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ghost-with-a-teacup · 2 years ago

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Hi! Just here to say that i loved What's in Between so much and i truly was meltinggg with part II 💕💕💕

I've never requested anything before and I don't rlly know how this works so it's all good if you decide no to write this one, but for the request: is it possible for it to be a hurt/comfort, Miguel x reader with the prompt "Talk to me, please. You need to keep your eyes open. Just a little longer"?

𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞, 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be a regular mission on any normal day at Spider Society, but momentary distractions are costly and you may have just paid the ultimate price.

Warnings: Mentions of injury and death, BUT IT GETS SOFT I PROMISE.

“Miguel!” you say, bounding up to him with a pep in your step. He looks down at you with a small smile on his face, but it disappears as Jess glances over at him.

“You know you don’t have to pretend to be stoic all the time, how long have we known each other?” She asks, and he only rolls his eyes.

“This isn’t pretending,” he says to her before turning back to you. “Ready?” he asks.

“Always.”

Today was like any normal day at Spider Society, filled with missions to protect the canon of the multiverse. Albeit a little different, because it wasn’t too often that you were able to go on a mission with Miguel. He typically went on them alone, working best without distractions. But whenever he needed a partner you were his first choice.

With one last glance at each other (and a wink that makes Miguel snort) you both head through the portal.

It never gets tiring, travelling to a different dimension. What’s fascinating is the in-between, swirls of bright oranges, reds and blues all as an interconnected web between all possible universes in the multiverse. You get lost in the view, which is probably why you never realize that at the same time, Miguel gets lost in you.

After a little bit, you both emerge on the other side.

“That never gets old,” you grin at him.

“No…no, it doesn’t,” he says, his eyes trailing over your form for a moment.

“So, what’s the deal with this universe today?” you ask, and Miguel huffs softly.

“You would know if you ever listened to the mission briefings,” he says, giving you a side-eye as you both walk around the abandoned factory.

“Why do I need to listen when you’d just tell me anyway, love?” you ask, and he only sighs.

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have to say it twice, amor,” he mocks and you laugh out loud. Your laughter is contagious because Miguel lets out a chuckle himself before continuing.

“She’s a villain from Earth-17502, her main weapons are wooden spikes that emerge from her back and a pistol. What she lacks in speed she has in brute force, and the spikes can be shot out at 100km per hour, regenerated with hammerspace,” he explains.

“So like…a demented Sonic the Hedgehog?” you snicker.

“What? No, I just said she wasn’t fast,” he says, confused.

“No wait, a demented porcupine,” you say, and he only snorts. “Sure, querida.”

“Ugh, disgusting. Romance,” a disembodied voice interrupts, and the two of you immediately go on the defence. From the shadows emerges said villain in question, a cruel expression on her face as she readies her pistol by her side.

Without warning she begins shooting, but the two of you are fast and in sync, splitting off and slinging away with your webs.

“Look bud, I’m sorry that your love life is sad but don’t take it out on us!” You shout, swinging around with a relaxed look on your face.

She only lets out a growl, continuing to shoot at you to no avail. Behind her, Miguel is making his own advance, but like a triggered trap her spikes shoot out before he can get too close.

“Shit!” he says, leaping out of the way just in time.

“It wouldn’t do you well to sneak up on me, little one,” she laughs cruelly. “Wouldn’t want to get skewered!”

Now it's a game of ‘try to avoid the bullets and the spikes flying in all directions at once’, and it seemed like you were at a stalemate.

“There’s no way to get close to her!” you say frustratedly, leaping from pillar to pillar as you continue to evade her bullets. It seemed her frustration seemed to reach a peak as well as she lets out a shout, unable to hit her marks. You move down to the floor, trying a new approach from the ground.

“We’ll figure it out, we always do,” Miguel reassures, and you let out a little smile.

But in that minuscule second of distraction the villain finds an opening, and before you know it a spike is flying straight for you with no time to evade it.

“NO!!” you hear him shout, but it was already too late. All the while, the villain only laughs in the face of your anguish. The spike impales your side, and for a few breathless moments, you don’t even feel it, as though it was nothing more than a punch to the side, a bit of pressure. The adrenaline pumping through your veins does its job of allowing you to not feel the pain.

But as you stumble slightly, it starts to settle in. All at once the searing hot pain hits you like a train, and you collapse to your knees, unable to hold yourself up anymore.

Every breath you take becomes more difficult than the last as a ringing fills your ears.

In front of you, Miguel fights with a new vigour you had never seen in him before, claws slashing and webs flying. Each action is served with purpose and no restraint on his strength, and the villain can no longer keep up. But before long your vision starts to fail you as well, closing in on your line of sight as you collapse onto your side with a wheeze. What felt like an eternity was in reality only maybe 30 seconds, but you were so, so tired.

Out of the corner of his eye Miguel sees you collapse, and all he sees is red. Before he can realize it his fangs are out, and he bites through the villain’s neck effectively paralyzing them instantly.

Within moments he is by your side, scooping you up into his arms as you blink blearily up at him.

“LYLA, SEND BACKUP NOW,” he shouts, his voice cracking at the end and for once there is no funny banter between the two of them as she does his orders immediately.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. Slowly you feel your eyes begin to close, but he shouts your name.

"Talk to me, please. You need to keep your eyes open, just a little longer,” he begs, clutching you close. You’ve never heard his voice so broken, not even when he told you about his past.

“It-” you gasp. “It hurts so bad, Miguel,” your voice weak with pain.

He looks at you with panic and fear, but most of all a feeling of helplessness.

“Querida, come on. You’re strong, mi vida. Stay with me, alright?” he says, his hand gently brushing your hair back before he scoops you up, carrying you in his arms.

You can’t help but cry out in pain as he does, the spike digging deeper into your side.

“Fuck, fuck,” he says, moving as fast toward the portal Jess had just opened up. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I need to get you to the infirmary, alright? You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay,” he says, trying desperately to believe it himself.

But he doesn’t know anymore. You’ve lost too much blood, the injury too serious.

It throws him back to when he was carrying his daughter like this, frantically running as the world falls apart around him.

But this time it was you. His light, the best to have ever happened to him amongst the infinite possibilities throughout the multiverse, the one person that managed to pull him out of the pit he had fallen into after the destruction of his daughter’s world.

You were his salvation…and he was about to lose you.

“I love you, Miguel,” you say softly, before you let out a violent cough. “In case…in case I’m not here to say it anymore.”

“No, no. Don’t say that. You’ll be able to say it a million more times, alright querida? A million more, and even then it won’t be enough,” he says, but you can’t hear him anymore. You can’t even make out his beautiful face so broken in anguish.

All you can see are the colours of the space between the universes. The oranges, reds and blues.

You didn’t think death would be so cold and monotonous. You weren’t exactly sure if you believed in the concept of ‘heaven’ or ‘hell’, the Fields of Elysium were probably closer to what you expected the afterlife to be like. But you definitely didn’t expect it to be so…bland.

It was like an endless void you walked through, no warmth, no ‘light’ to go towards, just you and your thoughts.

Your thoughts.

Miguel.

The guilt hits you like a tidal wave at the fact that you left him alone. Another person was ripped from his grasp by the hands of fate. You couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him, and you did just that by leaving him behind. Even though you promised each other forever on your wedding day, here you were breaking that promise.

You couldn’t find the strength in your legs to continue walking aimlessly anymore. Like that fight in the factory, you fell to your knees, not because of your injury but because of the pain you felt in your heart for hurting the one you loved the most.

You remember his face as he held you in his arms, pleading for you to stay.

He was so warm. He always was.

You missed him.

“Miguel…” you whisper. “I’m sorry for leaving you behind,” you sob.

“Don’t leave me, querida,” a voice says, far off in the distance. Your head whips up at the sound, and you look around desperately trying to hear it again.

“Please…please, I can’t. I can’t do this without you,” the voice says, and in an instant you’re back on your feet following the sound.

“You were the best thing to ever happen to me, vida mía. Somehow loving me in spite of my brokenness. I don’t…I don’t know how to live without you by my side.” You’re running toward the voice now, running through the darkness with it as your guide.

“Don’t leave me…” the voice whispers before fading away, leaving you with nothing to follow anymore.

“NO!” you shout, and before you know it your webs are shooting out from your wrists, catching onto something, and then you’re swinging forward into the unknown.

Your hearing is the first of your senses to return, the steady beat of the heart rate monitor gratingly irritating after a while. It was ironic considering it was the first to disappear when you first got injured.

Next is your touch. You feel the weight of the hospital blankets, scratchy but warm.

Not as warm as the hand that grasped your own though, holding it tight.

Your sense of smell and taste come back around the same time, the sterile scent of the hospital unfamiliar, your mouth dry.

The last is your sight. Granted it was a bit difficult to see with your eyes closed, but you hadn’t quite found the strength to open them until now.

Blearily you blink as the bright lights temporarily blind you, but your attention isn’t on them for long. Instead, you turn to Miguel who sits staring at you in shock, eyes so wide it was almost comical.

“Hi,” you say softly, and he only blinks once before his forehead is pressed to your thigh, a broken sob escaping his throat. He grasps your hand all the tighter, as though he was never going to let go.

It makes you almost want to cry too, but instead you lift your arm up weakly before running it through his hair the way you knew he loved.

“I thought, I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispers, his face still pressed into your leg. He says it so quietly that you can barely hear him, like if he uttered the words too loudly they would come true.

“I could never leave you, my love,” you say. “I have to say ‘I love you’ a million times before then, remember? Or was it a billion?” He can’t help but chuckle, finally lifting his head up to look at you.

He looked exhausted, his usual dark circles darker than usual, his red eyes bloodshot. But he looked so, so relieved.

“No amount of times could ever be enough, vida mía,” he says before pressing his lips to yours.

You both smile into the kiss of a thousand swirling emotions, a million words left unsaid but you both understood even despite it all.

“Guess I’ll just have to get started then,” you say with a grin as you pull away.

“I love you, Miguel,” you say.

“I love you, querida,” he says in turn.

Taglist: @beiroviski, @scaraza, @blueoorchid,@phobia0325, @remuslupinwifeee, @local-mr-frog, @johfaam0, @raweggohan, @honeycriess, @alexenoirex, @chimpkinnuggies, @rqdior, @banana--belle, @notasadgirlipromise, @6billionyearsold, @gods-perfectidiot, @phobia0325, @alcinas-darling-side

A/N: Was thinking of leaving it on a cliffhanger, thought that would be too cruel LMAO. Thank you for reading! And thank you for requesting, anon <3 I had fun with this one hehe

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #spiderman 2099 x reader #marvel

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seethesin · 1 year ago

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vampires everywhere!

pairing: Vampire!Hazel Callahan x F!Monster Hunter!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, hazel & reader are 18+, supernatural/vampire au, blood kink, heavy petting, biting, cunnilingus, teasing (18+, mdni)

a/n: based on the request by anonymous found here. i know i said i'd wait until we got closer to halloween, but this idea had a chokehold on me. gif pack/gif credit.

click here for part two!

"You came."

There's genuine relief in your target's disembodied voice as you enter the mausoleum. You look around frantically, squinting to try and adjust to the darkness. It's impossible though and suddenly, your hostess drops from the ceiling. She lands neatly on her feet, looming over you as she rocks gleefully on her heels. Startled, you back into the door.

She stands at average height with unkempt brown hair. Her skin is translucent; even in the dark, the blue plume of her veins crawls up her neck. A broad, boyish smile plays on her lips, revealing a pristine pair of fangs.

"I'm Hazel."

On instinct, you draw your silver stake. The tip presses precisely into her chest and she smirks.

"Feels like someone's happy to see me tonight."

You dig the stake deeper, watching as it tears a hole through her shirt and pierces her skin. Moments later, the scent of rotting, burning flesh fills your lungs and you cough. Droplets of blood drip from the wound and carefully, Hazel uses her middle finger to clean up the excess. She slips the digit in her mouth, sucking it clean as her skin sizzles against the silver. Her cheeks hollow sinfully and you gulp, your mouth watering.

You were disgusted with yourself. You were supposed to kill her, not fuck her.

"I'm thrilled," you respond blankly, gripping the hilt of your weapon steady. "Thrilled to dispose of another leech."

Hazel sneers, leaning back so that the tip of your stake unsheathes itself from her flesh. Moments later, the wound begins to heal itself.

"We both know that's not the reason," she singsongs, glacier-blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

Okay, maybe it's not the entire reason.

Through the monster hunter grapevine, you heard of a nightclub that hosted some high-profile fiends—The Last Drop. Many of the frequent flyers had bounties on their heads and you were eager to cash in.

As you spent your nights staking the place out, there was one person that you always noticed. It was the girl currently hovering over you, wearing her smile like a gold star on her chest. Like clockwork, Hazel left every time by four in the morning. Where she went after that you didn't know. But you would be lying if you said she didn't distract you from your main mission.

Hence why you were currently in this predicament. Curiosity got the best of you tonight and you followed Hazel back to whatever this was. Her lair? Her home? Her timeshare?

A snarky comment is readied on your tongue, but it dissolves as soon as you feel her mouth on yours. Your eyes go wide as saucers and your grip on your weapon falters. The stake hits the floor with a clatter that echoes throughout the high ceiling. Hazel's tongue slips between your parted lips and you taste the iron of her blood. Her fangs graze against your lower lip, drawing blood that she laps up eagerly.

Regaining control, you rip your face away from hers. Your breathing is shallow as you stare at her, bewildered. Hazel cackles in delight, drinking the sight of your swollen and bloody lips.

"I can read your thoughts, sweetheart. Don't they teach you that in Van Helsing school?"

Blush crawls up your neck and you lean into the door, defeated. This was beyond humiliating. To be completely bested by your enemy like this was difficult to recover from. You refuse to look at her willingly, but she closes the distance between you again. Her fingers pinch your chin, tugging it up so that you're forced to look at her.

Suddenly, you're dragged up the door, caged in between Hazel's arms. Her palms are planted at each side of your head and her thigh slips in between your legs.

"Guess not," she mutters, clearly amused.

The pressure of her thigh against your cunt makes you gasp. The rough denim of her jeans brushes against pussy, making you cant your hips. You refuse to admit it out loud, but you want more.

Thankfully, Hazel doesn't need to hear you say it.

Her hands grip your hips, holding you steady as she drags you down the length of her thigh.

"Oh god," you whisper, eyes screwed shut as you dig half moons into your palms. The sensation felt too good.

"Like that?"

You go mute. Hazel huffs, pushing you back up the length of her thigh.

"Gotta use your words," she urges and your eyes shoot open into a glare. Hazel's stupid grin does not falter as she leers predatorily at you. "If you don't, you're not cumming."

You whine.

It comes out before you can filter your thoughts. Your hands fly to your mouth, glancing up at Hazel as her intimidating stare melts into something mirthful.

She begins to laugh, adding to your embarrassment.

"There she is."

Her knee remains pressed into the wall, watching you expectantly. Defeated, you roll your hips, stealing friction between the fabric of your clothing. Eagerly, Hazel leans in. Her mouth is on your skin, kissing across your jawline and down the slope of your neck. You feel her teeth graze your flesh before quickly, her fangs pierce into your skin.

You moan, reflexively jerking away before leaning back into Hazel's unnaturally cool touch. Her tongue pokes out from her mouth, lapping the blood that drools from your fresh wound. Her hands slide into yours, pinning them against the door. She removes her thigh from between your legs and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"If your blood tastes this good," she begins, removing one hand from your wrist, only for the other hand to gather them both between her fingers. She presses your wrists back into the wall as her free hand sinks down your abdomen. Her hand slides to your pants, fingers sliding up the length of your clothed cunt. Your blood roars in your ears.

"I can't imagine what your pussy tastes like."

"Then do it."

Your statement is so immediate it makes Hazel flinch. She blinks in shock, looking up at you with the same surprise you experienced minutes ago.

"Yeah?" she asks and you nod curtly.

"Don't make me change my mind, leech."

Hazel beams.

Quickly, she brings you back onto the floor. Your fingers are at your pants, unzipping and unbuttoning the fly before shoving them down your thighs. You shimmy out of them, discarding them onto the floor. Your underwear follows soon after.

Hazel stares unabashedly, pupils dilated wide as her hands are on your waist. She hoists you back up against the door, positioning you so that she's between your legs, knees hanging over her shoulders as she stands eye level with your weeping pussy.

You feel Hazel's lips on your skin, her warm breath sharply contrasting the cold grip her fingers have on your body. A string of moans pushes from your throat as you feel her kiss across your inner thighs. Her fangs pierce the soft skin, drawing blood as her tongue cleans up the mess they leave. Your fingers thread into her dark hair, tugging firmly to guide her closer to where you need her most.

She chuckles and the vibrations go straight to your throbbing clit.

"So impatient," she tuts, but concedes and follows your somatic demand.

Her tongue darts out from her lips, kitten licking the length of your slit to your clit. You sigh out, rutting your hips toward Hazel's face as she envelops her lips around your clit. She sucks sharply and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your skull. You're not going to last long and Hazel doesn't need to read your mind to know that too.

It's when she fucks you with her tongue that you that you finally cum. The dam in your gut shatters and a wave of pleasure washes over you. Your nails claw at Hazel's scalp, shoving her in place as you grind your cunt into her eager tongue. Her hold does not falter, keeping you steady until your labored breathing evens out. After a few moments, her head darts out from between your legs. Even in the darkness, the shine of spittle and slick glows on her chin.

"How was that?" It was your turn to be cocky and you relished every moment of it.

Hazel lowers you back onto the floor, allowing you to locate your discarded clothing. She wipes her chin, the flat of her tongue licking off the remnants on her palm.

"You tell me." She tosses the question back to you as you pull your underwear over your hips.

"Well," you start, stepping in and pulling up your pants. You meet Hazel's inquisitive gaze as you fasten the button and pull the zipper up. A shit-eating grin cracks across your face.

"You're still alive, right?"

#bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

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hannahbarberra162 · 5 months ago

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Not My Monkey, Ch 1.

(Reverse Trope Isekai Reader)

I thought it would be funny to have a reverse trope -- instead of having one Isekai Reader who knows everything, too many isekai readers have already messed up the OP timeline beyond recognition.

I'm still writing all my other works, I just needed to get this out of my system. I don't think this will float most people's boats, but that OK.

on Ao3

Platonic Strawhats | Reader / Jinbei

This chapter's plot heavy, I had to get some of the world building out of the way. The rest will be more fun and silly / some romance / angst later. Also, this is my first time writing most (all?) of the Straw hats. It’s been challenging, so please be kind <3. There’s 10 of them but only one of me.

~~~

“Robin! Another one’s here!” Some kid in a straw hat was yelling right next to you, causing you to wince. You had a massive headache, you hadn’t felt this hungover since…wait. You didn’t drink anymore. You opened your eyes to a sunny day on…a wood boat? You were definitely sailing on open water. Maybe the ocean since you smelled salt… What kind of dream was this? Sure, you had anxiety dreams of drowning but nothing so pleasant .

A disembodied hand grabbed your ankle and held on tightly. It startled you but since this was a dream there was no need to worry. You were kind of enjoying the sun and the water, so what was a hand (with beautiful nail beds, but dry cuticles) going to do? You turned your head to find a black haired boy staring at you inches from your face.

“Gah! Don’t do that!” you said to the boy. He grinned at you and laughed.

“Shishishishi, it’s me! Luffy! You made it!”

“Made it where?” Were you supposed to know who he was?

“To the Going Merry! You’re our twentieth reader -”

“Twenty third,” said another guy you hadn’t seen. This one was napping against the mast, talking with eyes still closed. He had luscious green hair that you’d want to check out later. You didn’t see any roots showing so either he had dyed it recently or…oh wait you were in a conversation.

“Sounds good, Loogie. I’m not quite following what’s happening.” This was the most complex dream you’d ever had. You’d never been able to interact like this before in a dream. It all felt like real life. You started to wonder if maybe something else was going on.

“Shishishi it’s LUFFY! But you know that! So what was the last thing you read?” The boy was still sitting incredibly close to you and practically vibrating with energy.

“Um, I read a biography of Catherine the Great. Why?” Luffy tilted his head at your words.

“Is she in Egghead or Wano?”

“Um, in Russia? I don’t think she’d be called an egghead though.” The green haired guy huffed and got up.

“Gonna be a difficult one. Robin can figure it out. Nappin’ on the other side of the deck,” he said to Luffy, walking away. He looked like he was flexing his back as you watched him retreat. His three swords clacked against each other, making you wonder how practical it was to have so many.

“No, she’s gonna be a great reader!” Luffy smiled at you again. You smiled back, but were very confused. The hand gripping your ankle was still there holding on tight. A breathtakingly beautiful woman with black hair, looking to be growing out some bangs, was walking towards you with her arms crossed in front of her. Even though she exuded radiance, her intense blue eyes pinned you with a stare. She sat down in front of you, keeping her arms crossed.

“Hello,” you said. Might as well be polite in dreamland.

“Hi,” the woman said smiling. “I’m Robin. What’s your name?”

Long ago, you were tired of baristas messing up your name (even though it wasn’t hard!). So when someone asked for your name, you supplied their own back to them. It usually worked out ok, and gave room for some awkward chit chat while you waited for your coffee.

“Isn’t that funny? My name is also Robin.” The woman quirked an eyebrow but kept her smile and nodded.

“Shishishishi two Robins! But what can we call you then? It’s too confusing having two Robins on board.” Luffy rubbed his chin in thought.

“Interesting thought, Captain. For now, I have a prepared document I’d like you to read. It should answer the most common questions we get asked by Readers.” The woman handed you a scroll. What in the medieval ages was this?

“Robin TWO!” Luffy said, snapping his fingers. You untied the scroll. Might as well see what it said.

“I don’t think Robin 2 is a flattering name,” Robin told Luffy. “Let’s think of other ideas. In the meantime, let Robin read.” The hand patted your ankle. “It’s best if I keep a hold of you until the shock wears off. Saves a lot of time chasing people down.” She kept a hold of you? Whatever. Looking at the scroll, you saw an elegantly handwritten list.

~~~

Frequently Asked Questions - for Readers

Where am I?

You are on board the Going Merry . Franky has modified it so it does not bear complete resemblance to the original ship but it is also not the 1,000 Sunny .

Is this real?

Quite real. This world is as real to us as yours was to you. This is not a dream, hallucination, or simulation.

Am I dead?

We are not sure. It seems to be likely based on the anecdotes of previous Readers. However, there is no way to know conclusively.

Why was I brought here?

We do not know the criteria under which Readers are brought to our world. We believe it has to do with your intense love of “One Piece.”

What happened to my belongings?

It seems whatever you had last in your world is what came here, with a few exceptions. Cell phones, laptops, and other electronics never make it to our world. We have your belongings on the ship, if you would like to have them.

What will happen to me? Can I stay on the ship?

Readers have stayed in our world for 21 days, after which they disappear. We do not know what happens afterward. During your 21 days, you will remain with us on the ship. You may stay in the men’s quarters.

Is there a way to get back to my world?

Not that we know of. We are unsure if you are transported there once again when you disappear.

Are there other readers?

There is only ever one Reader in our world at a time. The Strawhat Pirates have had the most Readers, though the Heart Pirates and Whitebeard Pirates have had a few as well.

What arc are we on?

The “timeline” that you know has been completely abandoned. With so much additional information and insight into future events, the events of this world have been drastically changed. We are not in recognizable “arcs” any longer.

What about Ace? Thatch? Whitebeard? Corazon? Sabo?

Thanks to the information supplied by Readers, Ace, Thatch and Whitebeard are all alive. Yamato has joined the Whitebeard crew with Ace. We had a time traveling Reader who saved Cora-san. Sabo has been made aware of Ace and Luffy and they have already reunited.

Can I fight? In our experience, Readers are quite weak and unable to fight. If you wish to try, you must first defeat Usopp in an arm wrestling contest.

Note: Please do not bring up our individual histories. We experienced them as real people and do not appreciate discussing them. Thank you.

~~~

You finished reading the scroll and re-rolled it. It addressed some of your concerns, but also had a lot of information you didn’t know what to do with. You handed the scroll back to Robin.

“You should call this the ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased,” you told the raven haired beauty. You still had your sense of humor even when dead, it turned out. Er, maybe dead.

“That is quite an excellent suggestion, I think I shall,” Robin nodded solemnly and took the scroll with another arm sprouting from her own. You’d ask her about that later.

“What questions do you still have?” Robin asked kindly.

“Why do I have to stay in the men’s quarters?”

“Oh, that is not applicable to you. Nearly all of our Readers have been men, usually Torao has the female Readers. You can join Nami and myself in the women’s quarters.”

“I’m dead then, huh?” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, especially when you felt so alive.

“Robin B!” Luffy shouted from a few feet away. He still hadn’t given up on a nickname for you.

“No, Luffy, I don’t care for that,” Robin said calmly. “That would make me Robin A, which I am not. And yes, you are likely dead.”

“That’s a bummer.” You’d think about that and deal with your feelings later, this was all too weird to believe right now. You fiddled with the necklace you were wearing. None of this felt real at all. Besides, one of your best traits as a person was your ability to roll with things. You had always been pretty open to change, though this change was…drastic.

“Interesting - few readers express that emotion upon arriving in our world. Readers are usually thrilled to be here with us.” Robin looked like she wanted to study you in a lab.

“Um, so what’s a Reader? Or a One Piece?” You might as well learn while you were here for the next few weeks.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Robin said, the hand patting your ankle. “We aren’t going to harm you for your information. We’ve probably heard it all already. We know that we’re a comic and a show in your world. You’re not in danger.” You hadn’t considered that you might be in danger, but you were thinking about it now.

“TWO Robin!” Luffy yelled from across the deck. He’d been pacing and trying to think of a good nickname this whole time.

“Luffy, that is the worst suggestion yet.” Robin frowned.

“Aw, you don’t like any of ‘em! This is frustrating. Maybe we can just call her Mystery Reader !”

“Not every reader is a Mystery Reader, Luffy. You can’t say that for -” Robin was chastising Luffy.

“Myst is fine. Short for Mystery.” You didn’t really care what they called you since, you know, you’d be going to the afterlife in about three weeks.

“ Shishishishishi I knew you’d be a good reader, Misty!” Luffy stretched his arms from where he stood to wrap them around you. Misty, sure. That was similar to what you said. What the…was this kid rubber? Add one more weird thing to the pile, why not?

“What other questions do you have?”

You were gonna put your cards on the table. “Listen Robin, I’ll be honest, I didn’t get a lot out of your handbook. I don’t know any of those people, or any of you, or what this show is. I don’t know why I’m here, I have no information to give you. I watch documentaries and sometimes HGTV. This is like a new employee orientation for a job I didn’t apply to. ” Robin nodded sagely.

“I quite like that phrase - new employee orientation. Perhaps more of a ‘new reader orientation.’ In any event, you’re here with us now, whether you know any information or not. I am going to release you, and you can get settled in.” The hand holding on to you vanished as you watched.

“Cool party trick.”

“Yes, they are very useful, though not always appreciated at parties.” Robin stood up and you did the same. You stretched your legs and back as you’d been sitting for a while. Robin was a tall drink of water, you thought. You were average height, nothing crazy. But she was statuesque and slim, making you think of your own body. Sure, you had some self confidence, but as you approached closer to middle age, things didn’t look quite the same as they once did. And Robin looked like a supermodel, graceful and elegant.

“Do I hear the sweet voice of a lovely Mellorine?” said a handsome waiter, holding a glass of water on a tray. He was practically swooning and you’d never met before. A little strange, but maybe he was just enthusiastic. Robin looked at the waiter, who was wearing a three piece suit.

“This is Sanji, our chef. He is also one of the Wings to the Captain.”

“Oh, sweet Mellorine -”

“Wait, who is the Captain?” You cut off Sanji, you realized you didn’t know who was running this show.

Sanji’s expression showed surprise. He looked at Robin for clarification, pausing in moving the tray your way to your dismay. You really wanted that water.

“Misty, as Captain calls her, does not know anything about our world. We will all have to introduce ourselves.”

“Wait, does that mean Luffy is -”

“The Captain,” answered Robin and Sanji simultaneously. That kid?! The one who suggested they call you “Two Robin”? You didn’t say anything so as not to insult their captain or whatever but the kid didn’t look like he could be older than 18. Not your circus, not your monkey. As long as the ship didn’t sink in the next three weeks, it didn’t really matter to you.

“Right, right. That seems…good. Um, Sanji, is that water for me? I’d really appreciate it.” Sanji looked like you’d asked him to senior prom.

“Oh, dear, sweet, beautiful Misty, it would be an honor to serve you this water.” He bowed to you with a flourish. Alright, time to nip this in the bud.

“Look kid, I’m old enough to be your mother. Cut it out. But thank you for the water.” He deflated a little but not for long.

“Like wine, most women only get better with age,” he said with a charming smile. “As Robin mentioned, I am Sanji, the chef on our crew. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

“Oh, I’ll eat anything you make.”

“Is that so? Truly, no restrictions? Preferences? Allergies?” For all his attempted flirting before, he seemed serious right now.

“Well, truthfully, I’m vegetarian. So, no meat.” Sanji nodded, smiling once again.

“Not a problem. Do you eat fish?”

“Ah, no. No animals.” You saw a rubber arm going past you as Luffy rocketed himself to your side. Rubber had its uses it seemed.

“You don’t eat meat?!” Luffy yelled into your face, completely incredulous.

“Nope, haven’t in over 20 years.” You moved your head back away from his. Kid didn’t have much need for personal space.

“What do you eat then!?” It was like the kid couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of not eating meat. You shrugged. You’d had this conversation in various forms many, many times before.

“Vegetables, fruit, grains, legumes, things like that.” Luffy furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before it cleared into a bright smile.

“SANJI - can I have Misty’s portion of meat??”

“No! If she doesn’t eat it, I’m not going to make more than usual.”

“But she’s our reader, you have to make her a portion! Then I can have it.”

“But if she won’t eat it, I won’t make an extra portion,” Sanji already looked exasperated.

“But I want it!” Luffy was on the verge of a tantrum, you thought.

“No! You already eat all the food! Besides, if she doesn’t eat meat… ” The two of them seemed to be entering into an argument about meat rations, so you’d bow out of this conversation. It was only getting louder as they argued in circles.

You drank your water and took a look around you for the first time. The ship seemed pleasant, though not very modern. There weren’t any electrical outlets or lights, and not much metal either. It was powered by wind, as you saw the giant sails. Maybe there wasn’t electricity here? You’d ask Robin later. Your eyes wandered up and you saw a giant jolly roger flag, the skeleton wearing a hat.

“So this is a pirate ship, huh?” The fighting made a little more sense now. Not that you wanted to. You’d let them handle that part of the afterlife. It made you a little nervous and you fidgeted with your necklace. A handsome young man wearing overalls and goggles locked eyes with you while holding your hair dryer. The next thing you noticed was that he had the most beautiful, long, luscious natural coils you’d ever seen in your life. It took everything in you not to ask him his wash day routine before you exchanged names. “Hey! That’s mine!” you yelled at him. You were protective of your tools, they were like your babies. The man looked scared for a moment, then apologetic.

“Sorry, I just got excited. I’ve never seen a machine like this before. What does it do?” He was turning it over in his hands, looking at the barrel. He was holding it like a precious treasure, touching it with care. At least he could appreciate machinery.

“It’s a hairdryer.” Your guess that they didn’t have electricity seemed to have more merit now. Which meant he air dried all that hair every time? Coily King.

“Interesting! How does it work? Obviously the electricity feeds through the cord, other readers have had corded things before -”

“Usopp! Where’s the new reader? I wanna see if they have pens!” An unbelievably sexy young woman wearing a tiny string bikini came up from below deck, her bright orange hair blowing in the breeze. Was every person on this ship attractive? How did her boobs defy gravity like that? You looked down at your own, hopeful that whatever force was keeping hers up might be helping yours. No dice.

“Hi, I’m the new reader?” You extended your hand, which she shook. The woman smiled back at you.

“I’m Nami, Robin told me you don’t know anything about our world. So, the way it works here is that everyone pays a daily fee to stay on the boat. It’s 100 Beri a day. That’s how we afford to maintain the ship in tip top condition.” You could smell bullshit a mile away - you’d been working customer service jobs on and off for decades. You decided to play along to see what happened.

“Oh, of course. But how will I get money? I guess I’ll have to sell some of my belongings…” You pursed your lips for dramatic effect. “I know! I have some pens, I could sell those for…what was it you said? 1,000 Beri each?” Nami smiled even wider, a classic mistake.

“Well, what’s money among friends? And besides, it’s not like you can take anything back with you. We have a lot of reader stuff left on the ship.” You paused, pretending to consider for a moment.

“Hmm. You’re right. Maybe I’ll just drop them all in the sea. Y’know, like a, funeral. Since, I guess mine’s already happening. Maybe.” You didn’t want to think about your funeral, it had been a nightmare to figure everything out when your dad died. You felt bad for whoever was arranging it, probably your sister. You were zoned out thinking for a moment, and snapped back when Nami said something. “I’m sorry, I missed that. What did you ask me?”

“What kind of pens do you have?” Nami had taken the bait, hook line and sinker. You doubled down.

“I’d be willing to show them to you, for a price.” She raised an eyebrow, then broke it with a sincere smile.

“Welcome aboard! I’m the navigator for the crew, it’s nice to meet you. You’ll be staying with me and Robin, I hope you’ll have a fun time with us. Now about those pens…” You smiled at her introduction.

“Thank you, and I’d be glad to show you what I have. I’ve always got at least a couple on me. Where’s my stuff? We can see what’s there.”

“Follow me, it’s probably in the crows nest. That’s where reader stuff usually appears.” She started walking toward a ladder that led up to a platform high in the sky. High, high in the sky.

“Hell no!” you exclaimed. “I’m not going up there!” Usopp and Nami looked askance at each other.

“Why not?” asked Usopp, still holding the hair dryer like it was a puppy he was cuddling.

“I’m afraid of heights.” Not that unusual of a fear, you didn’t even like diving off the 3 meter diving board at the pool. They looked at each other again. You felt like you were in middle school again, asking to sit at the cool kids table.

“That’s OK, I’ll go get it for you.” Usopp handed you the hairdryer and climbed the ladder. Nice, you got to sit with them. Score one for you.

~~~

The last thing you remembered from your regular life was walking home from work, rolling your train case with you. You always took everything home with you, even though you trusted the salon you were working for. Force of habit after so many years. You didn’t remember anything after that, though it would be ironic if you got hit by a car.

Usopp kindly carried your things down from the crows nest. It was weird seeing your train case and purse on a wooden pirate ship, like when you saw a Timex in a historical movie. You heard a distant crash and looked over. The green haired guy was fighting Sanji, both of them looked pretty angry. The green haired guy was using his three swords against Sanji’s kicking? Must have strong legs. Maybe all the fighting was with each other. Nami and Usopp didn’t even look up.

“Ooh, what’s in here? Treasure? I’ve never seen something like this before. Most readers have backpacks or purses.” Nami was eyeing your train case greedily.

“No, it’s for my haircutting tools, makeup, manicure supplies, things like that.” You’d been an esthetician for a long time, though you’d done other jobs here and there. Nami threaded her fingers together in delight.

“You’re a hairdresser?! And you do nails?! Big sister, you’re the best reader yet! Most of our readers are in eye-tea. Would you cut my hair?” Oh, she meant IT. Information technology. Made sense, lots of people worked in IT. You’d never really gotten all that good at computers, so that wasn’t something you’d ever pursued.

“I mean, yeah, we can talk about that.” Even in the afterlife, everyone wanted a haircut when they found out you were a hairdresser. “Speaking of, Usopp, you have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.” Usopp looked flustered, like he wasn’t used to compliments. That surprised you, he was clearly smart, well muscled, helpful…if you were 20 years younger you’d have been all over him. Or maybe even 10. But he looked like he couldn’t be older than 20 and that really didn’t do it for you. You liked your men with their prefrontal cortex fully developed. Besides, you hadn’t dated for a long time. In fact, aside from Robin, everyone looked really young. You wondered if there were any other older people on board. Even Robin looked like she couldn’t have been older than 35 at the most.

“So, what do you do here?” It seemed like everyone had a specific job on board, might as well find out.

“Well, I’m the great Captain Usopp, and I am one of the bravest and most notorious pirates on the seas. I’ve defeated -”

“Wait, I thought Luffy was the Captain.” Usopp’s train of thought was paused.

“Oh, he’s the Captain of this crew because I felt bad for him after I single handedly defeated a pirate fleet of 5,000 men. It was easy too, let me tell you the story…” Usopp went off on a long tale about his (obviously fake) adventures on the seas. But he was funny and entertaining and a really good story teller. You touched his arm to pause his story as he was explaining how he defeated a giant with a flaming sword.

“Listen, Usopp, if you ever want, I’ll style your hair for you. Braid out, cornrows, twist out, whatever you want.” You wished you could take a before and after picture for your business Insta, but based on what Robin had told you, your phone hadn’t made it through the…portal? Er, however you got here. You didn’t offer a fade or anything that would have you cut it - it was too gorgeous to cut.

“Hmm, maybe I’ll take you up on that - I’ve been wanting a new look recently,” Usopp mused. Nami was pouting, you didn’t want to upset her. “Same for you, uh, little sister, I’d gladly style your beautiful orange hair. I’ve never seen a shade like it.” You hadn’t, it was like the shade of an actual orange. Nami was appeased.

“Thank you Big Sis, I’d love to do something with all this.” It looked like she was growing out a bob, and it was in that awkward transition stage. You could help style it a little better, whoever had been cutting it did a good job, just needed a few pointers.

~~~

A little while later and the sun was in its descent. You were still with Usopp, sitting on the deck. Nami had gone off to do some work, saying she’d see you later. He’d told you a few funny stories before he asked to see the electrical esthetician tools you had in your case. He was most interested in the nail drill, asking question after question. At some point, you didn’t have answers for him. You knew the basics of how it worked but your recollection of electron transfer was weak.

“Dinner’s ready!” Sanji called. Perfect timing, you were getting hungry. Usopp helped you up and you headed to the galley.

“How many people are on the ship?” you asked. You’d met five of them, not including the green haired man who didn’t introduce himself.

“There’s ten of us, eleven including you. We’re a small but strong crew.” Usopp flexed his arm.

“By the way, I’m not going to arm wrestle you. I know my strengths, and fighting isn’t one of them.” Usopp looked relieved. “Not that I’d win anyway,” you continued, “you look strong. But I’ll let you handle the fighting.” Usopp smiled at your last statement. You wanted to compliment Usopp when you could, he seemed like he needed it.

“Oh yeah, I’ve won every arm wrestling competition I’ve ever had. Let me tell you the time when I arm wrestled a giant octopus and won against every tentacle…” You smiled to yourself and walked to the galley together. Entering through the swinging door, you saw a large table filled with nine other people. Well, mostly people. There was also a skeleton, an android looking guy, and a gigantic blue man - merman? And speaking of the merman, holy shit.

You’d spent time babysitting your nieces and had seen every Disney princess movie that had ever been released in the last 60 years. Their favorites were “Frozen,” and “Moana,” which was the better of the two. You found the polynesian demi-god to be…appealing. At least more than the white bread Cristoff. And that merman looked like Maui had decided to grow a meter and get more muscled. And turn blue. He was huge - maybe 3 meters tall - and you wanted to climb him like a tree. Did that make you a pervert? Maybe, but it was a gut reaction. You weren’t going to act on it. Besides, you weren’t blind, you could appreciate a good looking person when you saw one. He looked like he was around your age, or at least older than the group of younguns you’d met. Maybe the afterlife had its perks after all.

#platonic relationships #platonic strawhats #one piece strawhats #op strawhats #isekai #reverse tropes #mugiwara no luffy #straw hat pirates #straw hat usopp #reader insert #straw hat crew #isekai reader

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moralesmilesanhour · 1 year ago

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mad props! 03

summary: you're now officially part of the theater club's latest production! just one small problem... wc: 1282 a/n: Can't believe I was able to type this out within the same week. But I diiiid! The songs being performed are: 'Popular' - Wicked 'Ohmigod You guys' - Legally Blonde: The Musical (Original Cast Recording) | Have fun reading ! Feel free to tell me what you thought in the comments <3 (only warning is that the process of putting a theatre production together is probably not super realistic here lmao) 02 03 04

“One five, four five, three five, two five, one five, four five, three-two-one,”

You clutched the white binder containing your sheet music to your chest as you went through every vocal exercise from middle school that you could remember.

From the diaphragm, you reminded yourself, taking another deep breath.

“One five,

Four five,

Three five,

Two five,

One five,

Four five,

Three-two-one–”

“Y/N L/N?” the casting director’s voice called out to you.

Your stomach lurched as you rose from your seat and approached the stage. You handed the sheet music over to the pianist. The blinding stage lights made you sweat beneath your uniform, but part of you was grateful that it hid the faces of your four-person audience.

The first chord was your cue.

“Whenever I see someone less fortunate than I…”

You sang the lines through your nose, making your delivery as cartoonish as possible. It even earned a few laughs from the dark void in front of you that bolstered your confidence.

Now, when playing a character such as Galinda, one may be tempted to keep the squeaky ‘princess voice’ the whole way through. But you knew better.

You added depth to your voice for some lines, maybe a growl here, a cry there; your performance needed to show that you could do more than just play the pretty soprano lead.

You belted the final note, arms spread wide as if you weren’t just about to vomit from nerves, and curtsied.

There was disembodied applause, and then: “Thank you, we’ll be sure to send out an email on Friday to let you know if you got the part.”

“Thanks,” you exhaled as you stepped down from the stage.

All that there was left to do was wait.

You were jumpy all Friday afternoon. Even Miles noticed your knee making your desks tremble with the way it bounced up and down in the middle of English class.

“Yo, you good?” he whispered.

You shot him a glare while tapping your pencil frantically. “None of your business.”

“It actually is my business,” he shot back, teeth clenched, “ ‘cuz you’re shaking the damn desk.”

“Is there a problem back there?” the English professor peered over his glasses at the two of you.

“Nope,” Miles sighed. “Not at all.”

Your leg stopped bouncing, and you rested your chin on top of folded hands.

“If you must know,” you muttered, “I had an audition the other day, and callbacks are supposed to be this evening.”

He furrowed his brows. “Oh…kay…?”

“What do you mean ‘okay’? I’m super nervous about it–”

“I mean, why are you telling me this?”

Your eyes widened. Why were you telling him this?

“I…well, you’re sitting next to me, and you asked–”

“I didn’t ask for allat.”

You kissed your teeth, and went back to taking notes in silence.

“Oh, the principal’s gonna love that.”

Joshua Baptiste–current president of Visions’ art club–grinned as he watched Miles add his signature to the wide sheet of paper.

Miles replaced the cap on one of his paint markers with a click, assessing his work.

It was a poster for an upcoming pep rally, advertised in bold, sleek letters that curled in and around each other and ended in sharp arrows. Satisfied, he rose to his feet.

“You think?”

“Hell yeah. Better than anything I could’ve put together,” Joshua ran a hand through loose, sandy curls. “I’m more of a portraits kinda guy.”

The boy’s smile was contagious, showing off two rows of light blue braces. Miles remembered how he used to circle back around to his lunch table just to see them when he laughed with his friends, silver earrings tinkling as he threw his head back.

He’d done crazier things just to see a crush.

Miles returned the compliment, “Your paintings go crazy, though. You could get into art school if you put a portfolio together.”

Joshua shrugged. “Doubt my parents would ever let me go.”

The other hummed in agreement.

“Anywho, I came over here to ask you a favor. Theater club needs an extra pair of hands working on the set, and I already said one of our guys would help out. You in?”

Miles raised an eyebrow at the sudden new project being dumped on him, but he relented. Not like he had anything better to do today.

“Sure. Where to?”

Joshua’s face lit up, and he gestured for Miles to follow him.

“They’re down in the auditorium. You’re a life-saver, man.”

The auditorium was already bustling with students when the two boys entered. There was one group on the far right busy customizing piles of hot-pink costumes with bows and sequins. On the left side, a bunch of kids clutched wrinkled scripts in their hands, practicing until it was time to run through the first few songs. Miles looked up, and taking center stage was a group of no more than ten girls practicing what looked like stage choreography.

Regardless of what each group was working on, there was an urgency bordering on panic to their movements and voices. Miles thanked his past self for not signing up to be a part of it.

“Oh, thank god!”

A tall, stocky-looking girl wearing pink glasses scurried up to them, carrying a clipboard.

Joshua gestured towards Miles. “Here’s your guy! He’s got an eye for color, you’re in good hands.”

He gave a quick salute before turning to exit through the double doors.

The girl stuck out her hand. “I’m Sarah Park, junior, and student production manager for, uh, all of this!”

Miles accepted the handshake and nodded. “Cool. What’s your vision for the set?”

“Well, it’s…”

Before Sarah could finish, the lights dimmed, and a voice announced: “We’re gonna rehearse the opening, everyone in ‘Ohmigod You Guys’, please take your places!”

She grabbed Miles’ wrist and led him to a seat in the front row and whispered, “You should probably just see it.”

Suddenly, music boomed from the speakers as the stage lights illuminated the same girls from before, now all standing in a straight line across the stage with wide smiles.

They sang a number he didn’t recognize, but there was plenty of squealing as they passed down a blank sheet of paper as a prop. He deduced from the few lyrics he caught that they were playing sorority girls, but that was about it.

As the “Ohmigods” crescendoed, Miles noticed that there was someone entering from backstage that then stood behind the girls. He wondered what for, until the group parted and stepped to the side.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for who stood in the middle of the stage. In a blonde wig.

“It’s almost there, but…”

Miles’ jaw dropped as you recited your lines fully in-character.

It hadn’t occurred to him that you could smile without malice, but people were full of surprises: Here was the girl who rarely spoke more than a sentence in class until last week, belting her heart out while twirling across the stage. He would have pinned you as more of the debater type.

The song ended on one final “Oh my god!” in unison before the lights were turned back up.

“Great job, everyone, especially for a first run-through. Everybody take five!”

You sighed in relief, wiping away the sweat collecting around your hairline from being beneath a hot wig and an even hotter spotlight. Wig in hand, you carefully descended down the steps with the rest of the cast and made your way back to your seats.

Sarah brushed past you in between aisles, along with a familiar red hoodie.

You paused and spun around on your heel, confirming your fears.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales fic #moralesanhour

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sephirthoughts · 26 days ago

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Mother

Chapter 1: The Grey Figure

summary: post-advent children, the remnants of sephiroth wind up somewhere they aren't supposed to be, without a clue how they got there, or how to get out. a mysterious figure takes them under its wing, claiming to want to help them.

tags: gratuitous silliness, slight mystery, post-canon, the remnants are the stars because we need more of them

rating: teen and up

warnings: amnesia, i guess?

Location: The Skyless Plains, Space Between Worlds

Through the bleak and barren waste, a solitary figure wandered. Grey and wraithlike, it was, veiled in hooded robes, like shredded wisps of cloud; invisible in the purple-grey fog, that hung heavily over the featureless landscape.

But that was alright. None who came here had eyes.

The figure had just paused, to contemplate choosing another direction, in which to wander aimlessly, when a sound disturbed the perpetual calm. A voice. Then another, and another. Three voices!

“But such lively voices in this place are unheard of,” thought the figure, then laughed inwardly, believing itself to be terribly clever.

Since it had no specific reason to choose any other direction, the figure glided toward the lively voices, to take a look. Soon, it came upon their source: three legless and armless little blobs, who seemed to be quite small, for creatures capable of generating so much noise.

The grey figure thought of them as little, because, though size was entirely conceptual, here, when judged relative to the grey figure’s own size, theirs would be similar to grapefruits, if the grey figure is assumed to have the rough dimensions of a human being.

In any case, the three little blobs were made of pale and wavering light; one white, one blue, and one green—which only mattered because the light was actually life force, which could be seen by those without eyes, and thus the colors perceived, in this place.

“Greetings, little blobs,” said the grey figure, in as polite and non-terrifying a tone as it could remember how to configure.

Of course, the three blobs screamed in terror and darted away as fast as they possibly could. Or, perhaps, darted is the wrong word. They had no limbs and, to be perfectly honest, were not very fast.

The grey figure stood watching, curiously, as the tiny disembodied existences wriggled in the grey dirt, inching away at a pace far slower than its own usual, aimless strolling.

“Did we—did we lose her?” the green one panted (having absolutely no reason to be out of breath, since none of them had lungs).

“Maybe, but those things are wily,” said the (slightly) more intelligent white one. “She might be trying to trick us into letting our guard down.”

“No one told me to have my guard up, in the first place,” the blue one whined. “I’ve had it down this whole time.”

“Pardon me, little blobs,” said the grey figure again, in an even more polite and non-terrifying tone.

The three blobs repeated the process of howling and flailing stupidly in the dirt, until they succeeded in getting a few more inches away, upon which they repeated their former conversation, nearly verbatim.

The grey figure gave a forbearing sigh. Reaching down, it plucked up the three wriggling blobs and held them in its (purely conceptual) palms, to have a (metaphorical) look at them.

“You’ll never take us alive!” roared the white one.

“I’m too beautiful to die!” wailed the blue one.

“I can’t feel my legs!” bellowed the green one.

“Calm down, little blobs,” the grey figure gently admonished. “You’re using up your life force, thrashing about, like this. If you keep it up, you’ll disappear altogether.”

“We’re not blobs, you reaper hag! We’re souls!” the white one contended. “And don’t even think about eating us! I’ll…I’ll lodge myself in your throat and choke you!!”

The grey figure considered this for some (or no) time (which did not exist here). “Hm. You do seem to be human souls. But you’re so small. You must be very young souls.”

“We’re not born yet,” the green one offered helpfully.

“Shut up, Loz!” the white one scolded. “Don’t tell it things!”

The grey figure seemed to smile. “Your name is Loz?”

“No!!” the white one thundered.

“Yep,” the green one chirped.

“I’m Yazoo,” the blue one said languidly, as if speaking was a dreadful inconvenience, and it could only be asked to do so much.

“I said don’t tell it things!!”

“You’re Loz, and you’re Yazoo,” repeated the grey figure. “And what’s your name, little one?”

“None of your business!” the white one wiggled angrily.

“He’s Kadaj,” the green one said. “We’re all brothers.”

“I see. So, you’ve always been together?”

“Yes.”

“Mn.”

“Ye—I mean! Who’s asking!! And put us down!”

“This is a curious riddle, little blobs,” the grey figure said musingly. “If you were never born, how do you have names?”

“We named ourselves!” growled Kadaj, the white one. “What do you care!”

“Did you? Well, they’re darling names,” the figure chuckled. “I like them, very much.”

“Thanks!” Loz chimed.

“Hmph,” Yazoo hmphed.

“So, Yazoo, Loz, Kadaj, tell me; how have you come here?”

The three blobs faltered, seeming to be at a loss.

“We…um. Well.”

“We really can’t…”

“We don’t know.”

The grey figure nodded. “I suspected as much. And where were you, before?”

“We don’t know.”

“No idea.”

“And we wouldn’t tell you anyway!”

“I ask because you look like human souls, to me. But if that’s the case, you shouldn’t have been able to come here. This is a place of exile, for those who can’t return to the lifestream.”

“We were in the lifestream, once,” Loz said cheerfully. “It was warm and bright!”

“Then we were…somewhere else,” Yazoo murmured.

“Now, we’re lost in this stupid wasteland,” Kadaj grumbled.

“Well, you’re in luck,” said the grey figure. “As it so happens, I’m the guardian of this place. If you’ve found your way here by mistake or mischance, there must be a way to send you back to where you belong.”

“The guardian?” Yazoo asked, skeptically.

“What’s a guardian?” Loz wanted to know.

“As guardian, it’s my task to oversee this place, and ensure that everything proceeds according to the rules. I’ve never tried to exercise my authority, before, because I’ve never had a reason. But this does seem to be the correct situation for it.”

“Were you always here?” Loz asked.

“No. I was human, once.”

“You don’t seem human,” Kadaj said suspiciously. “How long have you been here?”

“That is a question,” the grey figure sighed. “It seems, not very long. And yet, I feel as if I carry the burden of ten-thousand centuries.”

“You can just say you don’t know,” Kadaj informed it, which made the figure seem to smile.

“Excuse me, um, ma’am,” Loz put in, shyly. “Do you have a name?”

The figure appeared briefly troubled. “I must have, but…I seem to have lost it.”

“Then, what do we call you?” Yazoo asked.

“Yeah, we have to call you something,” Kadaj agreed.

The figure laughed softly, seeming to be pleased by this. “You wish to give me a name?”

“Well, we don’t actually know any names,” Loz admitted.

“We know our names, idiot,” Kadaj retorted.

“But we can’t use our names, they’re already ours,” Yazoo lamented.

“The three of you seem to know many words,” observed the figure. “Any word you know can serve as a name, if you choose to use it as one. Why not choose a word, for my name?”

“Reaper hag,” Kadaj put forth confidently.

“But I’m not a reaper. Shouldn’t a name be a more unique designation, that avoids causing unnecessary confusion?” the grey figure reasoned.

The blobs were utterly confounded by this, and fell silent.

The grey figure seemed to laugh, again, behind its wispy sleeve. “This is not a pressing matter. Think, for a while, and choose something you like, to call me. For now, let us go.”

“Hang on a minute, go where?!” Kadaj demanded. “We never agreed to go with you! This is some kind of trick, isn’t it!”

“I vote to go with the reaper hag,” Loz said.

“Seconded,” Yazoo yawned.

“There’s no voting! This isn’t a democracy! Hey, where are you taking us! I demand answers! I dem—mph! Mmmph!”

Kadaj’s outraged protestations were muffled, as the grey figure stuffed the three little blobs into its sleeve, and vanished.

To be more accurate, it didn’t really vanish, it simply used astounding speed to cross unfathomable (conceptual) distances, in negligible time (which did not exist here). Not that it would have mattered if it vanished or not, though, since again, no one could see it in the first place.

“Here we are,” it said, shaking the little blobs back out of its sleeve, to plop onto the grey ground.

“—have rights! I don’t have to put up with being manhandled by some reaper hag, just because I’m—” Kadaj broke off, bewildered. “Where are we?”

“Home,” the figure said, in a sepulchral facsimile of cheerfulness.

Kadaj scowled. “This doesn’t look like home. It looks like more shitty grey fog.”

“What should home look like?” the figure asked.

“It should have a house!” Loz answered sagely.

As he spoke the words, some of the fog receded, and a cottage style, two-story house emerged, just as he’d imagined it, only grey.

“It should have a garden,” Yazoo ventured, and more of the fog lifted, revealing a perfectly idyllic kitchen garden, full of flowers and vegetables and herbs of many varieties, only they were all grey.

“It should have a mother,” Kadaj said coldly.

When he looked up to sneer at the grey figure, however, he found that it had transformed, into a lovely young woman, with a gentle smile on her face.

She was as grey as everything else, but her skin was fair and her eyes were deep, and her long hair, which she wore pulled up in a high ponytail, was somewhere in the middle. Her figure was slender and petite, and she wore a simple dress, with an apron and comfortable house shoes, like the mother character in a children’s storybook.

“M…mother?” Loz faltered.

“She’s not our mother!” Kadaj exploded. “She’s that reaper hag, in disguise!”

“That’s true—well, not exactly true, since I’m not a reaper,” said the former grey figure, who was now a grey young woman. “I am the same person who brought you here. I have created this place for you, in accordance with your ideas regarding what a home is, to make you more comfortable. I suppose I’m to act as the mother, since you say a home requires one, and I can’t create sentient beings.”

“Mother!” said Loz and Yazoo, bouncing happily.

“Since we’re home, shall we go inside?” asked the grey young woman.

“Inside, inside!” Loz and Yazoo cheered.

“You’re both idiots seeking death,” Kadaj groused, sullenly following the others into the house, with his arms crossed and his little silver eyebrows lowered in a scowl. Then he abruptly realized he had arms to cross, and a chest to cross them on, as well as legs to follow the others with, and gave a yelp. “I’m a person! Y—you guys are people, too! We were born! Wait, that doesn’t make sense.”

“Since this place is intended for your comfort, I gave you human forms, based on the condition of your souls,” the grey woman explained. “You’re children, now, because you’re so weak and small.”

“Shouldn’t we be babies, then?” Kadaj pointed out.

“I’ve no wish to care for infants, who can neither speak, nor do anything for themselves, so I gave you a little spiritual energy boost. Your physical ages should be around six human years.”

“Couldn’t you have given us a big one, so we can be grown ups?”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” the woman said gravely.

“Is it against the rules?”

“No. It’s just that I think you’re absolutely precious like this,” she grinned, reaching down to pinch Kadaj’s little round cheeks.

“Back, hag!” he barked, striking out with both hands, to fend her off. Unfortunately, he had the strength of a six year old, and the woman simply ignored his little slaps and pinched his cheeks to her heart’s content.

His eyes were blazing with white-hot indignation, and the moment she released him, he ran away up the narrow stairwell. A second or two later, they heard a door slam, upstairs.

“Only just become a mother, and it seems I’ve already got a teenager,” the young woman mused. “Wherever does the time go?”

“Mother? We’re hungry,” Yazoo said, tugging on her apron.

He was looking up at her with the largest, saddest eyes, and an aggrieved pout, which, on his beautiful, childlike face, was a devastating blow capable of slaying gods and mortals, alike.

“Mother, can you cook us something?” Loz put in, tugging on her apron on the other side.

“I’m not sure. I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we,” she said, and entered the kitchen with the intrepid air of an adventurer, sallying forth into an undiscovered country, fraught with unknown dangers.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

yazoo: mother we’re ever so hungry

loz: please make us food, mother

system: [-1000 points of puppy-eyes damage to party member mother]

grey figure: [spitting out blood] my character settings are not specced for this

#remnants of sephiroth #kadaj ff7 #yazoo ff7 #loz ff7 #remnants #final fantasy 7 #ffvii #final fantasy vii #advent children #ff7 advent children #ff7 #sephiroth #dirge of cerberus #ff7 rebirth #ff7 remake

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therimmerexperience · 3 months ago

Text

Smegtober- Day 7 (Sacrifice)

“I need to go home,” Ace, Rimmer, told Wildfire, his voice nasal and whiny; he was ready to be himself again.

“As you wish,” replied the disembodied voice from the cockpit, her tone, as always, indifferent and cold. She scanned her dimensional records with a beep.

Rimmer's eyes widened in disbelief as he laughed bitterly, “it was that easy? You could have taken the others home at any time too?”

“Yes, Arnold,” she replied, still indifferent.

“Why?” He tore the wig from his head, tossing it to the arm of his chair and missing. He left it on the ground.

“Why what?”

“Why did you never take any of the others back?” He glowered at Wildfire's control panel as if she could see him, as if she had the capacity to care. If he had known, if any of them had known, that they could have just asked to go home, the Ace Rimmer grave planet would be a ring system short of a war memorial.

“They never asked,” she, once again, answered plainly.

Rimmer shook his head, opening his mouth though the strained feeling in the back of his throat prevented anything from escaping. Eventually, he gave up. Lecturing an unemotional machine on human decency seemed redundant. He felt foolish for even getting upset at her.

“Just take me home.” He finally relented.

Wildfire buzzed, a swell of blue expanding in the ink before them and swallowing them whole, spitting them back out in a similar blotchy scene, speckled with stars, only with one major difference; a large spacecraft hung in the sky to the right of Wildfire, dusty rouge and just as tasteless and magnificent as he remembered it. It was home.

Boarding the dwarf, stepping, for the first time in decades, onto the landing bay, he was greeted by Kryten first, the rest of the crew behind him, his head wider and his body a brighter shade of silver than before. He had aged. Could mechanoids age? Rimmer pushed away the thought. It made him feel old.

“Mr Ace!” he gushed, a veil of perplexion shrouding his features while his eyes scanned the wig pressed curls on Rimmer’s head. A smug, knowing smile tugged at Lister’s cheeks, the creases around his mouth deeper than Rimmer remembered, his eyes lined, crows feet forming in the corners. He pulled him into a tight hug, much like when he had first left though Lister definitely felt softer. Rimmer supposed time had done the same to him too.

Red Dwarf itself had changed. Rimmer had noted all of the small differences mentally while on his way to Lister’s room: hallways seemingly stretched further, the ceilings panels no longer resembled styrofoam and he could have sworn there never used to be that many elevators. He wondered if the diesel desks had changed. His next spontaneous getaway the next time someone fell ill would surely be more interesting than the time Lister contracted space mumps- for one, he had an actual body now.

Looking around, Rimmer felt like he was in a funhouse, the room distorted compared to the one in his memory; he was still trying to wrap his head around the nanobot resurrection, let alone the changes the resurrection had caused; since when were bunkrooms that big? It was remarkable how pleasantly sized beds were supposed to be before the JMC budget cuts. He shrugged off his hideous silver flight jacket, throwing it out into the middle of the room and watching it dissolve into light before it hit the floor.

“So,” he turned to Lister, who was slumped in a chair by the table, “Where did the other me go? The one who was resurrected.”

“He’s hiding,” The scouser chucked, “down in the cargo decks. I think he’s scared you're here to replace him.”

Rimmer settled in the chair opposite Lister’s, resting his hands lackadaisically on the surface in front of him and shooting him a playfully suspicious glance, “and why would he think that?”

“Because that's what I told him,” He grinned idiotically, much like he used to back in his twenties, “It’s not my fault he believed me.”

Rimmer couldn't help but smile in return, “I was never that much of a tremendous coward, was I?”

“Well, he is only human.”

They stewed in silence for a moment. Considering his next words carefully before he let them tumble from his tongue, Rimmer pressed his mouth into a straight line, his brow creasing. He watched his former crewmate tap anxiously on the metal tabletop expectantly for a while.

“He won't want to take Wildfire,” Lister beat him to it, still tapping, “I think he's worse than you were.”

Rimmer nodded; he knew exactly what he had meant by ‘worse’; he was less adjusted, more cowardly, meaner and so much more bitter- all of the things that made Rimmer 'worse’ than most other people. A hand slid over the top of one of Rimmer's, brushing its thumb over his reassuringly and squeezing it lightly. Lister’s eyes met his, unchanged, still the same shade of brown they always had been: a sickly sweet hue of honey.

“I don’t want to leave,” the hologram admitted sheepishly, withdrawing his hands, “I’ve been Ace too long, Listy. Longer than any other Rimmer.”

“I’m sure I can convince him to give it a go,” he winked, “I’ve done it before.”

—-

Rimmer climbed into the cockpit of Wildfire, gaudy, senset blonde wig askew and flight jacket rubbing the wrong way on his skin; he wasn't ready. He waved to the man who looked just like him, who saluted in return, the H on his forehead shimmering in the light of the landing bay. Lister smiled thankfully, a semblance of guilt on the curl of his lips. How could Rimmer have said no? It wasn't as though he truly belonged here. He was merely a spare part.

“Come on, old love,” Nano-Rimmer prompted Wildfire in an Ace impersonation, still yet to be perfected, “We better be off.”

#red dwarf #arnold rimmer #dave lister #rimster #fanfic #fanfiction #smegtober2024 #red dwarf fanfiction #smegtober #ace rimmer #holy shit this is one thousand words exactly???#rimmer x lister #subtle rimster

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scariusaquarius · 2 years ago

Text

the devil in i.

Serial Killer! Leon S. Kennedy x Female! Reader

Summary: There’s something different about that cute strawberry vendor in town. Leon’s so eager to get to know his new playmate. What better way than a surprise house visit?

A/n: I’ve been working on this for ages and let it collect dust but after playing boyfriend to death, I’ve become extremely inspired! Let’s see how fucked up my mind can get 😊

Genre: Horror, Dark Content, Erotica Rated: Explicit Warning: Dark Content, Noncon/Dubious Consent, Stalking, Choking, Blood Play, Knife Play, Death, Gore, Slight Torture, Slight Sexual Torture, Slight Mutilation, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

Author: ScariusAquarius

Fear was often described as cold. It was a freezing feeling; one that kept a person unable to speak and think…it made people complacent…willing…the perfect candidates for insanity to sink itself into the mind and reap what had been sown.

The thrill of instilling it was addictive and enticing. It was an adrenaline rush that made his blood boil with excitement whenever he would find a new person to play with; to hear their sanity teetering on the precipice until he finally pushed them off the edge.

His hands were stained, red and sweet as he breathed heavily, calming the boiling of his blood as the man stayed kneeling before a stilled body, watching the way the blood dripped from the skinned and disembodied torso he had been playing with.

He would have to dispose of the body…get a fire going to roast the meat he had saved; warm up his cold limbs and eat the strawberries he had bought earlier that day.

The thought of sweetness within his mouth made the man lick his bloodied fingers, a drunk look within his blue eyes as he enjoyed the small treat that he imagined tasted like strawberry syrup before he stood. A mirror stood on the other side of the room, and the man took a look at himself.

His body was naked, splatters of blood all over his body, and his hands ran over the blood. It was his favorite part about coming down from the high and yet the most hated.

He was just never satisfied.

Within his sickened mind, tainted by the years of trauma and abuse that the system had put him through, Leon Kennedy was never satisfied anymore. There was nothing that brought him true joy; nothing that could save him from the tendrils of madness that clutched at him and brought him further and further within the black abyss in his soul.

Truly, it wasn’t his fault.

For years, Leon had been forced to watch people die and turn into monsters that shouldn’t have ever existed. Zombies and mutant monsters were only supposed to exist in terrifying stories and Hollywood, but for Leon, they were very real, and he had watched them destroy his whole life right before his very eyes.

The government had never helped him. They never cared about him nor the people that he lost. Why should he keep doing what he did? Why should he keep saving humanity? Why would he give a fuck about people that never even gave him a simple fucking thanks? The world never knew about all the blood and sweat and tears he had shed for the sake of humanity just to be fucked over and over and over.

Leon glared at himself in the mirror before he turned away from the mirror, trembling and shaking as he slightly stumbled out of the room. He was getting too worked up. If he got too worked up, he was going to need to go hunting again.

But then again, would Leon ever resist the need?

Leon stepped up the stairs to the first floor, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge, uncaring of the blood he was tracking through his desolate home as he pinched out the bowl of fresh strawberries from the cool shelves.

Plucking the biggest and reddest of the bunch, Leon bit into it and erotically groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he thought of you, the cute little strawberry vendor from the market. Would you taste as sweet? Would you be just as juicy and wet as he played with you, your own juices running down his chin just like the strawberry he was suckling and chewing on?

For weeks, Leon had been frequenting the farmers market, always making sure to swing by your stand and buy your sweet berries when he went into town. From the moment that Leon had first seen you in the farmers market, Leon hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you and stop going to your stand.

Your voice plagued his dreams, your face entered his mind at all hours of the day, and Leon was obsessed. He was obsessed with your presence, and Leon knew that he needed you. Leon needed you so badly that he was sure he couldn’t live without you, so Leon began to plan.

The next time that he saw you, he’d ask you out. He’d ask you out, take you somewhere really nice, and then Leon would bring you home for some play time. Leon could see it now: you’d be in a sexy little dress just for him, showing off your pretty body for him while the two of you had dinner, maybe wearing a lovely little piece of lingerie beneath the sexy fabric of your dress.

You’d be so intrigued with him, wondering about who he was and what he did, and when Leon would refuse to tell you, you’d want to know so badly that you’d even be willing to go home with him…and then play around him with a little bit. Leon suddenly couldn’t help but think about the image of you being a cute little housewife after a while of him fucking you.

You’d clean the dishes, make him dinner, rub his feet after a long day…oh, Leon just had to have you! You weren’t fit to be anybody else’s. Leon made his way into the bathroom to freshen up, stepping into the shower to begin washing off the evils of his actions before he went to go see you. It was like a routine to him now to see you before he would go to bed, watching you sleep and dream without any concern of the real world. You were so sweet, so innocent…Leon didn’t want anybody else but you for his next…affair.

His new playmate.

The whole way to your place, Leon was practically humming with excitement. He wondered if you had noticed some of your missing laundry…if you’ve noticed your panty drawer wasn’t as fully stocked as it usually was.

It was just a souvenir he’d take each visit…panties from your hamper, a bra from your drawer, a shirt or two from the closet, they were sacred little forget-me-knots that the man couldn’t resist taking when he would visit you. As your home approached, Leon took a deep breath and shut the headlights off.

His vehicle was parked just a walk-away from your house, and Leon was quick to get out and sneak his way to your house. His heart was racing with adrenaline, lips wet from how much he was licking and salivating them, and Leon could see your bedroom light dim.

Right on schedule.

You always went to bed at around 9pm so you could wake up early in the morning to set up your spot in the market. Leon nibbled on his bottom lip. Within ten minutes, he’d be in the clear to get inside, and so when those ten minutes passed, Leon was bolting to the front door.

Carefully, Leon unlocked the door with the copy of the house key he had stolen from his last visit. Quietly, Leon looked around. Everything was just as it usually was: blanket folded on the couch, dishes drying on the counter for in the morning, shoes neatly set right by your bag and car keys, and coat hung right on the hanger.

Leon made his way up the stairs, fingers itching with excitement, and Leon slowly opened up your bedroom door. However, you weren’t in bed, and suddenly, Leon’s heart dropped into his stomach.

You were standing in the doorway of your bathroom, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. For a moment, you both just stood quietly, stunned into a stupor from the shock, and the second you screamed, Leon came at you. You threw the glass of water you had in your hand at him, and Leon cursed when it smashed against his shoulder.

He had to shut you up before your neighbors woke up!

Leon tackled you to the floor, your body thrashing beneath him as he wrestled with you, and Leon hissed as you fought, kicking and scratching at him.

“Dammit, stop it!”

“Get off of me! Someone help me!”

Leon winced before whimpering out, eyes wide and maniacal as he reared his fist back.

“Be quiet!”

Leon brought his fist down against your face, and you stopped moving immediately, body going limp, and Leon panted. Standing up, Leon fisted his hair within his sweaty palms.

No, no, no. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go! He wasn’t ready to be with you just yet. Leon needed more time! Leon began to pace, eyes squeezing shut as he clenched his teeth.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit! Fuck, why couldn’t you have gone to bed like fucking normal!”

Leon kicked your ribs in anger before he shook his head suddenly, hissing softly.

“I’m sorry, I…I didn’t mean it.”

Fuck, he was losing it. Leon needed to get a grip…maybe a drink would make him feel better. Leon ran into the bathroom and placed his mouth under the faucet, turning the tap on and gulping down water as if he hadn’t drank anything in years.

Once Leon finished, he panted and stood up, glancing down at you. He’d just have to move date night to immediately. Leon licked his lips before picking you up, setting you down onto the bed and Leon’s hands trembled as he slowly pulled your clothes off.

Your body was beautiful, so soft beneath his roughened hands as he got you naked, and Leon couldn’t help but salivate at the sight of your naked body. He couldn’t wait to have you beneath him, screaming his name after a successful date.

There was no way this date would go wrong for him again.

Leon’s cock was throbbing beneath his jeans, but he was going to wait. He wanted to enjoy the high of sex with you….wouldn’t it be more sacred that way? Leon couldn’t help himself, his hand gently ghosting his hand up your chest and firmly taking a hold of your breast.

His cheeks were red, blue eyes blown with evil lust as he groped your breast, and Leon couldn’t help but let out a small little whimper. He wanted you so bad, wanted to fuck you so bad, but Leon would wait for you. Leon took a step back and looked through your closet for the sun dress he had seen you wear one time to a date with some bastard that frequented your strawberry stand.

He wondered if you had attended the man’s funeral or if you even knew that he was dead; now just frozen meat within his deep freezer in the basement.

Leon’s heart was racing in excitement as he took out the sundress, and he was quick to put the dress onto your body. Picking your body up and hoisting you over his shoulder, Leon grabbed a handful of your scarves that you had in your drawer. Leon made it downstairs, and he set you into a chair, tying you down tight and gagging you.

You looked so pretty, and Leon was eager for you to wake up. In the mean time, Leon dug into your fridge and began to get to work.

When you came to, there was a pain in your face that had you wincing as your eyes fluttered open. You recognized that you were in your kitchen, the smell of something delicious wafting into your nose, and you were surprised to see that a plate of finely cooked steak, green beans, and mashed potatoes had been cooked.

But you were tied to your chair, wearing nothing but your sundress. Who was that sitting across from you? When you gasped in, a pain in your ribs made you wince again, and you realized he had tied a scarf around your mouth.

What was happening?

The man was one that you recognized, that you knew. He came to your strawberry stand often, always being so sweet and kind…was it really all a ruse? His blue eyes were terrifyingly dark in the candlelight of the candles that he had burned, and you were put-off by the romantic setting he had created.

Was this some sick fantasy?

“I…wasn’t sure how you liked your steak, so I cooked it medium-rare…I hope you enjoy it.”

While his voice was pretty, it was scary to hear him talk so sweet and shy. Your heart was racing, adrenaline rushing through your veins, and you knew you had to get out of here somehow. The man came closer, and you reared back in your seat, eyes wide.

“No, no, it’s okay…I won’t hurt you…don’t you want to eat? You had so little for dinner…you should take better care of yourself.”

His fingers were callused and rough as he pulled the gag back, and his name hit you like a ton of bricks.

“L-Leon? What are you doing? This…this is wrong. Please, let me go.”

His face darkened, and Leon growled at you, grabbing your throat in a tight grip that had you gasping for air.

“Is this not good enough for you? You’d really take that Charlie bastard over me? I could give you so much more than he ever could.”

Charlie, Charlie….oh. The man you had gone on a date with and then never saw again. You whimpered out, hands struggling to break free from the loosening ties around your wrists.

“Charlie…never….never came back!”

Leon chuckled darkly, the sound almost…crazed as his lips curled up slightly in a dark Casanova grin.

“I know he didn’t. He even looks miserable while dying just as he does living…but it’s okay, he was a terrible person anyway…you know he molested his little sister when he was in his teen years? I did the world a favor…another fucking favor.”

He looked jaded, angry, and you took in deep breaths of air as Leon’s demeanor suddenly changed. Leon looked broken, confused and hurt as he clutched your shoulders tightly.

“I keep doing this world favors…and nobody ever thanks me for it….nobody ever tells me they’re grateful…”

He glared at you then, blue eyes wild as begged you.

“Tell me you’re grateful…I did all of this for you! I deserve that, don’t you think?”

You were scared, heart jumping into your throat as his rough nails dug into your shoulders, and you whimpered out as a tear fell down your face and your hands became loose from the ties.

“I…I’m very…grateful. Please, let’s just have dinner, okay?”

There was a plan forming in your head and as Leon bit his lip and nodded, turning to go sit back down, you snatched the steak knife from the table and drove it straight into his leg. Leon howled from the sudden pain, glaring down at the steak knife that was embedded into his thigh right by his knee. You were running away, somewhere still in the house, and Leon’s hand enclosed around the handle before he growled as he yanked it out.

You were going to pay so dearly for lying.

Leon turned, calling out to you as that familiar and boiling rage began to fill him, overturning the table and making plates and everything shatter against the wall.

“Get back here, you fucking bitch!”

He was like a lying stalking its prey, tracking your whereabouts. You hadn’t left the house. Leon didn’t hear the bells he had put atop the doors jingle, so you probably knew that he’d know you had left and would go after you. Smart girl, but Leon couldn’t put it past his cute strawberry vendor.

You’d always been so annoyingly intelligent, but that’s what made it fun.

Stalking quietly through the house, Leon was breathing deeply through his nose. He could smell your shampoo wafting through the air, leading him upstairs to the guest bedroom, and he couldn’t help but giggle and place the tip of the bloody knife to his lips.

“(Y/n), you’re so silly…if you wanted to play a game, all you had to do was ask! I love hide-and-seek…but you know, you’re supposed to let me count while you run!”

Leon’s eyes closed and he whispered.

“One…”

You could hear him right outside the guest bedroom door, your hands covering your mouth and nose as you hyperventilated, trying to keep your breathing down and silent. His steps were almost inaudible, but you knew he was coming. It was only a matter of time.

“Two…”

Looking around the room, you tried to find something you could use to defend yourself within the tiny closet you had hidden yourself in. Boxes that you had yet to unpack were stacked around you, but pulling the tape would create too much noise and alert Leon to your location.

There was a curtain rod in the corner; propped up and unused, and you picked it up carefully.

“Three.”

His voice seemed far away, most likely in your bedroom, and you could hear the man looking through your things. Swallowing thickly, you quietly opened up the closet door. The bedroom door was still closed, thankfully, so you quietly walked out, heart racing.

It was almost disorienting; the fear that was coursing through your veins, and you wandered to the window. It would squeak when opened, and it was quite a drop, but if you could jump far enough to land into the bushes below, maybe you would still have a chance.

“Four…five…”

He was beginning to count faster, becoming unfair in his eagerness to catch you, and you inwardly cursed. Leon wasn’t giving you any time to think of a real plan of action and you swallowed thickly as the anxiety began to get to you. Slowly, you unlocked the window, and your heart began to race as you placed your hands on the window.

“Six, seven, eight!”

He sounded excited; invigorated with the impending doom he would bring upon you, and you swung the window open, the sound echoing through the terrifyingly silent home.

“Nine, ten, here I come!”

Without warning, the guest bedroom door was kicked in, making you scream with fright loudly. The back of your head was grabbed, hair fisted within his large fist, and suddenly your face was smashed into the window. A sickening crack sounded, the window and your nose breaking loudly, and blood gushed down from your nostrils.

Stunned from the force of Leon’s attack, Leon forced you away from the window before he slammed it shut, locking it, and he roughly pushed you down onto the floor, making your knees smack onto the hardwood floor. Fire ran through your legs from the harsh drop, and you could hear Leon pick up the curtain rod.

“What this? Were you going to try to fight your way out?”

Leon couldn’t help but laugh at you, grabbing you by the ankle when you went to crawl away, and you yelped when he yanked you back. Leon was holding the knife in one hand and curtain rod in the other, a dark smirk on his lips.

“I like it when they try to fight…it makes it so much fun…breaking them is the best part.”

Leon swung the curtain rod down, smacking it right into your stomach, and you cried out, curling yourself up into a ball as the pain made tears come to your eyes. Leon was grinning at you, eyes wild at the sound of your cries, and he slowly walked around your body, taking you in.

“What’s the matter, honey? I thought you liked it when I was rough.”

You scooted away from him when Leon began to get closer, and his eyes darkened, shutting slightly as Leon licked his lips.

“Maybe I should take you back to my house so we can really have some fun. I have so many things we could try…but you’ve upset me already…I was going to be so sweet to you.”

You swallowed thickly, pleading softly.

“Please, please don’t do this! I’m sorry!”

That seemed to be the wrong choice of action.

Leon’s eyes became enraged, lips curling back as he yelled out.

“You’re sorry? You’re fucking sorry? That’s all you fucks ever say. The second you get found out to be a piece of fucking shit, it’s always ‘oh, I’m so sorry, Leon,’ ‘I apologize,’ ‘I’ll do better next time, I promise,’ but it never fucking changes. You’re all the fucking same!”

In his rage, Leon smacked the curtain rod down upon you over and over, making you scream and cry as he beat you mercilessly. Pain was blooming all around you as he made contact with your body with every swing. Arms, legs, torso, spine, there was nowhere he didn’t beat you.

What had caused such a seemingly sweet man to become a cold jaded killer?

All the times that Leon had come to your stand in the market, he had been so sweet, his blue eyes filled with something you had associated with happiness. His cute laugh, his sweet gestures…the constant buying of strawberries when you knew there was no way he could have run out of the previous package already…now, you just see that you had been blind.

It wasn’t happiness that gleamed in those eyes, but gleeful obsession. Leon’s sweet gestures were excuses to touch you; to feel how weak you would be compared to him. Leon never laughed with you, but at you. Leon didn’t keep buying your strawberries because he loved them, he bought them to see you.

The thoughts sent shivers down your spine.

Leon threw the curtain rod away, the metal covered with your blood, and you whimpered when Leon forced you onto your bruised back. Holding the knife tightly in his hand, you pleaded with him desperately.

“Please! Please don’t do this, Leon…I…I’ll do anything!”

Leon paused, tilting his head slightly as he pondered your offer.

“Anything?”

You gulped at the implication, but you knew that if you wanted to get out of this alive, you’d have to go along with Leon. He was unstable, unpredictable…maybe you could sweeten him up and make him believe that you were willing to cooperate…just until you knew you had a chance to get away.

Leon’s eyes lit up when they looked all over your body, his fingers brushing against a growing bloodstain on your chest, and you almost panicked when he brought the knife down and forcibly cut the fabric apart.

You jolted from the force of the knife cutting your sundress, and Leon licked his lips in delight as your chest became exposed to him. Taking the knife, Leon dragged it all along your skin, the tip scratching just the slightest but not enough to draw blood. You swallowed thickly when Leon trailed the knife to the hollow of your throat, spinning it around before he whispered to you.

“I could kill you right now if I wanted to…cut that pretty throat and watch you bleed to death…so you better be good for me or I’ll make sure they never find you. Though, who would go looking? You have nobody. Poor little you…all alone…I wonder if anybody even cares about you like that. You got friends?”

You weren’t sure if Leon was actually asking you a question, but the annoyance that flashed in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you. Swallowing thickly again, you shakily responded.

“Y-Yes…I do…”

“They haven’t seen you in a while…I wonder why that is.”

There was a foreboding tone to his voice, an implication that had your blood running cold, and you were too afraid to ask him what the fuck he meant by those words. Leon glanced down at your chest again, licking his chapped lips as he roughly grabbed your breast, and you yelped.

Leon was very heavy, pinning you down by straddling your hips, and his cheeks lit up in a slight blush that was unnoticed by how dark it was in the room. Your only light was the moonlight filtering through the window and your eyes adjusting to the darkness, so how would you have been able to tell just how excited Leon was?

Leon did know seem to know what a gentle touch was, roughly groping and pinching your nipples in a way that had you hissing and biting your lip harshly. Taking his knife, Leon trailed the tip along your skin before cutting a harsh slit right above your breast. You cried out from the pain, but Leon was lost within his own pleasure to notice.

He was breathing heavily, eyes wide with intoxicated desire, cupid lips parted, and you knew deep down that he was most likely hard within his jeans. Was torture truly so erotic for him?

You felt yourself panic with you felt the tip of the knife touch your hardened nipple, and you screeched when Leon slice into the sensitive nubs, heart racing as the pain bloomed throughout your whole chest.

Leon moaned softly before dipping his head down and suckling the bleeding nipple into his mouth, and you cried, pushing against his shoulders to get him off of you. Leon, however, did not even budge. He was like a brick wall despite his skinny appearance, and you hated the way his swirling tongue made you feel despite the stinging that came with his saliva making contact with your wound.

Leon pulled off of your nipple, panting hotly, and he cut at the rest of your sundress, uncaring if the sharp knife cut your skin along with the fabric. Just as you were going to scoot away when the man lifted himself up from your body, you screamed loudly when the man swung the knife straight into your shoulder.

“Don’t even think about moving, you filthy whore.”

You cried hot tears as Leon left the knife there for later, forcing you to spread your legs and expose yourself to him. Leon hummed in delight, leaning down and digging his nose right into your entrance. Leon inhaled deeply, making your eyes widen with disgust, and he moaned erotically, gripping his cock through his jeans tightly.

“You smell so good…just the way you always do…so clean and fresh…”

Leon forced his tongue deep inside of you, wiggling his tongue around the best he could because of how tight you were, and you jolted despite how painful it was to jostle your shoulder. Leon wasted no time, licking your cunt like ice cream, suckling on your clit and making your shoulders jump.

If the situation had been different; if Leon hadn’t been a crazed killer, you might have actually enjoyed this. You might have enjoyed the way the man moved his tongue and sucked just right…but there was no enjoyment; no relief. You were Leon’s for the taking, and you knew he did not do these things to you for your enjoyment.

Leon roughly shoved a finger inside of you, making you hiss out, and he was rough in the way he finger-fucked you. Your walls trembled involuntarily, and your hips bucked when he curled his fingers in a way to find your g-spot and rub against it. You whined loudly, and Leon laughed at you.

“Aw, you’re enjoying it, huh? Want me to fuck you now? I’m so fucking hard for you, baby.”

Taking his fingers out of your cunt, Leon made quick work of his jeans, taking out his hard cock from their fabric prison. You felt dread fill your body, but all you could do was watch as Leon positioned himself, brushing the head of his cock against your wet entrance. You almost heaved as he pushed his cock into you, his girth stretching you and filling you up so much that you were almost convinced you wouldn’t be able to take him.

Leon hissed deeply, eyebrows furrowed up in euphoria, and Leon wasted no time in thrusting his hips. His eyes were fixated on you, watching your face intensely as he fucked you, and Leon couldn’t help but to wrap his hands around your neck without warning, grinning as your eyes widened and mouth fell agape. You clawed at his jacket, and Leon just kept grinning.

“Look at you, so helpless…fuck, you feel so much better than I ever imagined! So tight…am I your first, baby?”

Leon didn’t even care for the answer. It’s not like you could give him one with his hands gripping your neck so tightly. Your eyes were rolling slightly, and Leon let your neck go so you could gasp in oxygen, instead smearing your blood all over your chest before he dipped to lick the essence up.

His cock was so deep inside of you, so firm and assertive as Leon fucked in and out of your poor hole, and you couldn’t help the trembling that came from your pussy. You knew you didn’t enjoy this…but your body was responding against your will.

It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong.

Then why did he choose you?

You squeezed your eyes shut as Leon leaned down, suckling on your nipples, and you hissed when his roughly rubbed his tongue against the nipple he had cut. It was painful, but your mind was beginning to become a jumbled mess that you almost didn’t even notice.

Leon could tell that your mind was slowly falling to pieces by the way your cries came to a slow sniffle, that you couldn’t even bear to look at him, that you allowed him to fuck you senselessly. He loved how easy it was to make you break.

But there was a part of his mind that was still unsatisfied.

Where was that fire? That eagerness to escape? He thought you would have put up more of a fight. He thought you would have been different than the rest. You were just the same. The fucking same!

Leon became brutal with his thrusts. He didn’t care if you came or not, Leon didn’t care if you enjoyed this or not, he was done pleasing others. Wrapping one of his hands around your throat, Leon snatched the knife from your shoulder, eyes enraged as he stared down at you.

Your eyes were wide now, mouth agape in a silent scream, and Leon couldn’t help but to hiss out.

“You were supposed to be different…but you’re just like the rest of them…I hate you. I hate you!”

The knife was plunged deep into your stomach, and you began to claw at Leon’s face, trying to get him to stop as he continuously dug the knife into your body over and over. Eventually, whether from bloodloss or lack of oxygen, you slowly stopped moving, and Leon finally moaned and came deep inside of you, loving the way you just took him.

This was how it was supposed to be.

Panting, Leon sat back on his haunches, tucking his flaccid cock back into his jeans, and Leon licked his lips. It was such a shame…but you still looked so beautiful to him. Perhaps he really would keep you…make you into a pretty doll he could enjoy whenever he wanted.

Slowly, Leon stood up, licking the knife clean of blood as he stared down at you.

His pretty little strawberry vendor…he’d just have to visit your gardens for your strawberries now, but that wasn’t too much of an issue since Leon lived so close. Leon sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead as he got to work on cleaning up the mess you had made.

“What a waste.”

[END]

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s. kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil

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frankencanon · 1 year ago

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Another AU where the DonQuixote Brothers get to be Happy and Hale

Teenage Doflamingo gets caught and arrested by Tsuru whilst he is still young enough that the marines think—or can be convinced to think—that he can potentially be rehabilitated...

Doflamingo himself is of course entirely against this plan and is fighting Tsuru and Sengoku every step of the way.

But eventually Sengoku manages to drag Doffy home with him, telling him that he'll be staying with him as part of a very special, tailored specifically to him, rehabilitation plan.

Doffy thinks ew, gross and continues to struggle against him all the way up until they get to the front door and there is a young marine standing there, tall and blonde and about Doffy's age, maybe a little younger.

Wait, hold up.

When the eerily familiar marine spots them approaching his entire being lights up, from his face to his body language—he's practically glowing.

"Doffy!" He cries out, and. Wait. Wait wait wait.

Hold up. Wha—?!

"...Rosinante?!"

"I'm so happy! Dad spent years looking for you—sorry, Sengoku—and I was worried something happened to you! You have no idea how happy I was when I saw your wanted poster!"

"..."

"I mean," he chuckles sheepishly, "I wasn't exactly psyched to discover you were a pirate, but... Honestly, I was too busy rejoicing over the fact that you were alive to even bother caring about any of that."

"..."

"I, uh... I convinced Da—Sengoku to try, uh, rehabilitating you instead of just sending you to Impel Down or something..."

"..."

"...Doffy, please... Please say something?"

"...you're alive, Rosi?"

The marine—Rosi?—stuttered, eyes widening. "I—yes, Doffy, I'm... Sengoku found me, some time after you left, and he took me in... He promised me he'd try to find you too, but he searched the North Blue for years and he couldn't find you anywhere... Not until recently, at least, when word started to spread about the DonQuixote Pirates..."

Doflamingo blinked, continuing to stare. "That...was you?"

"Eh?"

"The marines, everywhere... They'd seemed like they were...searching for something... Searching...for me?"

"You—" Rosi stumbled, "You saw them?! Then why...?"

"They were marines, Rosi," Doflamingo said, as if that explained everything. And...it kind of did? Because of course he ran from the marines; He'd just shot his father full of lead, spent a month carrying around his disembodied head, and was now traveling with established criminals twice his age.

Of course he ran, of course they ran, when they saw marines sweeping the streets, obsessively searching for something—or someone, rather.

And how would Doflamingo have known? It's not like Sengoku and Tsuru were going around advertising that they were looking for a ten year old Celestial Dragon child—that would've put Doffy in even more danger.

Even just admitting to be looking for a blonde male child with an eye injury would run the risk of having unsavory characters also searching him out, once they knew that the marines wanted him—either to use him, assuming he had some sort of talent or ability that made him valuable, or as a bargaining chip to blackmail the marines.

Off to the side, Sengoku groaned, covering his face, while Tsuru tsk'ed, frustrated. No wonder they'd never found the kid—he had literally been running from them the whole time.

But while the marines present were still stuck on that fact, Doffy was glancing around at their location. "So, why...?"

"Oh!" Rosinante startled, "This is our house. As part of your rehabilitation program you'll be living here with Da—with Sengoku and I."

"With...you?"

"Yes! Just like when we were kids, Doffy!"

"..."

"Won't this be great?! I'm so excited, Doffy!"

"...yeah. Yeah, me too, Rosi."

And, oddly enough, he was.

—

OK, this was just supposed to be an idea for an AU—I got a little carried away there, but...

Please, your honor...! I just want them happy and amicable and ALIVE for god's sake...!

🦩❤️‍🔥🐦‍⬛

#donquixote brothers #donquixote rosinante #donquixote doflamingo #one piece #fanfic #fanfiction #cora san #corazon #donquixote corazon #corazón #doffy #op fanfic #one piece fic #sengoku #tsuru

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longeyelashedtragedy · 5 months ago

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taking a risk and posting the very first section of the threesome (which STILL has no title? very odd for me). it is an xxxtreme first draft so some of the language is rough/worded weirdly (i do this so i can just get an idea out onto the page without getting stuck on the wording and then forgetting what it was). that first paragraph has too many tenses in it on purpose--i'm trying to figure out which sounds best! sorry that it starts with a sort of disembodied handjob!

There are so many things Frank won’t think about as he walks up to the carefully placed ball.

For one, the nails painted a bright electric blue. Cute, thoughtful, flattering. Thoughtful. Flattering. Flattering. The gaffer said: nothing strenuous. Not even my hands! Can’t even use my hands! Can’t touch you tonight! Uh-uh, call Roberto up now if you don’t believe me! Here, take my phone, call him up!

Looking down and watching the nails that decorate the long fingers wrapped around his cock. It was not a lazy hand; she stroked him firmly. But lovingly. Teasing the tip making him moan and say her name out loud despite the sudden embarrassment of this. The chin digging into his neck and the soft hair draping over his shoulders and the nipples pressing against his bare back through the thin shirt she wears to sleep. If he closes his eyes there’s a moment of safety. Everything is alright.

He thinks of sucking the Chelsea-blue fingertips clean with his eyes closed so she can admire his eyelashes. He knows well what he tastes like on her fingers, thighs, stomach.

With his eyes closed his mind tells him it’s the taste of John.

He won’t look into the bursting blue and white stands to meet her eyes. Then he’ll have to think about this: how there’s no girlfriend with his name on her back—never has been, she doesn’t do that, has never done. She’s not like the others. When he sees her in the stands she stands out. She’s different. And it worries him sometimes. If someone thinks—If she’s different than maybe so is he—

He thinks about John—John is there too, John in his kit. John trapped in a stadium seat because of being what she’d called a bit of an idiot over dinner or because of what he’d thought of as passion but in private, in the depths of his heart, he has to agree with her.

It’s why she makes a better fiancée than he’d thought life would bring him after he’d made a mistake the first time. They’re often of the same mind about the day-to-day things. If they got deeper, there’s a lot she surely wouldn’t agree with about how he feels about John Terry. So Frank spends the time poised, tense, making sure they don’t get deeper.

Stop thinking! John should be doing this with him. He can’t bear to not have John when he’s supposed to have John. Stop thinking!

Then he’s back to himself, Super Frank, the captain today, not a leader, maybe a legend, and captain all the same. He sets the example and he works hard enough to tune out the distractions. He’s strong, focused, a good example of a man for others. His footsteps vibrate though him. He hears them thump in his ears. The adrenaline flows, and his view of the world narrows to nothing but the pitch ahead of him and Manuel Neuer. He doesn’t hear anything. This is one of the moments he’s been training for all his life. He doesn’t think of how Dad was the one who first prepared him. These moments are the ones he lives for. When it all leaves his mind.

His foot meets the ball with that calm, steady, controlled force. Up and over Neuer’s arms, cleanly into the top of the net.

The team the staff the entourage soaked in champagne and sweat and screams.

The families are loaded onto a different coach. The first team hanging out of the seats, hooting and spilling things and faking grinding on each other in the aisles, soaking in more champagne and sweat and screams. It wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary for Frank and John to share a victory kiss. Shouldn’t have been, anyway. What kind of world is this, that’s designed things so that they can’t? It’s Dad’s tired 70s, 80s, 90s holding the 21st century hostage. Frank is tired of Dad’s world. He was captain. He should get a victory kiss.

John takes a break from swigging the Dom Pérignon to do what he always does. To be on the same wavelength as Frank and yet crushingly not. “You’re such a fucking star, Lamps,” he yells over the horrible music someone is playing. “I’m so fucking proud of this lad,” he says to Petr, who’s fully aware. And then back to Frank. “Too bad you’re not some pretty girl. I’d give you a kiss, wouldn’t I?”

They don’t get to the Mandarin Oriental until three in the morning. They’re already playing what one of the younger lads identifies as Justin Timberlake in the hotel ballroom. Nobody will sleep tonight.

#7397 words and i'd say it's only 65 % done...#sigh #fic saga #irish cream pie #(DRAFT TITLE)#also...2012 was such a bad era for party music in my humble opinion #as someone who was Out and About all the time then #so we're going with slightly older #pre lady gaga a lot of stuff was just...mid? other than JT timbaland etc #but 2011-2012 i find *annoying*#anyway!

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eitherlyingorstupid · 2 months ago

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Unfinished Fic: Tracks Squared

I wanted to write G1 Tracks/TFA Tracks, but I kind of gave up with regards to the framing device. Blanket permission if anybody wants to expand on the idea, I guess?

Tracks didn't know how he'd gotten here. He didn't really know where "here" was, for that matter. The last thing he remembered was a bizarre sensation, like his very molecules had been plucked from his own universe and rearranged into this… place. This arena. The floor was a polished black, so reflective he could see himself standing there, looking utterly perplexed.

Beside him stood another Autobot, one that looked eerily similar yet distinctly different. He was taller, wider in the shoulders and narrower in the waist. The wings on his back were actually doors, unlike Tracks' functional wings. The other Tracks also had a pair of blue glasses perched on his nose.

"Who are you?" Tracks demanded, his voice echoing through the arena. The other Autobot looked just as confused, but there was a cocky smirk playing on his lips that seemed so out of place on a face that was almost his own.

"I'd like to ask you the same thing," Glasses (as Tracks had mentally nicknamed the other him) said. He had a smoother, more cultured tone than the Tracks from this universe was used to.

Tracks opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by a voice that seemed to come from everywhere.

"Welcome to episode 12 of the Solana Saucy Games," it said. "You have been selected to participate in a series of intimate challenges. Work together, or face elimination."

"Elimination?" Glasses said. "You're going to kill us?!"

"Elimination will involve releasing you back to your original universes," the voice said calmly. "No harm will come to you. Additionally, if at any point you wish to leave, simply say 'I forfeit.' However, if you choose to stay and play, you must both agree to complete the challenges together. Do you accept?"

Tracks hesitated. He really didn't want to be dragged into this mess, but he had often thought about what it would be like to have sex with himself. Self-servicing in front of a mirror was one of his guilty pleasures; he was the most attractive thing he knew.

“Alright,” he sighed. “I suppose these… games are being broadcast somewhere?”

“Yes, across the upper sphere of the Solana system.”

Tracks had never heard of the system before, but he imagined it held a lot of viewers. A tiny flicker of arousal zipped through his circuits as he thought about being watched by so many spectators.

Glasses folded his arms. “And what sort of challenges are we going to be doing?”

"Your first challenge is a test of sexual endurance. Thrill the audience by pushing yourselves to the limits of pleasure," the disembodied voice announced. "There are several more teams competing at the same time. The last pair standing wins the round and moves on to the next challenge."

The reflective black walls began to brighten, and Tracks saw a series of cubicles containing other pairs of mechs. Some of them were from his universe, while other seemed to be different versions of mechs he knew.

The cubicle next to him held a version of Soundwave with visible tires and a green mech who bore a strong resemblance to the Cosmos from his universe, though he was at least four times bigger than the one Tracks knew.

"Looks like we're going to have an interesting audience," Glasses said, nodding towards the giant screens that had just turned on, displaying the other teams.

Tracks felt his faceplate heat up at the thought of being watched by all those pairs of eyes.

A holographic display timer flickered to life.

"Your task," said the announcer, "is to have intercourse without climaxing. The longer you last, the more points you earn."

"What's the prize for all this?" someone else — evidently a version of Starscream, judging from the voice — asked.

"Notoreity," the announcer replied. "Your performance will be judged by the viewers of the Solana Saucy Games. The more entertaining and enduring your display, the more popular you become. And with popularity comes power and resources in your respective worlds. Now, let the games begin!"

The crowd's cheers filled the arena, and the walls of the cubicles descended, leaving Tracks and Glasses in their own private space.

Glasses stepped closer, his eyes scanning Tracks up and down. "Well, we might as well make the best of this," he said. "I've always wondered what it would be like with someone who knows exactly what I like."

"Assuming we are exactly the same, that is," Tracks said. "But you seem more… refined than me."

Glasses hummed. He leaned down to kiss Tracks, his servos stroking the edges of his wings. "Can you really fly with these?"

"Of course," Tracks said.

"Where I'm from, Autobots don't fly." Glasses kissed Tracks, his lips pressing firmly against the other's. It felt natural, really.

He pressed his frame closer to Glasses', gently moving his hips to rub against Glasses’ contours.

Tears welled in Tracks’ optics as his body begged for release.

“Feeling overwhelmed?” Glasses said.

“Yes, please, Primus —!”

#Valveplug

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goldenblu · 11 months ago

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hold your fire (by the throat) - chapter 4

One Piece | Zosan | Post-Wano AU where Sanji slowly loses his emotions

Chapter 4: the devil that you forgot

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “Putting away the groceries,” Zoro says, like it’s obvious. Sanji is going to break his nose. “Why?”

Preview:

The next morning, Robin comes with him to buy groceries after breakfast. To take a look at what’s on sale, she says, but Sanji chooses to believe it’s because she’s irresistibly drawn to his charm and good looks. And who is he to say no to an outing with a heavenly angel?

When they arrive at the open air market, there’s not too much of a crowd, probably because it’s only an hour past dawn. He made sure to cook breakfast earlier than usual today because he wanted to get the fuck off the ship as soon as possible after baring his insides to the shitty mosshead of all people yesterday. It means that the late-risers won’t be getting freshly made food, but he can take the blow to his pride as a chef this one time.

As he stews over this, Robin passes him a pouch of berry. “This is from Nami. It should be more than enough, according to her.”

“Ah, Nami-san’s so generous! I won’t spend a penny more than I need to,” Sanji promises. He withdraws the shopping list he drew up last night after taking inventory. “Spices first, I think.”

Though he knows it’s seen as a chore to some of the others, grocery shopping is one of his favorite parts of visiting new places. With all the wildly different climates and cultures of each island on the Grand Line, it’s a perfect way to discover new flavors and ingredients that he hasn’t come across before. As someone who’s constantly looking for new ways to expand his repertoire of dishes, he couldn’t ask for a better opportunity.

Flitting from stall to stall, he samples various spices and marinades and produce, crossing off items on his list as he goes. He also finally learns that the island is called Quarry Island, apparently named for the nearby quarry which supplies the mineral ore that makes up their main export. He doesn’t particularly care about the details, he’s just thankful for the way it distracts him from brooding over yesterday’s discovery.

He hadn’t slept well last night, tossing and turning and thinking about what it could mean for him. Because the mosshead could be right that it’s nothing, but he could also be wrong. The little sleep that Sanji had managed hadn’t been restful at all, full of strange half-forgotten dreams, and he’d woken up feeling like shit, with a deep sense of foreboding that he couldn’t shake off.

Now, in the daylight, Sanji refuses to let himself dwell on it too long, or else he’s going to start screaming and never stop. He focuses on the food instead. This island seems to lean towards West Blue cuisine, he notices, with a prevalence of fragrant herb-infused sauces and hearty root vegetables, the kinds that pair well with shellfish. Makes sense, he supposes, given the abundance of crustaceans in the bay.

There’s a booth selling fried crickets that he steers clear of. Even though he’s usually open to trying all sorts of new foods no matter how weird or gross, insects are the one thing he’d really rather not eat if he doesn’t have to. He suppresses a shudder, feeling the phantom sensation of things crawling over his neck, his cheeks, his eyes, cruel laughter echoing through the suffocating weight of a mask on his head.

Abort. Abort. Think about something else.

He’s determinedly examining some regional mushrooms—and wondering if he could cook it in a way that even Usopp would like—when a disembodied mouth sprouts in front of him. Robin’s voice says, “Sanji, could you come over here? To your left.”

(continue on AO3)

#one piece #zosan #sanzo #sanji #zoro #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #emotionless sanji au #hold your fire by the throat #mine #my writing

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lilliana17 · 16 days ago

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Thoughts in a Cold Desert Night

The blazing heat of the desert had finally given rest as the moon shone above in an inky blue sky. Laying on the soothing grains of sand Grian looked towards the stars. He watched them seemingly flicker as if they were watching him back. The carmel brunet just turned away rolling closer to Scar. Escaping his lips a sigh slowly echoed out into the world. Grian only rolled back laying flat on his back, choosing his stars as the better option.

His friend was always charming and resourceful, but could Scar ever be described as Cunning before this stupid death game. He knew it was off, that it didn't settle right with him. Grian probably knew best that Scar being yellow wasn't just a warning sign of how many chances he had left. It wasn’t just a sign of being slightly in danger, it was death constantly looming. Not being yellow was a gap between green and red, it was the start of one slipping sanity. It was hard to say for sure why Grain happened to be the only one with this information, maybe it was a punishment.

“Is this whole thing to make me suffer, fun for you all to watch? A joke!? Watching me dance like your personal monkey for having different wants? For not being like you? Oh you couldnt just mess with me you had to rope people I care about into this torture game!” Grian yelled to the stars, they only watched him silently. He wanted to yell and scream more at them. To pour all the blame onto them till his voice wore tired, though he bit his tongue. Scar was sleeping and it wouldn't help anyone to wake him up.

Though, Grian still blamed them in his head for this mess, him being stuck on Monopoly Mountain with an idiot. It was their fault all of this was their fault. Even though Grian led the dangerous monster to his close friend. Look it was just a funny joke, a prank with a creeper no one was supposed to get hurt. He was still a green name. The avian had no ill intentions, it was just harmless fun. How was any of this his fault? None of it was his others who played pranks Grian was just unlucky.

Then why couldn’t the man sleep no matter how hard he tried, each night the voices screamed inside his head. Guilt? No this was just those Watchers mocking him like usual. It was always them, never himself. Any blood on his hands is blood on their hands, they made this game for these results. His first life was Scars, threatening people isn’t his fault.

“Can’t the sun come any faster?” Grian groaned to himself. He reached into his satchel glancing around for a clock. Upon fiddling around for only a moment he remembered he left it inside in a chest. Flipping the flap closed he just stayed laying on the ground choosing to just wait it out, did how long he had left even change that?

“...You still up Gri?” Scar softly asked him in a half asleep haze. His eyes were still closed or atleast Grian assumed they were up. The man had that dumb fedora flopped onto his face. It made even less sense, not stirring when hearing yelling, but doing so at only a small murmur.

“Just get some sleep, we have a long day in the morning collecting more reputation points for your dumb board.” Grian spoke a bit too snarky. It wasn’t his fault Scar had chosen to wake up and bother him. He should have known Grian the clipped avian was in a foul mood. It wasn’t his fault.

“Right, my genius plan of creating alliances, it's gonna come through when the first person falls red.” Scar spoke happily with a yawn. A smile spread across his lips as he chuckled softly at himself. The genius idea of befriending people that will kill you sooner or later just to win a game. For what? An empty promise of a wish from a disembodied voice?

“Just shut up already so I can sleep.” Grian snapped back though he gave a small smile. It was hard to not grin along when glancing at that idiot. The dumbass that thought he could control sand that covered an entire desert. The imbecile that thinks this is all still just a fun game with friends. Scar the person Grian has to keep alive, no…. Scar is the one he can't bring himself to lose.

@vialofarsenic hope you like your hermitcraft secret Santa gift

#life series #3rd life #grian #Scar #goodtimeswithscar #You can read them as platonic or romantic #the watchers

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formerlycookierunauprompts · 11 months ago

Note

Hi, hello! I have an actual request this time, I know a real shocker. Anyways since I’ve been exploring a cookie with a seriously degrading mental health with a side order of depression and anxiety, I was wondering if you could write shadow milk cookie after being released. He sees a cookie he recognizes a cookie within the group. Reader would be either a beast like them that didn’t get sealed or a long lived cookie race that doesn’t look all to good. From an outside perspective they probably only look a little tired but to shadow milk the difference between how they used to be and now is striking. Would he think them pathetic or would he be concerned? Maybe help in his own way, up to you. Hope you have fun with the prompt see you.

so i may have gotten a bit too silly and wrote for GBC instead of the reader. yeah :P but anyways i hope you still enjoy!

(post writing comment : i think I may have accidentally strayed a bit from the prompt.)

Requested Prompts #35 - 💔

Their efforts hadn't been enough. It had seemed at first like the crack in the tree had been sealed, only for it to burst open again in a vortex of blue disembodied eyes and shadows. Butterscotch Cookie, or rather Golden Butter Cookie as she knew herself as, could only watch on as the shadows spread out of the void alongside his laughter. It almost taunted her, really. Because of her cowardice she'd been afraid to seek out the truth of what had happened to him. It was only due to Rosemary's encouragement that she was able to leave the Toy-Box. " Aaaah! Doesn't this fresh air just feel... divine!" She heard his voice echo, bracing herself alongside the others for him to make his entrance. She was sure that he'd make his entrance grand and boisterous, but what she didn't expect was for more shadow to rush out. It skittered across her vision, blotting out the faerie kingdom and Goldie Butter's comrades, leaving her alone in the darkness. She steeled herself, instinctively putting a hand over her concealed soul jam as she summoned a spear to the other. " Oho? I see that we have an extra special member here in our audience today!" His voice chirped, she could just feel his excitement through his tone. Almost like a cat waiting to pounce. And pounce he did, with a hand made of shadow grabbing and wrapping around her torso she was pulled further into the darkness. She was soon face to face with him once again, Shadow Milk Cookie. It was only him and herself that appeared to be illuminated in the darkness, likely illuminated from the light of their soul jam. Even still, it didn't make seeing him any less difficult in the emotional sense. She could feel everything she felt over the past few thousands of years beginning to bubble up, it felt like she was going to start sobbing from both grief and anger. And yet, she stays silent, only staring up at him with a dulled, weak glare. How could she blame him for abandoning her when he got sealed by the witches? Of course, she didn't know exactly when but... " Wow. Goldie, starlight, you look... terrible." He almost seems surprised, heck, maybe he even is. The hand sets her down unto the shadowy ground, it feels like it's made of solid liquid... Don't ask how that feels but it's similar to jelly I suppose. She brushes herself off, looking back up at him. " Anyone would after getting abandoned with no answers to their questions for thousands of years." She can see him recoil with a wince at her harsh words, making it rather clear that he feels remorse for at least this. He laid on his stomach, at least trying to get on her eye level. " Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to leave you like that." He apologized, Golden Butter scanned his face for any signs of deception... Even though she knew that there was likely none. " I didn't mean to go and get sealed, the witches took us by surprise!" He excused himself. " I heard." She began. " ... You should have known that they'd come for you all eventually." " I thought that they'd do it one by one!" He exclaimed. " I thought that, with all of us together... minus you of course I know you didn't want to drag yourself into our mess, that we could beat them!" Golden Butter waited for the 'but' that was soon to come. " But..." And there it was. " But you weren't, were you now?" She asked, tilting her head to the side a bit. He visibly deflated. " Nope, not at all." He sighed, resting his head in his arms. There was a beat of silence before that wild grin of his made it's way back into his face. " But now, we can make up for lost time!" He cheered, getting up onto his feet and grabbing Golden Butter Cookie from the shadow hand with a spin.

Soon, the spinning stopped. Leaving her a bit disoriented and grasping at Shadow Milk's hands to stabilize herself. " Oh I'm just so so so so so excited to finally get to talk with you again! I missed you so much Goldie!" He exclaimed, Golden Butter thought for a moment that if he wasn't holding her then he'd be bouncing on his feet. But then, another thought came to mind. " Shadow Milk Cookie," She began, her voice once again stern. " If I'm here... then what's going on with my frie-" She catches herself, " The other cookies I was with." " Oh, them. Well they wanted a fight sooooo.... I just gave them one of my puppets to play with! They aren't important anyways, what's important is you and me!" He chirped, he looked extremely excited... And Golden Butter doubted that she could get out of this easily... plus, she had also missed him.

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk #cookie run au #cr kingdom #shadow milk cookie #cookie run au prompts #beast yeast #shadow milk cookie x oc #Golden Butter Cookie Tag #cookie run x oc #I didn't realize i hadn't posted this on tumblr

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sombersummerskies · 8 months ago

Text

A Sage's Regret: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Sky

Word Count: 4438

CW: None

Want all the chapters? -> Masterlist

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Drip. Drip. Drip.

You stare at the cold stone floor you were sat on as you attempt to get a hold of your surroundings.

A new place. The room you had awoken in felt ancient. Large roots had burrowed their way through the ground and walls, small twigs and plants peeking out in the cracks of the floor. The air was chilly, and it didn’t help that you were only dressed in undergarments and rags. A quick glance around the room tells you that there is only one exit, a doorway on the wall ahead of you which has overgrown vines hanging in front of it.

A new voice. Something, or you suppose someone, disembodied had spoken to you. Whoever it was, they had known your name, speaking to you once you woke up. They even mentioned Zelda, which had caused your ears to perk up. They explained that despite the severity of your wounds, you were able to escape with your life. However, part of your body had been so critically damaged that it had to be replaced.

A new arm. It was an immediate shock when you woke up, your body immediately recoiling from the unfamiliar sensation. Your right arm was changed, from the fingertips up to the span of your shoulder. It was charcoal in color, a thin layer of fur that felt somewhat rough when you touched it. Rather than fingernails your right hand now had something a little more akin to pointed claws. Along with the arm came a series of banded jewelry that wrapped around your arm and small rings on each of your fingers.

You told yourself it was better than having to get an amputation. Just remembering the feeling of the gloom creeping up along your side sent chills through your body. But the feeling of a replaced limb was odd and jarring. You slowly moved each finger, examining them, as if your brain was trying to rewire itself to the new ligaments, joints, and nerves.

You knew that you were upset. But you couldn’t waste time by trying to figure out your new limb. You had to figure out where you were, and most importantly, you needed to figure out what had happened to Zelda.

It is only when you stand and face the room’s exit that something shimmers, catching your eye.

Slowly you walk toward the object. It’s something metal and reflective that has been embedded into one of the roots. The end of it is blue, like the hilt of a sword, and-

A shuddering gasp racks through your throat, and you clap your hand over your mouth (though you recoil at the odd texture of the fur).

The Master Sword.

Your hand trembles as you reach out to grasp it. Your right hand, still foreign to you, wraps around the hilt and you gently pull it out of the root. While the sword’s handle seems mostly intact, it is the blade that has suffered the most from the gloom attack. The majority of the sword’s length has been shattered, and what remains is rusted and decayed. With your left hand, you trace your fingers over the emblem of the Triforce, the symbol of the goddesses, which has luckily been left untouched.

A tear rolls down your cheek. Then a second. You sob as you cradle the sword in your hands. Your life’s purpose had been destroyed, and you were not sure if there was anything you could do to fix it.

“Maybe- maybe if I speak to the Deku Tree,” you whisper as you cry, “or- or I could visit the goddess statues in the springs-”

If Zelda were here she could tell you what to do. Surely there would be something in her studies, something in the literature of the castle which could help. But she wasn’t here. You had lost her.

She was gone.

Zelda had fallen into the cavern beneath the castle. Or at least you think she did, but as she was falling she was covered in a golden glow. But the fall had been caused by that mysterious mummy lifting the rock.

The mummy…

You had no idea what or who he was. You knew not of his goals or intentions. You were not even sure how long he had been below the castle, trapped beneath layers of dark tunnels and stone and earth.

One thing was for certain. All of this was his fault. The gloom, the sickness, your arm, your sword, your best friend. It was all his doing.

The longing sadness in your heart quickly morphed into something else. Your eyes narrowed as you stood up straight, wiping the tears from your face. You stretched out your right arm, feeling the weight of the damaged sword. You could feel your heart begin to pump in your chest as your nerves flared, a fiery new emotion running through your body, energizing every limb.

Anger.

No, it was so much more than anger. You felt rage. You felt wrath. Most importantly, you sought revenge. Revenge against this mysterious man who had taken everything from you.

You move through the strange building with purpose. As you attempt to find an exit you come across sculptures with runic text inscribed on them, almost identical to the ruins you’d found beneath the castle. Zonai ruins. You discover an odd piece of ancient technology that reacts to your new right arm. When you hold your palm up to the platform it activates a set of cogs that open a new doorway for you.

Eventually, after a short hike, swim, and climb (where you notice you feel significantly weaker than before, a side effect of being attacked by gloom), you find your way out. Sunlight greets you at the end of a long tunnel and it almost brings a smile to your face. Your feet carry you to the end.

You were not sure how long you had been asleep for, but based on the soreness of your muscles when you awoke it must have been an entire day at the very least. You couldn’t wait to stand in the sun again, tired of being stuck in caves and caverns. Your body sought the fresh air, you wanted to stand in the fields of Hyrule and take in a deep breathe, stretch out your arms, and-

At the end of the hallway, you skid to a halt. Your wide eyes scan your surroundings, unable to believe what you are seeing. The wind blew past you, chilling your skin and making you shake as you looked down-

You were in the sky.

Thousands of feet above the ground, standing on the edge of a skinny little platform that somehow, miraculously, was floating. It took everything in you to remain calm and not start hyperventilating or panicking. Though there was a thick layer of clouds preventing you from seeing the land below, there were a few sites you could recognize. The peak of Death Mountain, the range of Hebra Mountain, and the span of the Gerudo Desert.

This wasn’t the only island in the sky either. As you spun around there were a plethora of other floating archipelagos scattered across Hyrule. All of them are odd shapes and various sizes.

‘Where did all of this come from? How long was I asleep?’

…

Two weeks.

It had now been two weeks since the Upheaval. Zora’s Domain had been in disarray since, and this disaster with the endless sludge rain had only made matters worse. Not only had all the rivers and waterways become infected, but on the first day the sludge appeared a monster had come with it. King Dorephan himself fought the beast off but had become grievously injured.

With the king unable to rule as he healed, it was Prince Sidon who had to take the lead. The prince had been working tirelessly ever since to ensure his people were fed and safe. The primary problem they faced is that the sludge seemed to be toxic to Zora, meaning the infected waterways were inaccessible to them. An infection of the scales could easily be healed by the nurses in the palace, but if the sludge was stuck in someone’s gills or ingested it could lead to permanent injuries- or worse.

After securing a reliable food source the next step was to find a solution for cleaning the water. Many things had been attempted, from using netting to pouring elixirs into the water, but nothing had been successful. That was until Prince Sidon recalled an ability that he had recently discovered he possessed.

Water manipulation. Like his sister and his mother before him, Sidon had the ability to will flowing water to follow his commands. He could direct it, shape it, and even use it as a shield or to enhance the strength of his weapon. Where Mipha had used this skill for acts of healing, the prince would be using it to clean the infected water.

With his ability to manipulate the liquid, he was able to pull the clean water out of the sludge and separate the two. Thus, after thorough planning and discussion, it was decided the prince would be stationed at the top of Ploymus Mountain. This mountain contained the water source from which the vast majority of waterways in the domain flowed. The recently constructed Mipha Court was atop the mountain as well, a beautifully carved fountain named after the prince’s beloved sister.

The plan had been a success thus far. With Sidon working diligently atop the mountain, the water that flowed between the peak and down into the palace’s lake below was clean and safe for Zora to traverse through. With the water being cleansed, nurses could focus on healing the affected citizens as the guards and council worked to find a solution to the overall problem.

Unfortunately, there was a negative side effect to all of this. Prince Sidon was exhausted. He had not had a full night’s rest ever since the sludge had begun to fall. The only rest he allowed himself was in incredibly short bursts, perhaps an hour at most before he would immediately return to his task. Along with the lack of his sleep, he was barely eating, deciding it more important to continue cleansing the water.

The symptoms of the strain he was putting his body through were obvious. He would frequently feel hunger pains, lose his balance, and feel faint. His arms were sore from having to constantly hold them out to manipulate the water. He had no doubt that visibly he must have looked exhausted as well.

In his mind, he was sure that this would all be worth it. This was his duty, his responsibility, by birth he was sworn to this. He could not ask anyone else to perform this task, it would fill him with too much guilt. Lady Yona had already offered multiple times to assist in cleansing the waters. He had told her no as well, even after quite a bit of insistence on her part.

His father was sick, and according to Muzu, he was making no progress in healing. His darli- the Hylian knight was missing, and even after two weeks there were no advancements in the search for her. At this point, if anyone else he knew were put in harm's way or lost to him he feared the pain it would cause in his heart.

“Prince Sidon!” a voice calls out.

Sidon jolts, pulled away from his thoughts. It was midday, judging by the sun’s position in the sky, and for the first time in what felt like hours, he moved his gaze away from the infested water he had been cleansing. He tilts his head and glances back, greeted by a familiar face.

“Bazz,” the prince greets him, though his voice is slightly hoarse, “my friend, how are you? Have you any news?”

“I’m well, although I should be the one asking you that question,” the captain retorts, “you look… tired. Have you eaten today?”

The prince shakes his head, “no, I’m far too focused on my task. Besides, I fear if I do attempt to eat I will not be able to stomach it.”

“I thought as much,” Bazz responds, “which is why I brought you this.”

The grey Zora holds a hand out toward the prince. When Sidon looks down he realizes that Bazz holds a bottle, the liquid that swirls within it is a deep magenta hue. A hearty elixir.

“Thank you, but I must focus on-”

Bazz quickly interrupts, “no one will be upset if you stop for just a moment. Please, prince. You’re going to harm yourself if you continue at this pace.”

Sidon hesitates, his gaze returning to the water he stood in. He had his duty, but even he knew his limits. His body was pleading with him, showing all the signs of depleted energy. With a sigh he lowers his hands, the blue glow in his palms fading away.

He takes the bottle and uncorks it. For just a moment he observes the drink, watching it swirl and shimmer in the sunlight. Then he tilts his head back and greedily drinks the whole of it, while it may not have tasted stellar it went down his throat with ease. Almost immediately he could feel the effects of the medicine, the soreness of the muscles in his arms dissipated and the cloudiness of his fatigued mind cleared up.

As Bazz takes the bottle back he says, “sit, for just a minute, I can’t imagine how long you’ve been standing here.”

The prince accepts the invitation, though it’s not as if he needs permission to do so- just some gentle persuasion. Even better than sitting, he chooses to lay down in the fountain. The cool, clean water washes over him, refreshing his scales and soothing his nerves. He takes a moment to breathe in deeply, eyes looking up at all of the mysterious floating islands in the sky.

“Now,” Sidon says, glancing toward the captain, “is there any news?”

Bazz nods, “some Zora who feel unsafe within the domain have been attempting to find passageways to go west of the Lanaryu region. They hope to seek refuge in Lookout Landing if the conditions there are faring better than ours here. However, the rivers have sludge-infested water, and many of the land roads are blocked off as well. This means some have chosen to go north, using the waterfalls to travel to Akkala.”

Sidon mulls over this, “it is sad to know our citizens are choosing to leave, but, if there are safer places to shelter elsewhere I do not blame them for choosing to do so. Hopefully, once we have this disaster solved, they can all return home. How about my father, how is he faring?”

The captain grimaces, “not well, based on the brief conversation I had with Muzu.”

“I see,” the prince replies with a frown, “I can only hope our healers find a solution to this sludge poison soon. And…”

His voice trails off. He knows what he wants to ask, but he fears the answer he will be told.

“Prince…?” Bazz replies expectantly.

“Princess Zelda and her knight,” Sidon continues, a tinge of hopefulness in his words, “is there any news of them? Any word from Purah in the landing?”

A small glance downward from Bazz is the only sign Sidon needs to know. “... there’s nothing, is there?” the prince sighs, voice faltering, “I am not sure how many more times I can handle being told that.”

The prince feels a hand on his shoulder, an attempt from his friend to comfort him.

“Do you think… do you think I’ve made the wrong choice, Bazz?” he asks, staring down at his hands.

“If I can be frank, I really don’t think you made the choice at all,” the captain responds, “from the outside looking in, it very much felt forced upon you.”

“But in the end, it was still my decision… I said yes to the engagement. And it has pushed _____ away from me. Perhaps if I hadn’t said yes, perhaps if I had been with her then she wouldn’t have-”

Bazz quickly cuts him off, “you cannot possibly be blaming yourself for her disappearance. No one knows what has caused them to go missing. Don’t be so absurd-”

“I know it’s not true-” the prince groans, “I know this- and yet my heart aches so painfully as if it were my doing. As if this were my fault. All I can do until she is found is pray that wherever she is, she is safe.”

“I am sure she is,” Bazz replies, “she’s a capable fighter. Whatever is happening, she’s likely the most well-equipped in the whole kingdom to handle it.”

Sidon sighs, standing up and putting his arms out once more. Effortlessly he is able to bring the blue glow back to his palms, the water before him reacting to his power. It was time to return to his duties.

“I truly hope so,” he whispers to himself, “with all I have, I hope she is safe.”

…

‘I really hope this works.’

You stare up at the doors before you. Tall, wide, with dragons carved into them. Carvings you had become all too familiar with during your three days on the Great Sky Island. You had attempted to open the doors before, but you lacked the strength. The encounter with the mummy and the gloom had weakened you significantly more than you thought.

The Great Sky Island had been an enigma to you. A giant mass of land floating high in the sky above Hyrule. You were joined by the spirit of Rauru, who identified himself as the source of your new right arm. He had saved you after the attack beneath Hyrule Castle. Rauru, you quickly realized, was a Zonai, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the statues you and Zelda had come across.

You’d spent your time roaming the land and fulfilling new shrines. They reminded you of the Sheikah Shrines, but Rauru explained that these were far older. It was likely that the Zonai from ages ago had inspired the technology of the Sheikah.

Completing four of these shrines had given you four new abilities, which you had to use your new arm to access. Ultrahand, which allowed you a telekinetic ability to lift and move objects into the air, as well as bind them together. Fuse, which allowed you to attach a wide variety of objects to your weapons, shields, and even arrow tips. Ascend, which gave you the rather freaky ability to jump up and push your body through solid objects so long as there was a flat platform for you to stand on at the very top. And finally, Recall, which allows you to target an object and send it back in time.

Recall was the oddest ability. You had not received in a shrine, but rather, at the Temple of Time. In the temple, you were met by a shimmering vision of Princess Zelda. You had run toward her excitedly, only to realize it was a mere mirage. But the vision had held its hand out and bestowed this time ability upon you.

You had also spent your time being educated by Rauru on various matters of the Zonai. He introduced you to constructs, ancient robotic creatures crafted by the Zonai to fulfill various tasks. The constructs taught you about your new battery cells, which would allow you access to Zonai Devices. There were many times during your journey across the floating islands that you would find Rauru lost in thought, and contemplating. Though you weren’t sure exactly who he was, it was clear he seemed to harbor regret in his heart. Many of his words seemed to mourn the loss of his people and civilization.

Now here you were, in front of a set of doors that acted as a barrier to the outside world. You had prayed to the goddess statue after completing the four shrines, and it felt as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders when you had. Rauru had told you that with every Shrine of Light you completed, it would help you combat the gloom that your body had been tarnished by.

You take in a deep breath before you press your palms to the door and shove. Your right arm begins to glow a bright green, and this same light begins to flow through the runes on the door. Though it saps your strength you continue to push harder, heart pounding as you watch the light swirl and rise up through the dragon carving.

Just when you think you’ve reached your limit, there’s an audible click. You press forward, your feet carrying you as the doors finally begin to move as well. Dust and debris fall from the ceiling, signifying how much time has passed since this entryway was last used. You’re greeted by the beginning of today’s sunrise, thin wisps of an orange glow starting to appear on the horizon.

You feel a presence and glance to the side, unsurprised when you see the figure of Rauru’s spirit standing alongside you once more.

“Ah, good,” he smiles, nodding his head at you, “I see you have managed to open the door. You haven’t fully recovered yet, but that’s to be expected- you were almost beyond saving… by visiting the shrines and receiving their blessing, you have mitigated some of the corruption’s effects”

You glance down at your right arm. When you look up at Rauru, even in the form of a spirit his arm is a ghostly match to your own. You were able to put two and two together and realize that he was what was keeping the mummified man trapped deep below the castle. It gives you pause, wondering just what exactly this man must have sacrificed for powers such as these.

When you look back up you find that he gazes down at you with a gentle smile, “though our time together has been brief, I am so happy that we finally met… you are exactly as Zelda said. I’ve done everything I can for her. Now it is up to you.”

There are so many questions you have for him, so much you need to know. How could he possibly have known Zelda? He speaks of her with a fondness that only close familiarity could bring. How was she able to tell him about you? How had he given you his arm? Who was the being beneath the castle?

Just as you open your mouth to speak, he says one final thing to you.

“Brave Hylian,” he says, looking toward the rising sun, “I have no doubts in you. But I notice that your heart and soul are filled with rage. While I do not blame you for this, please take one final word of advice from me.”

His spirit is fading quickly, and you panic as you reach a hand out towards him.

“Do not act on your own, no matter how angry you become, no matter how greatly you seek revenge against your foe,” he says. Though he is calm, you pick up on the seriousness of his tone, “you have allies, you must seek out their aid. Look to your friends. You are not alone, _____.”

He fades away far too quickly, you barely even have the chance to utter a goodbye. You breathe in deeply, eyes stuck staring at the spot where the Zonai spirit had once stood. With the back of your palm, you wipe your cheeks before turning your attention back to the road before you.

It’s a floating pathway, though the stone is cracked and broken and uneven. You traverse it carefully, fearing the worst should you fall right off the edge. With no paraglider, you have had to be extremely careful with the heights you jump from. As you hop up and ascend through a rocky platform, you notice a glowing light at the end of the path.

You jog towards it, curious to examine it. There’s a lifted pedestal in the center of what looks like was once a pavilion. Atop the pedestal is a glowing, golden orb of light. Just as you bring your hand closer, a rune on the back of your palm begins to glow. Recall.

The golden light grows brighter and at the same time, there’s a ringing in your ear. You gasp. The Master Sword was responding, for the first time since you’d awoken. You quickly grasp the hilt and look, and though the blade is damaged it still attempts to shimmer with blue light.

When you hold up the sword it gently hums, as though it’s reacted to the golden orb. As if it’s trying to tell you something.

“You want… to go into the light?” you ask, cradling it gently.

The blue light of the sword, though dim, attempts to flash brighter.

Cautiously you hold out the sword. The golden orb takes it, and you watch with wide eyes as the Master Sword is lifted into the air. There’s a click, the sound of Recall being activated, and in an instant, the glow disappears.

Along with the Master Sword.

You choke, reaching out, but all you grasp is empty air. It had taken your sword from you. You quickly calm yourself down, the golden glow didn’t seem malevolent, and your sword had responded positively to its presence.

This must have been a good thing. Surely. Though it pained you to be without your trusted blade, you had to convince yourself it was what was for the best.

The ground beneath your feet rumbles, and just for a moment you recall how it had felt beneath the castle. When the ground shook and forced you and the princess apart. Luckily nothing nearly as drastic happens here, as you quickly realize the source of the sound.

A dragon bursts through the layer of cloud, a piercing roar leaving its mouth as it flies higher into the sky. You recognize the dragon, though it’s not one of the three which you’ve seen from the ground. This one had been flying around the Great Sky Island for the last few days.

At first, you thought it might’ve been Farosh, the protector of the Spring of Courage. But you soon realized this wasn’t the case. This dragon had a beautiful, golden mane of hair that flowed along its head and back. Along its spine were a series of turquoise crystal-like spikes, which reminded you somewhat of luminous stones.

“Gorgeous,” you murmured, watching in amazement as it soared higher and higher.

Beneath you the thick cloud cover dissipates, finally granting you access to see the land below. A relieved sigh escapes you once your gaze lands on Lookout Landing. At the same time, you’re unable to stop your eyes as they flick toward the East in search of Zora’s Domain.

Due to the distance, it’s far too hazy to make out the details. But there’s a pounding in your heart when your eyes settle on the Lanaryu region, gaze trailing over the shape of Ploymus Mountain and the surrounding highlands.

You force yourself to tear your eyes away. Looking directly below the platform you stood, thousands of feet below was a large lake. Large enough to catch your fall with no problem. You’d jumped from great heights before, but nothing this daunting. You take a step back and breathe in, soothing your nerves.

“I need to find Zelda,” you say to yourself, “this is the first step.”

You count the beat of your heart. One, then two, then three. There was no time like the present.

You leap over the edge.

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#botw #breath of the wild #totk #tears of the kingdom #loz #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #female reader #prince sidon #prince sidon x reader #sidon x reader

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