#<— blood player if anon talks again

[insufferable-talkstuck]

hey callie (if that's your name), i hope you don't mind me submitting an entire essay of sorts so that you could, you know, classpect me. i've seen the stuff you've been posting here on this blog of yours, and i can't help but like it. so uhhh, let the trauma dumping begin, i guess? i'll try not to take this too far, so i'll give you something more palatable to read. if i do, feel free to call me out for it like you did over mentions of politics that other people did.

so...how would i describe myself as a person?

dude, i wish you had a format like a list of questions or something. is this dumb for me to complain about because by being this open-ended, you're giving other people the choice to say what they want to, with those choices ultimately providing a subtle kind of information that may or may not make your readings/analyses more accurate? probably. am i going to complain about it anyway? well, i just did, even though i'm not usually one to actively complain. that translates to absolutely, by the way. all this text is just a transcript for my thoughts while writing this. no wonder this has gotten out of hand so quickly. but look on the bright side: there's more for you to analyse. fuck yeah to that. :)

back to the question: one thing i can say about myself is that i go on tangents and can get sidetracked easily (see the above paragraph for explicit proof). i'm also a very secretive person, especially in regards to my problems and my inner world. when it comes to that, i can't help but feel like i understand them better than how the external world works. to compensate for this lack of understanding, i tend to, figuratively speaking, wear different hats depending on the situation. usually, im quiet and lay low as i keep an eye on what goes on around me, which i attempt to grasp by myself. other times, i do the exact opposite when i feel like i'm supposed to, mostly in attempts to get others to like me. i'm either too much or too little for the people around me to deal with. hell, i guess i could say i'm wearing a different hat right now through the way i'm typing in this ask, and that's mostly because i'm that fucking terrified of being able to be identified via typing style alone even if i'm anonymous. a person's gotta cover their tracks while admitting personal shit, you know?

so to cope with the fact that i find it hard to make friends due to all this, i've gotten used to isolating myself and being self-reliant, to the point where i straight up pretend to be stoic, cold, and boring to talk to out of well, a lot of things. these things include how i'm constantly terrified of social interaction, i'm afraid of hurting other people through whatever shitty choices and words i decide to make or say, and i can't help but feel worthless all the goddamn time. it even goes to the point where i tell myself that i should be so proud to be so "independent and badass" as a motivator to keep getting away with this despite having this deep, contradictory craving to have meaningful interpersonal relationships in my life, which i tell myself is stupid and that any attempts i make at it are bound to be a waste of time and effort to avoid dealing with it all together. and i suppose that also makes me a hypocrite by default. that's a big yikes on my part.

i also guess that according to some people i used to know, there's a side of me that can be best described as sassy, blunt, with a disposition of innocence and sunshine. i mean, i'm probably being incredibly sassy while typing this all out, aren't i? (which is intentional) if you find it hilarious (like some of my friends did), then i'm glad to hear that the interspersed shenanigans i've been pulling as i prose on endlessly about my flaws have made someone laugh. however, i don't fully buy my sunny, pure disposition as part of who i am as i can't help but feel that only developed as a way to avoid conflict, especially by preventing any sign of my problems and stress from leaking into the day-to-day conversations i had with them at the time. however, there were occasions where both my positive and/or negative emotions got so overwhelming to deal with that i accidentally snapped in front of them. even though i try to prevent those kinds of occasions from happening at all, i regret every single time i lose my composure like that without meaning to due to how i felt rejected every time i did that. and well, in my eyes, rejection scares the everloving shit out of me as well.

i've also been described as a "robot" and a "cryptid" on previous occasions and well, i don't entirely know how to feel about those kinds of descriptors. but i'm not complaining about it because being any of those things sounds badass to me when trying to be positive about it.

so yeah, i'd say that im a person that's damn good at usually playing the role of a stone-cold, sassy hardass with nothing interesting to offer beyond that while wishing it were the truth.

and well, i feel like i've talked enough about myself to feel the need to not mention anything else, so that's where i'll end this. like, i'm usually private about my interests, especially the ones i'm the most emotionally invested im (which can go to the point where I lie about them out of embarassment) and my aspriations in life are something along the lines of "i want to do all this cool shit, but i realistically don't have the energy for all that and worrying about what other people need from me is more important anyway."

hope you got something out of all of this. it was nice for me to type it out, even if all i did was talk about myself. but that's the point, right? and hopefully, i don't regret saying any of this. sorry if this was a long one to read, i hope that doesn't bother you too much.

Witch of heart

my name is Calliope, on this blog, nicknames are appreciated tho i find them sweet.

ah hem, you must excuse me, i am a little rusty, for i have not classpected in a while. But i "tried" my "best" here so take it however you will

you managed to talk about yourself while also avoiding talking about yourself. people majorly view themselves as.. a collection of titles, a community they're members in, interests, morals and their overall attitude twords the world. but you only talked about personality, which is certainly a rare case. No music or art that you're into? do you sit infront of a mirror all day and pass your time on..... self reflection ? you did say your interests are private so, maybe they're too private for even the classpect blog to know. how sad

i assigned you a witch of heart because, you're certainly a steriotypical heart player, from the way you're speaking. i do think I could manage assigning you a blood player with more information... perhaps hit my inbox again soon.

i struggled a bit for the class but then it was obvious, you change heart, you manipulate it to your given situation you put on a... hat. ( why did you say a hat of all things? )

✷ sometimes i add in a little bonus when the answer is too short, my guilt is practically eating me alive for responding with such a short classpecting sesh to such a big ask, but you did use a whole bunch of words to talk about nothing so, not exactly in my pay range to fix my reply, I will say i think you're the first person I don't think I could find a moon for, you could go either side but not in the sollux way, just in the: I think it took you way too long to wake up way

[azsazz]

Brr-eakdown

Hockey Player!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: I love love LOVE your Hockey!Azriel x Ice skater reader series! So good! 😍 I just read the one where Azriel gets in a fight on the ice and the reader is worried about him getting hurt and I can just imagine how upset Azriel would be if it was the opposite and you didn’t hit the landing or something during practice on the ice and you end up in the ER and everyone’s talking about how there was so much blood so Az is worried and trying to get to you and he wants to punch something so bad while he’s waiting to hear about your condition but there’s no one to fight. He’s so soft and takes care of you while you get better though ❤️🥹 (I need a hockey player Azriel in real life asap… seriously thank you for bringing him to life ❤️)

Warnings: Mentions of an accident (reader falls and cracks her head open) and blood.

Word Count: 1,475

Notes: Okay, I didn't quite hit everything, but hopefully I did it justice with what I was able to add 💙

_________________________________________

“Again,” your coach demands, and you want to melt into a puddle of tears.

Your limbs are aching, legs quivering from practicing the same jump over and over and over again, but you still haven’t mastered it and the championship is only three weeks away. If you don’t land this trick during your routine, you’re never going to nationals.

“I can’t, Coach,” you pant, graciously accepting the water bottle she passes you. Coach Weaver is the most decorated figure skating trainer in the country, and not only is it a privilege for her to be an employee at your university, but to be working on your solo routine with her is an opportunity not many receive. “My legs are shot for the day.”

The water is crisp and fresh on your tongue, wetting your parched throat. If you focus on that, you’re almost able to forget about the quivering muscles of your legs from so many attempted—and failed—jumps today. You’ve been running your routine for the past hour and for once, you’re saddened by the lack of presence from the university’s hockey team, who are usually bombarding your ice time by now, you notice as you peek at the clock on the timeboard pinned to the side of the stadium.

“If you want to make it to nationals this year, you need to spend all of your free time practicing, not chasing around those hockey players,” Coach Weaver says. She doesn’t look up from her phone, eyes glued to the most recent video of one of your many unsuccessful runs. Her eyes are narrowed, scrutinizing, and all you want right now is for her phone to run out of battery. “Are you doing enough core work on your time out of practice?” She finally lifts that inspecting gaze to your stomach and it makes you want to squirm. “Your edge work could use some practice, too. Your control isn’t nearly as strong as it should be.” 

Again, because my legs feel like fucking jello, you think sourly, clenching your teeth. You don’t respond. It’s futile, anyway. All Coach Weaver would do is come back at you with another demand, wondering why you seem to have so many excuses, and you can do without today. 

“Yes, Coach,” you agree, because it’ll be the quickest way to get you out of here. All you want to do is collapse on your couch with some much needed dinner and kick your feet up into Azriel’s lap, praying for a massage. You’ll beg if you have to, but there’s no way you can get down on your knees for him tonight. No, it’s pillow princess night for you, if you don’t fall asleep on the couch first.

“Run it again,” Coach Weaver says, straying away from nitpicking you. “And make sure that air position is tight this time, I don’t want a hair out of place.” 

Spoke too soon.

There’s no point in arguing, even if you know there’s no possible way you’re going to be able to land this jump today. Coach won’t quit until you’re unable to move, until she sees that you’ve had enough. 

Other skaters whiz by and you envy them. A girl and her partner glide past looking like two graceful gazelles, and in an intricate jumble of limbs, he throws her into the air, catching her, and they spin in tight circles, quicker than your eye can follow. 

Maybe you should’ve done partnered skating instead.

“Let’s go,” Coach barks. She’s looking at her watch like she has some place to be, which you know is untrue because of the rumors you’ve heard the other skaters whispering about her. How she drove off her second husband the same way she did the first, how all she has at home is a bottle of rum and a karaoke machine. 

You quickly take position, and then you’re off. You try to clear your mind of all of your earlier attempts but your legs are screaming in protest. You press your lips together, gaining speed, making sure your edges are set and your core is tight.

You don’t even notice Azriel sneaking into the rink. Well, he’s not sneaking, because he’s been in here more times in the past few years at college than you have. He catches you as you glide past, a determined look to your eye that makes his chest tight with pride.

You lift, spin once, twice, and it’s euphoric. Surely, you must almost have it this time. Something blooms warm in your chest, but halfway through your third rotation everything comes crashing down. You nearly would have had it that time, if your lethargic leg didn’t give out as soon as your blade makes contact with the ice again. 

You don’t have time to scream, to brace as you come smashing into the ice with the force of a bull.

The sound of your skull cracking against the ice rings through the arena, silencing everyone except for the distressed shout of your name that follows you into the blackness.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Oh my Gods,” Azriel sighs in relief. His brows are furrowed deeply, the same frown you’ve come to know and love deeper, more sad as he stares at you in relief. His fingers tighten around yours and you squeeze back gently, blinking groggily. “Thank fuck you’re awake, sweetheart.” 

“What happened?” You ask, but you don’t know why. You remember everything clearly, up until you slipped into the ice. You remember Coach Weaver demanding you try your trick again, despite your protests not to. You remember feeling confident in the air, even though your legs were an aching pile of muscle that gave out with your landing. From then, it’s all fuzzy. All you know is that Azriel was there. He still is.

“You didn’t land your fall,” he explains wearily, like he’s not sure he should be the one explaining this. Fuck it, he doesn’t care. You’re here and you’re hurt, but you’re okay. You’re going to be. Azriel will see to it himself. “Your body  just crumpled, sweetheart, and you—” He takes a shuddering breath that has you reaching out to caress his cheek. He leans into your touch, kissing your palm before continuing the haunting story. “You hit your head. There was blood everywhere. Please, don’t ever scare me like that again.”

You groan in response, reluctantly removing your hand from the warm skin of your boyfriend, reaching up to finger at the bandages wrapped around your head. You grimace at the thought of what you must look like right now, worse for wear.

Azriel gently takes your hand, removing it from where you’re still poking at your head, trying to find the wound. You don’t feel anything, probably because of the numbing the doctors used when fixing you up. 

You suspect you’re not going to feel all that great later.

“You have five staples in your head,” Azriel answers your unspoken question. If it will keep you from dislodging your bandage, he’ll tell you what you want to know.

You hum softly. “What did Coach say?”

You don’t miss the way Azriel clenches his teeth. “She called the ambulance. She actually insisted that she be the one to ride with you but I shut that down right fucking quick,” he spits, and he’s getting all worked up again. It was hard seeing you fall, his stomach dropping to the floor, but once he saw the blood weeping from your skull, he’d only seen red.

Your shoulders sag. It’s a relief that she isn’t here right now, though a part of you wants to shove this in her face. Hopefully, it will be the last time she ignores her student’s limits.

Leaning your head back against the pillow propped behind you, you ask the question you’re dreading. Swallowing harshly, you inquire, “How long am I going to be off ice?”

Your boyfriend is silent for a long moment, two. It makes your heart twist in your chest, bracing for the terrible news.

“Doc says you’re out for two weeks,” Azriel says, brushing his lips across your knuckles in an apologetic manner. He knows how much skating means to you, and hates to be the one to break the news to you, but he’d rather be the one doing it than you having to hear it from the doctor.

“Two weeks?” you exclaim, eyes nearly bugging out of your head. You wince at the sudden movement and when the roaring of your voice makes your headache. Maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea, but there’s only three weeks until the championship, and if you aren’t able to land your trick within one week returning to the ice, your entire season is fucked.

Azriel cringes, and the bad news isn’t over yet. “Minimum.” 

And your season is officially down the drain.

_________________________________________

Hockey!AU Tag (will be tagged for any hockey fic, no matter paring):

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @blackthorngirl @i-am-infinite @feerique @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke

[mack-devereaux]

Hiii i wanna ask if ya can write something with Vince? Maybe him getting into a fight (so hot i love it) and hin hurting his wrist are something? And reader taking care of him afterwards. Plleeaassee

Vince Dunn

Omg this is my first request!! I’m so sorry it took so long! Also check out my other fic about Vince. I think they have a similar vibe. But This has no relation to that one. I had so much fun writing this. Just a reminder this is a work of fiction and my imagination, this is not based on true events. Thank you to the anon who requested!

Picture is from Pinterest, no triggers except for cursing and mentions of blood. I think that’s it! Enjoy!

When Vince first moved to Seattle he was excited. This was a brand new team and he had more opportunities to make a name for himself as one of the more aggressive defensemen in the NHL. He had always had a temper on the ice, even in his early days in high school and in the OHL, and he was good at running his mouth. He was always respectful to the medical training staff and the coaching staff, he never took his anger or frustration out on the people who helped him get back on the ice.

Did he cause the fights on purpose? Maybe.

Was he mad about being hauled into the cute medical trainers office to get patched up? Absolutely not. He enjoyed talking with y/n and getting to know her a bit better.

Did he cause fights just to see her? No, he truly has a passion for the sport, he just sometimes got a little too involved with the banter sometimes. However a perk to all this was those few minutes alone with y/n. Although she never really spoke to him much outside of work and was always very quiet he knew how passionate she was about her job. No matter what she was always so attentive to the injury and informative about what she was doing to help said injured player.

Y/n loved the energy of the home games, she typically didn’t get to travel very much with the team, only to close games, but something about the atmosphere of home games had her just buzzing with energy. Most of the time she got to watch the game from the tunnels, it was the perfect spot to see most of the game and it was easy to drag injured players back to the locker room to tend to the injuries. Tonight’s game was a home game against the Colorado Avalanche again, a team known to get the Kraken a little riled up. Just the week prior Vince had gotten himself into quite the scrum and ended up with a cut on his nose while playing against the Avalanche.

*flashback to a week prior*

Y/n was sitting in the medical room at Ball Arena, going through the medical kits organizing some of the supplies. She had heard the roar of the crowd and immediately knew there was a fight that happened. Shortly after that, the third period had ended. Hearing the players stomping down the tunnel shouting and cheering she already knew who was headed her direction.

“Vince..” y/n sighed pulling all her medical supplies back out.

“Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me” Vince chirped at the girl.

“You’re gonna have some serious damage to your nose if you don’t stop” y/n said as she was washing her hands and throwing her gloves on “I’m surprised you don’t have a permanent scar from how many times I’ve seen it busted”.

“That just means you are doing a great job babe. I’ve got you to thank for keeping me looking good” Vince smiles.

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned around trying to hide her blush. Knowing this was the exact reason as to why she fell for him. He was just so charming. He knew exactly what to say and that’s why she could never date him. That and the fact that she technically worked for the same organization as him. Were they coworkers? No, but surely it was still frowned upon. At least that’s what she told herself anyway. As she was cleaning off the blood from his nose she caught herself admiring him. He truly was one of the most beautiful people she’s ever laid eyes on. Once the bleeding stopped she checked for other injuries, and sent him to be with the rest of the team.

“Promise me you’ll keep out of trouble for at least the next week” she called to him as he walked away.

“For you? Never.” He added with a wink.

*present*

Five minutes left in the third period and y/n had gotten to watch maybe 10 minutes total of the game. Partially because she didn’t like seeing Vince fight much, and because the players definitely kept her busy. This was probably the most bloody noses and knuckles she had tended to in her entire career. Normally the crowd goes crazy and encourages fights, and she definitely enjoyed that. But for some reason she couldn’t stomach seeing Vince getting hurt. I guess she had Cupids arrow to thank for that. After a few more minutes gloves went flying, curse words were being yelled and the crowd went wild. Reluctantly she looked over in front of the players bench and Vince had thrown a Colorado player on his back.

“Oh for fucks sake Vince” she muttered under her breath.

“You got him or do you want me to take care of him this time” the head medical trainer asked y/n chuckling and shaking his head.

Y/n looked across the ice as Vince and the Avalanche player got tossed in their respective sin bins, she sees that Vince has his helmet off and is holding his wrist.

“I think he hurt his wrist, do you see him messing with it?” y/n points to Vince.

“I’ll take a look when we get back there but I’m sure he’s fine. I think you can handle it after that” the trainer says as they walk back to the locker room.

After the game y/n was in her office waiting for Vince, it had been nearly 40 minutes since the game ended. What was taking him so long? She knew Coach had told him to stop by after their after game meetings and interviews. While she was waiting she decided to tidy up and clean a bit. As she was cleaning her desk she found the puck that Vince had signed and gave to her earlier that year.

*flashback to late last season*

Y/n was standing behind the players bench. It was the last home game for the season, then they were headed into playoffs. Looking onto the ice she watched the players warm up and interact with fans. Vince was watching y/n as he was skating in circles, getting a boost of confidence he picked up a puck and signed it with a note. Smirking he passed by and shouted “hey y/n! Catch!”

Panicking y/n shot both of her hands in front of her face as the head medical trainer caught the puck before it smacked her in the face.

“Really Dunn?!” Y/n shouted.

Vince grinned and skated off, shaking her head she looked at the puck she noticed it said “hey pretty girl” with his signature. Blushing she shoved it in her pocket before she could get scolded.

“Oh he’s so got it bad for you” the trainer said.

“Leave the chirping to the players would you” y/n muttered “besides it’s not like I can date him anyway.”

“Technically…”

“Don’t tempt me” y/n sighed “my heart can’t handle the heartbreak that comes with that one.” She continued to watch him skate around and talk to his teammates with a huge smile on his face.

*back to present*

Y/n smiled at the memory. Not knowing she wasn’t alone, because of course Vince would walk in at that very moment. Leaning up against the doorframe Vince coughed snapping her back to reality.

“My God Vince, now you choose to be quiet? You scared me” y/n shoved the puck back into the drawer.

“I’ll make sure to knock next time” he softly smiled. He totally saw that she still had the puck and it definitely boosted his ego.

“Let me see your wrist” y/n said.

“It’s fine” he muttered.

“If it’s fine let me double check then” y/n challenged.

Vince walked over and sat down on the bench in her office, while reluctantly holding his wrist out. He watched her face as she examined his wrist.

“I think if we wrap it for tonight and tomorrow you should be fine, but the swelling needs to go down significantly before you play again. I’ll clear you for practice but you have to be easy on your arm for the next few days” y/n said as she was grabbing the necessary supplies.

“Thank you for taking care of me y/n, I’m sorry for fighting” Vince whispered.

She smiled at him as she sat down and started wrapping his wrist. Knowing full well that he was watching her face closely the entire time.

“I’ll walk you to your car” Vince said.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you” y/n said as she turned back to him after putting the supplies away. With yet another boost of confidence Vince grabbed her by the waist and pulled her face to his and kissed her, she immediately kissed him back. The kiss was short and sweet. Electricity shot through her body and she felt as if she was on fire. After pulling away y/n whispered “we should go.” Neither of them saying anything as they left the arena. Vince was feeling defeated for the first time in a long time, why hadn’t she said anything? Did he over step? Did he make her uncomfortable? A million more discouraging thoughts ran through his head. Him not knowing she was in shock and on cloud nine all at once. Y/n unlocked her car and opened the door. Before she got in she turned to Vince and pulled his face to hers and slammed her lips onto his. Vince cockily smiled into he kiss and pulled her into him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. After a few minutes they both pulled away, breathing heavy and trying to get as close as possible to each other.

“Thank you for walking me to my car Vince.”

“Let me know when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[bitchimasnake-sss]

hiii this is the anon that requested part two and i return begging for part three of tennis! zoro.

ahem.

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

thanks for coming to my tedtalk! :)

in all seriousness though i would love to see a part 3 and definitely think you should have an ao3 to post longer content!! please keep up your lovely writing 💋💋 (MAKE ZORO REALLY WORK FOR IT HEHEHEHE [i was sobbing over how cute his little offerings were AND FALLING ASLEEP AT THE DOOR i cant])

UR THE ONLY ONE KEEPING ME GOING GIRLY 🎀😞. SO GLADDD YOU LIKED THAT ONE, HERE HAVE THIS ONE NOWWW. ILL MAKE ZORO EXTRAA PATHETIC FOR YOU MWUAH😚

bitchimasnake-sss presents: the one piece AUs

03. AITA for going back to my ex? ft. roronoa zoro!

set-up: part 03 [FINAL PART] to my badminton player!zoro au lol. you can find the first two parts here! (i recommend you read those first!) getting your heart broken when you were seventeen was inevitable, getting it broken on camera seven years later was also inevitable, it seems. but letting your ex back into your life with the glittering promises of "i'll win you back in a month?" was getting your heart broken again and again and again also inevitable? most importantly: was roronoa zoro worth your sanity? warnings: dumb people, even dumber plot by me! includes angst towards the end, zoro is an idiot trying his best to win you over! cameos by nami, sanji, perona and mihawk because i love writing them tysm. and obviously smut (hehe u nasty). nsfw thoughts include: feral!zoro. this man is nasty, he likes blood, sweat and tears. a lot of overstimulation, a little bit of bimbofication, hints of dub!con, car-sex, penetration, teasing, dirty talk, a little bit of feral!zor. OKAY THAT'S IT!! MINORS DNI OR I WILL HUNT YOU! wc: 10.6k m.list

17th of october 11:43 p.m.

"really?" and you could hear sanji drop his precious cigarette onto the ground in pure, unaltered shock, "are you toying with me right now, love?"

"no." you replied firmly, nimble fingers getting caught against familiar, green locks as roronoa zoro pressed honeyed lips to your stomach. he trailed downwards, uncaring as your manager spluttered on the speaker.

"you are actually dating that green-haired freak?" from his tone alone, you could imagine sanji to look wide-eyed and tongue-tied. meeting the eyes of the said “green haired freak”, you found a sour expression plastered to his handsome features.

"no... well, not yet.” you swiped your fingers against his scalp, manicured fingers softly scratching the frown on his face away, “we're on a one-month trial phase."

"are you and him a netflix subscription, mon amore? what do you mean one month?" the blonde hissed. but you were far too gone, too warped within the feeling of the athlete’s soft kisses on your hiked-up thighs to even offer a hairsbreadth of attention to your critic.

"well–" as the sportsman hands trailed over your thighs all-too-intimately, you found yourself sighing blissfully, "he said he wants a month to win me back.”

“that is insane.”

“maybe. but his time starts today, so, we have until 17th of november to come to some sort of conclusion." zoro didn’t dare still against your soft skin. kneading the fat of your hips, pressing hot kisses to thighs and nipping at fading bruises to renew them. but you tightened your grip on his locks, tipping his head backwards as you pulled on them. glaring at him, you breathed out a warning, “either he cleans his act up, or i leave him in the dust."

but who was roronoa zoro if not the man made to get on your nerves?

his mouth fell agape as his eyes met yours, and a soft moan tumbling past him at the sharp sting of your pull. that wayward moan soon turned into a grunt as the sportsman toyed with the band of your shorts.

“stop that.” you whispered, eyes growing wide as the blonde on the other end of the speaker continued his distressed rants.

"and what do i do about it?!" for the first time in the five years vinsmoke sanji had been your manager, you heard his voice shake in panic, "you two just broke up! in front of the cameras! like a week ago!"

"it's fine, sanji. people get together all the time—"

"—not if they're olympic level athletes!"  

"hey, you have no idea how much shit goes down in the olympic village." you shrugged, "last time 160k condoms were given out, and people flew threw them like it was nothing. there’s lots of crying. and fucking too, actually. sometimes both, now that i think about it."

“rabid monsters.”

“don’t be jealous. athletes just have a lot of stamina.” while you were busy rolling your eyes at the blonde and his dramatic antics, zoro climbed back up over you. a smirk on his lips, flashing you his canines, and mouthing “really? stamina?”

clad in a fitted, black tank top, your eyes drifted down to his arms and chest. shamelessly staring at the muscles flexing and unflexing under the flimsy material, you brought your free hand to run wild against his bicep. finding his index under your jaw, he tilted your face up to meet his eyes again. you smiled up at him without much thought and his heart stuttered out in the rhythm of his shallow breaths. fuck you for being so pretty.

before you could nod and ask what he wanted, he pressed a chaste kiss against your lips. next, he sunk his face in the crook of your neck. you felt the nip of his sharp canines against your sensitive pulse. but that sly bastard. all of that was to distract you from the way he dipped his hand under your shorts and pulled your panties aside.

“zo–“ you started slowly, but it was all in vain. the man above you was on a mission. and that mission was apparently to get your own manager to report you as a sex offender or something?! atleast that’s what it felt like from the way he rubbed his thumb against your sensitive clit. 

“either ways.” your manager huffed, ignoring the way your breath hitched at the new bruises against your neck and the stuttering swipes of his thumb against your folds, “this is still insane.”

"weren’t–” you gulped, trying to keep your voice steady, “you were the one saying that my job is to playand yours’ to take care of such things, so, do that.”

“and i can! i can fix it.” you heard a thud ring through the speaker and imagined that the blonde had fallen back onto his back helplessly, “but i need time to fix this. gotta talk to nami-san, and then i will need to fix the narrative using the media. i need time.”  

barely raising his lips off of your narcotic skin – with a flushed face and husky voice – zoro replied coolly, “don’t worry, nami’s on our side with this one.”

“HUH?! WHO WAS THAT?”

pinching the taut skin of the athlete’s bicep as a warning to stay shut, your tone stayed sickly sweet, “who? ‘twas the wind, sanji.”

“don’t try to sway me with your use of ‘twas.” he hissed like a wet cat, “is that mosshead here right now? is he in your room right now?!”

“and if you’re worried about the paps, roronoa will buy them out, you know?” as if to protest against your suggestion, zoro flicked his thumb faster against your swollen nub. you glared at him. “a-and if you’re worried someone will see us, they won’t. we won’t go public with it.”

“none of those suave answers.” sanji firmly stated, “answer what I asked first. is he there right now?”

you whistled a soft, “dunno what you’re talking about…” before drawing your phone away from your face, “because that’s blasphemous!!” purposefully covering the speaker with your palm, “hey, hey? sanji- hello? can’t hear… hear you right now. hello?”

you heard a muffled, “DON’T YOU DARE PULL THAT ON ME OR SO GOD HELP ME–“

“still can’t hear you.” your thumb hovered over the red button, “g’night, sanji!”

beep.

“i’m paying for the paps?”

trying to push his weight off of your relatively smaller frame, you huffed out, “c-can’t you stay shut when i ask you to, roronoa?”

in retaliation, he pressed more of his body weight onto you. snuggling his face into your crook and inhaling your scent like a man crazed, his fingers kept toying against you like it was as easy as breathing.

you tried to push him off again, gritting out, “do you think a good dick is enough of a reason to come back? cause it is not.”

“it is one of the reasons, is it not?”

“no. is it not.” you repeated, “shut it, and find a new strategy or something.”

“fine, tsk.” and with that the sportsman got off of you. pulling his hand out of your flimsy shorts, leaving behind your aching body as he got up. standing at the door, he looked back just to delve his long fingers past his lips to suck down on your essence. smiling as he pulled out, he made his conclusion in one, swift word, “sweet.”

and you just threw a pillow at him, face flaming up at the way he just simply caught the pillow and threw it right back at you, “fuck off, roronoa.”

“hm?” he cocked his eyebrow, careful hands still not attempting to open the door and leave, “I’ll just head back to my room, then.”

you found yourself crossing your arms over your chest, half to give him attitude and other half to soothe the skin that had been alit with his body over yours, “go, then. you’re the one who wandered in my room with unholy intentions.”

somebody could mistake his as the reincarnation of the devil with the way he was grinning. all unholy thoughts and malicious actions, “you’re the one still laying, waiting for me to do something.”

at his (correct) accusations, you sat up haughtily. adjusting the tank top and pulling it upwards, you found yourself glaring at the towering man for the nth time, “you’re insufferable. is this how you’re gonna win me back?”

“hey,” he shrugged, broad shoulders moving up and down with delicate ease, “worked the first time, didn’t it?”

“i was seventeen.” your eyes narrowed, “and you used to be way more handsome back then. it won’t work this time around.”

he hummed again, and within his cocky tone you could anticipate he had something to nag you with, “so i was handsome to you? that’s adorable.”

“fucking insufferable.”

“but handsome nonetheless?” and you almost threw your phone at his pretty face when he just grinned and exited the room. actually, no. you almost threw your phone when you realized that you were blushing, and fighting off a smile as he left your room.

what was this man doing to you?! ──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

19th of october, 7:58 p.m.

🍓attempt 01: no limits.

“okay, and i have no limits?” you asked again, just to ensure that you heard him right.

“yes, you do not.”

“and you’re not gonna sue me for using your money?”

“no, i will not. i don’t think i can legally.” he sighed, “do you wanna do it or not?”

“i do, but…” zoro's heavy voice kissed your ears, cutting you off, "then, stop whining. no buts, no ifs.”

“is this really how you’re gonna win me over?” mumbling, your lips fell into an easy pout, “feels more like bribery.”  

“nami said the quickest way to a woman's heart is shopping. or just cold, hard cash, really. but i figured this was more romantic." tilting his face downwards, his voice dropped down to a whisper, “does it feel romantic yet?”

goddamn that freak!

your skin erupted into a violent goosebump as you felt his words against your soft skin. your face heated up as your fingers stilled against the keypad of your laptop, the home page of your favorite shopping site pulled up and resting neatly. ready to do some damage on his wallet. well, honestly, what damage? he was a well-paid nepo baby who had a personal gym and court in his house. this would probably barely feel like a pinch to him.

“again, i ask for your consent.” you asked anyways, trying to remind yourself to be a business-savvy woman who had only come to absolutely wreck his wallet. zoro declared monotonously, “i give it with full consciousness. jesus, woman.”

“okay then, no taksies backsies.” you cleared your throat in anticipation. stretching your fingers slowly as they hovered over the keyboard. his arms wrapped around your middle and you fell against his chest with a soft thud, “start already.”

“what’s even the reason for this?”

“your manager said we can’t go out, like in public. and blondie hates me enough as it is right now. so, i didn’t wanna risk taking you shopping outside.” roronoa zoro found himself revelling in your dishevelled demeanour. voice honeyed, he rasped out, “what’s wrong with my room, though? nice ‘n comfy, isn’t it?”

“I meant what is the reason for me to sit on your fucking lap?”

“oh that?” he was laying in his bed, with you atop him and your laptop atop you. you grumbled on, “and is it necessary to do this in your room? the living room is a perfectly perfect place to shop online.”  

“you want me to get handsy in front of my father? that’s too much. the old man would probably die if he saw me like that.” he hummed, “not sure he’s ever even done anything. you know, given both me and ‘rona are adopted.”

you glared back at him at the shit he spewed but then your eyes widened as realization sunk in, “holy shit is he a forty year old... virgin?”

“dunno.”

“but he’s like emo, and vampirish. there’s no way he didn’t get some during the twilight era.”

“he was also the world champion at that time,” zoro reminisced, “he must have gotten girls.”

a laugh escaped you by, “zoro.” you stressed, “you’re the world champion right now. and the tally of girls you get is at a great zero.”

zoro mulled over your words before slowly shifting his pelvis so that you fell back at him unexpectedly, “not zero. got a girl on my lap right now.”

his laugh echoed yours as he held you tighter, and you tried to wriggle free, “jus’ cause you’re paying. no other reason.”

“how does it feel to lie to yourself?” he asked with mock grievance in his tone, and you tried to elbow his side to break free, “die.”

“kill me yourself, coward.”

“i will.” you admitted, still laughing as he decided to somehow tighten his grip even more firmly, “don’t. you’d look horrible in orange.”

“how dare you, roronoa zoro.” your palm struck his forearm playfully, “do not talk about my fashion choices when you shower once a week.” 

“nobody had a problem with it thus far,” he answered back easily, “but if you have a problem, i suppose i could shower semi-regularly.”

“semi-regularly?” you almost coughed up a hairball, “jesus christ, i don’t think i would able to fuck you ever again.”

“liar.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

22nd of October, 7:43 a.m.

🍓attempt 02: the way to the heart is through the stomach (i think??)

“roronoa.”

“father.”

“what are you doing in my kitchen right now?” the man raised a careful eyebrow, staring at his dishevelled son who he had caught not a minute earlier bickering with a red-head on his phone.

“cooking,” zoro deadpanned, “i'm trying to make waffles.”

his fathers hawk-like gaze swept over the kitchen. flour sprinkled over counter-tops, some on his cheek, a batter that looked more radioactive that the what remained of Chernobyl. the older man drawled on, “and i presume you know how to cook?”

“no. she's helping.” he flashed his father his phone-screen and the familiar, scorned woman who was on video-call. when she caught sight of mihawk, she smiled, “sir mihawk, how are you?”

“just passing by. come by for dinner someday, nami.” the man deadpanned and the manager laughed, “of course. how can I refuse?”

now his hawk-like stare was trained on zoro, who stared back at his father as if they were sworn enemies on court, “what is it, now?”

“is it for her?”

“who else?”

 “don’t burn my house down.”

“understood.”

and with that brief conversation, mihawk disappeared back into the mazes of his house, and zoro went back to bickering with the red-head.

“you add milk.” she emphasized, clicking her manicured nails together as she tried to guide an idiot to build the equivalent of rome, “do you not know what milk is?”

“i have enough calcium in my bones and I will not fall for scams like milk or medical insurance.”

“what?” she spluttered, “y-you don’t have insurance?!”

“when am I ever gonna need it, woman?”

“oh my god. you don’t have insurance!” and the last thing zoro saw the manager do was flip him off as she ran to some place elsewhere. possibly to get him some sort of medical insurance that he totally didn’t need. beep.

zoro’s fingers hovered over his contact list, the next stop being perona neesan 💗👻 .

“'rona.” zoro grumbled as he caught the face of perona on the other side. huge sunglasses were perched on her nose, a silky bandana flowing from her coloured hair, “awh, you remember me, zoro. finally.”

“quit that,” he mumbled helplessly before turning the back camera, “i need your help.”

“you’re committing arson at dad’s place?” she raised her sunnies so as to see the kitchen better. flour everywhere, and whatever the fuck was in that batter. kissing her teeth, she admitted, “i mean i don’t endorse violence… but that kitchen could use a makeover.”

“no. jesus, perona.” he turned to camera around to his face, “i– uh, i need to make waffles. an’ i don’t know shit. can you help or what?”

“huh?” her bug-like eyes widened impossibly wider, “yeah, obviously i can. but why are you cooking? is dad dying? and is his last wish to eat burnt waffles?”

“haha, funny.”

“wasn’t being funny. you have like... two left hands.”

“just to remind you, i’m ambidextrous.” zoro replied, poker-faced, and perona pouted, “who are you making them for, then?”

“myself.”

“liar.” narrowing her eyes, she probed further, “is it your ex? oh my god. are you guys actually together?”

“what?” zoro narrowed his eyes in return, “fuck off, ‘m not asking you for help.” he sighed, “where did you even hear about that?”

“it’s her?!” the goth girl squealed, “and you didn’t tell me?! I thought it was regular PR stuff that nami dragged you into. but she’s back? i remember how you sobbed when–”

“bye, 'rona. don’t call me back.” beep.

roronoa zoro had barely breathed when his elder sister called back. he picked it up with a groan, “what? I’m not answering your stupid questions.”

“okay fine.” she huffed, “’m not gonna ask you about your pathetic, little crush right now. keyword: right now.”

“perona.” he tried to threaten but the woman just leaned forward till her face was all zoro could see, “show me some respect, i’m older than you.”

“sorry.” the green-haired mumbled and his sister nodded in self-satisfaction, “and as far as waffles as concerned, don’t cook. you’d burn the house down. just order them in and say you made them.”

“isn’t that like, practically lying?”

“it is, yes.”  

“and aren’t you gonna tell me how it’s morally wrong to do that?”

“it’s a fucking waffle, zoro. not the olympics.” she finally pulled the sunnies back to her face and carefully perched them on her nose again, “nobody cares about cheating. just win her over, and thank me later.”

“you’re a bad influence, you know that?” a small smile cracked across his face, “oh, by the way–” the sportsman quirked an eyebrow, “do you have health insurance?”  

“i mean, who doesn’t?”

“me.”

“what?”

“nothing. thanks, i appreciate it.” the goth girl eyes widened all over again and zoro cut the call before her concerns could reach him.

8:55 a.m.

“you know what’s insane?” you mumbled through a mouthful, “i can swear that joanna’s bakery down the street makes these exact waffles.”

“do they?” zoro leaned forward, pouring more syrup to distract you, “that’s wild.”

“it is.” you nodded before taking another mouthful, “you know what else is insane?”

“how much of a good cook i am?” he tried, before having a bite himself.

“no.” you smiled at the way he gulped down the sweet breakfast up, “the fact that i swear i saw a brown bag with their logo in the trash, and now these waffles taste exactly like theirs.”

zoro froze, eyes trained on the mess of fried batter and syrup. he slowly looked up, “that’s insane, indeed.” he averted his gaze as you deadpanned, “you’re a terrible liar.”

“isn’t that an ideal quality though?” he tried again, “like, i could never lie to you.”

“mhm,” you nodded as a smile pressed to your lips, “try harder next time.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

25th of october, 10:03 p.m.

🍓attempt 03: with love, from an idiot.

“if this backfires, then what?” the man asked, and you could only make out faint noises from his phone. a faint, “if it backfires, then, you don’t get the girl, genius.” but nothing beyond that could deciphered as you stood with your ear to the door of your room.

“are you done?” you knocked at your door when the bickering on the other end ceased momentarily. the wood echoed under your faint hits as you called out again, “can I come in or what?”

there was no answer and you busied yourself with tracing the pattern of wood on the door once over. your forehead touched the cold wood, frustrated at yourself for allowing that beast to take over your territory.

zoro had waltzed into your room and declared that he was going to kick you out of your own room.

“huh?” you had mumbled, too confused at the way he tugged your arm and tried to push you outwards, “no way I’m leaving. fuck no.”

“I need like half an hour. I promise–”

“–if you intend to paint my room green, zoro.” you had barely started when he asked you to leave again. so, obviously, you both bickered for a good five minutes, got yelled at by mihawk cause you two were interrupting his wine drinking hour, and proceeded to bicker in whispers before you had to finally cave in and go out.

now, you were sitting in front of the closed door, and tracing patterns in the hope that sooner or later, your territory will be given back to you.  

“yeah, come on in.” you heard the man finally yell back from the other side, and you sprung up to your feet in part-excitement, part-fear. your fingers tried to turn the sleek metal handle to swing it open. except it wouldn’t open. moving it front and back, your eyebrows bunched when the door refused to budge open.

“what the fuck?” and to your surprise the green-head on the other side yelled back, “jesus, stop trying to break open the door.”

“it won’t open!”

“because I’m trying to open it for you.” he hissed back, “and you’re pulling from the other side. stop it.”

“you stop it.”

“if you could just let me do that for you. fuck–” the door swung inwards with such abrupt, wicked force that you almost kissed the ground face-first. glaring up at the man, you seethed, “what was that for?”

“i was trying to be a gentleman.”

you straightened up, squaring your shoulders defensively, “don’t. you’re barely a fully-functioning man.”

while you were waiting for him to counter you with his regular flirting disguised as hostility, instead his face softened and he apologized, “sorry. come on in?”

“huh?” your shoulders went slack, eyes narrowing at his broad figure as you walked past him and into the room.

the lights were dim.

“what’s this?” your eyes scanned the place, he had made a pillow fort on the ground with whatever haphazard sheets and pillows you had been hoarding in the room. the tv in your room showed a still from netflix: Ten Things I Hate About You.

you bent down, thumb and forefinger raising the sheets upwards to properly see inside, you saw packs of chips and instant ramen, coke and chocolates stashed to the side.

still frozen, you found him meekly call out your name, “do you hate it? do you? you do, right?” you heard the door lock behind you, “i can undo it, it’ll take me like ten minutes tops. it is literally not a big deal, i’ll take it down.” his voice dropped down to a whisper, “jesus fuck, I told nami this was stupid.”

he knelt next to you, forearms stretched forward as if he was itching to pull the flimsy housing to shreds. your hand grabbed his, face turning to meet his shy one.

“you did this for me?”

“uh,” he hesitated, “remember, blondie said no going out. so, I thought i’d try… this?” his voice grew weak, “you hate it.”

“you did it for me?” you repeated, almost in disbelief.

he sighed methodically, “who else?”

a grin broke on your face, “i didn’t take you for a romantic, roronoa.”

he shrugged off the goosebumps that threatened to break on his body at your reaction, “pfft. whatever. it’s not a… it’s not a big deal. nami helped… so, yeah.”

“you even put on my one of my favourite movies.”

“yeah, yeah.” the sportsman stood up, walking away from you to duck inside the fort and arrange the food items. but you could see his ear-tips growing redder, coy eyes carefully avoiding yours, “you’re, uh, you’re welcome.”

“but if you’re trying to impress me.” you followed suit, “this is not gonna work.”

he turned back to stare at you. a deer in headlights. “’s not?”

“well, I know you’re not a romantic. nami surely is though, it seems.” you settled down on the comfy mattress, turning your body so that it faced the wall the tv was plastered on, “i know this won’t happen again once we’re actually dating.”

“hey, it’s not like I’m not romantic at all. see, i’ve been doing well these couple of months. i think?” he tried to defend but you cut him, “you’re off season right now. once you have your five a.m. trainings and regular matches, you’d forget I even exist. you forget to eat, to fucking breathe when it comes to your game. a whole ass human?” you found yourself scoffing, “you would give up in a day. and that’s me just speculating based on observing you from afar per these past few months.”

he fell silent, probably reeling from your accurate observation. you sighed, trying to ease the unnecessary tension you had created, “i’m not attacking you, zoro.”

features downcast, lips pulled into an emotionless straight line. he repeated, “you’re speculating based on observing me from afar per these past few months?”

you probably should have drawn the line here, probably should have said okay and turned on the movie. but you were so well-versed in the language of self-destruction that someone should arrange a fucking pulitzer for you.

“you’re a sportsman first, son next.” you prayed your voice held atleast an inch of sympathy as you did a neat, little character assassination of the poor man. “as much as I appreciate the gesture, I am not sure where lover falls on that priority list. you like the chase, the idea… that i am something grand.” you stilled, “but i’m not. i am not an olympic medal, or a grand slam title. i'm just some woman.”

“you’re not just some woman.” he breathed slowly. “i suppose you have a point. i am not a lover. my hands find the racket before they find a bouquet, my words find silence before they do declarations of love. i- i don’t how to… just love.” he repeated to plead his case.

and this was it.

you barely held your breath as the man next to confirmed just who he was. he was not a lover. he was the number one on the global charts. and how selfish had you been to demand that he be anything but that demon on court?

“but,” zoro proved you wrong. “i wouldn’t have sacrificed long days and sleepless nights for just some woman. you underestimate how much you mean to me.” his breath grew strained, words unsure as if it was the first time he was telling the truth, “five years is a long, long time to come back home and yearn for your arms.”

you didn’t turn your head to gawk at him even though every cell in you wanted to. every inch of you wanted to turn your head, grab his face in your smaller palms and ask him to confess just how much you meant to him. but you were not sure you could listen to him come up empty handed like a fish out of water. you were not sure you wanted to find out just how easily roronoa zoro could break your heart.

but as the two of you fell into silence, your eyes zeroed in on the zooming in and out title card on tv instead, “let’s jus’ watch.”

“you mean everything to me. always have, always will.” you felt his palm on yours, and you flinched at his careful touches. pulling your hand back to your chest, you felt the familiar speeding up of your heart against your ribcage, “don’t. zoro, please.”

“don’t what?” he tried to ask, tried to turn toward you with anticipation making a home in his irises and vile thoughts on his lips.

don’t what? you tried to find the answer to the very same question. don’t what? what did you want to say to him? was it “please don’t make me think you could love me all over again.” or “please don’t break my heart again.” or just a simple “don’t say another word or i’d find myself risking it all for you. and i cannot stand to be the fool who fell for you yet again.”

just a series of unfortunate ‘agains’, it seemed.

instead, you turned your body towards his, tentative hands coming up to hold his face in yours before falling back to the mattress. you raked in a forbidden sigh, the sound so loud in the eerily quite room. finally looking at him, you found yourself growing dumber.

somehow, like this – vulnerable – he looked like just another twenty-two year old. not a world champion. not somebody capable of destroying you.  

“i am not sure i’m ready to get my heart broken by you again.” you confessed slowly, like a coward. “i am not sure i can celebrate my next birthday, just to beg some meaningless god above for you once more.”

“then don’t.” his eyes drifted downwards, heartsick fingers twitching as they inched closer to your warmth. his words were low, like yet another coward. “don’t ask for me back if i break your heart again.”

was it that simple?   

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

26th of october, 8:09 a.m.

you woke up with open packets and stacked cups of ramen on the floor, some episode of friends blaring on the tv and zoro stirring you awake.

sunlight filtered through the window, streaming in and pouring through the linen onto the man in front you. he was pretty, achingly so. his hair was tousled, lips parted, and thick brows bunched together like he was playing a match right now, “wake up.”

“huh?” rubbing your eyes, you tried to blink sleep away but instead grew more confused the longer you ruminated about his words, “what?”

“up and runnin’.” he repeated, “i need you.”

“need me?” your face contorted to show pure, unadulterated confusion, “zoro, ‘slike eight a.m.? can’t you wait a while?”

something nostalgic stirred within you as he smiled and bent down to face you easily. did the sun always get caught against his frame like he was a deity with a chokehold on you?

his smile was easy-going, and suddenly, you were fourteen year olds planning to ‘run away’ from home because you wanted to see the world. his voice shook you out of the daze, “get your head out of the gutter. didn’t mean it that way.”

“huh?” you couldn’t even find yourself growing offended amid your sleep-infused, hazed state. “what do you mean then?”

he tugged on your arms to help you sit up, “we’re going on a road trip.”

“we… are?” your expression grew awry, “where?”

“pack up and meet me outside,” he stood up, “you’d find out once we get there.” 

“but zoro, hey–” you tried calling out. but it was futile as he walked out of the room, and you stay seated in the mess of sheets and pillow and tried to make sense of what was and what is.

5:42 p.m. 🍓attempt 04: next destination: love!

zoro stared at his phone for what seemed like an eternity. your gaze shifted from him to the deserted road and back to him. the dull sun inching near the horizon skeptically as if watching you two making a fool of yourselves. the winds were warm, and your road-trip was in the hands of an absolute idiot.

you slumped back into the leather, muttering, “should’ve never let you navigate.”

“let me concentrate, woman.” he huffed as his forefinger and thumb zoomed in on the unknown streets on his maps.  

“how do you ever go anywhere?! your navigation powers are in the negatives.” tone haughty, you turned around to stare at him, “what kind of grown ass man gets confused on google maps? it literally said go straight!”

“i did go straight.” he turned to stare at you, tone just as haughty. “and i have a driver usually, i don’t drive by myself.”

“you went straight?” you repeated, somewhat amused by his ability to get lost on a straight highway. you craned your head, eyes peering past the black, tinted windows to stare at the deserted road, “and we ended up here? near a ghost town?”

“hold on.” he shifted his attention to the useless app pulled up on his phone screen. his face bunched up in irritation, throwing his phone on the dash-board before shifting the gear to start moving, “no point staying in one place, let’s keep movin’ and we will eventually figure it out.”

“figure what out?” you groaned, slumping back all over again, “atleast tell me where we’re going.”

“surpr–” you cut him off, “there would be no surprise if we never reach it!”

“okay, fair.” he breathed in slowly as the SUV made its way down the deserted road, passing by curated farms only inhabited by scarecrows. he sighed, “if we don’t figure out the road by nightfall, i’ll tell you.”

10:53 p.m.

“so,” zoro avoided your heated gaze, finally admitting the truth, “guess we’re lost."

“yes. yes we are, roronoa.”

“and it’s nightfall, so, i should tell you the destination.”

“yes. yes you should, roronoa.”

“don’t use that tone with me.” he tried meekly and your eyes narrowed in response, “why? are you scared?”

“no.” he cleared his throat, trying to sound like his usual self as he looked around in the lonely diner. the wooden table was rickety, the theme of the diner felt vintage-y, but in a way that was more unused than vintage. a lone, old woman waited behind the counter as you both munched on your dinner. once done with his inspection, he continued, “but it’s unnerving. you sound like nami, and she’s a witch as far as i know. red-head, you know.”

“you have moss-green hair, roronoa.”

“witches support witches.” he emphasized, and in return, a witch-like laugh past your lips, “you should be unnerved. good, because i feel like i have no choice but to sacrifice you in a satanic ritual to go back home now.”

the old woman behind the counter looked at you with utter dread in her eyes but you were too busy stabbing your fork in your grilled cheese, “now, spill. where were we going?”

he sighed, “home.”

“home?” you repeated, “home?”

“i thought i’d take you back to our childhood home,” his voice trailed off.

“why?”

why that wretched place? the place that become bleak, repetitive once you were left all alone five years ago, once he left in the blink of an eye. you routine had become monotonous after him: badminton court, school, home, practice, home, practice, home, sleep. rinse and repeat. repeat. repeat. repeat.

pursing his lips together, he looked down at his plate, “for old time’s sake, i guess?”

“old time’s sake?”

“there was a time when neither of us hated that little, suburban town.” he grinned, “remember that park with the broken swings?”

“that shit was haunted.” you took a bite, conspiring through a mouthful, “i mean why else was it never fixed?”

he continued, “and that public swimming pool? how was every guard there a creep?”

“except dave.” you nodded in agreement, a slight smile playing on your lips, “dave was cool.” 

"he liked you so much, it was stupid." zoro huffed before popping a french fry in his mouth.

“you're the one to talk. do you remember courtney?” you grinned, shoving an index in his direction, “she had suchhh a huge crush on you in middle-school. it was honestly confusing.”

“why was it confusing?”

“you looked like a kiwi,” and you laughed when his eyebrows bunched together and he almost pouted, “i believe it was you that liked this kiwi.”  

“tch, that was lifetimes ago.” your voice softened as he stayed quiet, the two of you just looking at each other as if registering each other’s silence as the only, absolute truth. the knife lodged in your grilled cheese slipped past your grip and a soft clang rang out as it hit your porcelain plate. you hummed, “should’ve told me we’re going back. i would have helped you navigate, zoro.”

“’sfine.” he shook his head, right hand coming up to scratch the itch away and re-set the strands of hair, “we can just head back. if we leave now, we’d reach by dawn. it’s pointless to go back to that old town now.”

you sighed, fingers interlocking as you slumped back against the worn out seat. the booth was cold against your back, the light bulb flickering momentarily as the two of you existed in a place far removed from reality, a place where the two of you were just twenty-somethings eating dinner at a worn-out diner.

“are you done eating?” you asked once he pushed his plate away. he nodded and you found yourself tugging his arm to leave the diner.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, confused, as he trailed after you. you glanced back once, “if we keep moving forward, we’d probably figure it out, right?” you stilled, turning fully to face him, “let’s go home, yeah?”

if roronoa zoro could, he would follow you to the miserable depths of hell. what was a small town compared to that?

he nodded, “yeah.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

27th of october, 6:29 p.m.

“this is it, huh?” you stared at the massive suburban home in front of you. the lawn was trimmed, kept nice and clean as you two stood in front of what was once your humble abode.

your family had sold the place once you expressed that you wanted to move away to do better in your profession, and you had never had the heart to come back and check who bought the place or who didn’t.

“wanna walk around town?” zoro offered his palm, albeit a bit hesitantly, “let’s see what has changed.”  

well, that small creak behind your middle school had dried up, now littered with popped soda cans and torn packs of chip. cigarette butts stuck between jagged rocks and dried leaves. the ‘haunted’ park was still not fixed, but you saw little children running around, the scarfs against their tiny frames flying behind them momentarily as they chased each other around. and the leaves on the ground stirred like they were alive under their light footsteps. the old public badminton court had been renovated, it seemed, and the streetlights had been upgraded to a softer orange-y shade rather than the harsh white you both grew up under.

“they made another mall where the theatre was.” zoro commented as you both walked by what used to be your old cinema hall.

“you remember the theatre?” you asked as your eyes raked over the looming white structure with faces of celebrities plastered onto hoardings with the bold declarations of ‘now playing’.

“of course,” he shrugged, muscled arms methodically going up and down, “we had our first date there.”

“it wasn’t a date. you told me you wanted to catch the movies and then you tried to hold my hand for the next two hours.” you emphasized, kicking the dried twigs on the sidewalk. zoro joined in, lazily kicking fallen leaves and scoffing, “perona said it was. i even bought you caramel popcorn.”

and you found yourself giggling, “you even remember the flavour?”

“i remember everything.” his tone appeared to be nonchalant, “a white tank-top with strawberries on it and a blue-wash jeans, that’s what you were wearing.”

you lips pressed together, “can’t believe you remember that.” you came up to softly poke his side, “who would’ve thought you’re a romantic?”

“yeah, yeah.” he rolled his eyes, biting down an infectious smile, “i just have a good memory.”

“good memory?” you scoffed, “how come you’re such a bad navigator then?”

“tch, i’m just a bit geographically challenged.”

you laughed as your footsteps fell one in front of the other, and he trailed behind wordlessly.

as zoro saw you walk in front of him, your dainty hands interlocking so you could stretch them overhead and the way you looked back at him to beckon him towards you, so as to follow you faster. all of it made his heart twist unnaturally in the pit that was his chest. all of it.

next, you both passed your old high-school. standing at the metallic fence, the sun dipped far below the horizon as the streetlights behind you flickered and came alive. the two of you stood behind the metallic, looking at the buildings that had seen you grow in it’s hallways. when you sighed, the air fogged up just a tiny bit, “your blue jersey from state championships, and black jeans. white adidas too.”

“hm?” zoro cocked his head to your side, and you continued, “that’s what you were wearing on our not-date.”

“you remember?”

you pressed your forehead to the metal, the cold fence digging indentures onto your forehead, “of course i remember. i actually have a good memory.”

the two of your stood in frigid silence and the nightly winds grew stronger around you both. you pulled back, turning your face towards zoro, “it’s growing cold, wanna head back to the car?”

his thumb came up to ease away the red markings on your forehead, the friction of his touches melting away the cold essence of the metal. once he was satisfied with his damage control on your forehead, he nodded, “one more pit stop, then, let’s head back.”

10:02 p.m.

the car was parked in the middle of the field where you had spent reckless evenings just like this with zoro five years prior, to the very field where you had last seen him before he left without a word.

you remembered that cruel night as if it was your whole existence. it might as well have been considering how many time you had replayed the same night in your head over and over and over again, wondering if you had done something stupid.

you had sneaked out of your home, and he had sneaked here after his practice was finally over. his hair was sweaty, boyish features coloured a brutal shade of petrified as he approached you under the night sky.

“what’s wrong?” you had asked once you had noticed his downcast eyes and his shivering hands.

“nothing.” zoro had pressed his lips into a thin smile, “’m just tired from the practice.”

“oh?” you held his palm in yours, pressing a sweet kiss to it, “don’t worry, soon you’d win the state championship and then we would have all the time in the world to hang out, right?”

maybe you should have understood it right then when roronoa zoro simply nodded and looked away you. he had never been a good liar anyways. 

that night, you both had sat down on the ground. staring up at the night sky, you had traced the constellations with your finger-tips and made false promises of a candied future that never came by. the soft grass under you both had tainted your cream coloured shorts green that day. yet another cruel reminder of him, yet another proof that he and you were real, yet another physical evidence of the love that once was.

“why’re we here?” you couldn’t be bothered masking up the irritability in your voice. the raw edges of hurt cut right back your mortal body as you stepped out of the passenger seat.

“c'mon.” that’s all zoro said as he lend you a hand and helped you climb the car’s roof top.

“zoro.” you repeated sternly, but he just helped you up without much explanation. once you were perched on the metallic frame, he climbed up and your voice momentarily wobbled, “a-are we sure the roof’s not gonna break?”

“no, ‘snot.” he clarified, slowly inching closer to you till you could feel his body warmth against your arm.

tilting your face upwards, you drunk in the sight of the malevolent sky littered with heavy, grey clouds that covered the usual litter of stars; so cruel but so pretty underneath it all.

zoro pulled his knees to his chest, softly perching his chin atop them with a sigh, “pretty, isn’t it?”

“why’re we here of all places?” you pulled your knees to your chest, mirroring his actions.

“it felt wrong to leave without seeing this place once.” he admitted softly, “d’you hate it that much?”

“yes. i do.” you nodded, burying your face against the jagged, scarred skin of your knees. you hated this place, and the pair of green-stained cream shorts in your cupboard were nothing if not the proof of that.

“such a shame,” he sighed, “’s a pretty place.”

“zoro–” but he cut you off, “we’ve changed so much in these five years, haven’t we? let’s get to know each other again.” he lifted his head to look at you, “what’s your favourite hobby?”

you scoffed, “you’re kidding.”

“i’m not.”

“did perona put you upto this?” your eyes narrowed, head still tipped back to stare at the grumbling sky, “or nami.”

“no.” he stressed, “my hobby is probably playing pool now. luffy put me onto it, it‘s kinda cool.”    

“i thought sleeping was your favourite past-time.” you turned to look away from the sky and at him but somehow couldn’t. you sighed, slowly admitting, “that was what you always said in interviews.”

“did you stalk me via interviews?”

you tucked your knees one over the other and straightened up, “says the man who watched every match where I got my ass handed to me.”

“i never said i did or didn’t stalk you.”

“you also didn’t say that you won’t break my heart again.” his eyes were boring into yours as you turned your face to finally find his, “you just said to not pray for you back.”

“would you believe me if i told you i won’t break your heart?”

traces of sleep lingered in his eyes, patterns from guilt long-gone-by traced onto his cheeks. you realized with a certain ache that you would probably believe this man if he told you he made the colosseum in his past life, and that he was Genghis Khan re-incarnated. but the fact that he won’t break your heart again? doubtful.

you turned your face back to the thundering clouds. they flashed a myriad of colours and loud sounds enveloped your mortal figures as they churned impatiently above you. you heaved in a breath. slowly exhaling, you asked, “when i lost women’s doubles against the boa sisters, you know what they said to me?”

you believed he knew the answer, being an interview-stalker himself. but he played along, “what?”

“they asked me if you broke up with me because I threaten your legacy as number one, zoro.” a deep sigh passed you by, “since i’m still number two, and from the looks of it they don’t think i’ll be one any time soon.” a mirthless laugh escaped your lips, “honestly, i don’t think I’ll be one any time soon.”

“do you really think i give a crap about shit like that?” zoro raised his face fully, widened eyes looking at you as if you had just accused him of skinning men alive.

“why else would you leave everything behind to be number one, roronoa?”

to you it was clear. he wanted to be number one, so, he left everything behind to be it. simple as that. he wanted to go after his dreams, so, he sacrificed everything he loved. you just happened to be unfortunate enough to be one of those things he loved. simple as that.

“i promised someone.” he finally admitted when you stayed silent, “back when i was in foster care.”

“what?” you found yourself turning your face to look at his, and the man who stared back at you seemed to be a man ravaged and hunted, like a mere prey for guilt.

roronoa zoro had never kept any secrets from you. never. not when he met you as a kiwi-looking middle-schooler at thirteen, and not when he was about to be twenty-three a decade later. no secrets other than his past in foster care. you knew mihawk adopted him when he was eleven, and perona when she was fifteen but no more than that. his past in the foster-care, that one was off-limits.

no questions, no answers.

and you had never pushed. it was something he wanted to forget and you’d be damned if you brought his demons to his under the pretence of harmless curiosity. that was it.

no questions, no answers.

then why was he speaking of it now?

“i only had this one friend. no. she was more like a sister, really.” his eyes hardened, “kuina. she was obsessed with this game, and i hadn’t even heard of it. every fucking time she got her hands on the tv to the communal room, she would turn on sports channel and tear through them till she found one playing re-runs of badminton.”

your muscles ached, and suddenly you were reminded of the air you had ceased to breath in. zoro continued, “she used to drag me to play, and then she used to beat my fucking ass at it. every fucking time. then, one night…” his voice grew thicker, like tar lodged right in his larynx, “she told me that one day, she would make it out of that shitty foster system and she would be number one.”

“somehow, seven year old me thought it would be fun to argue with her. so, i told her ‘no, i’d be number one and you’d be watching.’ she told me no. she had every right to. she was a better player than I was. she deserved this more than i do.”

“zo,” your hand found his bicep as his eyes glossed over, “you don’t have to tell me.”

but you didn’t know any player by the name of kuina, so, it didn’t take you long to guess where the story was headed. somehow, you stomach still dropped when zoro spoke the next part aloud, “she died a day later. ran into the fucking street while chasing the shuttle that the wind blew over. died on the fucking spot.”

“zoro.”

“i made a promise. a-and she was my sister.” 

“zoro.” and you moved to engulf him within your arms. you felt him shudder under you, face pressed to your chest in a bleak effort to hold back tears as you held him tighter and tighter against yourself. as if your weak, mortal body could undo the past or stop him from the torment that was his own mind.

“i’m sorry.” your words paled in comparison to the feelings that brewed within the depths of your stomach. as if to reflect the words you couldn’t utter, drops of rain poured down onto you both mercilessly, as if the skies were mourning.

“i’m sorry.” you repeated, arms moving haphazardly to hold him to yourself closer. his hand moved with just as much desperation, trying to clutch onto you as if you were the only tangible thread of sanity left within him, as if your touch was all that grounded him, kept him alive.

“i- i can’t, i won’t lose you.” he mumbled into your skin, “i won’t let it happen. not again.”

he raised his face to look at you and bloodshot eyes met yours. his hair stuck to his forehead, lips quivering and you couldn’t tell which drops were tears and which rain on his soaked face.

your eyes racked over his frame. from his uncaring hair, to the eyes that had grown weary far too young, to the same pair of lips you had ached to call home, and finally the arms that you had yearned for much the same for the past five years.

“zoro?” you leaned towards him as your voice grew weaker. rain drops on your lips clung helplessly as he followed your voice, face falling forward till your foreheads were mere hairsbreadth apart, “y-yeah?”

why did your breath sound so strained? how come you could feel your heart pumping wildly against the bones lodged in your chest? how could you taste the metallic taste of blood and rain on your lips like as you heaved out ragged words?

you bit your lip to stop it from quivering helplessly. words failing to voice what not even your brain could, you asked for similar candied lies, “say you won’t break my heart again.”

words desperate, he nodded, “i won’t.”

“no,” your breath grew more ragged as each second passed you by, “no. swear on it.”

his calloused palm came to rest on your cheeks, forehead touching as he closed his eyes shut. “i swear on it. i, roronoa zoro, promise to never break your heart again.”

“and if you do?”

“you’re more than welcome to break my skull with my own racket. plummet it down really hard.”

a small smile cracked at your lips, “really?”

“promise.” he hummed. and as he leaned forward to catch your lips against his in a sickly, sweet routine, you pulled back.

he barely had the second to react before you crashed back into him. you couldn’t wait any longer. your lips against his in a clash of teeth and lips and tongue and the faint taste of rain on your skins.

“’s pouring.” he panted, words barely being processed in your lucid state, “wan’ you s’bad though. so, so fucking bad.”

the next you knew, your wet back met the leather backseat of his car.

the sportsman hovered over you momentarily. and next, all you felt was his naked skin pressed to yours, his calloused palms tracing patterns long-forgotten to your sides as he gulped down anything you had to offer. any cries, any grudges, any desires.

you pushed him away just to be able to breath, but air seemed to be the last priority on zoro’s mind as he caught your lips against his in a methodical, little game all over again. panting against your pretty lips, his fingers tried to rid you of your soaked jeans and panties. and all of it was so lewd, so unbearably lewd.

from the sounds of his skin on yours, the sound of the rain violently crashing against the tinted windows and the sounds of his desperate huffs and pants as he tried to manhandle you and get rid of the whatever unholy layers separated you from his feral touches.

“z-zoro,” you stuttered helplessly and the man that peered down at you resembled more a demon ready to fester on the last bit of your lucidity rather than the man you loved.

“c’mere.” he husked, and within moments he was under you. laying prettily on the backseat as your honeyed heat hovered only inches away from his pretty lips. as he stared up at you, his strong arms wrapped around your hips and he pulled you to his lips.

“fuck,” his eyes rolled back as he ran an experimental flick of his tongue against your core, and you flinched, already pulling back from him.

and how could you blame roronoa zoro for tightening his grip against your thighs and fully seating you over his face?

“none of that hoverin’ shit.” he declared in a series of hot pants against your drenched cunt, “let me eat my girl out properly.”

“z-zoro,” you bucked forward as his lips attached around the sensitive nub, sucking like he knew your untimely demise was his very duty. strong fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he ate you out like a man starved, like a man ravished.

it was all so messy, all so untamed, feral. just a mix of spit, your honeyed fluids and his insane determination to make you unravel at the tip of his tongue.

he sneaked in a hand, forefinger and thumb pinching the nub as his tongue delved deeper into your velvety hole. your eyes rolled back as his strokes stayed unrelentless against your heat and you found yourself falling apart at his preying touches, “oh my god, zo. ‘m gonna fuck–”

“cum f’me.” he rasped against you, the other hand coming down to smack the fat of your ass. you ass recoiled under his pressure and you jolted as he rubbed the stinging area better. hot tears pricked at your eyes as he brought down a unrelenting hand at the same strawberry-red patch of skin. the pain mingled in with the methodical strokes of his tongue and the messy rubbing from his fingers pushed you past your limit.

your walls spasmed, sickly sweet dew pooling at his lips as you bucked forward with a strangled cry in your throat, “zoro, zoro, zo.”

you weren’t quite sure if you imagined it, or if you truly felt roronoa zoro smirk against your aching cunt before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses onto the damage he had done.

as you tried to catch your breath, zoro kissed – no, devoured – your clit. your throbbing bundle of nerves caught between his lips dangerously, he sucked on it as you bucked and keened over him, “one more. c’mon, baby.”

“no, please.” you tried to cry out but the maddened man could hear nothing over the blood rush against his ears and the ecstasy of your orgasm on his tongue. clenching his eyes shut, all he could focus was on the way you squirmed over him. trying to run away? pushing him away?

he couldn’t help but grin like a man gone far too gone because this was like a challenge, and what did roronoa love if not challenges? you were practically begging him to eat you till you cried and begged him to let you go, were you not?

“z-zo.” your voice failed you at your fourth orgasm and all you could feel was the muscle pushing in and out of your sore, aching cunt and his fingers pulling on your nipple so, so meanly. “z-zoro,” you tried again, this time without stuttering, “you’re s’mean, zo.”

“am i?” the way he sounded, you felt like only more torture was on your way, “am i so, so mean?”

you nodded, tears rolling down your pretty face as he thumbed your sore clit and cooed, “sorry, baby.”

“y-you’re not sorry,” you hips spasmed at his careless touches and you threw your head back to hold back a cry, “you’re n-not sorry at all.”

“’m not,” he admitted cockily, pulling you upwards so he could press kisses to your sore thighs, “only i get to ruin my girl.”

“y-your girl?” you sounded so out-of-it, so innocent with the way he had fucked you dumb. wobbly lips, teary eyes and hoarse voice. god, he loved you. he nodded, peering at you as if breaking it down for you, “my girl.”

pulling your quivering thighs off of him, he sat up and softly placed you on his lap. when you met his pussydrunk face, his lips were drenched off of your essence. he wiped his face off the back of his hand, then using the same hand to pull your jaw forward to kiss you senseless all over again.

his mushroom tip sat hotly against your inner thigh, smearing the glossy precum all over your soft skin. as zoro battled his tongue against yours, your nimble fingers toyed with his flushed cock-head. as you softly thumbed the slit, zoro found himself whimpering against your pouty lips, slowly pulling back.

“ah, fuck.” he breathed in slowly, eyes rolling back as you finally stroked his dick. you met his eyes definitively as you brought up your soft palm to your mouth. spitting on his soft skin, you brought it back to his angry shaft nestled against your thighs.

moving it up and down, your face dipped down to his neck to bite down on his pulse. instead of whimpering the way he was, his strong hand came to push your head harder against his tanned skin. he rasped, “harder.”

and you sunk your teeth into his skin with enough force to break his skin, just to find the man under you stutter and his white seed to coat your hand. his hips stuttered, eyes clenching shut as realization set in, “f-fuck. shit hah, i came?”

growing cocky at the way he came undone, you bit down a teensy bit harder. until you felt the sweet taste of iron on your lips and you pulled back to see a small droplet of blood beading at his neck. but before you could apologize, zoro noticed your crimson hued lips. pulling you towards him, he revered in the sweet metallic tang of his blood against your tongue. madman.

the sportsman hummed against you as he pulled your sore hips upwards and positioned his cock to nudge your slit ever-so-slowly.

“mmph, zo–” you tried to speak but his mushroom tip got caught against your clit so deliciously. moaning, he guided his dick to finally push past your hole and your jaw went slack at the sinful stretch.

hair sweaty and clinging to your skin, your head was thrown back as he pistoled his dick in with slow circular motion of his hips, and you tried to ground himself by digging your nails into his shoulders. zoro grinned, his canine on display unabashed, “feel good?”

your jaw slacked open, just for nothing to come forth other than half-coherent jumbles of his name as his tip kissed your sugary sweet spots with the urgency of a madman. shallow thrusts into your cunt only resulted in persistent prodding of his tip against your g-spot. his thumb pressed debauched words to your clit as your hips moved on their accord, with only one goal: to forget anything but his ungodly thrusts into your rueful cunt.

“feel s’good, zo. feel so, so good hah mhph–” you babbled, nodding as he moved your hips up and down to fill you up and leave you empty over and over and over again. a hand snaked upwards to pull at your roots, tipping your head back so that he could sink his teeth and brand up your soft skin just over the column of your throat. 

“feel good?” he repeated, eyes almost crossing over at the crimson mark on your neck. if you felt like you were losing sanity, there was no need to feel lonely cause zoro trailed not farther behind. he laughed, bringing you down harder on his shaft, “feel good, baby? does my girl feel good?”

you nodded, eyes clenching shut as his cock massaged your gummy walls and his thumb tortured your poor, aching clit so well.

the familiar feeling built within you again, like a fire that burnt you to a crisp from within. your walls spasmed, head thrown back, drooling as roronoa zoro made it his life’s purpose to fuck you as hard as he could. to a point, where, you felt like he was just holding back to not break you.

“l-look at me, angel.” his hand squished your cheek mercilessly, pulling your face down just to press a mocking peck to your pouty, drooling lips and laugh when you jolted from the orgasm, “oh my g-god, zoro! fuck aah, hah shit shit shit.”

you slumped forward, sweaty forehead pressed to his heaving chest while he continued to fuck into your overused cunt. his thrusts grew weaker – erratic – before he painted your walls white.

“shit, baby.” the man laughed, his chest vibrating from the stuttered falsetto, “one more?”

“zo…” and the way you looked up at him so teary-eyed, shaking your head no. another challenge?

so now, of course zoro had you pressed in such a mean mating press, mumbling against your swollen kiss-bitten lips, “you’re doing so well, baby. ‘m so proud of my girl.”

“y-yeah?” you stuttered out, batting your tear-stained eyelashes so well that zoro couldn’t help but lap at the tear-drops cascading down your cheek, “mhm, course angel. take one more for me, can you?”

you nodded as if you had a choice.  

his chest pressed up against yours, broad hand pulling your knees so far high so that he could plunge in and out of you so very easily. zoro panted with every slow drag of his shaft against your addictive, sugar-sweet walls because every small movement seemed to set you alight. your cunt grabbed at him hungrily, clutching him so tightly as if you refused to let him go.

managing a few more thrusts, he brought your weak hand upto his throat and pressed your hand onto his pulse. you stared at him, wide-eyed, before pressing harder. as your soft hand pushed harshly against his pulse, zoro pushed into your heat harder with a low whimper.

his hips sputtered as splashes of white painted your walls all over again.

the sportsman heaved, dipping his sweaty face down to the crook of your neck and pressing his body weight on yours. after what seemed like eons of just catching up his breath, zoro slowly pulled out and you gasped at his absence.

“are you okay?” he pressed a chaste kiss to your collarbone before trailing upwards and pressing another to your cheek. your muscles went slack under him, soreness creeping up the tendrils of your flesh as you fluttered opened your eyes, “’m tired.”

“already?” the man grinned, licking a soft stripe up your jaw. your weak hands pushed him away, groaning, “already?!”

“sorry, c’mere.” settling beside you in the cramped seat, he pulled you to his chest. humming faintly as his fingers softly caressed the damp tressed and you melted against the feel of his warm skin against yours.

the soft pitter-patter of the rain against the windows quietened, the morning mist hovering around the car like some forbidden protector and dew clung helplessly to leaves in the field. zoro pulled you closer to himself, his shallow breath against your forehead and his soft fingertips massaging your sore hips, “i think i love you.”

“you think?” your eyes fluttered open, trailing up softly to take in his peaceful expression. you bit the inside of your cheek, stomach churning as you dug your cheek against his chest and nodded, “i think i love you too.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

11th of november, 12:01 a.m.

“go on,” you shoved the cupcake in his direction, the candle light flickering softly and barely holding out against his stuttered breath, “for real?”

“hm,” you nodded, “make a wish, zo.”

“i don’t even have a religion.” he mumbled and you pinched the taut skin of his bicep in retaliation, “jus’ do it.”

“okay, fine. here goes nothing.” he closed his eyes. eyebrows bunching up in concentration and high cheekbones coloured orange from the weak flame. a moment passed by as the two of you stayed huddled on his bed, him praying and you looking at him.

a soft breath and the flame went out. when he opened his eyes, you smiled at him, “what did you wish for?”

“nothing,” he replied softly, calloused fingers interlocking with yours, “think i have everything i could ever need already.”

“happy birthday, zo.” you pecked him and pulled back, but he pulled you back to him.

knock, knock, knock.

“are you both done?” perona knocked at the door, “everyone’s waiting for you out, idiot.”

the next morning your twitter was flooded with the same blurry photo of you kissing zoro at his birthday party.

@/roronoaswifeyy said: yOU TWO ARE MY ROMAN EMPIRE OMG!!! @/sweatytoenails asked: IS THIS ANOTHER PR STUNT?11 OMG I CANNOT TAKE ANOTHER BREAK-UP. @/boaboaboa said: GUYS I THINK THIS PICTURE IS LEGIT, SOMEONE SAW THEM GO ON A ROAD-TRIP TOO

@/monkeydluffyofficial: very proud of zoro to be able to pull such a pretty woman without showering for days on end ❤️😃 @/dailycelebgossip: BREAKING: two-times grand slam winner and current number #1, roronoa zoro confirmed to be going out with his former flame!

@/vinsmokesanjiofficial: we will be releasing an official statement, until then PLEASE STOP TAGGING ME, YOU’RE BLOWING UP MY PHONE. AND @/ynln ANSWER MY CALLS. @/nami_bizconmgmt: like@/vinsmokesanjiofficial said, please wait for the official statement and @/realroronoazoro PICK UP MY CALLS.   

zoro wrapped a strong arm around your waist. sleep lingered in his eyes, and the pattern of the pillow case was imprinted onto his skin instead, “what’re you reading?”

you giggled, “people are losing their mind over the fact that we’re dating.” you looked over your shoulder, “can’t believe a PR stunt got us here.”

“oh, about that.” he mumbled, “nami never asked me to do that, i was just feeling bold that day. paid off pretty well though, didn’t it?”

“huh?” your eyes widened, words sinking in at a much slower rate, “HUH?”

“what?”

“HUH?”

“what?” he repeated with a grin, “it worked, didn’t it?”

“YOU ASSHOLE!” you pushed at him and he just held you tighter against his chest, “mhm, love you too.”

ladies and gentlemen, this is your friendly reminder to not go back to your ex by the way! they don't deserve you and aren't roronoa zoro!  

a/n: i cannot believe this has come to an end!! aaaah took me fucking forever to finish it (and i have like 5 more characters to write for ://) but im so so grateful for anyone who loved this and has shown me that love. thakyou so much you guys! i'd be making an ao3 soon enough so that it's easier to navigate. again, thankyou for keeping up with me <3 tagging: @litlebruh @mist-ixx @briezy04764 @otkuhotgirl [the credit for feral!zoro goes to her] @mars-mizuko @florallyarranged @ayumitho @lyany2k @dietcokefizz @kokanee-readinglist @angelsforever999 @rengokushuaige @imlikeacoffeeconnoisseur @gojoistetti tysm for reading!! you all were so incredibly nice that im sobbing :')) i hope y'all enjoyed this! much love, vix <3 m.list

[billybob598]

Hey I was thinking of a FWB with either Alexia Putellas or Ona Batlle ( doesn’t have to be smut if you’re not comfortable) where they’ve been fwb for a few months and the reader and one of them have a crush on each other. One day, one of the ( reader or one of them ) confesses their feelings than they start dating!!!

Sorry if this is bad I’m horrible at making requests!

Have a wonderful day!!

Friends With Consequences (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

So, thanks to the anon who sent this in! I've got like 5 or 6 more requests I'm gonna try and do this week sooo yeahh... Also big shout out to Grammarly for correcting all 999999 writing mistakes I made in this one. Again any feedback good or bad welcomed! Have fun reading!

Word Count: 1.7k (Boom)

As you stare longingly at Alexia, your thoughts wander to the current predicament you’re in. You and Alexia had been friends with benefits for a couple of months. At first, it was just the consequence of a night with a few too many drinks in it. Then, it was celebrating Barca winning the league (again). After three “one time only” nights, both of you knew there was a little something more. That’s when Alexia came up with the brilliant idea of friends with benefits. Alexia also came up with the idea that there would be no strings attached, no caught feelings, you guys would be fuck buddies and teammates, nothing more. If one of you called upon the other, they would be there, but the next day there would be no bringing up what happened the night before. Sure, you liked her as more than a friend, but anything to keep her in your life while also having a little taste of what it’s like to be with Alexia.

As you guys started preparing for the World Cup you would usually be excited, however, with the Spanish teams' current state a.k.a Jorge Vilda you weren’t nearly as excited as you should be. Jorge was being quite hard on players part of the “Las 15” that had come back. While you didn’t take part in the rejection of call-ups, you openly supported your teammates. 

As the tournament progressed, you tried your best to keep a distance from Alexia. Not that she noticed, she was under so much pressure from the media, fans, and Jorge. It didn’t help that her knee had started to bother her during the group stage. The team, despite all off-field events, had been performing well. You guys cruised through the group stage, finishing top of the group. Unfortunately, Spain lost in the quarterfinals. Everyone was heartbroken, and of course, Vilda was not very happy. After the game, Vilda said some terrible, terrible things to the team and you specifically. You had not played your best game ever, but for him to blame it all on you? It made Alexia’s blood boil. 

Throughout the tournament, Alexia realized just how much you meant to her. She was able to admit that you were important to her. She, however, refused to believe that her care for you ran deeper than just friends, who occasionally fucked. So, as the new season at Barca began the two of you kept your current relationship the same. You knew you were in love with Alexia, at this point, there was no denying it. Alexia, on the other hand, kept denying and denying her feelings for you. 

“So, how’s it going Alexia?” Ingrid asks. She was probably your best friend on the team and the only one who knew about your current situation.

You sigh, “I don’t know Ingrid, every time I feel like she likes me back she goes and says something about how she thinks the friends-with-benefits idea is perfect for us. Or as soon as I think that I might have a shot with her, she’s talking about her latest match on some dating site.” 

It was no secret that Alexia was on multiple dating apps. She was always going on dates with different people, it seemed none of them ever stuck for more than two or three dates. It bothered you to no end, here you were ready to do anything for Alexia, willing to drop everything if she ever called, yet you know she wouldn’t do the same for you. 

“Well, maybe just give her signs that you like her and want to be more than just friends with benefits,” the Norwegian suggests.

“Signs? What does that mean?”

“Doing things for her, to you know, show her that you care for her in a different way than friends.”

You think about it for a couple of seconds, “So just like, be extra nice to her?”

“Yeah, basically,” Ingrid says with a shrug. You nod. You can do that. That’s easy, just show her that you care about her.

Over the next couple weeks, you did everything you and Ingrid could think of to show Alexia you like her. Bringing her coffee in the mornings, her favourite candies left at her locker, buying her food whenever the team ate out, anything you could do you did. It was so obvious that even some of the rest of the team started to pick up on it.

“Why don’t you ever buy me coffee, Y/N?” Mapi whines with a cheeky grin. One that quickly disappears after receiving a sharp glare from her girlfriend. You turn red before stuttering out a comeback,

“I don’t know Mapi, but maybe you should think about your girlfriend before asking other women to buy you coffee.” The look of true fear that crosses Mapi’s face is enough to distract the rest of the team enough for you to slip out of the locker room and onto the pitch. 

“So you really like her, huh?” You are startled by the voice, thinking you were the only one out here. When you turn around you’re met with Keira giving you a soft smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say quickly, hoping to avoid the question.

“So?”

“So what?” You try to play dumb.

“Do you like Alexia? And don’t try to lie Y/N,” Keira asks, pushing you to tell her.

“I think I love her if I’m being honest. She’s in my head 24/7, I can’t stop thinking about her,” you admit shyly.

“Then why not tell her that?” 

“I’m scared. What happens if I ask her out and she says no? I think I would have to move clubs,” you say in a joking tone, but both you and Keira know it wasn’t a joke. She looks at you sympathetically,

“Let’s say that does happen, you get that initial embarrassment over with and then you start getting over her. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but if she rejects you there will be other people. It’s not like she’s your only chance at love, mate.” 

You ponder over her words for a bit before speaking, “I guess you’re right, I should ask her out. Should I ask her out? I shouldn’t ask her out.” Your mind races, then Keira puts her hands on your shoulders and gives you a look. “Okay, I’ll go ask her out.” You walk away feeling nervous and confident at the same time if that’s possible.

As you approach Alexia’s door you feel nervous as hell. The second you knock on it you know there is no going back. So, when she opens the door and sees you, fidgeting with the flowers in your hands, you want to immediately run away. At this point, though, you have to see it through, no chickening out now. 

“Hey Ale,” you can’t keep the nervousness out of your voice.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?” She senses your nerves and takes hold of your hand to try and calm you down. Smiling at the contact you take a breath before spitting it out,

“Wouldyouliketogoonadatewithme?” Confused, Alexia asks you to repeat what you said. You sigh and say slower,

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” You then hold your breath, as Alexia processes what you said. Then, an expression comes across her face that you can’t quite explain, it’s almost a look as if she’s in pain and then apologetic. 

“Uhm, Y/N, I’m really sorry…” She trails off. When you get the gist of what’s saying, your shoulders slump and your face heats up with embarrassment.

“Yeah, no that’s okay. Don’t worry about it, Ale.”

“I’m really sorry, I just don’t like you like that,” she says feeling worse and worse every passing second.

“I get it, anyways these are for you,” reaching out and giving her the bouquet of flowers you were holding before turning and walking away, head hanging low. 

Alexia couldn’t keep her mind off of you for the next couple of days. Anytime she saw you in training she would try and catch your eye. It seemed, though, that you were determined not to speak to or even make eye contact with her. The entire team saw it, how you slowly cut yourself off from everyone, how you refused to come to team bonding nights, how you stopped going out with the team. For you it became, go to training and go home, nothing more. You had always been relatively quiet, but you didn’t even speak to anyone unless you were on the pitch. This concerned everyone, and Alexia couldn’t help but feel responsible for you isolating yourself. It was also around this time that Alexia started feeling like she made a mistake. Every date she went on she would always imagine that it was you across from her. That you were the one holding her hand and kissing her. So, as the January transfer officially opened, Alexia decided she was going to ask you out.

She originally planned to catch you after training, but you weren’t there. When she asked Ingrid about you the Norwegian just shrugged and said she hadn’t heard from you and that you probably were just not feeling well or something. Now, as Alexia walked up the stairs to your apartment she took note of how nothing was hanging off your front door. Usually, you had some sort of wreath or decoration hanging, she shook it off and put it down as you just forgot to put a new one up after Christmas. She knocked and stood waiting for a couple of seconds. That’s when she saw that your door was slightly ajar. She slowly pushed it open,

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Fully entering the apartment, she let out a gasp. It was completely bare, with nothing more than a couple of boxes and trash bags left. At that exact moment, she got a notification from Instagram. Tapping on it, her heart sank as she saw the post on your account announcing your transfer to Bayern Munich.

Alexia sank to her knees and started sobbing uncontrollably.

Hope you enjoyed this one! Do we want a part 2?

[reds-writings]

okay so you begging for more old rust prompts has timed really well with my need for old rust fics and the last two you wrote (and also joni mitchell’s music being put back on spotify, thank god) but i was wondering if you could potentially write something along the lines of prompt #8 on the fluff pt 2 prompt list (sharing a kiss while cleaning a wound — potentially after the beer fail lol) but yeah the lyrics from the chorus of case of you really just made me think of our reader and old rust despite it all:

Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine You taste so bitter and so sweet Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling And I would still be on my feet Oh, I would still be on my feet

i love joni mitchell oh my goodnes. you are a genius anon!!

 By the following morning, it turned out Rust did indeed manage to agitate his stitches with his late-night tumble. The line of your brow was set hard in concentration as you prodded at the gash with as much gingerly precision as you could conjure. He tried his damnedest not to flinch given you’d already fallen into enough of a tizzy over the whole ordeal and didn’t need your nerves driven up the wall any further. He loathed the feeling of being any sort of burden towards you but after the stern talking to you laid out on him he had no choice but to sit without another self-deprecating word. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day I swear it.” You huffed out a breath as you wiped away any remnants of dried blood clean from his skin. 

He tried not to bristle visibly at the remark, reminding himself that you didn’t really mean it in the literal sense. Though, with his severe lack of desire for taking care of himself and your incessant need to make sure he didn’t succeed in giving up once and for all there had been plenty of close calls over the years where his brashness could’ve taken you out for good. Another factoid in the sea of many that he tortured himself with time and time again.

The dulcet tones of Joni Mitchell came from the older-than-dirt record player you hadn’t had the heart to ever get rid of after all this time as you carried out your worry-warting on the Texan. You remember you used to joke about the lyrics of Case of You eerily pertaining to Rust’s presence in your life way back then. He didn’t think himself anything close to holy but that was beside the point. No matter where he went off to, a piece of his soul had undoubtedly been melded with yours to the point of no possible undoing. There was no scrubbing him clean from the recesses of your mind or the deep-set cracks of your weary heart. 

God knows you tried with all you had when everything went to shit. 

You’d have to throw the sheets in the laundry once you were done but it was more than likely a lost cause with the array of staining from his soiled bandages that had taken residence throughout the night. You could run out in a bit to get some new ones in town. That or you’d have to test if he could finally make it up the stairs to your room without being too winded. 

Satisfied with your work, you stood to your full height and finished wrapping up a clean set of bandages around his torso. Not much had changed about him physically, maybe he was a little softer around the edges but that did nothing to smother the fire his presence lit in you without fail. Marty could whinge on and on about how Rust looked now but he was just as tragically beautiful to you as he’d always been. Your eyes met and you couldn’t help but melt a little. He was here. He was okay. You just had to keep reminding yourself. 

Bringing up a hand to tuck some hair behind his ear you leaned in to press your lips to his. First, shortly then with the second press, you deepened it a bit more. A large palm came to grip loosely at the back of your neck in reciprocation and you could’ve seeped through the floor then and there. Your kisses transferred to stamp themselves beneath his eye, then his cheekbone, making their way up to his hairline so you could embrace him for a moment longer. 

With a shuddering exhale, his body released any remaining tension it had as he let himself bask in the warmth of your affection. You leaned back to look at him once more,

“I gotta hop to town real quick. Getcha some new sheets and a couple of other things. Think you can steer from bein' accident-prone for an hour or two?” 

Rust tsked and shook his head slightly, “Can’t say.”

“Does that mean you wanna try makin’ it to the truck today? Would probably do you good to get some air and actual sunshine. Pallid don’t suit you none-” You dodged his incoming pinch. His predictable knee-jerk response to your playful ribbing was as old as time. It never truly annoyed him as much as he played it up. He'd selfishly rather have you this way and happy than keeping yourself at a distance forever.

“I’d be inclined to try should you be quiet.” He half-snarked and you scoffed in mock offense. 

“I’m a delight. Ask anyone-"

“Mhm.” 

“You’re being quite rude to the woman nursing you back to health and that I can’t abide. Lest you wanna try gettin’ dressed on your own without topplin' over.” You started to take some steps away, an empty threat of leaving him in his place.

No other snipe followed, just an outstretched hand after a stubborn moment or two. You snickered as you helped him off the kitchen counter and to his room so that you could set out for the day’s endeavors. 

[antimonyandthyme]

antimony do u have anything else from ur carcar tlou au?? just read it and i’m obsessed

anon thank you so much for inquiring about the tlou au... it brings me great joy to imagine carcar navigating a cordyceps infested world... put them into situations amirite?

drew comparisons with joel and ellie and carlos and oscar because both parties basically speedran the enemies to whatever-it-is-they-are-to-each-other-now course. joel would of course level the entire world for ellie. he has in fact, levelled the entire world for ellie, and i see carlos doing the same, because he has decided oscar is his to protect. except there's nothing special about the package. oscar isn't a cure. they're both just trying to survive.

in my head, just like joel, carlos picks oscar up by accident. not from any group, just by coincidence. magnets, right? oscar just has something carlos wants, and carlos is very good and dispatching infected. after max and charles, he thinks he's a little too good.

after max and charles, he also travels exclusively alone, but after bringing oscar back to his city, only to see the kid bury the one person he went back to the city for, carlos offers it up without thinking. hey, wanna come along with me? i'm not very good at taking care of people. in fact the last two people i travelled with, well. but i can't really leave you here, tear-tracks still wet on your face. charles would be very disappointed in me. so. wanna come along with me?

oscar of course says yes. anything to not be alone.

carlos doesn't talk much in the car rides, until oscar somehow manages to steal them more country music cds. then carlos talks, while oscar makes fun of his music tastes. but keeps stealing more country music cds.

of course, because the world hasn't changed and everyone is still fucked up, oscar gets taken. by whatever group, the fireflies, the seraphites. whatever it is, oscar gets taken. maybe over something as simple as jacking a car with a working cd player, after their old one breaks down.

there's a switch at the back of carlos's head. he didn't think it'd be so easy, but it is, to go from killing the infected to killing anyone who stands in between him and oscar. he pulls oscar out, unconscious but wondrously unharmed. carlos's body count of non-infected probably rivals that of the infected now. that's how many people he works his way through to reach oscar.

carlos doesn't say anything when oscar wakes up in the car. he'd forgotten to wipe the blood off his own face, before getting out of there in a hurry. oscar does it for him, wasting precious water so he can clean off carlos's brow.

this is what you get for liking country music so much, oscar says. carlos hears, i don't give a shit about what you've done, i'm staying with you.

and then they never speak of this incident again.

[abstract-crossverse]

breathes for air I WAS THAT ONE ANON THAT SAW YOU IN THE DARK DECEPTION FANDOM LONG AGO so I see ur taking Doors requests may I May I request a fluffy Seek x reader thank you so much (vanishes)

Hi hello! Good to see you again even if I don't quite remember you, anyway, here’s the goop man you ordered, my dearest apologies for taking so long, life has been a mess This will be a one-shot sort of thing, I hope that's okay! Honestly I missed writing, I have to do this more often again, finally clean the dust off this ole blog

CW/TW// Description of wound, wound, mention of needles(in a stinging feeling way), blood, general injury

===========================

“Scrapes” // [Seek x Reader, fic, fluff]

Seek and you had been a couple for a couple of weeks now, the rest of the hotel’s entities still don't know this, and Seek would honestly rather keep it that way, it’s none of their business anyway.

How come? Well regardless if they told the others, they’d still kill you the same if you end up getting caught unless Seek manages to convince them to not kill you outright, which is hard to do, some of the entities simply don't give a fuck, it doesn't matter, nothing changes aside the fact they know, and your beloved — don't get him wrong he adores everyone in the hotel like family — but he doesn't trust everyone enough to not let that fact slip to Jack, the Hotel’s founder, one of them anyway.

Jack is… he’d never let him live it down, not to mention the entity would either kill you permanently or turn you into one of them as Seek’s punishment for being anything more than a monster designed and ordered to kill any Players in Jack’s twisted game of… what even would this be? Tag? Hide and Seek? He doesn't know and he doesn't care.

And despite your relationship, you still attempt to leave the hotel, repeating the same routine over and over as you wake up in the lobby, get to the hotel, go through and either die to someone or get to the elevator. Seek doesn't mind, he doesn’t blame you, he’d also try to leave if he were still human like you, he does give you an easier time to escape his corridor when he needs to pop up, being intentionally slower or pretend to be stuck in his own sludge to give you a head start, he doesn't want to kill you, he hates doing that, so he rigs his hallway for you to escape, more so, he rigs himself more than his hallway.

At the moment, Seek had been waiting for you to get to his level, his brother Hide alerting him of you coming near, Hide is the only one who does know of your relationship, the sibling is far too shy to talk with anyone else nor do they even like Jack to interact with the entity further than a greeting, he was grateful for that at least.

He heard footsteps enter the hallway from under the floorboards, waiting as this could be a different person, he never knew, the floorboards were especially hard to peek through, so he waited until he heard the knock he told you to do. Once you tapped your shoe in the rhythm he taught you, he excitedly seeped through the boards into a puddle on the ground before forming into his usual humanoid shape.

“Salutations, my darling, how have you been-” he stopped, mid-way into fixing his tie, looking at your slumped form, puffy red eyes and occasional sniffles, you’ve been crying, he took another moment to look over you…

One of your arms was bloody, soaked almost. He had a hunch of who did this, but wasn't sure if it was correct.

You weren’t sad per se, more in pain than anything, he figured the pain was enough to bring you to tears, it stung his heart to see you this way. He looked at you softly as she tilted his head slightly, offering his hand to you, you took it as he silently led you to the next room, the library that would be usually falling apart when players came by, now intact had many bookshelves, chairs, lamps and drawers, including a big couch he sat you down on

He opened the window next to you both, taking a first aid kit from one of the tar covered arms that usually showed themselves on the last stretch of your lover’s chase, he closed the window as the arm slithered back into the void outside, sitting down next to you as he opened the kit and reached a hand to you, silently asking for your injured arm as you rubbed your eyes from their wetness.

“So… tell me dear, what happened?” he spoke softly lifting your sleeve and taking a look at the damage, your arm still soaked in blood, he could assume a chunk of skin was missing

“... I got scratched by Ambush…” you leaned against the couch as you winced at the burning sensation the air hitting your wound gave you, Seek gave you a side glance, he wanted further explanation, you let out a sigh “I got ambushed by Ambush, almost buffered my timing and his particles grazed my arm real bad-” you hissed in pain and tensed as Seek suddenly had a warm wet towel in hand, patting your wound gently, you got confused for a moment before realizing the arm probably brought it to him again, you could feel light cold spots on the towel caused by it getting wet by the rain outside

“I see, well I am glad you didn’t meet your demise today.” he stated as he cleaned the blood, he could see the wound more clearly now as the blood was mostly clean aside the new blood starting to pool again, you had a chunk of skin missing as if someone had ripped part of your skin with wax or something similar, the skin under incredibly reddish and sensitive

He was surprised to hear that Ambush had caused this, he was almost certain that Screech was the culprit, this critter sometimes took out more than he could chew, including chunks of skin or flesh. 

The entity heard your nails scratch the couch as you gripped the seat, he felt your arm tense in his hold as he patted the wound with a dry towel before applying an antibiotic to it, stopping for a moment to press a kiss to your temple as you groaned in pain

“My dearest apologies this hurts so much, but as is the nature of healing, I have to do this, Dove.” He said, gently rubbing his forehead to the side of your head as he continued to apply the ointment, the burning was going away, but it was still there to sting, like needles to your arm, you winced before laying your head on his shoulder as he began bandaging the injury, sighing in relief as the pain subsided a bit, there was nothing he could do if this lead into needing stitches, he’s no medical profession nor can those claws of his sew at all

Leaning his head on top of yours as he took your hand in his, he spoke

“Due to the nature of the hotel, You’ll heal far quicker than you would usually, however we’ll still need to treat it and change the bandages until it is healed.” You hummed in exhaustion, acknowledging what he told you as you relaxed against him, at least you were with him now, you could relax for a while until he had to go again to do whatever with the other players that came around.

“Thank you, Seek…” you mumbled as he moved to hold you, deciding to pull you on top of him as you laid himself down on the couch, you obliged and moved yourself as he silently wanted cuddles. He made sure your injured arm wouldn't be disturbed or put any pressure on as he held you, your head on his chest as he laid kisses on your head, you giggled, there we go

“Hm… Other than that unfortunate event, what else did you do today, my dear?” he moved a hand to rub your back, your legs tangled as you sighed over the comforting movement along your spine, “Well… I talked with a couple new people that end up here, poor guys were freaking out…” you chuckled, “but otherwise things were fine, same old, I did see Halt today, it’s always interesting to see them as they don't often show up…”

Your lover hummed, delightfully surprised at the mention of his ghostly friend, “ah, they came around, how lovely. Have you ever tried striking a conversation?” he looked down at you softly as his hand moved to play with your hair now “I tried yea, but they never respond, I see they get surprised at it though, I don't think they expect anything other than silence from Players that know their deal or freaking out to themselves.” you laughed, Seek let out a chuckle as well

“Ah yes, they are never one to chat too much, it’s alright though, I’m sure they’ll come around eventually if you really want them to.” he assured, closing his eye as he felt your heartbeat and warmth against him, he was usually always cold, it comforted him to feel your form against him, assure him that you're still here, alive and breathing.

You closed your eyes as well, both resting in comfortable silence as you feel the rise and fall of his chest, once you mentioned his constant stillness whenever you two cuddle is slightly unnerving, so he makes an effort to imitate breathing, something he hasn't done in so long, it took him a while to get used to it again, but he says it's also comforting to him, reminding him he’s still human in a way, you wonder how he does it.

Eventually he felt your hand that rested on his shoulder slide and fell to the cushions, he chuckled silently as he opened his eye to find you comfortably asleep on his chest, he went back to rubbing your back as you cuddled more into him in your sleep. One of the big arms opened the window quietly and draped a blanket over the two of you before slithering back into the void and closing the window, Seek listened to your gentle snores and the rain hitting the walls outside, for such a day to end in comfort and warmth, he never thought he’d have a moment like this before you showed up.

He carefully moved to press a kiss to the top of your head before laying his head back down, maybe he could get some shut-eye himself, he doesn't quite remember how sleeping feels like anymore, what a lovely way to try that again.

===========================

[sgiandubh]

Cut the (Ghenea) crap

I have been anticipating since at least last Friday the very recent rumor overdrive about S and Mrs. Mădălina Ghenea, Romanian Horizontal Extraordinaire and I howled like a pack of hyenas in the dull silence of my flat.

Of all the rumors featuring S and divers representatives of the International Fitness Harem, this one stroke me as the most ridiculous ever. Downright scraping the bottom of the barrel, here, to be honest.

Now, as all of you know, I happen to be Romanian and if anything, you should at least grant me the benefit of a flawless knowledge of the terrain, so to speak. And as far as erotically ambitious Romanian chicks go, let's just say I am a sweet summer child, compared to this one.

Mădălina hails from Slatina, a small town in Oltenia, one of the most fascinating parts of the Romanian Southwest (I have a good quarter pint of Oltenian blood myself, so I think I know what the hell I am talking about: quick-witted, ambitious people, with a devastating, sarcastic sense of humor). She comes from virtually nothing: a working-class family of former farmers drawn to the nearest town by the quick and demented industrialization of the country during the Sixties, which is to say, the Lumpenproletariat our German friends can immediately relate to. But when you spend your childhood in the dull and poor anonymity of a non-descript block of flats (matchbox upon matchbox upon matchbox - think of it as a dignified favela of sorts), the only thing you want to do is to get the damn out of there, at all costs. Which, I have to say, she brilliantly and ruthlessly managed to, almost in record time. Granted, she is beautiful (to me, she is very cliché, but for any foreign male she is a Wanton Goddess of Sex, I suppose) and she does have the street smarts to safely get her through any urban jungle of this planet, too.

You can peruse her war credentials here, for a quick overview of the character, if you really, really, really need to: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C4%83d%C4%83lina_Diana_Ghenea.

I will just add (and you will have to trust me on this one), a couple of things:

Cynically speaking, she could be a decently plausible beard for S. After all, she did beard for di Caprio (an info I just corroborated over the phone with a friend who is a cinema & TV journalist, back home). Problem is, a woman like this is way over budget. I am afraid The Boy doesn't qualify, bless his heart: too meh for her eclectic, but high-end tastes (local cardboard millionaires, Bulgarian tennis players of the light mafioso type, Philipp Plein, Italian TV beaux and yup, Gerard Butler - but it did not end amicably, enough said). You have to understand that woman saw it all and she won't settle for a pap walk in the pishing drizzle of GLA, or even NY. This one knows perfectly well diamonds are a girl's best friend. And if you doubt me, maybe you won't doubt her, when she declared three days ago for the Daily Fail something along these lines:

[source, LOL: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-12681539/EDEN-CONFIDENTIAL-Sexiest-woman-world-Madalina-Ghenea-yearns-real-man-stealing-hearts-Leonardo-DiCaprio-Gerard-Butler-Michael-Fassbender.html]

Read my lips: not going to happen. Not in a million years, not even for the sake of the fucking Narrative. Not even on a desert island. Never. Nuh-oh. No way.

At any rate, if God knows what sick plot twist happens, you'll learn it here first, probably: the Romanian gossip press would put to shame poor Deux Moi, with its needlessly chatty, exuberant, salaciously detailed style.

So I will say again here what I did say in a comment to an Anon who brought it up first @bat-cat-reader's :

TERMINAȚI CU TÂMPENIILE. Which is simply translated as CUT THE CRAP.

Of course.

[slothmeters]

A little birdy told me - Trevor Zegras

- w/c - 819

- warnings - injury, cussing,

- this is for the anon who wanted an enemies to lovers ft. Trevor:) I hope you like it! I’m new to writing to please give me tips and things that i need to work on 🫶🏼🫶🏼

Trevor Zegras has hated me ever since I joined the team as a trainer. This boy basically refused to get hurt, or if he did, he refused any form of treatment from me.

We were at an away game in Toronto, and the game was going great for the ducks. I was in the locker room prepping the tape, bandages, and gauze because it was nearing the end of the first period; I knew that the players would want to re-tape their wrists and ankles before going back out on the ice for another 20 minutes.

Everything was going smoothly until I heard one of the coaches yelling for me to come out onto the ice, someone had been hurt. bad.

“Y/ln get your ass out there right now. We have a player down and he’s not getting up. He’s awake, but his leg doesn’t feel that way to him.”

I sprinted out of the locker room and onto the ice not knowing what I was getting myself into.

The short run to the ice seemed longer than it needed to be with how quiet everyone was in there. It was like you could hear your own blood flowing.

Arriving to the incident, I saw who was hurt, and pushed every ounce of bitchiness I had in me to help him.

“Trevor, I know it hurts, but you have to stay still so we can get you off of the ice to get a better look at you ok?” I said while he just had his eyes tightly shut the entire time, continuing to move his hands and arms around the areas of his leg that were in pain.

As soon as he heard my voice his eyes snapped open and he gave me a scared look before turning to another trainer, “No, I am not having her help me. Please, anyone but her.” He was pleading, but nobody listened as we helped him up to one leg skate out of here.

Since I was the main Anaheim trainer, I was the one who had to evaluate Trevor. He was begging for another doctor until I shut him up.

“Trevor I swear, I don’t know what I did to you for you to be a dick to me, but I need to look at your leg. If you get hurt worse cause you keep pulling and thrashing away from me that’s on you!”

He stayed silent for the remainder of me checking his leg out, and it turns out he had torn his acl and mcl and was going to need further testing to confirm what was going to happen to him.

“We’re going to have to take you by ambulance to the nearest hospital to get some more tests, is that ok?”

He nodded slowly, before looking back to the TV to watch the game. He was getting frustrated at himself and at his team. 1. because he wasn’t out there helping the team win the game. 2. they were falling behind toronto by 1 and not being smart in his eyes.

When the medics from the ambulance arrived to help bring Trevor to it, he stayed silent until we got in the back of the ambulance, where it was just us.

“You didn’t do anything to me. That’s the thing. I just don’t know how to communicate.”

I looked up at him and I was confused as to what he was talking about, until I thought about what I had said to him in the training room earlier.

“Trev-“

“Let me finish. I finally know what I’m gonna say. Please let me say it.”

We made eye contact as he started speaking again, “I didn’t know how to communicate that I found you cute. That’s why I pushed you away. I know it’s a lousy excuse but it’s all I had.”

Everything started to make sense. That’s why he would never want to be hurt around me. He wanted me to see him as someone who was strong and unbothered.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for your punk ass to get hurt just so you could see that I wasn’t bad. I knew that you would come out of it soon enough. A little birdy with a name that rhymes with Jamie Drysdale told me that you found me cute, and I may have told that bird that I thought he was cute too. He just needs to get his head out of his ass.”

His eyes filled with shock at first, but that shock began to turn into softness as he processed what I said.

“It’s come full circle. Now we’re in the back of an ambulance on the way to the hospital because I got hurt.”

“Geez Trevor, way to ruin the moment.” We both laughed, as he looked at me with a genuine smile, something I never thought would be directed towards me.

[thewertsearch]

Trolls Made Our Universe: The Analysis

Let's talk about it.

Looking back, it's pretty clear that this was always our destination. The comic's scope has been on an upward trajectory for thousands of pages, and the Ultimate Alchemy hype has been building since midway through Act 4.

Hell, even I thought the planet I theorized about was just going to be a stepping stone to something bigger. Homestuck just keeps escalating - we might not even stop here, although I can't predict what the next step would be, since we're working with multiple varieties of multiverse already.

Anyway, this reveal confirms that Sburb's grandstanding about the Players' importance isn't just hot air - they really do serve a critical purpose. Assertions that this 'purpose' is more important than saving Earth are still dubious - but now, I can at least understand the coldly utilitarian place the game is coming from.

I still don't know why it has to work this way, but now I finally know what's happening. Earth's universe was born from the blood of Alternia, and the kids were created to perpetuate the cycle again, creating a new universe from the blood of Earth.

Close! It was less of a gasp, though, and more of an under-the-breath 'what the fuck'. I don't know why a universe surprised me as much as it did - like I said, I was already half-expecting a planet!

I think the real sticking point is the difference in scale - and, as a consequence, the difference in Grist cost.

It makes a certain intuitive sense that you could convert the Denizen Grist into a planet - comparable in size, presumably, to the planetoids that the Denizens call home. But a universe is an entirely different animal, one which would dwarf the Incipisphere by dozens of orders of magnitude.

Extrapolating from the typical volume of a Grist piece, four Land-sized vaults of the stuff wouldn't be nearly enough. Even if Denizen Grist is a million times more valuable than normal, and each Denizen released a million times the Incipisphere's volume in Grist, it still wouldn't be nearly enough.

I guess the game could just hardcode the Grist cost of a universe down to a manageable value, but that would break the game's own rules, and doesn't seem in spirit with how its progression system works.

No, I think something screwy must be going on with the Denizen hoards. Maybe they're full of special Grist, each piece of which is worth 1e70 normal pieces - or maybe picking them up actually multiplies the value of your grist cache, rather than adding to it.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the hoards are this comically large. After all, their value is beyond even Vriska's imagination.

The exact mechanics here are definitely worth speculating about. Let's talk about how, exactly, this universe may have come to be. The trolls obviously can't have crafted this thing atom-by-atom, or even planet-by-planet - not unless Aradia took them into the Hyperbolic Time Chamber for a billion years of blueprinting.

A lot of Alternian culture is integrated into Earth, though, and it had to get there somehow. In keeping with what anon said, I think these ideas were sort of 'merged' into the universe when it was created.

After all, Sburb is all about merging ideas, and we've been working with idea-merging machines since day one!

The trolls alchemized their universe, even if they didn't use a traditional Alchemiter to do so. If they wanted their universe to exhibit certain traits, all they needed to do was feed it certain ingredients, merging them with whatever 'universe' object they presumably gained access to at the end of the game. I'm just going to call it the seed.

Maybe the reason humans look so much like trolls is because the trolls inserted their codes into their universe's alchemy recipe, perhaps attempting to revive the troll species without the Matriorb.

Wait, scratch that.

Maybe the reason humans look so much like trolls, and have red blood, is because one specific troll's code ended up in their recipe.

Come to think of it - since we're already doing large-scale alchemy, there's a pretty easy way for the trolls to ensure that every trait they want ends up in their new universe.

All they'd need is a fetch modus and a drawing tablet.

If you're being evicted into a new universe, you might as well make it feel like home.

Adding Alternia's code to the seed would, in one fell swoop, explain all the facets of troll culture observed on Earth. It would also, in a way, 'resurrect' the troll homeworld without truly reviving it - a bittersweet prize for our victorious Players.

As mentioned above, it would be weird if Earth was the only planet to inherit DNA from Old Man Alternia. It would make sense if each civilization exhibited different Alternian traits - like, maybe there's an exoplanet out there somewhere where lusi evolved, and another where everyone has the same necromantic powers as Aradia.

It also means the universe was probably full of space empires. If the meteors didn't get Earth, Neo-Alternia might have eventually come knocking...

I also think I was conflating the signs on the trolls' clothes with the signs of the Alternian Zodiac, without considering that those might be two entirely different sets of 'signs'. The trolls themselves never refer to Cancer or Aquarius as Zodiac signs, after all. Maybe the Extended Zodiac is a different thing entirely.

Anyway - yeah, that is interesting. The kids' universe was created by twelve Players, and now its stars bear their signature - so whose signature is embedded in the trolls' stars?

An implied 48-Player session sounds amazing. Doubly so, if Hussie's using Squiddles to imply a Horrorterror session. That's an absolutely fascinating idea, on so many levels, and I do hope we see the trolls speculating about their own creators at some point.

Of course, this 48-sign Squiddles stuff could also be a red herring. I'm getting used to how this comic works, and just so it's on record...

...this is what I suspect is actually going on.

In any case, I'm as hyped as you all are!

Hussie's hand has finally been shown, and Homestuck has been revealed as the creation myth that had been built up all along. I can't wait to see what's next.

[legobiwan]

What do you think the rest of the mario crew thinks of luigis villains?

Oooh hoo hoo. Fun question, anon! I'll include my projected opinions of Bowser, Peach, Mario and maybe a little addendum of E. Gadd as they're the main players who would have definite and varying things to say about each villain.

Bowser

Antasma: Thinks he's an absolute pushover and annoying, to boot. 10/10 would join forces with and betray again as it was almost a little too easy.

King Boo: Is extremely wary of him and tries to avoid entering any deals or partnerships with him, as even Bowser thinks King Boo is seriously deranged and from the rumours he's heard from the Boos who immigrated to the Darklands, he is a petty, tyrannical, and insane ruler. (Not that Bowser isn't petty and tyrannical - at least in his own mind. But, in reality, Bowser is pretty fair according to Darklands culture and treats his minions well, even if he yells and stomps around a lot).

Dimentio: Hates him with a burning passion and wants a chance to go one on one with him, just so he can personally stuff a sock in the smooth-talking jester's mouth. Bowser is always open to less-than-healthy alliances for personal gain, but even he knows Dimentio is someone you do not do deals with if you want to live. But by the lava gods, would he love to dig him up from the River Twygz, just for the opportunity to bury him again.

Peach

Antasma: Frankly, to Peach, Antasma is another villain-of-the-week who kidnapped her. She has no patience for villains who rely solely on kidnapping as their modus operandi, it's insulting and she's over it. She'll, of course, keep an open line of communication with the Pi'illo Kingdom in case Antasma or someone similar tries to make a pass at the Dream Stone, which is a wildly dangerous artifact.

King Boo: Even though King Boo did kidnap her once, Peach holds less disdain for King Boo than Antasma, as, at least with King Boo, her imprisonment wasn't targeted solely on her. She has a healthy respect for King Boo's powers and does not want to get the Mushroom Kingdom entangled with whatever bizarre blood feud is going on between him and Luigi.

Dimentio: She's just glad he's (hopefully) dead. This hasn't stopped her from drafting up a contingency plan to account any reappearance, just in case. She considers him one of the most dangerous villains of all time and worse, due to the whole Chaos Heart fiasco, that contingency plan she's created? Strategies to contain Luigi are also in that plan, and she hates every word she has to dictate to her scribes.

Mario

Antasma: Hates him for the fact he managed to infiltrate his brother's dreams and not only violate his deepest thoughts, but bring Bowser along for that ride. Good riddance to bad rubbish, as the old saying goes.

King Boo: Wants. His. Head. On. A. Platter. (But also, that whole thing makes him doubt himself? He's supposed to the protector, not Luigi. And three times now, Mario has managed to fail and been taken captive by ghosts. He can't figure out why he's so ill-disposed to deal with the paranormal. He needs to fix it).

Dimentio: Mario simultaneously despises Dimentio and is also terrified of him, as he's one of the only bad guys he's never truly been able to kill. Sure, they brought down Super Dimentio (Mario doesn't want to think about that, the other way his brother was folded and stretched into a grotesque monster of the apocalypse), but even then, Dimentio had one last trick up his sleeve and if not for Count Bleck and Tippi, the worlds would have ended and that damned jester and his in-thrall brother would have been left kings of an empty universe. More than King Boo, the nightmare that returns to Mario again and again is Dimentio rising from Underwhere with dangerous, silky words, somehow convincing Luigi to join forces with him to reignite the Chaos Heart and bring reality crashing to an end.

Post-script: E. Gadd

I think of all the villains, E. Gadd would be most fascinated by Antasma. King Boo is a nuisance, one created - if he were to be honest with himself - in part due to his own negligence. He'll never know everything about ghosts, but he knows a damn lot after all these decades. But to traverse the world of dreams and use them to alter reality - that is something E. Gadd has not encountered before, and he would love to study Antasma's powers and see how they align with the brainwave charts he's taken in secret of Luigi.

[barbwritesstuff]

Ugh i dont know if its just me (and its definitely not a complaint about you, you're wonderful), there's quit a few scenes, routes and even Ro's that i can never find unless i ask you about it specifically??? Am i just that dumb??

Like, just yesterday you casually posted "you can find Ravima in a gay bar in chapter 4" and no matter how many times i replayed the game i have never stumbled upon it :( literally did not know it existed until you talked about it.

Again this is just me venting about my own incompetence, its not a complaint ask about you at all Barb <3

.....also how do we meet Ravima in a gay bar?

Messages like this really scare me because I thought people wanted more interactivity. I thought replaying to find the other scenes would be fun, not frustrating or upsetting.

I really didn't mean to make you feel incompetent, anon. I just wanted to add value by making the game different if you make different choices. Thicker Than is not as liner as Blood Moon. There is a lot you'll miss if you only play once, and that is by design. Different choices result in different outcomes.

I thought players would like discovering those differences by replaying the game... but I get a lot of messages like this asking me for roadmaps on how to get certain moments which makes me think players aren't enjoying the replay experience. They don't want to try and figure out what else is out there. They're annoyed that they have to click through it again to see what they missed.

Which is valid but, like I said, really terrifies me because I'm worried I've messed up.

I think I have read the room wrong. I think overly interactive is annoying rather than fun. But I also don't know how to change it now. Thicker Than is too big to rewrite at this point.

I'm really sorry if my game made you feel dumb, but getting messages like this in my inbox really upsets me. I'm not going to respond to anymore roadmap requests for a while. I'm sorry.

[actualbird]

what is your ranking of all the main event stories we have received so far? (as in sott, enduring light, skadi etc)

OHHHH THIS IS A FUN QUESTION, THANK YOU ANON!!! let me go from my highest to lowest.

for this question, im taking "main event stories" to mean the Big 4 SSR Events where the event story involves the entire team all at once (so no xmas events or sotn, or solo or duo events). and i will be judging these events primarily on their event story (so not as much as the gameplay, though thatll also be a factor. but i wont be judging the cards)

OH DANG WHY DID I EXPLAIN IT, THE TOT WIKI DOES A MUCH BETTER JOB AT DEFINING BIG 4 SSR EVENTS, HERE, THIS IS WHAT IM JUDGING

anyhoo, here is my personal ranking!

FIRST PLACE: Mysteries of the Lost Gold

my beloved, my favorite, my perfect shining star. lost gold was the first big event i played and it has yet to be dethroned as my favorite event story of all of tot. absolute homerun of a rich story with intrigue, high stakes, a good balance of tender moments and lighthearted ones, and just SO gripping in terms of all of the story threads coming together, plus the absolutely A+ nxx team interactions. my advice to every new player who comes into my inbox is "PLAY THE LOST GOLD DLC" because i love it so much. i will never shut up about how i love it so much. it has our very first raven!luke sighting. it has marius nearly getting stabbed. it has artem with gun. it has vyn doing that THING with the bow and arrow. LIKE. THIS EVENT IS PERFECT TO ME. it'll take something really really special to dethrone it.

SECOND PLACE: Enduring Light

this isnt recency bias speaking but my real honest thoughts: this story delighted me to no end. i was kept on the edge my seat for every single phase, and the sheer novelty of the story's setup and the gameplay was such a nice change of pace after the previous event formats started to get repetetive. i especially loved that this time, we had to suspect the nxx boys as well because that really added to my enjoyment of this event. it really felt like a mystery that had to be solved by us, and not just a mystery that will unravel by itself as long as we keep playing, if that makes sense? my point is i was immensely immersed in enduring light and i love it lots lots lots. luke looking stupendously hot in his outfit during the entire event was also a huge plus.

THIRD PLACE: a tie between Blizzardous Threads of Red & Mystery of Bakerlon

i really loved BTR and bakerlon!!! both of their murder cases were adequately thrilling for me, though towards the end i could feel the adrenaline wearing off, if that makes sense? like by the 4th phase, things were slotting together already in a way that like lowered the feeling of intrigue. also i know i said i wouldnt judge much based on gameplay, but these two deserve a shoutout for MINIGAMES I WANT TO KILL W MY BARE HANDS. bakerlon's crystal tasks were so repetetive to me, and BTR's TIMED ESCAPE ROOM THINGIES heightened my blood pressure several times HAHA

FOURTH PLACE: To My Beloved: Moonlit Eve (anniv 2)

this has a soft spot in my heart for including all of the old NPCs from main story, and that was very heartwarming. while theres no mystery that needs solving, just seeing the team hang out together and have fun together was such a treat for my soul

FIFTH PLACE: Secrets of the Tomb

sott is where i'd say the event story quality is inching towards the meh scale. the mystery here was interesting but was not particularly gripping to me. it might just be a me thing, but i enjoyed the side stories (the ones you get with the boys when you investigate the artefacts) more than the actual event story itself.

SIXTH PLACE: A Love Poem to Skadi

ahhhhh skadi. psychological and medical malpractice horrors skadi.....HJSVKHSJDFDSF. i will admit, the mystery in this story is HORRIFIC and it was enjoyable to unravel it, but here is where i break my rule again of not talking about gameplay but mAAAAAAN THE GAMEPLAY HINDERED MY ENJOYMENT OF THE MAIN PLOT LOTS. it was rather difficult for me to do all the exploration in that manor and that stalled my absorption of the story too. plus, i think the fact that the story is Over made the story have a bit of a muted quality to it. not in a bad way (i distinctly remember i wrote a semi-analysis post about how i enjoyed that the story was in the Past) but it definitely affected the mood of the gameplay, if that makes sense?

(that is the third time ive said "if that makes sense" in this response, THREE STRIKES AND YER OOOOOUT)

SEVENTH PLACE: Blissful Fete (anniv 1)

be honest with me.....do YOU remember the event story plot of blissful fete? cuz i sure dont. JVSKDHFSJDHSF. i only remember getting very very mad at luke during that fucking minigame where we guess if the card is higher or lower. that being said, if i cant even remember much of the story, then it didnt make an impact on me and couldve been improved.

so thats my ranking! thank u for the ask :D

[faebriel]

could you give us some misc c!niki or c!rainduo headcanons.. missing them hours

so true anon. here are a couple miscellaneous headcanons (from the silly to the sad)

c!niki headcanons:

this is kind of a worldbuilding headcanon but i hc that some players are born to parents while others are spawned out of nowhere? niki spawned in as a kid in perfect smp and along with the other parentless kids grew up in a kind of village-raising-the-children situation. that sense of community never left her no matter where she went

she's never been very good at self-soothing behaviours, even as a kid. baking is kind of the closest thing she has and even that requires a level of focus and precision that after manberg she doesn't always have

i think she and fundy tried to give each other home piercings (nose piercing for niki, earlobe piercing for fundy) with somewhat varied results. if not for manberg they also would have discovered the stick and poke

big on gardening

she's a very poor medic - she tried to take the lead on curing tubbo's firework wounds in pogtopia but doesn't have a great sense for medicine. she had to take a lot of advice from techno which at the time she found very frustrating, as she took a while to warm up to him

her favourite baked goods are strawberry related

she also has a nigh-supernatural sense for guessing what people's favourite baked goods are on vibes alone

i think she's typically a decent advice giver but she really struggles to comprehend poor mental health in another person and in herself - she takes it far more personally than she should :( if she was a better smarter friend she would be able to solve all mental illnesses ever. makes her feel useless when her friends are suffering, and then when her own mental health deteriorates she has zero tools to detect, understand or do anything about it

part of the poor blood circulation brigade (not only are her hands freezing in winter, they are so hot in summer !! )

c!rainduo headcanons:

they would 100% do subtle dorky shit like have matching socks i think. niki has definitely knitted them at least one pair. they own l'manberg flag socks

neither of them are particularly athletic compared to their peers but they're absolute fiends in like. skipping rope competitions

they play guitar and sing together!! wilbur is a pretty prolific songwriter and she was one of the few people he'd sit down with and they'd sit there and pluck out the notes while he reworked the lyrics

in the oooold (read: pre-l'manberg) days, wilbur used to play music and sing while niki baked. he stopped doing this in l'manberg because he got too busy with the presidency, and she was never quite able to talk him into spending an afternoon on it again

they spoke very rarely in pogtopia. wilbur tended to avoid niki because he struggled to comfortably reconcile showing off how far he'd fallen with how much he'd always held niki up on a pedestal and wanted to show off his best qualities to impress her. so he just kind of avoided her. niki was increasingly hurt by this (and his abandonment of her in the first place) so she didn't really seek him out - and she figured they would be able to sort things out after the war ended and they won l'manberg back, anyway.

wilbur used to insist on showering niki with gifts on her birthday! niki is the kind of homemade-gift-bursting-with-love gift giver

wilbur picked up smoking as a stress management habit during his presidency, but niki didn't know about it until pogtopia - she once saw him put a butt out on his wrist and she ripped him a new one in front of tommy and techno and it made the cavern unbearably awkward for like three days

niki and that damn coat. okay so wilbur gave her That Damn Coat in pogtopia before the war and they were this 👌 close to being so damn obnoxious about having matching fits if they weren't going through the horrors of tragedy at the time. niki kept it in new l'manberg - she wore it pretty frequently, but it freaked a lot of people out (the memories were too fresh...), so eventually she did in fact stop wearing it in public. after doomsday, she picked up wearing it again (under the excuse that it gets cold down in the underground city, which would be super convincing if it wasn't thin and weedy. and it's not like there's anyone around to judge her anymore, is there? it's like the world's most fucked up comfort object except it provides zero comfort whatsoever

when she joins the syndicate phil and techno give her a lovely matching cloak with the rest of them, because it gets so cold up in the arctic. niki gets the postcard from wilbur after their reunion saying that he's gone off to utah and he's not coming back and she eventually (finally) burns the coat.

these got sad. umm pre-l'manberg they co-invented a cocktail so cursed that after one night of partying it was subsequently banned from all events ever. legend says you can go up to a gas station attendant in utah and say the phrase "soul sand skittle-savoy affair" and he will immediately gag

[ciaossu-imagines]

Hi! I was wondering if I could ask for a Class of the Titans Pirate AU? Thank you!! :))

Of course you can get this, anon dear! Thank you so much for the request and I hope you'll enjoy the headcanons, late as they are!

Okay, so I had a lot of conflicting ideas for this one. There was so much temptation to take it into traditional pirate territory, adventures on the high sea, Pirates of the Caribbean and One Piece inspiration, peg legs, etc. And I did have a lot of ideas of what I could do with that one.

But hear me out, guys…SPACE PIRATES! I've been a fan of Firefly, of Treasure Planet, and things along those lines for so very, very long, and in the end I thought that was a more fitting and fun Pirate! AU, plus kind of a fun twist on it.

So, we're setting this in a place far into the future. Space travel, between multiple planets and even between different galaxies, is not only a reality but quite commonplace. The world we're stepping into is also so much more technologically advanced. Oh, and Cronus? In this AU, he's this huge power. An alien lifeform that seems to possess immortality, Cronus has established a dictatorship after a war in which he took over multiple planets. With an army on his side, still waging a campaign to extend his reign of power, his government is ruthless and brutal. He and his army rule with an iron fist, with the people subjugated but with little opportunity to do much more than survive, and with no power to rise up against him. Besides, any uprising against him (and there was one, a major one) was quashed and struck down hard.

That uprising that was quashed. A lot of the major players were either killed or they scattered, fled and hid out in the furthest reaches of space. Seven of them in particular, the main source of the uprising and the real face of the attempted revolution, good people who fought hard to end Cronus' dictatorship, who helped people wherever and in whatever ways they could while fighting him and recruiting, were given extremely public executions, broadcast to all the planets and all the galaxies. It was a clear message - 'there is no possibility of escape. There is no possibility of resistance. Submit or die.'

Cronus' only real regret from that? The crew's ship, the Argonaut, could never be tracked down and destroyed along with its crew.

And maybe it's good that it couldn't be. Because fourteen years later, Amalthea, who was the wife of Jason, Captain of the original crew of the Argonaut, sent her now teenaged son on a dangerous mission, to the deepest reaches of their planet, through nasty and treacherous territory, to the location of the Argonaut.

Jay, Jason and Amalthea's son, finds the Argonaut. It's not in great condition, barely functioning at first, but he finds it. And once he boards it, he tries powering it on. But it doesn't really work…not until he gets frustrated at his lack of success and, when slamming his hand against a wall, ends up cutting himself, deeply enough to make him bleed.

See, The Argonaut is a ship, yes, a mechnical and technological thing…but it's also a sentient being and, upon Jay's blood being spilled on it, it reawakened as it was programmed to do. At first, I had thought of the idea of a holographic video popping up, but after thinking some more on it, I developed the idea a bit more…it's more a video that plays inside of Jay's head. It's his father talking to him. The crew had known they weren't going to survive, that they were boxed in and would be captured…and each did their part before they were, preparing their families, hiding the Argonaut and doing these videos. Jay's father tells him everything, from fatherly, personal, and sentimental stuff down to the solid facts and the plan - recruit the children of the passed crew members. Each of them has a role to play. Complete the reawakening of the Argonaut and follow the plan; battle Cronus and his army, small at first. Gather your forces and find allies. Then bring the uprising again…there's a plan that, for some reason, Jason and his crew are sure will work. Not for them though but for their children. Cronus will fall; the uprising will conquer.

And so Jay follows the plan. Dedicates himself to honouring his father and the fallen members of the crew and to bringing peace back to the various planets. And I will tell you, as with the video that plays in Jay's head, as each new crew member comes on, as their blood (just the tiniest bit) helps rewaken the sentient being part of the Argonaut, they each get their own video, which nobody but them can see, playing in their head, with messages from their own parent who passed. And Jay himself, while unsure how well he could do as Captain, proves himself to be a natural leader and gains the trust of not only his crew, but the many allies they make along the way.

The first member that Jason recruits is Atlanta. He finds her on a planet, thick in forests and dangerous wildlife. She joins his crew readily - she loves nature, her planet, her father, stepmother, and step-siblings, but she's always yearned for adventure. And hearing her mother's will and words…how could she refuse? Atlanta follows in her mother's footsteps, becoming the crew's tracker and bounty hunter, a role she grows into with a great deal of ease and quickness.

The next companion to be gathered? Herry was left in the care of his grandmother, as both of his parents were part of the crew. He doesn't really even remember them, to be honest, and the memories he has of them are hazy. Herry is part of an alien race known for their giant, beefy bodies, superhuman strength and berserker rages…however, Herry honestly seems to be a gentle giant, for all accounts and purposes. It's only at his grandmother's urging that he follows Jay and Atlanta to the Argonaut, where he gets to really see and have a solid memory with his parents through their holographic video. He won't discuss everything they said but, through his tears, he willingly and happily joined the crew and the cause and, though he's still gentle overall, if his crew are in danger or if he must fight to fulfill the crew's destiny to overthrow Cronus and his forces, Herry can and will enter that berserker rage his race is known for and can slaughter entire battlefields of enemies single-handly.

The crew finds Theresa next, in a surprising place. Her father, who had taken residence on his wife's planet, as she was the planet's princess and future ruler and he her consort, abandoned that planet when his wife died. He blamed the crew harshly and not only moved to a planet and grew his own influence, but became high level in Cronus' army. Theresa is spoiled, far safer and wealthier and better off than 99% of the population on any planet Cronus had conquered. And it's not that she hates it, but her father is gone so much, she's raised by servants, and to be honest, she's rebellious and bored. While the crew taking her is technically a 'kidnapping', she honestly kind of helps them kidnap her, even if she doesn't really show it. She becomes the ship's navigator and one part of a tactician duo, due to her excellent sense of direction, knowledge of various mapping techniques and the layout of several galaxies, and knowledge of how Cronus' army and infrastructure works.

That second half of the tactician duo? It's found in Archie. Archie is a child prodigy, and he's one of the few, thanks to the way his brain works, to really remember much about his lost parent. His father, Achilles, had actually raised his son aboard the Argonaut. He had had little choice, honestly, what with Archie's mother dying in childbirth. He'd raised his son with a love of the history of the cosmos, cut his teeth on bed-time stories of tactics, war, and battle wisdom. Had encouraged a love of learning, of literature, of facts and knowledge. And when Archie was left abandoned on the doorsteps of a university on one of the more obscure planets, his love of learning served him well. He becomes the crew's main tactician, the man who not only knows most of the facts, but isn't too bad in a physical fight either, thanks to some bad childhood bullying that forced him to toughen up and learn to fight for himself.

Another genius the crew gains? Odie, son of Odysseus, the man responsible for the mechanical ship that houses the sentient being that is the Argonaut. He build it from scratch, knew it better than anyone else and his son seems to have inherited that trait. Odie joined the crew mostly due to his extreme interest in the Argonaut and, like his father before him, he seems to almost bond with the ship. He can fix anything to do with the ship, improve it, add to it as his brain is always coming up with ways to make the Argonaut better, to not only fortify it but make it more comfortable. He's a mechanical wizard…but even more so, he's the one to pilot the ship and honestly, he has a bond with the Argonaut itself that none of the others do and the ship would not sail as gracefully and faithfully as it does without him.

Not going to lie, unlike Theresa, where her kidnapping was really helped along by her, the last member of the crew was just plain out kidnapped. Neil is the prince of his father's planet, a spoiled brat who only thinks of himself and has the highest opinion of himself. The inhabitants of his planet are expected to worship him and exalt him and he's a dictator in his own right. None of the crew understand why it's so important that they find him and none of them really want him as part of their crew at first. Until they find out that Neil was, as all members of the royal family are, blessed with God's own luck and the ability to vaguely warp reality to favour them. He does it without even realizing he's doing it either, making him rather a genius at the technique. Though things are rocky with Neil at first, and it takes him the longest before he sees his father's video, once he does, things kind of change. He stays with the crew willingly for one, and though his kind of spoiled attitude never fully changes, the longer he serves on the crew and becomes a part of them, the more adventures they embark on and the more of the cosmos he sees, the more he starts to not only genuinely care about his crew-mates, but about all life in the universe. Not as much as he cares about himself, but he definitely starts to really hate Cronus for what he's done to people and the more he genuinely wants to help bring peace to people.

And the story is really just the adventures of the crew, various bits and bobs of them not only having amazing battle scenes but also helping people out as they go along, discovering the beauty in the vast expanses of space, but also the horrors that Cronus has truly brought about, and their efforts to gain allies and lead that uprising to the successful completion their parents could not.