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acourtofwhatthefuck · 10 months ago

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Hello, hope you're doing alright. I have a pretty twisted one shot request concerning our amazing Shadowsinger. I was looking at the super natural dark dialogue prompts list and I feel like the #24 and #36 would fit perfectly for my request.

So basically: I was thinking about Azriel capturing the reader. She's a spy from the Spring Court and she was on a mission wandering at the border of the Night Court. When the reader wakes up, she's tied up in Azriel torture room. She also realizes how Azriel seems to be drawn to her. As she tries to find a way to make him untie her, she remembers something about Illyrians obssesion with bargains and deals. She offers to make a deal with him that the first one to make the other cum earn a favor. If she wins he spares her life, and if not he can kill her. And like as they conclude the pack, a tattoo appears on both of them and bla bla bla... and she ends up winning this challenge maybe?

Can't wait to see if you'll be willing to write this! I think it would have a lot of potential if written by you. Anyways, keep up your good work. I love your writing.

Okay, I know I said my next release would be the POM bonus bits, and then I’d be working on my other pieces, but I got this request and had immediate inspiration for it, so here it is!

Thank you to whoever sent this in! I hope I did it justice. It was very fun to write! I hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

The prompts you requested to be included in this will be written in bold.

Note: I haven’t tagged anyone in this because I desperately need to sort out my tag lists and haven’t had the chance. I’ll add them later if I get the time. Sorry!

Warnings: Smut! 18+, minors dni. NSFW. Some details of aggressive behaviour. Azriel being a sore ass LOSER.

Lust is a Losing Game — Azriel x Reader.

You can feel the caress of Night before your eyes open.

Every single court you have trespassed and traversed has its own distinct feel. The Autumn Court feels perpetually — and unsurprisingly — like a stroll through a forest, touched by brisk air and hues of oranges, yellows, reds. Your home court — Spring — has a feeling of renewed hope; like the first rays of sun after a long, harsh winter.

The Night Court is blood-drenched, rippling darkness, and the allure of scandal, of want, of lust.

Night time is for secrets and exploration. It’s for burning the bridge between who you are in the daylight and becoming something…else. It’s exciting, and it’s coaxing, and—

Cold, sharp metal prods beneath your chin. Its point is lethal. Any wrong move, and you’re bleeding.

Perhaps even more lethal is the quiet voice that commands, “Eyes open.”

Slowly, you comply — because you are both intrigued and wise. Intrigued by where you went wrong and where you ended up. Wise, because you know that cold, granite voice.

It doesn’t surprise you in the least to open your eyes and find Azriel the shadowsinger stood in front of you, his blade at your throat.

You know of him, of course — spymaster of the Night Court, a rare species of fae, far more powerful than many realise. You’ve sat across from him during terse meetings between courts and been the target of those guarded, icy stares. You’ve never heard him utter more than a few words at a time; he is spoken for by reputation, by violence and threat and battle.

But you’d know that voice anywhere.

You peer up at him through eyes blurred by some sort of power. And when your lips tilt up into a smile, a subtle tick of his jaw tells you it incenses him.

“Hello, Azriel.” You rasp.

The blade presses into your skin as he asks, “What were you doing at the border of our court?”

“Picking wildflowers. Foraging berries. Making a daisy chain. All the things a lady loves to do.”

A quiet noise sounds in his throat. “Is that what you are? A lady?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be, shadowsinger.”

His answering smile is cruel. A harsher press, and his blade nicks your throat. A drop of warm blood blooms on your skin.

Your eyes, rapidly clearing, take quick stock of your surroundings. The room is dark and damp and cold, empty save for the chair on which you sit — to which you are constrained. You can scent the blood of a thousand previous victims of the shadowsinger, and you imagine the vacancy of the space must have been more intimidating to them, somehow, than if the room were filled to the brim with torture instruments. The lack thereof tells anyone who finds themselves here that the Night Court’s spymaster does not need such things to do his work.

You try to shift in the chair, and find yourself well and truly stuck in place. Your gaze drops to your feet, where shadows act as manacles, as firm and strong and steel. Though your hands are restrained around the back of the chair, the cool touch tells you that a shadow binds them, too.

Azriel follows your gaze. A smug smile graces his mouth as he watches you try and fail to move.

“An impressive little trick.” You offer, nodding to the shadows around your ankles. “Now be a gentleman and untie me.”

“Tell me what you were doing at our border, and maybe I will.”

“Tell me your secrets and I’ll tell you mine.”

“You’re not really in the position to barter, right now, are you?”

“And yet, here I am.” You smile. “Bartering.”

He stares down at you, shrouded in shadows, in night. His aloofness has been perfected over centuries, but you somehow know where to look in order to tell — you’re getting on his nerves.

A slight angling of his head. Shifting on his feet. He drags the tip of that blade up, not pressing quite hard enough to draw more blood, but to make a twisted heat enter your veins. The blade stops at your cheek.

“I don’t know how you do things in the Spring Court.” His breath caresses your face. “But I can’t imagine it’s part of your job description to be a smartass who can’t keep her mouth shut.”

Your eyes flick down to that blade. Back up to his gaze. “I can’t imagine it’s part of yours to lust over me so tirelessly.”

The shadowsinger actually falters.

Something tells you he would never do that in front of somebody else.

His teeth grit. He bites out, “Tell me why the fuck you were at the border—”

“I’ve seen you, you know.” A satisfied smirk curls your lips. You will not give away that your arms and legs are beginning to ache. “I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me for years.”

A clatter bounces off the walls as he tosses his dagger to the floor. Can’t be one that means much to him, then. You almost laugh, but a scarred hand is gripping your chin to the point of pain. He tilts — yanks — your chin up. “Pray, tell, how do I look at you?”

“With hunger.”

“Hatred.”

“Lust.”

“Loathing.”

“Like you want to touch me.”

“I am going,” he snarls, “to wrap my hands around your throat and—”

“Fuck me?”

“Kill you.”

A mocking pout puckers your lips. “Less sexy.”

"You must be a fool," his fingers bite into your skin, "to laugh in the face of such danger."

"What danger would that be? You've handed me your threats. What are you waiting for, Azriel? Kill me."

He could easily retrieve his blade and gut you then and there. You know it. He knows it.

And yet he doesn't do it.

He clenches his jaw so hard that you hear his teeth clash. He squeezes your chin, calluses and scars grazing you. It feels...good.

But then a growl is ripping from deep within his chest, and he's tearing his hand away and pivoting on the spot. He's confident enough in the shadow bindings to turn his back to you, clearly.

You just smile. He can't do it. Can't kill you.

"I'll do you the courtesy of asking one last time." His voice is strained. "Why were you snooping around our border."

"Perhaps I was hoping you'd find me and tie me to a chair. I'm into that kind of stuff, you know. We could make this fun."

"You think this room is intended for fun?"

"I think you and I could have fun anywhere, shadowsinger."

He says nothing. You watch as he sucks in a deep breath, steels himself. By his command, a shadow dances out and retrieves his blade from the floor. His fist flexes at his side.

Perhaps you can irritate him enough that he'll either kill you or let you leave out of pure exasperation. Or turn on the tears and plead innocence, that you're just a foolish, foolish girl doing her High Lord's bidding.

Or perhaps you can have fun.

You scan your brain for what you know about this court. How you can use it to your advantage — use Azriel to your advantage. An idea knits itself in the twisted avenues of your mind.

"This court has a thing for bargains, does it not?" You watch Azriel's shoulders tense at the sound of your voice. "How about making a bargain with me?"

He chokes on a scoff. "Why would I want to make a bargain with you?"

"Because you want me."

Slowly, he turns. His eyes are narrowed, mouth pinched. He looks two seconds away from using that blade to wipe your head clean from your neck.

But then he smiles, cruelly and coldly. "How very sure of yourself you sound."

You mimic that smile. "I am." Damn right you are. "So here is my deal: you toy with that lust however you like. We tease each other. Coax reactions from each other."

"Where is the bargain in that?" No outright refusal.

"If I make you cum first, shadowsinger," your eyes fall to his breeches. You could swear you glimpse the outline of a bulge. "If I make you cum first, I get to walk out of here with my head still attached to my body. But if you make me cum first...well. You get to know why I was snooping around the Night Court border, and you can send my head back to my High Lord in a pretty little box."

He stares at you for what feels like so, so long. Head to toe, his eyes rake over you. His shadows whisper in his ears, things you don't need nor care to hear.

Because you might not have his shadows, but you are a spy, just as he is. And you know his mind is already made up.

Shadowsinger, spymaster, feared member of the infamous Night Court — but still, a male weakened by lust. Lust for you that has driven him mad for a long, long time.

Still, he tries to keep up a front. He sneers at you, "You'd so willingly barter away your life?"

You smile. Simply, prettily. "It turns me on."

Oh, he's lost to his need. There's a newer scent that has joined the present ones of cedar and night-chilled mist and bloodstains. This one is deeper, smokier. Spicier.

He points his blade at you, the tip glimmering. And the shadow binds fall away as he demands, "Undress."

Your hands fall back to your sides. "Are you saying you agree to my terms?"

"Yes. Now take. Your fucking. Clothes off."

"What way is that to talk to a lady?"

"You are no lady—" His words fall short as, with a snap of your fingers, your clothes disappear. Leave you in nothing but your undergarments. His eyes drink in the brassiere, the silky little fabric that hangs from your hips. He swallows. "And I am no gentleman."

A spy you may be — someone who throws themself into danger and risk and dirt and blood, time and time again. But you never see a reason not to wear pretty underwear while doing so. And gods, in this moment, you're very glad of that choice.

It's the same colour as the siphons that adorn the male before you. The coldness in Azriel's eyes is replaced by intense, raw heat. He takes a step towards you, but you kick out a leg.

"Your turn." You say.

He pauses. Chucks his dagger aside again.

And then his clothes are gone.

He doesn't seem the slightest bit fazed by the fact that he stands utterly naked before you. So much golden, sculpted skin on show. All over, white scars tell the stories of previous injuries. His body is a novel written over time.

That silky underwear of yours is already soaked as you take your fill of him. For a moment, you think you might stumble in your bravado. He's huge and hard and standing to attention. Utterly perfect.

But you sit up straight in the chair and plant your hands on the arms. Your legs part, and Azriel hungrily tracks the movement.

"There is only one rule." You tell him. "We don't want to make this too easy, after all."

His jaw flexes. Eyes don't stray from the growing damp patch between your thighs. "What's the rule."

"You can touch me. You can lick me. You can put your cock in my mouth and my hand and rub it against my skin. But you can't fuck me."

He starts, pupils blowing wide. "But—"

"Not today." Your lips curl up. "But if I win, and I walk out of here? Some other time, Azriel, you can fuck me."

"You are wicked."

"Do you accept my rule?"

"Yes."

You are wicked, indeed. You widen that gap between your legs until you're hooking them over the arms of the chair. Baring your silk-covered cunt to him. His eyes damn near roll into the back of his head at the sight.

"Do you think you can stand to touch me without fucking me?" You hum, your fingers dancing down to that, sweet, sweet spot. You run them over the dampness, biting your lip. "I don't think you can."

"You underestimate me." Azriel growls. "And you're going to cum first."

There is no opportunity for you to volley a response. Not as Azriel surges forward and yanks you out of the chair, his arms securing you. His firm, velvety cock presses against your stomach. His lips slide over yours in a harsh, bruising kiss.

A male of natural elegance and grace, he doesn't even falter in the kiss or his steps as he marches you back, back, until you're pressed up against a cold wall. You nip his bottom lip and reach between your bodies, wanting to feel the pulsing weight of his cock in your palm, but his hands are grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head.

"No hands." He snarls onto your lips. "Just my cock and your cunt. Whoever cums first is the loser."

You almost want to laugh. So, so easy this will be.

But then he's letting go of your hands and pinning you with a knee. And out of fucking nowhere, a slim bottle appears between his fingers. You watch, leaning against the cold surface of the wall, as he pulls the stopper out of the bottle and tilts it towards you.

Oil drips onto your chest. Rolls down your breasts, your stomach. Azriel watches with predatory focus as it floods to where he wants it — soaking your underwear.

The blue silk darkens, sticks to your skin. Showcases everything that Azriel so desperately wants, but everything he will not get — today.

And then so quickly, he's hoisting your leg at his hip. So quickly, his cock is pressing into your soaking undergarments.

He positions his length between your thighs and guides it through your clothed folds. Both of you let out an immediate gasp at the taunting sensation — that a mere bit of fabric separates you from what you both want.

"Is this how you're going to play it?" Your head falls back, teeth digging into your lower lip. "You think thrusting through my clothes is going to stop you from cumming?"

"No." He makes a small noise, slowly rolling his hips. Watches his glistening cock rubbing against the silk. "But I think I'm going to make you cum fast from it."

"And then you get to kill me."

"And then," the head of his cock nudges your clit, "I get to kill you."

The sensation is divine, you can’t deny it. A coiled, aching pleasure that sits tightly in your lower belly. Azriel hears your intake of breath, and he smiles like this will be easy for him. You’re having none of that.

You’re thankful for your refined stealth and balance as you clamp your leg tighter around him, pull him harder against you. His hands press flat against the wall either side of your head, and you both gasp as his cock rubs so torturously against you, up and down and up and down.

“Gods,” He grunts, dipping down to brush his lips against yours. “This is torture.”

You smile. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to remove my underwear? You still can’t fuck me, though.”

A suffering groan chokes out of him, and he throws his head back. Because yes, he fucking wants you to remove your underwear. Yes, he wants to feel his bare skin rubbing against your bare skin.

But gods, the temptation to slide his cock into you is going to be unbearable.

But even though he knows that, and you know that, he smiles like this is nothing. He bites out, pleasure wavering his voice, “Why not? It’ll only make you lose.”

“I think you’re giving yourself a little too much credit.” You say, and then your underwear is gone, leaving you naked and dripping with nothing to shield you.

Not expecting it so fast, Azriel’s cock slides easily through your folds — and the head nudges your entrance. Very nearly slips in. He growls and halts the roll of his hips.

“Oops.” You smirk. “Careful, shadowsinger.”

“You’re fucking insufferable.” He bites back, and then he’s kissing you.

The kiss robs you of breath and of words. All you can do is twine your arms around his neck and welcome the sensation of him fucking through your folds, your wetness his pleasure. You’re lost to the feeling of him bumping against your clit, rubbing against it. Your legs are beginning to tremble.

“I want to fuck you.” Azriel moans, dropping his head to take in the sight of his cock against your pussy, never entering, never going deeper.

“I know.” Your fingernails dig into his shoulders. “And you have wanted to for a very long time.”

“Yes.” He can’t even deny it. “Yes.”

“You think about me.”

“Yes.”

“You wonder what it’s like to be inside me.”

“Yes.”

“But not today.” Your hands stroke down his muscled arms, and you moan as he grinds his cock against your clit. “Not today.”

“Nor any other day.” His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head up. “Because I will have your head. Cum for me, lady.”

He kisses you again, and gods, you want to cum. Every single inch of you begs and trembles for it. You’re clenching around nothing, desperate to feel him inside you, fucking into you, spilling into you—

But through your pleasured haze, you remember: you will be victorious. Azriel cannot win.

And so when he’s kissing you and kissing you, moans catching in his throat and landing in your mouth, hips faltering with every thrust, you pull your lips from his and sink your teeth into his neck with a harsh bite. You’ve always imagined he’d like that.

And simultaneously, you lock him between your thighs and roll your hips torturously slow, dragging every last sensation from him.

Azriel’s cock, nestled snugly between the folds of your cunt, spasms and twitches. He slams his hands against the wall and goes still. Tries to pull back the control.

But it’s too late for that.

“Fuck!” He shouts, and then ropes of cum are spurting out of him and landing on your stomach, your breasts, your arms. Beads of it roll down his cock. He trembles hard, panting, groaning, growling.

And you suck harshly at his neck. Suck until it leaves a mark. And then pull away with a smile.

Breathing so, so heavily, Azriel’s gaze drops down to his cock like the damn thing has betrayed him. He’s wide-eyed and outraged. He’s not sure what’s just happened.

A horrid longing still aches between your legs and makes you want to continue until you’re exploding, too. But the triumph of a win is pleasure in itself.

“Well, well, well.” You glance down at the cum now coating your skin. “I do believe I was right.”

“What—” Azriel breathes, shaking out of his lust. “What kind of witchcraft was that?” He touches his neck, where you bit him. As though the answer lies there.”

You shrug. “No witchcraft, though I’m flattered you think so. You simply lost the game.”

“I. Don’t. Lose.”

“You just did.” You pat his shoulder. “There, there.”

He rips away, so fast that you almost fall. “Get the fuck away from me.”

“Gladly.” With a snap of your fingers, you’re squeaky clean and clothed once more. Azriel’s clothes return, too. “And I’ll do so with my pretty head still on my shoulders—

“Get out.”

“Because I won the game—”

“Get. Out.”

“A bargain’s a bargain, after all—”

“I will not tell you again.” His hand grabs the back of your neck, hard enough to bruise, and he marches you to the door, yanking it open. “Out.”

You’re thrown into a dim-lit hallway, your body colliding with a cold brick wall. You throw Azriel a smile over your shoulder, despite your teeth singing at the impact.

“Try not to wank over me too much!” You call, as he slams the door shut behind him. “See you around!”

It’s only once you’ve winnowed back to your own court, and you’re bathing the day from your skin, that you notice the small black band inked into your upper arm. You scrub at it until it’s red raw. It doesn’t budge.

The mark of a bargain. But you had always believed that the tattoos of bargains disappeared once the terms were fulfilled…

But if I win, and I walk out of here? Some other time, Azriel, you can fuck me…

It had all been bravado. And yet…it had unwittingly been woven into the bargain.

Some other time, Azriel, you can fuck me.

That’s the only way you’re getting that mark off your skin.

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kayewrite · 3 months ago

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Knock on your door

(bsn ending #7)

felix x reader! Lee yongbok x reader! word count: 1.6k

bsn alternative ending wherein; felix was the light in your dark days.

an: im sorry i cant respond to any messages yet huhuhu \. and yes i changed the title for felix . please love this also

part 1 and part 2 first

According to science, everyone needs the sun.

And you understand why.

The Earth needs the sun…

The plants need the sun. You need the sun.

But what happens when you’re trapped in your darkest days? How can you find the sun when everything around you is drenched in shadows?

Not everyone knows this, but you’ve been quietly suffering from depression. It’s a constant, heavy weight you carry, and anxiety is its relentless companion. And to be honest, you aren’t okay. You’ve managed to keep going, somehow, some way. But then, you met your friends, and they brought a spark of light into your life. They became your lifeline, your reason to keep moving forward.

Yet, even with their support, there are times when the words get stuck in your throat, when you can’t bring yourself to talk about the storm raging inside you. Yes, they would understand, without a doubt. But there’s a part of you that insists you should keep it to yourself, that you should solve these problems on your own.

But Felix… Felix saw through the cracks in your armor. As your friend who lives just three floors above you, Felix has always been more attuned to your unspoken struggles than anyone else. He’s the one who noticed when your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes, when your laughter felt just a little too hollow. He’s the one who could sense something was wrong, even when you tried your best to hide it.

One night, when the weight of it all became too much, Felix knocked on your door, holding his familiar yellow chicken stuffed toy—a silly, comforting thing that always managed to make you smile, even on the hardest days. It took you minutes to gather the strength to move, to drag yourself toward the door. But in the end, you didn’t open it. The effort was too much, the darkness too overwhelming.

When you didn’t answer, Felix’s heart sank with worry. He tried the handle and found it unlocked. Anxiety coursed through him as he pushed the door open. Without hesitation, he rushed inside. And then he saw you—crumpled on the floor, your body trembling with silent sobs, your face buried in your hands as tears poured down. Seeing you like that broke something inside him.

Without a word, he dropped to his knees beside you and pulled you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest, as if he could shield you from the pain that threatened to consume you. He didn’t ask what had happened, didn’t press you for answers. He just held you, his warmth seeping into your cold, aching bones. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear was a lifeline, a reminder that you weren’t alone. He stayed with you the whole night, cradling you in his arms, his presence a barrier against the darkness that sought to engulf you.

Indeed… science is correct. We all need sunshine in our lives.

And in the midst of your darkest days, you found it in Felix.

At first, he had an excuse—a noisy neighbor who supposedly kept him up all night, a reason for his sleepless nights. But that wasn’t the whole truth. Felix did talk to the neighbor, but that wasn’t why he started staying over.

The real reason was you. He couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone in the dark. Whenever he felt something was off, whenever he sensed that your silence hid more than you let on, he’d grab his stuffed toy and head straight to your door.

The yellow chicken became more than just a toy; it was a symbol of his silent promise to always be there for you, to be the light in your darkness. And whenever the nightmares came, when the shadows threatened to pull you under, he would place the toy next to you, hoping it would bring you a small measure of comfort, hoping it would remind you that you weren’t alone.

Felix had been thinking about something important for a while. One day, he brought it up to Han in the library.

“I’ve been considering something,” Felix said, his voice a mix of uncertainty and determination.

Han looked up from his book, curious. “What’s on your mind?”

Felix took a deep breath. “I think it might be better if she had someone close by. Someone who can be there for her.”

Felix was genuinely worried about you. He believed it would be better for you to have someone close by who could support you, especially during those tough times. But Han, who knew Felix had feelings for you and also had his own affection for you, wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. Han didn't know the full extent of what you were going through, as Felix had promised to keep that private.

Han was skeptical, partly because of the complicated emotions involved. He wondered if it was just Felix’s way of trying to be close to you or if it was about something more practical. A man and a woman living together could easily be misinterpreted, and Han felt uncomfortable with the situation, even though Felix's intentions were purely protective.

Felix understood Han's concerns but felt conflicted. He wanted to be there for you, to offer the support you needed, but he didn’t know how to navigate these delicate feelings or how to convince Han of his good intentions.

So, Felix continued to do what he knew best: checking in on you whenever he felt you might need someone..

and that was to knock on your door, with his yellow chicken stuff toy.

and whenever he knocks, he just wish he would never see you again in that state again.

Why would Felix go to such lengths for you, especially when you were just a friend?

You thought of yourself as just a friend to him, but Felix felt something different from the very first moment he saw you.

The way you greeted him the first time with a simple "hello" struck a chord deep within him. It was as if, from that very instant, he realized that you were more than just a friend to him.

Felix's feelings for you grew beyond friendship, and he found himself wanting to protect you, to be there for you in ways that went beyond mere companionship. He felt a strong urge to support you, to be the person who could make a difference in your life, especially during your toughest moments. His desire to be close to you and offer his support came from a place of deep care and affection.

after that night in the party..

did you know what Felix do?

he knocks.. on your door.

His heart was heavy with worry and guilt. He felt sorry and couldn’t shake the feeling that he was responsible for what was happening.

He knocked urgently, his mind racing with fear about what might be happening on the other side. When no response came, his anxiety grew. He felt a desperate urge to break through the door if it meant reaching you faster. His voice cracked with desperation as he shouted, "Open it!" He hoped his plea wouldn’t disturb the neighbors, but his concern left him with no other choice.

When the door finally swung open, Felix’s eyes met yours. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled you into a tight, protective hug. His embrace was firm, but gentle, trying to convey all his worry and care in that single, comforting gesture.

Felix’s face was etched with deep concern as he held you close. His worry was palpable, his fear evident in every fiber of his being. He had been so frightened about what he might find and was deeply relieved to be by your side, ready to support you however he could.

"Felix…" you murmured, your voice trembling. He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. His gaze was filled with a deep, genuine worry.

"What is it?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours for answers.

"I'm doomed," you said, your voice rough from crying. The tears had stopped, but the pain was still evident in your expression.

"Why?" Felix asked, his voice steady but filled with concern.

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain what you were feeling. The turmoil inside you was hard to put into words.

"I…" you started, struggling to find the right words. The weight of your emotions made it difficult to speak.

"I love you." Your eyes locked onto his, hoping he would understand.

Felix froze for a moment, his mind trying to process what you had just said. He stared at you, his expression a mix of shock and tenderness. The silence stretched between you, and it made you feel anxious and exposed.

"I…" you began again, but before you could continue, Felix made a decision. He gently pulled you towards him and kissed you.

The kiss was tender and full of emotion. It was a kiss that spoke of comfort and healing. Felix’s lips on yours were soft, and the warmth of the kiss seemed to wash over you, easing some of the fear and anxiety that had been building up inside you.

In that moment, you felt a profound sense of peace. Felix, who had been your anchor during the hardest times, was now offering you solace through this kiss. It was as if the kiss was telling you that you didn’t have to be afraid anymore, that everything would be okay.

As you pulled away, you realized that with Felix by your side, the fears and worries seemed a little less daunting. He was your light in the darkness, your comfort in the storm. With him, you felt that you could face anything.

an: this was kinda short but i hope you felt what im trying to show. i love precious yongbok it hurts.

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coff33andb00ks · 5 months ago

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3am - LN & OP

lando norris x oscar piastri

summary: look at the stars, look how they shine for you warnings: angst, pining, not proofread songs: yellow and fix you by coldplay coldplay is landoscar coded wordcount: 1.3k a.n.: writing this in the hopes landoscar get out of my brain… shout out to the four moots that encouraged this. also not tagging anyone because it's 2:30am and I'm exhausted.

He can't sleep. It isn't unusual, his insomnia tend to rear its ugly head when he least needs it. He only wishes he could prepare in advance, that it was a cycle that he could predict and plan for, like his sisters with their apps that are set to warn the entire family when their PMS is approaching.

Dragging a hand over his face, he glares at the ceiling. Great. Now he's thinking about his sisters' cycles.

There's nothing for it but to just get up. No use fighting it and tossing and turning, that only leads to—

A husky moan. Teeth sinking into the lip he'd just sucked. Jaw carved from the gods' finest marble clenching.

"Lan…"

Cinnamon and mint.

Dreams that will never come true.

He presses his hands to his face, hunching over on the side of the bed. The hotel room is too small, too warm, too—

Lonely.

"Fuck this," he hisses, on his feet and snatching up his hoodie.

Torture. He willingly submits to it, knowing it will only leave him feeling hollow and alone when he returns to his room. But it's all he has. All he can cling to on a night like this, when the voices and thoughts won't stop, when the butterflies and bees are swarming inside him.

When the doubts and the worries rise over the shoddy façade of outgoing and joyful, there's only one thing that can quell them.

One person.

He's pinned his hopes all on someone who can never fully know the truth. The one person who understands him best, who knows him better than he does himself, whose name he proudly wears on his wrist.

The last person he wants to lie to, but shields the truth from.

The truth. The tiny, glowing ember of good sentiment that has somehow been crafted among the ruins of his fractured existence. He holds it closer to his heart than his very soul, fearful of it dying if revealed to a cruel world. Or, worse, an uninterested recipient.

He stares at the door. It's – he pulls his cracked phone from his pocket – almost three in the morning. Horrible friend, waking him this time of night.

A muffled sound. A footstep or a chair sliding under a table. His rounded shoulders straighten, his lowered head lifts.

He knocks. Just twice, like he always does when it's just him. If someone was with him it would be incessant. Knockknockknockknockknockknockknock— fucking hell, what?!

The door opens and he breathes in shampoo and lingering steam.

The universe hates him sometimes.

"Lando?"

One day, the sound of his name in that voice won't make his heart do that weird flippy thing. One day, it won't make his lip quirk up into a half smile. One day, he won't sigh.

Not today. Not tonight.

"Osco."

Osco. Osc. Os. Oscar looks at him with that confused pinched brow that immediately relaxes.

What's it like, to really be seen?

Heartbreaking.

Oscar steps back without a word and weak legs carry him into the mirror of his room. The bed is messy and it makes his stomach clench.

Dreams.

"Sor—"

He quiets with a look. He ducks his head, picking at his fingers. He wants to apologize again, for apologizing to begin with, and he wants to apologize once more for always needing to apologize, for being such a fucking mess that he is standing here in Oscar's hotel room at 3am instead of sleeping peacefully in his own.

"Tell me about it?"

Not what's wrong. Not why are you here. Never leave me alone.

Always tell me about it. Share your worries, lean on me, I'm your friend and your teammate, you're not doing this alone.

"I don't…" Wanna talk about it. Just let me stand here. Bask in the calming glow of your star until I can pretend to be a human again. "I don't… Why are you up?"

Oscar shrugs. His smile is faint. "Had a feeling."

"Oh." Oh. Because he hears the unspoken words, feels the unspoken sentiment.

Had a feeling you'd need me, so I waited up for you.

He wants to cry because no one else cares enough to wait up for him.

"Oh."

His face looks haunted, his eyes like they may produce tears at any second.

Heart in his throat, he sits on the bed. He knows better than to prod, knows all too well that the golden man standing by his suitcase will snarl and bite when provoked. So he waits.

Watching.

He's tense, his deceptively lean frame giving off waves of stress and worry and—

"Can't sleep," Lando whispers.

Exhaustion.

He nods, even though Lando isn't looking at him. Except he is, he can see his reflection in the mirror. Stormy green eyes are watching him, as though he holds all the answers to the world's problems.

Or, if not the world's, Lando's.

Same thing.

"I'm worried about tomorrow." A humorless, breathy exhalation that passes for a chuckle. "Today."

He's been worried since Austria. His insecurities are rising after simmering since Miami when the world's stage witnessed his greatness.

If I don't keep winning how can I prove I'm worthy?

If I don't glow for the world how can anyone love me?

"I hate Silverstone," he breathes.

Not the PR lie, about how special his home track is, the memories he has of it as a child, how the crowd gives him an indescribable energy. He hates it for the expectation. It's his home race so he has to perform well. His car has to be the fastest, the strats have to be impeccable, because he can't let the people that believe in him down.

Worse, he can't let himself down, as he's been doing for two months.

Oscar's heart splinters. No one will ever be as hard on Lando as Lando. No one takes on the blame for an entire team, an entire grid, like the man turning and sinking onto the bed.

Not the golden man the fans and media see, but the shy boy Oscar knows better than he knows himself. The perfectly imperfect extroverted introvert with a heart as pure as the twinkling stars in a night sky. The favorite child still terrified of disappointing his parents, the favorite brother that cries when has to miss an important milestone.

There's a space between them and before the billions of reasons he shouldn't come to mind Oscar closes it. The stars are there, twinkling still, shielded behind a cloud. Their arms touch and he wishes he could exhale and send the clouds away. He can't though, so he sits and waits, umbrella at the ready, an open ear and a sturdy shoulder.

It's a small percentage of what he's willing to give.

It's all that's wanted.

"Tell me I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid."

His shoulder's round and he's staring at his hands. Picking at his fingers. Knee bouncing.

Pure frenetic energy.

Oscar watches the knee and the fingers. Sees his own hand reach out.

Cool fingers, warm hand. Pale over gold.

Chins lift, heads swivel.

Mint eyes. Worry and heartbreak spill over and his own name is a whispered prayer.

Osco.

"You're not stupid," he says. The floodgate opens. "You don't have to believe that. I'll believe it for you until you're ready. I'll believe in you when you can't. I'll stay up 'til 3 so you can rest. And I'll provide the words you pretend to not remember."

That you started doing to make me feel needed. It worked. And now I know you do need me but more importantly I need you.

Golden fingers spread, slotting between his.

The clouds thin and the stars shine brighter than ever.

#f1 #f1 imagine #lando norris #oscar piastri #landoscar #lando norris x oscar piastri #my writings > landoscar

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faith369 · 10 months ago

Note

I don’t wanna be a bother but just wondering if you could write about reader x könig with reader being in their mid or early 20 with daddy issues and meeting könig who’s in his late 30’s to early 40’s?

Whoever wrote this thank you for giving me a brainrot I wanna write more about this, so if anyone has more ideas my requests are open <333

König x fem!reader (warning: mdni, nsfw tiny bit at the end)

Overwhelming was the best way to describe what you felt, also unable to process any thoughts. It felt wrong to be here, to sit here, and to consider that the handsome older guy next to you wanted to take you out.

"Are you good?" The hint of worry that König carried in his voice made your stomach churn. You just nodded in response, afraid that you'd stumble over your words and make a fool of yourself. You hadn't expected him to ask you out. He was a regular at the coffee store you worked at, and while your eyes were almost glued to the tall brute every time he came, you didn't dream of thinking that he was doing the same in any form, especially because you thought he was married due to the fact that he was in his late 30s but he wasn't, and now you were sitting in his car on the way to some restaurant that sounded too expensive for you to be able to pronounce. The sudden hold of the car pulled you out of your thoughts, and the hand on your chin that made you face him made your cheeks turn red.

"I don't believe you, tell me what's on your mind." exposed was the next thing you felt. You didn't know what to tell him. Hey, there is this slight chance that I got daddy issues that not only made me be attracted to guys twice my age but also become nervous the second one gives me attention, nope. You just couldn't mess this up. It was almost ridiculous to be scared that he would leave you, yell at you, but still, that fear lingered deep inside of you crawling its way up.

"Uhm, I'm just nervous, you know," he saw through you. He knew you weren't telling the whole truth, but was also aware that calling you out would only make you more uncomfortable. Instead, he leaned over the console, near enough for you to feel his warm breath on your face and see the tiniest speck of yellow in his blue eyes.

"Don't worry, liebling, I will take care of you if you let me, you won't have to worry about a thing"

Heat spread across your body, one that settled in your stomach. You shouldn't get attached this was the first time you saw him outside of work. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't help it, he made you want to listen to him, let him take care of you.

Oh and König was more than aware of what he was doing, the way you reacted to him caused his cock to stir in his pants and a hunger to appear that he was afraid wouldn't leave.

Me daddy issues nooo

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11rosebunny · 7 months ago

Note

Bofurin and breakup(end of a relationship). Glass is not always good, but it is also necessary, isn't it?

Breaking up (BOFURIN)

-Decided to split this up into two parts.

Haruka Sakura

In reality, Sakura is the type of person to be the one asking to breakup, even if you wanted to as well.

His reason for breaking up is due to the fact he finds himself too caught up in his High school, looking after the town, being the class representative, and following the orders from the higher-ups in the school is an overload of work and he constantly finds himself stuck on trying to find time with you.

It got really bad, sometimes he wouldn't speak to you for two whole days. Not even a single text or a call to see what you were doing and he explains that he was tied up in a fight during that time. It's come to a point where he hasn't shown affection to you in so long to where you've forgotten how his touch was. In doing so, you're the one that breaks up with him.

At first, he's shocked to hear the words coming out of your mouth, saying you want to breakup, thinking about what could have possibly gone wrong. But when he recalls all his moments spent together with you, not even he can remember the last time he saw you smile.

He puts on a poker face and understands your wishes to depart from him, so when you two agree to finally put an end to your relationship, he walks away and continues with his life.

For the first few days of being separated for, a tiny part of him winces when he thinks about how awful he treated you. He tries to get it off his mind by going out with his friends more often and submerging himself into events even though he acts like he doesn't want to be there. It's only at night when he's alone in his room does he think about you. He can't believe that he thought your relationship with him was doing well and nothing was wrong. When the memory of your first date pops in his head as he lay in bed looking the ceiling, only then he remembers the swollen face of yours due to how much you were laughing with him. They way both your hands intertwined together for the first time, and the moment where he saw you and looked at you.

'She's everything to me.' He thought in a daze.

Now that he was all alone once again, he turned away and shut his eyes and began to feel the ache in his chest for the first time in years.

Hajime Umemiya

It would be impossible for you to breakup with him. He's possibly the best boyfriend you've ever had in your life. He's respectful, understands your feelings, learns about you the most than anyone has in your entire life. So what could have possibly driven the both of you away?

The answer: University.

You met each other in your third-year, everything up till that time was amazing, it seemed like nothing could separate the both of you. But when life continues, so does after High school when you two are found deciding your feature careers. And sadly, they didn't match up. His pathway was way far off yours to what you wanted to pursue. The both of you knew of that but with very little time left you had with each other, you pushed it away and left that for last.

The deadline was coming up, and the last few days of summer was to be gone. Eventually, he did have that beach party where he wanted everyone to come. It was something so surreal to him, a core memory of his he would like to think about the future to tell his kids. However, he knows they could never be yours.

The moment when the party dies down, and all take their leave, now it's just you two—sitting on the beach, watching the sunset hues cover the sky look into a beautiful shade of an orangey-yellow colour illuminating in both of you eyes. Sitting next to each other, side by side as you watch the sun take its leave. But when will you?

It's silent. He knows it's not the time to speak and splurge out any unethical topics. And so he sits there, waiting for something to happen, although, he dreads for anything to happen.

He knows it's his last time with you. When the silence overtakes everything, he grows sick of the deafening waves crashing against one another loudly as the wind propels your hair. He takes this chance and looks at you. And there he catches a glimpse of sorrow in your eyes. He widens his eyes slightly at the way tears begin to cloud your vision.

It took a while for any of you to speak until he broke it.

"It was fun today. Very fun." His voice was low. It didn't sound like his usual tone. Instead, it was replaced with an ordinary tone.

It was then, you let your tears go wild. The sounds of your choked breathing going rapid and sniffles filled his ears painfully as you tried to wipe away your tears each time managed to escape. But with the amount of liquids that spewed from your eyes, it was impossible to reach for each one and take them away.

A regretful smile plastered his face as he brought you closer to him, wrapping a hand around your back and placing his hand on your waist to bring you in.

"Ah, there's no need to cry [Name]..." Your cries grew louder as soon as he started speaking. It was amazing how he didn't burst out into tears right now. Your hands covered your face as you weeped noisily.

"But tomorrow, is..."

"I know."

Your cries went quieter. Once again, silence overtook the both of you.

"It's okay, we'll meet again." He said. This time, when he turned to look at you, you looked back and there he witnessed the features on your face sunkissed by the golden hues.

"But when?" You asked with glassy eyes. The breeze of the winds blew roughly on the both of you. Both your hairs flowing in the wind just like the first time you met each other. Then you noticed the way his pupils watered his vision.

"When the universe brings me to you again."

Toma Hiragi

Your relationship with him began to falter. Both of you were aware when it started to fall apart, with the daily arguments over little things that could have easily been solved, the way he grew distant and stopped checking up on you decreased drastically in the same way you have been ignoring his texts and calls for hours till you felt like it was the right time to speak to him again.

In beginning, everything was alright—amazing even. With the way you two hung out everyday, called each other every night, and walked to school each morning, it slowly turned into vacant little argument about waking up a little too late, not replying fast enough, miscommunication, and jealousy issues in his side of the relationship.

He started to become a bit possessive of you and controlling, to where it felt like you couldn't speak to anyone and had lost many of your friends due to him not liking some of them. He didn't see anything wrong with it until your arguments with him had the tendency to increase into an even uglier fight between the both of you.

You had gotten sick of all the sleepless nights of crying and wondering if he still cares about you, so when you meet up with him for the last time asking him to speak about your relationship with him, he is terrified. Before meeting with you, he knew by the tone of his voice something bad was going to approach him, and he knew he couldn't do anything about that.

So when the both of you stood under the tree where you two met for the first time, he feels his heart drop when you say you want to breakup. He mentally prepared himself that it was coming and this was one of the few times where he didn't care about the anger that brewed from his behaviour, but now he was seen as the most fragile person ever when he had no other choice but to accept your wishes.

He doesn't walk you home anymore and instead watched you walk away from him for the last time. He doesn't look away, not till you've completely disappeared from his sight otherwise if he were to look away, he's afraid that he won't see you ever again.

As soon as he gets home, he barricades himself on his room, deciding to not eat dinner that day after your last encounter with him. He goes on his phone and the first thing he sees in the wallpaper of you and him sitting on a bench watching the sunset go down. He takes in your features with cold eyes, the way you're kissing his cheek in the photo as he cheekily smiles.

'Wow.' He thought. He remembers how happy he was during that date and cracks a smile to himself. Until he realizes, you're no longer here anymore, and there was nothing he could do to stop you from leaving.

After all, he knew he was the reason why you were driven away.

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the-solar-system52 · 7 months ago

Text

TPOH UPDATE THEORY

TPOH UPDATED AND YOU BETTER BELIEVE I HAVE THEORIES!!

So! Negative talking with the Butterfly definitely did something to him. Maybe he recognised their voice? Or he looked at him directly in their eyes? Some people have proposed the idea that Anxiety blinded Negative, and if that's the case, then I wonder how long the effect will last.

The Butterfly gave him a flashback to his human life, and I'm guessing its one that includes the Butterfly.

Its hard to make out, but we see a human hand extending out, and text that says "WAIT! Don't lea-" (I'm guessing 'don't leave') and "What do you say? We got a deal?"

What's even more interesting, is that RGB didn't get this flashback when he came into contact with the Butterfly. Only Negative did.

This tells us two major things:

The Butterfly used to be a human and they knew Human RGB

2. Negative has access to memories of their life that RGB doesn't

Starting with the first one, I think I'm beginning to figure out just what happened between Butterfly and RGB.

It all starts with this infamous page. The Butterfly gave RGB a schism, which caused him to get a flashback. In this flashback, he is in a backstage acting room (judging that there's one of those fancy mirrors with the lights on them in the background) and he looks very tired and angry. He then tells whoever he is talking to that he hates them.

I assume that this is RGB talking to whoever the Butterfly used to be.

In the lastest update, the flashback gives off similar vibes. RGB and The Butterfly make a deal, but there is also text ("Don't leave") that implies one of them is backing out of the deal. I'm not exactly sure who is who in this situation though.

Either way, RGB did something that really pissed off the Butterfly enough for them to still be mad at them in The Land of Make Believe.

My assumption is this:

As we know, RGB was an actor. So I'm guessing The Butterfly was either an actor, director, or any professional job that would give them the opportunity to meet RGB.

Just like the Butterfly is trying to partner with Negative in this scene, Human Butterfly had a partnership with Human RGB long ago. I'm not sure what it was, but I'm guessing it was related to acting. (It also could've been romantic. Or both. RGB already has like three partners, I wouldn't put it past him.) But the Butterfly messed something up so badly that is caused RGB to get mad and call off the partnership, which is the scene we see on the "I hate you" page. The Butterfly begged RGB to stay ("Wait! Don't leave.") but he didn't.

This may have led to consequences that ruined the Butterfly's career. Either way, they were so hurt by this that they still resent RGB to this day. I have no clue how The Butterfly made it to The Land of Make Believe, since I don't think they were a hero, but it was probably something to do with how RGB treated them.

So when The Butterfly asked Negative for a partnership again, not knowing who Negative was, he got a flashback.

The colours that come out of Negative's vents are Red and Yellow, Anger and Anxiety. Both emotions fit perfectly with this situation.

(Or I could be totally wrong. Since I don't know who's who, it could be the BUTTERFLY saying 'I hate you' and RGB saying 'Don't leave.' But I think the first version fits better with the overarching theory I have. So I'll assume RGB is saying 'I hate you' unless proven otherwise.)

Please let me know if anyone has anything to add to this theory! I think I'm really getting close to figuring this stuff out but there's still some stuff I'm confused on.

Onto the second thing!

I've already talked about this a lot in this theory, but I'd like the expand on it a bit. That theory is slightly outdated since now we know The Butterfly doesn't know who Negative is, but I think I was on the right track.

When RGB and Negative split, Negative took some of RGB's memories with him. (That, or whatever memories RGB sold to Time were given to Negative. I haven't decided yet but either way Negative has some of RGB's lost memories.)

Since RGB and Negative used to be a whole person as a human, parts of their personality in the flashbacks are influenced by both RGB and Negative.

More than that, we have visual identifiers as to which personality is being portrayed in these flashbacks!

When Human RGB's eyes are covered and we see his mouth, it's RGB's memory. Since his TV self has a mouth and no eyes. This means RGB is the one having the flashback and the memory has him displaying more 'RGB-esque' personality traits. Like, in this scene, sleeping on the job and being woken up by a colleague is definitely something I imagine RGB doing, but no so much Negative.

When Human RGB's mouth is covered and we see his eyes, it's Negative's memory. Since his TV self has an eye and no mouth. In this scene, he is displaying more 'Negative-esque' personality traits. He is being confrontational and cold, and straight up telling someone he hates them. That doesn't sound like something our resident coward RGB would do.

And to add to this, blue roses show up as this flashback happens. This memory belongs to Negative, but RGB is viewing it because of his schism. And as I've said before, his schisms/gaps are definitely related to Negative.

So when they split, their human memories and personality traits were split up between them.

I really hope I am right, because I LOVE this facial feature detail! The fact we never see his full face at once gives the impression of him not being 'complete' bc he's not! He's literally being split into two people, so his face was split accordingly. Genuinely a genius visual metaphor on Mod's part. And it really makes me wonder if we will see his full face if RGB and Negative ever fuse back together again.

It's something to keep in mind for the next flashback!

As for the lastest memory, I'm not sure if it's Negative or RGB's, since we don't see their face. It's a possibility it is either a shared memory or RGB's memory that Negative is viewing, which would explain why it messes up Negative so much. And why we see some of RGB's colour return to him.

And what on earth is happening to Negative here? At first I thought he was going to faint and allow RGB to return, but now I'm not sure. Yes he is disoriented, but I think he'll be sticking around for just a bit longer. The blue roses haven't popped yet, and they tend to do that when he leaves. And I'm hoping he'll get a little more screentime since they still need to escape the house and everything, but I won't jinx it.

And what's with the yellow root in his leg? Those roses are mysterious as fuck, and I wanna find out what they'll do to him. I am still trying to figure out wether Negative completely controls them, or if they kinda have a mind of their own. They could make him stronger or make him weaker. They could charge that static electricity again. They could do something to his gaps. Who knows! But I'll be back next Sunday to figure it out.

#tpoh #the property of hate #tpoh rgb #tpoh negative #rgb #tpoh negative rgb #negative rgb #tpoh theory #tpoh speculation #tpoh update #tpoh anxiety #that darned butterfly

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marlynnofmany · 8 months ago

Text

Monkey Chase

I stepped off the loading ramp and got a good view of the reason why we’d landed in the wrong part of the spaceport. A giant cargo hauler lay on its side, broken and bent — had a ship crashed into it, or had the engine exploded? I couldn’t tell from here — and large slabs of spaceship insulation gel sprawled everywhere. The hauler’s cargo, clearly. As I watched, three people with a hovercart tried to shove one aside to no effect, and another slab as big as a cross-section from my old apartment on Earth slowly peeled off from inside the remains of the hauler. It hit the ground with the squishiest thud I’d ever heard - the thing was the color of smoke, but dense enough to make the ground vibrate from here.

I whistled, then regretted it when the tentacle alien on the ramp beside me scrunched up at the sound. “Sorry,” I told Mur.

“Ow,” he said, uncurling his blue-black tentacles. “Was that a human swear? It’s sharp.”

“More of a ‘wow-look-at-that’ kind of noise,” I said. “But swearing would sure be appropriate. What a mess.”

“You said it. Glad it’s not our problem.”

Captain Sunlight came down the ramp to join us, regal as ever in the bright yellow scales that had given her the name. “Our client isn’t answering,” she said. “I’ve put in a request at the local medcenter to see if they’ve been injured in this crisis, but haven’t heard back yet. Anyone interested is welcome to join me in walking over to where their ship was meant to be parked.”

Three other crewmates followed her out of the ship: Blip and Blop in their flowiest silks that both matched their fin colors and also showed off their biceps, and Zhee with his purple exoskeleton as shiny as always. They all made quiet noises of dismay at the state of the spaceport.

(Well, Blip and Blop seemed dismayed. Zhee was looking down his nonexistent nose at whoever had been careless enough to cause such a mess.)

Mur waved a tentacle. “Lead the way,” he said to the captain. “Here’s hoping the ship isn’t buried under all that.”

“Yeah, it looks heavy,” I said as we moved out. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a little ship could be crushed under that, especially if it also took damage from whatever kaboom happened in the first place.”

As we got closer, I made several observations in a range of importance. A medical shuttle was zipping off toward the city center while another appeared to be waiting around just in case; the medics were standing there chatting instead of tending to anyone. The gel slabs couldn’t be pushed, though they could be lifted with a big enough gravity platform. There was only one of those here. Cleanup was going to take a while. The slabs covered a large area of ground as well as a couple ship-sized lumps, turning the spaceport into a sea of smoky gray translucent rubber.

A small creature bounced around on it. People were shouting about that.

“What’s going on over there?” I asked.

Captain Sunlight sighed deeply and sped up. “I really hope that’s not our cargo.”

“Our cargo’s an animal?”

“Yes, among other things. I thought I told you, but I guess not; it was a last-minute addition to our load. Someone’s exotic pet.” She looked up at me with concern on her lizardy face. “How are your animal-catching skills?”

“Depends on the animal,” I said, squinting at the fast-moving thing. I was the critter expert on the ship, but I didn’t want to promise anything. “What species is it?”

“I’ll bring up the description in a moment,” Captain Sunlight said. “I think I see our client over there.”

She was right. The slender Frillian with a leash and an exasperated expression did turn out to be the person we’d come to meet, and the various spaceport officials on the scene had no any easy answers about how to catch his pet.

“Normally he comes running for food!” the client exclaimed. “But he’s got plenty to pick from here!” He pointed accusingly at the spill of fruit from a truck smashed open by a slab of gel.

“Oh, like that’s my fault?” said a Heatseeker who was busy gathering fruit. “Half my stock is ruined! Go catch your little menace and stop complaining.”

This led to a rant about how impossible the menace in question was to catch when he didn’t want to be — giving him a bath had to be done by trickery — and he was never going to come down from this playground full of food, and oh the man should have just paid for a transit that allowed him to bring pets.

Zhee muttered agreement at that last, but I don’t think the guy heard him. Spaceport officials offered calming words and a reminder that nets had been sent for.

Captain Sunlight asked one of them, “Is there an animal-handling service anywhere nearby?”

“Nowhere close,” was the answer.

She looked back up at me. “Any bright ideas? Here, I’ll show you the description.”

While she unfolded a screen and brought up the information from this particular courier gig, I watched the jumpy creature carefully. He was close enough for a good look now, since he’d come back to snatch another alien citrus off the ground, making the owner yell after him.

My first thought was “monkey,” followed by “frog.” The animal was long-limbed and green, though with velvety fur instead of an amphibian’s shine, and had a tail that could hold fruit just as well as his hands could. Pointy nose, round ears, and the biggest eyes of anyone here except for Zhee. He could probably see a person sneaking up from behind. He was fast. And he was clearly having a great time jumping from one bouncy surface to another, making chattering noises and spitting citrus peel everywhere.

“It’s called a treeleaper,” Captain Sunlight told me. “Warmblooded, diurnal, omnivorous, and ‘a bit of a troublemaker.’”

Mur snorted. “Sounds like your species,” he told me.

“Just with a tail,” Zhee added.

“I wanted a tail as a kid,” I said absently, thinking hard. I’d just caught sight of a shipful of humans disembarking nearby, on the other side of the biggest pile of gel. They looked like they were in pretty good shape. One was already walking on the gel and laughing about the bounce.

I had an idea. “Excuse me, Captain. I think I see reinforcements,” I said, then ran off toward my unsuspecting kinfolk. When I got close, I took great pleasure in yelling, “Hey humans! Who wants to help me chase a monkey across a trampoline??”

They were all smiles and questions, then when I led the way to where they could see the monkey-frog jumping around with stolen fruit, they volunteered immediately.

“I’ll get the small cargo net!”

“Do you think the big gravity wands will slow it down?”

“Bet you a cleaning shift that I can grab it in a towel.”

“You’re on!”

I told Captain Sunlight that I had successfully recruited some animal-catchers, and she didn’t bat an eye, just suggesting that our crew gather similar tools from our own ship. Zhee and the twins rushed off while Mur stayed to yell suggestions.

The other humans were already venturing into the bounce zone. I hurried to follow, grabbing a fist-sized lime thing from the ground as I did. We made a wide circle before closing in.

The treeleaper saw us coming, of course. Threw a half-eaten fruit at one person and made a rude noise at another, then sprang up to ricochet between surfaces like an unholy pinball.

Thus began a merry chase.

It brought back memories of bouncy houses and birthday parties at the trampoline gym. The gel was tough enough to take an impact without doing more than denting briefly and launching a person hooting into the air, to rebound off another surface and hopefully not smack into anyone else in midair. There were a couple close calls. But that just made everything funnier somehow.

I jumped off one gel wall with and hit another with my shoulder, making the monkey-frog turn a 180 back towards a pair of guys with gravity wands. He tried to spring away to the side, but I threw my lime to bounce off a surface nearby, spooking him enough to change direction yet again. Somebody slid down a gel slab like a rubbery playground slide, yelping as that turned into a wild tumble. The animal didn’t know what to make of all the flailing and laughter. His hesitation was enough for the gravity wands to lift him partway off the gel, then when he stuck a leg out far enough to jump free, he was immediately bagged by a grinning lady with a cargo net.

Everybody cheered.

The treeleaper growled and tried to scramble free, but no luck. Somebody else caught up and helped tie the net off with a scarf. Everyone settled down to minimal bouncing, and many hands worked together to carry the bundle of ropes and disgruntled animal back to solid ground.

“You got him! Is he okay? He didn’t sprain anything in that net, did he? I hope he didn’t eat too much fruit. He’ll do that if given the chance, you know.” The owner was grateful and worried and relieved and talkative.

Eggskin had arrived from our ship with a medical scanner, and thankfully they could put everyone’s mind at ease about the state of our animal cargo. The treeleaper was fine. It had a stomach full of fruit and a bloodstream full of adrenaline, but all it needed was a nice nap in its carrying cage.

I considered asking why it hadn’t been in the carrier before, when the rented shuttle got its windows smashed, but I didn’t.

A small hand patted my back, as far up as it could reach. “Earning your keep once again,” said Captain Sunlight.

I laughed. “That was my pleasure.”

Another human lingering nearby asked, “Is there anything else that needs catching? That was great.”

“Yeah, you should sell tickets to this!” agreed another.

A Frillian in a port uniform said, “No, but thank you.” She paused, then added, “Hm. I wonder if that’s worth suggesting to the owner of all this insulation. It’s useless for its intended purpose now that it’s breached the sanitation shielding.”

I smiled. “It still makes an excellent trampoline even with footprints all over it. Lay those out in an empty field and charge people entrance, and they could make back a decent amount of money. You get plenty humans through this port, right?”

The woman who’d caught the treeleaper said, “We’re here early for a family reunion before the big festival, then there are three or four sporting events in a row. Let us know if that does happen, because we can get you a lot of humans interested in jumping on this stuff.”

I had to leave with the animal cargo back to our courier ship, so I didn’t hear how the rest of the conversation went, but I saw the official bring the representative of the hauling group over to meet the humans. He looked very interested in what the spokesperson had to say.

I grinned at the scene as I walked away: the intense conversation in front of the vast playground of bouncy surfaces. I wondered if we’d get a chance to come back for a visit when they got it set up properly.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #and today #humans are space monkeys #who enjoy certain things just as much as the next primate-adjacent entity #add another one to the list of things I've made up that I'd love to do in real life

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bettysupremacy · 1 year ago

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Rafe Cameron x innocent shy! Reader?? Please

Unintended but this is also kind of mean!rafe. Thank you for the request!! i feel like this could be better

When Rafe had come to the balcony of his own house for some peace at his own party, he hadn’t expecting company. Especially not you.

You look lost, in the most literal sense. Short dress and large jacket, he thinks you made a wrong turn and ended up here instead of the country clubs teen night. Sparkling grape juice and cookie platters, not Smirnoff and cocaine.

He’s sure he’s seen you before too, hanging around Sarah’s crowd. Under a pogues arm as they notice him around. Whatever, you’re not with them now, are you?

He bumps his nose twice before speaking up. “You look lost.”

It’s loud, and blunt, but it gets your attention. You startle.

“I’m sorry?”

He stands, taller than you expected, you step back. “I said, you look lost.”

You don’t know what to say to that. “I am.”

Nerves rumble in your tummy as he walks closer, any other words dying in your throat. You know Rafe. You know what people say about him. What your friends say. He’s no good.

“You’re not supposed to be out here.” He looks down on you. Your back touches the bumpy wall panels. “It’s off limits to guests.”

“I’m sorry.” Your hand searches for the door handle but the wall traps you in. “I didn’t know.”

“I can tell.” He eyes your cup, yellow and icy, it doesn’t look like anything he paid Kelce for. It smells sweet. “Is that lemonade?”

Out of his fridge?

“My friend poured it for me.”

“Boyfriend?” You shake your head and he hums, his breath visible in front of him. “Then who’re you with, sweetheart?”

“My friend.” You repeat. “She said we’d only be here a second.”

“And where is she now?”

You shrug. “Think her boyfriend got his hands on her.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” You give him a slow, large, nod. Your hands stuff in your jacket. How did you get into this situation?

“You don’t have anybody getting their hands on you?” Your eyes snap forward. Watching him eye you is like watching a lion circle its prey.

“Am I being interrogated?” You put out weakly.

“I’m sorry.” His eyebrows pull forward, faux sincerity.

You have the feeling he isn’t. “It’s okay.”

“It is?” you nod. “Thank god.”

It gets you. His flirt. Traps you to him like a mouse to a glue pad, and he knows it. He feeds on it. You think he may kiss you when the patio door opens. It’s a shame, you weren’t opposed to the idea.

“Sarah,” Rafe displeases. “I told you to get the fuck out.”

This isn’t the first time Sarah has crashed one of his parties, but it’s the first time she’s come between him and a girl.

“Excuse me,” Her arms cross. “this is my house too.”

“And this is my party,” he stands a little straighter. “Don’t you have your little friends to go to?”

“You’ve taken her.”

He looks back to you, defeat crumpling in his chest. He didn’t want you to go. Leave it to Sarah.

“God, don’t tell me you’ve been harassing her.” Annoyance bubbles an amount only her brother can pull from her.

“I haven’t been harassing anyone.” Rafe gripes. “It’s not my fault you left her.”

“I did not leave her.”

“Oh really?” He scoffs. “So where were you? With Topper? Or have you traded him in already?”

“I’m not doing this with you.” Her eyes flit to you. “Cmon, Y/N, let’s get out of here.”

You push off the wall, tugging your dress down. Rafe wishes you hadn’t. He grabs your wrist before you’re too far, taking the solo cup from your hand and replacing it with his. “You’re gonna need something stronger to deal with her.”

“Haha, so funny, Rafe.”

He shrugs. “Can’t help it.”

#rafe cameron #rafe fic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe cameron x kook!reader #outerbanks fanfiction #outerbanks blurb

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energon-depo · 26 days ago

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WOOO HOO CHARACTER ANALYSIS TIME this is about how optimus sees smokescreen n jack :)

(btw this my first analysis) ANYWAYS LET'S GO

just a heads up this is a LONG LONG POST to get ready! also i HAVENT SEEN THE ENDING OF PRIME YET

okay remember when ratchet said "optimus wasn't always before he was a prime -he was more like jack" AND REMEMBER HOW HE GAVE HIM THE MARTIX KEY? yeah optimus's sees a lot of former self in jack. he CLEARLY DOES same with smokescreen! the first time we saw smokescreen we knew he was a strategist, and prime knew that aswell. when smokey told him he was under the guidance of prime's MENTOR? yeah optimus knew both of them were destined for great things. all they did needed was guidance and maturity. because BOTH did something stupid that was motivated by brashness, remember when Jack was beefing with a bully? he was being immature, BUT he apologized! he took fault for his actions! same with smokey, remember when he took jack(best bros) with him to a mission? yeah well he did and he was sorry! he even apologized to acree directly knowing he scared her the most with that stunt! he didn't even blame jack for going with(he could've, and jack would have gladly took the blame)BUT HE DIDNT! these two know when their wrong and will IMMEDIATELY backpedal if they hurt anyone of their family physically or emotionally! AND THIS IS WERE WE COME TO OPTIMUS! prime knows those two have their heart and spark in the right place, heck! smokey is literally destiny's child. prime REALLY REALLY REALLY sees his former self in these two. and he treated them as EQUALS to team prime not a human child, not a rookie soldier.(could also go for how he treats miko and raf aswell, he sees their potential. miko's high comparison for other's and raf's talent in tech) so when prime gave jack the "ground bridge key"(the matrix key thing), he was confident that jack will not only keep it safe but also figure out what to do with it when the time comes. if he'd given it to let's say acree she would've probably denied it, said ratchet is a better fit due to the fact she has knowledge about it's real purpose. the OTHER reason why he gave it to jack is because; he's a kid, a Human kid, he doesn't know it's real properties. his thoughts were "optimus gave me an important job to keep the ground bridge key safe, with me. I can't let him down" It's his first real solo task! heck he even said "shouldn't ratchet have this?" but prime assured him its his task to bare. as for smokescreen? prime was THIS CLOSE to giving him the matrix. when he was in the worst shape possible and losing hope, he's (nearly) dying words was bestowing smokey with the matrix. smokescreen kept refusing he CAN'T be a prime, if he was a prime that mean optimus is dead and he doesn't want optimus to die, he's his leader, his idol, his hero. he already went out of order with coming back, and he brought optimus the forge of solang(i think? i forgot it's name it the yellow hammer) he's train of thought was "get the hammer from the cons, give to prime, prime fixes himself and its all good!"when optimus told him "the hammer must be used to fix the omega locks -the life of one is not important as the lives of many"[paraphrasing]. smokescreen stuck with his gut, his original train of thought and his compassion for his (found)family. he went out of order again putting the hammer in prime's hand REFUSING that this is the end for Optimus prime. he was rewarded with ya know prime coming back and not dying and practically saving earth basically average day for the goat smokey. i would like to also mention when smokescreen was getting chewed out by acree, prime was trying to get her to stop(no hate towards the based queen acree btw she's awesome) and when smokey stormed off he let him leave, knowing he had some reflecting he needed to do. ALSO when jack backed down from team prime, he understood that, he was upset of course he gotten attached to those humans, but he respected his opinion and didn't force him at all.

Moral of the story prime is best dad, jack and smokey are bros4life and prime team is best family(cheers)

#my dad is best dad though🤫🧏‍♀️#i have the tfp hyperfixation bug and i cant get it out brains explode #also smokey and jack remind me of kai and jay alot with them being best bros and go with eachothers wave length #kai and jay from ninjago that is #words depo #transformers #tfp #transformers prime #tfp optimus #tfp optimus prime #tfp smokescreen #smokescreen tfp #optimus prime tfp #jack tfp #tfp jack #analysis #tfp analysis #long post #team prime

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chxrrysangel · 1 month ago

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Wanna Play a Game ?

Trick | roleplay

Pairing | Dabi x fem!reader

Warnings | i guess dubcon?? but also like not really, knife play, a singular mention of blood/injury, fingering, choking, oral ( m + f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), alluded to aftercare, mask kink lowkey, honorifics, degradation, dabi has a pierced dick bc I said so

A/n | not proofread, we die like men (i'll do it later, i promise)

Wordcount | 3,205 words

The night was dark and quiet, almost too quiet. The whirring of the television and your intermittent gasps of fright was music to his ears. Hellraiser had never been a favorite franchise, but with everyone raving about the reboot you decided to give it a shot. If you were being honest, Odessa A’zion was the sole reason for giving it a chance. The music took a turn, suspense making your heart race with anticipation.

Ring Ring

A yelp left your lips before even registering the sound of the phone. It was unlike anyone to call this late, small town and all. Everything closed at like 8pm, as if everyone old or young had an early bedtime. It was almost as comical as it was annoying. Shaking hands unclipped the device from its receiver, listening for the connection to stabilize.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Who is this?”

You scoffed. “I think you have the wrong number.”

There was a small beat of silence before the receiver picked up sound.

“Do I?” Who is this guy?

“Yes you do. I’m hanging up, have a nice night.” You ended the call, feeling a sense of unplaced fear. With a small town like this, everyone still used the yellow pages. The possibility of dialing the wrong number was pretty low. Continuing the movie, your mind wandered to oggling Odessa and Drew’s characters, the stranger on the phone long forgotten.

Ring Ring

Not even bothering to press pause, you picked up the house phone with clear exasperation.

“Yes, can I help you?”

“I’m sorry.” It was the same strange voice.

“You called me again to apologize?” Some time between your question and the awaited response, a character on the screen screeched in pure terror, catching you off guard.

“Yes I did. Are you watching a scary movie?”

“...yes I am. And I’d like to get back to it.”

“Do you like scary movies?”

“Some of them.” You figured that by keeping your answer short, he would eventually get bored and hang up.

“Which ones?”

“Jennifer’s Body. Scream. Chucky. Ones like that.”

“You have good taste, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, I’m hanging up now if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind, actually.”

“Well, I’m sorry but that’s too b–”. Your sentence was interrupted by a loud banging on the front door. Tentatively, you tiptoed towards the peephole and looked through to see nothing.

What the fuck?

You turned around to a dark kitchen, making you shriek. The television flickered back and forth on its own, fear and bile rising up your throat. The stranger on the other line seemed irrelevant at this point, too caught up in the strange sight before you. To make matters worse, the pounding on the front door returned, shaking you to your core.

“Who is it?” There was no response, which only scared you more. With shaking hands, you opened the door and peered outside. The porch was empty, just as you had expected. You tried to calm your heart, deciding to worry about all of this another time. Every instinct you had escaped you, the naivete of a small town making you less cautious than you probably should be. You shook your head, closing the door to return to your movie.

Except the door got caught on something.

A foot to be exact.

Your eyes bulged out at the sight of the mystery black boot, fearing who could possibly be attached to it.. Your entire body shook with pure terror, a tall stranger looming over you in a mask. His head tilted in animalistic curiosity, unmoving but frightening all the same.

“Did no one ever tell you the first rule of scary movies, sweetheart? Don’t open the door for strangers.” He chuckled darkly, stepping over the threshold as you stupidly stepped backwards. Despite everything in your body telling you to run, it was like you were frozen in place. The large man clicked his tongue with disapproval, seemingly at your lack of instincts. A gloved hand came up to your face, grabbing onto your jaw to hold you in place. You could feel his warm breath on your cold skin with his increased proximity, fanning your ear while he whispered.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing home alone, hm?” A tear fell down your cheek, too frozen with fear to respond or do anything else. He backed up a few spaces, watching you stand helplessly like a gazelle caught in the lion’s den.

“Not gonna run from me? But that’s no fun.” He sounded sickeningly disappointed, which only worsened your anxiety of what was to come. It was at this moment you noticed something shining in his other hand, your eyes widening as you identified the foreign object. He seemed to put two and two together, bringing the blade up to your face.

“Oh sweetheart, don’t worry ‘m not gonna kill ya, not yet at least.” You’d almost think he was sincere if the circumstances were different. Even behind a mask, his smile was evident.

As if some higher power guided you to sanity, you suddenly developed a sliver of bravery. So you ran, as fast as your feet could carry you without wasting a single moment to look back. Haphazardly you ran into your bedroom and slammed the door, searching frantically for a hiding spot. The closet seemed like your best option, having no time to think of something better. You waited there, breathing as quietly as you could muster given the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’ve never felt fear quite like this moment, which could very easily be your last. For a few minutes the house was virtually silent, but you couldn’t be stupid enough to be lured out under false pretenses. It was never that easy. Suddenly your bedroom door slammed open, the stranger walking into your safe space. His large boots made impressions into the carpet with each step, a faint eerie whistle being heard under his mask.

“Honey, I know you’re in here. Can’t hide from someone like me, baby.” A light shined in your face, blinding you as the closet doors opened.

“There you are.” How someone whose eyes can’t be met could be so terrifying was incredible.

You begged for your life, feeling so unlike yourself. It was an out-of-body experience, kissing the boots of a stranger and begging him not to kill you. The coldness of his blade pushed up your chin, forcing your eyes towards where you assumed his own sat.

“I told you, my sweet, I have much better plans in mind.” He stood much straighter now, towering over your kneeling figure. The cloak he wore earlier was gone, although he kept the mask for obvious reasons.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.” Your eyes flickered down his figure instinctually, catching on the growing bulge beneath his black jeans. He was enjoying this, although not quite in the matter you thought. You hated yourself for the wet feeling growing between your thighs as you stared. He chuckled, entertained by this moment.

“I can see you staring.”

The trance you were in broke, heat breaking out across your cheeks as you averted your gaze.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, honey. I’ve caught you. And I think there’s a solution we both could enjoy.”

The tall stranger didn’t wait for an answer, dropping his knife to begin unbuckling his pants. In one swift movement, his jeans and boxers pooled around his ankles. Purple scarring covered his lower legs, but your eyes could hardly focus on anything other than his dick hanging in front of your face. His tip leaked, red and swollen like it hurt. Metal jewelry glittered in the low light of the room, a jacob’s ladder and prince albert catching your eye. It was embarrassing how interested you were considering the circumstances.

“Now be a good girl and suck.”

Without much hesitation, your outstretched tongue gathers the dripping pearls of precum as you relax your jaw to accommodate him. He was large, much larger than most people you’ve had. The man groaned as his tip hit the back of your throat, a ring-clad coming to place itself on your cheek. On occasion, he thrusted into your mouth, chuckling when you gagged. Tears began to well in your eyes, clouding your vision a bit. Despite his air of dominance, whimpers could be heard beneath the mask, signaling how much he enjoyed this.

“So good, that’s it. F-fuck,” he stuttered. Using your prior knowledge, you began to roll his balls between your fingertips as you sucked him off. His thrusts began to lose rhythm, signaling that he was very close.

“Shit, shit. I’m gonna fucking cum. Stop.” He pulled you off, not allowing you to refuse and push him over the edge.

“Not so fast, pretty girl. Bed, now.”

Not arguing despite instinct saying otherwise, you sat down on the bed and awaited instruction. He didn’t say much, grabbing your arm and turning you to lay on your stomach. A coldness danced its way up your back and down your thighs, making you shiver. The heat from his body radiated off him like a furnace, which only made each anticipatory moment pass by even slower. Eager hands pulled down your shorts, being thrown somewhere behind his shoulder.

“Spread those legs for me sweetheart.” You did as told, hearing a groan in response. Even through the cotton fabric, your pussy shined with arousal, making him more turned on than he thought was possible. Not wasting a single moment, he ran his fingers along your slit and pressed against your clit. He cursed under his breath as you leaned into his touch, desperate for any pleasure he was willing to offer.

“Oh that’s cute.”

He slipped one finger in, meeting little resistance as your cunt sucked him in. It was a sight to behold, making him wish he brought a camera. You mewled below him, ass pushing against his hand as you chased your own pleasure. He chuckled, enjoying how obviously needy you were and the lack of shame you possessed in hiding it. But just as you felt an orgasm approaching, he took his hand away.

“Not yet..” You groaned in frustration, but stayed quiet otherwise.

Dabi spread your legs wide, enough to accommodate his shoulders as he lay beneath you and brought your core to his face. The ball of his apparent tongue piercing rolled along your clit, making you cry out of pleasure.

“F-fuck,” you managed to stutter out. His tongue was gifted, sucking on your clit with just the right amount of pressure to drive someone insane. He wasn’t afraid to be messy, loudly slurping and sucking to the point where it was almost nasty. Dabi pulled your body closer to his mouth, impossibly closer, like he was trying to absorb you. Your hips ground against his face, chasing your slowly creeping orgasm.

“More, need more.” Because you begged so nicely, Dabi obliged your request by curling two fingers into your hole. His thick digits pressed against your g-spot, making your toes curl as you felt your stomach tighten as your orgasm approached. You could only blabber incoherently, speaking words that not even you could bother to understand. All you knew is that you were cumming, quickly. You collapsed on the bed, legs jelly and head fuzzy as you came down.

Dabi couldn’t wait for you to come to, deciding to take matters into his own hands.

He manhandled your frame, pushing your knees into your chest as he pressed his weight against the back of your thighs. The tip of his dick prodded at your entrance, gathering the slick of your cum. Majority of his face remained covered by the mask, but his wicked grin shone brightly in the dimly lit bedroom

There was a level of shame that lodged itself in your chest, embarrassed by how turned on you felt in that moment.

“You’re even prettier in this position.” His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

You could practically feel his cock in your throat as he stretched you inch by inch, agonizingly slow as he watched your features. He could tell you were overwhelmed, which only made him harder.

“Fucking hell,” Dabi whispered under his breath. Killing you would be such a shame now.

His thrusts were slow but methodical, ensuring you could feel every single piercing and vein. His warm breath fanned your face, engulfing you in his scent as he held you close. He smelled like smoke, undercut by the scent of bergamot and the faintest hint of vanilla and mint. It was intoxicating.

“I can feel you squeezing me. Wanna cum already?,” he teased. His tone was wickedly condescending, prompting you to try and hide your face in the sheets.

His strong hand gripped your chin, forcing eye contact. He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“You can’t hide from me, princess. Be a good girl.”

His calloused fingertips rubbed circles against your clit, pushing you further towards the edge. It was almost like he needed you to cum, more than he did. He set a vicious pace, knocking the air from your lungs with every push into the mattress. He pushed your legs further, creating a new angle as your body curled into itself. It hurt so good. Dabi never shied away from being vocal, cursing under his breath as he whined about how good you felt.

He leans down, pulling you into a kiss. It’s neither soft nor caring, purely animalistic as he bullies his tongue into your mouth. The hunger he felt translated across, desperation evident in his forceful thrusts as you kissed back. You attempt to grab his hair, realizing that the mask still covered most of his face. Uncaring, he pulled it off completely, throwing it somewhere in the corner to be searched for later. You taste each other on your tongues, the sin of it all turning you on more. He finally breaks the kiss, out of breath as he chases your lips again before rethinking it.

“I–”, he dives back in for a chaste kiss, “– own –” , another kiss, “–you.” He remains close, practically sharing each breath between you as you stare firmly into his blue eyes. He pulls out, motioning you to turn on to your hands and knees. You did as told, submitting fully. The lack of sight as he shuffled behind you should have been anxiety-inducing, but it wasn’t.

He dragged the dull edge of his knife down the indent of your spine, the most gentle of pressure enough to leave goosebumps in its wake. But as he reached the curve of your lower back, he pressed inward, pushing the blade into your skin until it broke. You felt a pinch that quickly flowed into a sharp ache as small droplets pooled on the surface of your back.

He hushed your panic, pushing your head back down to lay against the mattress. The wet muscle of what you quickly realized was his tongue gathered the mess, licking up your back as you shivered.

“I could do horrific things to you.” The darkness in his tone made it abundantly clear that he meant every word. It was exhilarating.

“But first, I wanna play.”

He leaned over as he guided himself inside, meeting no resistance as he bottomed out. His teeth nipped at your ear, a sensitive spot on your part. He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, uncharacteristically gentle.

From this angle he feels so much bigger, knocking the air from your lungs as you’re forced to accommodate his size.

“Fu-” the curse dies in your throat as it turns into a choked gasp.

He brings a hand back to your throat, applying pressure to both sides as he guides you to straighten up against him, making him hit new depths that have you hissing out. You mewl as he continues to thrust at an agonizingly slow pace, make sure you feel everything.

“Look at you, whining like some slut.” He feels you clench at that, smiling into your skin.

You can only moan in response as he slowly pulls back his hips, the ridges of his piercings gliding against your walls.

“You’re pitiful,” he groans into your ear, pressing his fingertips further against your throat, cutting off the circulation for only a moment. “Getting cockdrunk by some guy trying to kill you. You dirty fucking girl.”

You can only continue your pathetic whines, reaching back to grasp onto him for stability.

He slams back in, letting you drop forward. You hardly manage to keep yourself up, limbs jelly and unstable. Each time he snaps his hips forward, the sound of skin slapping ricochets off the bedroom walls around you. He grips your hip bone, forcing your hips to meet every thrust.

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel, baby,” he huffs out, the building orgasm apparent in the slight shake of his voice. “Go ahead, say it.” His balls catch your clit, making your eyes cross as you struggle to stay present.

“So good. Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you answer to best of your ability. Your answer was weak, eyes tearing up as you felt your gut clench. He was ruining you and he knew it. He pulls you back upwards by the throat, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips as he moans into your mouth.

“Say it again. Like you mean it.”

“Fuck, right there, please. Feels so good — ha — I’m so close.”

His fingers connect with your clit, working a mind-numbing pattern that has you nearly slipping out of unconsciousness as his vigorous thrusting returns. It’s harsh, the lines of pain and pleasure continuing to blur as you cum on his cock. Your body tenses in pleasure, everything fading into the background, before releasing as you collapse.

His pace falters as his own orgasm takes over, spilling inside you as he cries out in ecstasy. You couldn’t even be bothered to consider the consequences of that at the moment, trying your best to catch your breath as you laid there together.

Seconds turned to minutes as the reality of the situation passed over you. Dabi had hardly moved, staring at the ceiling as he reminisced on the last hour or so. You turned over to him, checking in on his current state. His blue eyes met yours with soft crinkling at the corners, heavy lidded eyes softening as he stared.

“Come ‘ere,” he whispered. You obliged, leaning in close with the expectation of him wanting to tell you something. Instead he kissed you softly, a sharp contrast to the night’s previous events. He hummed in satisfaction against your lips, before pulling away reluctantly.

“Was I too rough?”

You shook your head assuringly, letting out a few tuts as though he was asking a stupid question.

“Just asking.” He felt equally stupid asking, especially considering it was your idea, but he had to be sure. The bed dipped as he padded over to your shared bathroom, turning on the shower for the two of you. He leaned against the door frame, watching you curl into the sheets as you awaited the inevitable dragging to the bathroom for cleanup.

#dabi x reader #bnha dabi #bnha smut #ghostface!dabi #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki

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hectateovrhere · 2 years ago

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Soul, Body, and all

Pairing: Neteyam x male Metkayina reader, eldest son of Tonowari ( the chief)

Summary: you, the aloof eldest son to the chief, do ( your unexpected friend) Neteyam’s ceremonial paint and things get intimate.

A/N: idk how to write summarys but hopeful the story makes up for it this is more first time posting so hope y’all enjoy :) also I added “lore” just to make it more meaningful. Idk-

There was a comfortable silence that hung over you two. Neteyam sat infront of you his eyes catching every detail of your face. You didn’t know what to say and neither did he. An unspoken bond between you two. You were evasive and slippery you were loved but no one really knew you. The chiefs son was what you were and a great warrior; that’s all the reason your tribe needed to love you. You were adamant on keeping everyone at arms length; you weren’t interested in relationships, even with your siblings. No connections meant no feelings getting in the way of what you believed in. no one could have gotten this close to you but somehow he did.

You traced the structure of his face with white paint sharp and delicate at the same time; he stared as you focused. You place your hand on his shoulder as you got closer you grabbed the yellow paint and outlined his eyes with dots.

“What is the ceremony for?” Neteyam broke the silence

“It’s very spiritual… it allows you to be placed under eywas protection and our protection.” You fingers glided down his neck Neteyam gulped at your touch. “The paint is very important each style is different- they have a unique meaning each of us learn a different technique.”

“What does mine mean?” You pause for a moment coating your hand in pale green paint.

“Kind-hearted. A protector and protected.” You place your hand on his chest you feel his heart beating. “A special soul.” Your painted hand print was left on his chest Neteyam refused to utter a word as if they were jammed in his throat. The wind rushed past you with a whistle and the waves crashed to the shore in a musical pattern.

“Turn around.” You ordered softly now it was your turn to break the silence. He obeyed silently his strong back faced you. Coating your hands once again you place them on his shoulders pushing inward to his shoulder blades replicating that of wings. Your hands halted at his braid.

“Can I?

Neteyam nodded slowly you moved it to the side he shivered as you dotted the outline of his spine.

“The back represents freedom and your choice to look after those around you. A leader. People will follow you anywhere.”

“Will you?” The words slipped through Neteyam’s lips. He cringed at the way it came out like his body reacted on its own ignoring the brain and following his heart. It yearned for you. He failed to figure out how to express it to you and the looming possibility that you didn’t feel the same way terrified him. He couldn’t bare the thought of you slipping through his fingers.

Neteyam’s ears twitched at the way your hands paused. He prepared for the worst. What could you possibly think of an outcast?

“You want me to follow you forever?” You reiterated with a light chuckle; Neteyam flushed he knew it came out wrong. Of course he knew you had your duties you were the chiefs son; you made a promise to your people. He knew all about that; it was him once upon a time. It sounded like he wanted you to run away with him to drop everything and leave.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Neteyam whipped around catching you by surprise you took notice to the distance between you. The short distance you watch his pleading eyes you could tell he was struggling to find the right words to say.

“I want you by my side and I want to stay by yours.” He explained “you’re the only person that makes me feel okay with never going back home. I want to stay with you.”

“What are you saying?”

In that moment time stopped all you could feel were his soft lips on yours. you weren’t sure what to do you’ve never kissed anyone before- you’ve never been this close to someone before. Neteyam was struggling as well both of you unsure about what to do and how to continue but doing it anyway; eventually you got the hang of it syncing with his movements. You could feel his energy enter you, careful not to touch him with your painted hands you attempted to deepen the kiss you wanted to be closer.

Neteyam understood what you wanted and did it for you basically grabbing your head and pulling you towards him. An unfamiliar feeling erupted in your stomach is this what it felt like? To be kissed? You never thought you would experience it. You seen your parents kiss and other people your age do it;but it never interested you. Now you could see why everyone liked to do it; it was nice you felt connected to him like you could feel what he felt, his senses were yours and the world seemed to melt away.

When you both pulled away everything felt cold by the way Neteyam was looking at you he felt the same way.

“Do you understand what I mean now?” He questioned his voice was gentle. you placed your forehead on his; your eyesight being filled with his deep yellow eyes only. You saw him for who he was and all he could be; you saw his heart and mind, his internal battles and his responsibilities. You unraveled before him he saw you, he knew you and you felt free knowing someone finally understood you.

“Neteyam..” you trailed “I see you.”

His eyes widened at your confession “I see you too.”

Your lips met again you held each other delicately disregarding the paint on your hands. this time there was less of a struggle both of you had somewhat of an idea on how to do it; all that mattered was the way it made both of you feel. He caressed every inch of your skin like he had been waiting an eternity to do so. Every inch he followed as if to memorize your body; your skin burned where ever Neteyams wandering fingertips grazed; every touch felt like fire and you savoured every second of it.

Neteyam embraced your warmth accepting it into his body, he could feel your soul. He silently thanked Eywa for guiding him to you this was her plan all along.

He was the only one for you. There was no one else. He was worth losing everything over and you would die before you gave your heart to another. Though you were young; in your heart you knew Neteyam was yours. Soul, body, and all.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x male reader #avatar x you #avatar x male reader #avatar x reader #neteyam sully #lo’ak sully #jake sully #metkayina #metkayina reader #avatar 2 #neteyam x you

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bugsinshoes · 5 months ago

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OKAYOKAYOKAYOAY SOOOOO

i CANNOT stop thinking about musical falls. GENUINELY. it rotted my brain. SO! i've spent a bit of time doodling and coming up with ideas for how BILL would be presented on stage.

firstly, we have 2-D Bill/Pre-Weirdmageddon Bill. the idea i had for this form is that we'd use a spotlight tinted with a yellow gel and on top of that there'd be a gobo (stencil) of Bill's triangular form.

(examples of how that'd look onstage)

pros- spotlights can effortlessly move around stage without physically interfering with actors, also it mirrors how in the show, he's limited to the mindscape and how he doesn't have a physical form yadda yadda yadda (you get my idea)

cons- not much movement/expression. also kind of a disembodied voice? Bill is very expressive so it'd be hard to showcase something like that on a cut out stencil of him.

ANOTHER IDEA (i just had now as i'm writing this): Bill projection !!

so, it'd be a projected image of Bill which would be able to be animated so THAT solves the issue of the previous idea. plus i'm sure there'd be a way to move the projection around the stage if needed.

uhhh anyways !! back to my original ideas !!!!

obviously everything i've just mentioned is for 2-D Bill, but HERE is where it gets exciting. when Bill gains his physical form during Weirdmageddon.

so, when Bill gains a physical form, i had 3 ideas:

IDEA 1- Lin Manuel Miranda as Bill.

now, in my previous post about musical falls, i was kind of /j ing the idea, but i think it'd be genuinely hilarious. imagine this, duing the whole musical, bill is this 2-dimensional projection, kinda eerie. makes you think "how is he gonna look once he gains a physical body?" then BOOM its Lin Manuel Miranda. obviously his costume would be a waistcoat and jacket combo (something similar to how i drew him in my past post) but yeah. that's really the only reason. it'd be funny. idk.

IDEA 2- Puppet Bill.

this Bill would be more canon-accurate, still in his triangle form, except he'd be puppeted by someone. now, this comes with the same problem as gobo-bill. LACK OF EXPRESSION. he's stuck to one emotion/"facial" expression. (also i have no idea how puppets work. if anyone with more knowledge than me wants to add on/constructively criticise, you're welcome to!) i didn't really expand/think too much about this idea either soooo.....

IDEA 3 (my favourite)-

drag. bill.

i really like this idea. now, i'm no costume designer, nor do i do drag (so apologies if i've gotten anything wrong) but i think this would be something really cool to see on stage. the shape language of the costume, alongside a gorgeous makeup look, AS WELL as it being a real person acting, really feels like a good direction to go in, as it would allow full movement, gestures, and expressions !! (hooray!!) also i really need to see an awesome Bill-inspired drag look onstage. it'd be awesome.

ANYWAYS THAT'S IT !! THOSE ARE MY IDEAS !!!

this is all for fun as i KNOW this won't ever become an IRL stage production (probably) but a guy can dream. i just had so much fun coming up with ideas for the heck of it sooo !!!

another MASSIVE thanks to @fordtato for making that video about musical falls. i think i'm obsessed.

AAAA THAT'S ALL !!!! :D

#gravity falls #musical falls revival #bill cipher #yapping #sorry my thoughts are not coherent #i just really had to get my ideas out #i'm sure you guys get it though #right?

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mrsportgas · 4 months ago

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Ghost Ridders Cap.1

#Special Note: Not my pics, all them will be tag to its actual owner. Also not my characters. Please be patient, it´s my first time writing and englihs it´s not my first language. Feel free to interact!!!!

#Summary: Eight years ago, you were taken against your Will to Mary Goise to become the new slave of Saint Roswald, or rather, to living a hell on earth. One day, while you go with him on a visit to a New World´s island in the New World, but a familiar face appears. This creates the perfect opportunity for you to escape, join the Whitebeard Pirates, and discover more about your past, your abilities, and who you really are. All while you try to endure your new crewmate, Portgas D. Ace, who is incredibly annoying... or perhaps incredibly irresistible? You haven't decided yet.

This story is based in the world of One Piece, with the same characters and timeline. Of course, this story is fiction created by me. Some of the timelines, names, and characters might be the same, also some names, characters, stories, or even personalities may be altered. The story is happening pre-time skip, while strawhats are in sabondy for the first time.

The first chapter is an introduction to the current story, which begins with Ace as your central romance. (This romance may shift to other characters as the story progresses, but don't worry, there's still plenty of Ace to come.) The story is written in first person. Female gender, Y/N, but feel free to change the gender, name, or anything else that makes you more comfortable.♡

YOUR POV:

You are walking. Or at least you think so. You don’t remember exactly how long it’s been, but it’s been long time since you’ve been practically going on autopilot. Walking, eating, and just going through the motions.

You just land in an island in the middle of the New World. All because Sand Roswald your lord and celestial dragon wanted to "buy" a jewel for his daughter that was now being sold in one of the best jewelry stores of the Red Line. I say "buy" because, of course, he would take whatever he wanted without caring what the store owner thought, and anyone who got in his way would be the one to lose. Just like what happened to me, but that’s another story.

All I could see were the yellow, worn cobblestones of the main street in the capital. I heard the screams and whimpers of people as they knelt, trying to avoid his gaze, and I could even hear footsteps as people ran, trying to hide somewhere else, trying to stay as far as possible. Mean while, in my head words repeated over and over: “Walk, look down, and everything will be fine.”

After so many years, the Sea Rock shackles hanging in my wrist where like part of my own body; I had learned to live with that weight. With that pain.

MARCO’S POV:

“All this will cost you 200 berris,” said the owner at the medicine shop.

“Alright, give me a second. Ace, hand me the bag.” The silence made me look back; Ace wasn’t there, and somehow I wasn’t surprised. The damn idiot had gotten lost again. I can’t take it anymore. Now I have to go look for him, and to top it all off he took all the money with him.”

The Whitebeard pirates had just landed that day, looking for supplies, and they had to set sail again quickly to complete an important mission. So they had just enough time to grab what they needed and leave.

“My friend has gone with the money; hold this for me, and I’ll be back for it.” Just as the owner was about to respond, a wave of people running and screaming in desperation rushed past the store. “What happened? What’s wrong with the people?”

“From what I understand, a celestial dragon is coming to the city today. If I were you, I’d stay inside until it’s gone. As far as I know, it’s Saint Rosward. They’re one of the cruelest families out there… if any of them could be considered merciful,” the man explained with kindess.

“I don’t have time for that. I need to find my berries and leave as soon as possible. Don’t worry, I’ll be back,” I replied with a friendly smile.

I stepped out into the deserted street. There was no one left; people were either already hiding or kneeling in the main street.

This could be dangerous. I need to be careful. I thought, and that’s when it hit me… If I were Ace, ¿Where would I have gone?… ¡THE MARKET! Which, of course, is on the main street…

Hidden under my cloak and trying not to draw too much attention, I made my way to the main street and knelt down with the rest of the citizens. Moving quickly, I tried to get to the front rows so I could take a better look at the market area. As I got closer, I saw three armed men and a girl in the middle, all at the entrance of a jewelry store. Through the window, Saint Rosward with a jewel on his hands. I looked around and suddenly, I SAW HIM. The idiot was on the roof of that same building, gesturing at me while laughing and eating an apple.

“What an idiot…” I thought as I signaled for him to come down. At that very moment, the atmosphere changed, and the entire scene around the street shifted. A single element was enough to send a chill down my spine. Something was about to happen, and that made me look towards the store’s door. The girl was looking up, at me to be more specific, straight into my eyes, and that’s when I realized.

I looked her up and down, inch by inch, for seconds that felt like hours. The girl was young, practically a child to me, though it was hard to tell since not a single inch of her body was visible. An old, tattered cloak, almost like a sack of potatoes, covered every part of her body, except her bare feet, covered in blood and mud, and her hands, which were bound by sea stone handcuffs. Her long, tangled brown hair and dark brown eyes were the only visible parts. I scanned her nose, cheekbones, mouth… eyes… those eyes.... so familiar, and then an image came to mind: my mother, and this girl was the spitting image of her.

“Y/N…” I sighed. But it was impossible; my sister was dead. Or so they told me, I think. I don’t know. It’s impossible, what are the odds anyway? Exactly… None.

The girl looked at me, freeze, staring deeply without breaking eye contact, and then her expression changed, as if she had seen a ghost. The truth is, my face must look similar right now.

Her facial expression changed yet again and her tear-filled eyes brought back memories, memories of my childhood, which I’d rather forget.

A blow. A weapon struck her head, and blood began to flow.

“What’s wrong with you? Stop crying. Shut up,” one of the guards shouted. “If Saint Rosward sees you… ¿You won’t want to spend another week in the box, eh, slut?”

She didn’t take her eyes off me, and then a voice echoed in my head, saying, “Now.” I don’t know where it came from, perhaps from within me, from the deepest part, but I listened to it because next thing i know is that I stood up and ran, ran as fast as I could towards one of the guards, ready to hit him and steal his weapon. At the same time, almost as if she knew what I was going to do, the girl stood up, dodging the guard’s blows with ease, kicking him several times, and stealing his weapon. Without using her hands.

“Right!” she shouted, and tossed the wepon to me. I turn right and the weapon falls into my hands. I manage to shoot the guard in front of me.

Another guard falls behind me from a bullet entering his forehead. As I turn around, I spot Izou looking at me with an alarmed expression, probably thinking that I’m crazy.

Meanwhile, Saint Rosward and the rest of his guards and slaves come out of the store due to the commotion at the entrance. They find three guards on the ground, and me standing right in front of him.

“Damn bitch, if I didn’t need you, I’d kill you right here. Come on, grab her and kill the others,” Saint Rosward shouted furiously. I swear, at that moment, it seemed like he could have erupted into flames all over his body; his expression was one of pure rage. In fact his clothes began to catch fire, flames rising from the bottom of his tunic. ¿Does he have that power?¿ Has he eaten a Devil Fruit?¿ Which one? But then it hits me: !!!ACE¡¡¡¡

Saint Rosward begins to scream and jump around like a madman while his guards try to put out the fire now spreading across his clothes.

“¡Run! I´ll see you guys on the ship,” Ace says as a grin formed his lips.

Without thinking it much, I look at Izou; we both nod. I quickly head towards the girl and take her hand. The three of us run towards the port amidst the commotion of the people; no one does a thing, no one moves except us.

Y/N POV:

I’m still on autopilot. ¿What just happened?

Run. It’s the only thing I can think of; my whole body is trembling, numb from so many years of being unable to move, and though my feet, my legs are doing their best, the sea stone cuffs are hard to ignore now. The broken and unstable cobblestone ground makes me trip, and fall to the ground, unable to catch myself as my hands are bound.

Everything around me is shaking; I was so close to escaping, a glimmer of hope in my heart, and now I’ve lost it so quickly.

“¡She’s my sister!” I hear footsteps ahead. Strong, big arms lift me up. A silouette in a pink and purple kimono lifts me onto one of its shoulders and starts running without saying a word.

I let myself be carried, and for the first time in eight years, I feel safe enough to close my eyes and let my body relax. So much that I even passed out.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I open my eyes. My whole body hurts; my muscles and bones ache so much that I let out a small groan when I try to move. My eyes slowly adjust to the light. I’m in a room, an infirmary, and although the room is small, it has the basics: a bed, a sink, and cabinets with countless shelves and various potions. Next to me, a blond boy in a lilac shirt sleeps in a chair. He slowly begins to open his eyes.

“Y/N ¡You’re awake!” he shouts, not realizing the volume of his words. "I mean… well…¿ Are you Y/N? ¿Who are you?”

“Marco… I…”

A deathly silence filled the room. Just for a few seconds, before voices behind the door interrupted the conversation.

“Ace, stop it. You can’t go in there, get lost idiot.” An unfamiliar voice spoke behind the door.

“Come on, Thatch, I’ll give Marco the food, don’t worry. We’re a very close crew and need to help each other out, so let me help by delivering this food to Marco.” This time the voice was more familiar, though I didn’t know why it seemed so familiar…

“All you want is eat that food yourself. Give it back to me…”

Suddenly, the door bursts open with a loud bang, a reven hair boy with a very peculiar hat enters the room. Behind him, a man in a chef’s jacket follows and you could tell that he wants to kill the young man in front of him.

“¡MARCO’S SISTER IS AWAKE! ¿Are you hungry? Here. I brought you food,” he said with a cocky smile.

“Ace, get out of here, I need to talk to her,” Marco replied with a frown, pushing the boy out of the room and closing the door with a bang. “I’ll bring you some food later.¿ Are you hungry?”

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter. I’m not hungry,” I replied, looking down. The truth is you were straving. But thats a feeling you long ago abandon.

“¿Are you really Y/N?”

“Yes,” I replied timidly.

“If you really are, prove it. Show me the mark.”

"Never say who you are, never show them…" those words came to mind forcefully, too forcefully. But it was Marco, I was sure. It had been 15 years since I’d seen him, and although we were children, I knew it was him, that face, that hair… unmistakable. Besides, it was my only chance to dont go back, to never go back.

I turned around, giving my back to Marco, who looked dubious at the girl in front of him. I lowered the cloak, letting him see my completely bare back. Marco let out a gasp. There it was. Right on the neck, that symbol, which identified me unmistakably. Below it, another mark: the mark of the celestial dragons slaves.

A shiver ran down Marco’s spine, and terror invaded his body. Immobilized, unable to make a sound. I turned around: “Now show me yours.”

Marco turned around quickly, lowering his shirt to show me his.

“Bathe and dress, in a few hours we’ll arrive at the Moby Dick,” he said, tossing a towel into my arms. And before I could utter another word, he opened the door and left.

The idea of a bath sounded good; I can’t even remember the last time I bathed… in a pleasant bath of cause, since the cold water hoses of Marie Geoise... I wouldn’t know if they could be considered a bath.

With some reluctance and embarrassment, I opened the door, ready to find the bathroom… ¿How could Marco leave me alone? ¿Couldn’t he have shown me where the bathroom was?. I walked down the hallway, looking for something indicating to be a bathroom, and suddenly, the sound of running water reached my ears. “There it is.” At the end of the hallway, a large open door led to long and large bathtubs, the air condensed with all the steam from the hot water. “¡Hot water, finally!” I couldn’t believe it, nor could I wait to immerse myself in it. I quickly entered, touching the water with my foot, and suddenly I felt my whole body tremble, all the energy, the little I had, vanished. The sea stone cuffs. I had completely forgotten about them, they had become part of me, so much that I didn’t notice them. “I should better wash at the sink.”

I headed to the sink, and at that moment, behind me, a lot of water started to flow upwards, and with a great crash of water against the walls, a tall, muscular figure emerged from the bathtub.

A stifled scream escaped my throat; I managed to stop it by covering my mouth with my hands and instinctively hid under one of the sinks. The figure slowly emerged from the water; it seemed to be difficult for him too… It was the boy who entered the infirmary with the food. I started to scan his muscular tan body, naked… :¿¿¡NAKED??!! At that very moment, I woke from my trance. I better get out of here immediately. Crawling, I managed to reach the door and leave the bathroom, running down the hallway back to the infirmary, locking the door and hiding there. SHIT.

NEXT CHAPTER

#onepiece #one piece x reader #portgasace #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x y/n #portgas ace smut #fire fist ace #portgas d ace x y/n #whitebeard pirates #whitebeard one piece #whitebeard crew #op whitebeard #white beard pirates

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contraryclock · 1 month ago

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Limbus rambling Don Quixote edition number #2 the second

SO!!! that new canto huh Part 1 is out, im avoiding leaks to the best of my ability, and i am CAUGHT UP! still havent read La Mancha or Don Quixote though but i dont think that matters right now OBVIOUS disclaimer about my lack of knowledge with the source material once again point is i have a crackpot theory that just might not be that uncommon or unlikely? idk we'll see

Also sorry for no ALT text, this uses a lot of images and my fingers are very cold

spoilers under the cut obviously, catch up before you click and otherwise beware

oh yeah baby welcome to the cool people zone im going to be using a mixture of my own screenshots and the Limbus Main Story Library for this, so buckle up

I propose that there are in fact, two Don Quixote's! Our Don, the sinner of limbus company! and a much older, original Don Quixote, the possible Founder / Lord of La Manchaland!

To start, almost all of this theory is based on those flashback bits we get with the colored text, and is running under the assumption that the Yellow text is, reasonably, supposed to be our Don.

... which brings up the question of why they are acting so uncharacteristically in what is supposedly their own story.

Now, onto those flashbacks!

First up we have the instance at 7-9.

This one doesnt tell us much but it gives us some initial context.

The grey text is clearly Vergillius, you can just tell that from the delivery. The blue text is an unknown femenine voice, The yellow text feels somewhat familiar to that deeper voice that Don quixote will have on occasion. Ironically its more clear in her scream there at the end. ... and then we have the masculine voice in the red text.

But we'll get to that later! our next instance is in 7-13, on the inside of the Shooting Rage attraction. (( although i personally think it says Shooting Bagel. ))

okok but actually heres the text

Only the red voice this time, clearly the same person given the delivery too and with the added context of this node and the last one, it can be assumed that this is either the person who dreampt up La Manchaland, or straight up founded it.

And thanks to the Barber's Narration, we can also come to assume that this voice is also a Fixer, if these things are to be true.

Next, in 7-16, is NOT a flashback, but rather the reaction of The Barber.

The Barber recognizes the name to some degree, "THAT name" feels incredibly deliberate. But she is otherwise completely indifferent to Don.

and now we get to talk about this blue fuck

Sanson, Knight of the white Moon, Knight of Mirrors, ect ect, the BASTARD quick unrelated tangent but i think its cool that they made the arguable* main antagonist of Don Quixote possibly also be apart of Demian's Cool Blue Crew™ (( DCBC )) (( i say this because he shares his dialogue background with the other members of the blue crew we've met )) anyways basically the ENTIRE SEQUENCE he causes is the main reasoning behind my theory here *arguable ok again i havent read the book so i have no idea if this is an accurate assessment of his character i saw an article say that he was "arguably" the antagonist once and i haven't talked to anyone who has actually read the book to yap at about before i make these posts. addendum over

The fact of the matter is, Don Quixote does a right shit job of recounting her own story. She gets lines wrong, minor details, and this becomes readily apparent as soon as she implies that her own fucking shoes are who she was talking to, and that they are given proper reply. (( My thoughts are that instead of Rocinante, the role is in fact Sancho, but we have no evidence of that being the case ))

We also get the most telling flashback lines in this segment!

...The voice we've come to associate with Don Quixote is shown to NOT say her own line, but rather that of the line in red. And in both of these incidents, ellipsis are used to blank out a word, my bets are all on that word being "Knight" baybee

THATS A WRAP FOLKS we've established all the evidence for my epic theory that uhhh the Red voice in don's flashbacks are an Older, Original Don Quixote and that its possible that our Don is a 2'st Don instead of a real Don

As for why this is happening??? I have no fuckin idea its the first part of the canto i just wanted to get my thoughts out

i hope this wasnt too incomprehensible! as is usual dont follow me ect ect and reply or something if you have anything to add, as said im not very knowledgeable on the source material. or do that thing where you reblog with an additional comment because i will reblog that. free reblog ok goodbye now i will be stabbed to death momentarily

#limbus company #limbus don quixote #don quixote lcb #lcb #don quixote #project moon #fan theory #ramblings #i mean at least this was probably more coherent than the last time i did this right? right?? please please please plea-

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