

“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.

You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.

But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.

You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.

When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.

He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.

You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.

“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.

Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.

“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”

You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”

He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.

You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.

“I —”

Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.

“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”

Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —

“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”

Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.

You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.

“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”

Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”

You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.

He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.

You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.

“What —”

“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.

“Yeah, well —”

“Wait — no —”

Zoro cocks his head, “No?”

You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.

“We — your shoulder —”

“Fuck my shoulder —”

You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”

You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.

“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.

You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.

“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.

“Mine. It’s closer.”

eight.

His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.

It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.

You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.

“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.

You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”

Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.

“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.

Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.

“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”

Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.

“I still won.”

His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.

Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.

“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.

“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”

Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”

And then, a long moment later —

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”

You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.

There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.

“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”

You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”

Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”

You make no move to leave.

“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.

You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”

He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”

“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”

“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”

You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”

At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”

“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.

You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.

“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.

Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.

“What about breakfast?”

“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”

You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.

“I…. guess.”

Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.

You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.

You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.

“God, you’re gorgeous…”

Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.

“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”

“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.

You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.

“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.

You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.

nine.

Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.

You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.

“Oh… hey.”

Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.

He clears his throat.

“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”

You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.

“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”

Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”

He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.

“So… breakfast and coffee?”

Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”

You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.

“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.

You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.

When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.

But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.

“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”

Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.

“Whoa… so much better.”

You smile, satisfied.

Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”

He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.

“You’ll freeze.”

Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”

You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.

“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”

Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”

Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.

“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.

“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.

You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.

Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.

ten.

There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.

You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.

When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.

“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”

Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.

“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.

“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.

You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”

Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.

“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”

Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.

Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.

Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.

“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”

You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.

You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.

He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.

It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.

“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.

Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”

You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.

“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.

Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”

You scoff, “Says who?”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”

You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.

“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”

You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.

“Kay, whatever you say.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.

Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.

“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”

Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.

“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.

“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”

Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.

She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”

Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.

“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.

“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”

You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.

Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”

Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”

feedback always welcome :) reqs are closed.

[brokenmenswhore]

HI I luv ur writing 🫶🏻 I have a request for jace x fem dragonrider reader. And I just rlly wanna read abt a dragonrider reader whose hella impulsive and fiery. I was thinking abt the scene where baela was scouting and she chased cole, but with reader. And reader was also close with Lucerys so his death just fuels her rage and desire for revenge. So she just goes ahead and burns them despite being told not to engage. But ofc reader gets reprimaded at the council but then explodes abt not regretting what she did becos it was for Luc 🥺.

Feel free to add more angst, fluff, etc. hehe i would just like to read more abt jace x dragonrider reader (who isnt afraid to use her dragon and is basically another fem daemon🤣)

THANK YOU FOR EVER CONSIDERING THIS💕

writing a daemon-level female is my favorite thing on this planet ok

cautious / careless | jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

warnings: language, this isn’t as much jace x reader as it is just the reader fuckin around

────── ☾ ──────

“Okay, so naturally I’m the best choice.”

The men of the council, along with Rhaenyra, all sighed in unison. The True Queen had suggested a dragonrider to fly near King’s Landing and scout the area, and you immediately suggested yourself. The argument had lasted a total of ten minutes so far.

“Moondancer is a much more discreet flyer-“

“I really don’t care about being discreet, and neither should any of you. If you want to know what the Green Army is up to, send me. You know I’m the most capable here. My dragon is quick, as am I. I’m going.”

“It is not safe,” Jacaerys said from his position standing beside you, his voice low as if he was trying to calm you down and bargain with you.

“I appreciate your concern, truly,” you responded, turning to address the council again, “but I’m going. Do any of the men on this council dare to contest? You may do so on dragonback, if you say yes.”

The council looked around at one another, and no one said a word. You smiled triumphantly.

When the meeting ended, you began to exit the room, Jacaerys hot on your heels.

“You know this is not safe,” he spoke, catching up to your side, “what are you thinking?”

You stopped in your tracks. “I will not engage, as I told your mother. What could possibly be the harm? Besides, any harm they try to inflict upon me will only in turn befall them.“

“You are too angry over Lucerys to do this,” Jacaerys said, fighting to stay in your eye line as you threw your head backward in frustration and annoyance.

“And you are not?”

Jacaerys had also suggested himself to go, but did not contest for a second when his mother said no.

“I am more level-headed than you.”

“And that is perhaps your least fun trait,” you responded, standing your ground.

“Will you please just promise you will be cautious?” he pleaded, taking your hands in his.

You rested your forehead against his, taking a deep breath. “Only because you wish it so.”

Jacaerys smiled, tilting his head upward to give you a soft kiss. He remained with you until he saw you off, watching your dragon take flight as you disappeared into the horizon.

You paid intent attention to movements beneath the treetops for the better part of three hours, scanning every inch of ground you could see. Finally, you spotted the shine of silver armor in the distance.

You smiled to yourself and flew even closer to the ground, swirling around the group of men as a warning. Upon closer inspection, you saw Aegon’s Hand, and Lord Commander of The King’s Guard, Ser Criston Cole. Seeing such a prominent face from The Greens alongside an army of men fighting to keep Aegon on the throne, despite everything it had already cost, set something ablaze within you.

Do not engage. The words from your queen rang in your ears, but you could not help it. Jacaerys was right, you were angry, and you were impulsive. Every Targaryen was made of fire, but yours tended to burn hotter than most.

“Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself, commanding your dragon to fly even closer to the ground, nearly knocking some of the men over from the wind gust of her wings.

“Dracarys!” you shouted, watching as your dragon opened her mouth, fueling before spitting fire across the entire field, drowning your enemies in flames.

You watched the men fall, scream, run in terror, and all eventually give up as you commanded your dragon to retreat, flying back to Dragonstone. You had done your part, and you were happy with it.

You decided halfway along your journey home to stay in the sky, enjoying the warm air of the breeze that hit your face. Your dragon enjoyed herself, flying in circular dives and grazing her wing against any large enough open body of water. You did not want to return before the news reached Rhaenyra. You wanted her to know, and you wanted to let it marinate before she saw you again. She needed time to calm down.

Come nightfall, you had reached Dragonstone. The moment you dismounted your dragon’s saddle, Jacaerys stomped toward you.

“Gods, what were you thinking? You promised me you would be cautious,” he bellowed.

“I was cautious,” you replied nonchalantly.

“You were careless,” he spoke, matter-of-factly.

“Ouch, Jace,” you responded, beginning to walk, “I was not careless. I was rather deliberate, I dare say.”

“Why would you do such a thing when my mother specifically asked you not to?”

You sighed. “She is not my mother.”

“She is your queen.”

“The only person in this realm who’s desires and opinions matter to me, is you. Now, are you truly mad at me, or is this an extension of your mother?”

Jacaerys took a deep breath. “I was worried. I just cannot understand why you would endanger yourself, why you would do against your queen’s wishes, why you would-“

“They murdered Luc, Jace.”

You exchanged a glance, understanding emanating from one another’s eyes. Though Lucerys was not related to you by blood, you still felt the sharp dagger of pain that followed his death, and your heart ached for his brother, who was handling it better, but perhaps in even more pain than you.

A tear escaped onto Jacaerys’s cheek. “The doubt that the one responsible would ride horseback with an army of men fighting for his brother’s claim.”

“Aemond is lucky for his absence. I would have done much worse had he been present.”

Jacaerys sighed. “You know you must face my mother at some point.”

“She does not scare me,” you responded, holding Jacaerys’s hand as you entered the castle.

A member of Rhaenyra’s guard approached you as soon as you entered a corridor. “The Queen requests your presence in the council room, My Lady.”

You smiled. “I would expect nothing less.”

When you entered the council room, you saw that Rhaenyra called the council to convene, but no one was seated or professional. Everyone was scattered around the room in whispers.

Rhaenyra turned toward the sound of the grand door swinging shut behind your confident frame.

“What were you thinking?” she spat.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I was thinking that Criston Cole would look better burnt to a crisp. Hotter, at least,” you jested, and Jacaerys snickered behind you. His mother’s features remained stoic.

“You had no right. You were under my orders to remain high and to not engage. What would persuade you to so blatantly disobey your queen?”

You sat down in one of the chairs, propping your feet up on the table. “Do you mean to speak that they did not deserve it?”

The men in the room turned their attention to Rhaenyra, who was taken aback by your question.

“There is a method in which we must handle these things,” she spoke, trying to breathe through her words and keep calm, “I understand that you clearly do not understand strategy, or politics, but you cannot simply go around on your dragon and do whatever it is that you wish. Do you hold no retrospective contempt toward your actions? No regret?”

“Regret?” you spat, slamming your feet down on the floor and standing so abruptly that the chair scraped backward against the floor.

“No, Your Grace, I do not regret my actions. Those fucking cunts are responsible for the death of your son. Your son. Or have you forgotten? I merely did what should have been done the moment Vhagar shut her jaw. What I did was for you. What I did was for Jacaerys. Most importantly, what I did was for Lucerys. It was about fucking time that someone did something! So no, I do not regret my actions.”

You huffed, nearly losing your breath from your intense rant. You calmed down and sat back in the chair, nostrils flaring as you glared at Rhaenyra.

“I understand your frustrations, believe me,” she spoke, “but you cannot just do as you wish, not when you act as an extension of my cause. Do you understand?”

“I am not an extension of your cause, Your Grace, I am my own cause,” you spoke, beginning to leave the room. When you reached the door, you pivoted, turning back to her. “I apologize that this has caused you strife. But I do not apologize for what I did. I simply gave them a peek of what is to come.”

You left the room, and you could hear Jacaerys running to catch up to you.

“What is it, Jace?” you sighed, turning around to watch his final few steps as he finally reached you.

Jace stilled himself. “Thank you.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “For?”

“For sticking up for myself and my brother when even I cannot.”

You smiled, finally calming down and pulling Jacaerys into a hug. When he pulled away, it was only to hold your face in his hands and kiss you, his favorite way of thanking you.

“If you like it when I burn people for you, I have an entire list of worthy individuals.”

Jacaerys giggled. “I don’t want to picture burning men when I’m kissing you.”

You shrugged. “Sorry, too late.”

Jacaerys made a jokingly disgusted noise as he intertwined his fingers with your own, accompanying you on your exit.

[saphronethaleph]

Legally Mandated Vacation Days

The holoprojector in Palpatine’s private quarters activated, an image shimmering to life, and Palpatine smiled in anticipation of seeing Vader kneeling before him.

That lasted approximately half a second, until he saw the actual image.

“Your Majesty!” an extremely nervous Imperial Navy lieutenant said, saluting. “It’s an honour to-”

“Where is Vader?” Palpatine asked. “This is his personal hologram frequency!”

“Ah… Lord Vader assigned me to take his calls while he was away,” the lieutenant explained. “It’s, ah… an honour to be speaking to you… do you have a message?”

“Away?” Palpatine repeated. “Why is Vader away?”

“I don’t know!” the lieutenant protested. “Your Majesty, I don’t know anything more than what I’ve told you – he just told me to take his calls and said he was using up some annual leave, since he hadn’t taken any since the year one.”

It took Palpatine a fraction of a second to actually calculate what that meant, because replacing the calendar when he came to unquestioned power had been what the youth called ‘a flex’ but it had also caused significant calendrical chaos and he personally still thought in the old system at least half the time.

Eleven years, then. Vader had eleven years of stored up annual leave, and he was choosing to expend some.

“Where did he go?” Palpatine asked.

“I didn’t ask!” the lieutenant replied. “Your Majesty, I didn’t want to die, and also I don’t think I’m allowed to ask anyway…”

Palpatine glowered at the hologram, then untensed.

Marginally.

“Inform Vader that I want to speak to him as soon as possible,” he said, then ended the call before the lieutenant could start fawning again.

“Uncle Owen!” Luke called, running down the steps of the homestead. “Aunt Beru! Someone’s coming!”

“We’d better see what this is about, then,” Owen Lars decided. “Did you recognize them?”

The pre-teen looked thoughtful.

“Don’t think so,” he said. “Whoever it was, they were wearing black. Not sure why.”

“Black robes are just as cool as white,” Beru commented. “I know black gets hotter, but it doesn’t reach the skin.”

Luke frowned.

“It might have been robes,” he said. “Don’t know.”

“Well, let’s see who it is,” Owen decided.

Beru’s gaze darted to where one of their blasters was hidden, as Owen headed up the stairs.

“Oh kriff,” Owen said, in a tiny voice.

Then a black shape, like death, came down the stairs.

The figure in the armoured suit and cloak wasn’t really forcing Owen to retreat, not really.

Not through any physical means, or otherwise.

He was just… walking, and Owen was responding in an instinctive sort of way to get out of the way of Darth Vader, the Emperor’s Enforcer, the sign of death across the whole of the known galaxy.

Upon reaching floor level, Vader examined Beru, then Luke, then the room around them.

“So,” Darth Vader said, in a dread but awkward voice. “How have you been doing?”

It took all those present several seconds to find their voices.

“...what?” Owen asked, eventually.

“I know it has been a while,” Vader went on, then stopped. “…ah, of course. It is unsurprising you fail to recognize me. I… was not wearing this, before.”

“Then who are you?” Beru asked. “You’re acting like you know us, but… you’re Darth Vader.”

“Yes,” Vader agreed. “I… have had a complicated last few months. I ran into someone from my past. We fought. I was seriously injured, and it gave me reason to consider what I have made of my life. About the relatives that I have failed to visit.”

Owen and Beru exchanged glances, then both looked at Luke.

“Are you really Darth Vader?” Luke said, sounding fascinated. “Everyone says you’re really scary, but you’re in our kitchen and I don’t know if that means you’re scary.”

“I am extremely scary,” Vader replied, in tones of either great seriousness or impressive deadpan. “I have killed people for annoying me. I have killed people who did not have the time to annoy me.”

“Did you cut their heads off?” Luke asked, in that way that children can. “I’ve never seen that happen but it sounds like it’d be really messy. There’s two bits of person then.”

Vader made a sound that, charitably, could be interpreted as chuckling.

“It appears I have been remiss in not talking about my work to my step-brother’s child,” he said. “I approve of you, child.”

“Step-brother’s child…” Owen said, then his eyes went wide. “You’re – you’re Anakin!?”

Vader tilted his head slightly. “Who else would I be?”

“I’ve got relatives,” Beru pointed out. “I wouldn’t have thought any of them was Darth Vader, but… we thought Anakin was dead.”

Vader appeared to think about that.

“I can see why you would think that,” he admitted.

“Does that mean you’re my dad?” Luke asked.

Vader did a double take.

“What,” he said.

For a moment, simmering anger filled the room, then it faded away.

“I suppose if you thought that I was dead, then taking in my child would be reasonable,” he conceded. “As my only surviving relatives of any sort.”

“I’ll get some water for us to share?” Beru suggested, falling back on basic hospitality. And on a way to get out of the sight of the others for a minute.

She was going to need to comm Ben Kenobi to stay the absolute kriff away from the homestead for now.

It was at least possible that Vader – Anakin – whichever would be more interested in his very much alive and present son he was reconnecting with than a mention of an absent Kenobi somewhere else on the planet who made Luke toys.

Kenobi here? The fight would destroy the homestead, and that would make it considerably more difficult to keep Luke safe… even with how the difficulty of that had jumped significantly in the last ten minutes.

[corruptedcaps]

Brat App

Ugh why did Mom have to marry the Dad of that bitch Alison?! As if being bullied at school isn’t enough now I have to get it at home too? I guess it’s not all bad though because I was able to hack into Alison’s phone and invite myself onto the exclusive ‘Brat App’ that Alison and her friends are all on. No idea what it is but with any luck I’ll find out some dirt on Alison to get her finally expelled so I can have some peace.

Hmmm this just looks to be some sort of social status game with challenges built on top. Every challenge has a ‘Brat’ value associated with it. So the more challenges a person does the higher up the leaderboard they climb and the higher up the rank. No big shock that Alison is sitting at the top as a level 10! Which gives her the rank of ‘Brat Queen’ which appropriate. By my calculations that would be…. nearly 10,000 points! Wow she must be addicted to this game. Looks like I got 1,000 bonus just for signing up and I can spend it on my little avatar of myself. Let’s see what I can buy. Sure why not, let’s improve her eyesight.…

Holy crap what just happened? My body feels all tingly and different. My glasses are making my eyes blurry. Did… did this app just cure my eyesight? This is unbelievable! What else can it do… more athletic, long nails, thick hair, big boobs, perfect posture. It makes sense now! All these challenges are real life challenges! This is how Alison is the hottest most feared girl in school! Ok new plan, if I raise the ranks of this app, and surpass Alison’s score then she’ll have to listen to me and become nicer. How hard could it be? I’m already at level one after all and these challenges don’t seem that difficult….

Bold makeup. Check. Revealing dress. Check. And that’s net me… let’s see here. 50 points? At this rate I’ll finish college before I have enough points! I need more bigger ticket items. Let me redeem these pathetic points at least. Mmmm nothing changed but it did give me a nice little tingle. Ok for 1000 points I need to… send some nudes?! Absolutely not! Alison hasn’t even done that! For another 1000 I need to suck a married cock? How vile! Ok this is more doable. Spread a vicious rumor about a classmate for 300. I could do that I guess. Hmmm I have to post it directly to the app so it can’t be about Alison or any of her friends. I know, I’ll say something about Lisa the unfortunate overweight girl in our class. She’ll never see it. I’ll say she was banned from Dairy Queen for breaking in and eating their whole stock. And send! Ohhhh somethings happening!

Oh god my tits! They’ve gone up like two sizes! But why? Hmmm looks like I hit some hidden ‘Bitch Bonus’ by doing that challenge. This is amazing and all I had to do was make fun of that whale Lisa. I know it was mean but it feels so fucking good! She’ll be fine it’s not like anyone will believe it anyway. <ding> ohhh that felt nice, what was it? Oh one of Alison’s friends liked my post. <ding> mmmm another one of her friends liked my post! Every like is 10 points and feels so gooood! <ding> oh fuck yesss girls keep liking! It feels so hawt! Maybe I should spread a few more lies…

Mmmm my body feels so much better in these clothes I redeemed! After only a few more rumors I got easily up to level 5, ‘Beta Bitch’, which unlocked my beautiful nails, my gorgeous silky hair, my perfect makeup, and all the knowledge to maintain them. Even my body is better shape, I’m so flexible now! Not to say anything about my lovely big tits! Alison’s friends seemed to really enjoy my wicked little rumours. I can’t deny it wasn’t fun writing them and it was even better getting the likes for them!

But I do feel kind of bad for all those losers I wrote stuff about though, I think the Brat App is effecting not just my body but my mind too. I feel so nasty and mean everytime I use it and even more now in this tight blouse and short skirt. I can’t help if I’m hotter than those dorks now! No that’s the app’s influence talking! I have to stop using the app, but I need to topple Alison! Ugh what do I do? <ding> what’s this? I’ve unlocked a new bonus. ‘Morality Suppression’? Hmmm that would solve my problems I guess and there is an option to turn it off later. Ok I’m going to do it! It’s for the good of the school after all. Here goes…

Ohhhhh fuck yesss that sooo much better. Like hell this is for the good of the school this is for the good of me! I feel so fucking free now. To think I was feeling regret for those pathetic fattys and geeky nerds I was writing about! I only regret not writing more! The only people worth anything are my bratty followers who like my posts and even they need to know their place and they will when I surpass Alison and become the new Queen bee. Oh fuck I feel so horny being this bad! I need some release and quick! Mmmm maybe I can finally tick off some of these challenges old me was too much of a loser to attempt. Mmmm yesss those will raise my rank in no time! Oh I have the perfectly wicked idea that will make me a bratty goddess by the end of the day! Oh step daddy!

Changed? Nonsense step daddy I’ve always looked like this. I’m a spoilt wicked little bitch just like your precious daughter, only you can fuck me. What’s the matter step daddy? Cat got your tongue? I bet you always wanted to fuck your mean little princess didn’t you? But you’re a good man and would never do that would you? But guess what? I’m not your daughter but I’m everything she is and more. Would you like a look under my shirt? Sure you would.

Hehe I see you like it step daddy. The outline of your cock is practically bursting out of your pants. Mmm and it looks so impressive. Let me have a peek <zip> oh step daddy, I can see why mommy married you. You’re so big! It’s making my mouth water. I need to have it step daddy, please say yes! I know you’re still hesitant so maybe it might convince you if I stopped calling you step daddy and instead called you… daddy. Mmm you like that don’t you… daddy? You want to put that big cock in my mouth and have my perfect pink lips suck it don’t you… daddy?

Mmmm thanks daddy for the great fucking, you’ve helped me complete so many nasty challenges. Suck a married cock. Check. Fuck an older man. Check. Call him daddy. Mmmm double check. After everything we got up to I completed over a dozen challenges, more than enough to take you bitch of a daughter’s crown. I just have to redeem the points now and assume the throne…. Mmmm it feels so good but something different is happening… oh fuck something amazing is happening!

Mmmm oh fuck yessss! Look at me, I’m a blonde busty bitch now! Im older and sexier and I feel so fucking nasty and hawt but how is this possible? Oh I see I unlocked a new challenge tree and a new rank. Mmmm ‘Homewrecker’ I love the sound of that! Who needs to be a bratty queen when I could be the wicked bitch that stole her daddy instead. Thats right darling, I’ve levelled up to being your mistress now and if you’re lucky and do as I say soon I’ll unlock ‘Trophy Wife’ and you can spoil me rotten as you should. Don’t worry I’ll still call you daddy, it makes everything feel so much more naughty. My mother? You mean that old crone Emma? She’s not my mother anymore, she not even my rival, she’s just an obstacle to our love, isn’t that right? Mmmm I knew you’d agree…. Daddy.

EPILOGUE

Alison was wondering what her father was doing that was taking so god damn long that he couldn’t have sent a car or something to pick her up from the mall like he promised. She had spent so much on his credit card that she was surrounded by high end boutique bags. Just when she was reaching her finally straw she got a message from him telling her he had sent a friend, some woman by the name of Gabrielle, to pick her up. Alison hadn’t heard of any Gabrielle before, except maybe her new dorky step sister but she went by Gabby anyway.

Following her father’s instructions to Gabrielle, Alison’s mouth was agape when she turned the corner to find a stunning blonde waiting for her. The blonde looked at Alison with distain and made Alison feel insignificant for the first time in her life. She didn’t like it. Gabrielle didn’t let up with her stare down, enjoying the way Alison averted her gaze. Alison meanwhile was grateful that their encounter was going to brief.

“So you’re Ted’s daughter? Hmmm I expected somebody a little more… impressive.” Gabrielle said not willing to hide her distaste. If this was anyone else Alison would have ground them to dust with only a few choice words but she felt so intimidated as she got into the car with the blonde bitch.

So much so that her phone dinged to tell her she lost some Brat points for her weakness. She had never lost points before! Gabrielle smirked to herself as she looked at her own phone and saw her points climb. She couldn’t wait become a wicked step mother.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Lena Horne (Cabin in the Sky, Stormy Weather)— Incredibly talented biracial actress, singer, dancer, and activist (she did so much work towards integrating audiences). Because of the racism of the era, she rarely got to be the lead actress but filmmakers loved her so much that they would often create stand alone segments within a film to highlight her beautiful singing, knowing that these segments would ultimately be cut from the film by censors in areas that forbid films with Black performers. Also, she's just so wonderful in Cabin in the Sky as a gold-digger villain who is not the least bit subtle about her intentions. I would highly recommend checking out her work.

Ginger Rogers (Swing Time, Top Hat)—Look I’ll level with you, I’ve never seen her in a musical and I know that she’s an amazing dancer and she’ll be even hotter when I finally watch Top Hat but I’m not submitting her as a dancer I’m submitting her as an ACTRESS. Her comic timing is impeccable!!!!! She’s full to bursting with life and in every role she seems to be having FUN, you can practically feel the twinkle in her eye. With her natural warmth it’s like she’s letting you in on the joke, y’all get to have this fun together! Making me laugh is hot!!! [If you'd like to see Ginger dance, videos below the cut]

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Lena Horne:

64.media.tumblr.com

Black American powerhouse singer and actor who faced all the usual bullshit that any BIPOC faced in vintage Hollywood and achieved legendary status anyway. Also a Civil Rights movement icon.

She was a gem

She was so beautiful and those dimples are amazing! Truly depressing how badly Hollywood treated her because she was black. I would love to have seen what she really could have been if they didn’t cast her in so many yikes roles. She’s got gorgeous eyes and that body! Her joyful smile makes happiness sexy!

Civil rights actress, singer, dancer, actress, she's got the whole package

Lena Horne was a wonderful singer and actress who largely starred in black cast musicals. While she had a lot of main stream success, she ultimately lost the lead role in showboat (a role she had played on the stage) to a white actress due to hollywood's prejudices. She was also blacklisted during the HUAC hearings, but she still managed to be hot be hot as fuck and have a career spanning decades, working with more well-known stars like Judy Garland in musicals, and working on stage and releasing albums when her hollywood career began to suffer.

Miss Horne became famous during a period of time when Hollywood had very few meaningful roles for people of color. Although she is more so known as a performer, she starred in two successful all black productions (Cabin in the Sky & Stormy Weather). If that wasn't enough, she also guest starred on the Muppets (Season 1, Episode 11)

Ginger Rogers propaganda:

She needs no introduction! An undeniable powerhouse on the dancefloor, and no less talented an actress. I once watched a compilation of cinema's greatest dance scenes and one of her and Fred Astaire's dances was featured, and one of the talking heads said he pitied her for 'having to keep up with him' - or something to that effect. Bullshit, I cry. Ginger Rogers was his absolute equal, and underplaying her incredible skill is downright criminal. I want the 'Cheek to Cheek' sequence from Top Hat to be permanently burned into my memory.

"Backwards in high heels", as the saying goes (though the pedant in me must point out that she in fact spent her fair share of time leading or dancing side-by-side). One of the earliest twinkle-toed ladies of the silver screen, and in terms of acting/persona, her balance of wide-eyed cuteness and movie-star glamour has never quite been replicated.

we all know her beloved string of musicals with fred but ginger also has an extensive and varied non-fred filmography that she's great in! a few ginger moments that are important 2 me personally ginger singing “we’re in the money” in gold diggers of 1933, complete with a verse in pig latin bc this whole movie is kinda mocking the concept of anyone actually being in the money in 1933; ginger and una merkel singing a verse of “shuffle off to buffalo” in 42nd street, providing some statler & waldorf-esque commentary on newlyweds from the upper berth of a railway car (interesting that belly was apparently a risque word in 1933 - maybe its bc the lyric is innuendo-ing about out of wedlock pregnancies - and that panties was a term for men’s underthings!); a favorite fred & ginger number

Ginger Rogers could do everything! She could sing, dance and act. She was hilarious in comedies, moving in dramatic roles (she won an Oscar for Kitty Foyle in 1940) and absolutely gorgeous!

Listen, no shade to Fred Astaire at all, but she both kept up with him step for step and then later went on to WIN AN OSCAR FOR ACTING. (which he did not.) truly a double threat!!!

One of the best dancers in Hollywood! Her work with Fred Astaire is just incredible.

ONE LINE: "Everything Fred did, Ginger did backwards and in heels" AND THEYRE RIGHT! Rogers was a total dance badass, and a lot of movie buffs know the story, but the Never Gonna Dance number from Swing Time took almost 50 takes, and allegedly by the end of filming it her white shoes had been stained pink because her feet were bleeding. As a note, she looks crazy gorgeous in this number. Watching these two dance is insane. They match up to each other in a way my mom describes as "divine" and she's right. DANCE NUMBERS!

Let's Call The Whole Thing Off (Shall We Dance, 1937, dancing starts at 3:14, they're in ROLLERSKATES)

(Ginger Rogers is the hottest woman ever to live in this number. seeing this as a teenager altered my brain chemistry)

(also watch her feet and how she moves opposite Astaire in this one. We all know our boy Freddie had that precision demon but jesus christ Miss Rogers, let a girl live!)

Pick Yourself Up, Swing Time 1936 (Everyone's seen this one but by god you are going to see it AGAIN!)

Shall We Dance, 1937 (duet begins at 2:34)

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, Roberta 1935 (There's just something about Ginger Rogers in a slick black dress man)

The Continental, The Gay Divorcee 1934

God she's MAGIC in this one.

Gay Divorcee's Ending Montage 1934

The infamous table and chairs spin happens at about 0:49. Pay CLOSE attention to her in this bc it looks like witchcraft and I feel lightheaded whenever I watch this movie bc shes THAT awesome.

She is a miracle to watch. Sorry for the sheer amount of clips. My entire family is like madly in love with Ginger Rogers.

[f10werfae]

Strawberry Shortcake

pairing: Husband!Henry x Shy!Wife!Reader

summary: henry cavill x shy! reader kitchen smut, pls! Apron + daddy + slap on the ass + cock sucking + gropping + size kinks (requested by anon)

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

requests are open💌/likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Woah love what’re you cookin” Henry asked growling in satisfaction seeing his wife start to plate their food and setting it onto the counter top. His smirk only growing when he saw she’d listened to one of his ideas for once, her ass visible out the back of the apron as she wore nothing underneath the baby pink fabric.

“U-uh I made some roast dinner since it’s Sunday, so I thought-“

A large hand smacking her sweet behind put her into absolute shock, her husband immediately pushing himself up against her back to cage her against the counter. His large paws pushing the plates of food far away, before he lifted her up to sit up on the counter to face him at a higher level.

Y/n Cavill was definitely not the most outgoing, some may even label her as shy, but really she was just someone who enjoyed her own company and kept to herself. Now when her husband mentioned a few weeks ago that he’d like to “see his woman cooking in nothin but an apron he bought for her” She felt hotter than the sun and thought she’d never consider the idea.

However, this morning Y/n woke up with a bit more confidence in her bag, finally giving into one of her husband’s biggest fantasies. It’s the least she could do for him after he ran about 15 different grocery stores trying to find a specific brand of chocolate she liked. One might even say she was excited for this, maybe more than Henry.

“What made you do all this then? Not that i’m complaining but if you’re only doing this to make me happy then I don’t want to push you” He said softer, his arms wrapping around her waist and nuzzling his nose against hers sweetly. Her soft strawberry scent filling his nostrils, her lips pecking his cheek,

“No I wanna try it Hen, please, if that’s ok?” Smirking up at her, her apron strings suddenly came undone, the pink fabric coming off completely and falling to the ground. His hands going to grab the globes of her ass as he delivered one hell of a spank, leading her to yelp cutely.

“Look at my precious little housewife, doing anything to please me, isn’t that right darling?” He taunted watching her lips pout out before he grabbed her jaw roughly, forcing her tongue out before spitting on it and pulling her into a tough open mouthed kiss. Their mix of spit landing atop her breasts, only lubricating her nipples even more.

“Such a dirty whore for your daddy huh? How about you make me one instead?”

“mhmm I wanna”

“Yeah course you do” He grinned vainly, his hands groping her breasts, taking one into his mouth as he maintained eye contact with the blushing babe. “These tits are gorgeous, should never hide these” He moaned jiggling them about in his hand, squeezing them gently enough to elicit a soft whimper from her.

Without saying another word, Y/n hopped off the counter and immediately dropped to her knees, her tongue already out waiting obediently. Unbuckling his belt, Henry softly caressed her face before slapping it just enough for a jolt to travel through her soaking pussy. Fisting his cock slowly, he slapped the head of it onto her flattened tongue, watching her drool all over the reddened tip.

Letting her take her time, Henry watched his girl slowly take him into her mouth inch by inch. Her eyes looked up at through her long lashes as her head bobbed back and forth repeatedly. The filthiest sounds erupting from her throat as she cupped his balls, even taking a few seconds to suck on them too while rubbing his cock.

“I can feel you about to cum” She said muffled around his dick, when all of a sudden he pulled her up from the ground and manhandled her into a very compromising position, due to her being so short in comparison. He held her flush against his chest, her thighs pulled apart as he started slipping his cock through her pussy lips, coating it in all her glistening goodness.

“You want me inside you lovie?” He whispered into her ear, his hand coming up to wrap around her throat a bit tightly, his other hand around her waist and landing onto her bulging clit. All for him.

“Mhm, please fuck me, n-need it so bad daddy” She screamed out feeling his whole girth slip between her lips and reach her clit before pulling back again, completely edging her to the point of insanity.

“I don’t know if you’re ready yet honey, I might be a bit too big for you, daddy doesn’t want to hurt you”

“not fair” She whimpered slamming her hips against his, if he wasn’t going to fuck her, then she was going to fuck herself on his cock. Sliding her pussy along his length, she held onto his arms for support as he just continued to grunt and moan behind her. His cock separated her pussy lips and taunted her so well, her pussy tingling with so much want.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, go ahead baby, fuck yourself on your husband’s cock like a dirty whore”

His words only edged her close as his thick fingers rubbed on her burning button, his cock spurting cum all over her thighs as her legs buckled beneath and she near fell to the ground, Henry of course catching her before she could, and setting her onto the kitchen stool; grabbing a wet rag to clean her up. A mix of their cum slowly dripping onto the marbled floor. Henry thought she never looked more beautiful than she did in these type of moments, after an intense loving session.

“You did so good for me beautiful, soso good, my gorgeous girl” He whispered watching her pussy twitch around nothing as he cleaned close to her little fuck hole.

“Thank you Hen, can you hold me for a while longer though?” She asked feeling her shy nature start to return once she calmed down, Henry’s arms picking up her nude form and moving her next door to their living room which was always covered in weighted blankets, blankets that helped her when she felt overstimulated or just anxious.

“Of course I can honey, now get under there and get into my arms” He ushered her under the blanket first after he got his boxers back on, making sure to wrap her like a massive burrito, then placed her into his side. Right where she belonged.

——-/

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[kakushino]

Cold?

Rengoku Kyojuro x GN! Reader

Christmas present for dear @kanao-tsuyuri-art inspired by this post.

Tags: fluff Word count: 0,6k

Masterlist

AN: It may be a early, but I hope this makes you smile and warms you a little in these cold times.

Kyojuro could be a dense man at times. For all his book-smarts, his ability to pick up on hints fluctuated around level 0, and it always took you pointing out something you wanted him to notice for him to actually take note of it. 

You getting a new outfit was always met with his falcon-like stare, an absent-minded smile and a “Did you get a new haircut?” He always knew something was off, but he never picked up on the right thing.

Which made it all the more surprising he noticed your shivering and correctly guessed the source.

Kyojuro was also getting better at using his ‘inside voice’ though he forgot at times. Like now. “Are you cold, my love?!” 

“Yes, a little.” You disliked the cold but you could hardly pass up the opportunity to go to the Christmas market with your boyfriend. You were both so busy at times it was hard to schedule dates; of course you would brave the Arctic to be with your Kyojuro, even if you hated the temperatures.

His smile diminished - a winter sun compared to his usual summer cheer. He didn’t hesitate, however, and quickly pulled off his right knitted glove, offering it to you. The grateful smile lighting up your beautiful face was his reward. 

Kyojuro always ran a little hotter than you, so he was sure the garment would warm your right hand. He took your left in his right, bringing it closer to his face as he intertwined your fingers. “Worry not! What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t warm you up!” 

His searing hot lips kissed your icy fingertips, making blood rush to your cheeks even more than before - this time not from the cold. “A terrible one to be sure,” you teased lightly, burying your face in your scarf to hide your shy smile.

“Well, at least you know what kind of wish you don’t need then!” Kyojuro puffed up his chest. “I promise to be the best partner you’ve ever had!” His passionate declaration prompted a slew of giggles from you. He was so silly, yet so sweet.

You had already done your shopping, gotten some of the mulled wine, and tasted the amazing food served at your local Christmas market. The last item on Kyojuro’s imaginary itinerary was wishing on the bell.

It wasn’t a custom native to either of your country of origin, but the market offered the option this year. You could make a wish and ring the bell to make it come true before the New Year.

Kyojuro dragged you criss-cross through the entire square to find it. It was a bell hung above a small stool, there was a rope hanging from the middle connected to the clapper to ring it once you made your wish. There was no queue at the moment, though you remembered seeing one when you came to the markets.

“Come on! Time to make a wish, my love!” His grin lit up the square more than the Christmas tree lights as he took all your bags and urged you forward.

With a wide smile at his antics, you stepped on the stool to reach the rope and made your wish, the clanging of the bell sounding somewhat sweet, and you believed, right then and there under your love’s fiery gaze, that your wish would come true.

The moment passed, and it was Kyojuro’s turn.

He might be the one who represented a flame, but it was your smile, your charm, and your love that set his heart ablaze as he walked towards the bell. The small box he kept in his pocket burned through his clothes as he fervently wished:

May my love say ‘yes’.

dividers made by the amazing @benkeibear

Network: @enchantedforest-network

[granolawriting]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ First time with Anakin (18+) ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: another simple rework of some old work I had lying around, enjoy ;)! And if you like it, make sure to drop a request in my inbox if you have an idea of what I could write next :)

┆ ┆ ┆ ┆⋆

It took a very long time for Anakin to be comfortable being even remotely intimate with you. not because of you of course, but due to his own transgressions. He never really liked being touched in general, mostly due to his own reservations and fear of the ‘Jedi code’, but as you two grew closer as a couple his walls very slowly fell, and he abandoned such code of ethics. 

it was subtle at first, but even the slightest bit of deviation in his usual level of touch threw him completely off his focus. showing a much softer side of him when you did so. hand holding was a big one, for at least a month every time you’d hold his hand to even cross a street, you would be faced with a blushed man with a head turned from yours to hide such a flustered reaction.

though, that was a catalyst for more intimacy between the two of you to be allowed. And once you mustered up to courage to kiss him it went all downhill from there

he wouldn’t say it, God no he wouldn’t, but he craved you. the taste of your lips, the heat of your body against his if only for a second, was one he couldn’t shake from his mind. He even confided in his master about it. and of course, in return, he offered helpful romantic advice that he very blissfully ignored. mumbling on about how a Jedi of his stature doesn’t have the means to waste with silly feelings such as those.. that he should just brush it off.

 though of course, he couldn’t do that. Especially with you. and soon it became apparent to you as well the insatiable desire that slowly overtook him. feeling him gaze at you when he thought you weren’t looking, only for him to catch himself and blush, straightening his posture and looking the other way as he fiddled with his hair and clothes.

 there’s no doubt you wanted him too. He was adorable in that sense, always trying so hard to be mysterious. but if you just watched him you saw how quickly he was to falter. you knew how soft his true demeanor was.

so of course, taking all of that into account one night you took it upon yourself to visit him. letting him know you were there before letting yourself in.

 He was sat on his bed, eyes slightly red and adorning his pajamas, which simply consisted of black pants during the hotter months. He looked up at you, eyes filled with subtle curiosity given that you usually aren’t one to visit him so late at night. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. you knew what you came there to do, but now that you were confronted with it you froze for a moment.

NSFW

but as you gaze into his eyes, watching his face soften as he looks at you, seeing his love for you painted all over his face as he stares back at you, you go in for a kiss. all you went there to do was kiss him, but that quickly became the least of the things you two were to do that night. As your lips met his, his eyes widened in a mix of shock and excitement. quickly, he lifted his hands to keep your face next to his, feeling the cool touch of his fingers contrast the flustered warmth of your cheek. You were surprised by his advances, but you soon began to deepen the kiss, placing your hands on either side of the bed next to him to better stabilize yourself in front of him. As the kiss you initiated turned into something deeper, hearing low moans escape his lips between each breath, you moved your legs to straddle his.

In doing so you made yourself completely surround him, and not a few moments later did he softly fall back onto his bed to allow you to crawl on top of him. you both were getting very heated, but you could tell it could go much farther very quickly. you let up from his lips, a whimper quietly leaving his mouth as he looks at you in confusion. You ask for his full consent before continuing to do anything more, wanting to respect his comfort zone regarding intimacy. though to your shock, he consents, eyes almost piercing with desire as he holds your face. 

simply, but fiercely stating that he “wants, no needs all of you”.

That was enough for you, way more than enough. you went all in.

You began softly, passionately kissing his neck and chest as you felt his hands run through your hair. whenever you were to hit a slightly more sensitive place, you could feel him subconsciously tug on your hair just a little harder, though you’re not one to complain. As soon as you reached his pants, you met with his eyes again. Reassuring with him that you were allowed to continue. and with the look you saw in his eyes, it seemed more than anything as if he was begging for it. you slowly slid down his pants, boxers included, to reveal his cock. It was obvious he wasn't one to explore its pleasures himself, because at the mere feeling of its sensitive state clash with the cool breeze flowing into the room was enough to make him squirm. You took this into account before you began to toy with it a little. softly stroking it as you held a few of his fingers, feeling him quickly grip onto you following a low moan anytime you hit a weak spot.

After some time of gentle teasing, you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. you were obsessed with his sound, with his taste, with how he looked as you played with him. you slowly crawl on top of him again, stripping yourself of your clothes as you stay straddled over his stomach. you saw his eyes follow you in desire, hands spazzing slightly at his sides, not knowing where to hold you.

You place yourself over his cock, gently asking him if you’re allowed to go further. his eyes widened once again in shock at the implications of what you were about to do, but he nodded his head slightly so you could finally begin to pleasure the both of you again. you slowly slid down on him, watching an overwhelming amount of pleasure overtake his face as you went deeper. his hands instinctively grip you by the waist, begging for you to grind on him as you sit on him.

so of course, you oblige. softly moving your hips back and forth on his cock, feeling his hands grip around your waist tight as they beg you to go faster. the room filled with low moans and groans coming from him and you. You try very hard to keep the same pace the whole time, but as he becomes more needy for you, and, as you get closer to finishing, you couldn’t control yourself.

By the end, you were still grinding at a moderate pace, but Anakin's grunting and movements, in general, became more needy. more whines start to escape him as he's essentially moving your hips back and forth. thrusting up into you with his cock to the best of his abilities. not too soon later, he asks you to get off. Finishing on his stomach in a sound of moans and whines that only needed a few strokes to make him cum. 

as realization began to hit the both of you, you just lay in shock. out of breath from your first time, sore all over. All you can do is wriggle up to meet his height on the bed and hold him. you both are completely exhausted, so after he cleans up a little with whatever he had lying around at arm's length, he reciprocates the embrace. softly holding you as you drifted into sleep. quietly thanking you as he stroked your hair. He felt loved.

[moonlightazriel]

Mask Off /// Ghostface!Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: "can i please request one where azriel is ghostface and he terrorizes bad people, and he has a rival ghostface who interrupts his missions/steal his targets and it pisses him off so he plans to kill the rival, he has the ghostface pinned and takes the mask off, plotwist it’s his mate who is just as confused as him."

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood.

Word Count: 2,2K

Notes: I'm completely obsessed with Scream for a really long time, so this request was so fun to do. Also, thank you @fieldofdaisiies for this amazing little Moodboard for this fic. Happy Halloween guys!

Main Masterlist

The lights flickered, and the sound of his boots against the wet floor contributed to the eerie atmosphere, the slight splash of water whenever he stepped on a puddle. Azriel felt his blood run hotter as anger spread throughout his being, pinned against a wall, throat slit open, was his target, a well-known rapist, the male he was supposed to kill tonight. 

On the wall behind him, written with the man’s blood:

“Too late, Mr.Ghostface! Maybe next time..” 

Consumed by rage, Azriel let his fist connect with the corpse’s face, the impact breaking the nose, but he wouldn’t mind, would he? 

He walked away, removing his mask and the cloak, revealing equally black pants and a t-shirt. He shoved everything inside his backpack and walked to where he had his motorcycle parked. He sat on top of it, mind still rushing with anger as yet another target was getting killed before he had the chance to do the job. 

Azriel knew that he was wrong on a certain level, but Velaris needed him, needed this. He was paid by someone named R to get rid of the bad people in the city, corrupt politicians, rapists, murderers, drug dealers, and all the scum that composed the underworld of Velaris. 

It was Cassian, his ex-military best friend who had suggested this to him, R paid well, and he was unemployed for a whole year, depending solely on the income from his wonderful mate, Y/N was the sweetest woman alive, she always helped him a and she was the light of his life. 

But her work in an office was barely enough for her to finish her college degree and for them to get going, with the Increasing of their rent, and everything else. He had to watch her work hard while his applications were denied, one after the other. So in a desperate measure, he accepted. And as much as he hated it and hated to lie to her even more, he was happy to be helping and keeping her safe from people who would harm her. 

At least like that, soon enough he would have enough for her to drop that awful job of hers, her boss would hit on her and make her life hell whenever she denied him, Azriel had to contain himself many times, how he wanted to get rid of him, for even thinking about laying a finger on his mate. 

He headed home, where Y/N was resting, trying to forget about his rival that was trying really hard to get him pissed. About two months ago he started to get where his targets were supposed to be, just to find them killed, dripping in blood and with their throats open. Pretty much like he did whenever he got to actually finish it. He was trying really hard to find who this was, cuz not finishing a job meant not getting paid. 

He slowly climbed into bed, his warm mate turning to his side, hugging him, kissing his arm in her sleep, her fresh scent as she had just walked out of the shower, relaxed him enough to fall asleep fast. The tiredness of the day weighed on him. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“What about your trip?” Azriel asked, shoving a handful of cereals in his mouth as he watched Y/N sip on a cup of tea, her working clothes doing wonders to her body, he watched her up and down, stopping at her blushing cheeks, this woman would be the death of him. 

“He got a new secretary, I pity her, but at least he left me alone and I don’t have to travel with him anymore.” She said with a relaxed smile and he nodded. 

“Good, I hated when he took my mate away.” Which, to be fair, was quite often, not long trips, but often enough to annoy Azriel. 

“Not anymore, love.” She said, finishing her tea, and rushing to kiss him, before getting her keys and leaving for work. 

His phone buzzed on the countertop, a message from R telling him that his next target was chosen and he should be found at a party in two days. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N tapped her nails against the desk, feeling the anger creep up in the form of a cold shiver in her spine. Her boss was particularly annoying today, she closed her eyes. The image of the lifeless body, his blood warm on her made her squeeze the mouse between her left hand. She killed criminals, not really annoying men who didn’t know their places. Her phone buzzed. 

“The black party. In two days. Y. Slater.” It was all that said, she sighed. The money was good, another rich person trying to get rid of their enemies, it didn’t hurt that each one of her targets were bad people, someone who had done terrible things to others for their own gain. 

She had never killed before this, but as she saw the innocent hiring proposal for a bodyguard, and the really good amount of money they promised, she applied. She had a very vast knowledge of martial arts, and she could easily get rid of someone, so when the handsome male said what he really wanted, she agreed. The chance of a better life for her and her mate was beyond her morals. 

Not having to struggle with rent, college debt, and everything else. The thought of not living in that crappy place anymore, not needing to count every penny at the end of the month, and wanting to take him out and shower him with gifts made all the wrong things about the job useless. 

So she took a deep breath, deleted the message, and went about with her day, mind focusing on the amount of money she would have if she kept saving it. The only difficult part was to explain this to Azriel. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Everyone wore black, and the masks also were present, so no one minded the masked figure lurking in every corner. Azriel kept a close eye on his target, the man was surrounded by people and a half-naked woman squirming on his lap. 

From the corner of his eyes, another hooded figure caught his attention, same clothes and the same mask, but significantly smaller. Azriel narrowed his eyes, looking like his second target arrived just in time. 

The party went on, and the other Ghostface remained rooted in place just like him, it didn’t seem like they saw him, which was good for him. The woman still squirming in the male's lap whispered something in his ear, he nodded eagerly and they got up, heading for a more secluded place in the luxurious nightclub. 

Y/N had spotted her rival as soon as she arrived, but her target was the main focus, annoying them was just a bonus. Rhys would send her on missions in another city, which led her to pretend to travel a lot for work, but as her targets got killed and Velaris was on a growing spree of bad people, he moved her here. 

She was always a step ahead of the other one, and this made her proud. She would linger a little longer sometimes, just to see them burning with rage, then she would rush home and pretend to be asleep, always the nice, dutiful mate. 

The woman who escorted the target yelled something about getting more champagne and left the room. As she passed by Y/N, the latter tapped her shoulder and warned. 

“Don’t come back.” She placed her indicator finger in the mask's mouth and the woman swallowed dryly, a shiver down her spine. She nodded, rushing away from the scene.

The room was big, a bed was placed in the center and mirrors filled the ceiling. Rich people really liked to show off. The door to the bathroom swung open and the male stepped out again, heading for the bed. Azriel opened the door, and the male jumped in his seat. 

“I think you have the wrong room dude.” Azriel walked closer in silence, blade in hand, shining in the dim light, the male’s breath got stuck in his throat and a tickle of sweat ran down his forehead. “Is it money that you want?” Azriel shook his head in denial. “I can pay whatever your price is, just leave me alone.” The male tried to get up but Azriel rushed, his knife sunk in the pale skin as the man tried to dodge. “WHAT THE HELL?” 

Azriel turned around, and the other Ghostface dared to show up, closing the door, only one of them would get out of this room, and most certainly would be him. He removed his knife, stabbing the man three more times before he turned to the other one, the male fell to the floor in a puddle of blood and agony, whining like a pig as he tried to crawl away from them. 

He launched for them, his big body overpowering their smaller one, they were sent with their back to the door, the air getting knocked out of their lungs, Azriel threw a punch, hitting the wooden door as they spun, getting out of the way, the other one kicked his stomach, making him curl as they darted towards him, circulating him and jumping on their back. 

The small arms wrapped around his neck as they tried to knock him out, the man kept crawling and agonizing towards the bathroom, his cries annoying both of the killers. Azriel stumbled backward, knocking them on the wall two times before they let go of him, he turned to them, punching them in the nose, this made Y/N dizzy and she used her knife, making an ugly slash across his forearm. Azriel hissed in pain and anger and his hands grabbed the small and very soft waist, tackling the other one to the ground. 

He sat on their stomach, pinning their hands to the ground with his right hand while the other one reached for the mask. A million scenarios passed through his mind, but in neither of them, the face of his mate would be bleeding behind that damned mask. 

Azriel didn’t say a thing, just watching the blood drip from her nose. From the punch he had given her. Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he didn’t fulfil his plans, instead, he reached for his own mask, her eyes widened as his flushed face was revealed to her. 

“Well, this is new.” She said, and it felt like he was awake from a trance, blinking, he took a deep breath. 

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting this.” He retorted, feeling the urge to laugh at the whole situation, while he was sneaking out to do his job, she was doing the very same. “Out of all people, I’d never thought it was you. Maybe Cassian or someone else.” 

“Cassian is in this too?” She asked in disbelief. 

“He introduced me to this.” He winked. “But you? Never you.”

“I’m not as sweet and innocent as you think, handsome.” She giggled and Azriel leaned in, kissing her forehead. 

“I see that sweetheart.” She scrunched her face in pain. 

“Can you get up? My head is pounding.” He quickly got up, pulling her with him, more blood dripping from her nose. 

“I’m so sorry, love.” He apologized. 

“It’s okay, we should probably see your arm, it’s pretty bad.” Azriel brushed her off. The male kept crying, trying to close the bathroom door. 

“Do you want to team up instead?” She asked, knife in hand as she walked towards the bathroom, Azriel watched as she stepped on top of the man, grabbing a handful of hair, pulling his head backwards as she lowered and slashed his throat, blood splashing on the white floor. “I was planning on actually killing you but I’m glad it’s you Azzie.” She winked and Azriel laughed at the similarities. 

“That’s funny, I was planning on killing you too, I’m glad I didn't do it, baby.” He pulled her closer. “We’re teaming up for sure, but only if you tell me how you tricked me last week.” He said, pulling her with him as they weren’t leaving a crime scene but rather a nice restaurant. 

“Of course love, if you show me how you tackled me down to the ground.” She turned to him, winking. “It was kinda hot.” 

Azriel laughed, they both got their masks back and he led the way back to his motorcycle. As they removed their clothes and masks he looked at her. 

“How did you get here?” He inquired. 

“Nah, got an Uber, rather easy to leave a crime scene like this.” She said with a laugh, looking at the mask in her hands before shoving it inside his backpack. “Do you think R would mind us using the uniform in bed?”

“What?” He asked, climbing the bike, she got up behind him, leaning closer to his ear. 

“You look so good in that mask, it would be such a waste not to use it, Mr.Ghostface.” She purred in his ear and he shivered, smirking as she got his helmet on her head, starting to drive home. 

“You’re such a temptation.” He barked and she giggled.

“Only for you, handsome.”

[macabr3-barbi3]

I'd like to request a reader stumbling upon Alastor and a deer having a squeaking contest in the woods. I don't know why I need it but I need it because squeaking contest. Thank you

Hello! I hope this scratches the itch for you, it was super cute and fun to write ❤️🦌

You were perhaps a bit early for your meeting with Alastor, but you didn’t think he would mind as you eased open the door to his hotel room and let yourself in. You had been regularly spending time together for a few months now since you had started staying at the hotel, and normally you shared an evening cup of tea about an hour later than you currently were. 

Alastor wasn’t in his room when you stepped inside though, the fire going but no sign of the Radio Demon. You set the new tea you had brought along for the two of you to try on the table near his armchairs and wander further into the room.

He might be in his bayou dimension, you figure. It wasn’t like him to be outside the hotel at this time of the night, so unless he was down at the bar or something he had to be out in the swamp. You had been itching to take a closer look at the ecosystem anyway, so you hoped he wouldn’t mind if you took a look around.

Stepping over the threshold from bedroom to bayou, the difference was immediately noticeable- the atmosphere felt thicker, warmer, more tangible. You follow the path that’s been eroded into the earth through the trees, marveling at the world that Alastor has created here. It was beautiful, the stars shining through the canopy of trees above you, green-tinted moon casting a faint glow on the flora and little creatures you could see skittering about. Maybe he wouldn’t be too averse to having your tea out here sometimes- iced, since it was a bit hotter, but you didn’t think he would mind.

A faint squeaking noise draws your attention, feet halting as you try to pinpoint the direction it had come from. A moment of silence, and then you hear it again coming from your left. You slip your shoes off to muffle the sound of your feet in the grass and creep towards the sound.

You’ve found Alastor, at least- he’s bent at the waist and face to face with a baby deer, ears flattened against his head and his smile thin. Your eyebrows scrunch at the sight, and then the fawn makes the noise that you had followed; high pitched and cute, it makes you smile, grin widening when Alastor glares at the tiny creature and imitates the sound.

They go back and forth several times, the squeaking increasing in volume and length and Alastor getting progressively more frustrated. You hadn’t even known that he could make a noise like that, so sweet and soft and genuinely deerlike that it finally makes you giggle, the fawn taking off into the darkness of the woods and Alastor standing to his normal height, ears pointing skyward as his eyes narrow at the sight of you.

“What,” he inquires, “are you doing out here?” 

“What am I doing out here? You were in some kind of squeaking contest with a baby deer- so cute by the way-”

“My actions are none of your concern.” He turns his head away from you, but even in the dim lighting you can see the faint blush to his complexion.

“Come on, Al,” you tease lightly, not wanting to actually anger him. “You can tell me- did the fawn offer you its soul if you could out-adorable it? You were doing a great job from what I could see.”

“If you must know, it was a riveting argument about the state of my bayou- whatever level of ‘cuteness’ you apply to it is merely a byproduct of the conversation. Since you’ve scared the damned thing off, I shall have to resume the conversation another time.” His smile is tense, leaning into your personal space. “You will speak of this to no one,” he says, brushing his hands off on his suit jacket. “Know that it is only the faintest sliver of platonic affection keeping your afterlife uninterrupted.”

“Gotcha,” you agree. “Big scary Radio Demon? Not cute in the slightest; I have no evidence to the contrary if anyone asks. You have my word.” You place a hand over your heart in mock-seriousness, and know that you’ve won him over when he scoffs and his smile softens. “Now come on, I brought a new tea for us to try- back to society!” You’re already contemplating how to make him make that squeaking noise again; maybe if you asked nicely he would do it for you, or perhaps you’d have to startle him into it-

“It’s not even a mile back to the room, and this is hardly the wilderness,” he complains, but he follows you anyway, your nefarious plot unnoticed.

[blueicequeen19]

Dibs

Warnings: jealousy, insecurities, vaginal & anal sex, oral, threesome, JJ wanting John B’s girl

The room was smokey and starting to tip on its side from the amount you'd smoked and drank that night. You were totally wasted, more so than you'd ever been in your life. The uneasy feeling in the room didn't help. At least the weed and the alcohol made it a little more tolerable. You just didn't mean to take it so far. The tension was thick between your boyfriend and his best friend. The shitty looks and snarky comments only made you tip the bottle back further. What was the problem?

It seemed that every time you caught the blonde looking at you, John B was there to stick his tongue down your throat. You'd always felt JJ's eyes on you but you didn't think anything of it. Maybe he was just being aware of his surroundings. He knew you were with John B. So why was John B being so possessive.

The buzz seemed to help at first but you quickly realized that it only made JJ more comfortable with his staring and John B became more aggressive with his displays of affection.

You quickly pull away from the kiss, panting and trying to catch your breath while John B tries to pull you in again. You almost miss the way he shoots JJ a look before turning your head for a kiss.

"Stop," You push at John B's chest, trying to put some distance between the two of you. John B shoots JJ a glare. "What's your deal? Why are you acting like this?" You murmur, taking a moment to look between the two males.

"John B is jealous, Y/N." JJ pipes up, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the room again before leveling his gaze on you again. John B bristles as his hands tighten on your waist.

"Why?" You cup John B's face, urging him to look at you as he continues shooting daggers JJ's way.

"Because--," John B swallows before moving his brown eyes to yours, "--JJ has been eye fucking you for awhile and I'm sick of it." Heat and butterflies fill your gut as you try to remain unphased. Part of you liked that you had such an effect on the blonde while the other part didn't want to anger John B further.

"It's only fair. I had eyes on her first but you swooped in like some knight in shining armour like always." JJ shrugs, taking another hit and blowing smoke rings into the air. You were taken aback by this. You didn't know that JJ had been interested. You liked both guys but you'd always been loyal to John B.

"Dude, you don't get to call dips. Either step up and take your shot or sit down and shut up." John B growls at his best friend, pulling you further into his arms.

"This is me taking my shot. You just won't share her." JJ lets his blue gaze roam down your body and your blood seems to burn hotter. He wanted John B to.. share you. John B scoffs before turning back to you, cupping your face and making you look directly at him.

"You don't want that, right? You don't want to be shared?" His tone is even, not giving you a clue to what he really wants. You wanted everything to go back to normal. You wanted him to have his best friend. You didn't want them fighting over you and you didn't want to break up the group.

"I think," You lick your lips before placing a soft kiss to John B's mouth, "I'm okay with it if you are. It's just sex. You're the one I'm in love with." John B tenses under your touch but you could see his cock swelling in his shorts. His body liked the idea even if his brain didn't. John B releases a shuddering breath so you take it upon yourself to loosen his belt and undo his shorts. His cock springs free when you pull his boxers down and you quickly close your mouth around the swollen tip. John B groans, threading his fingers through your hair to guide you.

"She needs to be naked." JJ's voice startles you and you let the cock fall from your mouth as you sit up on your knees on the couch. John B swallows thickly before nodding, carefully helping remove your top. You shimmy out of your shorts until you're left in a bra and panties. John B's cheeks are red as you lean in to kiss him, hoping to ease his discomfort while he reaches around to unclasp your bra. The material falls from your body and he quickly tosses it, his tongue finding its way into your mouth as you kiss.

"Panties too." JJ's words startle you again and you find yourself pulling away from John B to comply, quickly removing your soaked panties. You hadn't realized how much of a mess you'd made. You lock eyes with JJ as you drop the panties to the floor and take in his disheveled state. His eyes were almost completely black from his blown pupils, his chest was heaving with every breath, and he had a massive bulge straining in the front of his shorts.

"Good girl. Now keep sucking." Your heart seems to soar with his praise, your praise kink shining through as John B guides your head back down to his lap. You stay on your knees on the cushion, your ass end exposed for JJ as you suck John B down your throat. The more sounds he made, the hotter you seemed to get. You never shied away from making your man feel good and John B always returned the favor. Only this time it's not John B's fingers that suddenly slide through your plump lips, spreading you wide while smearing your arousal over your throbbing clit. You whimper around John B's cock in your mouth and he groans, using your hair to guide you down further. You gag but refuse to stop. The thought of not being able to see JJ behind you had you trembling with anticipation. His light touches on your pussy were not enough.

"She's fucking soaked, man." JJ rasps, his rings brushing against your trembling thighs. "I think she likes being on display for us." JJ lets the tip of one finger penetrate you and your entire body clenches, begging to be filled. JJ chuckles before slipping his finger fully inside you, making you moan and vibrate around John B's cock.

“Jesus, fuck.” You hear John B croak, his grip tightening in your hair as JJ starts to finger fuck you faster. Your pussy quivers with your impending orgasm, John B’s hold in your hair being the only thing to guide you up and down. Just when the edge is near, JJ stops, withdrawing his fingers to gently rub your throbbing clit. You whimper, letting John B slip from your mouth.

“Why’d you stop?” You sob, feeling John B manhandle you on your hands and knees so you’re facing JJ. John B enters you roughly, making your eyes water before JJ answers.

“Because you’re only cumming on cock tonight.” You moan loudly as John B starts to fuck you, grunting with each movement as JJ frees himself and presses his swollen tip to your lips.

“Suck him, baby. Make him feel as good as you do me.” John B runs a soothing hand along your spine before gripping your shoulder as he hammers into you. You grant JJ access to your mouth, swallowing him as deep as you can while your body jerks with every thrust from John B.

“Fuck, that mouth. You’re so good at that.” JJ moans, tilting your chin so you’re forced to look into his eyes as you feel throat his cock. Tears run down your face as you struggle to catch a breath as your orgasm hits you hard, signaling John B’s own release. JJ growls, pulling you off him as John B slows to a stop and everyone fights to catch their breath. JJ doesn’t give you any warning before pulling your mouth to his and guiding you onto his lap. JJ pulls away long enough to tear his shirt over his head when something square bounces off his chest.

“Put a condom on.” John B growls, making JJ smirk as he plucks the foil from the cushion. You lift up so he can roll the condom on then he’s pulling you down, impaling you on his cock. You suck in a breath, already entirely too sensitive as he starts to thrust up into you, guiding your hips back and forth.

“You like that? Like having two cocks in you in one night?” JJ plucks your nipple between his teeth as your head falls back. You turn your head slightly to see John B watching with hooded eyes, his cock growing hard again as he watches you get fucked by his best friend.

“Yes. I love it.” You moan, never taking your eyes of John B. You reach for him and he happily stands, coming closer and kissing you hard. JJ’s fucking has you moaning against John B’s lips while two sets of hands roam your body.

“I want your ass.” John B growls, letting his warm hand slide down over your bouncing cheek.

“Take it.” You beg, your body threatening to come apart at the seems. John B kisses you harder before pulling away to spit in his hand then hiding it between your cheeks, pressing his spit against your unused hole. You suck in a breath as he penetrates, your body tightening on its own and making JJ growl in response.

“Focus on me. He’s gotta get you ready.” JJ jerks your head back to face him, capturing your lips as John B slips behind you. You get lost in the kiss and the feel of them both. You were in another world as you fought not to scream as John B added another finger to stretch you out. JJ strokes your clit with one hand and torments your nipples with the other, making sure to stimulate you through the pain.

“JJ.” You moan his name and his eyes seem to soften before he’s kissing you again. You don’t know why you set it but you can tell that he loves that you did. Suddenly your head is jerked back and John B is kissing you just as hard. You could tell he was growing jealous again so you reached back, stroking his cock and helping guide him where you want him before he pulls away.

“You tell me if you want me to stop.” John B says, kissing your shoulder after you nod, words being too hard for you to come by. The thick head of his cock presses inside your tight ring of muscle, making the three of you groan in unison.

“Keep going. Don’t stop.” JJ instructs, pulling you against his chest to give John B better access. You whither against him, wanting this to be as incredible for them as it was for you. His cock never seems to end until it’s finally seated inside you. The three of you are panting like you’d tan a marathon, your insides completely full of them. You were so stuffed you could feel it deep in your gut. You felt them everywhere. JJ starts to roll his hips, guiding yours back and forth until John B finds his rhythm.

“So, if you’d fucked me first—.” JJ starts before breaking out into a smile. You shake your head, too cock drunk to answer as hands fondle your body. You were on the brink of the most powerful orgasm you’d ever experienced and nothing was stopping it.

“She’s about to cum.” John B growls, his lips finding your neck as he fucks your ass, pulling out as JJ pushes in. You were delirious and hardly able to keep your eyes open or control the noises you made.

“Fuck, let’s fill her up then, B.”

[saint-ambrosef]

climate change fatalism is so exhausting. it easily becomes a ecological scapegoat to blame instead of humans taking accountability for how their individual actions affect the environment.

i had a conversation earlier in a fb garden group where a women told me that since desertification was changing her local landscape and making it harder to grow native plants, it was actually okay and even good of her to be planting invasive exotic species that could adapt to the "new normal" climate in her area so that the wildlife would have at least something for shade/shelter/food. in the same message she mentioned trying to eradicate native weeds on their acreage because it had no personal use to her or her non-native livestock.

and i was like. no girl. the desertification in your area has been caused by decades of bad agricultural land management practices, something that is fully reversible. those weeds you are ripping out provide more benefit to wildlife than your nasty exotics, and ranchers removing these "undesirable" natives for decades is why the land has grown barren. planting invasive exotics to replace the artificial loss of biodiversity will only hasten the problem you seek to fix.

but the point of my post isn't this specific woman, it's the general attitude she represents. it's a lot easier to blame the nebulous figure of climate change than to work toward ecological restoration. it's simpler to plant invasive exotics than to reverse decades of poor land management. it's more enjoyable to grow a pretty flowering shrub and pretend it's necessary due to climate change than to allow native ragweed to grow even though the allergies suck because it feeds the birds and pollinators. and it's a helluva lot easier to blame climate change for the worsening of your local environment than to admit that overgrazing your livestock and ripping out native plants just because they have no immediate value to you might have contributed heavily to the decline of your microbiome.

climate change has quickly become this collective responsibility that no one individual is responsible for, because it's so easy to blame the slightest change in environment on it. "we're running out of water because of climate change!" it's because urban landscaping practices channel away water instead of letting it soak into the groundwater wells, and turf lawns use 80% of the city water. "the city is so much hotter now!" yeah because twenty years ago developers planted fast-growing but short-lived/weak trees which have now all died, meaning our roads and neighborhoods have way less shade and foliage to absorb the heat. "the bees are disappearing because of climate change!" sharon it's because there's not a single thing in your yard that a native pollinator would recognize as a food source.

anyways i don't know where exactly i'm going with this. i guess i'm just tired of climate change fatalism because it removes personal incentive to do anything to reverse environmental harm that we could be fixing on an individual level. but "global warming" has become a very convenient excuse for many people, unfortunately.

just makes me wonder how often things blamed on climate change are actually a result of direct human actions that are reversible

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

July 6, 2023

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUL 7, 2023

The payroll processing firm ADP said today that private sector jobs jumped by 497,000 in June, far higher than the Dow Jones consensus estimate predicted. The big gains were in leisure and hospitality, which added 232,000 new hires; construction with 97,000; and trade, transportation and utilities with 90,000. Annual pay rose at a rate of 6.4%. Most of the jobs came from companies with fewer than 50 employees. 

The Dow Jones Industrial Average, which is a way to measure the stock market by aggregating certain stocks, dropped 372 points as the strong labor market made traders afraid that the Fed would raise interest rates again to cool the economy. Higher interest rates make borrowing more expensive, slowing investment. 

Today, as the Washington Post’s climate reporter Scott Dance warned that the sudden surge of broken heat records around the globe is raising alarm among scientists, Bloomberg’s Cailley LaPara reported that the incentives in the Inflation Reduction Act for emerging technologies to address climate change have long-term as well as short-term benefits. 

Dance noted that temperatures in the North Atlantic are already close to their typical annual peak although we are early in the season, sea ice levels around Antarctica are terribly low, and Monday was the Earth’s hottest day in at least 125,000 years and Tuesday was hotter. LaPara noted that while much attention has been paid to the short-term solar, EV, and wind industries in the U.S., emerging technologies for industries that can’t be electrified—technologies like sustainable aviation fuel, clean hydrogen, and direct air capture, which pulls carbon dioxide out of the air—offer huge potential to reduce emissions by 2030. 

This news was the backdrop today as President Biden was in South Carolina to talk about Bidenomics. After touting the huge investments of both public and private capital that are bringing new businesses and repaired infrastructure to that state, Biden noted that analysts have said that the new laws Democrats have passed will do more for Republican-dominated states than for Democratic ones. “Well, that’s okay with me,” Biden said, “because we’re all Americans. Because my view is: Wherever the need is most, that’s the place we should be helping. And that’s what we’re doing. Because the way I look at it, the progress we’re making is good for all Americans, all of America.”

On Air Force One on the way to the event, deputy press secretary Andrew Bates began his remarks to the press: “President Biden promised that he would be a president for all Americans, regardless of where they live and regardless of whether they voted for him or not. He also promised to rebuild the middle class. The fact that Bidenomics has now galvanized over $500 billion in job-creating private sector investment is the newest testament to how seriously he takes fulfilling those promises.”

Bates listed all the economic accomplishments of the administration and then added: “the most powerful endorsement of Bidenomics is this: Every signature economic law this President has signed, congressional Republicans who voted “no” and attacked it on Fox News then went home to their district and hailed its benefits.” He noted that “Senator Lindsey Graham called the Inflation Reduction Act ‘a nightmare for South Carolina,’” then, “[j]ust two months later, he called BMW’s electric vehicles announcement ‘one of the most consequential announcements in the history of the state of South Carolina.’” “Representative Joe Wilson blasted the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law but later announced, ‘I welcome Scout Motors’ plans to invest $2 billion and create up to 4,000 jobs in South Carolina.’ Nancy Mace called Bidenomics legislation a…‘disaster,’ then welcomed a RAISE grant to Charleston.” 

“[W]hat could speak to the effectiveness of Bidenomics more than these conversions?” Bates asked.

While Biden is trying to sell Americans on an economic vision for the future, the Republican leadership is doubling down on dislike of President Biden and the Democrats. Early on the morning of July 2, Trump, who remains the presumptive 2024 Republican presidential nominee, shared a meme of President Biden that included a flag reading: “F*CK BIDEN AND F*CK YOU FOR VOTING FOR HIM!” The next morning, in all caps, he railed against what he called “massive prosecutorial conduct” and “the weaponization of law enforcement,” asking: “Do the people of this once great nation even have a choice but to protest the potential doom of the United States of America??? 2024!!!”

Prosecutors have told U.S. district judge Aileen Cannon that they want to begin Trump’s trial on 37 federal charges for keeping and hiding classified national security documents, and as his legal trouble heats up, Trump appears to be calling for violence against Democrats. On June 29 he posted what he claimed was the address of former president Barack Obama, inspiring a man who had been at the January 6 attack on the U.S. Capitol to repost the address and to warn, “We got these losers surrounded! See you in hell,…Obama’s [sic].” Taylor Tarranto then headed there with firearms and ammunition, as well as a machete, in his van. Secret Service agents arrested him. 

Indeed, those crossing the law for the former president are not faring well. More than 1,000 people have been arrested for their participation in the events of January 6, and those higher up the ladder are starting to feel the heat as well. Trump lawyer Lin Wood, who pushed Trump’s 2020 election lies, was permitted to “retire” his law license on Tuesday rather than be disbarred. Trump lawyer John Eastman is facing disbarment in California for trying to overturn the 2020 election with his “fake elector” scheme, a ploy whose legitimacy the Supreme Court rejected last week. And today, Trump aide Walt Nauta pleaded not guilty to federal charges of withholding documents and conspiring to obstruct justice for allegedly helping Trump hide the classified documents he had at Mar-a-Lago. 

Trump Republicans—MAGA Republicans—are cementing their identity by fanning fears based on cultural issues, but it is becoming clear those are no longer as powerful as they used to be as the reality of Republican extremism becomes clear. 

Yesterday the man who raped and impregnated a then-9-year-old Ohio girl was sentenced to at least 25 years in prison. Last year, after the Supreme Court overturned the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision recognizing the constitutional right to abortion, President Biden used her case to argue for the need for abortion access. Republican lawmakers, who had criminalized all abortions after 6 weeks, before most people know they’re pregnant, publicly doubted that the case was real (Ohio Attorney General Dave Yost told the Fox News Channel there was “not a damn scintilla of evidence” to support the story). Unable to receive an abortion in Ohio, the girl, who had since turned 10, had to travel to Indiana, where Dr. Caitlin Bernard performed the procedure.

Republican Indiana attorney general Todd Rokita complained—inaccurately—that Bernard had not reported child abuse and that she had violated privacy laws by talking to a reporter, although she did not identify the patient and her employer said she acted properly. Bernard was nonetheless reprimanded for her handling of privacy issues and fined by the Indiana licensing board. Her employer disagreed.

As Republican-dominated states have dramatically restricted abortion, they have fueled such a backlash that party members are either trying to avoid talking about it or are now replacing the phrase “national ban” with “national consensus” or “national standard,” although as feminist writer Jessica Valenti, who studies this language, notes, they still mean strict antiabortion measures. In the House, some newly-elected and swing-district Republicans have blocked abortion measures from coming to a vote out of concern they will lose their seats in 2024. 

But it is not at all clear the issue will go away. Yesterday, those committed to protecting abortion rights in Ohio turned in 70% more signatures than they needed to get a measure amending the constitution to protect that access on the ballot this November. In August, though, antiabortion forces will use a special election to try to change the threshold for constitutional amendments, requiring 60% of voters rather than a majority.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[turnwashingtonsbaddies]

Just to throw in an important observation: it does seem like those last few polls were reblogged much more than the ones in the beginning. The last one, final one, was reblogged 88 times. I’m not trying to defend anybody, I simply think it might be connected to the large number of voters. I reblogged it twice myself and I have 900 followers. I hope that’s the reason and not cheating!

i've gotten a couple of messages since the poll closed, and i'm going to use this ask to give a blanket reply about how i'm proceeding on this situation

today, i went on a bit of an investigation, and basically my conclusion was, yes there likely was someone who cheated in the poll, BUT it would have required an EXTREME effort on their part to flip the poll with as significant of a margin as this one had. their past efforts of doing this have all been in SIGNIFICANTLY smaller polls

the final numbers of today's poll were 372 votes for andre and 529 for washington. for andre to be the rightful winner, at least 158 of the washington votes would have had to be the same person voting over and over on sock accounts. is that possible? technically yes, but honestly if someone is really unwell enough to make 158 sock accs to vote for george washington, maybe they just deserve the dub because how does one even fight that level of crazy lmaooo

also, as mentioned by anon, i have noticed a trend between number of reblogs and number of votes. this poll got more than double the amount of reblogs than the ben and peggy one, and that one had over 500 votes. this poll definitely came across a lot of people's dashboards because it would have been seen by the followers of everyone who reblogged it, and those followers really could be anyone. my blog alone has nearly 600 followers (and even tho not all of my followers are active or real people for that matter, that's still a lot)

i would wager that a significant chunk of the voters were blogs completely unaffiliated with turn or even the broader amrev fandom. i know that i personally have voted in random polls that i see on my dash, even if i'm not the intended audience for them. it would not be shocking to me if washington got a lot of votes because: 1. people saw a the blog they follow asking for them to vote washington, 2. washington is more recognizable to the normies than andre is, 3. people looked at the picture and thought ian kahn's george washington looked hotter than jj field's john andre. and i also do believe that a good chunk of the people who saw this poll probably voted for andre too; he got 372 votes himself after all, which is by no means a small number. it was more votes than ben got in the poll against peggy, and it was more votes than andre himself got when he won against abigail

while there are some measures i could take to re-do the poll and maybe make it more secure, i don't really see much of a point. i blocked the main person who is known for doing this (for reasons that extend even beyond the cheating allegations), but i can't block their fake accounts that i don't know exist, and i cannot stop them from making fake accounts, deleting those accounts, and then making new accounts with the same email just to vote again. at the end of the day, this was just a hottie bracket and it was just for fun. i don't really see much of a point in stressing myself out over this

it's been a pleasure hosting this bracket for everyone, and i hope everyone had fun with it regardless of the results. something about it's the journey, not the destination lol. and congrats to george washington and dilf enjoyers everywhere!!

[twinksrepository]

September prompt 18

Rating: PG

Pairing: Diavolo X F!Reader

CW: Implied NSFW talk

Word count: Roughly .7K

A/N: Based on the prompt "Run"

Images belong to Solmare.

As much as you enjoy running, there are times you regret it. Like this evening as you follow the path around the park near RAD and not too far from the usual path you and the brothers take to get to the school from the house of Lamentation. 

Instead of enjoying the chilled air and the music from your headphones in your ears you hear the steady breathing of your running partner. 

Diavolo. 

When he had first learned you liked to run for an hour every other day after school he decided to join you, and you couldn’t say no. Not with the way Lucifer had been staring you down like he was going to smite you from every level of existence if you gave an answer that was anything less than one hundred percent enthusiastic.

Now tonight as you take a turn, focusing on your long inhales through your nose as you exhale through your mouth you find it harder to pay attention. Between the two of you, the only sounds are your breathing, yet your eyes keep flicking to the demon prince beside you in a t-shirt and a pair of running shorts. 

Seeing him out of his RAD uniform isn’t anything new. It’s the way his skin is damp from the sweat building from his exertion, every time you run under a lamp it’s hard to miss the sheen on his tanned skin. Or the way his shirt is clinging to his body and revealing muscles that are normally hidden behind the layers of fabric that make up the bright red outfit. 

At least the two of you are on your final lap and he seems more focused on the run instead of trying to have a conversation. Something you very much can’t do while your feet are pounding into the ground. 

Seeing the starting point you had used you start to slow your pace, noticing Diavolo dropping back to remain beside you as you both reach the bench you had left your bag at. “I think my legs are on fire.” Panting as you dig around inside the fabric for the two water bottles you had thrown inside, handing one to Diavolo. 

“Ah, thank you!” Taking a sip before motioning with his hands towards the path you had just run on. “Shall we walk for a bit so your legs aren’t as on fire?” 

“Yes, otherwise I won’t be able to move tomorrow.” Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and putting the strap of your bag across your shoulders. As you set off on a leisurely stroll you find your eyes still darting to his form. “I hope I wasn’t too slow for you.” With his longer stride, you are wondering if he had found the pace to be below what he normally runs at. 

“Not at all! I found it rather refreshing.” Letting out a few of those booming laughs of his. “Perhaps I’ll join you more often.” Sending you a smile that has you wishing you were still running so you had an excuse about why your face was warming. 

“I think Barbatos would have something to say about the piles of paperwork you need to do.” Watching him flinch with water in his mouth is hilarious as a small spray bursts past his lips. 

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.” 

“Oh, Diavolo” Laughing as you shake your head. “I’ve seen you try to crawl out a window to get away from those piles. I am not being held responsible by your butler for ignoring your duties so you can go run with me.” Not thinking as you blurt out the next part. “You’re too distracting all sweaty anyway.” 

“If that’s the case I can think of other things we can do that are just as good as a run that makes us sweaty.” You jerk to a stop as the burning along your cheeks rises to the tips of your ears as well, it’s hard to ignore what he’s implying. 

“Just keep walking mister.” Feeling your face grow even hotter as he lets out another one of those booming laughs of his, at least he keeps walking. 

September 2024 Challenge Masterlist