#this sounds like a horrible time tbh like..

[alternautxyz]

uuhhh in other new that lmk s5 trailer dropped and people are very

mixed

for context the new season is being partly animated by wildbrain i think. flying bark is still working on the show but probably due to all the other projects they've been working on like the atla movie the animation is off.

its understandable that people are upset. lmk has some of the most consistently dynamic and lively animation ive ever seen, and going from that to ok animation kinda sucks. as a culmination of a lot of what the series has been building up to people were inevitably going to be disappointed

at the same time people shouldnt harass animators. like ever. no amount of trying to petition or anything will change the s5, people are just trying to do their job and theres no probably no major changing to the finished product by now. and theres still a lot of that lmk charm in there, and we haven't even seen the whole season yet to judge it. flying bark is still working on it, and even if the animation never reaches the peak of the old seasons it still has the same writers so at least the writing has the chance to live up old standards. idk though we'll just have to wait and see

[meimeikyu]

hi okay more festivalverse rambles

so geno n dust r kinda a duo 2 me n have some similarities in my au, mainly being they are both unconventional (created) gods, and they were both brought back from the dead without their consent

their main DIFFERENCE however is their outlook on that fact. geno wanted to have more in life he wanted to get more out of it but didnt get the chance, so getting revived 10 years later and being immortal though not being the best outcome he really is okay with because. he gets to be alive again. everything is different sure but he wanted to live and he gets to

DUST HOWEVER. dust HAD lived. not a good life, definitely not a great one but enough of one. one he was.. mostly content with. and he had a specific view on if he was going to die he was going to die. he knew itd happen, not when it would, but that it would and he was okay with that. so getting ripped back from the dead by someone who SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER was fucking horrible for him. not only that but his death was not calm or peaceful it was scary and painful and HURT. so being brought back from that permanently affected his soul in a way that has that pain and anger and fear ingrained into him permanently. and it kinda only goes worse for him for a bit from there :/

[uygfiug]

sometimes my parents make me want to commit violent crimes

[flashhwing]

beware of giving your characters silly names, lest ye end up with complicated tragic emotions associated with the word "juice"

[beanghostprincess]

I like to imagine that after Sanji transitions and they all get new bounty photos, she's like 'oh thank GOD' but when they all finally get to see the new photos. Sanji's is still as much as a Travesty as before.

You may be able to change your gender but you cannot change the bad luck that is Picture Day

I like to think she gets a gorgeous picture for her bounty (even if she's not passing, bc that's stupid and she doesn't owe normative femininity to anybody and she's gorgeous no matter what!) and she looks so good even Nami is a bit jealous but they're all happy for her and the only reason her other bounty posters were shit was that she wasn't being true to herself. And then Zeff sees the wanted poster and hangs it right in the kitchen where everyone can see his daughter <3 And if anybody says something dirty about her he'll just kick their asses!

[thecherrygod]

/

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

the thing about podcasts for me is that i actually have a really hard time listening to them and have tried to get into at least 20 if not double that over the past few years but have never been able to get through more than a few episodes and that’s usually after forcing myself. this is true for all except one podcast. because i have only ever been able to listen to and enjoy that single podcast, i listen to it on repeat and have been since 2020. i have been informed recently that this is not something that happens with other people

[softgrungeprophet]

character-building

[aria0fgold]

Went for a lil sing along marathon with random songs just to keep myself from falling asleep cuz am waiting for my phone to fully charge otherwise it'd end up overcharging and now my throat does not like me (it was fun though!)

[motherforthefamicom]

played some more mother 1 i died to the magicant dragon like seven times in a row . awesome

[hagravenholm]

You know what that last post just made me realize? I fucking hate Sundays

[zorobff]

how to disappear. (opla!zoro x fem!reader)

synopsis: joining luffy’s crew made you believe that you’d finally escaped your former pirate crew and nightmare of a captain for good. that is, until a certain butler starts looking a little too familiar. good thing zoro’s keeping a close eye on you.

warnings: opla spoilers (ep 3), some direct dialogue from opla, mentions of verbal/physical abuse, kuro is just a weirdo tbh, reader is called a bitch, protective zoro, for the sake of the story sham and buchie joined the black cat pirates after reader left

word count: 4.7k

“this guy is full of shit.”

you knock your shoulder into zoro’s wider one. “be nice. and so what if he is?” 

zoro gives you a pointed glare. “then we should turn around and look for someone who can actually help us find a ship.” 

“all business, as per usual,” you reply, with a purposefully dramatic sigh. “why can’t you have a little fun?” 

“what about this is supposed to be fun?” zoro spits out the word like it’s poisonous. “this is the blandest village i’ve ever seen.”

you scoff. “now you’re the one that’s full of shit. nothing’s ever bland with us and you know it.” 

the us in question was your newly formed pirate crew… if you and luffy could even be considered that. having left the ship you’d been on a few years ago, you were in search of a new crew. luffy was persistent and charming — when you’d crossed paths in shells town, it took little to no time for him to convince you to join his hunt for the one piece. zoro and nami, on the other hand, had yet to follow in your footsteps. 

“well, considering that we’ve only been traveling together for a day and a half and i’ve already escaped a marine base, defeated a marine captain, and fought a clown with devil fruit powers… i’d actually have to agree.” 

you can’t help but giggle at his sarcastic delivery. “be grateful, zoro. not many pirate crews are this fun to be on, trust me. oh wait, that’s right, you still haven’t officially joined—”

“tell me about your old pirate crew,” interjects zoro, your comment having piqued his interest. 

you notice that the playful atmosphere dissipates. “god, where do i even start?” 

zoro answers that for you. “why did you leave?”

“starting with the hard hitting questions, huh?” you joke, mostly to stall. you clear your throat before you answer. “well, it was different. nothing like what luffy has going on. he actually cares about his crew… and even those who aren’t technically on it.” 

at that, a smile tugs at the corner of zoro’s lips. even you crack a small grin. although as you continue speaking, it fades. 

“on my old crew, we were dispensable. anytime something went wrong, our own captain would threaten to kill us. it was… scary, to be completely honest. there were so many times when i thought i’d die with that filthy crew. and i never wanted that. so as soon as we docked at shells town, i left.”  

zoro’s jaw clenches as imagines the things you’d seen and been subjected to. “this old captain of yours sounds like a real—”

“he was a nightmare,” you tell him. “he didn’t care that i was the only woman on board, he treated me just as horribly, if not worse.” 

zoro stops so suddenly that it takes you a second to realize he’s not walking alongside you.

“what do you mean by that.” the way zoro phrases the inquiry doesn’t even make it sound like a question. more like a demand. his narrowed eyes are fixed solely on you. holding his gaze feels… intense. 

you can’t help but glance away as you answer him. “he was just a bit of a creep.”

before zoro has the chance to try and extract more information out of you, a familiar voice calls both your names. you’re not really sure when you and zoro had fallen behind but from where you currently stand, the rest of your group looks miniature. or perhaps it’s just the massive size of the mansion behind them that makes luffy, nami, and usopp look pocket-sized in comparison. 

“why’d you stop walking?!” your captain shouts, hands pressed on each side of his mouth to amplify his voice. “get over here, we’re about to go in through the top secret entrance!” 

you vaguely make out usopp gesturing for luffy to keep his voice down. you’re sure that would warrant another comment from zoro about his reliability but he’s too busy staring at you with that expectant look in his eyes. 

“we better catch up,” you tell him, heading in the direction of the deluxe home. 

he allows you to dodge the subject and sighs, walking in long strides to catch up to you.  

“i’ve never seen a house this big before,” luffy admits, admiring the mansion along with the wellkept greenery surrounding it. 

“awesome, right?” usopp gloats, walking around like he owned the place. “kaya’s given me an open invitation to drop by anytime i want.” 

“wow.” you’re not sure if luffy was just going along with usopp’s act or if he really believed him. knowing the devil fruit user, it was more than likely the latter. “all this for just one person?”

“well, she lives here with her butler and a few other staff,” usopp replies, leaning against the stone well that sat in the middle of the lawn.

“money really shows you who people truly are,” nami mutters, eyes scanning the property. “most people only care about themselves and what’s theirs.”

zoro is quick to throw the insult back at her. “sounds like someone i know.”

you roll your eyes at his comment, though you make no effort to disagree with him. nami was a little on the materialistic side. 

“and a small staff makes for easy pickings,” she continues, proving your point.

“we just got here and you’re already planning on robbing the place blind?” you ask though you already know the answer.

“at least a little blurry,” she smirks, following behind luffy and usopp who walk toward the entrance. 

you and zoro share a look. one that says disappointed but not surprised. 

going under a shrub shaped as an arch, you’re met with a beautiful pond. you admire the pink lilies that float at the top and the bushes that were intricately trimmed into the shape of various animals. even if the people that lived here were filthy rich, at least they had good decorative taste. 

“so if you have an invitation, why are we going around the back way?” luffy ponders.

usopp’s answer is nonchalant. “oh, i never use the front entrance. like i said, this is the vip entrance reserved for special guests.”

zoro scoffs. “this guy’s definitely–”

“don’t start,” you groan, cutting him off. 

abruptly, usopp freezes and spins around, attempting to usher your crew back. “you know what, there’s actually a more exclusive entrance this way–”

the sharp swoosh of a knife cutting through the air and burying itself in the ground between usopp’s feet cuts him off. from the direction the kitchen utensil was thrown stands a heavyset gentleman with his face wrinkled in anger. his demanding voice booms through the garden, “the hell are you doing here, usopp?” 

the dark-skinned boy fumbles over his word. “buchi, buddy, uh, kaya’s expecting me.”

“another one of your lies,” the man – seemingly named buchi – seethes, grabbing him by the collar. “you ain’t welcome here and you know it.”

“i know nothing of the sort,” usopp retorts, keeping his cool even when he was practically being lifted off the ground by his shirt. “i’m here to give kaya an extra special gift.”

before buchi can get another word out, a feminine voice calls out for your companion. coming down the steps is a frail looking girl in a pink dress. on her arm is a man dressed in a crisp suit, presumably the butler usopp had mentioned earlier. though, from where you stand you can’t see either of their faces too clearly. 

“what a wonderful surprise,” she exclaims, breathlessly. 

“kaya!” usopp exclaims, returning her enthusiasm. buchi has no choice but to let him go, begrudgingly. usopp makes sure to shoot him a smug look before walking towards the young girl. “happy birthday.” 

the butler clears his throat, not afraid to intrude on their special moment. “usopp, we’ve discussed this before. you mustn’t show up unannounced.” 

“nonsense, klahadore.” kaya smiles warmly. “have you come to tell me another story? i do love hearing about your adventures.” 

“i’ll do you one better,” usopp smirks with such confidence that even you’re left wondering what kind of surprise he has up his sleeve. “i brought some of my crew!” he gestures back towards the four of you, proudly. 

your excitement vanishes. “oh. the surprise is… us.”

“well, that’s boring,” luffy agrees, just as disappointed as you are. 

kaya, on the other hand, is none the wiser. “it’s so nice to meet you. you must all stay for dinner.” 

klahadore lowers his voice. “miss kaya, it is a bit last minute. i’m afraid the kitchen hasn’t prepared for any extra guests.”

“please,” begs kaya, softly. “it’s my birthday. can’t be too much trouble can it?” 

giving in, klahadore purses his lips. “anything for you, miss kaya.” 

luffy claps his hands together. “alright! when do we eat?” 

“you don’t. not dressed like that, at least.” the butler directs himself to a staff member with teal colored hair. “sham, kindly show usopp and his friends to the guest suites. you will bathe and change before dinner.”

she follows his orders and leads the way. luffy, usopp, nami, and zoro trail behind her and you go to do the same. however, all it takes is a quick glance to stop you dead in your tracks. usually, you weren’t one to stare but klahadore’s face. that stare. so dark and depraved. 

“yes, miss?” he asks, holding your gaze. “can i help you?” 

“n-no, i…” your throat goes dry as you attempt to recover smoothly. “i just wanted to, um, thank you for being so hospitable.” 

his lips curve upwards into a sinister grin. “the pleasure’s all mine.” as if to confirm your worst fear, klahadore uses his palm to readjust his glasses. his beady eyes gauge your reaction closely.

the familiar gesture sends chills down your spine. appearance-wise, he had changed drastically but his aura was still just as menacing as you remember it. he was still the corrupt pirate captain you used to serve under. you feel like a weak and helpless subordinate all over again.

“klahadore!” giggles kaya. “you’re smiling! that’s certainly a rarity.”

he hums. “i’ve simply come to the realization that having guests once in a while can truly be a delight.”

his sickeningly sweet tone makes your stomach turn. just the fact that you were standing in front of him – captain kuro – again after all these years was nauseating in itself. last you’d heard he had died at the hands of captain morgan. how was this even possible? then again, he wasn’t dubbed kuro of a hundred plans for no reason. he always had a trick or two up his sleeve. you assumed this was no different. 

“hey, you comin’?”

you turn around to see zoro waiting for you. he meets your gaze for a moment. the softness of his eyes is a stark contrast to kuro’s. it’s a breath of fresh air. he then shifts his attention to your former captain and you swear his eyes darken. 

“yeah, sorry,” you mumble, trying not to look shaken as you walk up the steps. 

zoro follows behind you, this time closer than before.

“why would anybody even need this many clothes?”

“it’s not about need with these people, luffy. it’s about want,” nami spits, thumbing through the various fabrics on the wall. 

“at least she’s rich and nice,” luffy replies, innocently.

nami rolls her eyes. “yeah, letting us stay for dinner must be her idea of charity work.” 

“what are we even supposed to wear?” luffy continues, uninterested in nami’s criticism of the rich. 

“anything you want. when are you ever going to get the opportunity to wear things this nice?” 

you step out from behind the changing board where you’d swapped out your old tee and cargo skirt for an elegant satin dress. it was a stunning shade of olive green and frilly lace decorated the edges. not to mention, it hugged your curves in all the right ways.

nami’s eyes widen. “see, she’s got the right idea. you look amazing.” 

you smile, bashfully. “honestly, i feel amazing.”

“you look the same to me,” your captain shrugs.

nami shoots him a death glare but you intervene before she can scold him.

“way to keep me humble, luffy.”

“no problem!” 

at that exact moment, a freshly showered zoro arrives donning a silk robe. he eyes the multitude of garments that cover every inch of the room, not particularly impressed. 

“there you are. don’t you think she looks nice?” nami asks him, gesturing towards you. she doesn’t notice how you shrink under zoro’s gaze. neither does he, as his eyes take their time raking over you, from top to bottom.

he hums. “suits you.” with that, he sets off towards a chair in the corner of the room.  

“seriously?” sighs nami, exasperated. “are you two physically unable to give compliments or something?” 

“hey, doesn’t that butler seem familiar to you guys?” zoro asks, promptly ignoring nami’s complaint. 

his question causes your breath to hitch. you’d pushed the kuro problem to the back of your mind while you were in search of a suitable dinner outfit. you figured that as long as your crew was by your side, he wouldn’t dare try anything. and even if he did… well, you’d seen what had happened to axe-hand morgan and buggy. 

“yeah, i think he was at the last dinner party i attended,” nami replies sarcastically, taking a handful of dresses behind the changing board. 

as he takes a seat, zoro grumbles, “i swear i’ve seen him before.” 

“where?” you can’t help but ask, fiddling with the lace on the neckline of your dress. 

“so far, i’ve got two suspicions. a wanted poster or funky bar on mirrorball island. you ever been?”

you know zoro’s teasing you, judging by the grin on his face. after all, funky bar was known to get insanely rowdy; never would he imagine finding someone as gentle as you there. but what he didn’t know is that it happened to be one of kuro’s favorite bars. per his request, you and the rest of the black cat pirates frequented it often, so he was more than likely right about having seen kuro there. he’d probably even seen you in passing, once or twice. thankfully, he doesn’t seem to have any recollection of that.

the thought of zoro knowing about your past forms a knot in the pit of your stomach. would he think less of you for having joined such a ruthless crew at one point in your life? what if it put a strain on the friendship you’d worked so hard to form? 

“i’ve, uh, heard of it,” you decide to reply, pushing down your worries for the time being. 

he tilts his head slightly, thinking out loud. “then again, i have seen a lot of wanted posters and bars in my time as a pirate hunter.”

you feel a grin creep onto your face. “probably more bars than posters, huh?”

zoro mirrors your smile. “shut up.”

by the time dinner rolls around, the entire crew is doing what they do best. 

luffy is stuffing his face, nami is attempting to swindle one of the staff, zoro is hanging by the drinks, and you’re hanging by zoro. 

“hey zoro, you gotta try this!” luffy calls through a mouthful of food.

“i’ve got all i need right here,” he mutters, taking a swig out of his champagne flute. 

“you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you choke down something that isn’t alcohol,” you comment, watching the way he downs the glass in one go. 

dryly, he replies, “that’s because i haven’t.”

“very on brand.”

“ladies and gentlemen,” calls out that voice from the top of the stairs. “may i present… miss kaya.”

arm in arm, kuro and kaya walk down the steps, all eyes on the birthday girl and her stunning gown. well, except you. your eyes never leave the so-called butler by her side. your jaw clenches when he has the audacity to meet your gaze and hold it. shameless bastard. 

once they reach the bottom, merry leads kaya to the guests while kuro takes his post at the bottom of the stairs… right next to the drink table. before you can think about steering yourself and zoro away, kuro speaks.

“forgive me if i am speaking out of line, madam, but i must inform you. you look positively radiant,” he purrs, soaking in your appearance. he looks ready to pounce.

you can’t stop your eyes from rolling. good to know he’s the same pervert he used to be.

looking between you both and sensing your discomfort, zoro steps in. “and you look familiar.” 

kuro’s head stiffly turns to face him, eyes peeling away from you. “highly doubtful, sir.” 

“funky bar? mirror ball island?” 

“funky bar?” kuro repeats, disgusted. “well, i can assure you i’ve never patronized that type of establishment.” 

while it was amusing to see your highly esteemed former captain lie through his teeth, the tension between him and zoro was unbearable. 

“well then.” zoro continues with his little interrogation. “ever been on a wanted poster?”

you cringe at his bluntness. sometimes it seemed like he had less of a filter than luffy.

kuro puts on a scandalized face at the question. “sir! such an accusation is highly offensive.” tugging on his collar, he goes to remove himself from zoro’s probing. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to help prepare the dinner table.” 

he leaves, en route to the dining room. zoro’s eyes follow his figure until he disappears, squinting as he racks his brain for any further recollection of this suspicious butler. 

you sigh. if zoro was going to continue being so relentless, you were sure the night would end in bloodshed and uncovered secrets. 

“keep this coming,” zoro demands, handing the empty wine bottle to sham. she takes it with a glare. 

“would it kill you to say please?” you ask, slicing the slab of fish on your plate into smaller pieces.

“the service here is shitty. why should i have to be polite?” 

you scowl. “remind me to never have dinner with you again.”

zoro turns to you with that cocky grin of his. “what if i asked nicely?” 

his quip makes your heart flutter but you manage to keep your composure. “you can try your luck.” 

before he can respond, usopp speaks up. “luffy, isn’t there something that you wanted to talk to kaya about?” 

luffy gesticulates enthusiastically with his fork. “oh, yes! usopp told me that you own the whole shipyard.” 

“well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard and merry’s been running the business since they… passed. but all that’s about to change. tonight, at midnight, i will become the sole owner.” she smiles somberly. 

“well, that’s great,” luffy says, raising his drink at her. “because we want to buy a ship from you.” 

“ah, i see. usopp mentioned that you’re sailors.” 

“nope, not sailors. we’re pirates!”

you’re certain at least three people at the table choke on their food, yourself included. 

“this ought to be good,” zoro mumbles behind his glass.

you’re too busy coughing into your napkin to chastise him for finding this entertaining.

“pirates?” kaya repeats, unsure of how to react. 

“yup! we haven’t sailed together for very long but we’ve already defeated an evil clown, raided a marine base, and taken down a captain with an axe! for a hand!” luffy holds up a fist, presumably to impersonate axe-hand morgan.

“sounds a lot like your adventures, usopp,” kaya says, turning to the brunette.

all he can do is laugh dryly. “yeah, that’s… that’s crazy.” 

“and we’re just getting started!” luffy continues, climbing up onto the table.

“someone put me out of my misery,” you mumble, looking down at your plate to ignore the secondhand embarrassment.

a tap on your shoulder answers your plea.

turning around, you find yourself face to face with kuro once again. “madam, a word please?”

“might i ask what for?” zoro cuts in before you can so much as think of a response.

kuro offers him the most forced grin you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing. “i’m afraid that is between the lady and i.”

the swordsman turns to you, scanning your face for any ounce of discomfort. “you okay with that?”

you inhale, figuring it was finally time for you to confront the darkest part of your past. it was silly to assume you would be able to ignore him throughout your entire stay here. besides, you were sure zoro, just like the rest of your crew, would be on standby if kuro got brave enough to try anything. “sure. just… keep an eye out.”

zoro understands completely. truthfully, you didn’t even need to ask – he always looked after you. “got it.”

you push yourself out of your seat and smooth out your dress. you allow kuro to lead you to the doorway – he was smart enough to know that was the farthest you’d let him take you. 

“what do you want, klahadore?” you seethe, folding your arms.

he arches a brow. “why must you call me that? it’s ridiculous.” 

you tilt your head with faux innocence. “oh? is that not your name? must have misheard.”

he gives you an irritated look, dark eyes drilling into you.

“i remember that look,” you mutter, your memory serving you well. “it’s the same one you’d give me before you’d threaten to slice me to bits with your claws.”

kuro has the audacity to chuckle dryly. “but i never did, did i? although there were certainly times times where i should’ve.”

“what you should be is dead,” you hiss bitterly. “when i heard the news, i knew it was too good to be true.”

“you wound me, kitten,” he drawls, reaching up to fix his glasses. 

the condescending nickname makes your skin crawl. it carried so many awful memories of your time spent with the black cat pirates. it reminded you of just how weak kuro viewed you — nothing but a helpless, pitiful kitten in his eyes. typical of the man that abused his authority and treated you with not a single ounce of respect. 

he continues, putting on a sweet tone. “after all these years, stuck waiting hand and foot on that spoiled brat, there’s nothing i’d love more than to hear my favorite crew mate say my real name.”

you snap at him. “i’m no crew mate of yours.”

he sighs, dramatically. “sadly, you’re correct. after all, you did slip off the ship the moment we docked in shells town. locating you on an island crawling with marines proved to be nearly impossible. we had no choice but to leave without you.”

“that’s exactly why i chose to escape there.” 

“and to this day i can’t for the life of me figure out why you would ever do that. why would you want to leave us? leave me?”

you actually laugh right in his face. “is it really that hard to figure out? you were evil. you threatened and harassed me on a daily basis.”

“so your solution was to join that ragtag crew?” he glances at the table. “it’s pathetic, even for you.”

you lean into his face, lowering your voice down. “i’m happier than i ever was on your shitty crew. every day i wake up grateful that i managed to escape you.”

you see that vein on his forehead bulge before he’s gripping you by the chin. “listen here, you little bitch–”

the shiny silver of a sword slides between you and kuro, coming to rest against his neck. his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps anxiously, releasing you. thanks to zoro’s sword, it seemed as if he finally remembered where he was. you were no longer on his ship, he was no longer allowed to treat you like the dirt he walked on. not without someone noticing, that is. 

“why don’t you step away?” zoro offers simply.

that much was a kindness. usually those who found themselves on the end of zoro’s blade(s) weren’t lucky enough to receive a warning. however, the swordsman didn’t wish to cause a scene. at least not when you were right there and everyone was watching with shock from the dinner table.

kuro obliges, stumbling back. he meets kaya’s horrified eyes, feeling ashamed that he allowed his act to slip. surely this would cause some setbacks in his plan. with no excuse for his uncharacteristic behavior, the raven haired man scurries away and up the stairs.

zoro turns and locks eyes with luffy, giving him one singular nod. luffy returns it, jumping out of his seat and going after the butler. quiet murmuring breaks out at the dinner table, everyone surely confused. 

sheathing his sword, zoro directs his attention to you once more. “are you alright?” a calloused hand comes up to grip your chin, much like kuro had. however, this time, the touch is gentle. loving, almost. you welcome it.

“yeah, i’m… fine.” your heart is beating out of your chest and it has everything to do with your close proximity to zoro.

he tilts your face around, inspecting every inch of it. once he finishes, he pulls back. his demeanor goes serious once more. “we need to have a talk.”

you nod. “i know. i’ve been keeping some things from you guys and–”

“just tell me what’s been going on,” he demands. “and don’t overcomplicate it. you can be straightforward with me.”

his sincerity makes you start over, this time far more candidly. “klahadore used to be a pirate. i was part of his crew. he was my… captain.”

the shame in your voice pulls at zoro’s heartstrings. didn’t you know there was no reason to feel guilty with him? “is that it?” 

you open your mouth to speak but come up empty. all you can do is furrow your eyebrows at his unexpectedly dismissive reaction.

“i knew it,” zoro continues, annoyed. “i knew i’d seen him on a wanted poster before. just didn’t have any proof.”

“wait, so you don’t– you really don’t care?” you ask, still avoiding eye contact. “me being a former black cat pirate doesn’t bother you?”

he shrugs. “you said it yourself. ‘former.’ all that matters is that you got the hell out of there. and away from that creep. would he always put his hands on you like that?”

you blink a couple times, sighing. “his temper was really bad so–”

that seemed to be enough for zoro. “i’ll kill the bastard,” he hisses. “wanted to slice him to bits the moment i saw him grab you.” 

though it’s a violent threat, you can’t help but smile. the idea of zoro being so protective that he’d kill a man just for touching you made you blush. pirate love language, you suppose.

“well, i wouldn’t have stopped you,” you tell him, more than ready to see your former captain go.

zoro clicks his tongue. “nah. could’ve stained your new dress with his blood. i never would have been able to forgive myself.”

“so you do have a soft spot,” you tease.

“only for pretty things.”

“do you mean me or the dress?” 

now it’s zoro’s turn to become bashful. though, his lack of response is an answer in itself. you can’t help but giggle. 

a loud bang from upstairs interrupts your moment with the green-haired man. you assume luffy had gotten his hands on kuro… or vice versa. zoro must be thinking the same thing judging by the way he instinctively rests a hand on the handle of his blade.

“you should go up there,” you tell him. “i’ll stay with kaya.”  

he gives you a nod, though he doesn’t make any effort to leave. he stands there like he wants to say something… or do something. before you can think about it too much, you pull him in by the collar and crash your lips onto his. they’re slightly chapped and taste like the wine that’d come from the cellar – it’s pleasant. his large palms come to rest on your lower back; his hold feels tight and secure. 

when you finally allow yourself to pull away, you’re biting back a smile. “kick his ass for me.” 

“will i get more of that if i do?” asks zoro, wetting his lips. they now taste like the cherry lip gloss you’d borrowed from kaya. he takes a step forward, attempting to close the gap between you two once more.

you shrug, pushing him away by the chest. “go help luffy and we’ll see.”

you both know that means yes.

[welty4ng]

TEAR MY WORLD APART!

call transcript; “adapting is never easy. jiaoqiu supposes he only tolerates it because you’re with him”

cw; spoilers for the current quest !!! f!reader, NSFW (mdni) !! hurt/comfort, fingering (soft sex tbh), not proofread, ugh jiaoqiu i love you so much, fic below the cut, 4.7k words

When Jiaoqiu first returns home, there’s a heavy weight in his chest.

It felt horribly uncomfortable, having Moze walk him all the way from the docks to his house. It felt even worse to have his companion fish his keys from his pockets.

In his mind’s eye, he knows where everything is. He knows where you keep your plants and how to avoid running into them; still, he tips one over, the crunch of dirt beneath his feet ringing sickeningly in his ears. He knows where every corner of his house is; yet, he hits his shoulder when he rounds a corner a little too soon.

Shamefully, it takes him longer than he’d like to find someplace to sit. He’d never thought it to be so humiliating, to realize he spent so many years seeing the layout to his own home without memorizing it.

He’s unsure for how long he sits, the silence deafening and the darkness blinding. There’s a gnawing, ever-growing pit in his stomach at the realization that this might very well be the rest of his life. A shiver runs down his spine. He doesn’t think he’ll enjoy having his senses heightened any more than they already were.

Jiaoqiu jolts when he hears the front door open, his ears perking up. The sound of your footsteps reaches his ears before you call out his name, your voice gentler than he’s ever heard it.

“Hey,” you say, hushed. Jiaoqiu shudders when your hand finds his knee, trying to soothe him. His hands ball into fists on his lap.

“Hey,” he echoes, slightly strained. The weight in his chest grows heavier when you thumb at his knee. It’s horrifying, how he can practically picture the pity on your face — he’d never thought he’d be at the receiving end of it.

“General Feixaio told me what happened,” you whisper. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch when you cup his face and he immediately nestles into your palm. Your thumb is gentle against his skin, caressing his cheek with the utmost of care. “I’m so sorry, love.”

There’s a lump in his throat, a million words on the tip of his tongue — ‘I’m okay. I’ll be fine. It’s nothing serious. I just need to adapt.’

All that he musters is a quiet, shaky, “I want to see you.”

Jiaoqiu wonders if you look as broken as he sounds.

Being molded into a homebody is not unideal, but Jiaoqiu has far too much to do.

He wonders if that’s why Feixiao sent Moze to inform him of the leave of absence he’d been granted.

It should be welcome. It is, to an extent, when guilt doesn’t chip away at his conscience; when he doesn’t feel like he’s a burden—

The clatter of pots makes him jump, his tail puffing up before matting back down. He exhales, low and unsteady as you call out a sheepish, “Sorry.”

Jiaoqiu doesn’t think he can complain. Not when you’ve carved out time from your schedule to look after him — to help him adjust, or whatever bullshit Moze claimed Feixiao had said. So he’ll endure the ringing in his ears when something is just a little too loud, endure the tangy, bitter smell of something burning, and offer a patient smile, followed by a soft, “It’s okay.”

Because he knows you’re trying.

Cooking was never your thing. He’d never let it be, because, why would he ever let you dirty your hands when he could do it instead?

Part of himself feels guilty that you’ve been forced into a myriad of things that fell under his attention. It’s an ever-growing sense of uselessness that weighs on his chest, burrowing deeper with every ‘tap’ of the knife on the cutting board.

He presses his back against the wall, trying to suppress the familiar urge to take over the cooking for you. A knot forms in his throat when he hears you softly hiss, his eyes yearning to open and treat whatever wound you must’ve gotten.

When a soft rush of water reaches his ears, he inches off the wall just enough, taking a step toward the noise. It feels slightly disorienting, trying to guide himself simply through hearing. Still, he tries, awkwardly stumbling in your direction with an outstretched hand.

A shaky exhale leaves his lips when he touches your shoulder, his tail awkwardly flicking to the side when you jolt at the contact.

“Let me help,” he whispers, his fingers instinctively squeezing your shoulder. There’s something so horrid about being able to hear your breaths before you even speak. He loathes how clear he can hear your breath falter as you hesitate.

“Jiaoqiu, you—”

“Please.” He’s tired of feeling useless. He has enough to deal with, now that his eyesight is gone indefinitely. He wants to help — to be of use, even if it’s just a little.

The weight in his stomach sinks deeper when you gingerly clutch his wrist. For a moment, he expects you to drop his hand and lead him back to the spot on the wall he’s claimed as his own. Instead, you bring his hand up to your face, letting his knuckles brush against your skin.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” you murmur, gentle as you press a kiss to the back of his hand. Jiaoqiu wonders what expression you’re making; wonders if it’s pity or sympathy.

He takes a step closer, his front bumping against yours before his free hand shoots out to hold onto the edge of the counter for balance. “Let me do something, at least,” he pleads, a vague hint of desperation lacing his words.

Your breaths fan his face, tickling his skin in a way that has his tail swaying.

“Please,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

There’s a brief moment of hesitance before you ask, “What do you want to do?”

Jiaoqiu’s heart hammers in his chest, a ticklish sort of hope flooding his being. His hand trembles against your face, softly squeezing your own when you grasp it.

“Anything,” he breathes out. “It doesn’t have to be cooking or cleaning or — just let me do anything.”

When your grip on his hand falters, he grasps it tighter, resting them on your cheek. The smell of something burnt fills his senses, but he can’t find it in himself to care; not when he can feel the faint warmth of your skin. “I want to be of use to you.”

His ears twitch when you sigh, his hand trembling lightly against your face. He can imagine the expression you’re making — pursed lips and furrowed brows, deep in thought. Still, he yearns to see it.

“You can help me stir the pot,” you offer, a hint of hesitance to your voice.

The weight in his chest lightens just a little, his fingers tightening around your own in a light squeeze. “Alright.”

It’s a shred of normalcy, he supposes; even if he’s just swirling a ladle. For a moment, it reminds him of a simpler time, back when he was younger and still learning to fend for himself. The soft ‘tap’ of the knife against the cutting board fills his ears, accompanied by your faint humming.

Will you let him keep helping you? Jiaoqiu can’t help but wonder. Would you let him stop being a burden? Do you even think of him as a burden? He hopes — prays — you don’t. He hopes you let him stay by your side, even if all he can do is rot.

It’s all he wants.

So, when you lead him to your dining table, trying to distract him from the scent of burnt meat, he’ll entertain you. He’ll keep his complaints to himself, even if the soup is far too salty; the noodles are a little too undercooked; and the cubed beef is a bit too charred.

You’re both trying, he reminds himself. Perhaps that’s why he can’t find it in himself to care much when he can hear the ‘snap’ of a noodle between his molars. There’s a slight tingle in his tongue by the time he’s done eating.

Still, Jiaoqiu doesn’t complain. Instead, he smiles, softening when your hand grasps his own beneath the table, squeezing twice in a comforting gesture.

“Thank you,” he whispers, hushed. When your breath hitches, a lump forms in his chest. Quickly, he adds, “For everything.”

For a moment, he supposes the only good thing about being blind is that he doesn’t have to see you cry. Though, he supposes it’s worse, hearing you hold back from it — hearing you struggle to remain composed.

When he opens his arms, you rush into him, leaving your chair behind and opting to perch in his lap — just like you’d always done. He holds you closer, instinctively; though, he rubs at your back with hesitance, almost trying to map out the length of your back.

He shudders when you wet the side of his neck. It feels more present, now that his world is shrouded in pitch black. Your cries sound louder, even when quiet and muffled by his skin.

“I’m sorry.” Jiaoqiu’s unsure if the apology is his or yours, the weight growing tenfold in his chest and ringing in his ears.

He can’t tell if the sobs are still yours, either.

Jiaoqiu learns to rise when you do. His routine morphs into your own, despite your insistence that he rest longer.

Staying in bed doesn’t feel the same without you, he’d argued. You were quick to relent after that.

His feet drag on the floor behind yours, his grip tight around the back of your nightshirt. There’s a dull ache in his head. He bumps into you when you stop, a quick apology tumbling from his lips before he can stop it.

When the sound of rushing water reaches his ears, they twitch, recognizing the familiarity. His hands perch on the edge of the counter, letting go of your clothes. It never takes long for him to hear the soft rustle of fabric falling onto the floor. It never takes long for him to fumble with his buttons, either, before you come to his aid.

“Will you help me wash my hair again?” he asks, quiet as you ease the fabric off his shoulders.

“If you want me to,” you reply, gentle as you help him out of his pants. When your fingers brush against his lower abdomen, he shivers, his tail puffing up as he sucks in a sharp inhale.

Jiaoqiu’s hand leaves the counter, moving to cup your cheek in a practiced (albeit clumsy) movement. Part of himself still feels like a fumbling fool when you move his hand just a little lower, correcting the placement. Still, you never mention it.

A voice in the back of his head tells him he should reject your offer for help — tells him he’s been more than enough of a burden by making you spend more time ensuring he’s clean than you do yourself. Then, a gentler, kinder voice reminds him you’d expressed your satisfaction at being able to aid him. Pride never stands a chance, when it comes to your delight; he realized this soon after meeting you.

So, he lets his finger brush against the apple of your cheek, his voice softening as he says, “I do.”

It’s become almost instinctive, following you. There’s always a certain gentleness with which you hold his hands, guiding him forward as you step into the shower. He hears the quiet scuff of a stool (your insistence, not his) being dragged across the tiles. Your hands remain gentle as you guide him to sit.

“Tell me if I scrub too hard, okay?” The statement is almost unnecessary, truly. You’ve never once treated him with something other than overwhelming delicateness — like he’s made of porcelain. Jiaoqiu considered himself tough, before losing his eyesight. He thinks that shell was stripped from him alongside his vision. He wonders if you know it, too — wonders if that’s why you touch him like he’s seconds away from breaking beneath your touch.

Still, all he says is, “Okay.” Then, after a moment, “Thank you.”

A lump forms in his throat at the beat of silence, his heart hammering in his chest. Aeons, he wants to see your expression — he needs it so desperately. It’s become hard to tell whether he says the right thing or not. Sometimes, he wonders if he oversteps. There are a million words at the tip of his tongue, all of them longing to spill out.

Something soft presses against his forehead, gentle and so, so soft. Two hands cup his jaw, holding him in place before drawing him in. His arms wrap around your middle almost instinctively, his face burrowing into your chest.

“I want to see you,” he whispers, his words muffled by your skin.

Your lips press against the top of his head, tender. Jiaoqiu melts when you cup the back of his head, holding him in place. He wonders if you realize how soothing your heartbeat is to him, currently. Your fingers weave through peachy strands, washing out the shampoo suds from his hair.

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely audible. “We’ll figure it out, love.”

A soft noise rumbles in the back of his throat, his ears twitching and tickling your skin. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head one last time.

For a moment, something akin to hope blossoms in his chest. It’s the first time he’s felt it, since losing his vision, Jiaoqiu notes.

Normal still feels out of place, though not as much anymore. It’s become a faint, lingering feeling in the back of his mind.

There’s still a vague sense of discomfort at being surrounded by darkness constantly. Jiaoqiu supposes it’s only through the habit of touching that he reminds himself he’s not alone.

He’s only grateful you indulge him, even if it must be a bother to have him hovering and pestering just to stick to you.

The streets of the Yaoqing — have they ever been this noisy? Jiaoqiu can’t tell. It’s uncomfortable, how loudly everything rings in his ears. He thinks he would rather trade the boisterous noise for the bright, vivid colors he used to complain about.

“We’ll head home soon,” you reassure, squeezing his hand as tight as you can. For a moment, he wonders if his distress is palpable (he concludes that, for you, it must be).

“You shouldn’t rush,” he replies, his words trailing off into a quick apology when someone bumps into his shoulder. His hand squeezes yours — the mere thought of separating from you makes his heartbeat spike in anxiety. Jiaoqiu softly clears his throat, quickly adding, “I’m fine, really.”

Neither of you seem to believe it, though you don’t call him out on the lie. Instead, you slow your pace even more to loop your arm with his.

“I was thinking,” you start, pulling him just a little closer to you as you walk, “We could get the ingredients for those noodles you like.”

Jiaoqiu hums, trying to ignore the way the corners of his lips curl up. “That would be nice,” he says, trying to keep his steps matched to yours.

“You could help me make them,” you offer, gently tugging him closer before someone brushes against his arm.

His steps falter for a moment. When he takes a second too long to reply, you rush to add, “Only if you want to.”

A lump forms in his throat, agreement sitting on the tip of his tongue. All he does is exhale. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering loud in his ears. You’re looking at him — he doesn’t need his vision to tell. A hushed, barely audible whisper leaves his lips when you call his name.

“Is it still too soon?” you ask, a hint of worry in your voice. Your hold on him tightens just a little. “I-I figured, maybe it had been long enough to try and ease you back into things you used to do. We can just pretend I didn’t say any—”

“I want to,” Jiaoqiu says, his voice wavering. He isn’t sure when his breath picked up, but he can feel his chest heaving. His tail lightly sways when you place your hand above his own, thumbing at his knuckles.

“Okay.” Your voice feels as soft as your touch. It tickles his nerves, sending a flutter through the pit of his stomach and down to his core.

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours (a jolt of satisfaction in his chest at the lack of clumsiness). His ears twitch when the pad of your thumb lightly presses into his knuckle. 

“Okay,” he echoes, trying to match your tone. Jiaoqiu softens, gently rubbing his forehead against your own.

Warmth blooms in his chest when you whisper. The market’s ruckus feels like white noise as your words ring in his ears. Like instinct, his lips part before replying in earnest. “I love you, too.”

He wonders if it’s your face that’s burning up, or if it’s his.

It pains him a little, just how long it’s taken him to ask this of you.

Jiaoqiu feels you shift beneath him, adjusting your position before wrapping your legs around his waist again. He softly exhales, tracing the slope of your cheek with the utmost of care. His heart hammers away in his chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Don’t move,” he whispers, breathless as he pokes at the fat of your cheek. When you sigh, he lets himself cup your face, the pad of his thumb lightly pressing into the hollow beneath your eye.

“How much longer are you going to do this for?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice. Jiaoqiu softens, his tail swaying when you lean into his touch.

“Until I’m sure I’ve memorized everything.”

“I thought you already knew my face by heart?” you reply. The corners of his lips curl up into a smile when he hears yours. He gently pinches your cheek, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips.

“I do,” he says, loud enough so it’s meant for your ears only. “I just want to make sure I know it, deep in my soul.”

A soft hum leaves his lips when you squeeze his waist. His hand moves, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear.

“How smooth,” you mumble, brushing a few peachy strands away from his face.

“I want to make sure it’s all like I remember,” he murmurs, complying when you pull him up with your legs. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch when his nose bumps against yours, a breathless chuckle slipping past his lips.

His hand trails down, his thumb brushing your lower lip. When you gently kiss the digit, his breath hitches. He cups your jaw, trying to find an angle. You simply follow his lead, letting him lead.

He thumbs at the corner of your lips, your breath fanning against his skin. His mouth presses against yours in the softest — faintest — of kisses. When you sigh, he lets himself mold against you. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, his tail swaying when you grant him access.

There’s a hint of desperation behind his actions. Jiaoqiu wonders if you can tell, by the way his tongue licks at your mouth — almost like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste.

He barely gives you any reprieve, breaking the kiss to catch the slightest of breaths before he’s attached to your lips once more. When his name leaves your lips between kisses, heat pools in his stomach. It’s a feeling he’d thought dormant since he’d lost his sight.

Jiaoqiu doesn’t think he’d mind its resurgence — not after the way you part with a whined gasp, struggling to catch your breath. His lips press against the corner of your mouth, then lower, until he’s kissing a trail down to the spot beneath your jaw.

When you struggle to hold back a moan, heat shoots through his veins. Your hands find the back of his head, your fingers tangling in peachy strands. He complies when you help him up, cupping his face before capturing his lips with your own.

For a moment, Jiaoqiu wonders if you taste sweeter than he remembers.

“Guide me.”

“Hm?”

A soft, huffed chuckle escapes Jiaoqiu’s lips. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb applying a delicate pressure beneath your eye. He feels you shift on the bed, your legs tangling with his own.

“Guide me,” he repeats, his ears twitching when you yawn. A gentle noise rumbles in his chest, his body pressing closer to yours and his hand moving lower to let his thumb press against the corner of your mouth. Then, he leans down, his lips replacing the digit.

Heat pools in his stomach at the sigh you let out. His tail lightly sways, the ends puffing out when he nips at your lower lip. “You’ve been patient for long enough,” he murmurs, gently ghosting a kiss over your lips.

“Jiaoqiu—”

“No excuses,” he says, “Please.”

After a light kiss, he adds, “Let me do this for you.”

For a moment, he wonders if it’s your heartbeat he hears, instead of his own. He lets his hand leave your face to rest on the underside of your breast, relishing how your breaths stutter.

“You’ve done more than enough for me,” Jiaoqiu reasons, his voice tender as he moves his face closer to the crook of your neck. “I ought to express my gratitude,” he whispers, noting how you shudder as his breath tickles your skin. He presses his lips against the underside of your jaw — right at the spot he knows makes your breath hitch and your thighs clench. “Shouldn’t I?”

“I didn’t do anything with the intention of getting something in return,” you say. He catches on to the quiver to your tone when his ears twitch. His teeth graze your jaw, soft and experimental as he thumbs at the lower part of your breast.

“Isn’t that reason enough to accept my gratitude with open arms, then?”

You shudder, your hand moving to perch on his shoulder when he trails kisses down to your collarbone. “We both know what your gratitude entails, Jiaoqiu.”

He softly clicks his tongue, letting his canines graze against your skin. The hand on your chest inches upward, moving until his thumb reaches your pert nipple. “Even more reason for you to accept, hm?”

His touch softens when you sigh.

“Isn’t it a little too soon—?”

“I think I should be the one to decide that,” Jiaoqiu mumbles. He presses a soft kiss to your collarbone. 

There’s a slight hesitance to your actions — how you seem to mull over his words. His tail sways, lightly rubbing against the bedsheets as your fingers run through his locks.

“Still, I—” your breath catches, your words interrupted by a wanton whine when delicately rolls your nipple between his fingers. 

Heat shoots through his nerves, fueling the fire in his stomach as he pictures your expression — your face all scrunched up, but your lips parted as you pant. Jiaoqiu slows the barrage of kisses on your skin, softy exhaling.

He wants to see it, so, so desperately.

He wants to feel and touch and see. His ears twitch when you sigh his name, breathless. A soft growl rumbles in his chest in response before he presses an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone.

“Let me take care of you,” he quietly pleads. “You shouldn’t have to suppress your own needs for my own.”

“I’m not—”

Jiaoqiu nips at your collarbone to cut off your words, his tongue gently soothing the spot. “Don’t lie to me,” he murmurs, his words slightly muffled by your skin. “Not when I hear clearer than I ever could.”

Your grip on his hair falters, your breath hitching. He wonders what expression you wear — are you flustered or taken aback? Or is it something entirely different? 

“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t touch you like I used to,” he breathes out, gently rolling your nipple between his fingers. You tug on his hair, your breaths uneven. His lips trail kisses along the expanse of your collarbone. “You just need to guide me.”

His fingers leave your nipple, drawing a soft whine from your lips as he trails them down to your hip.

“It’s about time you replace your fingers with my own, after all,” he rasps, kissing a path back up to your jaw, “Isn’t it?”

His ears twitch when a strained whimper slips past your lips. He nips at your skin before pressing a feather-light kiss on the spot. Heat floods the pit of his stomach when you nod against his head, your hand resting atop the one on your hip.

“You’ve been more than patient, love,” Jiaoqiu whispers, his tail twitching against the sheets as you help his hand down between your thighs. He shudders an exhale, his fingers inquisitive as they search for your clit. His breaths become heavy, fanning against your jaw in a way so ticklish that your thighs instinctively press together.

A choked whine leaves your lips, your fingers curling in his hair. “‘s n-nothing,” you murmur, your voice trembling.

He gently clicks his tongue, his thumb pressing against you once he finds your bud. “It’s not ‘nothing,’” he replies, rubbing his nose along your jaw as he begins to circle your clit. “It’s never easy to care for a patient.”

You mewl, lightly jolting when his index finger prods around in search of your entrance. “W-wait,” you stammer, your hand moving to aid his own. His tail thumps faintly against the bed when his fingertips ghost above your folds.

“Here we go,” he whispers, unable to keep the elation from his voice. For a moment, he wonders if you’ve realized the selfish intentions behind his idea to thank you.

Though, he’s sure that even if you have, you probably don’t mind. Jiaoqiu knows how tired you must be from fingering yourself in his stead. Your fingers were never as good as his at bringing you pleasure, after all.

The corners of his lips curl up into a small smirk, his finger pumping in and out of you with practiced ease. “That’s nice, isn’t it, love?” he asks, his voice a soft coo.

“M-mhm,” you shakily hum, slowly rocking your hips against his digit to match his pace.

“Your sweet cunt just needed my fingers, didn’t it?”

He can’t hold back the purr in the back of his throat when you nod, your fingers fisting his peachy strands when he pushes a second finger into your folds.

“N-needed them s-so bad—!” you cry, your voice cracking. Your free hand grasps at his forearm, your breath quick and uneven pants. “‘s never the same when t-they’re mine…”

Jiaoqiu gently shushes you, peppering kisses against the underside of your jaw. “I know, love,” he coos, his voice full of sympathy. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

You moan, your breath hitching as your walls flutter around his fingers. When they curl, you cry, your hips desperately rocking against his hand. “J-Jiaoqiu—”

“Close already?” he asks, though he fails to hide the smile from his voice. You huff and he chuckles, a sense of satisfaction settling in his gut. How long has it been since he’s felt that — felt anything other than a weight in his chest?

Jiaoqiu can’t be bothered to wonder. Not when your cunt spasms around his fingers, your broken cries and moans rising in volume the more he curls his digits against the spongy spot in your folds.

“That’s it, love,” he breathes out, his voice a heavy rasp. “Let go for me.”

When you cry, he can only picture the expression on your face — can only imagine you look just like you’ve always done when you cum. His chest aches for just a moment, then lightens when you mewl his name.

“T-thank you,” you whisper, your words slightly slurred. Jiaoqiu softens when you kiss the top of his head. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” he replies, hushed. He nuzzles into you, slowly pulling his fingers out of your cunt. His chest rises and falls, weightless for the first time in weeks. “For everything.”

[sturnsmadl]

bf!matt headcannons!

warnings!- swearing, angst (light ig), mostly fluff, some smut, not proof read, lover boy matt tbh, cuddling, kissing, idk what else :).

bf!matt who loves holding hands.

bf!matt who is possessive at parties.

"who's that?"

"some drunk guy. thought i was his girl."

"right.."

kisses you

bf!matt who refuses to let you do anything.

"the laundry.."

"nuh uh. move."

bf!matt who ties your shoelaces for you.

"i can do it matt."

"so can i."

bf!matt who keeps his hands warm in your jeans back pocket.

bf!matt who loves physical touch.

bf!matt who always drags you on late night walks during fall.

"we went last nightt!!"

"babe. fall doesn't last forever."

bf!matt who wipe your tears and hugs you when your upset.

"shh..your okay.."

bf!matt who adores carrying you.

"matt i can walk."

"i knowww. but carrying you is fun."

bf!matt who gets you a cat.

"its for you!"

"is it..?"

"i mean...mainly me..but yeah.."

bf!matt who can't stop touching you.

"matt its too hot. let go."

"your too hot."

"fuck off matt."

laughs

bf!matt who isn't massive on PDA but will do small touches.

bf!matt who loves hooking up in his car.

"fuck...yes baby.."

"matt! yes..fuck! yes!"

bf!matt who gets hard from you just sitting in his lap.

bf!matt who is definite that you're the mother of his children.

"we all have that phase matt."

"its not a phase. she's gonna be the mother of my kids chris."

"okay buddy.."

bf!matt who buys you a lot of makeup.

bf!matt who loves giving you hugs and cuddling.

"hi baby."

"oh hi. your back early huh?"

"yep..cuddles?"

bf!matt who made you your own drawer in his room.

bf!matt who always wants to be helping you.

"okay..lets wash this hair. huh?"

"i can wash it.."

"your tired and i love you so im gonna help."

bf!matt who needs to be near you at all times.

"where'd you go?!"

"to the bathroom.."

"jesus..could've told me.."

"wha- yeah..okay. go to sleep."

bf!matt who sits outside the shower door while you shower.

"and i was thinking. what if i just taught you to drive?"

"do we need to talk about this while im showering?"

bf!matt who loves filming sex tapes, especially backshots.

bf!matt who is extremely moody when you're gone.

"matt can you take the-"

"fuck off!"

"jesus..the fuck happened to you.."

bf!matt who hates arguing but you clearly pushed too far.

"probably my other man."

"what...?"

"what? i was kidding..matt.."

bf!matt who gives you silent treatment all day.

"can we talk..matt? come on.."

bf!matt who just cooks for himself he's so mad.

"you made my favourite? oh.."

walks away with a plate for himself

"fucking hell.."

bf!matt who doesn't pay attention to your apologies.

bf!matt who shoves past you, not realising how strong he is.

bf!matt who feels horrible when he accidentally hurts you.

"ow.."

"oh shit.. sorry baby. im so sorry okay? you're okay.."

bf!matt who finds you crying and is immediatley there.

"hey..is it still hurting? im so sorry.."

"no..im pregnant.."

bf!matt who attacks you with a hug when he finds out your pregnant.

"what?! oh my..oh my god! yes yes yes!"

bf!matt who is obsessed with your bump.

"so cute. a whole life's in there.."

"yep..you excited?"

"so."

bf!matt who is extremely overprotective while your pregnant.

"no!!"

"jesus..what?!"

"i can load the dishwasher. you sit."

"you made it sound like i was commiting a crime.."

bf!matt who always texts you while he's filming/streaming.

"can you put your phone down for 2 minutes??"

"yeah one second.."

"you said that 5 minutes ago!"

bf!matt who lets you force him into doing a tiktok dance with him.

bf!matt who freaks out at the birth.

bf!matt who takes the drive home a bit too carefully.

"babe, i know your nervous but we are barely moving."

"im not hurting the baby. im doing 20.."

"thats the problem."

a/n- this is just general bf matt unlike my others but yeah so this may push me back into my break because its absoulutely awful!! but im thinking of doing a halloween theme, doubt ill pull throught though! im so tired :)

taglist! @bellaonthelow @hrtsdollie @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @moonk1ss3d @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @xoxo4chriss @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa @mattstrombolii @stvrlighht @asherrisrandom @amelia-sturniolo3 @lianomer

[murdrdocs]

just read all your imagines and they are so good!! just on here to req anything hobie brown related cos god that man is so fine. maybe like a one-shot where they are fwb cos hobie doest do labels but gets jealous and then asks reader to be his gf and then shows her off to everyone. just like really anything u want to write tbh ✨✨

end of line | h. brown

description. being friends with benefits with your best friend, hobie brown, is fun and all, but you start to realize that maybe firm labels suit you better than whatever this is

includes. slight smut SUGGESTIVE 16+, fem!reader referred to as “girl”, fluff, sweet!hobie, pav gwen and miles mention, rockstar!hobie

a/n: i have no words this was supposed to be uploaded like a week ago but then i went to disney so ... sorry yall. also not edited well bc ... disney. edit: title from the song by daft punk bc tron <3

word count: 1.7k+

things are still in your bedroom. they always are right before he arrives.

you're not a psychic, nor do you have a "spider-sense" (which, with the creepy-sixth sense way hobie described it, you don't want one either), but you like to think that you can tell when he'll come by.

nights when you haven't heard much from him, but the sirens seemed to never stop outside, were usually when your window would creek as it slid up.

you listen out for the sound now as you finish painting your last nail. you'd used the quick dry polish tonight, in hopes that you wouldn't have a repeat of last time, when your fingernails weren't dried but hobie was incredibly impatient and when you were done, you'd realized that your right ring and pinkie fingers were smudged.

the bottle's closed, you'd blown on your nail to ensure it dried, and that's when your window slides open.

there's no point in looking back at him when he tumbles into the room. he starts mumbling complaints as soon as the window's closed, the sound of his shoes unlacing padding his words, something about some common thief who hobie was going to let go but then he went and messed with the lady on the street and her cat.

you'd lost the tail end of his words whenever he started walking closer to you. you sat up straighter, pushed everything out of the way, and waited for him to turn your chair around.

which, when he did, you looked up at him, small smile on your lips as you stared into his deep brown eyes.

"how's your night, hm?" he asked, a courtesy before getting to the real action.

you shrugged, pretending to think. "nothing. just a lot of this."

"no smashing societal standards? picking off misogynists one by one?"

a small laugh in the form of a snort from you. "nah. figured i'd take a day off, you know?" the sarcasm dripping from your words. that's not who you were. you wish you could've been like that, could've been like hobie. but there's one spider-person for a reason.

"oh, yeah, uh-huh..." and hobie trailed off as he leaned in, pointer finger hooking under your chin to pull your lips to his.

it always felt good to kiss hobie.

you'd fantasized about it for weeks before it actually happened. he's your closest friend at the moment, and he occupied the title before this arrangement even existed. and of course you had the worry about ruining your beautiful friendship if you became more, fear that you wouldn't be able to go back and you would subsequently lose probably the best friend you've ever had.

but that was no need to worry. because while you could let hobie pull you up and lead you to your bed, sitting back and pulling you into his lap while he kissed you with a tenderness you know so well, you could also just be friends with him, sitting side by side on the couch and having a movie marathon of horrible biopics without thinking about jumping each other's bones.

there's a balance here that you could only hope would've existed.

and it's never thrown off. not even when he pulls your shirt over your head and his full lips find your nipples and the slightly-faded marks he'd left a few days ago. not even when he switches your position, laying you back and kissing down your torso until he can bury his head between your legs. not even when you whine and cry just a bit, slightly begging for him to pull his suit off so he can fuck into you in a way that only he can.

you try not to think about the equilibrium of your relationship with hobie when your legs hook around his waist and the heels of your feet dig into your lower back. you try to solely focus on the way his cock fills you up perfectly, mostly long with the right amount of girth for your walls, tip reaching deep within you in an almost mind bending way.

but you can't help but think about the way hobie doesn't do labels when he helps you to your bathroom, where he lets the shower heat up while you sit in a shirt he left behind a few days ago when he'd shown up as just hobie brown and not spiderman. you can't help but think about being hobie's girlfriend when his big, veiny hands run along your skin after the shower, smothering you in shea butter as you struggle to hold your eyes open. and you don't bother attempting to fight off the lasting thought of being hobie's while he hums an unknown song to himself with your head on his chest, the deep sound of his voice and the vibration of his chest lulling you to sleep.

you need to be someone's.

the friends with benefits scenario was fun, it worked, it was glorious, but you don't think it's for you. and labels aren't for hobie.

so, you look elsewhere.

you're at hobie's show, standing in the back of the pub with a drink you weren't interested in, with some guy you really weren't all that interested in, either. but he smelled nice, and he seemed nice, and you were just looking to broaden your horizons just a bit.

you and hobie weren't exclusive, but maybe it's a little wrong to flirt with someone else at his show. but you were slightly upset, and craving attention, so it didn't matter.

not until hobie got off stage.

it took a while for him to roam over to you, but even then you were still entertaining the other guy. giggling, tilting your head, batting your eyelashes, your hip popped out and a manicure, that was still fresh, blinging as your hand rested on the bone.

he greets you with a term of endearment that he uses often, but it feels different in this circumstance. you tell yourself that it feels different because you want it to feel different.

"oi, babe! who's this bloke?"

his arm slings over your shoulder and you tense under it. your hands folding over your chest, your smile tightening a little.

“uh this is steven.” your hand reaches out to point to the man, a tight lipped smile spreading onto his lips.

“steven …” hobie repeats the name slowly, and without looking at him you can tell that he’s eyeing the guy up and down.

the air is stiff, the three of you are silent, and unfortunately, steven takes the hint to dismiss himself, and you instantly turn to hobie, a scowl on your face.

“what the fuck, hobes?” you’re pissed, but the nickname still slips off easily.

hobie shrugs and reaches into his back pocket, a cigarette appearing and he sticks it between his lips. instantly, your fingers pluck it out from his mouth, instead putting it in your own back pocket.

instead of looking upset, hobie looks amused. his hands reach out to grab your waist, and you want to give in, but you try to push his hands away instead.

hobie lets you, and you don’t know if your happy or upset with that.

“what’d you mean?”

you stare at him, deadpan, then gesture to where steven had walked away towards.

“you just cockblocked me!”

a cocky grin, almost a little condescending. “i didn’t ‘cockblock’ you, babes. you weren’t trying to get with that guy.” your eyebrow lifts and you can see realization come onto hobie’s face. “oh … you were?”

“yes! of course i was!”

“but why? you are i are together.”

“sure, hobes, but we’re not ‘together’.”

“yes we are.”

“no, we aren’t.”

“why do you think that?”

you suddenly feel a little insecure, eyes scanning the thinning crowd, ears noticing the way the volume in the pub is lowered. “because you’ve never put a label on it, bee.”

another layer of realization. hobie’s hands coming to your waist again, but this time you let him pull you in.

“i didn’t know we needed a label. but you’re my girl. and i’m your guy.”

your body heats up and you bite down onto your lower lip giddily, peeking up at hobie through your lashes.

"thought you didn't like relationships?"

"labels. i don't like labels."

there's a disruption in the atmosphere. goosebumps raise on your skin, the hair on the back of your neck sticks up, and even if you weren't aware internally, the way the magazine you were previously reading floats above the table would've tipped you off.

the portal opens shortly after, but you knew it was coming. it took hobie a while to tell you that he was spiderman, longer to convince you that he was spiderman, and a while longer to convince you of the existence society, and even though you know, you still get a little shocked whenever a portal opens.

he comes through first, thud of his heavy boots against the floor of his flat. the spoon in your mouth clings against the side of the bowl, your free hand reaches out to the tv remote to pause the episode as you look over at hobie.

"oi, didn't know you were still here." is all he says before he's walking over, pulling his mask off on the way, and leaning down. your head tilts up instantly to meet his lips in a kiss, your body warming with the way his hand pushes into the back of the couch, slender but muscular form caging you in.

you expect him to sit beside you and force you to give a recap of the episode, but he stands back, and then three other people come through the portal.

"oh ... are we expecting guests?" surprise sits in your words, the tone amplified when hobie takes your bowl of cereal out of your hands to finish it off himself.

"right," he speaks through mouthfuls, saying your name as an introduction to the other three. "this is pav, miles, and gwendy. spider people." you nod, waving at each.

"this here, is my girlfriend." three sets of spider-eyes widen with the admission and you can already sense what's coming.

"wow, you're pretty. 's nice to meet you."

"i knew it! i could sense the tension as soon as we got here."

"you have a girlfriend? wait. i thought you didn't like labels."

a small smile on your face as you tuck your hands in the pocket of hobie’s sweatshirt that you wear.

in coordination learned from how close you two are, you speak at the same time.

"he doesn't like consistency."

"don't like consistency, mate."

[slttygeto]

SOMETHING I’M MADE FOR

what was i made for? | think i forgot, how to be happy

જ⁀➴ synopsis: you owe suguru a lot. a heartfelt apology is one of them.

જ⁀➴ c.w: hurt/comfort, fem bodied! reader, very unrealistic timelines, i have never taken a 'break' while in a relationship so pls dont come for me, reader is mentioned to being depressed at one point, suguru is going through it, second chance sort of.

જ⁀➴ word count; 1,4k

જ⁀➴ note: idk how to feel abt this tbh

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

There was no need for you to feel this nervous, but given the amount of times you’ve wiped your hand on the fabric of your skirt that would sound a bit ridiculous. You were nervous, and rightfully so. You stand in front of the same door that you used to have the keys to, a very familiar red wooden door with the number of the apartment written in gold sitting at the very top, you raise your hand and your knuckles collider with the wood one, two and then three times before you’re taking two steps behind out of respect and privacy for your… well, you didn’t know what to refer to Suguru in this case.

You try not to overthink it, you came here with good intentions. Over the four weeks with almost contact with the man except for the occasional text messages here and there, you’ve come to realize a couple of things. First, you needed to apologize to him. Four weeks isn’t enough for you to heal completely from the damage caused from feeling so low in a long term relationship, but it was enough time to reflect on how you behaved that night with him. Some of his words might’ve hurt you, but you later on figured that it was because he was right, as bad as it sounds.

And second, you were ready to let go of him if staying with you was draining him. You knew that Suguru would never tell you something like that—he might’ve been blunt with strangers, but the man had such a soft spot and a sweet side with his loved ones. God knows how much he loves you, and how many times he said it. But you were too busy thinking that your problems were burdening him and thus, you didn’t deserve the man.

You hear shuffling from behind the door and when it swings open with and you’re greeted with a Suguru in a lazy attire, you feel your heart get stuck in your throat. You hadn’t told him you were going to show up, but you had texted Satoru earlier the same week to make sure that he was at home. To say that Satoru wanted to kill you was an understatement, the white haired male was very protective of his best friend no matter how dearly you meant to him.

Me

Hey, is suguru gonna be home this week?

Satoru

yeah. he hasn’t been outside in a while. why?

Your heart drops when you read that. Suguru wasn’t the type to stay holed up in his place for too long.

Me

um I thought id give him a visit

Satoru

yeah sure

he’ll appreciate that

You could feel the ice cold stare of his best friend through those messages. Maybe it was a little childish from his part, but after hearing that Suguru was acting unusual, you figured that maybe this time you would gladly take the heat.

You hoped that the person standing in front of you wasn’t any different from the person you abruptly left four weeks ago after a horrible fight, but one quick look at the messy hair and the sleep deprivation visible on his face was enough to make your chest burn with guilt. You’re unsure of what to say for a good few seconds, eyes darting behind him only to find the vacuum in the middle of the middle room and groceries on the counter. It seemed like he was trying to get life back together, did you really decide to pop at the wrong moment?

“Do you need something?” the way he breaks the silence is almost bone chilling and you find yourself smiling nervously at him before holding up bags of food to show him that you got him his favorite. But he doesn’t budge, emotionless eyes darting all over your face in what you assumed to be an attempt at making you feel small. And boy, it was working.

You feel stupid and drop the bags of food in front of him before taking a few steps back.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?” Suguru knows what you want to talk about.

“About u-“

“About us?” He cuts you off before you can even finish and raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say that you wanted to stop thinking about me for a while?” he continues. “It’s only been a month.”

“A month is more than enough,” you try to reason. “We were together for three years, of course-“

“Should’ve told yourself that when you left me.” Suguru retorts venomously and you start getting the clear picture. While being away from him made you realize how toxic you were behaving towards him, you being out of his life brought out his worst side. You knew this Suguru—he was spiteful, filled with hatred and didn’t hesitate to cut anyone with his words.

“Suguru,” you try again. “Let me come in.” You see him bite back another snarky response and he complies, letting you walk inside.

Once the bags of food are inside and you see him close the door, you hesitate on where to sit. The kitchen seemed to bring back bad memories, so you choose the couch that you both picked when you first moved in here and you watch as he sits on the other side, a little grunt leaving his lips as he leans back and stares at you.

“Seems like you’ve been doing well,” he points out. “I forgot what happy you looked like.”

You squirm a little under his intense gaze, the way his eyes travel from your bare legs up to your upper half then your face. You were used to Suguru’s loving stare, he always looked at you like you meant the entire world to him—but right now? You felt like he could eat you up and spit you out with his eyes.

“I’ve been, um…” You pause and place one leg on top of the other. “Reflecting on how I behaved in our relationship.” You admit and look around the place. He still managed to keep it neat.

“It was wrong of me to explode on you that night, and to keep so many things from you—it doesn’t undo the fact that I said what I said, but I just want to apologize.” Suguru’s eyes seem to soften for a split second when you shift again in your seat.

“For what?” he asks flatly but the way his body relaxes on the couch indicates that he means no harm. “For possibly being depressed when you were with me?”

“No,” you avoid looking at him. “It wasn’t because I was with you it’s because-“

“That’s not what you said that night,” he cuts you off. “I am so perfect and my life is so perfect that being with someone like me made you feel too guilty to tell me about your problems.” He continues before leaning forward, placing both of his elbows on his knees. “My face…apparently, that was also a reason for you not to tell me about your problems.”

“I was wrong,” you start growing a little nervous. “You weren’t the problem, and I’m here to tell you that I am deeply sorry for what happened that night, even if it was needed.”

Suguru is quiet for a few moments, he is in deep thought before he decides to speak up again.

“You know, a month isn’t enough to fall out of love with a person you pictured your future with,” he starts. “But it sure is enough time for you to resent them a little. You’re hurt and confused, everything was going well, or so you thought,”

“Suguru…”

“I thought that maybe I didn’t want to think about you too, that I was doing so much better without you but-“ the dry chuckle makes your heart squeeze. “As you can see, it’s clearly not the case.”

“We don’t have to get back together right now,”  your voice is soft and the way you’re trying to make yourself look small on his couch tugs at Suguru’s heart strings.

“I don’t think it’s that easy either,” he admits. “After all, I still do resent you a little.” His honesty is both relieving and hurtful. A part of you knows that it’s a long and difficult process, but if there was any person actually worth fighting for in your life, it was Suguru. “But…” you raise your head when you hear him speak up.

“I think we could try.”

And through tearful eyes and shared hopeful smiles, you are finally able to breathe again.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.