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peachesofteal · 4 months

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Prologue: The Moirai

An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings) masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 1.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: modern setting retelling of Hades and Persephone A strange dream, a strange visit.

For months, you’ve had the same dream.

You’re wandering a valley, your valley, a lush, green collection of rolling peaks, sweet grass and clover nearly velvet beneath your bare feet. The sun, high in the sky, does not moisten your brow, or cause you distress. You do not thirst. You do not tire.

You only meander, feeding the earth snippets of power, growing flowers and vines, a plethora of life, amusing yourself, as you do every night.

You roam this meadow, until your eyes open at dawn, bullfrogs and crickets and the raw chirp of birds tapping against the windowpane, brightening you to the morning better than any alarm clock ever could.

But tonight, the dream is different.

You’ve never seen so much Narcissus. It paints an idyllic picture, bright petals sparkling far and wide, blanketing the hills until they swoop low in the soft belly of the dream. They draw you in, pulling you down until you’re seated amongst a mass of blooms, Asphodelus scattered throughout, honeysuckle vine curling through the grasses, more fragrant than sea spray, filling the air with an intoxicating sweetness that you can taste, crystal like dew dripping with jasmine and vanilla.

It's beautiful.

A creek babbles nearby, crooning in its own language, rushing trickle drowning out your thoughts and feelings, twisting and tugging until it’s hard to remember you’re in a dream at all.

Is this not your meadow?

Is this not your own?

The Asphodelus shivers, rocking back and forth in a cool wind, the kind that chills your skin, whips around your shoulders and tousles the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Hello.” The greeting startles you, twists your torso in the waist deep flora. Rise. Instinct booms, like your mother’s chide ringing a shrill bell for you to obey.

A figure stands in the meadow behind you, tall beside the sun, rays of golden light casting long shadow across their features. You squint, but it’s of no use. You cannot make them out.

“Hello.” You mirror, palms forward, heels digging into the grass. There’s a sharp prick, a sting that bleeds, and you curse, lifting your hand for inspection. “Acantha.” You hiss at the goddess, as if she has anything to do with your dreams.

Gold runs from the wound like the creek, slicking your palm, coating your skin in ichor, your own lifeblood.

The lifeblood of the Golden ones.

Lest you forget.

The figure kneels in the grass before you, their head bowed, black gloved hands reaching, tugging your palm upwards, dragging a thumb through the mess of ethereal life.

“I’m fine, just a prick.” You assure in the silence. There is so much light, and yet none, nothing to illuminate the face or the features of whomever it is that occupies your dream.

A fragment of your mind, perhaps. A trick of your mother’s.

Or an interloper.

“You’re hurt.” The dark pitch of the figure’s voice is startling. It’s fathomless, beautiful like the coast of the Aegean, guttural like the shout of death. Raw ruby, not quite plucked from its sanctuary, not quite finished or ready to be seen, a secret gem, only for you. The meadow rustles, thousands of faces in the little flowers leering, scowling, blue sky dimming into grey. Thunder shatters the tranquility, clapping in the distance, a garish boom sending electric shocks through the clouds, all manner of rumbles rolling over the hill.

Rot. It fills your soul in a flood, current wrapping around your ankles and tugging, like a thousand Oceanids lay at your feet, crying. Screaming.

But your hand is warm. Your hand is warm and it is held, for a moment, a moment in which you feel dramatically unlike yourself, unlike the fledging goddess you claim to be, unlike the unloved one you’re known as, and then-

it is cold. Your hand. Your heart. You. The being, the figure, is gone.

And you are alone.

The Greenhouse is quiet. An easy peace, so easily disturbed by comings and goings, friends and patrons, all manner of beings and others, stopping in and out.

They say hello. They ask for help, advice, favor. Some things you cannot give, even to some visitors who you hold close. Dearly.

These moments alone, moments of solitude in the Greenhouse, and some that you love the most. Moments when you're alone with yourself, your power, your connection to the earth. When you can feel it the most, the worms in the dirt, the roots desperate for water, the blooms aching to flourish. You are all these things, when you're alone. A power unto yourself. A goddess of life, of fertility, of Spring. The essential reawakening. The circle of seasons.

The secret weighs heavily.

But a goddess of Spring, is no mere goddess of Spring, your mother's voice echoes. A goddess of life, may as well wear a target on her back.

This morning, when the dew still refracts the light of the sun and birds are singing, no one comes. You sit alone, pruning, detangling, taming a pothos, encouraging its lovely green vine to live on its own. It protests, and you huff at it, conjuring slivers of magic, feeding it kernels as if you care for a child, trying to encourage it to eat.

“You must try, you know.” It curls around the back of your hand, lovely silver-white speckled leaves shimmering in the morning’s light. “You’re not staying here. The Greenhouse is full. I don’t have any more room.” The overcrowded shelves and carts agree, saplings and ivy and atropa belladonna all singing in unison, quivering voices rising in protest of the pothos’ weak effort. “See? You’ll make everyone unhappy.”

“You have a habit of talking to all your plants?” A musical voice chimes from the front door, and you jump from the stool, a book on your right clattering to the concrete.

“No, I…” Your voice fails, the woman in the doorway steps closer, allowing her mortal appearance to fall away, removing her Cloak and revealing her true identity.

The Moirai.

The Three who are One.

She turns her head to the east, a flash of the Maiden surveying your workbench, and then the Crone shines through, all faces eventually melding into one.

The Mother.

“Daughter of Demeter.” She inclines her head in greeting, and you blink rapidly.

“You...” What are they… is she, doing here? “You shouldn’t be here.” You swallow the fear that races in a cold rush under your skin. A frozen river runs in your bones, frigid rapids roaring, trapped beneath a thin sheet of ice, churning your power into a weapon of terror, an uncontrollable force that tries to build beneath the swell.

“Your mother is preoccupied.” She waves her hand; unease props the hair up on the back of your neck.

“What do you want?”

“To see you.” She strolls, careful, casual steps echoing off glass. “Finally, in the flesh.” The sh sound hisses, and your power pulses, pushing forward in preparation. “You are truly as lovely as they say, little Spring Goddess.”

“I’m not the Goddess of Spring.” You rebuke, and the resounding chuckle is dry wine, a tatter of bubbles that on her tongue that sours your stomach.

“You are not.” She nods. “No. You’re so much more now. You will be.” She steps closer, red lips perfectly lined and plump, pursed as she stares you down. “I’m satisfied.” She murmurs, and even though she looks right at you, it’s as if you’re not in the room.

Rain drops patter on glass panels.

“Pity.” She frowns, and then winks as a young woman, as an old one too, vanishing from sight with each step she takes to the door.

The clock ticks too loudly, and it feels like doom. Like a shattered mirror, shattered reflection, shattered life.

The Moirai have never visited you.

Why now?

Outside, a screech owl hoots, startling you backwards, a hand rocking down to the work bench in an effort to steady your trembling legs.

“Ouch!” you shriek, flipping your palm over, a pair of pruning shears dug into your skin, golden blood leaking out around their cool metallic points. “Fuck.” Your lips cover the puncture, tongue flicking against the rivulet of ichor.

The screech owl screams.

The throne room is silent. Darkness ebbs, inky webs slithering across the floor, shadowing the blood red stone that spills from the mouth of the dais, two identical, straight back chairs sitting proudly in the middle of the hall, dwarfed by columns stretching so tall Johnny swears they surpass the boundary of this realm. Their onyx marble shrouds Simon, who stands maskless, his hands clasped behind his back, peering into the pitch-black pool of liquid vibrating inside a silver bowl.

“Who is she?” There is a woman in the seeing glass. Beautiful, bright, an overflowing bouquet of narcissus, an endless melody of spring, the promise of early death. The greenhouse breathes in her presence, all nature of blooms and blossoms straining closer, desperate to be within fingertips reach. “A goddess?” He looks closer, and Simon’s amber laden eyes affix his, broad palm tenderly cupping Johnny’s cheek. His answer is a whisper, something unearthly and severe as they are: two Kings of the Underworld, two souls twisted together, two macabre fates made one. His words are a looming promise, a vow so ruinous Johnny knows the Moirai howl and the Lethe trembles.

“Our wife.”

#peaches writes #AIV(OFK)#ghoap x reader #hades ghoap #persephone reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader #Simon Riley #john soap mactavish

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violet-eng · 7 months

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Neuvillette and his arranged marriage with fem!reader - NSFW

Summary: so... Furina is such a gossipy and she's kinda boring so she wants Neuvillette to marry to some random girl that can be a challenge for him... would he like this traveler?

TW: smut. Has a plot. Kinda angst? p i v. Breeding kink, praising. Unprotected sex with this daddy judge. I think that's all... MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE JUST KEEP SCROLLING.

🎨: @zlidbhypy/@zljdbhypy

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

The judge had lived long enough to be carried away by appearances, his image in society was expected of a man with his profession, with his knowledge and his stature. However, in the eyes of Lady Furina, as much a lover of spectacle and scandal as possible, the great judge needed a slightly more modern image to present to the citizens of Fontaine-and perhaps to bring a little gossip as well.

The idea had consumed her so much that at the moment she met you she could think of nothing else but arranging an engagement with Monsieur Neuvillette. You were the living image of what she was looking for: a young woman of society, a foreigner with a wide knowledge of the vast continent and above all, ambitious.

There was a flash that Lady Furina highlighted in you, a furious soul difficult to tame, a challenge for the great judge. How fun it would be to see that: the distinguished gentleman try to control the disdain of his future wife, lover of saucers with spicy mixes, so friendly to those with vision Pyro... almost as contrary to him.

You met Neuvillette a day before the wedding, when Lady Furina had given him the wonderful news that he would marry you. He could not refuse, not the Archon, and she was aware of that-that made the matter more fun.

Neuvillette looked serene during the announcement, did not give the Archon the joy of a grimace of disgust... of course not, he was not like that...

On the wedding day rain fell so much as to drown the neighboring nations, tormenting those present of the ceremony. Monsieur Neuvillette was outside the compound, admiring the horizon, yearning for the freedom he possessed years before. To this had its existence been reduced? To be a puppet for the entertainment of the Archon? To tie himself for life to a woman he didn’t even know? If only he could return to his old form... spread his wings and get out of that place...

"The rain is wonderful," you exclaimed beside him, tearing from his chest an impression he managed to hide. "I hope the tears of the Hydro dragon are of happiness for the wedding and not of misery".

"They’re just legends, stories for children," he said, though an inch of him, deep down, was delighted by the idea that unlike the rest of Fontaine’s inhabitants, you didn’t dislike the rain... the one he was provoking...

"All legends have some truth in them," you whispered, giving him a sincere smile.

The ceremony had been short because of the rain, yet your happiness was overflowing. Your dress was drenched, your hair was alike... Everything was ruined, Lady Furina kept saying it, and yet you seemed to be living the best day of your life. Neuvillette could not look away from you at any moment, you had bewitched him, a single phrase had sufficed to achieve that...

The room was spacious, exquisitely decorated, illuminated to depth, the details and finishes seemed measured with hard effort... very much like the great judge. You had been unwise to ask if you had separate rooms, that had upset him for a moment... You certainly didn’t seem to have the same scruples as him.

You opened the window of the room, resting your elbows on the frame and sucking the dew that the rain brought with it. Neuvillette stood still in his place, looking at your figure, analyzing every detail of your silhouette, trying to perceive your essence, your energy... There was definitely something special about you.

"Can I come out?" you asked, were you asking permission?

"You must not ask for my consent to be free in the place" actually, he did not think it proper from you to ask permission for something… he perceived you from the first instant as a free being in tune with nature.

"It’s my way of asking you to go out with me to enjoy the rain," you said, approaching him and extending your hand.

The thick drops of water hit the roofs, the fountain of the courtyard was about to overflow with water, the surface covered of the leaves that the wind had brought with it. You got rid of your coat and your shoes, went into the fountain and sat in the middle, above the water level, your legs dipping, you picked up the dress on your knees. The fabric was thin, almost transparent now that you were soaked and uncovered. Neuvillette scanned the surroundings, hoping no one would look at you, you were his wife... was he jealous? No, it was a simple sense of duty now that he was a married man...

"Come closer" you said from your position, pointing your finger at the place in front of you. Neuvillette, almost hypnotized by your loud attitude, dragged his feet towards your spot, sitting across from you, likewise, his legs underwater. The familiarity of the rain on the current that had formed under his feet was pleasant, almost satisfactory, so much so that it incited him to move his hands on the surface of the water, forming figures that allowed his hydro vision. You smiled at the small spectacle he displayed for you, admiring the sublime movement of his hands, the way his fingers flexed on the leaves and the drops of water ran down his hands.

You leaned toward him, taking him by surprise, joining your lips with his. He did not turn away, but, on the contrary, he dropped his hand against your neck, drawing you closer to him, tasting the nectar of your lips and your tongue.

"I want something to be clear" you dictated separating yourself from him, "we’ll have children... not because the charlatan Archon wants it for her entertainment, no... we will have children because we both want it, it was clear?".

For all the Archons... those words coming out of your mouth, pure poison, so hostile to the Archon, calling her in a way that he could never, with your face framed by your soaked locks and your lips swollen by the kiss... There was nothing he could want but a woman like you.

The matter of your affinity for the falling flood, added to your folly of calling the archon such a derogatory name... you were an interesting, exceptional creature whose behavior went beyond his control and knowledge. You were a challenge... his challenge... and his enthusiasm grew in his chest as well as in his pants.

You had both returned to the room in sultry form, between kisses and gasps, getting rid of your clothes on the way. He cornered you on the wall of the entrance, his hand in fist resting above your head, his forehead against yours, the other hand holding your chin, joining his eyes. Neuvillette’s chest rose strongly, seeking air, bewildered by the growing ecstasy, the desire among you that was born.

Taking you by the waist, he turned you against the wall, your face crashing against the cold marble and your palms resting at your sides. You felt his breathing on your neck, his chest against your back, his hands sliding over your curves, right to your hips, over your panties. You let out a soft moan as you felt the fabric slip under your legs and fall to your ankles.

"Monsieur..." you whispered trembling as the cold pouring through the room brushed your thighs and bare ass.

"You don’t look as bold as you did a few minutes ago," he whispered... low, almost growling, you swore he was smiling, you sensed it in his voice.

"It’s... just... ah~" you cut the phrase in half when you felt him slip into you, separating your folds, forcing you to suck it. Your hands in fist, your hips rising, trying to avoid its passage inside you, your shoulders gathering at the sensation that flooded your center, your sex.

"Monsieur~" you moaned, your forehead wet against the marble, your hands scratching the wall looking for something to soothe the burning between your legs, the feeling of its length between your damp walls.

You didn’t think the judge would be so vocal. When he slipped into you, he grunted, so pleasantly your legs seemed to melt. You felt the breath of his groan in your ear, your name coming from his lips.

"So soft" he whispered, resting his hands on yours, his forehead on your shoulder, "so tight..." continued advancing, rising to the bottom, "so mine"...

Neuvillette fucked you against that wall as if he was in heat-and perhaps he was-as if you were going to escape at any time from his grip, though you couldn’t.

The moans and gasps were embarrassing, thanks to the rain they did not cross the walls, the sound of wet skin crashing during each penetration was burning, lustful. The words that came out of the judge’s mouth every time you girded your limb were a sea of incongruities, just as the phrases that your mouth dropped when he caressed your clitoris, that little lump had become his favorite toy.

The onslaught was strong, your breasts pounding against the wall every time he burst into you, rubbing against your delicate interior, which seemed made for him.

"You take me so well," he groaned, as he continued his beat against you, your breasts rising and falling down the wall. You were trapped between the wall and the monster of pleasure the judge had become.

"I will fill you with my seed, I swear..." he gasped again, his voice raspy, with flashes of hunger and lust.

"Neuvillette~" you let out a high-pitched moan, had touched your point, that felt so fucking good, the way he arched to hit that gummy dot on your cervix. He kept going, and kept going, you didn’t want him to stop. Fuck, he was so good at it, who’d say a gentleman of his countenance could be taking you like an animal in heat.

He kept hitting that delicious spot inside you, stroking your sensitive organ, one, two... three times, you suddenly felt a knot forming in your belly.

"Oh my~... don’t stop Neuvillette~..." you begged, eyes closed, lips separated by groans. The sound of his gasps flooding your eardrum... you both were close…

His onslaught lost rhythm, the intensity was almost unbearable, he came out one last time to get into you, fucking you so hard that you felt your orgasm burst and you let out a scream. He would not take long to reach his climax similarly, unloading all his seed inside you

The bed was warm, you needed it after what happened... Neuvillette lay beside you, caressing your cheek, watching the way you fell asleep.

He looked out the window, the rain had stopped. He was completely happy... so long ago that he did not feel the fullness he had at the time...

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, curling your head in his chest, feeling the warmth of your gentle breathing. He closed his eyes, falling asleep beside you, yearning to tell you one day about his identity... someday…

#genshin smut #genshin #genshin impact #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette smut #genshin impact smut #smut

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carbonateddelusion · 8 months

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have a redraw of an image from... 2222019 or 2018, I think? this song is VERY strongly Jack vibes.

plus the ask that prompted the redraw:

#redraw #old art redraw #art #artists on tumblr #oc #my oc #not my oc #popping off #beanie dew #oc: jack #modern au #modern dew #modern jack #1. jack gold tooth canon it just changes places depending on the version of jack #2. yes them wearing no seatbelts was intentional. they're not exactly known for being smart

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bitchimasnake-sss · 2 months

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tryin' his best ft. roronoa zoro!

i am once again thinking about zoro as a clueless boyfriend, completely new to the dating scene. no imagine, just imagine with me 😳😳

[modern au; zoro is a martial artist]

dont talk to me, im too busy thinking about the roronoa zoro as a confused husband boyfriend🤭 like can you imagine? the greatest martial artist of all time, the beast, the demon, the lord of the underworld. and yet, when you say, "i'm so tired, babe", he stands in all his 5'11 ft glory and goes blank. blank.

roronoa zoro was the sweetest man alive but holy fucking shit he was such an idiot clueless. for the past few days or so, the man had witnessed first hand how tired you were. your eyes were puffy, face dull and spirit broken. all those meetings at work; the relentless late-night calls, stay-backs and what nots had left you a mere husk of the woman you usually were. and so, he had decided to try his best to make sure his failing actions could comfort you when his words couldn't. and that started the chronicles of roronoa zoro's day of fuck-ups.

💚 zoro can't cook for shit. he knows that, you know that and your neighbour sanji (who is a chef by profession) knows that too. and yet one of these mornings, while the dew still clung helplessly onto the green leaves, he had gotten up and slipped into the kitchen. his plan was to surprise you with some breakfast. nothing too extravagant, maybe some easy mix pancakes? but all those plans came burning down when you were awoken with a shrill crash. hair knotted, face puffy, shirt slipping off of your shoulders and the first thing you see in the morning is zoro standing with flour on his chest and on the floor. and there lay an upside down steel bowl on the floor at the edge of his feet. "zoro?" you mumbled sleepily, assessing the damage, "what are you even upto? it's seven on a sunday." "yn- uh, you go back to sleep-i'll deal with this mess." if he was trying to appear nonchalant, he was failing. his eyes were blown out, forehead creased, lips pursed as if he had committed the worst atrocity mankind had witnessed. in a way, he had. he knew it was a sunday. he also knew it was your only day off so you should have been sleeping in instead of picking after his dumbass in the kitchen. "zoro?" you asked again but he refused to say anything more. when you gave him a look of steel, the moss-head carefully avoided your gaze before sheepishly admitting, "sorry. i was trying to figure out how to make you some pancakes." your gaze softened, "were you? that's so sweet of you, zo." you walked towards him, careful as to not step on the mess. your casual touched dusted off the flour from his navy shirt that had he slept in. once you were satisfied with the state of the shirt, you had resorted to an honest smile, "come on, let's clean this up first, yeah?" "but you should sleep-" "babe- with all due respect- if i leave you to clean this, i think you will set the kitchen on fire"

💚 on his next attempt to cheer you up in the afternoon, he planned on giving you a massage. you both had been dating a good few months and he had certainly touched you in more ways than just hand-holding but... this was new. he had never really done this for anyone before and so, what if you hated it or he did it wrong? but the man had put all his wayward thoughts aside. maybe his hands could knead away the stress from your aching muscles where his words failed to comfort you? and so, the bed dipped next to you as he came and sat down. you were lying on your stomach, scrolling on your phone. his fingers lightly skimmed your back and you jolted involuntarily at the intrusive touch. looking back, you muttered, "zoro? baby?" "just um, try to relax okay?" his palm flattened against your back. he applied some force, moving his hands up and down against your tank top, kneading the flesh underneath. you seemed to melt under his earnest touches, allowing your muscles to go slack under him. dropping your phone on the bed, you carefully had tucked your head under your arms and then, you yelped, "zoRO-" "yeah?!" he stopped all movements, panicked at your sudden reaction. "it hurt." you gave him a pained look before sighing, "you put too much force, babe." "did i? sorry" he chewed on the inside of his cheek, "sorry, really. do you want me to try again?" you gave him a kind smile before tucking your head back in under your arms and stuffing your face against the pillow. "it's okay, i am just gonna lay down for a while okay?"

💚 as truly a last resort, he called up nami and told her his problem (all grumbling and shit). after the red-head had laughed for five minutes at the martial artist's inculpabilities, she finally decided to help. she pondered for a second, staring at the screen intensely before saying "i dunno? me and vivi usually get like our favourite take out and just re-watch a comfort movie. it's pretty cozy and an easy way to deal with the general stress of life, you know?" "should i do that?" zoro mumbled, resting his head against the headrest of his car. he sighed, "did she tell you anything else if it's been bothering her? other than work i mean?" "she didn't say it out loud but having you as a boyfriend must be a pain in the ass anyways." "has anyone told you you're a royal bitch?" the words were harsh but his lips were pressed into a easy smile. "hah, yeah they have. but anyways, aren't you her boyfriend?" nami snapped back although she sported a smile of her own, "shouldn't you know what you should be doing to cheer her up? honestly she doesn't deserve an idiot like you." "hey, i've had a rough day okay? lay off of me." zoro bit back. "fine, whatever. just surprise her. i am sure she'd like it."

💚 and so, roronoa zoro's final mission had begun. he had picked up your favourite food from the chinese restaurant that you always ordered from. he had picked up a huge bouquet of flowers. and he had picked up a chocolate cake as desert. on the ride back home, he had even thought about what movie you both would watch. yes. yes. there's no way he could fuck it up now. he was ready to do his best. he opened the door with a wobbling right hand while his left held onto all the things. the cake carton was perched on his fingers, the takeout on another two fingers, the bouquet tucked between his bicep and chest. he wouldn't lie. it was a struggle to get everything in in one trip (especially with his level of patience when it comes to small, annoying things like this.) but it was all for you, so, it had to be worth it. tumbling in, he set everything on the coffee table in front of your tv. and then, he walked into the bedroom where you lay sleeping in the same position he had left you in the afternoon. it had been over three hours and you hadn't stirred even one inch. god, how tired were you? slowly closing the door behind him, he stepped back into the living room.

💚 your eyes were hazy and throat unusually dry when you stepped into the living room. your muscles were somehow even more tired and you were sure your body, mind and soul were incapable of doing anything but curling up and falling asleep again. on instinct, you searched for your boyfriend. "zoro?" you squinted at the man in front of you as he was in the process of setting down food on the table. and looking around, you noticed the huge bouquet perched on the sofa. "hey-" he turned towards you wide-eyed as if you had caught him doing something wrong, "uh- hi? hey? you're up already?" "whatcha doing? what's that?" you mumbled as you walked over to him, still not processing reality. as you stared down at the table, you wondered aloud, "food?" he sighed, defeated, "yeah." your brain fog cleared up and you looked up at his blushing face wide-eyed, "wait! you bought me food?" you turned on your heel to look at the bouquet and picked it up, "and this?" rubbing the back of his neck, he looked away from you, "it was actually meant to be a surprise cause i thought you were sleeping. but-" "zoroo!!" you practically lunged at him. your hands closed in around him as you rested your head against his well-built chest. hearing his quickened heart-beat, you eased even more against his familiar, scorching skin. you buried your face even deeper against him, "thank you!" his fingers danced over your scalp. his husky voiced was accompanied by calculated strumming of his finger over your hair, "i am sorry, it was meant to be a surprise, really." you pulled away from him to look at him in disbelief, "why are you sorry?!" he swallowed thickly, eyes scattering away from yours, "because- i dunno, i suck as a boyfriend?" he winced at his admission but continued nonetheless, "i tried making you breakfast, ruined it. i tried giving you a massage, ruined that too. i tried to set up a surprise date and fucked that shit up too." "zo." your fingers are delicate against his cheek, bringing his eyes back to yours. you gave him a small smile, "you tried. for me. that's what matters." although a smile blossomed on his lips, he washed it away with another sigh, "you're just saying that 'cause you don't wanna admit i'm a fuck-up in the boyfriend category." you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, "i am saying this because i love you. and you make me feel loved." "really?" you laughed, "i mean your massaging skills can use a bit of work but... yeah, other than that you're good. really." "i'm glad me being an idiot is endearing to you." he gave you a grin, "so, wanna eat? i'm kinda hungry." "yesss!!" you mirrored his smile. you paused for a second then wondered aloud, "you know what? i think i'm gonna call in sick tomorrow. we can hang out, just you and me." "oh, really?" he scrunched his nose up as if in deep thought, "then we gotta celebrate. you know there's cake in the fridge." "OMG I LOVE YOU!!" so, yeah, roronoa zoro might be kind of an idiot. but he was your idiot.

i wanna take domestic zoro and trap him in a bottle. i wanna just keep him like that. i really liked how this turned out lol. hope you guys did too <3

#one piece #opla #op #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #zoro fluff #one piece fluff #zoro imagine #roronoa zoro x reader

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