#leaning towards the former but . im hearing the people out

[criminalamnesia]

GOD I LOVE traitor and how strong you've made the reader. It's amazing! And I eagerly await any future parts, whether it's big proper story or drabbles. BUT, you come first and your life does so you do what you gotta and go be amazing! We can wait. Proud of you X

im so late to responding, but thank you! <3

here’s part six :) also not really proofread so I apologize for any errors! I’ll fix them later!

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the floor, cross-legged amongst broken glass, brittle flowers, and discarded clothes, when someone knocks on the door.

you don’t move, don’t say anything. the noise seems distant— too far off to be real.

besides, if someone is really knocking on your door, they know you’re in here.

and if they know you’re in here, it could be one of five people. your former squad mates, or the doctor.

the knock sounds again. it shakes you from your stupor, yet you still make no move to answer it. let them come in; let them see what they’ve made of you. of who you were. of who you could’ve been.

the person on the other side of the door is speaking now. you register the muffled baritone as it fights to be heard from the hall.

you clench your fists, then unclench them— stretching out your fingers as far as they go. clench them again. unclench. stretch. repeat.

it’s a tick— a calming habit. you don’t think it’s working at the present moment.

the doorknob turns. you still don’t move.

the door is being pushed in, light from the hallway aggressively slicing through the darkness you’d left yourself in. you fought the urge to curl in on yourself.

you’d been so consumed by your anger— are consumed by it— but coming into this room and seeing that damn note was earth-shaking. it was terrifying, and it was a tangible reminder of the team’s unapologetic tactics. simon’s unapologetic tactics.

the voice is speaking once more, clearer now that the door is out of the way— but you can’t make out the words over the ringing in your ears.

a hand gingerly lands on your shoulder, and that’s when you snap.

you whirl around, throwing yourself into the intruder like a cobra striking its prey. clearly caught off guard, the person lets loose a ‘oomph’ and falls backwards as you take out their legs.

everything is fuzzy. the ringing in your ears crescendos, and it brings pain with it. you’re striking your target with reckless abandon, still not registering who is flailing underneath you.

punches land and land and land. nails scrape and scratch and draw blood. all you see is red— all you hear is the sharpening of a knife or the whirring of a saw.

and then there are hands on you, yanking you away from your victim. the red slowly starts to recede, the ringing in your ears subsiding.

it’s only then do you release you’re screaming.

its only then do you see the swollen and bloodied face of your doctor, lying a foot away from you. she sputters a cough, blood leaving her lips and splattering onto the man leaning over her.

“you need to calm down,” a voice speaks into your ear.

“calm down, or they’ll sedate you,” it says, and you finally stop screaming. you take a breath.

clench your fists. unclench. stretch. repeat.

it takes you another minute to calm down enough to realize the person holding you is simon.

the doctor is being carried away now, and you notice it’s johnny and kyle carrying her. you notice john is standing to your left, eyes full of sympathy and guilt as he looks at you.

“get,” you huff, reaching down to slap at the arms circling your middle. “off me.”

simon releases you instantly. you don’t hesitate to put distance between the two of you. a few feet, at least. he just stands there, eyes watching with an expression you can’t place.

“what happened, love?” john’s voice is a soft rumble as he speaks. he moves a hand toward you, but decides against touching you— even if he only wanted to comfort you.

“I—” you start, glancing down at your hands. they’re bloody again.

“I thought it was—” you try again, but stop yourself.

you thought it was what? thought it was who?

you had heard man’s voice speaking to you. your mind had twisted things— had given you something you wanted to hear, deep down— because it gave you the chance to strike.

it gave you the opportunity to tear apart whichever man from the 141 had been there to check on you.

and you know you had wished it was simon.

john takes a cautious step forward at your silence. “let’s get you somewhere private, yeah? somewhere to cool down.”

the fire licking at your veins has subsided in favor of the chill of shame. of terror at what you’ve done— what you’ve done to the one person you had on your side. the person who was truly on your side.

you don’t fight this time. you give a nod, then solemnly follow him down the corridor. simon falls in behind you.

john takes you to his office, opening the door and ushering you inside. you move without protest, stepping into the dark room.

the two men enter behind you, john flicking on the light while simon pulls the door shut. you would’ve laughed at the scenario if you were in your right mind.

but you weren’t.

you weren’t okay. you knew that you weren’t, at least physically, but what you just did…

there was no way you were going to be transferred now. you doubted you would’ve even before you attacked the doctor.

you’re going to be discharged. you understand why.

but it hurts. this is your job, your life. years and years on the battlefield don’t prepare you for life off of it.

“love?”

john’s voice brings you back to the present. you realize you’ve been standing in the center of the room, unmoving and unblinking.

you feel simon’s hard gaze on your back. you want to cry.

how did things ever get this fucked up?

“im fine.” you say, not bothering to turn around. you didn’t trust yourself to keep it together if you faced them.

“you’re not,” john states, and you roll your eyes.

“im not talking about this with you,” you bite out, circling your arms around yourself. “either of you.”

“you should at least talk to someone, love— this isn’t healthy.”

“please, stop.” you tell him, but john was never good at taking orders. he gave them, not followed them.

“you hated the therapist, and you haven’t spoken to anyone else since… everything.” he continues.

“stop, john,” you try again.

“you need to let it out, love. we’re here—”

you spin around then, fists dropping to your sides. “for the love of god, john, shut the fuck up.”

that stuns him into silence, eyes slightly widened and mouth agape as he looks at you. simon doesn’t move from his position near the door.

“you are the last people i would ever fucking talk to! I don’t even want to be talking to you right now, but you won’t stop trying. trying to talk to me, trying to make it up, trying to wriggle your way back into my good graces.”

you pause, sucking in a breath. “johnny must’ve relayed the message, and that’s why you’ve back off a little— but one wrong fucking move and you’re swooping again! you aren’t my dad, you aren’t my lover, you aren’t my friend, and you’re sure as hell not my fucking captain anymore.”

“so please, john, leave me be. the four of you have done enough.”

the room is silent for a beat, then two. then three. and then simon takes a step forward, removes his balaclava, and looks you square in the face.

he doesn’t open his mouth to speak, so you take the chance to.

“don’t start with me, simon. just don’t.”

“the note,” he says. “you read it.”

you just look at him, a disbelieving scoff leaving your mouth as you give a nod. “yes, I read your fucking note. and I saw the stupid flowers, too, after seeing everything else you wrecked. tell me, how long did you wait after you tied me up to tear it all apart?”

he just watches you. you want to scream.

the note flashes back into your mind.

‘hope you can understand.’

“does it make you feel better, thinking what you did was right?” you ask him.

“I wouldn’t have done it differently.” simon tells you.

you clench your fists. unclench. stretch.

breathe in, breathe out.

“and if the roles were reversed,” you said, watching him. “if you were in my position, would you have expected me to do what you did?”

“yes.” he says, without hesitation.

“you’re unbelievable,” you huff. “is that how little I meant to you? all that time, wasted?”

“that’s not what I said.” he tells you, and you shake your head.

“no, but it’s what you meant.” anger is bubbling up again. you feel overwhelmed; shame and fury battling inside you. the ringing building up in your ears again, emerging from the background.

you can’t do this.

“what i meant is what i said.” he takes another step forward. “you’re just too damn stubborn to listen, always have been.”

“just go, simon.” you tell him. “both of you. go.”

“I wouldn’t change what I did,” he says again. “to protect my team, my family, I would do whatever it takes.”

you bite your tongue. you don’t want to keep arguing with him. he was an unmovable object— there was no way to reason with him.

“im not sorry it happened.” he speaks. “i did what i thought i had to do. what i had to do to make sure my team was safe.”

“and you should understand that, considering this team is all you have, too.”

you don’t respond— and even if you were going to, a knock on the door breaks the tense silence in the room.

johnny pops his head in, his eyes full of concern. “doc’s alrigh’.” he says, his gaze catching yours. “jus’ some bumps and bruises. she’ll be jus’ fine.”

“and she uh— said she’s not pressin’ charges or anythin’. says she still expects to see ya in a few days for your check-up.”

that’s what breaks you.

a tear slips from your eye, falling onto your cheek. another follows, then another, and you’re sobbing as you fall to the floor of price’s office.

the three men are staring, but no one makes any move to comfort you.

probably wise, considering what you did to the last person who tried.

you faintly register the click of the door as it shuts again. you don’t look up— your head in your hands as you cry.

cry about what you’ve done, what you’ve lost. mourn your career and your family and your love for the man who doesn’t regret what he did.

unbeknownst to you, simon is the only one still left in the room. his steps are silent as he approaches you— leaving only a foot of space between your bodies now.

he watches you as he sinks to the ground across from you, his long legs folded over each other, the fingers of his left hand twitching as he finds himself wanting to reach for you.

he still cares for you. his feelings for you were what made him do what he did in the first place.

the love he felt for you, twisting into betrayal and hurt and agony. fueling his actions, his desire to hear you admit your wrongdoings.

passion made people dangerous. passion in love, passion in rage. it was a fine line, and simon had crossed it.

he understood what this meant for you. recalls the conversation he had with price earlier— how laswell was planning for your discharge instead of your transfer.

this was the end of your time with them, and in the military. the hands of the 141, damaging one of their own beyond repair.

he finds himself mourning alongside you, then. mourning what was and what could’ve been.

what should have been.

“im sorry for what we did to you,” he says, but it comes out as a whisper that you don’t hear.

“im sorry.”

thank you all again for your patience! I plan on tying this little series up soon :)

as a reminder, I no longer do taglists. if you want to be notified when I post, follow @troiastitans and turn on notifications. I only reblog my works there.

I hope you all enjoyed :)

[bitchimasnake-sss]

screaming crying sobbing please give us more of tennis!au zoro, need to see him being a cocky little shit but also groveling to properly get back with reader (good luck buddy).

absolutely loved your writing for that idea and can’t wait to see your other au’s, esp if they’re this creative and not the “obvious” ones (i.e. didn’t see zoro as a tennis player but now i do).

keep up the amazing writing 💋💋

aaaAAAAH THE WAY I WAS WAITING FOR ANYONE TO REQUEST A PART TWO DESPERATELY 😚 AND TYSM POOKIE FOR BEING SO KIND AND SAYING SUCH NICE STUFF ABOUT ME. I HAD A ROUGH DAY 😭😭. ILYSM HOPE YOU GET A HUG FROM SOMEBODY YOU LOVE SOON!

bitchimasnake-sss presents: the one piece AUs

02. what kind of a pr stunt is this?! ft. roronoa zoro

set-up: part 02 to my badminton player!zoro au lol. you can find that here! (i recommend you read that first!) exes are exes for a reason. right? right. then why were you pretending to be in love with the same man that broke your heart five years ago? what kind of publicity stunt is this? and more importantly, is it worth your sanity? warnings: dumb people, even dumber plot by me! NOT PROOFREAD SO IM SORRY FOR TYPOS. includes heavy angst towards the end, fake dating shenanigans. zoro is a pain. and smut (hehe u nasty). nsfw thoughts include cuddle fucking (wow, my demons made me write it), penetration, teasing, dirty talk, a little bit of bimbofication. GIRL NEVER LET A MAN RUIN YOUR CAREER!! wc: 9.6k m.list

26th of august, 9:53 p.m.

"i do not fucking get it." your gaze followed the movements of the shuttle as it moved from the blue-haired girl to your coach, nico robin.

"well," the voice through the speaker was eerily calm for the man that was uttering them, "that's the thing, you don't have to get it. i talked to nami-swan~" and you could practically hear the drool and the heart-eyes in your manager's voice.

"nami-swan?" you leaned back, your back hitting the blue seat in the audience.

the practice court was empty, only haunted by the sounds of air being sliced and shuttles being compromised one after the other for the sake of the game. only three people remained: you, vivi — your partner in the upcoming women's doubles — and coach robin, the former number one in female category. you stared at the court, eyes still following the movements of the shuttle, the phone in your hand and the contact vinsmoke sanji on speaker.

vivi heaved out a trembling breath before hitting a particularly hard stroke, and your eyes widened, awestruck, as coach robin easily defended the oncoming strike. sometimes, you wondered, if your coach had the power to summon more hands.

your practice session was over, and you sat, catching your breath as the man broke you out of your daze, "oh, don't be jealous! you are ever more radiant, more gorgeous—"

"—get to the point, sanji."

"ofcourse." he cooed, "see, you hate roronoa zoro, correct?"

your breath hitched, but you nodded nonetheless, "correct."

"you do not wish to see him again, correct?"

"correct."

"and from what i gather, he isn't fond of you, either. right?"

ouch. "yeah."

"perfect! so this is the most brilliant plan! you just have to pretend to be with him just for a few months—"

"—months, sanji?" your eyes widened, as you subconsciously sat up straight at the idea of having to endure that moss-headed bastard for several months.

"oh, it's not as bad as it sounds!" he tried to defend, "just think about the end goal. after pretending for a few months, you both "break up", and then you have to literally never think about him or see him ever again. how wonderful, isn't it?" his voice swooned, "nami-swan is pretty smart~"

and you slumped backwards at the explanation. months of torture? would it even be worth it? probably not. you rubbed your temple, trying to fend off a budding headache, "we're sportsmen. we are supposed to focus on sports, what the fuck is up with this pr stunt?"

"you and him are sportsmen, correct." you could hear him take a drag of his cigarette, "but me and nami-swan are your managers. you both are at the peak of your respective careers, and sports is a fickle thing, my love. you know that."

"i do but—"

"darling, your job is to play. mine is to ensure that the next brand ambassador for nike is you."

you sighed, hell-bent on finding flaws in the situation, "and dating roronoa does that for me?"

"not exactly," he blew out the smoke, "but once you are through with him, imagine the amount of sympathy you gain? there'd be fan-edits of you on tiktok and comment section full of go girlboss! he doesn't deserve you~" he paused, letting you get used to the opportunity, "we use that, we built you up as an even bigger brand. you. the kind of girl that battled heartache in the spotlight."

you could hear the smile in his cashmere words, "and won."

this situation seemed too good. how would all of that fall in your favour? god is never that kind. never to you, atleast.

"and what does roronoa gain from this? did nami-swan tell you anything about that?" you stood up, waving goodbye to robin and vivi and picking up your duffel bag. as you walked through the hallway, your voice echoed and came to you, "sure as fuck, he's not walking away from this situation without winning something himself, right?"

"who knows?" sanji laughed, "that's upto that moss-head and that ever-radiant goddess—" sanji cleared his throat, "uh— for nami-swan to figure out. not you. i'm focused on you, love."

you sighed as you pushed the glass door to the practice complex open. stepping out, the night air felt cool against your sweat-covered neck and back. as you walked to your car, you caught sight of a certain man. why.

"he's here." you spoke into the phone, a slight panic building up in your bones as you deliberately slowed down, "why is he here?"

"roronoa?" sanji asked, and a certain twinge in his voice made your stomach coil inwards, "good luck, love."

"wait sanj—" beep. he cut the call. that bastard. men cannot be trusted, after all.

"hey there." his voice was akin to nails on chalkboard.

why. why was roronoa zoro here?! standing outside your practice court, in front of your car, pretending to be your boyfriend. with a relaxed grin on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hands, at that too!

you gaze danced around, trying to spot paparazzi in your peripheral vision as you walked up to your car. but the parking seemed empty, and part of you wondered if roronoa zoro just enjoyed annoying the shit out of you. possibly.

as you reached him, the man wrapped his free arm around you, his voice next to your ear, "there's paps here, just play along."

you pulled back, your features twisted into a frown, "i cannot see anyone."

he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and you recoiled back instinctively, muttering out a feeble, "'m sweaty, don't do that."

"i've seen you worse."

the fuck does that mean? he wants to throw hands in this parking lot, huh? is that it? you can take him, though. ofc.

but before you could battle it out, he craned his neck, trying to scan for the paps that he was so sure were around. his eyes fixated on a certain car, and he slowly nodded in that direction, "found 'em. see."

you turned back slowly, only to find out two guys — some twenty years or so — with a camera out, pretending to be nonchalant. as if being out on a random sports complex at ten in the night was normal behaviour.

your mouth went sour, but you dragged your gaze up at zoro anyways. being under observation, your fingers reached for his and you interlocked them. your words though? just plain cruel. "fine." you huffed out, "get in the car, roronoa."

"of course," he shoved the bouquet towards you, "for you, by the way."

you grabbed the bunch of flowers recklessly, having no regard for them, "nami-swan gave them to you?"

"swan?" his eyebrows furrowed as you walked to the drivers side, "nami, yes. swan, no."

you unlocked the car, throwing the duffel to the backseat and getting in. zoro followed suit, getting in the passenger seat. you turned on the engine wordlessly and within a few minutes you were driving the car out of the parking complex.

"do you—"

"no." you pressed the touchscreen, trying to put on your playlist to avoid talking to him, "we don't need to talk. just sit."

he leaned back into the passengers seat, huffing out a soft, "'was jus' asking if you ate or not, woman." he shrugged, "i didn't, so, we could go get some—"

"—don't care. and what i do is none of your concern." the street lights painted the barren, concrete roads a subtle orange. the moon hung low in the night sky, and you pressed the accelerator harder.

"it kinda is. we're dating." a self-satisfying grin made to his lips at the mention of the word. his arms came up to rest behind his head, and he looked at you sideways.

your foot pressed down at the accelerator impossibly harder, hands gripping for dear life onto the steering wheel, eyes narrowing at the road as. you grit out, "not your girlfriend. not dating."

he laughed anyways, finding some amusement in your misery, "you're no fun."

"die, roronoa."

"we both might with the way you're driving." he looked out the window, the city outside a mere blur of lights as you cruised down the empty highways to make it back to his home.

"why am i even living at your place, still?" you mumbled into the steering wheel, slowing down begrudgingly. and he replied back coolly, "cause dad likes you more than he likes me."

"hah!" a grin made to your lips. you looked over at him for a microsecond, and looked away immediately lest he looked back at you, "so glad we both finally agree about something."

"yeah." roronoa zoro breathed out slowly, staring at the way the overhead orange lights casted shadows across your pretty face. your hair was pulled back into a messy bun, pretty eyes on the road, and flushed face breaking his heart for the nth time.

flushed face, huh? he cleared his throat, eyes drifting down to his lap, "d- d'you wanna like talk about that... night?"

he didn't miss the way your hands clutched the steering wheels tighter, and a furious blush blossomed across your face as you stuttered out, "no! there's no-nothing to discuss."

he looked away from you, eyes zeroing on the flickering lights of towering skyscrapers far away, "see, 'nother thing we agree on."

but the blush on your face refused to die down, so you just choked out a soft, "shut up, roronoa."

a smile tugged at his lips at your crumbling words, "yes ma'am."

"and stop calling me ma'am!"

10:34 p.m.

"ah, you're back. how wonderful." mihawk's eyes stayed trained on the news on the screen, a glass of wine in his hands. monotonously, he asked, "how are the lovebirds doing?"

"hungry—"

"— not lovebirds."

all three of you looked at the flatscreen, as the anchor flashed a staged photo of you two holding hands with a mischievous glint in her eyes. mihawk sipped down the burgundy liquid, "seems like you are lovebirds to the media."

"shouldn't seem the same to you, sir."

zoro shrugged, picking up an apple that was kept neatly in the fruits basket on the table. he tossed the glossy red from one palm to the other, "yeah, yeah. the 'not lovebirds' are very hungry, though. can we eat something?"

"i'm gonna shower, then eat." you hitched the duffel higher on your shoulder, walking towards your room, "catch you guys later. don't wait for me."

you dropped the duffel down at the door, collapsing on the soft mattress and the familiar scent of the duvet greeted you immediately. a unladylike groan made past your lips as you stretched your limbs and fell slack on the mattress again.

the women's singles was three months away. technically, you could relax for a few days. technically. but after winning the champion's cup, all eyes were on you. and failing wasn't an option. especially not since if you did reach the finals, it would probably be against boa hancock again. and if you lost? that would crush you and your ego to smithereens.

you sighed into the soft covers, turning your head to look at the bedside table to find the same white plastic that was given to you a few weeks back. the pack of beer remained untouched inside. thinking of the interaction with a certain someone, you dug your cheeks harder against the covers to fight off the warmth spreading all over.

get a grip. you hate him.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

28th of august, 11:28 p.m.

knock knock knock.

you stood outside to zoro's door, hands fisted around the carton and feet shuffling over the hardwood floors as you awaited his appearance.

you hate him right?

"hi?" zoro looked at you, eyes immediately narrowing. his neck craned forwards, eyes experimentally looking around as if he expected someone to be lurking in the periphery. once thorough with his inspection, his gaze landed atop you. he repeated, "hey?"

then why were you standing here right now?

"uh, hi?"

"d'you like," he paused, a shiver running down his spine at the possibility of the question, "want something?"

walk away, say you knocked on the wrong door! anything!

"can i come in?" you raised the pack of beer upwards. gulping before mumbling, "i need help finishing this."

"oh?" his lips parted, eyes trained on the glass bottles, "i bought you that like a month ago, didn't drink 'em?"

"uh? no." you looked down at the pack too, "well, i was off alcohol for the season, you know."

"do not disrespect alcohol by calling beer one." he nodded at you gravely, apparently growing serious about the drinks he consumed, and their status.

"okay?" your nose scrunched up, "looks like it is a topic or great importance to you."

"it is. alcoholism is in my blood." atleast hes self aware about him and his dad's habits? that's good. we love a self aware king.

well, no, we don't love him!

your eyes widened at the sudden realization, and your mouth ran it's course trying to cause damage in another sphere of life, "you're adopted, though?"

he stared at you a second, growing unsure of your own parentage and you panicked, "y-you knew that, right?"

"no!" he looked at you horrified. then the expression slipped. what a bastard.

"obviously. I'm just toying with ya." nodding, he took a step back, "come in."

roronoa zoro's room was the same kind it was five years ago. the bed never made, atleast three bottles of water at his bedside table at all given times, the door to the closet ajar and a video game switched open on his flatscreen and two bean bags perched in front of them.

but now the wall behind his bed was painted a shade or sage green, and haphazard, shaky selfies of perona with zoro winning tournaments with on a was put up (by perona, of course). other photos included him with a raven boy you recognized as monkey d. luffy. olympic-level skier. that boy could bend in ways unfathomable.

you briefly caught eye of a red-headed girl but before you could look deeper, zoro crashed on one of the bean bags, helplessly floundering as the furniture beneath him changed shape. he looked back at where you stood, "wanna play?"

"wonderful interiors." you crashed on the bean bag next to him, floundering around much the same before gritting out a, "did you dye your hair to match the walls or vice-versa?"

"very funny," he grumbled, handing you another controller, "you're just mad i pull green off well. now wanna play or what?"

1:26 a.m.

"that was fuckin' unfair," the sportsman grumbled, slumping back in his chair, "you literally tricked me."

"eh," you shrugged, bringing the second bottle to the brink of your lips. your voice reverberated against the delicate glass, "you're just mad i won."

"i am a man of honour and virtue, woman."

"and a loser. a sore loser at that." you grinned at the man, and he sulked more in return. throwing the controller to the side, he brought his third bottle to his lips, "don't you have to go sleep? got no practice tomorrow?"

and you couldn't help but ogle at his lips. he seemed to say some words, but all you could remember was the searing kisses. him again you. senseless. the kind that trailed down you body and—

it was that wretched alcohol, obviously. making you think stuff like this. fuck roronoa zoro. fuck roronoa zoro. fuck roro—

not that kind of fuck.

"—nefertari vivi, right? that's your partner." zoro nodded in approval, continuing with regard of what kind of battles were being waged in the labyrinths of your mind. "dad said she's climbing the ranks pretty soon. could be a real help in winning against boa this year."

he paused, awaiting a reply and your daze shattered as you met his eyes. the fucking alcohol. "yeah. uh, vivi's really good. very quick on her feet too. she's good."

"yeah," he cleared his throat, "so, no practice tomorrow?"

"no, it's a rest day." you gulped down the rest of the liquid, "what about you? decided who's gonna be your next coach?"

"dad says he wants to hand me over to shanks."

"red-haired shanks?! oh my god!" your body moved before your brain and you turned towards the man you had loved once. body angled forward, way too close.

and roronoa zoro forgot how to breath. you were so pretty. fuck you. fuck you. fuck yo—

fuck you in the exact way he was thinking.

and maybe you could hear his thoughts or see the resolve in his eyes because you pulled back. tucking your hair behind and fidgeting with your fingers, you gave him an awkward smile, "i mean he's just a legend. so, it's huge that you get to... be his student."

"nothing's set in stone." the man continued to stare at your lips, head tilted towards you expectantly, "i mean, dad isn't fond of him. says he's a pain. but, uh... like you said, he's good. plus i know him. he's basically luffy's dad with how often luffy crashes at his house."

you hummed, eyes shying away from him, "that's nice."

he hummed back, eyes zeroing on you, "'spose it is."

you don't know who or what to blame for what happened next.

the alcohol? zoro, for the way his fingers softly touched your cheek? yourself, for the way you leaned forward and caught his bottom lip against yours?

his hands manhandled you, picking you off of your bean bag and onto his lap. the ever-changing furniture dipped further against your weight. your hands in his hair, his under your shirt, kissing each other fucking senseless.

"roron-" you tried to start, but he didn't give you an opening. slotting his tongue against yours, the man tried to gulp every inch of you down. his hands moved up and down your back, expert fingers playing with the clasp of your bra. and he pulled back, heaving as he met your gaze, "off."

"no—" you threw your head back, a flurry of kisses against your neck and collarbone. your consciousness slipping past you with each graze of his lips against your naked skin, "z-zoro, we shouldn't."

"but this means nothing," he mumbled against your soft skin, "nothing at all, i promise."

and you found yourself deliriously nodding, helping him make up the candied lies, "and we are pretending to date. yeah? this is normal."

he took off your tshirt, hands coming up to play with your tits through your bra. nodding, he squeezed them, "yeah. yeah, it is, pretty."

"mhm, okay." your pelvis shifted over his, trying to gain friction through the layers of separation. he kissed you again, and you whimpered as he undid your bra and threw it off of you.

his thumb and forefinger rolled the perky nipple between them, his thoughts running off with reckless fantasies as you moaned in his mouth, "—ngh, z-zoro."

his hands lifted your hips, lips never once stilling against you. then, he pulled you down such that you could feel his erection against your core. you moved in tandem to his wild, untamed thrusts. lips parting open to moan out his name when—

"—zoro." a stern voice from outside, and you both froze, still tangled within each other.

shit, shit, shit.

"zoro, can you hear me?" mihawk called out once again, and you scrambled off of the sportsman to go put on your tshirt. zoro yelled back, panicked, "'m playing, gi-gimme a second, dad."

and you caught the man trying to adjust his pants to hide the erection as he got up with jelly for legs. he gave you a once-over, decided you looked decent enough, told you to hide behind the door and scrambled to open the said door.

hiding his lower torso behind the door, zoro gave mihawk the best look of nonchalance he could muster, "uh, yes. what's up, father?"

mihawk stood with an old-fashioned candelabra in his hands. a stoic expression on his face... and a vampire themed night-suit. checks out, yeah. his gaze pierced zoro, "she's not in her room, is she with you?"

"n-" zoro tried to lie, but mihawk glared at his son harder. and zoro crumbled like he was sixteen again, "yes. but we were just playing video games."

"hm? have you seen the time?" the former coach called out your name, and you slid forth from where you were hiding. a meek, "yes, sir?"

"why are you here? don't you have practice tomorrow?"

"n-no, sir." you looked downwards, crumbling like you were sixteen yourself. trying to hope he wouldn't notice zoro's and yours disheveled hair and clothes, you choked out a short, "rest day, sir."

"rest day, is it?" his eyes looked vampirish under the light from the candles, "rest days are meant for resting. not for goofing off."

mihawk stared the two of you down one last time before turning away and treading through the darkened hallways with only his candelabra to hold close. he didn't bother turning to look at you, but his voice was stern, "back to your room, now."

"yes, sir. sorry, sir." you nodded, moving past zoro and walking behind him. but a strong grip on your wrist made you look back. you turned back, confused and zoro — practically shrouded in darkness —pressed a chaste kiss to your nose, "g'night."

before you could look at him and question his intentions, he murmured, "just pretending. sorry."

mihawk yelled over his shoulder, "GET MOVING, YOU TWO."

"SORRY, SIR."

as you walked away from the mosshead, your fingers rested over your nose gingerly, as if you could feel him there still.

you two were going to ruin each other.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

31st of august, 12:25 p.m.

and ruin he did.

his index finger travelled over the dip of your waist, travelling down, down, down till it stilled over the waistband of your shorts. he dragged the cloth downwards, exposing the naked skin to his hungry hands.

you were gonna be his untimely death.

continuing to knead at your slightly exposed hips, his lips slotted against yours feverishly. pressing himself against your back, he built you up only to ruin with his own lips. he pulled you face backwards, closer against him, as his ravished self drank down any defiant moan that escaped you.

"z-zoro." you whispered softly, the words disappearing down the tangled sheets between you. he hummed back just as softly, one hand now disappearing under your t-shirt to harshly tug on your nipple and another came to run a light finger over your drenched slit.

"aah ah zo—" you moaned you as he continued moving his fingers up and down. up and down. up and down. till his finger came to still over your puffy clit, and he rubbed slow circles onto it.

the two of you were in your bed, the lights off as you navigated each other with uncanny ease. he was snug behind you, his erection digging into your thigh as he toyed with you and kissed you down like a man set to ruin you.

his left hand alternated between softly pressing down your tits, to harshly tugging and rolling your nipples in a way that had you barely breathing against his kiss-bitten, reddened lips. all while he right toyed with your clit, dragged sloppily to tease your hole before toying with the trembling nub.

you felt yourself growing stupid, turning into jelly and trying to run away from the man behind you.

"no—" he laughed softly against your skin, "don't run, you want this."

"i do-i don't." you glared back at him through whatever sanity you retained, and he cooed back. taking his fingers off of your soaked cunt, he teased, "you don't? sure?"

"zoro, come on—" you whined, but he shoved the sticky, sweet fingers past your soft lips. a command against the column of your throat, "ask nicely."

his teeth sunk down on your neck, fingers patiently sinking against your tongue, waiting for you to wilt under him. he raised his head, pulling out his wetted fingers. you looked back him, lips dripping with your sweet and spit. your eyes softened but words stayed razor-sharp, "'m not begging."

"no?" he echoed, the wet fingers sinking against your cheek to pull them into an embarrassing pout. his eyebrows furrowed, "no?"

you shook your head despite his firm grip, and he laughed. a boyish laugh, the kind set to tear you apart from within. pressing a kiss to your neck, he dragged his lips upwards to your ears, "guess i'll have to force you, hm?"

and who was roronoa zoro if not a man of his words?

thumbing your clit, his dick rammed into you again and again and again. hot breath fanning your neck, strong arm wrapped around your waist as he dragged you back to meet his ravaging, hungry movements.

you turned your face sideways, panting into the pillows as his thumb pressed down your throbbing nub, and continued to fuck into you like a maddened man.

"come on," he cooed, arm sinking further against your waist and pulling you flush against your chest. his words were tainted with strained breaths, "be nice, baby. ask me, hah- fuck. and i-i'll give you anything."

"ah wh-what?!" you yelped as he turned on his back, pulling your limp body over his chest. your sweaty back against his sculpted, toned torso and his voice ringing into your ear, hysteric almost, "c'mon, be nice, baby. say thankyou."

feet planted in the bed, hips pistoling into your gushing cunt as his fingers teased and pressed down the nub. your shaking hands pressed down against your mouth to shove back any wretched screams that threatened to tear past your pretty lips.

and the sight of trying to hold back cries made him feral. his pelvis smacked against your ass, the skin stinging with each harsh thrust of him cock into your bruised walls. the mushroom tip teased your g-spot and your toes curled as your clit suffered under his unyielding circles, "hah zoro, zo— im gunna cum, 'm cumming, cumming fuckk."

a wretched laugh underneath you as the man continued to chase his own high, fucking into your gummy walls like a man ready to lose everything just to have you. betting on his body, his soul, his sanity with the way your snug cunt milked him, pulling him into you as it throbbed so deliciously.

"zo... please—" hot tears falling past your eyes at the overstimulation as sticky hot filled your cunt to the brim. his fingers thumbed away at your clit though you trashed against him, and tried to pull away. away, away, away.

frenzied pants against the shell of your ears, hips still ramming his already-hard dick into your abused pussy with ease, "what do you want?"

"more." you babbled, eyes rolling back as he kept fucking up into you with no regard from your pulsating, aching cunt, "mo-more please, please, please."

"hah really?—" he laughed, ready to chase his high again. deranged, almost with the way he kept fucking into you. only one thing one his mind: to fuck your limp body even though his mouth grew dry, hips ached and back muscled burned.

how could he stop? just how, when your nails indented themselves against his arms and hot, fat tears fell past your eyes. and those sounds? muffled moans, heavy sighs? ah, you would kill him. and what kind of man would he be if he didn't even thank you properly by fucking you stupid?

you skin stung, waist marked red from how tight his grip was, hair sweaty and eyes rolled back as deranged moans tumbled past your lips. all words just variations of his name.

"zoro, zoro zoro hah- fuck nghh aah—" he lapped a hot stripe up your neck, tasting your salty skin as you bounced mindlessly against him and came over his aching cock. words caught in your throat and your limp body stilling against him, drowning him in such a pretty shade of white from both of your orgasms.

"shit," he mumbled, feeling the viscid liquid slowly travelling down his veiny shaft as he pulled it out. he softly let you off of him, letting you snuggle your sweaty forehead against his clothed chest. chest heaving up and down, cheeks flushed and lips reddened. his gaze trailed down your weary figure and down to your inner thighs, glistening with sticky residue of him on you.

what a fucking sight.

and zoro was just a mortal man, at the end. so how can you blame him for finding you in the middle of the night, pinning you down and fucking into you with reckless abandon for the next few nights? stealing kisses in the darkened hallways, huffing softly as your palmed him softly and straddled his hips under the pretense of "asking him for advice on the game."

"we shouldn't." you would mutter every time without fail, even as you allowed his easy access to tear off your panty and fuck you full till you were delirious and about to pass out with his name as a mantra.

"don't worry," he would always mumbled back, words honeyed against your sweet lips, "don' worry at all, pretty. this means nothing, hm?"

and you would nod along, letting him to mark you up again. he would be the death of you.

8th of september, 7:32 p.m.

and he was.

"you've been terrible lately," robin admitted seriously, "your focus is elsewhere, and you look like you haven't slept in a week."

your gaze drifted downwards, "i'm sorry, coach."

her voice was gentle and you were struck at how young she sounded. she was once your age and number one, and you were getting hung up over one boy.

she read your expression, the bitter twang of guilt in your eyes, and her delicate fingers came to rest under her chin, "don't be sorry. but get serious." she paused, "don't lose yourself over a man, it won't be worth it."

"of course, coach." you nodded, and robin dismissed you with another stern look. and as you sat in the passenger seat of zoro's sportscar, you became hyper-aware of his hand on your thigh, of his words and how casually he talked to you.

end this. now.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

11th of september, 8:03 p.m.

"ohmygod, zoro." you mumbled lowly against his lips, hands finding purchase against his crisp white shirt, "you're overdoing it."

his left arm tightened against your waist, right hand coming to hold yours against his chest, and head tilting to kiss you harder. he pulled back to look at you. your eyes shut, lipstick smudged, and manicured arms creasing, ruining his shirt. ruining him.

fuck, you were divine. and he was a man at your mercy.

the sportsman stammered out, words barely audible, "'m not. did you not get the memo?"

you had, unfortunately.

after talking to robin, you had managed to avoid zoro for quite a few days. and when you finally met his eyes over dinner, he just gave you an understanding look. no love, no brooding, no nothing! maybe, he understood this was a pr stunt, after all.

but then, sanji had called you up, bumbling with excitement, "my love!"

"sanji." you had laughed at his excitement, staring at your ceiling as you lay on your bed, "what's up?"

"okay," he had stilled, questioning his excitement, "you're gonna hate this, i think. but—"

the laugh had died in your throat, "what is it."

"so, you're invited to the get-together being held by the worldwide badminton association, how fun!" you had sat up, unamused, "okay, and? there's more, right?"

"well, roronoa zoro's invited too."

"no."

and the memo had been to take the pda up whenever necessary and convince everyone how utterly in love you two were. maddened by it, in fact.

so, now, you two were holed up in the bathroom, doing whatever this was. zoro raised his thumb to your lips, slowly cleaning the mess he had created, and you almost flinched at how careful he was being.

"you know," you drawled out slowly, letting him work the smudges, "we could have just smudged my lipstick, without actually kissing. and people would have caught on."

"hm?" he hummed, still invested in perfecting his craft. and your eyes trailed downwards to his exposed neck and chest, littered with red markings; courtesy of you. "better to be thorough. can't afford to mess it up, right?"

"right." you looked up at him, eyes stalling at his reddened lips before you turned around to look at the closed door, "ready to go outside and pretend to be in love?"

"of course."

"great." you breathed out, looking back at zoro one last time.

he was dressed in a smart navy button-down and dress slacks. and you were dressed in a matching navy, silken slip dress and dainty heels, hair styled in soft waves to match the man behind you.

he opened the door, letting you out with a million dollar smile on his face as he posed for the paps that dwelled in the crowd. you took his hand gingerly, mirroring his giddy expression as you stepped out and were blinded by the snaps of glittering lies and gossip.

the power couple emerge disheveled?! how scandlous!

the two of you mingled within the crowds, hand in hand, with promises of life and death, and stolen glances. the crowd cooed and the interviewers threw one question after the other at the two of you. zoro answered each question with a hint of smile, fingers never once leaving your waist.

"so? do you think she's the one?" an official's wife asked, chasing the question with a giddy laugh.

"of course. who else, if not her?" he answered smoothly. he turned to look at you, head dipping down ever-so-slightly. his breath warm against your neck, neat hair falling against your skin, and a breathy, "what do you think, baby?"

"i— yeah. i think he's the one. he's..." you blinked up at him, eyes widening as he smiled at you again, "perfect."

you put on a faux smile as the man nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck. and, you were lead to your demise with a wicked epiphany: this man would eat away your sanity. someday, somehow. he will.

"well, isn't it a bit weird to see roronoa see smile so much?" another official asked, "he's always so stoic that this seems wrong, somehow."

"well, i'm not smiling at you. am i, oldy?" as if to prove his point, the sportsman pressed his lips into a thin line.

"hah, ever the charming gentleman." the man laughed, trying to mask the disrespect under layers of jokes. you laughed along, clutching zoro's bicep in an last-ditch effort to save the mosshead's reputation, "well, you know how his humor is."

what a fucking headache this man was.

12:12 a.m.

"ugh." you groaned as soon as your back hit the leather seat of zoro's car. getting comfortable, you muttered a low, "thank god that shit's over."

your nimble fingers came to tear off the heavy, rented diamond earrings off of your ears. your feet ached, your head ached and as you caught the sight of zoro adjusting his seat, your heart ached.

he was pretty under the dim light. shit.

"you good?" he leaned over you, muscled arm tugging the seat-belt and strapping you in, "do your feet hurt? i can take off your heels for you, if you wa—"

"no." you looked away from him, heart pumping at the close proximity, "i'm fine."

"ah, okay then. suit yourself." he pulled back, and put his seat-belt on. the mosshead changed gears and soon enough, you were cruising down ghostly roads.

why was he acting like you two were together? it nauseated you. made your head spin. made you feel stupid, seventeen and like you'd fall right back into the death trap that was roronoa zoro.

you both sat in silence, and the moon hung low, the stars twinkling in the night sky like forbidden jewels. all was good, all was great. till you decided to ruin whatever ounce of peace remained between the two of you. your fingers turned down the volume of the song blaring in the background, till all that remained was venomous silence and you and him, and him and you.

"roronoa."

he hummed to signal he was listening.

you drew in a strained breath, you're not my boyfriend, and you will never be. not even in the future." your icy words the only sound in the car, "i hope you understand that."

roronoa zoro looked at you, and then replied slowly, "yes, i do."

"this is just a publicity stunt," you declared, "and once this shit is over, i am gonna walk away and never see your face again."

the car made it's way down a deserted road, "yes, i know that too."

your eyes narrowed at his simple answers but you kept gawking at the road ahead, "you don't act like you know it, though."

he grew silent, and you waited for his response. moments passed you by in uncomfortable silence but then, finally, "i was told to pretend i love you, and i am doing what i was told."

"when have you been the one to follow rules?"

the man sighed, "do i need to have an excuse to love you?"

"love me?" you scoffed, "i am sorry for fighting old battles, but you left me."

his knuckles grew white and he pressed the breaks. the car jolted abruptly before being parked at one side. a beat passed, then another, and another. then, "i was seventeen."

"that's the problem." you undid your seatbelt, eyes trained ahead, "i am not angry that you chose your fucking career over me. good for you, you're at number one! huzzah! but you left. just like that."

"i am sorry." he looked straight ahead too, voice tainted with guilt, "i truly am sorry—"

"sorry wouldn't fix shit, would it?" still not meeting each other's eyes. cowards. both of you. "all i wanted was a phone-call, maybe a fucking email. fax, maybe? anything. anything to tell me where you went. that you were fucking sorry, and that this was for the best."

"i kno—"

"—doesn't seem like you do, zoro." you spat out, words turning vile at the tip of your tongue, "you just fucking ran."

"believe me, it wasn't selfish." his voice was low, the kind that reverberated against the metallic car frame and came back to you. you replied back easily, "it wasn't selfless either."

and you two fell into silence once again. your head spun, words stuck in your throats. accusations, grievances, foul words.

you paid it no mind and your fingers softly unlocked the car door. you stepped out, walking away from the expensive car. and as the night air hit you, you were acutely reminded of just how stupid the situation was. you, still clinging onto a heartbreak from five years ago. honestly, you should swallow down that bitter pill and forget it.

but how could you forget it? how? when the subject of your heartbreak was calling out your name, slamming his side of the door as he chased after you, as if afraid to lose you once more.

his calloused fingers grabbed ahold of your wrist, "wh-where are you going?"

"nowhere," you didn't bother to turn around to see his face. your voice, or whatever words you spewed forth were monotone, devoid of anything human, "just wanted some fresh air, roronoa. go, sit in the car. i'll be back in two minutes."

"don't do this." zoro tugged your wrist backwards, trying to turn your body to face his, to atleast dignify him with a look as you broke his heart.

"don't do what?" you stilled, unmoving as he tugged you back delicately. "i told you that i will be back—"

"d-don't leave." his voice cracked uncharacteristically, "i— if you're angry at me, hit me. curse me. shoot me. do whatever you please with my heart, but look at me. don't turn your back on me."

under the moonlight, it seemed like you were cruel. because you remained unmoving as hot tears pricked at your lash line and your nose grew warmer, "when have i been the one to turn my back on you, zo?"

he flinched at the nickname. his voice was desperate, words limited to calling out your name over and over again. he stepped closer, warm breath on your goosebump-ish skin, desperate, "don't leave, please. please. i fu— i fucked up, i know."

"—no calls, no texts, nothing. you're a phantom and i'm the fucking idiot waiting around on you for a whole year." your voice stayed the same, wretched, monotonous tone. as if he wasn't even here and you were just confessing your heartaches to the night sky, "you know, on my eighteenth birthday, my parents asked me to blow out a candle and wish for something. and i wished for you. that you came back. how fucking stupid."

"i'm sorry, please."

but you were a woman anguished, so you continued, "and maybe some deity heard me. because i saw you again. after a year, i saw you at an event by the worldwide badminton association. but then, whenever you saw me again, you avoided me like the fucking plague for the next five years."

"i thought i was saving you," his voice sunk past your flesh and deep into your bones, "i thought i was saving both of us the heartbreak becaus-because i loved you."

and then you felt it. wayward droplets on water falling on wrist as his head hung low. zoro's voice shook, interwoven with slow drags of breath that barely held the stoic man behind you together, "i wanted to save you the heartbreak cause i love you."

he called out your name again, his calloused fingers digging against the silken cloth as if you would run away. words only growing heavier as tear after tear fell down his face, "i know i was so stupid. it was... it was selfish, and stupid—"

"realized so soon?" tears welled in your eyes, body struggling against his hold, "you know, after you left town, i got better at this wretched game for you. so that someday.... some fucking day, i would be on your fucking level. then, i'd look you in the eyes and tell you to fuck off. say it with my all of my fucking chest."

you turned around, letting his touch scorch your skin, desperate pangs of breath be the only indication either one of you was alive. you slowly brought a hand up to his face. his bloodshot eyes met yours, lips trembling. you looked like he just stabbed you in the heart. "but now, i'm here. and you're here. and i just wanna ask. i— did i mean nothing to you, zo?"

and with that, roronoa zoro lost all sanity.

"'m sorry. im sorry, im sorry, im s-sorry—" heavy tears fell down his face, as did he; crumbling down, and only being held up by your support. he sobbed against your skin, tears falling and tainting your skin as he chanted apologies against your skin.

and mindlessly, almost like you were built for the sole purpose of holding him against your mortal body, your hands raked through his hair and he held you tighter.

he collected himself, lifting his gaze just to disintegrate at your tear-stained face all over again, "i-i thought it would hurt less if i said nothing, and you would think of it as a bad breakup... and move on. you would forget me, and i, you. but i couldn't."

bottom lip trembling, he found his forehead against yours, hand on your cheek, "i fucking couldn't. day and night, all i could think of was you."

your breath heaved pathetically. body, mind and soul almost giving into the alchemy that was this man. but you shut your eyes, words cut-throat, "and that makes this suffering worth it?"

"i dunno," he shook his head softly, eyes clenched shut, "i dunno anything at all. b-but i know i love you, i do. and i've hurt you but—" he stepped back, eyes begging, "i'd make it up to you. i promise. give me a chance, and i—"

a chance? a fucking chance? after five years of avoiding you, two months of pretending like you were nothing more than a doubles partner, he wanted a chance? hah, funny.

"zoro." your body grew stiff under him, eyes boring into his bloodshot ones without any lingering emotion, "we should go home, it's getting cold. i said what i had to say, and you heard it all."

"hey, hey—" his hands fell on your shoulders, as his voice shook, "please, i will fix—"

"—let's go home, zoro. please."

you drove home in silence. and when you both made it back home, mihawk didn't ask any questions about your bloodshot eyes, or about the way zoro disappeared in his room without even a word.

and then, you stopped talking to roronoa zoro.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

28th of september, 9:01 a.m.

it had been almost three weeks since you confronted zoro.

and in those three weeks you had lost count of how many times the mosshead came to your door, knocked, and left before saying anything at all. you had lost count of how many times he showed up outside your practice court, gave you a posed kiss for any paps around, and then drove you back home in silence with your old favourite songs in the background. you had lost count of how many times he left cup noodles, chocolates, and whatever else he could find at your door wordlessly, and how many times you found his asleep at your door.

it was all in vain, though. you were done with him.

no matter how much you wanted to stop him, and talk to him when he came knocking. no matter how much you wanted to smile at him when he came to pick you up. how much you wanted to talk to him about your practice, and to ask for his feedback. no matter how hungry you felt, how desolate you felt for his words, for his skimming touches. you refused to give in. you turned roronoa zoro down, always.

if you allowed him in, you would be rendered useless. battling heartache again for the nth time, wouldn't you?

"so, this is it?" you asked slowly, and your mouth grew dry despite the bottle of beer in your hands, "we're done?"

"yes!" sanji clapped his hands. his voice was clear through the speaker, "we're nearing the end. aren't you glad? you would never have to see that mosshead again!"

"r-right." you swallowed, "that is good. that is what i want."

you sounded unconvinced to your own ears, god knows what sanji was making out of your words? as if echoing your thoughts, your manager stilled. he blew out smoke before wondering out loud, "do you want to continue this further? if that is indeed the case then—"

"no." you replied firmly, cutting the blonde off. "just give me the details of when to end this, and how. fucking end this."

"well... if you say so." he continued, "your doubles championship is two weeks away."

you nodded consciously as your mind drifted to boa hancock and the possibility of losing all over again. sanji inhaled smoke like it was second nature to him, and then spoke again, "in three days, we leak that you and roronoa are done for." sanji grinned, a businessman at his very core. "but then you two make a public appearance to prove the rumors wrong. a week and half later, you win the tournament, and we confirm you've both broken up. and just like that, you're a sensation, love!"

"that's it?"

"that's it! and anytime, anyone asks you about him? you just say you don't wanna talk about it." sanji paused, "sounds good to you?"

"from what i understand, i just need to focus on the tournament and you'd handle the rest?"

"of course, darling."

"okay, then." you inhaled slowly, "just two more weeks."

"just two more."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

13th of october, 10:03 a.m.

this was bad. this was bad. this was bad.

you tried to stabilize your breathing before you went down spiraling and took your team with you. your eyes darted to the blue-haired girl next to you. vivi. her skin gimmered and glittered as if she was royalty by blood, and she glanced back at you to give you a re-assuring smile.

in the court front of you stood boa hancock and her sister, boa marigold. both of them stood, unphased. not a wayward sweat-drop nor strained breaths. and it dawned on you for the third time that these women were in a league apart from you, as if separated by DNA itself.

your 16 points to rival their 20 points. you were losing the finals. badly, at that.

"what do we do?" vivi whispered to you, and you found the resolve weakening in her eyes. and you were acutely reminded that this was the blue-haired girl's first doubles tournament. you gave her a reassuring smile, "try to play defensive for a bit. they are trying to wear us down with constant attacks, and all we can do is try not to fall into their trap."

"conserve our energy for now, right?" vivi nodded, taking her position back in court.

your eyes ran over the crowd once more in hopes for a recognizable mosshead but you found no trace of him. well, that made sense. he wasn't supposed to come show today since the two of you "broke up."

you sighed, and your brows furrowed as you focused on the game. that bastard be damned.

but shot after shot after shot, the conclusion remained the same. the two sisters inched closer to victory as they bagged another point. all while you and vivi tried to cling onto the delusions of winning the tournament. and then—

fwoosh.

the shuttle made it past your ear with a soft wheeze, and your eyes trained on boa hancock watched the woman crack a wicked smile. her sister clung onto the older raven-head and you found yourself stuck, frozen, unmoving as vivi cried out in defeat and fell to her knees.

you lost. again. how fucking pathetic.

an impossibly heavy weight fell atop your chest, throat closing up as tears rushed to your eyes. but you blinked them away, instead choosing to pick vivi up and wish the boa sisters congratulations.

you lost. oh well. always the idiot that stayed, never the star player, right?

1:03 p.m.

you felt like your mouth was full of tar, throat closing up as the news reporters and interviewers peered you and your partner down.

"this is the third major tournament you've lost against boa hancock," the interviewer pushed his spectacles up, "do you think you'd ever be able to catch upto her?"

"well," you smiled, "she's number one for a reason. and this just goes on to show that i have so much learn to—" your gaze ran through the media people that sat in front of you and it felt like all of them were scrutinizing you under their hawk-like gazes.

you gulped, smiling harder, "i have to learn so much yet. and i wish, i do wish to get better. of course. but i have nothing but utter respect for the boa sisters."

"are you and zoro actually done for?" another voice asked, and you tried avoiding to look at the source. if you could ignore the question, then it'll be like it wasn't even there. but more voices piled on. more, more, more. till you felt like zoro's name was everywhere.. all-consuming. and your hands shook as you tried to sip down water.

but vivi came to your rescue. her polite tone turning vile as she leaned forward into her mic, "i would implore you to ask relevant questions only. i admire roronoa zoro, but he has nothing to do with our match."

"so, this means you and zoro are done for? but what was the reason?" the voices tried to dissect a relationship that didn't exist, "did he realize he couldn't be with someone beneath him? as his title as the number one, did you threaten his legac—"

"shut up. shut the fuck up." your voice was soft against the mic, eyes malicious, "this is enough. thank you."

and you found yourself dragging your chair backwards and walking away from the panel you and vivi were sat on. your guards behind you and vivi as you walked down the wretched hallways. the blue-haired trailed after you, her tone worried, "hey, are you okay? they're assholes, ignore them. hey—"

but you couldn't hear anything.

a low buzzing in your head, and your body felt like jelly as tears threatened to fall again. something sharp in your chest dug itself deeper and deeper till it made a home in your bones. and the overhead lighting of the halls felt too bright as you walked away from the stadium and to your car. and next you knew, you stood at the reception to the hotel. mindlessly collecting your key and walking over to the elevator, you felt nothing.

you felt nothing as you had entered the hotel lobby and the dizzying smell of expensive perfumes permeated your figure. you felt nothing as you passed the expensive marble halls to reach the elevator. in fact, you felt nothing as the metallic box creaked slowly and you reached the fifth floor.

but... did you feel nothing as you stepped out the elevator, took slow steps and lifted your head up just to find roronoa zoro standing at your door?

you halted and he looked at you before pursing his lips, as if unable to say anything at all.

and you shared the same sentiments. so, you just nodded at him. not even bothering to ask why he was here, how he was where? why? you simply walked upto him, swiped the key-card and stepped in, allowing the mosshead to step in after you.

"you're not supposed to be here." you admitted, locking the door. giving him a brief look over your shoulder, "we're done pretending."

"i'm aware."

you hummed, walking past him and collapsing at the edge of the bed. your nimble fingers moved downwards to your shoes as you began to undo the laces. but calloused fingers stopped yours, as zoro kneeled down to peel the shoes off your aching feet.

"you don't have to." you tried to reason but his head was tilted downwards, avoiding your piercing gaze, "i know."

you sighed, "i'm tired, zoro."

he moved the white shoes to the side, "let me run you a bath."

your palms fell flat against the soft mattress, voice tethering on the edge of unraveling, "i didn't know you were here. you weren't in the audience in the stadium."

"i was." he looked up, eyes softening at your downcast features, "i- jus' thought we were done pretending, so, didn't try to make a show of it."

"that's nice of you," you replied back softly, head tipped back to stare at the spotless ceiling. but the man cut you off, "you did good."

the crisp linen under the palms fisted involuntarily, your lips pressing into a thin line, "you don't need to flatter me."

"'m not." he stayed kneeling, tender gaze against your weary body. he repeated, "you did good."

lips trembling, eyes clenched shut, and throat closing up all over again, "i did not. i lost."

"stop saying it like that." he repeated, slowly getting up. and your bloodshot eyes met his as your body slumped forward. hands still digging into the flimsy linen, you stared up at him, "it's the fuckin' t-truth. i lost."

his careful touch lingered on your cheek, "you did more than enough. good job."

and everything inside you melted at his foolhardy touches, sobs racking through your body as he wrapped his arms around your and you clenched his t-shirt instead of those unfamiliar sheets. fuck. fuck. fuck. your tears wetted his shirt as you body shook against his familiar touches.

his heavy body grounded you, the familiar scent engulfing you as your world as you knew it crumbled around you. desperate, desolate, pangs of air hit his abdomen as you tried to catch your breath. only to fail, and break out in a sob, "—an' i tried. i did."

he stayed shut, allowing laments to drop down your words and land against his skin. your fisted hands landed against him weakly, striking over and over again, "fuck you. asshole." you breathed heavily before your voice grew weaker, "fuck you."

"'m sorry." he caught your hands slowly and held them still against his chest. you could feel the faint thrumming of his heart. thump, thump, thump. the same heart that so desperately tried to get you to love him again. but when had you ever stopping the man above you?

his calloused palms pressed against yours as you dragged your eyes up at him, and your breath got caught against the tangible threads of your lucidity.

roronoa zoro looked at you like you were his god.

he kneeled, meeting you on your eye-level. his hands pulled yours upwards, and he pressed another chaste kiss to the back of your palm.

and all of a sudden you were reminded of being sixteen, sitting on his old house's roof under the night sky, and asking him, "zo, why do you always kiss my hands?"

"because i'm a weirdo." he huffed out, and you grinned in return, "is perona's emo rubbing off on you. first the hair dye, and now this?"

his eyes widened, the sudden realization sneaking up on him like a viper, "no!" and he broke into a furious blush on that random autumn night.

"tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me~" you rubbed your body against his arm and he shivered under your touch. finally yielding to you, as he always did, he sighed. when he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper, "as... as a sportsman, my hands are all i have. and you're all i have."

and now the same man mumbled against your mortal flesh, promising ruins and riches in the same breath, "you can hit me, curse me, do whatever you want. just let me stay."

"how can i? it hurts."

and it did. all of it. your head, your legs, your chest, your heart. delicate hands trying to break free from him, tears spewing forth again and again and again till you met his eyes, heaving. expecting him to look at you with disdain, and finally giving up.

but his eyes was warm, hands soft against your skin, words honeyed, "then let me make it better." he came upwards, and his thumb swiped at the fallen tears, "let me try. one last time."

the resolve in his voice hardened, "give me one month. i'll win you back."

one month?

a/n: haha, look it's the girl who was stupid enough to fucking believe this story will end in two parts. i'm convinced nobody's gonna read it. but eh, what can you do? when it's done, it's done. i am contemplating making an ao3 account just so i can post longer stuff, so i hope if there's even one person who likes the idea of that, let me know! sorry this was so long guys :') tagging: @litlebruh @mist-ixx @briezy04764 @otkuhotgirl tysm for reading! i appreciate you guys sm! m.list

[souptastical]

im watching the extensive video Brooke's Moon made about the depths of the Marauders Fandom and they commented about how in a lot of hc's and fic Remus's parents are written as terrible people & they mentioned not liking that trope and I've been thinking the same thing for so long-

ive come across quite a few fics/hc's that point Lyall and Hope as both being terrible, and idk if thats a thing bc they canonically kept Remus in a bubble or bc it will just give more weight to the Tragic Backstory™️vibes, but I just wish it wasn't as popular:(

Though to be fair, I sometimes lean toward the hc of Lyall being supportive, loving and attentive to Remus while Hope (a muggle) feels in over her head and overwhelmed at the situation she finds herself faced with and ends up becoming distant to Remus and neglectful in the emotional sense.

As someone who's a slut for hc's that add well to canon + a writer that has to get into different pov's all the time, I tend to really like this train of thought:

Lyall is overwhelmed with guilt, he of course will only blame himself and his protective, worried parental nature will only get stronger as Remus's condition heightens but Hope...

She has her only son attacked in their home right before his fifth birthday & her previously sweet, lovely life is changed literally overnight- she was making birthday party plans for him then suddenly finds herself having to discuss with her husband about her child turning into an angered wolf, who they need to lock in a room every month

She is just starting to wrap her head around her husband's world and a literal werewolf breaks into her son's- who is literally a preschooler- bedroom in the dead of the night and fucking bites him, maiming him with a permanent scar & disease that literally shatters all the dreams a mother envisions as she watches their baby grow....

She feels terrible, all she wants is to help her son and protect him from what he will now have to face but she has something close to a psychotic break in a way as she hears the sounds he makes upon his first transformations

She realizes that her five year old child has literally turned into a blood thirsty creature. She can't take it, so she checks out in a way- becomes a ghost of her former self from the trauma, stops being the loving mother she once was and creates a barrier between herself and Remus as he grows up; a little out of fear, a little out of heartbreak.

anyway thats my two cents and its sorta a half hc for when im feeling particularly angsty- overall, i like to think moony's childhood was filled with overwhelming amounts of love to counteract the situation hes faced with🥺

[forgetminot]

Hey! Hope you are doing okay 🩷

I have a little request (if you feel comfortable, of course). I would love for you to write about Arthur Morgan x F!reader (Or GN), both are former lovers and they are reminiscing their time together. You can make it romantic, anyway you want. 🩷

Distant Memory

✿ Arthur Morgan x F!reader ✿

Warnings : TB Arthur (based in chapter 4 after he has been diagnosed- iM sOrRy) angst, fluff, past relationship, use of y/n.

Authors Note : I took the 'anyway you want' and rolled with it. I loved writing this thank you for the request queen 💙💙

Summary : You run into a familiar face and spend some time catching up and reminiscing.

You didn't expect him to look so... fragile- he wasn't well and you could see just from a quick glance in his direction. You turn around suddenly, retracing your steps as you follow behind the man and place your hand gently on his shoulder.

"Arthur?" He turns, slightly startled as you call out his name; you take in his appearance, his face was sunken and his complexion sallow. "It is you-"

"Y/n?" He speaks your name so softly you hardly hear him say it. "What are you doin' here?" He questions, motioning his hand to the busy streets of Saint Denis.

"Just visiting, it's nice to get away from the country now and then." You smile gently. "It's good to see you." You whisper.

"It-" He brings his hand to his mouth, coughing harshly. "-It's nice to see you." He responds as he wipes his hand against his shirt.

"You don't look well, Arthur..." You frown, taking his arm and stepping to the side of the street to stay clear of the bustling road. "How are you, how's the gang?" You ask. You knew little of the gang, only hearing stories from Arthur and seeing pictures of their faces littered on wanted posters.

"The gang-" he chuckles. "The gang has seen better days and, well, so have I." He sighs, leaning on his right side against the brick wall.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be, was going to happen sooner or later." He replies bluntly.

"What happened?" You ask.

"How much time you got?" He asks back.

"I'm not going anywhere." You smile faintly. "Would you like to go somewhere more quiet? It would be nice to catch up after all these years." You suggest.

"Uh, yeah, we can do that." He nods. "Do you have a horse?" He questions as he whistles loudly, watching as his horse trots towards you both.

"I took the train here." You respond.

He lifts himself onto his steed and holds out his hand for you, which you gladly take; he pulls you up and you sit behind him, placing your hands carefully on either side of his waist. He tells you to hold on tight as you both make your way out of the city, dodging people and wagons as you go. You ride in silence for a while and you watch as the landscape changes from thick, murky swamps to the vivid greens of the plains.

"This should do." Arthur says as he pulls tightly on the reins, bringing the horse to a complete stop. He gets down from the horse first and offers his hand once again for you to take.

"Thank you." You smile kindly as your feet touch the ground.

"Course, no problem." He nods and heads towards a small lake, sitting on the ground a few feet from it; you follow after him and sit beside him, grateful that the grass is dry and not caked in mud. "How's your family?"

"Oh- My mother passed not too long ago." You sigh. "She was sick, went in her sleep."

"I'm sorry to hear that, she was always a nice woman."

"She still was, until the end." You smile faintly. "My Pa is well, still strong after everything." You laugh. "I know the both of you never saw eye to eye."

"He never liked the whole outlaw thing." Arthur grins.

"So, what happened?" You ask, referencing back to the gang.

"What hasn't happened?" He scoffs. "Job back in Blackwater went bad, real bad- Dutch shot some innocent girl and he ain't been right since." He sighs. "Then we lost Sean, always thought I'd celebrate the day that annoying boy left." He chuckles lightly. "He was like a brother to me..."

"I'm sorry to hear that." You respond kindly.

"Lost Hosea and Lenny not too soon after that, bank job in Saint Denis went horribly wrong."

"So, that's what all the wanted posters are about." You acknowledge. "Hosea- you used to mention him all the time."

"He was a better father than my real one ever was." He hums. "Always told me I was an idiot for not running off with you."

You giggle. "I can't imagine how that would have turned out."

"Would have been nice." He replies suddenly, surprised by his own response.

"I think you're right." You beam.

"You do?" He questions, coughing lightly.

"You were always good to me, Arthur. Always looked out for me, made me feel safe." You smile sadly. "Maybe in another life, we would have made it work..."

"If i didn't have people to look after I-"

"I know." You cut him off. "You were always so loyal, it's one thing I loved about you."

"Wasn't loyal enough to you." He sighs.

"I always knew that the gang came first, even if you didn't want to say it out loud." You place your hand over his. "They're family."

"You could have been family too." He mumbles, taking his hand from yours as he coughs roughly into it.

You frown, moving your hand to his back. "You're sick, ain't you?" You say, already knowing the answer.

"I'm dyin'" He laughs coldly. "Got tuberculosis, beating a guy for a few bucks."

"Oh, Arthur..." You rub your hand up his back slowly. "I- don't know what to say- I'm sorry." You sniff sadly.

"Dont be, I deserve every last second of it." He states bluntly.

"Don't say that!" You scold.

"I ain't the same man you fell in love with." He responds.

"Even so, no one deserves this."

"I'm a killer, Y/n." He laughs, standing up. "I hurt people, I steal from 'em too."

"There's always some good in people, Arthur. You always did good." You express, standing up to meet his eyes.

"The person you knew, he's just a distant memory." He admits.

"I don't believe that." You step closer, taking both his hands in yours. "I don't think that part of you would just disappear, Arthur."

"You don't know me no more." He shakes his head.

"I do, because the person you are talking about wouldn't have spared me a second glance: wouldn't have helped me up onto his horse and sat next to me by the lake." You grip his hands tighter. "Maybe, if you really think you have changed- you should use the time you have left to be good."

"I- I'm tryin' to help people." He sighs.

"You are a good man, Arthur Morgan." You smile softly. "And I don't think you are too different from the man I never stopped loving." You place your hand against his cheek gently.

"Wish I never left." He whispers, placing his hand on top of your small one.

"We can't change the past." You frown.

"I'll do better." He insists.

You nod, leaning up and placing a quick kiss to his cheek. "I know."

[eldesperadont]

I absolutely get if a wrestler’s work is not for you, if you simply dont enjoy them, literally got nothing to add to that, we all have different opinions and tastes - but on the narrative side of things I‘ve been incredibly amused and annoyed lately with some peoples reaction to David Finlay

most and foremost: all knock-off Jay White comments. They are so funny to me cause yeah. The leader of a group that has always been a collective of bitter pathetic awful guys who are frustrated with how they are treated and make it everybody elses problem, is a jealous douchebag taking advantage of his biggest rivals and former best friends loss. Pathetically trying to outdo Jay but inevitably just turning into something like him. That seems to be the whole point. And for me personally a story im intrigued by - if you arent then 🤷‍♂️

Like, once again just talking about the narrative side, this is not about the booking business side of things, can i remind yall that Kenny and Jay and Devitt literally went through the same violent emo phases cause they were jealous of a partners success and supposed lack of attention from the company? And only saw their way out through taking advantage of BC? Its a whole thing lmao.

My overarching point to all of this is: im not surprised that guys on reddit that are looking towards Bullet Club for sth that isnt there right now are not being satisfied lol, AJ Styles fans pls switch the channel or open the archives if Styles era BC is what you wanna see, its been over 8 years.

Also a specific example cause i just saw it: people being like “why isnt someone like Gabe the leader”, listen to me. listen closely: you are watching story, a narrative! Thats ongoing!! There’s a reason why these young guys who graduated their dojos not that long ago are listening to this older dude who may not look as cut and lean as them, but who graduated before they even got here, who’s telling them what they wanna hear, is a 4th generation wrestler, and has Gedo on his side. (I know the old small bastard’s a meme but in text he still mentored both Okada and Jay to their success!) Please I’m begging these people to watch this story medium with its story in mind!!!!

[llycaons]

okay and here's p2. imagine me walking around going HELLO? HELLO? HELLO? HELLO???

armand isn't in a forgiving mood, which I can understand, but louis IS in excruciating pain so making him apologize NOW, and partially for TRYING TO DIE feels really petty

and now he's talking about selling...dude that's cold

HELLO?

armand. dude. what the fuck. stop torturing daniel to get back at a guy who's like half-dead. I wish this dl had subs bc armand going THIS IS FINE WE'RE ALL FINE is insane

we talk a lot about louis's trauma since the story IS about him but daniel recalling details like what products were being advertised on tv while staring at the cellophane-wrapped neighbor is like extremely horrifying and I don't like his unwarranted hostility and cruelty towards louis but given that experience I can understand his wariness the beginning of s1 better

the off-tune kazoos in the background. really fucky. im so scared

armand torturing someone louis likes in front of him to 'understand'...I guess the gloves are off. at the end of s1 everyone was claiming freaking out and claiming armand was WORSE than lestat which i think is pretty patently untrue but this man. this is real fucked up. I don't understand why louis stayed after this except...what, to make claudia's death not a waste? to have something to do to stave off his suicidiality?

I mean something they do have in common is being really obsessive and controlling over louis's affections/attention

'BARTERING WITH DESIRE IS THAT WHAT MAKES YOU FASCINATING' SAYS THE FORMER SEX SLAVE

daniel says he's good at getting people to open up which is funny because we have rarely seen this skill in the interview here

but ALSO. armand asks this and daniel actually engages, doesn't just yes-man to stay alive

well. a little

*physically and mentally torturing a guy who you're holding captive* DO YOU THINK I'M BORING????

armand's from delhi

'eager black hole' to contrast louis's tearful confusion

daniel's not hunting for the truth, in this moment. what's the point to his question? no point. fuck your boyfriend

oh shit, instead of armand and louis vs. daniel now it's louis and daniel vs. armand. hurry, he's almost back!

the feet in the sand!

one of the podcast groups I listen to is CONVINCED louis and armand want daniel to reveal some secret he apparently has, and that's the entire purpose of this interview and that's what 'we can have him saying what happened next in no time' means. I really don't understand that assumption. it just sounds like they're trying to control the narrative. but the interview structure is upended now. louis is asking daniel - try to remember! try! go back to the chair. what was happening? what was he saying?

it's also so disturbing hearing louis periodically beg for armand to help him from the bedroom. he can't even move on his own! it hurts! and he doesn't have claudia anymore :(

based on what I know about the novel it sounds like they ramped up armand's malice in this episode. oh wait no he goes and does it

you can see his big vampire fang wounds right there too

*leaning over your grievously wounded boyfriend* so why are you still so obsessed with your ex?

ahhh so louis's description of lestat WAS exaggerated compared to what he shared privately with armand. and armand theorizes this is because...he wants lestat to chase after him again? unhinged, but both of them have made poor decisions when it comes to lestat so I'm not surprised by the suggestion

🙄 over armand being like 'ohh im trapping you in ~empathy~ so I guess I'll selflessly leave you to the man you really want as an act of service' as if louis wasn't HALF-DEAD and lestat wasn't his abusive ex OUT FOR BLOOD. more like acts of DISSERVICE amiright

FUCK HE CONTACTED LESTAT????

okay I SQUEALED 'YES IM HERE'!!!!!!!!! BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOUIS IS SAYING NO!!!! WHAT A NIGHTMARE!!!!

'oh hon hon hon louis louis whet hes heppened why hev you injured yerselfff mon cher mon cher' omggggg and armand CANT SAY I LOVE YOU SCREAM

'you left me for death' way to make his suicide attempt about YOU

this is such an insane comment to make and I apologize in advance but this would never happen with wangxian because lwj knows the importance of being selfless and supportive and doesn't take suicide personally. wow such a strong couple 💪actually how funny is it that I'm watching this messy complicated show about toxic relationships between awful immortals and going 'hmm NOT getting a lot of fanfic wangxian vibes from this' like yeah I should read more romance but I simply do not like it! so many of the tropes are boring and played out!!! what's a girl to do!!!

REST

REST

REST

SUDDEN TENDERNESS??? ARMAND?????

ah no. the softness of murder

this speech he gives must be close to what they said to their prey in the theater. he's very good at it. your future is bleak and will be full of regrets. living is hard. do the easy thing instead and die here instead. and I'll take care of you. I'll hold you. rest now. rest

and we know that obviously daniel doesn't die here so it's not so much tension as the somberness and weight of the moment. it's a beautiful scene, and terribly tragic. a murderer - a predator - is convincing his victim - his prey - to give up. to simply stop resisting, and allow himself to be consumed

but daniel has two daughters and a successful career in the current day so we know that's not how this ends. louis again! not asking. maitre and arun. the script is flipped once again. who's really in power in this relationship for long? daniel must live as a testament to our companionship. let him go. so armand does

and what DOES louis see in daniel? is his long-neglected humanity returning? what is he saying to him, in his excruciating pain?

oh my god. reading his own book. he remembered every word. he gave him a lifeline. he gave him a lifeline. because there are stories out there and they need to be told, and daniel is passionate about telling them, his life matters, and he isn't inconsequential. and no matter how his marriages crumbled or his daughters stopped talking to him or his career stalled or his health faltered that was always going to be true. daniel's life mattered, and it mattered that louis saved him that night.

and louis taking on the voice of a god or angel...wow. wow. damn

the precise edit on daniel and louis's memories. of course it's armand. just like the ruler, slicing away the pages of claudia's journal so neatly.

louis's feetsies 🥺 so sweet

louis and daniel vs. armand....louis easy and calm, and armand slightly nervous - what have they been talking about while I was gone? san francisco?

HELLO. I PRESERVE YOUR HAPPINESS WHEN YOU CAN'T???

WHY DOES THAT SOUND SO FAMILIAR?????!!!! HMMMM ARMAND????

[lanaactuallyabanana]

Okayyy, so I decided since the last matchup I asked for ended up being *cough* The name we do not speak *cough*, I decided Imma ask for a redo on this cause... Yeah, I think you can tell why lol. I've changed since last year and that's gonna be noticeable in the updated matchup!

5'6 with semi-long, wavy, brunette hair and amber eyes. I have lots of freckles and glasses that have a black, square frame. In Summer, I usually wear pants and a tshirt, or shorts and a sweater. If I'm not wearing that, I'm probably wearing a dress. (Outfit reference is at the bottom). I have received a lot of support when it comes to my anxiety and while I have my moments, I am more comfortable being loud and energetic out in public. I'm a cat person and my love language is physical touch/affection, that hasn't changed in the slightest. I'm super big of PDA, I love hand holding, kissing, etc. Obviously nothing too much. No making out in public, just like pecks on the cheek.

To narrow down some other stuff, I'm straight, but no hate goes to the LGBTQ+ community, they super chill. I love nicknames, love stuffed animals, and love love love band. I'm a flute, as you know, and while I do suck at practicing, I'm not bad at it. I've met all my super duper close friends through band (including Jackie, she's a retired Saxophonist). I have a music stand in my room.

Or

Just for reference, I do like brighter colors like blues and oranges and reds and purples or violets.

Also, just to give a vibe check for the matchup:

Spotify ✅

YouTube ✅

Books ✅

Pinterest ✅✅✅✅✅

Take your time getting to this, I know I'm kinda flooding your inbox!

Eat, drink lots of water, take time to rest, take your time getting to this!!!!

-Kenzzzz :))))

i literally love hearing about you guys and your personalities, matchups are so funsies for me teehee (some of yall might think im a lil crazy for this matchup but trust the process)

, streamer matchups !

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

LOADING....

you have been matched with ... dream!

okay the first thing i thought about was height, i know some ppl dont rly care about it BUT

if you're 5'6...

and he's 6'2...

do we see the vision????

okay but srsly the height difference would actually drive people insane (including me.)

also yalls eyes would be so contrasting yet so complimenting towards each other (your hazel eyes + his green eyes)

y'all doing sorta matching outfits

like not completely the same print/pattern or that kinda thing

but like similar colors or formal/casual wear if that makes sense

just outfits that compliment each other cause its cutesy

hes the type of person to also comfort you in times when ur anxious or nervous in any situation

he could literally be on a meeting call but if he sees you needing him for something, he'll hang up instantly

you're the most important thing in the world to him out of everything

he loves holding your hands like holy shit

you have to pull this mans fingers off you so you can grab something or go somewhere else

the hand size difference omg im screaming

hugs omg

either hug you from behind from your waist or normal hugs but he'll lean down and place his head on your head

he loves to help you practice (former band kid writing this 🙋‍♀️)

page flipping on your stand

if you ever need a tuning he'll have it tuned asap for you

he has a metronome and tuner app on his phone for you

you helping him with music stuff

he loves getting your opinion on everything he does cause he trusts u sm

hes also constantly giving you stuffed animals

OMG YOU KNOW HOW PPL USED TO COLLECT SQUISHMALLOWS AND HAD THAT LITTLE ROPE THING ON THEIR WALLS HJDHASHSSD

he prob built something like that for you cause he kept giving you so many

no complaints here tho 🤷‍♀️

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

i loved writing this tehehehehehehehehhehehe !!! i hoped u guys enjoyed!

thank you to @catswithroses for the lovely ask <3

please support me and my writing by liking, replying, commenting, reblogging and following me! it means the world

love u guys xoxoxo

[neurotheascars]

My problem with Sophie is not the whole “anti endos are a hate group” thing. For me it’s the block evading, spreading rumors and straight up lies about other systems, and most atrocious of all was when she compared therians/alterhumans and the people who love them to literal zoophiles. She does more to harm and divide the plural community than she does to bring us together.

So I never said I support her 100 percent. I said I follow her and I won't be unfollowing her. The hate group thing is probably the least worse thing people have said about her so I knew this ask might be coming.

Maybe people are different but following someone means I want to read what they post. It doesn't mean I stan them. I do think what she says sometimes needs to be taken with a grain of salt. I don't agree with her position on radqueers, which is what I'm assuming this comparison between zoophiles and alterhumans is from. Im not radqueer and I don't support radqueers. I do however support the idea that harmful paraphilias are a mental illness that can and should be helped in therapy. I don't think paraphilias are a free pass to hate and dehumanize someone. I also don't think people with harmful paraphilias deserve a right to act on them.

I think a lot of people twist her words and then play telephone which makes me lean towards hearing her out at the very least. I don't like to take people at their word about others, I like to make my opinion based on what I see and not what is said about what I'm seeing. I'm open to seeing a screen grab of that comparison she made because I don't know if I remember the post clearly and if it's deeper than that I'd like to know. In my memory I think she was saying we're all equally shunned for the things we feel and I could be wrong. So remind me if you can.

I also admit maybe I have some grace for her because I think she's an angry former imaginary friend. I am also an angry former imaginary friend and I think a lot of her more spicy posts are colored by that position. It's a unique kind of trauma and I don't know if people in the system/plural community get it. It hits you a certain way when you spent a long time proving to the host that you're real and then get called not real on the regular in syscourse. I don't think people really get it. I don't agree with how she goes about saying a lot of stuff, but the meat or intent of what she's saying I tend to agree with enough to look past what I don't.

I think there was a point where her gloves came off and now she's fighting fire with fire. I don't agree with that approach either but it doesn't make the resources she posts less resourceful

Block evading is also not something I can agree with, but again I guess I don't think it's worth throwing her opinions out the window completely for. Especially when she seems to do this explicitly after she's been targeted.

I also think in the end the resources she's posted are worth being on the internet and I think calling her a complete menace to the community is very black and white when this really is an issue that's shades of gray. I don't think she's totally great, nor totally bad. I have good reading comp and I can disagree with 25-50 percent of what she says without hopping on the hate train block campaign.

I'll also say that I don't like the word tulpa. I prefer thoughtform because it's not a mistranslation based on a white observation of Buddhist practice. Thoughtforms and entitywork better describe the phenomenon of tulpas and tulpamancy. But that's just my opinion.

[jonathankatwhatever]

29 Apr 2024. I’m having trouble reaching proof acceptance and I keep coming back to D-structure. The idea is that ideal forms construct in 1Space, which goes beyond Triangular and Hexagonal, etc. Okay, so that’s a wrinkle to iron out: the difference in D-structure between counts along szK and counts along any Layer. The difference is visually obvious, with the former going in and out along rays corresponding to the level of the mapping, meaning idealized to the s,x,y,zK notation. Have not gone over that for a very long time: the notation takes that ordering to represent and map the enclosure of xK and yK within the s,zK. The reason for that is the s,zK appear in both Irreducibles in Triangular and Hexagonal, which literally encloses the D3-4//4-3 space. I try to call that gsSpace so I don’t need to specify Euclidean plus the abstractions necessary, such as points at infinity, all of which we generate through this very D-structure and the operation of the Triangular structure, which I’m leaning toward calling Ideal Structure, because that becomes the original Is conception which transforms into fCM. Intermediary stop is Identity Structure, because the essence of Triangular is that the connection over a third draws the 2 who otherwise may be entirely unconnected into a relation. That’s what we’ve been doing, in various forms, including the basic hump of distance.

There’s something in that. In distance. I’ll see if it comes back. So, we can describe that aspect of the ideal, and that generates complexity which reduces to real. That’s a direct line from something I’ve been hearing but have been having trouble believing, that the misdirection could be so completely encoded to be K and Identity Mechanism or Model. It is the Identity Model underneath.

What was that title? Something about constructing a specific universe of or which embodies a specific identity model. Get the idea? It’s that the identity model, the IM, must exist within a universe in which it is the identity model. I like IM because that means im can refer to the internal identity model, the arrow in, and IM can refer to the external identity model, which is the behavior of the identities, which are Things in our terminology. Feels very late 19thC, with the nice classifications.

Wow, something just shifted. A joke just emerged. A totally tasteless joke, the kind I associate with you because only you could go there. It’s that you could be Sylvia and I could write a fiction about how I made you do it. It’s disgusting, which cracks me up. To me, that’s like playing the piano and the melodies and rhythms come through me. You have to be able to go there in your head, to know the space so you know you haven’t walled off part of you that exists in that space. And how can you understand how those attract if you can’t even look at the chain which leads there.

I decided to test an idea and it failed in the first step. It was that living here shows the benefits of smaller housing units: it limits the number of people with money who come in because there are fewer single family homes, and the units tend to be smaller than in multi-family homes in wealthier areas. That means upscaling requires demolition, which requires higher prices to justify, which slows the process. But it fails at the first complication, which is how do you build this now? The cost of construction of new is too high for ordinary people to afford in an urban area. And ordinary is a wide range.

The answer for that, like so many others, is collective activity. But there are too many stakeholders and properties are individually owned. So no solution is possible. Subsidies don’t seem likely to do much.

BTW, are you why I woke up today pissed off? Or was that me with annoyance building from the lack of needed inspiration? Or just spring knocking me back?

Distance operates as the 0-1-0. Then we segment the 1, which means we K it, and the identity model generates the identity structure which Is. Put in the rest of the notation and that’s correct. Nicely done. The idea is that Is has natural, algorithmically generated structure. That gets us to another branching, which is the notation for structure versus operation, meaning that Is stands for both structure and the operation which Is, like the way a crowd at an event makes the Is of the event. That is why the event may be more or less than the sum of its parts.

That applies over scales. Brace for impact. Oh, it wasn’t much at all. Anticipation. It’s not just for ketchup. So I picked up the distance note. It works because we enable or rather demonstrate the existence of a structure which processes across grid squares, across gsSpace. That expresses in a variety of ways, one being the idea of a quanta, which we can at least point at as embodying fCM.

Is that any good? The Planck material gets me to one power of 10 off. That is, I’m good at 662.6 because that hits -32 and that fits the halfway character, that it’s coming into visibility. I can now ‘explain’ that away, but it may be bogus because I don’t have a way of checking. It’s that the halfway is either or and thus we need a 10 in the middle over which we flip. Makes sense. So then I’m good at 66.26 because that’s within the 0-1-0 range of CM28. That’s obvious, right? Stick it in the chain and you get 1 over the 1 to 1. How many years do you think that understanding has been fermenting? That it’s fCM is the key idea, and that has remained true from the start. Now we connect that to Is with a different specificity: that Is represents the lowest observable pattern within fCM which generates Is.

Never thought I’d get that piece done.

So, the conception of D-structure is that 1Space ideals construct and generate structures which take physical shape in gsSpace. That generates D3-4//4-3 out of Irreducibles in Triangular, which are also Irreducible in Hexagonal. But it’s Hexagonal which reduces to Triangular, so one can wind around a Hexagon, which relates to Winding in Triangular, meaning it maps one to the other. I’ve mapped this in my head as this Hex runs around and there’s an Extent connecting that to some other Hexes which do the same thing, very much like a search algorithm using a ranking method.

What about D5? I know it’s necessary within D-structure to complete the D4 level, that it must extent to all but the 1 of the 0 of D5. That’s like the wanderings in the wilderness lasting long enough to make sure the generation which arrives is born of those who were born in the wilderness, a sort of barrier or firebreak separating the experiences. What’s missing is understanding the role of D6 here. A solution appears within Triangular, becomes visible, as that which is beyond this. I tend to think directionally but that just means any of the axis Extents. Oh, I see: the sheet is a sheet and it takes sheets to generate gs, and one sheet is one Irreducible. That fits this together. Not entirely sure about the words, but that works.

That is a lot of visual work. I need a break.

[princessmia-tarot]

Hi, I was wondering when do your readings open. Like I know some people only do readings on the weekends. Do you have a set schedule like that or is it at random/when you feel up for it?

It's pretty random atm because I have a backlog from exam season, that's why theyre not open now. But tmrw im opening $1 (AUD) (so cheaper than $1 for like everywhere else) unlimited card readings for December. After that I don't know if i'll continue that cheaper reading model or go back to free simple and short readings and paid longer ones but im leaning towards the former since I think that'll be more popular but if anyone has opinions I am more than happy to hear. I'm always happy to accommodate to people's financial needs but I am trying to save for a car and to move out too so gotta find a balance. Usually they open when I'm on a lull from paid readings and in the mood to read but that could be whenever.

So yeah, opinions much much appreciated from anyone.

[shroomi1e]

it's always been you (zhongli x gn!reader) (reincarnation au)

summary: it doesn't matter to him which 'you' you are, as long as it's still you.

cw: mentions of death

a/n: IM SORRY I HAVENT POSTED IN A WHILE! ive just been very lazy busy these days :)

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

As a former archon, Zhongli isn’t unfamiliar with death. Being at least thousands of years old, the mortal life span is nothing but short to him. And after becoming the advisor for the funeral parlor, he only realizes even further just how fragile human lives are. Because of this, he’s learned to not hold on too tightly, but instead enjoy things as they are and let them move on as they are.

But this time it hurt more. A lot more than it should’ve.

Did he hold on too tightly? He wonders to himself as he holds his umbrella over his head, watching the rain pat against your wooden coffin. He moves his umbrella forward to shield you from the rain one last time, not minding that his suit is getting soaked. His heart clenches as he watches your coffin lower into your grave, signifying the last goodbye. You’re gone for good.

“Look at that one, Zhongli! It’s shaped like a mora!”

Zhongli pretends to pay attention, but he’s really only looking at your bright smile as you watch the Lantern Rite fireworks. You giggle as you lean your head against his shoulder, letting his warmth embrace you. Zhongli gently grabs one of your hands and intertwines your fingers with his, grasping tightly before reaching into his pocket to pull out a delicate jade ring. He loosens his fingers from yours to slide the ring onto your finger.

“I...hope you don’t mind,” he says, carefully watching your reaction. Your eyes are wide with surprise, darting between the ring and his face. The brilliant fireworks continue to go off in the sky, but the only thing Zhongli sees and hears is you. His golden amber eyes gaze into yours, his thumb rubbing your hand soothingly.

“Not even the most flowery poems or the greatest storytellers could put my love for you into words. Love is indeed the biggest contract of all, and I’m willing to commit my everything towards it. Are you willing to do the same?”

“Zhongli, you know better than anyone about our differences. I...I can’t be there for you forever. Are you sure you want to stay with me?”

He merely smiles and takes your hand in his once again. “You don’t owe me anything. Even if you won’t always be there for me, I can at least always be there for you. And that’s enough for me.”

Would you have had a wedding by now? Or perhaps the two of you would’ve settled into a house already? Zhongli tries his best to shake those thoughts away, only finding them hurtful due to his loss. He supposed he should’ve expected this, but... couldn’t you have left at least a bit later?

Years pass. The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is now in its 78th generation, and the city of Liyue has changed quite a bit. Though Zhongli remains unchanged, his calm and neutral persona is shattered when he sees your figure walk through the door.

He recalls both his knowledge from his archon days as well as the things that Hutao has taught him, but he can’t help but remain still in shock as he watches you, living and breathing, greeting him as if you've never met him before. Out of all the people to be cursed in the loop of reincarnation...why did it have to be you?

“Ah, you must be the renown Zhongli!” you greet. Your voice is still the same, clear as it was before. Zhongli can’t help but be flustered after hearing you call his name once more, his heart beating erratically at the sight of you.

“Y-Yes, that would be me. I assume you are the new owner of the funeral parlor. A pleasure to be working with you.”

And so from there on, he begins to fall in love with you all over again, and so do you. Zhongli takes you to the same places he took you before, telling the same stories in hopes you’ll like them just as much as you used to. Your soft giggles, surprised gasps, and playful jokes... his heart can’t help but ache at the memories of the past you, the first you that he fell in love with.

He patiently listens to your rambles and stories as if it’s the first time he’s heard them, letting out quiet chuckles at your jokes. He asks your favorites despite knowing the answers, buys you the gifts that he wasn’t able to buy you the first time, and even begins to carry his wallet with him a bit more.

But as all humans do... you leave, once again. It’s the same as before, rain pouring down as Zhongli gazes upon your wooden coffin, an umbrella in hand. He can’t tell if this hurts more or less. On one hand, he knows he’ll see you again, but one part of him is afraid he’ll eventually forget you, his memories eroded and gone in a snap of a finger.

And yet this continues for centuries.

Zhongli awaits nothing more than to see your smile again, to see you walking around Liyue harbor once more. And without even trying, the two of you seem to fall in love again and again, almost as if it was fate. You always find your way back to him, whether it be as a stall owner, treasure hoarder, or member of the Liyue Qixing. You always manage to stumble into his embrace and fall into his love.

And Zhongli doesn’t care how many times he’ll have to introduce himself, how many times he’ll retell his stories, how many times he’ll take you to see the fireworks, or how many times he has to bid you farewell. It doesn’t matter which ‘you’ you are, as long as it’s you.

In this ever-changing world, where nothing can last forever... you are his one and only constant. The one thing that will never erode from his memories, and the one person he will always love and care for, no matter how many times you part ways with him.

It’s always been you.

[whumpurr]

Adrien and Sawdust part 6

cw: pet whump, whump recovery, bodily mutilation, self harm, brief and vague mention of past noncon, dehumanization, conditioned whumpee, unreliable narrator, brief mention of dissociation

masterlist

Sawdust was searching for his bag the second Master was gone. He hopped out of bed, punctuated with a fit of dizziness as he got to his feet, and crawled around the room looking for his duffel bag. The bright blue bag was nowhere to be found, and Sawdust wasn’t great at seeing in the dark either.

He started to wonder, to second guess himself. Did Master put the bag somewhere in the room and Sawdust just isn’t seeing it? Is he overlooking it? Did he even have a bag at all? Did it come with him to this new house, or was it left with his previous master? No, no, he remembered seeing it next to his kennel with those other people.

If he left the room now, Master would surely hear it and question him, or worse, punish him for disturbing his sleep. As much as Sawdust wanted his ears back, he just had to trust that Master would return them in due time.

Sleeping was difficult without the familiar squeeze of his headband around his head, but with a full stomach he managed to eventually fall asleep even if it took a while.

Sunlight came all too soon for Sawdust. The light peeked through the curtains and he couldn’t physically sleep any more. He was dreading going downstairs and having to face his master, having to eat beside him. He could only imagine what his master was going to do to him. Would he record him? Bring his friends over and show him how pathetic and stupid he looked eating out of a bowl on the floor? Sawdust shook himself out of his thoughts; he was just a dog anyways, he shouldn’t have enough of an ego to be embarrassed.

He was getting himself out of bed, going down onto his hands and knees when he heard a soft knock on the door, followed by Master’s quiet voice.

“Sawdust?” Master said from the other side of the heavy wooden door. “Come on, let’s go get some food.”

Sawdust got to the door and opened it with his paw, stepping out and following Master.

Master gave him a bowl of dog food once he was downstairs. Sawdust half contemplated asking Master about his ears, but really, if Master had taken them away then it was because Sawdust did not deserve them any more.

“Master,” Sawdust murmured, “Is- is there anything your pet can- can do? To assist?”

Master looked thoughtful for a moment then laughed, laughed at Sawdust.

“I think my work stuff is a bit advanced for you,” Master took a bite of his own food, “I want you to focus on… recovery, for now. Okay? That means you rest up and come get me if you want anything, food, water, whatever.”

Sawdust nodded, “Yes, Master,” before he continued eating, the hard kibble crunching satisfyingly between his teeth. He couldn’t work up the courage to ask Master about the ears or his bag, or where they’ve gone.

Lunch and dinner went similarly, with Master coming, getting his pet, and taking him downstairs to eat. Each time Sawdust couldn’t work himself up enough to ask Master about his ears. The lack of his ears made Sawdust feel… Wrong. Like he wasn’t a real dog, like he was a subpar pet. He wasn’t good enough to this new Master who had otherwise been so kind to him. What had he done to deserve this?

Night eventually fell, and Sawdust did his best to do as Master said and get to sleep. He curled up in the nest of blankets and pillows that his Master had made in the corner for him, and let himself begin to drift off. As he was doing so, he couldn’t help but wonder why his Master was withholding his belongings from him. Nevertheless, his eyelids grew heavy, and he eventually fell into a deep sleep.

--

Adrien was still getting accustomed to feeding someone using a dog bowl, with dog food, on the floor. It was a strange experience, and doing it made him feel dirty, but it was all Sawdust was going to accept so if it was between that or making the pet starve again, he would have to go with the former.

He was still very aware of just how lost he was in all of this. He searched the internet and scoured his social media for something that could give him some kind of life preserver in all of this. Finally, finally, he found something. A chatroom for pet owners. From the looks of it, it was heavily moderated and geared more towards pet liberation activists, and pet rehabbers, and people who actually cared for their pets. He requested to join and was accepted within the hour. He immediately sent a message to the ‘help’ section.

Adrien: >> Hey guys, I’m a new owner and I didn’t do as much research as I should have. >> Long story short, I didn’t keep as close an eye on my pet as I should’ve, and he ended up not eating because I wasn’t giving him dog food. Is that a normal thing? How can I help him?

It wasn’t five minutes before one of the other owners responded,

1Y4N4: >> oof, thats no good dude.. definitely watch him harder and probably just stick to feeding him what he wants for now. u said hes new right? let him stay in his comfort zone for a little bit probably

Adrien: >> Thanks. I’ll do that.

1Y4N4: >> np, im a bit more experienced as an owner but i dont think mine were as conditioned as urs >> at least not in that way

Zo: >> Bro wtf? You’re the source of your pet’s whole life and shit, you really should’ve done more research.

Adrien sat and watched as this ‘Zo’ person continued to rip into Adrien for his irresponsibility, though the ‘1Y4N4’ user at least tried to defend Adrien. It wasn’t long before Zo quieted down and 1Y4N4 was able to speak up again,

1Y4N4: >> lots of actual dogs eat things that arent dog chow >> maybe show your pet some videos of people feeding their dogs other stuff, maybe hell be more open then

Adrien thanked the user, and used the rest of his evening compiling some videos and researching, finding the outer bounds of what dogs could eat in hopes that he could convince Sawdust. It was far from exactly what he wanted, but he felt some semblance of satisfaction that there was at least a way to progress forwards.

--

Sawdust finally came up with a plan when he was coming out of the bathroom the next morning. It was before Adrien had gotten up. As Sawdust was leaving the bathroom, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

His hair was all matted, and the fringe at his forehead was beginning to grow to hide his eyes. He looked lacking without his ears. There were deep circles under his eyes. At least the peaks of his cheeks and his lips were starting to regain some color now that he had a steady supply of food which he undoubtedly did not deserve. The scratched scar across his nose bridge and cheek that one of the other dogs gave him was still there. He looked at that and followed it across his face to his second ears.

His dumb second ears, the ones on either side of his head that his last master hated so much. His previous master had always told him that they made him look less like a dog, less like a pet, when a pet was all Sawdust ever wanted to be. Because if he wasn’t a pet, then he was a toy for both Master and the other dogs, and that was one step above the most reprehensible thing he could be. He had been downgraded to ‘toy’ for a short amount of time previously, and he was eternally grateful that he was never dropped even lower, to being nothing but food for the other dogs.

Master threatened that sometimes, chopping him up and feeding him to the other dogs.

Whenever Sawdust looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help imagine it. Being cut up and thrown to other animals to eat. He found some part of himself that felt that- even if he could never do anything else right- he could do that right. He tried to halt that train of thought as quickly as he could, before his mind shunted him off to some dark, foggy place where he couldn’t think or feel until the bad thoughts went away.

But at the root of those thoughts, he found the problem, as well as the solution. He scrambled down to the kitchen as fast as he could go, wanting to work quickly before he could stop himself.

He got to the kitchen sink, and stood up on trembling, unused legs. They could hardly support his weight, he had to lean onto the granite countertop with his elbows as he reluctantly removed the tape from his paws using his teeth. He would need his fingers for this.

Sawdust’s breath was quick in his throat, the edges of his vision grew blurry as he tried to focus on this and only this. He had one task and he was not going to fail it. He wanted his ears back. He wanted his master to be happy with him again. Maybe this way he could earn his master’s attention and... Maybe even his affection, if a pet was allowed to hope.

Sawdust’s paws were shaky and clumsy as they took out the biggest knife out of the wooden blog. It was heavy and cold in his paw. With one paw he held the tip of one of his second ears and pulled it as far away from his head as he could.

The cold edge of the blade rested on his skin, at the valley between his second ear and his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t break down now, he couldn’t stop now. He took a deep, sharp breath and pressed down on the knife as hard as his feeble paws could.

--

Adrien shot out of bed to the sound of a piercing, howling scream from downstairs.

taglist: @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi@neuro-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @whumpcreations @dancinglifeboat @pinkraindropsfell @looptheloup @cowboy-anon @meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine

[sukiglycerin]

it takes two || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, teeny bit of angst

* words: 1,647

* warnings: brief fighting scene (implied), swearing (duh), a lil bit of insecure katsuki but ofc comfort after, reader is mentioned to be in the hero business field, KATSUKI WEARS SHOES IN THE HOUSE !!! can you believe the audacity-

* original request:  Hello dear :)) Can I request a Bakugou x reader fic where he gets hit by a clone quirk and the clone is like the complete opposite of him, personality-wise, and Bakugou frequently loses his temper because the clone keeps hitting on his s/o I am sorry for bothering you :(

* a/n: you? bother me? never. actually, i’m sorry this took so long to complete! i’m hoping i can restart a consistent posting schedule soon. happy early birthday bakugou! this is my gift :) i hope you all enjoy~ i love @toishi for proofreading this T^T

it’s a lazy day for you. all you’ve been doing is sleeping, waking up occasionally to eat, and indulging in six different rhythm games despite your lack of rhythm, it’s a good day, snuggled up under the mountains of fuzzy blankets and squished in between soft pillows on your bed, your favorite song quietly playing from your phone on your nightstand. natural light fills your otherwise unlit room, curtains pushed aside to let the sun shine in her full glory. time is idle in this sanctuary of yours for only today; whether a minute or an hour has passed is something out of your concern. 

there’s nothing different when bakugou comes home, the jingle of keys and click of the door telling you that it’s him. he’s oddly quiet, though, and for a second you’re almost wondering why he hasn’t yelled “i’m home, dumbass!” before said blond peeks his head into the room. 

“hey, love,” he flashes a rare smile. it’s kind, like the soft light of the sun you've become so acquainted with. “i’m home.”

“hey?” you sit up, propping the pillows behind you so you can comfortably lean against the headboard of your bed. “you feeling alright?”

you expect a gruff reply of “the fuck are you talking about?” and a scowl, but get the opposite. a pleasant expression graces katsuki's face, which makes him look more handsome than usual. his hair almost seems tame this way. he’s also uncharacteristically clean; his costume is usually dirt-treaded and at least a little battered whenever he returns from hero patrol. now, though? his outfit is pristine, as if pulled out from a laundromat and ironed professionally. there’s a ghost of a frown on your lips.

"i'm lovely, now that i can see you." the line is spoken like a sappy confession from the male lead of a k-drama; you'd laugh if it wasn't for your utter confusion about katsuki's sudden change in demeanor. his facial expression is twisted in such a gallant way that it arouses suspicion in you.

you’re opening your mouth to reply when there’s a startling crashing at the front door. katsuki’s face falls into downhearted dread, as if expecting the intrusion. his reaction surprises you more than the intrusion itself. the door slams shut in the distance, rattling the house. the sound of boots clomping against the hardwood floor frightens you as you thrust your warm sheets aside (alas, they could wait) and reach for your bat under the bed. katsuki only stares at you, transfixed, and you feel the slightest urge to clobber him with the weapon. why isn’t he ready to fight? you’re up and approaching the doorway of your bedroom when you stop in your tracks.

“hey, fucker!” a loud, abrasive voice yells from down the hallway. “i found ya!”

you recognize that timbre in an instant, then turn to look at katsuki, still standing at your bedside, with a questioning gaze. he’s wearing an expression you never thought you’d see your husband have - his eyes are wide, mouth agape like a deer in headlights.

despite this vote of inconfidence from him, you pad forward slowly, bat gripped tightly and slung over your shoulder. you plunge forward, passing the doorway and glancing left. a shadowy figure stands five feet from you, its stature menacing. you swing blindly, but you bat is only met with more air. the figure is a little bit further now - damnit, it had good reflexes.

“you could still use some work on that swing,” it lowly chuckles and confuses you. you squint, trying to make out who in the world this guy thinks he is to comment on your swing. you gasp, faltering your grip on the bat. 

“k-katsuki? what?”

“got hit with a stupid clone quirk on patrol,” this katsuki grumbles bitterly, stepping towards you. he’s dressed in his full hero costume, green grenadier bracers a tight fit in the narrow hallway. “i apprehended the guy but my clone won’t stop following me around. it’s stupidly fast, too, whenever i try to catch it.”

“....and,” you start, “how do i know that you’re not the clone?” you pretend to inspect him close, eyes slowly trailing from the tips of his spiky, golden hair to his black combat boots. (oh, man, you were going to yell at him about wearing shoes in the house later.)

“don’t start this inception bullshit with me now,” he groans. 

“what’s katsuki bakugou’s favorite food?” you question, though you have no doubt that this katsuki is the real one. 

“anything spicy,” he bemoans. “now, let me-”

“that was an easy one.” you shake your head. “what was the first idea katsuki bakugou had for a hero name idea instead of lord explosion murder?”

if you were in better light, you’re sure you would’ve seen his cheeks flush pink. 

“mighty boom,” he mumbles. 

“sorry, what was that?” you tease.

“mighty boom!” he half-shouts, flustered.

“oh, okay, so you’re the real katsuki,” you say. “how do we defeat the clone?’

“according to the quirk user, it should disappear after two or three hours. but it can’t really do much harm, as long as it’s not in the sight of the user himself,” he says. “now let me at ‘im. he’s making a fool of myself.” 

he attempts to shove himself forward, but you stop him before he can see through the door frame. you glance at the clone, who’s looking at you with round, ruby eyes. he looks like a puppy with that innocent expression, and for a split second, you think that you actually might miss the calm, charming air of this katsuki. turning back to the real katsuki, who pretends not to notice the shift in your eyes, you exhale. 

“have at it, but take it outside first, please. i can’t have you tracking in more dirt.” you look to the dirt-ridden footprints behind him on the wooden flooring, sighing.

but in a flash he’s past you - wow, you really weren’t blocking him at all before, were you? - outfit a blur of black, green, and orange as he seizes the clone, slings it over his shoulder like it's made of air, and vanishes past you and out the door. he seldom leaves a trace of dirt, this time, smooth maneuvering himself outside while the clone bids you one last pleading farewell.

you hear blasting, yelling, and yelps, the lattermost presumably the clone’s, barely muffled from your position inside. your first thought wonders what the neighbors will think. you glance one last time at the tracks of katsuki’s boots then turn back to your room. he’d have to mop up that mess later. 

ten minutes and an eternity later, katsuki returns inside. by the pause at the front door, you figure one of two things: katsuki’s either taking the time to take off his shoes and put them away properly or staring at the filth he left on the floor. you’re hoping it’s the former. his footsteps are light as he goes to fetch a mop and clean the mess.

finished, he shuffles into your shared room and briefly looks at your comfortable position on the bed.

“what?” you whine. “hero business is hard. i needed a day off.”

this earns a laugh from the man, who’s in the process of removing his gauntlets and stowing them away. he shrugs off the rest of his costume, opting for much more comfortable attire and dropping his mask on a dresser. 

“how was your day?” you ask when he snuggles next to you on the bed. he’s sweaty and smells deeply of caramel, but you’ll nag him to shower later. the wear shows in his eyes and movement, sluggish after a long day of work. 

“good,” he mumbles, nuzzling into your warmth. “except for that clone bastard.”

you hum, joking, “he was charming, though.”

when he looks up at you with a vulnerable look in his eyes, you regret it.

“did you… really like him that much?” his voice is hoarse, scarcely a whisper. he averts his eyes, fiddling with the hem of your shirt sleeve.

“of course not,” you reply tenderly, bringing your hand to caress his cheek. he still can’t look you in the eyes.

“you know you’ll always be number one in my heart, right? even if you’re not the number one hero, you’re the constant in my heart.” you touch your chest, right over your heart. 

“y-you sure?” his words crackle like dying embers, inconsistent and unstable, flakes of lit ash that weakly dissipate into the atmosphere. a waning fire is still warm, though; with a bit of oxygen it can be rejuvenated, relit, and burn bright once again. 

“am i one to be wrong?” you ask him, and he faintly shakes his head. “i fell in love with you not for your looks, katsuki… i don’t want a disney prince. i want you, not some fairytale guy.”

“i yell, and i’m brash-”

you cut him off, chuckling, “and that’s what i love about you. you don’t-” you make a vague gesture with your hands, then drop them, unsure how to articulate your thoughts. “you don’t care what people think. you’re unapologetically… you.”

“you sure?” katsuki tries again. “that- that guy, that thing- you sure you don’t prefer a guy that’ll buy you roses with a note on the tag that says ‘you are the most beautiful flower in my garden’ in fancy cursive script on it?”

“do people really do that?” you frown. “i mean, i hope no guy does that for me-” katsuki exhales a breath of relief. you look at him questioningly but don’t press the issue. 

“i love you, katsuki,” you finish, “and no shitty clone will ever change that. ever.”

while he showers, katsuki’s thankful that he burned the roses from some secret admirer he found in your shoe locker during your high school days. 

[dreamii-yume]

Did you say birthday crumbs? 😌😌😌

I saw the cradle in his bday card and immediately thought. Lilia likes babies. He wants babies. MC can give him a baby... Whether she likes to or not.

It's his birthday! Why don't she fulfill his wish, please?

Yume may be very late for Daddy Lilia’s birthday, but there are never truly a time where we can be “late” for hornii. (΄◉◞౪◟◉｀)

“You would be a great mother. I’m sure of it.”

Lilia had randomly told you that one day as what you initially thought as a strange way of breaking the silence. You didn’t think too much of it, there were more things that the old fae had said that left you speechless after all. You laughed at it and took it as a compliment instead, flattered even. He was truly a man full of surprises, you naively thought that day. You didn’t even notice that glint of mischief in his eyes, a sign that may or may not just be some childish intuition, but he was dead serious.

...You know, thinking back, you should’ve noticed all the signs while it was still there, harmless and tamed. You did not understand what he really meant by it, but you accepted it anyway, since you genuinely thought that he meant no ill will. It was most women’s dream to become a good mother after all and you just happen to be very good at taking care of kids. So, for this talent to be recognized by someone older and more experience than you in raising kids, it made you happy. But ever since that day, Lilia started acting strange towards you.

...For some reason, every time you meet up with him, coincidentally or not, it was always your stomach that he’s most especially delicate to. During one of his surprise acts of affection, his hands would always snake down across your tummy, caressing them through your shirt. Whenever he’ll take the opportunity of resting his head down on your lap, you’ll find him eyeing your stomach with a loving look in his eyes, almost as if he’s waiting for something. Even times when you’ll suddenly find him in your bed the next morning, leaning his ear on it like there’s even something to hear on the other side. When you get scratches and wounds just near your waist line, Lilia would freak out and patched you up as fast as possible, whispering something about how upset he is for something to damage your skin on this specific spot.

You weren’t one to judge people, Lilia was a man full of surprises after all. It wouldn’t be too strange if he has some kind of stomach fetish of some sort. Even though you knew that this man was a lot older than what you already thought, Lilia knows best on how to use his appearance as weapon and mean to get out of the situation. He’s so childish and mischievous, kinda like how a typical young boy would act, and to you, who’s weak against the affections of a child, it was a blade that cuts you deep. It bothered you for a bit, but eventually got used to it, letting him do what he wants.

“Eh? Lilia-senpai, you have kids?”

“You can call them that, but they’re not my own.”

Eventually, you started catching on his true intentions bit by bit and they were surprisingly very wholesome...At first, at the very least. He was very careful of not naming the identity of the children that he took care of, but being able to hear him fondly remembering his moments with them, you came to understand him a bit more. You didn’t want to assume to much to a life that you’re not very familiar with, but a simple thought came into your mind.

Perhaps, Lilia was simply...lonely.

He is fond of children, and had claimed to raise some until they could walk in their own out in the outside world. His bond and love for them was undoubtedly absolute, but as he said, his relation to them was not something that he could call his own. Perhaps Lilia was not interested in your abdominal region alone, but instead of the womb that can bare those children. Thinking that, you almost considered all his actions justified, not that you didn’t before, but at least you have some sort of context behind it. Lilia said that you were going to be a great mother someday, but with these thoughts in your head, you just can’t help but think that it’s a compliment that best suit him instead.

...That’s what you kept thinking as he one day grabbed you by the hand, leading you in the bounds of his room. His hands were so smooth, moving across your arms, legs, and back, giving you goosebumbs along the way. Of course, his last destination was on your stomach, going underneath your shirt and feeling warmness of it all. He nibbles on your neck like a little mouse, but with one wrong move, his fangs could absolutely pierce your flesh open. Charmed by his hypnotic touch, you reaction didn’t quite line in with your rationality as Lilia pulled you by your chin and slammed his lips against yours.

With his tongue playing inside your cavern, his saliva felt as if it was laced with natural aphrodisiac, rendering you immobile. You were surprised, but got you distracted enough to not be able to notice your clothes slowly being stripped away. Chuckling, Lilia couldn’t help but find yo oh-so adorable, having to completely wrap you around his fingers

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

“P...Please...I-I’m so full...” You sobbed as you covered your face in embarrassement, still in disbelief that something like this is happening to you. “Pull out...! Please, I c-can’t take any more...!”

Flinching as his fingers traced over the small bulge in your stomach, filled with the seed that can penetrate the depths of your flower so easily. “Not yet, Love. Just a little more.” He whispered, eyes half-lidded and seemingly drunk with both lust and pleasure. “We’ll have to make sure that you get the most of it in.”

A sharp, burning pain spread from your lower region as he pushed himself in your cunt deeper. “Aagh!” You squeaked as you instinctively grabbed the sheets and grit your teeth. Despite his best attempt of stuffing your hole with his own cock, his overwhelming cum had still managed to seep out through the gaps and stains the bed. Lilia hummed in disappointment, before scooping some in his fingers.

“Aw...What a waste.” He sighed, coming into terms that your human body just doesn’t have enough capacity to hold truck-load of a fae’s love juice. You also hoped that he had come to understand that yourbody is practically giving out on you. You’re exhausted, after being relentlessly fucked for hours, you just wanted to let your heavy eyelids fall but every time you do so, Lilia would use pain to wake you up. However, he took one look at the white substance sticking to his fingers and he proceeded to glance back at you, the look in his eye was not something you appreciated. Unfortunately, you were not given enough time to ponder over what went through his head as he suddenly shoved those cum-filled fingers inside your mouth.

He pinches you tongue, smearing the flavor of his love juice on your taste buds with a sadistic smirk on his face. “...Guess we’ll just have to improvise, yeah~?” He playfully said, as your mouth quavered whilst forcefully tasting his salty juices. You whined at his actions, but Lilia sighed heavenly from just your horrified and tearful expression combined. “Aah...What a good girl...I knew you were the perfect fit for me~!”

To your dismay, he began to move again, motivated to ruin your body both inside and outside once more than it already is. He pulled his fingers out of you, before immediately cupping your cheeks obsessively. “Those eyes...Oh, how I love those eyes.” Lilia said and in an instinct, you closed them as a force of habit when he began to move his hips, dragging your battered walls along. “...The eventual eyes of a dedicated mother, a loving wife.”

“Even after all this time, your eyes haven’t died yet. How wonderful...” You cried as you felt the disruption straight into your womb, toes clenching as you weakly gripped onto him. “This is exactly why...”

“...You would be a great mother, Darling...” Lilia told you once again, reminiscent of his former words but now carries a heavy burden on you. His eyes glows red, learning closer to your lips to give you yet another painful, yet passionate kiss. “...And just the perfect, loving wife that I dreamt of.”

Since I was late, this doesn’t seem to have anything related to Lilia’s birthday at all (*´Д｀*) pls im sorry my head is long been drained but regardless, Yume’s still going to put this in the Birthday Crumbs watch me break my own rules lol

Yume’s Resolution is to get a driver’s license and be better at it, and write sinfics faster. (*´꒳`*) What’s yours, Darlings?

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Part I

A lamb in a den of lions, he thought, watching the newcomer as she settled in, ordering whiskey neat. A fool, for sure.

A fool she may be, perhaps, but even fools could be dangerous. Eren had known that the young woman was a Hunter from the moment she entered the bar (everyone else had, too) but something told Eren that she was hardly cut from the same cloth as the average Bane of Creatures. There was something in her movements— a predatory grace in her stride, perhaps, or a stiff, straight posture, with muscles tensed and ready for action— that betrayed her power to him; but for all that, she really was lovely, and the image of a rabbit caught in a patch of bramble came to mind whenever he looked at her.

Sitting in a corner, drinking his B-neg, he watched the woman as she sipped her drink, checking over her shoulder now and then. She was wary— as anyone with good sense would be— but she didn't appear frightened, and Eren's curiosity was piqued. It wasn't every day that someone so bold happened across his path, and it became harder and harder for him to resist the urge to approach her.

Eventually, Eren gave in to his curiosity— he never had been very good at or even particularly fond of restraining himself— and when he came silently up behind her, the newcomer didn't even notice his presence until he murmured a greeting close to her ear.

"Hello, little love," he said, and she startled in her seat. "Are you lost?"

She turned around then, her eyes big and bright in the dim lighting of the bar, but by the time she managed to look at the spot where Eren would have been, he was already seated on the barstool beside her. Eventually, though, her eyes found his, and when their gazes met, Eren was amused to find no fear in her visage.

"Far from it," she told him, turning her body towards him. "I am precisely where I mean to be."

Eren blinked, nonplussed.

"Curious," he said, leaning forward so that she could see the sharpness of his teeth as he spoke. "Do you fancy yourself a wolf among sheep, little Hunter? Did you really not think we would know you for what you are the moment you crossed the threshold of this place?"

Any normal, human ear would have missed the way her heart leapt in her chest, but Eren missed nothing. The fear he had hoped to inspire in her was present after all, but her face never moved from its impenetrable mask— an affectation that was somehow both soft and steely at once.

"That's not what I'm here for," she told him, widening the distance between her knees as she readjusted on the stool. "I'm here to discover the truth."

The truth— what an odd notion!— and yet Eren sensed no lie in her.

"You're a strange one," he told her, but forced himself to relax his posture to appear lazy, almost drunk. "Most Hunters— even ones so pretty as yourself— shoot first and worry about the truth later. What's your name?"

Her nose crinkled. "It's polite to give your own first."

Sharp, he thought, watching her closely. Names have power.

"Eren Jaeger."

"Eren Jaeger," she echoed, then extended her hand. "My name is (Y/N)."

That name sounded familiar to Eren— and though most names did after living a few centuries, this one seemed to hit closer to home. He knew that name, and knew it well…

"What's your surname?"

(Y/N)'s eyes flashed with an emotion that Eren didn't catch.

"Kirschtein," she replied, averting her eyes. "I'm Jean Kirschtein's great-great-great granddaughter."

And damn if Eren didn't want to laugh. Perhaps his nosiness into the posterity of his old acquaintances really was as bad of an idea as Armin always seemed to imply.

"I see," he said, and he truly, truly did. "Then you know who I am— what I am— and what I've done."

More than that, if she truly did know who he was, it was unlikely that she had come without a specific purpose in mind.

(Y/N) nodded, confirming his suspicions. "I was digging around in my family history and— well— I read what my grandfather wrote, and I just— I wanted the truth."

So wide-eyed, so innocent— so alive. Eren could see now her resemblance to Jean; if they were not similar in looks, she had his sharpness, his humanness… and, as he always had Jean, Eren envied her for it.

"If that's the case, then I'm sure you know that you don't get something for nothing," he told her, sipping his drink just to watch the expression on her face as he let the warm blood slide down his throat. "And that dealings with me can be dangerous."

"Jean Kirschtein loved you, Eren Jaeger," she told him fiercely and with such conviction that Eren nearly choked on his drink. "To take such a tone with me, to threaten me, the last living remnant of him, is the most disrespectful thing I've ever heard."

Eren was about to say that he didn't owe her, Jean Kirschtein, or anyone else any sort of respect, but she plowed on, unwilling to let him say his piece.

"You broke his heart a million ways by doing what you did, but— but he was your friend through all of it, no matter what side each of you were on," (Y/N) continued, passion aflame in her eyes. "I can't even imagine what inspired such a love, such a loyalty from him that he would forgive you for the horrors you caused. That's what I'm here to find out— what you have that a man such as him would find you redeemable."

The reproof in her words stung, but Eren was too old to argue. She could never understand what it was like back then.

"I understand more than you think," she snapped, and Eren actually flinched. "I understand that you hurt the woman my grandfather loved immeasurably, and that he forgave you for that even though he never even particularly liked you. I understand that you were ready to sacrifice the world for that selfsame woman, for Jean, and for all the others. I understand that you're a monster who loved and was loved back, but I want to know why."

How? Eren thought, shaken.

How had she known his thoughts? It was as though she had seen straight through to his innermost being.

Without speaking, she answered his question. (Y/N) took a hand and rolled up her left sleeve, presenting to him a scarred marking in the shape of a pentagram.

"My grandfather didn't settle down with just anyone," she told him, holding his gaze. "I come from a line of powerful witches, all of whom possessed strong claircognizance. Paired with my nature as an empath, you can assume I know what you're going to say before you say it."

Eren hummed, trying to appear less perturbed than he was.

"And yet you hunt Creatures for a living; strange, since you're practically one of us yourself."

(Y/N) glowered. "I hunt monsters that prey on my people, not Creatures. No innocent has died by my hand."

The unlike you went unsaid, but that didn't mean that Eren didn't hear it anyway.

"Don't get high-and-mighty with me, girl," he told her roughly. "Knowing is one thing, but experiencing what we experienced is another."

"I'm not here to judge you," she replied. "I told you, I'm here for truth, nothing more."

"And I told you that the truth doesn't come for free," he told her darkly. "You must give me something in return."

(Y/N) set her jaw.

"What would you have of me?"

It was a mean, base request. Eren was wicked for even thinking it, and vile for wanting it— but looking at the great-to-however-many-degrees granddaughter of a good man that he had once known, seeing the vitality that brought a flush to her cheeks and thumping to her heart, he knew he couldn't pass up this golden opportunity.

It had been so long since he'd had a Companion.

"Become my cupbearer for six moons," he told her, crossing his arms. "Starting with tonight, the moon becomes new; let me drink from you until six of these have passed, and along the way, you will learn what you want to know."

(Y/N) eyed him warily.

"Can you assure my physical safety?"

Eren grunted, almost amused. It was a bit late to be worrying about that.

"I think you know that I can."

"And will you let me continue in my duties as a Hunter?" she asked, her eyes searching his own as if she would find the answer to her question there inside the same eyes he'd had since he was nineteen. "Completely uninhibited?"

"That depends. Will you kill Creatures in the discharge of your duties?"

(Y/N) made a face. Eren had forgotten how expressive mortals could be, but he found that being reminded was not altogether unpleasant.

"You know I will," she replied, "But you have my word that any killing won't be unprovoked."

Eren supposed it was as close to a compromise as he could expect.

"As you wish it, so shall it be."

He turned away, signaling to the bartender for another drink, but a lightning-fast hand shot out to grab his wrist.

"Swear it," she demanded. "I need us to be Bound by it."

The meanness in Eren finally won over. He reached forward, grabbing (Y/N) by the neck, and the silver rings on her fingers burned him as she pulled at his hand to try and restore her breath. Eyes from all around the room were on the two of them— had been, since the very beginning— but it was only once the Hunter before him began to look appropriately humbled that he withdrew.

"Do not touch me without my permission," he said, "And I will return the favor."

(Y/N) looked at him then, but there was still no fear in her eyes. Anger, yes, but no fear.

She must be mad, or foolish one, he thought, considering her for a moment. I always have been partial to mad fools in general, but…

Something about her seemed different, and Eren didn't know what to do other than accept what she had to offer. Heavens knew he was getting the better end of the deal anyway.

"Swear it," she repeated, this time more quietly. "Give your word, and I will be your cupbearer."

Eren brought his hand up and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. At his will, the nail tip of his forefinger sharpened, hardening into a point; he used it to draw an 'X' onto the skin just over where his heart rested inside his chest, cold and dead. Blood welled into the cut— precious little, compared to that of a human, but still enough to run down his chest in smudges— and it was by that blood that he swore. He spoke the terms of their agreement, then took the blood from his wound with the pad of his finger and marked the same spot over (Y/N)'s own heart.

"Satisfied?" he asked, their faces almost touching, and (Y/N) shivered.

"Yes."

Her warm, living breath fanned over his face with her reply, and Eren took the moment to close his eyes and appreciate the scent and sensation of it.

"You may think you're satisfied," he told her, pulling away, "But you don't know the meaning of the word."

She eyed him warily, but before she could speak, he added, "In six months' time, I'll ask you the same question, and it is then that you will truly know what it is to feel satisfied— satiated in every way."

"As you say."

It was a throwaway comment, nothing more than a dismissal, really; but Eren felt like it was the start of something truly remarkable.