#and if it didn’t happen in canon i must make it happen myself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year ago

Text

Difference of Opinions (Part 1)

Fandom: Spider-Man, Spider-Verse, Across the Spider-Verse, Miguel O'Hara, f!Reader Summary: You went against the man you loved and helped Miles escape. Now you must face Miguel's wrath. Word Count: 1821 TW: Angst, Betrayal, Anger, Glitching, Left for Dead, Miguel has a temper Notes: I told myself I wasn't going to get sucked into writing for this movie, but this idea wouldn't stop nagging at my brain so here you go!

Prequel, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Series Masterlist

*Spoilers for Across the Spider-Verse*

As you watched Miles disappear in a flash of the Go Home machine, you couldn’t help but smile. For a moment, you had been afraid that he wasn’t going to make it. That despite everything you, Hobie, and Margo had done to help him, Miguel was going to stop him before he could escape. But he got to go home to try and save his father. He had a chance.

However, the smile slowly faded from your face as Miguel roared and ripped the arm off of the Go Home machine. You had been so focused on getting Miles off of Earth-928 that you hadn’t considered what happened afterwards. This was going to be bad.

The room had filled with other Spider-people who had all been involved in the chase for Miles and they all just stared at Miguel. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Margo’s avatar disappear and you sighed in relief. At least she would escape Miguel’s fury.

Right now, his focus had turned towards Gwen. As they began yelling back and forth at one another and Miguel dragged her into the Go Home machine, you started to back out of the room as inconspicuously as possible. While part of you wanted to run to Gwen’s aid, she was being sent back to her own universe. It was heartbreaking to watch– especially knowing what was going to happen to her father when she returned –however, she was getting off easy considering her part in getting Miles involved in the Spider-Society in the first place. Things could have been a lot worse for her. As they would probably be for you if you didn’t let Miguel cool down for a while before confronting him.

You had just about made it to the door when you heard a snarl behind you. “And where do you think you’re going?”

Red webs coiled around your arms and legs pinning them to your body and making you fall to the floor. Before you could try to squirm your way out, Miguel yanked hard and you flew backwards into him. He caught your chin with one large hand, his nails sharpening into claws and digging painfully into your skin as he held you off the ground.

His red eyes flashed dangerously as he roared in your face, “Did you think I wouldn’t see you trying to slink away? You helped him escape! You! Of the hundreds of us in the Spider-Society, you were the last one I ever imagined turning against me.”

“I haven’t turned against you, Miguel. You know I love you too much to ever do that.” With your face still pinned in his grasp, you tried your best to keep your expression calm and non-confrontational. You knew how he got when he was like this and it was better to not get him even more agitated. However, your voice remained firm and unwavering. “But right now, you’re letting your past cloud your judgment and you’re not thinking clearly. I was just trying to–”

“He’s trying to alter a second canon event! We still haven’t dealt with what he did in Mumbattan and you just let him get away to do it again!” He bared his sharp teeth at you as he growled deep in his throat. In all your years together as friends or as lovers, you had never once feared Miguel would hurt you…. until this moment. All reason seemed to have left him and all you saw when you looked at his face was fury and pain. There was no trace of the man you loved before you.

Trying to keep the quiver out of your voice, you calmly said, “You said it yourself. Miles is an anomaly. He was never supposed to be one of us so who’s to say he has to uphold the canon events? From what I can tell, the Peter Parker of that world already lost his captain before he died. So maybe Miles has a chance none of us ever got. Maybe he doesn’t have to bear this loss like the rest of us. Maybe he can change his fate.”

“‘Maybe! Maybe! Maybe’! You risked the lives of an entire universe on maybe!” Miguel’s grip on your face tightened and you mewled slightly as his claws broke skin. “Whether or not he was supposed to be Spider-Man, he is now. And that means he must follow the canon. If he was different than the rest of us, he wouldn’t have already lost his uncle.”

“Or may– possibly becoming the Prowler is what got that Aaron Davis killed, not because he was Miles’s uncle.” You tried to reach up to stroke Miguel’s cheek, to calm some of his anger, but your hands were still pinned to your side by his webs. “Miguel, don’t do this. I’m begging you. Please, let Miles try. Trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Slowly, Miguel’s fury faded from his face until there was nothing left but pain. Pain that you knew you had caused. He lowered you to the floor and loosened his grip on your face though he didn’t release you. Then, as he stared deeply into your eyes, he spoke in an agonized whisper. “I did trust you. I would have gone to the ends of the multiverse and beyond for you. I gave you my heart even after I swore never to open myself up to anyone again but you turned your back on me the first chance you had.”

Tears sprung to your eyes and you squirmed against the webs, desperate to touch him. To hold him and make him feel that your love for him never wavered. “You know that’s not true. I’ve stood by your side from the very beginning. I’ve loved you and helped you build this Society so we could uphold the canon across hundreds of universes. But I just… I just couldn’t stand by this time and not at least give Miles a chance to try and save someone he loves. I’m sorry.”

For just a moment, you thought you saw a glimpse of compassion or love in his gaze but it was quickly replaced by bitter cold indifference. “I’m not.”

His claws slashed through his webbing, freeing your limbs. But before you could move, Miguel grabbed your arm, ripped your portal watch from your wrist, and hurled it against the wall where it shattered into pieces. Still holding your arm, he tossed you across the room. You crashed into the floor and slid another dozen feet or so on your side. And just as you slowed to a stop, you glitched as this unfamiliar universe attacked your cells.

You felt like your body was simultaneously being compressed and stretched in a hundred directions at once. When the glitch ended, you let out a small whimper but the sound didn’t cull Miguel’s rage any. Even as you lay in a heap on the ground, he tossed a disk in your direction and suddenly a red transparent field surrounded you.

Unable to believe he was really doing this to you, you called out to him but he ignored your plea. Instead, he turned his back on you and growled, “Jess, Ben, come with me. And somebody catch Spot.”

Jess glanced at his retreating form then back to where you were now confined. “Miguel. You can’t just leave her like this. Without a watch–”

“She made her bed, now she can die in it,” he snapped without turning around. He simply opened a portal and said, “Let’s go.”

Ben fell in behind him, but Jess hesitated, her hand reaching out towards you. But you shook your head. Miguel had judged you and once that happened, no one could change his mind. Jess had too much to lose by trying to help you and despite hating to see her leaving to track Miles down, you knew she was just as trapped now as you were. So, reluctantly, she turned and followed Miguel and Ben into the portal.

Now alone, you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your face in them. You didn’t regret helping Miles, but you never imagined this would be the consequence. Miguel had a right to feel betrayed yet the fact he would go this far– that he was alright with you slowly glitching out of existence – broke your heart. Miguel had never been a saint but you never imagined he could do this. Not to you. How could his love sour so quickly that he was willing to let you die rather than try to understand why you did what you did?

No. I won’t accept that.

Miguel was just not thinking clearly after everything that had happened today. Deep down, he still loved you. He had to. Just as you still loved him despite him leaving you to die in this cage. If you could only show him that you were right and Miles was different, then maybe Miguel could forgive you for going against him. And maybe there was still hope for the two of you. Or maybe he would still want you dead.

Wow, Miguel was right and you did rely heavily on “maybe”.

However, there was just something about this situation that made you believe in those maybes. For years you had protected the multiverse by Miguel’s side and you had never questioned his decisions or a canon event. But something in your gut– in your spider-sense –was telling you this time was different. That Miles really could break from the canon without the same consequences as the others. But you would never know unless you found a way out of this cage!

Suddenly, you remembered how Miles managed to escape the same sort of prison an hour before. You might not have his Venom Blast powers but maybe Miguel presented you with your own way to escape. Spreading your arms and legs out as far as you could, you pressed yourself against the force field so you covered as much area as you possibly could. Then you waited.

About four minutes later, it happened. You glitched again but this time, you were ready for it. Using all the strength you could muster, you fought against the glitch and kept yourself pressed against the field. As your body began to flicker and change, so did the force field. When things finally corrected themselves and you were left moaning on the floor, you opened your eyes to see what was once your cage had been transformed into a pile of random junk from across the multiverse.

Giving it a slight push, the pile collapsed and you walked out of the remains of your prison. You were free. Now, you just had to find a way off of Earth-928 and back into the multiverse to find Miles before Miguel did. And you thought you had an idea about where to start….

Thank you for reading, liking, commenting, and/or rebloging! I am planning a prequel to this fic showing how Miguel and Reader met and I may also do a sequel fic to this one. If you are interested, please let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! Thanks!

1K notes · View notes

chaoticallywriting · 3 months ago

Text

☂Death and Her Companion☂

Prologue

Description - And so we meet the girl from the bunker, the hidden away secret. The one to powerful, to fearsome and to quick-witted. How sad it must be to be the harbinger of death and yet have such a kind soul. How odd it strikes the other Hargreaves that this wondrous woman is their 'little' brothers supposed ex. One must wonder what her role is in everything, which chest piece she is on Reginald Hargreaves board. One thing is for sure, to Five she is the all mighty queen.

A/N - Please don't expect much of me, I am dragging myself through work four cans of alani at a time. There are little time jumps throughout their time in the apocalypse. I plan on writing more cute apocalypse bonding moments for them throughout the series.

Warnings - Canon typical violence, use of y/n like twice. Needles, blood, syringes, abandonment issues. Self worth issues. Mentions of skinniness due to lack of food (from the apocalypse my dudes)

Pairing - Five x Reader

Word count - 6k

To tell a story, one must have a character or set of characters to follow. They may not be reliable or entirely likable nor good-hearted or kind, they may not be evil or extraordinary but simply intriguing. Intriguing enough to hold the reader's attention, to keep them coming back for more. And that is Y/N, a girl born on a day where something extraordinary happened and if given any other power she would have been one to marvel over.

But the babe was born with fingertips dosed in inky darkness and killed her mother during birth. Then her grandmother who held the babes pinky and so on. Eventually she was kept hidden with the help of one Reginald Hargreaves, who agreed that her power was too strong for the world to bear. So said girl lived her life underground with a robot as a mother (to keep her from accidentally killing her too) and eventually a robotic companion that was meant to resemble her age.

Even through glitches and random updates she didn’t know what normal really was, so she never batted an eye. As she grew so did the darkness upon her fingertips until eventually it stopped at her elbows. She read every book given to her, watched every movie and show and held a strict physical regiment to keep her in shape.

She learned just about every fighting style known to man thanks to the updates her mother was given and regularly ran in the underground garden. Her bunker was her life and she never thought it odd until she was 14. You see, all those movies and books showed a different life than hers, exciting ones that showed the ocean and the sun, the moon, stars. There was romance and friendships, adventures galore. Suddenly her life which was once fulfilling felt… suffocatingly dull.

Neither her companion nor mother would let her out nor sympathize with her. They only tried to distract the girl from her growing desires. But such desires only grew and mixed with the rage of a preteen girl came a moment in her life she’d always remember, the moment when the monotony would finally end. They didn’t listen, they tried placating, and they tried deflecting. At one point they tried to make her feel crazy, but her textbooks and ways of entertainment showed proof of a different life. So finally when all that rage and loneliness finished brewing it came time to try to escape.

She didn’t make it past the second steel door before a syringe was put in her neck. She awoke, she tried again, she was kept locked in a more secure room, no longer allowed to roam her bunker. So when her mother and companion came to visit on the 5th day she used her upbringing to her advantage and killed them. Twitching metallic limbs were scattered about the padded room, oil seeping out instead of blood and the sound of frying wires filling the air.

Finally, from doing this, she met the man who built her bunker. He kept himself protected behind a wall of plexiglass, staring her down through his monocle with a disapproving glare. “You have caused quite the mess.”

The young girl was sobbing, she had just killed the only people - no things she ever knew. She was a monster, a murderer. “I just want out, please let me out!”

“I cannot do that child, your power is beyond my control. You were able to suppress the medicine I tried to give you and are not fit for normal ways of living.”

His voice was cold and stern, in her already fragile state his lack of empathy only made her feel small. He only seemed to validate her worst fears.

“I can offer you something though, a way out from this life. All you must do is step through those doors and into the chamber I’ve built for you. It will let you out, I promise.”

The young girl, having never seen him before, didn’t know how this man was full of deceit. With barely anything else to do, she simply nodded through her tears. Whilst sniffling the girl followed his instructions and clambered into the small chamber. As she turned to face him, she realized how tiny it was and began to panic, but it was too late. Before she could even open her mouth to protest, the chamber door slammed shut and a gas filled the space.

It seemed like only seconds before air flooded the chamber, ragged gasps escaping her cracked lips. The pain she felt was overwhelming, it flooded her body and felt as though she was being torn in two. As her eyes rapidly blinked, she found the glass of the chamber had shattered and all around her was clouded by smoke and dust. As the terrified girl tried to move, that sharp pain halted her movements, causing her to crumble onto the floor.

Her hands and knees fell against the ground, shards of glass embedding into them and as the metallic taste flooded her mouth the young girl found a sharp metal stuck within her abdomen. Her once pristine white dress now drenched in blood and covered in smears of charcoal gray from the soot surrounding her. Blood dripped from her lips as she started to wheeze, her body falling the short distance onto the surrounding rumble. The icy grip of death was squeezing her and in her final moments she saw a pair of small and childlike leather loafers appear before her eyes.

Seconds turned to minutes as a confused and heart wrenched Five watched the young girl die. The only living being he’s seen since arriving in the future a mere eight hours ago, has perished within seconds of being within his presence. His confusion only heightens as he takes in her hands and forearms, then stares at the science fiction esque chamber she seemed to have fallen out of. It looked like something out of the comic books his brothers read- or well-used to read now that they are dead. The thought only hurt him more, causing tears to fill the pubescent eyes.

This odd looking girl had been stored in their family home, for how long? Five doesn’t know. But what he does know is his family is dead, and the world has ended, he’s seemingly alone and all he wishes to do is mourn his siblings. He takes a step backwards, planning on going back to their remains, (where he had spent the last six hours, sitting numbly among them) when a finger of hers twitches.

At first, he thinks he must be hallucinating from all the fumes and exhaustion due to all the tears he’s cried, but then it happens again and then her left arm jerks inwards, curling around her stomach. He’s stunned as he watches the young girl begin to slowly lift herself into a sitting position, the large piece of metal once lodged in her abdomen just… falling onto the ground, drenched in her blood.

The gaping hole begins to slowly mend itself as she wheezes and groans. Even all the tiny scratches across her body from the glass begin to heal and Five is left standing before some undead fourteen-year-old in a mixture of shock and awe. His siblings would probably be horrified and while he won’t say it out loud there is a small part of him that is; but that morbid curiosity of his kicks in and overpowers the dull horror ebbing through his brain. Suddenly it makes sense on how she survived an entire building collapsing on her and her near indestructible pod, how somehow whatever killed everyone else around him didn’t harm her.

“What are you?” He utters in a scratchy (he has been crying and screaming for hours) and awe filled tone.

Her nose scrunches, bloodied features full of fear and offense at his question. Those inky hands lay flat against the rubble as she pulls herself to stand, all wounds once leaking blood now closed and scabbed over. Her tone is soft and barely audible, as if almost scared to speak. “I’m just Y/N.”

The duffle slung over her shoulder is threadbare and has millions of random holes across it that have been half hazardously stitched back together. The uncomfortable strap digs into her shoulder as the weight of her valuables bogs her down. Their last source of shelter ended up collapsing not too long ago and so the sixteen-year-olds are once more on the hunt for a new place to call home. So they walk along a road cluttered with trash and rubble, dilapidated buildings lining both sides and the scorching sun beating down on them.

“What do you think we’ll find this time?”

He huffs, “I don’t know, something with a roof preferably.” Five has a duffle too along with a cart full of heavier items like their jars of food they’ve collected, jugs of barely drinkable water and makeshift tools.

The heat from the sun has made the girl drenched in sweat, body glistening and dirty, misshapen clothes stuck to her. Perhaps if she took her gloves off she’d feel a little better, but ever since discovering them she’s kept them on no matter the weather.

A year into the apocalypse they found a department store, one where Five became rather enamored by a mannequin. As he spent the better of twenty minutes simply staring at that torsoless thing, she hunted for any clothes they might need. Anything that didn’t seem within their size she set aside to eventually make a blanket out of it and began to softly hum to herself.

Finally, Five abandoned the mannequin and tossed something at the girl. A pair of elbow length black gloves. “Try those on,” he said as he began sifting through her pile of maybes. These were on the mannequin, she realized. The whole time she was worried about him losing it, and he came back with these instead of a new “friend.”

The gloves were a bit big but not enough that she had to worry about them slipping off. The inside felt silky and due to the size they went just passed her elbow instead. “These will be nice when winter hits, I won’t have to worry about potentially freezing any fingers off this year.”

“You should try touching the next rat we catch before we kill it… I have a theory that may help.”

And they did help, tremendously. The girl was shocked all it took to stop her powers was some cheap fabric. Her heart squeezed with appreciation as she finally began feeling less terrified of being around anything living. It felt ironic in the beginning how she finally felt free from not only herself but the chains that she was metaphorically born with, after the world had ended. Almost everyone was dead and she was finally at peace.

Now at sixteen she wears the same pair of gloves which now fit perfectly. There are holes and tears that have also been stitched with random thread that they scavenged throughout the years. Despite the fabric containing her undesired power, she finds herself hardly ever touching anything she wouldn’t want to kill. Anything that isn’t Five is food and well Five isn’t a very tactical person. There are a few nights each winter that they’ll huddle together for warmth, which he always makes a face about; but beyond that it’s more of a safety precaution. A ‘just in case I bump against you or need to grab you before you fall’ kind of thing.

As she stares at the dirtied gloves, a thought that’s always drifted through her mind bubbles to the surface once more. While they usually scavenge in silence to keep them focused for danger, today feels like an okay day to break that. There haven't been any accidents in a while, and typically they tend to be some sort of problem with herself. She’s fallen on rebar and been bitten by rabid rats, caught deathly flus and been the taste tester for water since the very day she fell out of what she can only assume was some type of cryochamber.

“Why do you think he never thought to do this to me?”

He eyes her for a second, brow raised. They both step over some debris, worn shoes knocking small rocks out of the way as he speaks. “What? End the world?”

A cockroach skitters by and for a brief second they both watch it in concentrated silence. There’s a silent debate between them, eyes locked, on whether they should hunt it and kill. Five makes the first move of ignoring it and moving on. They have jars of food, and it’s not that big. Plus they don’t have the necessities to pickle it like they did in the past.

“No dumbo.-“ He glares at her, “-give me gloves, so I couldn’t harm anyone. He could have saved so much time and money and I could have been one of you guys! One of the umbrella academy, going on missions and having a real family.”

“What we had wasn’t exactly a proper family,” he starts. The girl sighs, thinking of what her family was. While his wasn’t normal either, it wasn’t as insane sounding as hers. “I’m guessing you can’t really make a toddler or even a young child keep the gloves on, no matter how much you stress the importance of them.”

“Then he should have just killed me when he adopted me.”

He stops all together which she doesn’t pick up at first, too busy surveying their surroundings for anything useful. So far it’s just more collapsed buildings and dust. Sometimes she thinks of the old westerns Thomas (her childhood companion) liked, and imagines a tumbleweed lightly dancing across the street ahead of them.

“You think so?” Finally, she turns, noticing the distance between them and the girl just shrugs. He eyes her, gaze critical. They’ve been at this whole apocalypse thing for a while now and a major part of staying alive has been having one another. Yes he has the motivation of seeing his family again to help keep him going, but it’s been her that’s helped keep him off that delicious looking precipice of madness.

“I do, if he couldn’t trust me to simply keep some gloves on then he should have killed me. Obviously I was too dangerous for the world, and yet he wouldn’t just do the one thing that was probably best for everyone involved. I mean do you think he adopted me, realized my power and just shoved me in the bunker? Or do you think maybe he tried alternatives first?”

He rubs his face which is already smeared in dust and dirt, his hair is tangled and long and beyond greasy. She knows hers doesn’t look any better. It’s been a while since they’ve found anything sharp, the last sharp thing they had was a broken bottle that they used as a makeshift knife. It didn’t last long.

“I think despite his cold nature, killing a baby was too heartless of a task even for the old man.” He finally walks again, stopping at her side. Neither move, simply staring at one another. “I don’t know why he kept you in there, maybe we can figure that out when we get back.”

Despite his insistence of them returning, she finds herself hardly believing it. She’s never told him how she doubts him, worried it will cause a rift between the two. The idea of rocking the delicate balance between them has always been at the back of her mind. Sometimes she wakes in the middle of the night from a horrible dream of him abandoning her, claiming she’s too much of a liability or something.

“You have caused quite the mess.”

It loops in her brain like clockwork, constantly there to remind her of the life she once lived. Even if they were robots, she killed the only two companions she ever had, and she wonders if Five has ever judged her for it.

“Yeah,” she says in a slightly dejected, half-hearted tone. “Maybe.”

Around her twenties, something happens. She’s not quite sure how or why, but she stops aging. Five continues to age as time drags on and she stays relatively the same. They theorize that it must be because of her whole ‘not dying’ shtick which then just springs forth a new panic inside her. She’s always worried about Five somehow dying but now no matter what she’ll end up alone. Because even if she wraps him in bubble wrap and always takes good care of him, he will die and she won’t. There is no old age for her and there most likely never will be. She can do everything in her power to keep him alive but one day he will die, and she will be eternally alone in this fiery hellscape. It’s befitting, she guesses, due to his nickname for her being Death.

Death will be stuck in hell completely by herself because death always takes from others so why should it be given something in return. Why should it have companionship or a happy ending of some sort?

They’ve grown closer recently, it’s odd and comforting all at once. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that they’ve managed to make a somewhat stable makeshift shelter. They’ve spent two and a half years there and just recently have come across a small packet of potato seeds. There’s little hope anything will grow but that small piece of happiness has caused them both to briefly stop thinking of what needs to be done next to keep from dying.

They’re thirties now, or well she’s still physically twenty, and have recently been reading together at night. They huddle by their fire as the autumn chill sets in, and he reads a few passages before the flames die down. Shoulders bump and sometimes their heads lean against one another. He’s grown to be handsome in her eyes, and she wonders if she’d still think that if others were around.

One day, after the embers dwindle and a cold breeze drifts through the cracks within their makeshift home, something odd occurs. Within the darkness she makes out his eyes still open as they huddle together, surveying her features. When they make eye contact he clears his throat and shifts to look at the metal sheet ceiling they’ve concocted.

“What is it?” Death whispers. It’s not great to be loud at night, as time went on the rats got bigger and as did the roaches. They’ve become a sort of predator for them and while both are excellent fighters neither wants to deal with some sort of altercation this late at night.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he coldly responds. Ahh, so she gets to deal with defensive Five. The one who deflects and tries to turn it around on her. It’s funny and kinda cute that despite all the years that they’ve spent together, he still thinks he can lie to her.

“You were staring at me,” she turns to her side to face him, trying and failing to hide a smirk. Her hands are flat underneath her head to act as a cushion against the flattened pillow she’s been using for the last six years.

“You have dirt on your face.”

“I always have dirt on my face-“

“Yeah well,” he drawls, “you have more than usual.”

In a flash she turns to the other side, hand digging into the dirt nearby and smears it across his face. His mouth is gapping open, and she can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out. He clamps a hand over her mouth and for a moment, they stare into each other's eyes in silence as they wait to hear for any nearby creatures. His eyes are wide with anger and his grip against her mouth is rough, but she’s not scared. She could never be scared of him.

They stay like that even once it’s clear they aren’t in danger. His grip on her mouth softens slightly but neither diverts their gaze. It almost feels like a contest on who can wimp out first.

“You have beautiful eyes,” he mutters, his voice so soft it’s almost lost to the howling wind. “That’s what I was looking at.”

Deaths mouth drops open as his hand falls away.

“Oh.”

Her bravado is lost, and she feels something tighten within her chest. Her heart is beating rapidly, like whenever they're in danger, but they aren’t. She vaguely remembers watching heroines in romance movies describe this type of thing, this sort of rattling within her abdomen and sudden clamminess of the palms.

“And your lips,” he starts-

“What about them?” She whispers, far too nervous to let him continue without responding first.

“They suit your face perfectly.” His thumb comes to rest on her lower lip, and he slightly pulls at it. The woman’s breath hitches and unconsciously scoots closer to him. Their chests are touching as they lay on their sides, due to the closeness her hand comes to rest on the forearm of the hand that’s now moving to gently cradle her face.

“And I can’t stop thinking about them. Even when we’re in danger, I’m not focusing on the task at hand because all I can think about is your lips.”

She surges forward, closing the gap between them and pressing her lips against his own. He tastes of dirt and the saltiness of his sweat, but she doesn’t mind, she’s sure she tastes the same. It’s awkward and their teeth clash against one another, saliva dribbling down their chins and their touching each other everywhere they can think of. It’s messy and not romantic at all, holding this sense of life ending urgency. Like if she doesn’t kiss him until she can’t breathe then she’ll finally experience true mortality.

Eventually they reluctantly pull apart, both gasping for breath as their noses bump against one another. He’s still cradling her face and her grip on his forearm is bruising, as if worried he might pull away with regret.

“Esattamente come immaginavo” he whispers. She can’t help the smile that breaks out across her lips, nor the happy little sigh that escapes her. She kisses him again, and again and again. He indulges each one.

She breathes the words against his lips, his fingers now gripping her hip to hold her close. It’s hard to concentrate with his thigh pressed against her. “Come lo hai immaginato?” She finally breathes out.

“Perfetto.”

More years pass, that same shelter still works as their home, even if it is quite rickety. There’s a makeshift shelf lined with pickled roaches or rats and there’s new support poles throughout. With Fives age she does most of the intensive work now, which he hates and there’s always an argument about it. They are as close as can be though, despite everything and despite the wrinkles littering his face or the slight graying of his hair. She loves him, and he loves her in their own twisted little way.

One day someone appears and breaks their routine. A woman who goes by the title of “The Handler,” explains the commission to them and its mission. Then she pitches a cushy contract to them and while Five hymns and haws over it, Death is about ready to sign on the dotted line. It’s not that she doesn’t understand the risks or thinks it’ll be enjoyable, but it’s out of this apocalyptic wasteland, and it gives Five a chance to live longer. If they get out of here they can retire in their original timeline and get the medical care he may need in his old age.

Eventually, he concedes, and they leave behind what they’ve known as home for more than half their lives. It’s weird, being part of society again. At least for Five. Death was never fully part of society to begin with so it’s more of a whole panic inducing experience for her. They are given a small living space which consists of a queen bed and an en-suite bathroom. There’s a kitchenette against one wall with a small metal table that has two chairs pushed underneath it. Five says it looks like a motel straight outta the ‘50s. The Handler tells them that’s the current decade they are in.

Proper clothes and toiletries are given to them and the first time she showers since before her cryochamber is an experience. The hot water hits her back and seemingly melts her hair, turning it from a ratty mess to complete wetness that hangs down her back. The woman hasn’t had a hair cut since she was a child and as she climbs out of the shower she realizes how much hair she currently possesses. A towel is wrapped tightly around her when there’s a knock on the bathroom door, and she cautiously opens it to let Five in.

He whistles as he takes her in. Beads of water trail down her body and for once there’s not a speck of dirt on her. She spent forever scrubbing at every crevice and callous on her body, trying to rid herself of decades worth of dirt and survival. Her hands tightly grip the towel, afraid to be near him without her gloves. The commission took their old clothes away, claiming they were just trash now. She was promised new clothes and new gloves, but it hurt to part from the hole infested pair gifted to her by her partner.

“You look like a whole new woman,” he states. She looks down at her body, all skin, and bones from feasting on scraps for so long. She can’t hold back the chuckle that leaves her.

“I guess so,” she claims. He’s clean now too, even his beard is gone and all that’s left is a mustache. She’s shocked, he’s had one for so long. They’d try to cut it whenever they could to keep him cleanly but even then it’s not like they could do much. She grabs a pair of scissors from the counter and carefully hands them to him, holding her breath as she watches him take them from her. “Will you cut my hair?”

Five is shocked, it seems the idea of her cutting her long mane never crossed his mind. But if they are going to be assassins then she needs to be practical and there’s no need for such excessive amounts of hair now that they have access to proper scissors. It’s quiet as he cuts, there’s the faint sound of some old song playing in the background, most likely from the little radio on their dresser. She can hear the snip of the metal each time he cuts away a chunk of her past, the weight slowly lessening. It’s symbolic in a way, as if it’s him shutting the door on that part of their life.

Time drones on, many songs pass and neither of them speak. Eventually he turns her to him, careful to keep her away from the mirror. She watches him with bated breath, realizing now that maybe he won’t like her with shorter hair. It never crossed her mind, it’s only ever been them so the idea that he may suddenly lose interest just seemed… impossible.

He snips at a few strands close to her face, her initial reaction being to jerk away which he just tuts at her for. Finally, she stays still, and he finishes his work with a few more snips. After slowly setting the scissors down he takes her in, a smile slowly creeping into his thinning lips. “Bellísimo“ he whispers.

He always flirts with her in Italian, it causes her to flush. With all the dirt gone and the lights of the bathroom shining down on her, only a towel covering her naked frame, she suddenly feels insecure. She’s never felt that around him, never felt the need really. It was never about being pretty, there wasn’t time for pretty. But now there sort of is and there are the resources for it too.

He turns her to the mirror and the woman before her isn’t apocalyptic Death. This is the new her, fresh into society and ready to kill anyone necessary for her. She hopes that she comes to like who she sees in the mirror, or at least recognize her. Right now it seems like a hollowed out stranger with bags under her eyes and a bony form. But she will admit, Five is a good hairdresser.

The commission is smart, that she will give them. They hardly ever assign her and Five on missions together. They become ships passing in the night, barely seeing one another for an hour or so at a time before they are rushing off in a new mission, after a new target. Furthermore, they give her new silky black gloves and The Handler has dubbed her “The Belladonna” because she’s stealthy like a poison and quick like one too. Efficient and always out of sight. She loses count of the people she’s killed, at this point it’s instinctual to take off her gloves and just touch whenever need be. The horror of watching someone drop-dead mere moments later soon wears off, and instead she’s left feeling emptier each time.

Five has always been trying to figure out how to get home, but now with the technology of the commission he’s really started cracking down on it. She tries to help when she can, offering insight and even solving one of the various problems. It’s late one night, a rare one where they are both in their room together.

He’s got a drink in his hand, and she’s in one of his shirts with her gloves on. They’ve got papers scattered across the floor with various formulas and her brain hurts from all this thinking. She just got back from a mission, having successfully killed eight people who were at risk of disrupting the timeline. It was easy until the end, one slipped away and a chase began. She eventually got him but had to pull her gun on him which has always been her least favorite way to do it. It’s not like she’s bad at it, quite the contrary, but it’s messy. It’s brutal and suddenly it seems more impactful. With a simple touch they choke and freeze, then fall to the ground and boom! Dead. With a gun there’s a struggle and so much blood, there’s gasping and wheezing and pleads for a second chance. She feels less human every time she pulls the trigger.

“What about your age?” She randomly asks. He’s sat on the edge of the bed and her question has his gaze whipping away from the papers to her pacing form. “I mean, if we can travel to the correct time to fix the apocalypse from happening then maybe we can do something about your age.”

“What’s wrong with my age?” a white brow is raised and she sighs. She’s never really voiced her fear to him, worried he might end up becoming offended. In all honesty old age suits him, he’s always acted like an old man. Crotchety, opinionated with sarcasm dripping from his tone. He’s the kind who’d probably sit on his porch and yell at kids to get off his lawn.

Death walks over to him, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. They lock eyes, and she knows it’s time to finally tell him. “You’ll die in a couple of decades, and I’ll most likely still be a twenty-something year old woman. If we manage to get back to your family's timeline and retire then… Shouldn’t we be given the chance at a proper life together?”

“What like kids and a house? I didn’t peg you for the whole suburban life.”

She scoffs, eyes practically rolling into the back of her head. “No, I’m not talking about the whole white picket fence shebang.”

“I’m talking about us building a home together, finding a place with big windows in the living room that we’ll place two armchairs by so we can read in the sunlight. We’ll buy enough books to fill up a whole wall with them and a bar cart with your favorite spirits always stocked up.”

“We’ll get serious business-esque jobs and on the weekends we’ll lay in bed for an extra hour, cuddling or making love. You’ll get more time with not only me but your whole family too. Don’t you want that?”

It’s quiet for far too long as he contemplates her words, his eyes scanning over her features before looking at the mess of papers behind her. She can tell he’s doing the logistics in his head, weighing the pros and cons. His hands rest on her hips, and she gently straddles his lap, her arms linking around his neck to keep him close.

“It’ll complicate the formula even more,” he softly observes. “We’re so close to finishing this. I can tell.”

Her hands slide up to cup the back of his head. She can’t help but frown as he lets her down, her heart squeezing as she thinks of what’s down the road. “Please, we’re both smart, and can easily figure it out. It’s just a couple extra numbe-“

“Death-“

“Please,” she practically begs, her hands tangling in his hair and slightly tugging. “I can’t go live a normal life if you aren’t part of it.”

“I miss them, they’re my family, and they need me.”

She’s losing him, the wall is slowly going up, and she’s desperately trying to jump over it before the finality sets in. “What about me, don’t I need you too? Don’t we need each other I mean we survived the apocalypse together for fuck's sake!”

“And I spent the entire time thinking about getting back to them. Surviving for them.”

He doesn’t mean too, she knows that deep down, but his words cut her deeply. A wound on her barely beating heart is forming, and he’s just staring at her with a hardened expression.

Her eyes well with unshed tears, voice quivering as she speaks. “What about me, about us? Didn’t you survive for me too?”

It’s silent for two beats, then three and then four. They just stare at each other waiting for one to relent. Both of them are so stubborn and so set in their plan. She knows this is a pipe dream, but she was still holding out hope until this very moment. He thickly swallows and she just knows.

The wall is fully between them now. She couldn’t make the jump. His mind is made up, and she’s scared to hear what he’ll say. “I think I should go alone. There are less numbers if it’s just me.”

And that scratch, that wound, only deepens. It’s a crater now, and she fears there’s very little of her heart left functioning. She’s died a million times, been stabbed in every place imaginable, contracted various deadly illnesses, died from fire and hypothermia and yet now, this hurts far more than all of those combined. She climbs off of him like his touch is hurting her and aggressively wipes at her eyes.

“I didn’t realize I was hindering you so much-“

“I didn’t say that. I’m just sa-“

“I heard you loud and clear. If my presence is such a bother then I think I’ll request a different room.” She pulls on a pair of pants and quickly slips her feet into a pair of slippers. He just watches her too, doesn’t jump up to stop her. All this time she’s worried about what would happen if she voiced her thoughts, and it turns out her fears were warranted. All it took was her asking for something for once, begging for something even, for him to shut her out.

Five is selfish and cold-hearted, and he doesn’t love her like she loves him. He’s a man obsessed with one mission only, and she bets he won’t even like his family once he gets there. He just wants to be some kind of hero to them, to prove to himself that he can be the savior. To make up for his absence all those years.

With the click of the door, she severs the only love she’s ever known and changes the course of her life.

#the umbrella academy #TUH #reginald hargreeves #The Handler #lila pitts #max hargreeves #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you

102 notes · View notes

rallamajoop · 9 months ago

Text

Resident Evil 7 and Mia's secrets

(Oh, did you think I was done talking about Mia? Not even close! >D)

Coming into this fandom late, I was surprised that popular fanon has it that Mia never does come clean to Ethan, post-RE7. Sure, RE8 depends on Mia not having told Ethan he died in Dulvey, but that has nothing to do with her own past with the Connections (and far more to do with Ethan's own denial, but that's a whole other thing).

Myself, I’d taken it as given that the scene where Ethan learns the truth must have just happened off-screen. Because, disappointing as that omission is, the whole damn game is leading up to it.

And having replayed RE7 lately, I realised there'd be no better way to explain my take than to catalog every time the game spells out to us that Ethan knows Mia’s keeping secrets and wants answers, and that Mia herself wants to come clean.

Heck, it’s just about the very first thing we learn about them.

“Ethan... You were right. I did lie to you. I shouldn’t have, but…”

Ethan's not actually stupid, and Mia's secrecy has obviously strained their marriage for some time. And as soon as Ethan finds her, he’s asking questions.

Here, he’s mostly asking who did this to you; it's way too early for real answers. But then Eveline takes control, shit goes down, and next we see her, it’s in her recorded message from the “Mia” video tape.

“There’s so much you need to know.”

When Ethan finds Mia again under the old house, he’s angry and has every right to be, and he doesn’t pull any punches.

“I always wanted to tell you…”

But Mia’s memory’s still a mess, and Lucas interrupts. Ethan’s next chance to ask questions comes in the boat, and he wastes no time.

“You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

Mia’s a little more defensive here, but she’s not lying about the holes in her memory. The game’s gearing up for the big reveal anyway, and the writers aren’t about to let her spoil it early.

If you choose Zoe instead of Mia, Ethan spends the boat ride asking all the same questions, only louder.

“I knew Mia was hiding something.”

But in the end, what do we get?

Whoever you choose, Ethan only gets a few brief moments with Mia after she frees him from Eveline’s mould, and no explanations are offered. But if you do pick Mia, then we end with Ethan flying away with her in the helicopter, saying only, “Mia's back and she wants to start over,” and I’m left going, wait, what? Haven’t we skipped something here?

In defence of the fanon consensus that Ethan never finds out the truth, that does seem to be the ‘canonical’ intent ‒ at least inasmuch as there's this one throwaway bit about Mia not wanting Ethan to know buried in a bonus text file only available with this one overpriced DLC for RE8. That’s it, that’s as much explicit recognition as this thing ever gets, one way or the other. And fucking hell, but that's a let down.

Even if we assume that Mia’s desire to come clean goes away once her memory comes back, why would Ethan just stop asking? He’s been asking questions the whole damn game – was clearly asking questions long before the game began! Knowing that Eveline was controlling people doesn’t explain what Mia had to do with it all. Now he’s suddenly all, ‘killed the bad guy, saved the girl, everything’s fine’? Was all that ‘a door closed’ bullshit supposed to be him accepting he’d never get answers? Why?

There are workable ways to spin Ethan never finding out. You could suggest he just accepts that Mia’s memory is gone (hell, for all we actually see of the ending, Mia genuinely might have lost her memory again after Eveline sucked her back into the mould). After all the trauma Ethan’s been through, you could also suggest he’s gone directly into denial, refusing to face anything that might threaten his ‘happy ending’ with Mia. You could even suggest that that bit with Eveline saying 'I can make him love you' is her actively wiping Ethan's suspicions away. There's some lovely, subtle horror in any of these possibilities ‒ I would genuinely love to see all of them explored in fic! But none of them actually come through in the ending we get, and that omission is the single biggest issue that makes that conclusion to RE7 unsatisfying to me.

The whole damn game has been building up to the big confrontation where Ethan finds out the truth and (eventually, if not immediately) finds a way to forgive Mia, so we can still have our happy ending. As much OTT hate as Mia gets, the game is consistent in portraying her as someone who is painfully aware of how bad she’s fucked up, regrets it, and is committed to doing everything she can to protect the man she loves from the fallout of her mistakes.

I cannot overstate how willing Mia is to die to save Ethan, from the very moment she realises she's infected. She does die to save him if you choose Zoe over her. It's so much of why I ship them do hard.

But most frustrating of all, denying Mia the chance to come clean denies her any chance to explain herself. How did she get involved with the Connections? Did she know from the outset who she was working for? Did she genuinely buy into the idea they were finding ways to win wars without losing soldiers on battlefield, that the human casualties of all their work was worth it? If not, why did she keep working there? Was she slowly frog-boiled down to the deep end, did they have dirt on her, did she fear they might kill her if she tried to leave? What excuses did she make to herself as the months or years went on?

It's possible Mia’s the kind of hypocrite who doesn’t care about the human casualties of her employer, just as long as she and hers are okay, but nothing we see from her sells me on that interpretation. And even if she ever was, it's even harder to believe she's still that person after all she's been through.

It aggravates me that the games never gave us answers, not just because I want explanations that cast Mia in a sympathetic light, but because not giving us answers leaves this huge hole in her character. I'd even take explanations that cast her in an unsympathetic light, as long as it all ties together.

It irritates me even more because, even if Capcom wasn’t up for giving Ethan and Mia the big emotional confrontation they deserved, the solution was so simple: let Ethan find Mia’s diary on his way out of the ship. The whole goddamn franchise is filled with diaries and documents where characters lay out their backstories and motivations in ludicrous detail – why does Mia never get one? Just give us a handful of entries dated over the years, laying out her own feelings and anxieties about the job she’s doing. It would’ve been so easy!

It irritates me nearly as much that, even in the few corners of this fandom sympathetic to Mia, no-one seems to be very interested in answering these questions in fic or shared headcanons (and if there are examples out there I don't know about, please do link me to them!) How much did Mia know about what she was getting into when she started working for the Connections? Was it the job she kept telling herself was just until she could find something better, only for that ‘something better’ to never come along? Did she have stains on her record that made it hard to find another job? How much of her lying was a misguided attempt to protect Ethan, and how much was simply about protecting herself? There's so much to explore here!

This is also where I mention that I've already put my money where my mouth on this one, and written up my own take on Mia's backstory, and how Ethan might have found out the truth. You don't have to agree with my version, of course ‒ I mean it when I say I'd love to see other people's ideas too. Heck, I'd even be up for versions where Ethan ultimately can't forgive her, just as long as people come at it from the angle of looking at Mia as a character, not just a one-dimensional-villain.

But of course, I'd still prefer to think about versions where these two do find a way to make it work. It takes a lot to make me ship het this hard, but these two stealth-badasses have pulled it off with style.

#Mia Winters #Ethan Winters #mithan #Resident Evil 7 #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil #Mia Winters week #RE lore #meta

216 notes · View notes

kaontic · 1 month ago

Text

*Long post*

They are recovering from being exposed to a p.o.j.

Megs. I’m talking about Megs. He’s my second favorite villain of all time rn (tied with Star actually), but he is the ultimate p.o.j (piece of junk).

In fact, this issue, def makes me want to change my pfp, use the Transfixatron on Megs in his gun mode, and bury his aft in the more than 200ft deep mine shaft at the bottom of this crater fr.

Obviously it’s not deep enough but still.

Or you know what scratch that—because I would just be vandalizing a cool site, wouldn’t I? With JUNK!

*Looks down*

Yeah. I said it. Why are you even here rn—? Do you want me to discuss the time you were responsible for Brawl m[REDACTED]ing a puppy?

Thundercracker: What?

DO YOU?!

Idc if he “just” wanted to capture the dog. He “just” wanted to capture the dog to make dog soldiers.

Not even Joker would do that.

And in this continuity and this issue, we find out that he has no problem with and is EAGER to recruit youngling soldiers.

Or in other words, Cybertronians who have not fully developed their brain chips yet who are thus easier to manipulate.

(God this is gonna be a long post—)

Optimus, Grimlock, any Autobot—you better have tried to talk/keep Bee out of fighting like you did with Carly. Or at least, be real with him and have the “Prime told me there’d be days like this!” conversation.

Cliff and Arcee too despite us knowing damn well that they will fight no matter what.

Because, after all, at least in the US, you can join the military at 18 (or 17 with parental consent). Furthermore, it’s a sad fact of life, but many underage people fight in conflicts all over. It happens and is happening and I’m glad this has finally been (at least as far as I’ve seen and remember) explicitly acknowledged in a franchise about war.

I’m gonna try to be more organized about this but here are more things to note:

. We don’t know any Cybertronians’ official age. That’s never been a thing, because you’d have to calculate, and Hasbro ain’t doin’ that math.

. That being stated tho, based on the dialogue, Star/Ulchtar in this flashback could be anywhere from 14-19 years old in human years.

. It seems like he has some part-time job. Mood.

. This is the first time in canon I’ve seen a youngling Starscream join the Decepticons. In G1, he was an adult (former full-time scientist right?). In the WFC games, an adult. In TF One, an adult (and even older than Megs? I mean Steve Buscemi’s voice does not age fr so—).

. Kup looks significantly younger here than he does in Issue #7. That is Kup up there, right? Like middle-aged I guess? ⬆️

(Oh man…how is Hot Rod going to react…RIP)

. Um…that information from Issue #1.

Ok ok ok—I really need to focus here—

. When Genvo gets blasted, he falls forward into Ulchtar’s arms. I’m no physicist, but this means he must have been shot from the back, right?

. Optimus to me seems to appear from behind Ulchtar (in the other direction).

. Optimus presumably does not hurt Ulchtar (or even notice him?), which makes sense (if he saw Ulchtar). He’s unarmed.

. Optimus doesn’t have the same gun he did in Issue #1 here, and he has no gun at all in the Energon Universe Special sh** how am I supposed to compare—

Holy scrap I scare myself. O_O

. Megs’ fusion cannon cools fast.

. Megs knows that Ulchtar has brothers (“brothers” can also refer to comrades. As in “brothers-in-arms”).

. To Genvo, it’s not a matter of “if” Jetfire and Ulchtar join. It’s “when”. He knew more than he was able to let on too.

. Megs was able to answer Ulchtar’s question…despite him asking it in a low voice to himself? And from farther away? What?

. Megs, why the hell were you smiling when you made that claim in the EUS? That was my first 🚩, I just forgot to mention it before. Don’t you care about Cybertron? What is your deal? How old are you? HOW OLD IS OPTIMUS? HOW OLD IS JETFIRE NOW??????? THEY DIDN’T AGE THE SAME DUE TO THE CRASH—Oh wait right Void Rivals.

. Like no wonder Skybound Star acts so immature and violent, and maybe even resentful of Jetfire leaving him (which explains his hostility that caught Jetfire off guard).

In G1 he acts bratty, but he’s always been portrayed as an adult, so I didn’t expect this I just thought—FRAG— 😭

. I think we can all agree here that this is still not an excuse to lash out at the innocent, so Carly still deserves to get justice/his aft (idk [insert theme about revenge here]). But also Megs. Frag Megs, like honestly (I didn’t even like TF One Megs by the end). 😒

. And this is exactly how I imagine Megs recruiting his victims followers, especially when he’s interested in particular ones (it freaking happens in my AU but anyway— 😀).

Step 1: Show up at the right moment, when they are at their lowest. Act nice, very nice, and make yourself look less intimidating, by changing into something that’s not only small, but also capable of protection. Hence, a gun (gun-tank hybrid whatever—maybe he’s a triple changer like my AU).

It’s his way of communicating that he trusts you/sees your potential, and that you better could trust him because he will protect you, and guide you, and care for you, etc.— He’s totally not luring you into a false sense of security so he could use you. 🙂🫠

Step 2: Use information you know (to get even more personal) and high emotions to your advantage.

Step 3: ?????????????

Step 4: Profit until you get what’s coming to you.

Dammit why is he so magnetic? Forget the fusion cannon, that’s the scariest thing about him people!

My overall theory:

Genvo tragically said too much. Maybe he was trying to impress and gain Megs’ favor (somebody who he already looks up to), so he mentioned their (or just Ulchtar’s) clan (part of the Cybertronian defense force? Oh boy).

They’re numerous, fliers, and most valuably of all, some are outliers (have powers). Skywarp’s teleportation. The Rainmakers’ acid. Sunstorm’s radiation. Oh, how destructive that would be in a fight…

So, he put a tracker/recorder on Genvo (with or without his knowledge), wanting to find out what the clan’s deal was. Or maybe he or Soundwave just straight up stalked them via their alt modes, I wouldn’t be surprised. Are they interested in a side? Apparently not, and for Megs that’s a problem. Let’s make them interested.

Akin to the Aligned novels, he blows their territory up, intending to blame it on the Autobots. Genvo, perhaps aware of Megs’ plan/true intentions, is merely one loose end to tie.

In the end, Genvo wasn’t special or that useful, but he made for good fridge stuffing.

Idk how Omega Supreme factors into this. Maybe Optimus did blast Genvo. Nevertheless, Megs once again proves that he is the biggest selfish douchebag who cares more about himself than Cybertron’s future (unless proven otherwise?).

And I hope Carly wins/finds happiness along with Spike. Peace out. ✌️

57 notes · View notes

gojo-mochi · 1 year ago

Note

Monster trio meeting the girl of their dreams but turns out they are a marine

Pls and ty:)

Have a great day<3

Prompt: Monster trio meeting the girl of their dreams but turns out they are a marine.

A/N: First time at angst! WOOO (ง ื▿ ื)ว I kinda went overboard with this one…. So it took kinda long aha, Hope you enjoy tho anon if you’re still here!

Content Warning: Fem!reader, Angst, Mild blood, Reader is a new marine fresh out of training, Reader is all slightly different in each head canon since each person’s dream girl wouldn’t be the same, hurt/ no comfort.

Not Proofread

Word Count: 5.4K

Luffy:

First Meeting:

You were on your first job, patrolling around the island to catch any criminals or report any bad deeds. With rifle clutched in hand, you practiced your stomping routine all-thru out the day, eyes darting around to scan the whole area. That was when you came across a boy? Or a young man now that you glance over his ahem nice build, passed out in a alleyway. You immediately rush over to him, kneeling down and lifting up his head and checking for any obvious wounds or blood.

“Foo-food….so hungry..”

You heard him faintly groan out, followed by a loud stomach rumble. ‘Poor thing must not had eaten in a while..’ You pondered looking at his thin frame. You gently rest his head on your lap while you pull out your lunch bag. As soon as the stranger heard the sound of your bento opening, his eyes shot open, drooling pooling out of his mouth. You stifled a giggle at the sight, taking a pair of chopsticks and picking up one of the fried chicken you made for lunch. Offering it to the strange man, his lips seem to ‘stretch’ out and enveloped the whole chicken piece in a flash.

“Mm... yummy!”

You didn’t think more on that strange moment when the man urgently asked for more by making grabby hands motion and pouting out his lips. You couldn’t back your giggles at this point, once again picking up your chopsticks to hand feed this man. Soon, your whole lunch box was emptied and the man leans up, carefully positioning his straw-hat on top of his head. ‘That looked oddly familiar to me but why..’ Your thoughts get broken though as the strange man loudly smacks his lips together and turns to give you a thumbs up with a wide smile. “The meal tasted amazing! Almost as good as Sanji’s cooking!”

You blush a bit at his compliments, you always cooked for yourself so hearing someone saying that they enjoyed you’re cooking was new… and pleasant. “Ah! I forget to introduce myself.” You got up and dust off your pants, it was a new Marine Uniform they were testing out so you hate to get it dirty so quickly. “My name is y/n, may I asked for yours?” You reach out our hand in your introduction and the man’s hands quickly came to hold them.

‘Warm…’ You thought silently.

“Luffy!” He shakes your hand up and down rapidly, “You’re really pretty and nice by the way! You should come meet my crew! I’ll have Sanji cook something as a Thank You for giving me your lunch!” He spoke out in quick succession, not giving you time to respond back. Though you can feel your face heating up at hearing him call you ‘pretty’. “Oh right! I was supposed to meet up with my crew somewhere! I need to run now but see me later, yeah?!” You could only stare at his back as he starts to rush off somewhere.

Luffy’s POV

‘That food was so yummy! And the lady was so nice and pretty and wow!’ Luffy’s thoughts usually went a mile a min, especially now expect it was all about you. He couldn’t wait to tell his Nakamas about what happened today. He thought about how soft your lap was to rest on, how he enjoyed every single bite of food you gave him, how even more delicious the food was when it was coming from your hands. He had a skip in his steps as he ran around the island looking for any signs of his crew, ‘I hope y/n likes Sanji’s cooking! Maybe so much that she’ll even join us!’

A/N: Luffy not the type to fall in love in first sight, so idk how to exactly write out him meeting his dream girl other than this ｡･ﾟ･(ﾉД`)ヽ

Second Meeting:

You were alerted by your Commander about a group of pirates causing havoc near the docks. You dash to the dock ready to deal damage to these Pirates. ‘How dare they! Terrorizing a small island like this one!’ You thought angrily as you get closer to your destination. You soon come across a giant blue haired robot person? And a green haired man wielding three swords. Your allies were being slashed down right in front of you. You brought out your rifle and took aim at the pirates ready to fire at a moment notice.

When you noticed a certain straw hat jumping over everyone. Your heart was thumping, blood rushing to your head as you screamed out; “Luffy!?”

Luffy turned to look at you in midair and grinned wide, stretching his arms impossibly long to where you were. He crash land in front of you with a loud ‘thud’. “Y/N! You made it!” He yelled near your ears excitedly, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You get shoved him off and point your rifle at him with shaking hands. He gives you a sad puppy eyed look. “What’s wrong?” He tilts his head in a way that almost makes you stumble in your step. But you hold fast; “What’s wrong?! What’s wrong is that you are damn Pirate!”

You raise up your rifle again in fury. Did he not know that you were a Marine this whole time? …No, he must had known and pretended to be sick so you lowered your guard down or something, after all, all pirates are the same. You blink away the tears in your eyes, the expression on Luffy’s face almost tricked you into believing that he was clueless in all of this. “Surrender now! Or else I will use this!”

You get slammed by a reindeer or some sort of reindeer liked monster. Your back hits the ground with a hard “Oof.” Escaping your lips, through bleary eyes you can barely see Luffy reaching out for you before he was pulled away by that swordman. Another Marine goes to help you back up, you wince at seeing how your forearms were all scratched and bleeding now. With only rage fueling your voice you scream as the Pirate’s ship was getting ready to sail away. “This isn’t over Luffy! You’re dead to me!”

Luffy’s POV

The Sunny was sailing away and everyone on the ship was safe and accounted for. They made off with bags of food as well. Sanji even said he was making a feast tonight. So why did Luffy feel so sad… He only known for a couple of mins but those memories kept replaying in his head. Your warmth and your kindness, it was replaced with the vision of you screaming out and on the ground bruised.

His crewmates were quick to noticed Luffy’s new attitude, him slumped over on the railing just looking at the island as it fades out of view. When anyone came up to ask, Luffy didn’t give them a answer on why he was feeling this way, he just was. He hoped that the next time you guys end up meeting that it would turn out better but the bitter feeling in the back of his mind told him that you wanted him dead. Why did you have to turn out to be a Marine… he then wondered if he could change your mind and turn you into a pirate instead.

With that new plan in mind, he cheered up a bit and went to bother Sanji about when dinner was ready. He kept rubbing at his chest the whole day though, trying to suppress the ache he felt inside.

Zoro:

First Meeting:

You were cursing your way into shelter as the rain poured down on you. Keeping your sword close to your body as you huddled underneath a tree. ‘Damn it, of course it would rain as soon as I finished with my sword training for the day.’ You cursed silently, wringing out the sleeves on your robe. You always switch out of your usual Marine’s uniform when training but now you’re began to regret that choice. The Marine’s uniform were waterproof to a degree, given how much of your work was out on the sea.

You huff out, rolling your eyes to the dark overcast, flipping it off like it would make any sort of difference. You heard a snort coming off from the left. You jump up a bit in shock, glad that you’re commander wasn’t here to see you be so careless enough not to notice another presence near you. You glare at the new person, not out of any hatred, just annoyance. Why were you even annoyed at this person? You don’t really have an answer for that…

You take a good look at the stranger, he have oddly colored green hair, a scar over his eye, and three swords hung by the side of his hip. He sends over a small smirk when he catches you staring for too long at his open chest. “A picture would last longer, you know?” He taunted with a slight tilt of his head. You feel a fierce blush coming up and you tore your eyes away from watching the rain droplets go down on his admittedly nice abs. You faked a cough and straighten your shoulders out.

“I was just making sure you weren’t a threat or anything like that.” You grunted out. You blush even more when the stranger gave you a toothy smirk in response as he hums. The hums almost came out as growl from how deep it sounded. “So, do you still think I am threat then little missy?” His grey eyes now scanning over your body. Your hands itches towards your sword but you stop yourself.

“I’m Y/N, and I’m…” You took a small pause, “I’m sigh sorry about before, thinking you were a threat and all that.” You did feel bad for glaring at him for no reason, after all he didn’t do anything to deserve it. The man shifted his position, letting his robe fall open, exposing even more of his tanned skin and scarred muscles. “Tis’ fine, it’s not like I blame you for staring.” Oh, alright, now you don’t feel bad for glaring at him.

“I was-wasn’t staring!” You quickly snapped back, which cause the still unnamed man to barked out a laugh. You start to grind your teeth, ‘Fuck him and his stupid attractive laugh too.’ You thought as you turn to find shelter elsewhere. You felt a tug as the man grabbed on to your wrist and pulled you back.

“Hey! Wait! I uh fuck.” He lets you go. “Look, I didn’t mean to upset you alright. So don’t leave ok?” His voice sounded a bit softer than before. When you turned around, you catch sight of a small blush painting over his face. It made your heart skip a beat. You shuffles back to your spot, next to the man, letting your shoulder bump against his tall frame. “I didn’t know that you wanted me back that badly.” You jested, feeling off the warm feeling crawling up.

You heard another snort come off the man, and then the warmth of his broad hand coming to ruffle your hair. He didn’t say anything in return though, just letting the pitter patter of the raindrops wash over you two. It took a while and some brushing of hands and fake coughing for one of you to speak up again. “So.. what type of sword style do you use?” The man grunted and looked over to the sword by your hip. You drummed your fingers on the hilt of your blade nervously at his intense gaze.

“I came from a place called Mount Hua, and I was taught the Plum Blossom sword technique there.” You tilt your head back to glance as his expression. Most people would scoff when they see a woman with a sword so you wonder how he’s reacting. It catches you by surprise to see him so intrigued by your words. “Could you show me once this damn rain goes away?”

He sounded serious about it, not like all the others who taunted or mocked your style. ‘Plum Blossom style? Heh! Sounds girly enough for a woman to use! What does it do? Make everything pretty? Bahahah!’ Your thoughts race to all the things people said to you before. You faked another cough and tried to secretly wipe away your tears that were threatening to fall. You just settled for a nod, looking away, hoping that the man doesn’t see your tears. You hear some shifting beside you and the hand returns upon your head.

His callous fingers gently sunk into your hair, scraping against your scalp tenderly, it almost makes your purr from the sensation. He stayed silent, just letting his hand convey all his feelings. The rain soon ended after this moment, you didn’t know if you wanted to be happy or cry that it was over. You step out from under the shelter and give a head nod to the man. You wondered what a good time to ask for his name, it feels awkward to ask after so long.

The man gave a nod back and began to follow you as you walk to a good place to show off your sword technique. You suck in a shaky breath, readying your sword stance. Closing your eyes and steadying your mind, your body goes thru the motions you repeated so many times before. Right foot first, swing your sword out into an arc, twist your body and follow that arc, another step into a whole dance. Move your body like the swaying petals that descend down from Mount Hua.

Since your eyes were closed the whole time, you didn’t get to see the awestruck expression the man wore on his face the entire time. Mouth slightly agape and his one eye never leaving your form as you make the plum blossoms bloom around you with each swing. It was breath-taking and utterly ethereal, the man thought to himself. His own hand itching to try and copy your sword style. He wanted desperately to see more of this technique and more of you if he was being honest.

Once you were done, the plum blossom softly fall down around you, it made you look heavenly. You tried to not let out a wheeze, controlling your breaths unless your heartrate fully calmed down. Your turns toward the man as he was walking to you, mouth open to say something but cut off by the ringing of your transponder snail. Pere Pere Pere…. Click. You take out the snail from your pocket, it’s eyes opens as your commander’s shouts out. “Y/N! Where are you!? We have a code red down at the docks! Hurry over now!” You stammered out an yes while shooting the stranger a apologetic look. You quickly took foot to the docks, your duties outweigh everything else.

Zoro’s POV

His hand reached out before his mind could react but you were already gone. ‘Shit..’ Zoro looked back to the plum blossoms scattered on the ground. Picking one up between his fingers, rolling it around he sighs. Hand going to rest on his sword hilt he wonders if he could make flowers bloom like you could. His mind flashed back to your sorrowful expression when he asked you to show off your technique. You must had a hard time in the past, his fist balled up in fury at the thought of someone… anyone making you cry like that. He shook his heads as these kind of thoughts filled his head, it was unusual for him to feel such strong emotions and for someone he barely knows as well. He rolls his shoulders and tries not to delve deeper into these new emotions, wondering where the hell his crew was. (A/N: Zoro was supposed to meet his crew an hour ago but he got lost ofc ヽ(~_~()

Second Meeting:

Clang! Your sword comes down and clashed against the large blue metal arm of the cyborg. “Woah there lady! Why don’t we all calm down and talk about this, yeah?” You stepped back when arms sprout from the ground trying to grab your ankles. “We can talk about this once you all are all in handcuffs!” You ready to swing again but you stumble in you step when you caught sight of a familiar green head of hair. A fellow officer catches you before you fully fall flat on your face. “Get it together L/N!” You nod at your fellow officer.

Fighting down the urge to puke when the green haired stranger goes to join the Pirate Crew’s side. Your lips pressed together when you see him take out his swords against the marines. Your body tense and you made your way to the man. Swish! Clang!Zoro’s eye widen when you clashed swords. “Y/N? Wh-what? Why the hell are you here?!” Veins forming on his forearms as he tried to push back against your attack. “I should be asking you that! If I had known that you were a damn pirate I would never had-!” Your breath falters as your eyes start to well up with tears. Zoro let out a hiss when you managed to nick his arm a bit.

You could feel that he was holding back, not putting his full strength into his attacks. You growled out, “Stop doing that! Are you going easy on me just became I’m a girl?!” You swung down again with a heavy arc. Zoro jumped back shock and then anger paints over his face. “I wouldn’t hold back just cause of that! You don’t know a damn thing about me!” He snarled out, accidently putting some of his haki into his next swing, the force pushed you all the way across the battlefield. Your Commander caught you before you fell into the ocean.

Your head was dizzy and your ears was ringing, you felt your Commander’s hands on your back and neck as he props you up a bit. His visage was hazy and you could slightly hear the words, “Y/N?! Ar- -ou wi—me!? Y/N!!” The last thing you saw was Zoro in the distance, jumping up on the Pirate’s ship and leaving. You soon pass out in your Commander’s arms afterwards.

Zoro’s POV

He was getting patched up in Chopper’s office, heart still thumping from the visage of you all bloodied on the ground. From his own attack as well. He hiss out when Chopper applied the medical salve on a particularly grisly wound. “Sorry Zoro! Are you alright?” Chopper fretted over him, going to check over every inch of his body again. Zoro only grunted a “Is ok.” In return and stood up. He waves off Chopper’s worries and ignores the stinging stares on his back from the rest of his crewmates once he walked out on deck.

He goes up to the Crow’s Nest, pretending the paining in his arms weren’t there. He looks at all his gym equipment and slumps his shoulders, opting to just lay on the ground. ‘A nap sounds fine I guess…’

His hand goes inside his robe to pull out a single plum blossom petal, he rolls between his fingers, admiring the soft shades of colors. His mind goes back to you, your cute expression when he teased you, your form when dancing, and you.. dead on the ground because of him. He shuts his eyes and holds the petal close to his chest and goes to sleep. Wondering if things went differently, where you would be now…

Sanji:

First Meeting:

You pulled the short stick and got tasked with the duty of groceries shopping for the rest of your team this week. You squint at the long list your Commander gave you. “Apples, Bread (Make sure to get Rye NOT WHEAT), Meat, (Beef, Pork, Lamb if you find it), Bruss-oof.” You hit the back of a tall blonde stranger, stumbling backwards you shut your eyes preparing for the crash landing. Only to find yourself in the arms of the same stranger you bumped into. “Woah there! Are you alright ma chérié?” A smooth voice asked. You open you eyes to find the face of the stranger, a handsome man with a curly brow.

With his arms wrapped securely around your waist he brings you back up to your feet. You stuttered out an apology and bowed to your savior. He chuckles and bowed back with a more flawless posture. “No need to thank me, I will always help a beautiful lady in need.” He then put his hand out in asking for yours. You blush at the compliment and bashfully gave him your hand, he then proceeded to plant a soft kiss on the back of your hand which cause you to blush even further.

“May I ask why you were in such a big rush, my dear?”

“O-oh! I was getting groceries and I was looking at my list and not paying any attention, which I am so sorry for again!” As you explained your reasoning you went to show the list that held all the items you needed to buy. Expect it wasn’t in your hands anymore or your pockets for that matter. You pat around your whole body looking for that very long and important list. Finding nothing in the end, yours hand start to clench as your breathing became more unstable. “Shit, Shit, SHIT! This can not be happening to me right!” Your whole body at this point starts to shake, when you feel warm hands on your shoulders and a calming voice guiding you down.

“Hey there, look at me alright, and breath with me. You need to breath, miss…. That’s it… slow and steady… good job.”

Your breathing starts to calm down as you listen to the voice. Shoulders still slightly shaking as you feel the same warm hands as before pat your head and began to wipes away tears you didn’t know was falling. You start hiccupping as the man pulls you into his arms, rubbing small soothing circles on your back. Once you calmed down enough to speak, you look at up the man, still being held in his arms.

“Th-thank you for this… I’m sorry for—”

He stops you before you could finish your apology. “Don’t feel like you need to apologize my dear, it’s a man’s duty to always help dries a lady’s tears as well.” His head still petting your hair so sweetly it makes your heart squeeze a bit. Still he was a stranger no matter how handsome he is, so you reluctantly push away from his firm chest and try not to think too much about the look on his face as you did. “It just that I lost the list of all the things I need to get for my group and I’m not sure what to do now…”

The man hummed for a bit, closing his eyes before he said. “Why don’t I help you out with your shopping? Not to brag but I am quite the talented chef so this would be a easy task for me to do.” He grinned down at you. You start to refuse stating that you didn’t want to bother him but he had already grabbed your hand into his and was pulling you towards the marketplace. “Just tell me about who we’re buying for and let me take care of it, ok sweetheart?” Your heart skips so many beats hearing him call you sweetheart, just so casually like it was something that was normal between you two.

You brush aside the nickname and your beating heart to explain some of your teammates tastes and dislike. The more you talk the more comfortable you got, telling him about how each of your teammates have something they actively hate and will not even touch a dish if it has that certain ingredient in it. Throwing your arms in the air as you told the story of how two of them got into a fight over who ate the last of the mangos. He chuckles at the story or at how you were acting, you weren’t so sure but you were enjoying the time spent with him.

He easily explained what was best to get, how to pick the best fruit, cut of meat, and fresh fish, he also showed you how to haggle for the best prices as well. You giggled when he went back and forth with the old fishermen, his hand still held on tightly to yours the whole time. You felt a small squeeze every time the fishermen retorted back saying the price was firm. In the end he did get a couple of free fishes with his order. He was swinging his hand that held yours as he happily carried the numerous amount of bags all in his other arm.

You wanted to share some of the load but he was adamant about carrying it all for you but he denied every moment you asked. His hand was oh so warm and caring, when you reached your building you didn’t want to let go. And it seems like he didn’t either, he just silently drops the bags off and hold steady to you hand before letting go. Your fingers slipping past each other slowly until you were freed, free but cold. You just stayed there in the middle of your doorway, you both don’t even know the other’s name but you feel like there was something that was bubbling just below the surface.

However, before anything could happen the both of you heard a huge explosion come from somewhere in the city. The make the ground beneath shake heavily and your ears ring from the aftershock. You look around frantically to see any signs of enemies or anything that could be dangerous while the man did the same while shielding you. You shake off the same feeling in your chest as you went to Transponder Snail to check in with your team. “I have to go check on my friends! Please stay here and stay safe!” The man yells as he starts to run towards the source of the explosion.

You yelled after him but he was already long gone, the Transponder snail still ringing in your hand. You bite you lips in worry for your teammates and the strange man you gotten close to.

Sanji’s POV:

While he hates to leave a beautiful young lady behind, he can’t help but worry about his friends. So while his legs went on autopilot to his friends his mind wandered back over to the marketplace and to you, how his hand fits so perfectly on your waist, the way your smile seem to set his heart aflame each time you directed at him, it was a different sort of feeling from what he usually get when seeing a pretty lady. It both terrified and excited him at the same time, he thought of what he could do when he needed to leave the island later. Would you accept a vivre card from him a stranger, was that too much? Maybe just giving you his number would be fine… or maybe you could join the crew as his assistant? He need to convince Luffy first but also you but his mind couldn’t help but think of all the scenario of you and him together.

He finally reached source of the smoke and found his friends being attacked by a group of marines. He hurries in to help fight them off.

Second Meeting:

The Transponder snail opened up it eyes and you heard your teammate shout out your name. You responded back right away, asking how was everyone and where they were. You voice came out in rasps as you didn’t know that you were holding your breath this whole time. You slide down to the floor upon hearing that everyone was safe from the blast. Tears falling from all the stress, but you steadied yourself once your teammate asked if you could come help. You stifled some sniffles and told them that you’ll be there soon.

You got into your uniform and ready your weapon by your side as you head to the meeting area, the source of the explosion. ‘Where that kind stranger went to….I hope he’s ok..’ Thoughts like these race in your mind as you dash across the town. You hear the sound of fighting before you could spot anyone. You get out your weapon and hurry to the battle to find… The same stranger.

Your heart stops in your throat, your mind was spinning, and you could barely hear you’re the fight over you, as you eyes set on the man. He looked good, you hate to admit it, as he was going around kicking your teams’ ass, but dam does he look good doing it. You snapped out of it when you got pulled back by your commander as a strange and buff Raccoon dog(?) was barreling your way. You landed with a oof and grunted out a sorry as your commander went back to help the others.

Your mind was still foggy over why he man was helping the pirates and what that meant for the two of you. The two of you?? You only knew him for what? A couple of hours? Why were you thinking so hard on this, it obvious that he’s a pirate and that he needs to go down, just like every other pirate out there. You keep telling yourself that as you head straight towards him with your weapon pointed. “Halt!”

The man stopped in his tracks as he turns to meet you, his eye goes wide but then he immediately smiles wide. “Ma chérié! You’re here!” He stretch his arms out wide, as if he was waiting for a hug. You almost falter in your step as you felt your cheeks warm up. You pretended it was from anger and not anything else as you take a step back and faced your weapon towards him. “Surrounded now Pirate! I won’t ask twice!”

His arms was still out stretched but the smile on his face fell. It seems like he was struggling to say something but then the same Raccoon dog you saw before was crashing towards you again but you managed to step away just in time. “Get away from Sanji!” ‘Sanji… so that’s his name..’

You land on your feet with a hard thud. Growling as you try to swipe at the large creature, almost landing a hit when Sanji stops you with his leg. “Wait! Please let talks this out, my dear, we could work this out.” You pushed away his leg and yelled back. “Talk what out?! You’re a pirate! We have nothing between us!”. As soon as Sanji’s face fell, you regret what you said, heart twisting in your chest. One of your teammate came to stand beside you and take aim at the two, shooting at them while they ran back to their ship. You curse them out as the ship’s sails unfurled and they began to leave. Trying desperately to stop the tears from falling as your heart reach out to him while your mind was yelling at you.

Sanji’s POV:

He just stayed in the kitchen for most of the week after leaving that island. Distracting himself by preparing new dishes, snacks, drinks, anything that occupy his hands and his mind. Usopp and Nami was worried about him and the food storage but Sanji waved them off. He puffed out another smoke from his nth cigarette. Looking at his hand and trying to remember the warmth he felt when yours was holding it. He sighs, putting out his current cigarette and lighting up another one. As his thoughts pulled him back that marketplace and the sound of your laughter rings in his ears.

#banner by cafekitsune thank you!#₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ softy writes #SORRRY IT TOOK SO LONG #angst #sanji x you #sanji x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x you #zoro x reader #luffy x you #luffy x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons

644 notes · View notes

villainbait · 3 months ago

Text

So I did a short story submission for the Love and Deepspace Misty Invasion contest. I didn't get to spend as much time on it as I wanted (I actually wanted to do a few different ones but life got in the way) so I only had time to quickly clean up Sylus's before the deadline. Please enjoy under the cut. c:

Title: Last Night in Paradise Love Interest/Pairing: Sylus x Main Character Rating: M Word Count: 1k28 Alt Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58443109 Tags: teasing, kissing, implied sexual content, canon sylus behavior, story spoilers, lost oasis spoilers, first person pov

The hushed sounds of desert trees swaying in the wind permeated the otherwise quiet moment. I sat in the middle of the small rooftop bed that had been generously provided, unable to sleep, gazing across the vast expanse of sand that seemed to stretch on infinitely. Somewhere in that vast desert, supposed gods were laid to rest. My feelings, however, were a restless mess. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel about what happened the day before. Sleep tugged at the corners of my mind, but I couldn’t relax when a certain white-haired nuisance was still missing.

Sylus had set off towards the desert and hadn’t come back after that fateful sunset exchange. After how the conversation between the two of us had ended the day before, I didn’t expect him to. Instead, I had spent the day continuing to help the boy like you had been invited to do and making a tenuous friendship with the old lady, interrupted by sunbathing and delicious food.

I didn’t think he would’ve left me here like this with the way things were, or without even saying goodbye. It was difficult to tell whether I was relieved or disappointed about it, but I was leaving tomorrow, so I tried to convince myself it didn’t matter anyway. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear Sylus at all when he returned. All traces of his earlier behavior had dissipated, and I watched him approach the bed wearing the mocha colored silk robe I had spied on the wall earlier. I must be exhausted if I was so out of it I didn’t hear him shower or change.

“You’re still awake?” he murmured, sliding behind me before pulling me gently into his lap. What I wanted to say was that I was waiting for him, but instead all that came out was, “It’s too hot. I can’t sleep.”

“Do you need me to tell you a bedtime story again?”

His voice was low and close to my ear. It made me squirm in his lap as I recalled the last time he told me a bedtime story.

“No, I…”

“Or should I lull you to sleep using a different method this time?” he teased, his hand sliding higher under my thin gown.

“Sylus.” His name was a warning on my lips, but I knew I had lost the moment his own touched my throat. He hummed against the sensitive skin, and the heat of the summer oasis only made me burn hotter.

“Why do you look at me like I’m the first water you’ve seen in miles? Am I your oasis?” I blurted out suddenly, and he stopped his attempt to distract me from the summer heat to answer.

“If I said it’s because I want to drink you in until I'm satisfied?” His tone was careful.

“I’d be scared there wouldn’t be anything left of me by the time you were done.” I replied breathlessly. His cool breath against my overheated flesh makes me tremble, or maybe I’m trembling for another reason. I could feel the pounding of my heart against his lips, and the vulnerability of allowing him so close scares me as much as it excites me still. It was hard to focus with him wrapped around me like this, and I never knew if I wanted to pull him closer or shove him away. It always felt like a never-ending tug-of-war between the two of us, and neither one was willing to throw down the rope first.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Sylus murmured cryptically in response and propped his chin on my shoulder, his eyes drawn to the cut on my arm.

His fingers ghost over the ugly, angry kiss of a wound on my forearm that I had received from helping the boy earlier today. His expression is unreadable, and I watch as he uses the barest trace of his evol, the red mist swirling uselessly before dissipating. The wound will heal slowly.

I scoffed quietly. “Did you really think that would work?”

Sylus said nothing for a long time, the silence permeated by the rustling of desert trees or the quiet, discordant symphony of insects. Somewhere in the distance, an animal’s cry echoed softly. When I turned my head to look at him, he looked so far away, captured perhaps by the memory of another time. Another place. Another me. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who felt lost in this desert after all.

“Sylus?”

He looked down at the soft call of his name, and his expression was far more tender than I anticipated. It made me want to look away.

“What?” he cajoled, but he pulled me closer. “Are you so eager for my attention that you need to mewl for it?”

“I wasn't!” I puffed my cheeks out, indignant that he would suggest something so ridiculous. I started to pull away, but Sylus captured me fast in his arms. The night was balmy despite the tepid breeze, and I could feel the contact of dewy skin everywhere we connected. His robe had fallen dangerously open, and the sash barely held on.

I wanted to be closer to Sylus and I pressed more of my body against his, but it wasn’t enough.

“If you keep doing that,” he murmured slyly, his tone seductive. Intimate. “I won't be responsible for what happens next.” I tried to hide but Sylus wouldn’t let me, catching my wrist in his hand and using it as a distraction to kiss me. We grappled playfully until I suddenly found myself staring up at him, the stars creating a beautiful backdrop to this moment. I could smell the faint wafting scent of him from the shower and it lingered in the air. I wished I could wrap it around me forever. Sylus made me feel safe and I couldn’t deny I liked the warmth that safety brought.

I knew one day I’d miss it too.

He can see my mood start to shift and tips my chin up with his finger. “Let’s go to bed,” he whispers hotly against my lips and pulls me under the covers.

#love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lads sylus #sylus love and deepspace #l&ds sylus #first person pov #my writing #contest submission

74 notes · View notes

goodlucktai · 6 months ago

Text

the way things change

tmnt 2007 word count: 2k post-movie / canon compliant b team & leo-centric

this was my main piece for the @turtlestogetherzine ! it was such a fun project that so many talented people came together on and if you haven’t already you should definitely check out everyone else’s AMAZING contributions !

title borrowed from rivers and roads by the head and the heart

read on ao3

Donnie and Mikey have always been something of a matching set.

During their early years, they went everywhere together. Even when Mikey was at his most irritating and Donnie seemed two seconds away from disposing of him in brutal fashion—even though the two of them could be like night and day at the best of times—they were always on each other’s team first.

Raph used to call them ‘the twins’ because they were both his younger brothers and they were both, in his own words, tag-teaming little twerps. The twin moniker caught on and even Splinter would use it occasionally. In the back of his mind, Leo still does.

Three weeks after the dust had settled over the remains of Winter Corp, he found himself thinking, Guess some things never change.

“Donnie, a tablet at the breakfast table?” Leo asks dryly. “Really?”

Blatant disregard like this for one of sensei’s longest-standing rules was usually much more Raph’s speed.

Don pauses mid-scroll and thinks for a moment.

“Mikey, what day is it?” he says eventually.

“It’s the eleventh, dude, you’re good,” is Mikey’s distracted reply.

He’s making a game out of pouring as much cereal into his bowl as it will physically hold, which has amounted to a sizable mound of off-brand Lucky Charms. Leo is reluctantly curious to see what he’s going to do when he remembers he still needs to add milk.

Donnie, for his part, immediately goes back to ignoring the rest of them as a whole.

Raph puts his spoon down. “Explain what just happened.”

“It’s a prime number day,” Mikey says blithely, without looking up from the careful, exacting process of shaking another couple of marshmallow pieces out of the box. “Prime means primo screen-time.”

Splinter is sipping his tea without refuting Mikey’s explanation, so that must be a thing now. Leo blinks, processing this. He can’t help remembering how it was before he went away, the strict ‘no electronics at the table’ policy, because mealtimes were family times.

Raph directs his confusion down a different route. “Mike knows what prime numbers are? Since when?”

Donnie looks up from his tablet to angle a narrow look Raph’s way. His warm brown eyes are markedly cooler than before. He clearly didn’t appreciate the joke.

He’s never been one to pick fights with his siblings. The Donatello Leo knows is a gentle soul, every bit as deadly as the rest of his family, but more inclined to mediate disputes than start one himself.

So the last thing Leonardo expects is for him to take a page out of Raph’s book at eight in the morning.

When Mikey starts tapping and humming, Leo can't help smiling a little. It’s a sound he missed in the jungle.

“God, I can’t even hear myself think around here,” Raph grumbles.

To Leo’s ears, it’s not unkind. Teasing, but good-natured. Leo knows what Raphael sounds like when he’s ticked off beyond all reason—when he’s angling for a fight and determined to get one, when he’ll say anything to get Leo to punch back—and this is very much not that.

But something darts through Mikey’s expression that makes the big brother half of Leo’s brain sit up and pay attention. Donnie notices, too.

“He has ADHD, asshole,” he snaps. “If it bothers you that much, put on some headphones or go away.”

The atmosphere changes on a dime. Splinter’s ears go up, whiskers slicked back. Raph looks as surprised as Leo feels.

“Donnie!” Leo says, more stunned than scolding.

Donnie puts his tablet down, not quite hard enough to constitute a slam. “Are we really going to pretend that Mikey’s stimming is more annoying than listening to Raph when he’s in one of his moods?”

“Er, no.” Leo briefly looks to Splinter for guidance before he catches himself. “I mean—it’s just the way you said it.”

“The way I said it?” Donnie demands.

“Dee, knock it off,” Mikey interjects unhappily. “You know I hate it when you guys put me in the middle.”

It pulls Donatello up short. He visibly grits his teeth, then bites out, “Can I be excused?”

Splinter knows when to pick his battles. It’s a lesson all of his sons could stand to learn.

“Take your plate, please,” the rat says.

To Donnie’s credit, he doesn’t storm down the tunnel to the lab, even though it looks like he’d like to. The reinforced door shuts behind him with a decisive clang that rings through the lair.

Leo feels wrong-footed by the entire exchange. Somehow, in the last three minutes, a comfortable family breakfast went entirely off the rails.

Mikey isn’t humming anymore. The kitchen feels quieter than it should.

“Hey, I didn’t mean—” Raph starts uncertainly.

“Don’t be dumb, I know that,” Mikey says, not looking at anyone. He tips his dry cereal back into the box and then picks at his toast until he’s moved enough of it around that his plate appears halfway finished and he’s allowed to leave the table.

He does so at a run, booking it to the lab. The door opens right up for him. It was locked the last time Leo tried it.

And it’s locked the next time he tries it, too, half an hour later.

“It’s me,” Leo calls, feeling a little foolish standing out in the hall. “Can I come in?”

Donnie’s voice answers immediately. “List the first ten prime numbers and I’ll think about it.”

Okay, this is Donnie with a grudge. Leo remembers enough of what that looks like to tread carefully.

“I just want to talk,” he says. “Is Mikey okay?”

The door unlocks and Donnie rolls it open. He gives Leo an inscrutable look before he stands back to let him in.

Mikey is parked in a huge bean bag chair in the corner, headphones on, drawing tablet propped against his knees. His ninja senses must have pinged when Leo walked in; he glances up right on cue and offers a hang-loose sign. Leo mirrors it, entirely because he knows it’ll make Mikey snicker.

“He’s fine,” Donnie says unnecessarily, sitting down at his desk. “We look out for each other.”

If that’s a jab, it’s a well-aimed one.

“Yeah, I see that,” Leo says. “Look, I’m sorry if it sounded like I took Raph’s side back there. But you know that Raph doesn’t think Mikey’s stupid. He would be the first to break somebody’s jaw for implying that.”

“So that makes it okay to say whatever he wants to a neurodivergent teenager?” Don presses, eyes flashing. “But when I say something to Raph—”

Leo can feel himself losing his patience. “Donnie, come on. All I meant was that you shouldn’t pick fights when you know better.”

As soon as he says it he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Donnie spins his chair around to face the computer monitors, neatly severing his half of the conversation.

“Close the door behind you when you leave,” he says in a clipped tone.

Across the room, Mikey is watching them with round eyes. He’s a few seconds from tossing his art aside and getting up to diffuse the fight. As much as he hates when his brothers put him in the middle, he has no problem putting himself there.

It almost seems like Mikey isn’t sure if it’s safe to leave Donnie alone with this strange newcomer who looks a lot like the big brother who left them all behind.

Leo breathes through the sharp pain that brings him and thinks, Fix this.

He draws another chair over and sits down. Donnie’s shoulders go stiff but he doesn’t react otherwise.

“Sorry,” Leo says quietly.

It takes a minute but eventually Donnie nods, brown eyes full and troubled.

“Me too,” he replies. “I know I’m being difficult. I’m just—I feel so angry all the time.”

Donnie isn’t Raph. He never had any problem with Leo’s authority. He had his own parts to play on the team, parts he took pride in—doctor, scientist, engineer. He was relieved to hand back that mantle of leadership, to step back into his curated role, but that doesn’t mean everything just returns to the way it was.

Donatello still resents his big brothers for abandoning him, each in their own way. He’s still bitter about all the extra weight he had to carry, without thanks or credit. He’s been stuck in place for the last two years, no outlet, no time for himself, and nobody on his team but Mikey, the one person Donnie has always been directly responsible for and could never bring himself to burden. He picked up an I.T. job he hated and stuck with it for longer than he should have, because he wouldn’t know how to quit something halfway if his life depended on it. His typically strong relationship with Raph—one that Leo’s secretly envied since they were kids—soured and left him without their hothead’s support. He had to figure out how to be a grown-up at the tender age of sixteen.

Then Leo came back, expecting everything to be exactly how he left it.

Of course Donnie’s angry. It’s no wonder he’s picking fights left and right.

“You’re not being difficult, Don,” Leo says immediately, wishing, not for the first time, that Splinter had never sent him away. “If you want to scream and throw things at me, I think that would probably be more than fair.”

“I don’t want to do any of that,” Donnie replies wryly. He swivels his chair slightly, facing Leo again. There’s something grudgingly hopeful about him now—Leo’s little brother, trying to remember how to put his faith in Leo’s hands.

It’s such a precious thing to hold. Leo can’t screw this up again.

“You’ve worked out a pretty solid system while I was gone,” he says, bumping Donnie’s shoulder with his fist. “Can you show me the ropes?”

Give Donnie a chance to teach and he shines. Sure enough, he brightens a little.

“We help April with acquisitions for her antique store on Thursdays. Do you want to come?”

Leo heard about that from April. Apparently it’s more of a game than a chore, a city-wide scavenger hunt. He was hoping for an invitation but he wasn’t expecting one. He feels himself smile.

Mikey, who has clearly been listening in, lowers his headphones and asks, “All four of us?”

That brings Donnie up short. Leo jumps in.

“I told Raph I wanted us to do a team-building exercise sometime soon, and he said he’d be down for anything, as long as you two promised to go easy on him.”

That’s exactly what he said, too—only he’d added, gruffly affectionate, ‘those tag-teaming little twerps.’

“Sound good?” Leo asks them warmly.

Mikey beams. Donnie’s disagreeable outer shell begins to soften. By some miracle, Leo still knows how to do this. Two years wasn’t enough to overshadow a lifetime.

It’s a privilege to sit in the lab, watching Donnie bring up files on his latest project, listening attentively to engineering and mechanics that go clean over his head. Mikey joins them at the desk and shows Leo the digital painting he’s been working on, chattering energetically about watercolor and composition and the new brush he’s obsessed with.

Raph wanders in some time later with an apology in hand—drinks from the twins’ favorite coffee shop. He probably left right after breakfast to be back already.

Donnie smiles after the first sip. Raph must have got it exactly right.

Leo lets his tea warm his hands and soaks up their company the way regular turtles bask in sunlight.

Donnie and Mikey built a house in the empty space their brothers left behind. The door isn’t always open, but Leo and Raph can always knock. Maybe they could even live there together someday, once they remember how to be on each other’s team.

Until then, Leo is willing to put in the work. It’s what he’s always done.

He’ll do whatever it takes to get back home.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2k7 #hamato leonardo #hamato donatello #hamato michelangelo #b team #my writing #tmnt fic #turtles together zine

61 notes · View notes

a-reader-and-a-writer · 1 year ago

Text

Difference of Opinions (Part 1)

Prequel, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Series Masterlist

*Spoilers for Across the Spider-Verse*

You had just about made it to the door when you heard a snarl behind you. “And where do you think you’re going?”

For just a moment, you thought you saw a glimpse of compassion or love in his gaze but it was quickly replaced by bitter cold indifference. “I’m not.”

Jess glanced at his retreating form then back to where you were now confined. “Miguel. You can’t just leave her like this. Without a watch–”

“She made her bed, now she can die in it,” he snapped without turning around. He simply opened a portal and said, “Let’s go.”

No. I won’t accept that.

Wow, Miguel was right and you did rely heavily on “maybe”.

399 notes · View notes

mal3vol3nt · 1 month ago

Note

I don't mean to bombard you with asks or anything like that, but are there any noncanon ships you really like? Or even ones you really hate, aside from Zvtara?

when it comes to non-canon ships there are very very few i actually fuck with or can even see the vision behind. i guess to put it simply, if i can’t see it happening in canon then i can’t find it in me to ship them, and even for the ships where i can see it happening, i don’t actively seek out content for them

non-canon ships i like

katara x jiang -> katara likes em bald and pretty idk what else to tell yall. i am fully convinced they had a lil thing for each other but there was a heist going on so they didn’t have time to worry about that

kuzaang -> i can totally see pre-iceberg aang and kuzon having an innocent early childhood crush on each other. the kind where holding hands is like legendary stuff

tyzula -> azula just gives off repressed lesbian energy and i can’t help but interpret their lil conversation in the beach episode as two gay girls who kinda like each other but dont realize it’s romantic and who also don’t wanna pass off their flirting as flirting so it’s all disguised as straight girl talk. “omg you’re like soooo pretty” and “omg you should totally ask him (me) out! you could be with anybody in this room cause you’re soooo pretty (i’m including me in that).” not to mention the way ty lee getting so much male attention hits azula close to home. i think two things can be true at once where azula is both perplexed she hasn’t had the same luck and is upset that ty lee specifically is getting attention (cause lesbian)

teoaang -> more so in the sense i could see teo maybe having a lil crush on aang

non-canon ships i don’t like (other than zutara)

(also i’m talking explicitly about how i feel about the ships, not the shippers. i don’t care if you ship them)

azutara -> just no please

sokka x azula -> i have to look away

azulaang -> it’s getting painful (really good fan art tho i must admit)

zukka -> this one doesn’t bother me as much and i can consume fanfics where they are a background pair, but i mean very very background. like they’re only ever mentioned and they contribute nothing to the story 😭

zukaang -> i made a joke once about how this ship has potential in a tier list, so this may seem hypocritical, but i made that tier list (along with every tier list posted on this acc) with an irl who got really into atla after the netflix version came out, and we died laughing putting zukaang in a tier of their own. idk it was funny as fuck in the moment and we were kinda greening out, so every time i look back at that list i giggle a lil bit. and i kind of have this ship to thank for that memory so i can’t bring myself to hate it hate it just because it makes me laugh so much and reminisce on that moment. also, great fan art. there’s this one artist who drew aang and zuko so adorably for their au and it is admittedly one of my favorite atla fanarts. but, overall, i don’t ship them together like at all

taang -> the most sibling coded pair to ever sibling code. i absolutely can’t with this one. like this is genuinely in the top worst atla ships of all time

katoph -> this just feels like taang 2.0 to me

29 notes · View notes

proshippers-against-censorship · 1 month ago

Note

hope what i’m bringing up here is appropriate for this blog. i could try finding any other outlet, internal or outside resources that would help me get through this, but i’m trying not to ruffle any feathers.

so, since last year i’ve been watching something i used to be into when i was younger and participating in its fandom. through rewatching it i found out that i shipped two characters that i always had a noticeable affinity towards, except i realized i like the pairing way more as an adult because of everything i missed between them since i last saw the show. they were paired with different characters by the end and even if it was shown to make more “sense” for them according to the greater fandom, i initially didn’t care because of how much i enjoyed their dynamic thoughout the show’s duration. i felt that it brought out a bunch of discussion to be told whether you saw it the lens of a romatic or platonic relationship. most of what happened in the show’s main timeline could not go on without their involvement, and their individual development arcs kicked off because of the undeniable romantic relationship they tried to pursue at one point.

the big thing about their relationship that apparently makes it a “proship”/comship is the huge age difference between them, and unfortunately that’s unfortunately all what the fandom sees them for. i feel that even when talking about the romantic/sexual aspect of them together and the implications, they have one of the least discussed dynamics i’ve seen of many of the major characters, which doesn’t make sense because they’re both the male and female mcs. it’s always “thank god they didnt get together, i’m sick at the thought of them with each other” even though thats beyond what their relationship was like as the story was drawing to a close. one tweet i saw which was a quote of one which showed a screenshot of the characters in the ship i’m talking about in a canonical platonic showing was something along the lines of “the four people who still ship this must be on suicide watch” which is just an awful thing to think of about anyone.

i do try to feel good about shipping them publicly despite all thats been brought towards me for it. or, at least the nothingness of it. a lot of blogs i’ve interacted with and been interested about following in the past through tag scrolling have blocked me for shipping it. i know this because i always notice that a couple blogs who mainly post about the fandom aren’t on my dash. it’s weird, i don’t even like it as a “standard” underage ship. i’m not saying they’re wrong for keeping themselves safe from things they don’t like, it just glooms me out because i still want to interact with much of the fandom, even if we don’t agree on stuff. i’m too old to be spiralling over these things and activating the sanctification in me i’m trying hard to undo to enjoy my hobbies. why does it even matter to me this much that people block me because they don’t like shit i create or post

with this i feel like anti culture absolutely neuters any kind of intellectual discussion about characters who were in a “problematic” relationship and gone out of it to be part of a standard platonic one. i don’t how unique it is for this ship, but i do imagine that people look into the bad things about it far too much. and hey, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure

(i’m being vague to protect myself from antis who might find me out and send me dumb shit, forgive me)

No, no, you're very right. The rise of anti culture has definitely led to a decrease in having decent, intellectual conversations about pairings in media and how the relationships between characters shift in ways that display incredibly important aspects of their stories.

But that ties back to the loss of media literacy, I fear.

#proshippers against censorship #jackal barks #proship please interact #proshippers please interact #proship positivity #proship #proshipper safe #proshipping #proshipper #anti anti #ask #asks #pro stance

21 notes · View notes

eddiediazismyhusband · 4 months ago

Note

This is what gets me when people write in depth analysis about how dumb they would be to not go there with queer Eddie and with Buddie. Like yes, I agree it would be incredibly stupid and bad writing - unfortunately as much as I want that to reassure me(and I’ll admit some days when I’m sad and need to not be I pretend to let it), it doesn’t. Just because it would be stupid and bad writing doesn’t mean they won’t do it. We’ve seen this show repeatedly make bad writing choices before. I’ve watched TV shows time and time again screw things up in the eleventh hour, I’ve seen so many shows set things up and then take a hard left turn into the dumbest plots in existence. And they get backlash for it but still do it. So as much as I want to believe that because logic and basic literary analysis says Eddie is queer and Buck and Eddie are each others’ best match - that isn’t a guarantee of anything. I’m also preparing myself that if we actually do get a queer Eddie storyline and buddie canon - there is a high possibility that they stumble through it in a ridiculous and poorly written way. I want more than anything for that not to be true but it is still a very distinct possibility.

this is exactly my feelings- like one of my biggest pet peeves are people making posts as if buddie is 10000% happening and there is absolutely zero possibility of it not going that way which i’m sorry to be a debbie downer once again but that’s just not true

what kills me is everyone in the fandom keeps talking about “it’d be so ooc for _______”, seemingly forgetting the fact that s7 was ooc for so many of the main characters to the point that we were all ragging on the writers about it… like if they were able to write a season so sloppy and terribly ooc what makes you think they won’t continue to do so, especially after tim just said “i don’t like to plan out seasons”

ooc writing happens in tv shows all the time. just because something wouldn’t make sense for a character/plotline doesn’t mean they won’t just do it anyway. like I’ve said before, tim has shown us that he only cares about shock value and drama- telling us himself in a interview that “i can’t just let them be happy, then no one would watch” (which is such total bullshit but this is the man who decided to make eddie have an emotional affair with a doppelgänger of his dead wife rather than just, yk, confirm his queerness)

i get it. it’s disappointing. you don’t want your favorite shows/characters to tank and go off the rails. but unfortunately, it has happened time and time and time again in network tv, and 9-1-1 is not immune to this.

i fully agree with the posts and analyses that detail how the show has set up buddie being the only satisfactory endgame relationship between them, and how it would be foolish and bad writing for them not to, but unfortunately (as you said in your ask) this show has made god awful writing choices frequently (literally the entirety of s7 is proof of that) and they have jumped through hoops to avoid buddie canon countless times— there is nothing stopping them from doing it again.

and this idea that just because they’re talking about buddie openly must mean they’re going canon is ridiculous. the short is reaching the end if it’s run; if it even gets renewed past s8, it’s very unlikely that they’ll go past s10 at the longest. they just moved to a new network, baited the fuck out of buddie pre-s7 and then didn’t give us anything and people are still watching. they know that as long as people think there’s a possibility of buddie canon that they’ll watch the show— it’s textbook queer/shipbaiting. 9-1-1 is not immune to this just because they’ve said “we don’t want to be accused of queerbaiting” in the past. we’ve reached a point where the network queerbaiting won’t cause enough backlash to warrant them being cautious anymore. it’s a dick move, yeah, but these creators are in this job for one thing: money. they have proven they don’t actually give a fuck about meaningful storytelling. it’s why they rely on cheap drama and shock value to get by bc they know people will tune in anyway.

i completely understand wanting to be hopeful and optimistic. i will forever be hopeful for the day that buddie finally go canon (although i hope they ditch the mustache before then because i don’t want to think of my alcoholic uncle when i see eddie kiss buck for the first time) and when it does i will be so fucking happy after waiting for 6 years.

but that’s the thing. i have waited for 6 years. i’m tired of getting my hopes up each season bc “guys this is literally the closest we’ve ever been there is no way they aren’t going to go there now” just to get slapped in the face by the showrunners and writers. i��m not going to get my hopes up about it just to be let the fuck down once again. and frankly, i don’t wanna see the fallout when we are let down again because people decided to convince themselves that it was 100% for sure set in stone happening when in reality it’s really not.

#911 abc #911 #911 on abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie 911 #buck and eddie #911 buddie #911 discourse #911 discussion #anti bucktommy #anti tommy kinard #tim minear #911 s8 #911 season 8

30 notes · View notes

bazaarwords · 4 months ago

Text

in spite of war [1/? | griddlehark | post-canon]

@votum-cordis thank u for this! i've taken some... artistic liberties....

(also big thank u to @smokestarrules for reading this)

🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

Corporeal is a word I probably wouldn’t have used to describe myself, before.

Not that I wasn’t, just that I’d never, like, looked in the mirror and said: Check me out. Corporeal. I can touch myself. Weheheyyy.

I mean, I’d done that in a mirror. A couple times, actually. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, I told Ianthe once. She’d had a knife to my neck. Don’t really remember how we got on the topic.

You’d think being dead would rip the horniness out of your loins, kicking and screaming and then cold and dead, just like the rest of you. But it really doesn’t.

Anyway, corporealism.

So, the reason I’d been thinking about it was the head massager. You know, one of the ones with the spindly little wires and the handle that you press down over your head and that makes you feel tingly and weird. I’d found it in my room, sitting on the foot of my bed with such deliberate placement I’d first thought: trap. It’s obviously a trap.

Then, you know, being dead doesn’t get rid of your curiosity either. I think it makes it worse, actually. You know what dying feels like, so if that’s the worst thing that happens then whatever. Been there, done that.

Let the head massager squeeze my brains out and kill me. Won’t be as bad as last time. Won’t be as bad as the River where you’re simultaneously hot and cold, wet and dry, feeling every single human emotion (and a few inhuman ones, too) while your soul is ricocheted around like a pinball.

Let me just say. That first time I tried it? I would have killed Dad-God all over again for that sensation.

I must have sat on my bed for an hour, feeling the cold metal points warm up as they dragged across my scalp. By the time I’d decided I was done, I was half-asleep, noodly and lame, curled up in a ball, the massager stuck on my head like a new and stupid hat.

Then you knocked at my door. I might have tried to save face, might have scrambled to my feet and ripped the thing off my head. A lot stays the same when you're dead, but some things change, too. I didn’t really give a shit how stupid I looked. I was relaxing.

“Yeah?” I called, too blissed out to get up.

“What are you doing, Nav?” You asked, with the kind of inflection that made it sound like you knew exactly what I was doing.

“Having private me-time. That’s being ruined.” I said, with the kind of inflection that made it sound like nothing at all was being ruined.

There was a pause. I didn’t look up, but I could feel you looking at me. I could always feel it, you know? Even back when we were kids, when we were different people. I didn’t have to be able to touch myself (lmao) to feel you around.

And, I don’t know, I guess I thought—granted, like an idiot—that things would be different. Death doesn’t take the hope away, either. Which sucks ass. I wish it did.

“We’re approaching Cyprus-b,” is all you said, and then I heard the door close.

The massager slid off my head, landing back on the bed with a little thump. I felt every bit of it, and the silence after.

I’ve got a sewn-up hole in my chest and that—the little click of the door latch—made me feel emptier than the memory of my shitty, beating heart.

#more to come!#first time i've ever done a multi-part thing on tumblr i think #i have smo to thank for the encouragement #i know i said i wouldn't post anything i didn't have 100% finished but i've lied mostly to myself #tlt #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #the locked tomb #fanfiction #griddlehark #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #my fic #my fics #writing #my writing

31 notes · View notes

666writingcafe · 2 months ago

Text

Mammon's Greatest Fear

Author's Note: First of all, I'd like to apologize for not writing this sooner. Work and life in general has taken up a lot of my energy, and I want to make sure I'm delivering the quality you all are used to seeing from me.

Secondly, I wanted to flesh out the reason why MC goes on these mind trips with the NB!Demon brothers, because canonically it's a bit vague (in my opinion, anyway). Basically, I'm taking the original boogeyman scene in OG!Obey Me and adding more substance to it.

I wake up in a brightly lit forest, confused as to how I've arrived here. The last thing I remember was...

Lunging at Lucifer.

Shit.

I'm sure he'll make me pay for it when I see him again.

If I see him again.

I have to figure out how to get out of here before I can even think about visiting Lucifer.

"Oh good! You're here!" My eyes soon meet those of a rather familiar-looking Little D.

"Number 2?" I ask, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"The very same!" the yellow Little D exclaims. "Mister Barbatos wasn't sure that this would work, so he'll be glad to hear that everything's going according to plan!"

"You'll have to forgive me, but I have no idea what's going on." Number Two clasps his hands together.

"That's right; you were in lala land when the discussion happened."

"Forcibly, but yes."

"So, here's the short and sweet version: Mister Barbatos believes that Mammon's fear is makin' his sin go into hyper-overdrive, and since it seems to be affecting you as well, he's havin' me serve as a bridge between the two of you." Number Two closes his eyes as he recounts Barbatos' message, clearly making sure he's saying everything he needs to.

If I recall correctly, while there are lots of Little D's that have spawned as a result of the brothers succumbing to their sin, the original set--Numbers One through Seven--live at the castle.

And if they're the originals, then it's probably safe to assume they have the strongest mental connection to the brothers out of all the Little D's in existence.

Which means...

"We're inside Mammon's mind, aren't we?"

"Ding-ding-ding! Solomon said you'd pick up on it quickly. Now we just need to find Mammon and get him to snap out of it so that everything can return to normal!" Sighing, I get up and stretch. This certainly wasn't on my to-do list today, but if it'll help us quit feeling this way...

Number Two jumps up, forcing me to catch him and carry him in my arms as I begin walking.

"Am I allowed to ask you for some insight into Mammon's psyche, or am I supposed to figure everything out myself?" I ask.

"You know some things already," Number Two answers. "For example, this place should be very familiar to you." Taking a better look at my surroundings proves the Little D. correct.

We're traversing through part of the Celestial Realm's forest.

And just like that, everything clicks into place.

I ran. I don’t know for how long, but eventually I wound up deep in the woods, my lungs about to burst. I nearly collapsed against one of the trees as I began sobbing. I didn’t know what else to do.

If Lucifer didn't find him, Mammon would most likely still be in the woods, lamenting the loss of everything.

As it is, those few moments are some of the lowest points in his life. Not knowing if you belonged anywhere or if anyone gave a damn about your well-being...

I suddenly bump into something solid, nearly dropping Number Two. When I regain composure, however, nothing appears to be blocking my way.

"One of his walls," Number Two casually comments. "He must be close." Sure enough, just a few feet away sits Mammon at the base of a tree, sobbing his eyes out as dark wisps of smoke encircle him. The longer they swirl around him, the more upset he becomes.

"He can't see or hear anything past the barrier." Number Two's voice has become a lot deeper. "Unless you break it, there's nothing you can do to save him." His eyes darken, quickly matching the wisps of smoke. The next words to leave his mouth aren't his own.

Go crawl in a hole and die.

That's the first thing I heard Levi tell Mammon all those years ago at the start of the exchange program. As Number Two continues talking, it quickly becomes apparent that he's become a mouthpiece for the wisps of smoke, who are repeating every nasty thing that has been said to and about him.

Do I believe that he allows his sin to control his actions more often than he should? Yes. Does he come across as a self-absorbed douche-bag most of the time? Again, yes.

If I didn’t act this way, then people wouldn’t take me seriously. They’d abandon me.

It's a vicious cycle that I had to help Mammon slowly break in my timeline, but the wounds he's developed from it are still fresh here, making the cycle's grip that much stronger on him.

There has to be a way to get past this barrier. Tapping for weak points doesn't work. Must have some pretty strong magic keeping it together.

But is it stronger than mine?

Only one way to find out.

"Number Two, I don't know if you can hear me, but if you're able to choose what to repeat, find the most vile statements and hit me with them. If my voice is saying any of them, all the better."

My power is heavily tied to my emotions. The quickest way to tap into its full potential is to rile me up and make me lash out. Solomon and Asmo exploited this side of my magic once, but now I get to use it for my own benefit.

Hopefully.

Because otherwise, I have no idea how to get Mammon out of here.

~~~

I find myself flying upright, struggling to catch my breath. A sudden dizzy spell threatens to have me fall right back down again.

"Steady." A hand latches onto my arm, preventing me from tumbling off the bed.

"Open." I follow the voice's command, a warm liquid soon hitting the back of my throat. Tastes slightly better than cough syrup, but I can't complain too much, as it quickly helps me feel less disoriented.

"Better?" I nod my head. Glancing over to my right reveals Mammon in a similar position to mine.

"Did it work?" I ask, my voice sounding incredibly croaky.

"Hell yeah, it did!" Number Two excitedly pipes up. "You shattered that barrier into a million pieces! It was awesome!"

"So, Mammon's okay now?"

"He wouldn't have been able to wake up if he wasn't," Barbatos answers. He must have gave me the potion that kept me from fainting just now. "And neither would you. Still, I recommend that both of you take it easy for a couple of days to ensure a full recovery from the mind trip you went on."

"I'm sure it won't be the last one I go on." Barbatos wearily smiles.

"Don't worry about that right now. Focus on resting."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy

#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me little d #obey me barbatos

20 notes · View notes