#black clad swordsman

[sealedsanctuary]

霹靂 Pili · 黑衣劍少 Black Prince / Black Clad Swordsman

霹靂圖騰 Pili: Totem | 霹靂異數之龍圖霸業 Pili Anomalous: The Dragon Domination | 霹靂封靈島 Pili: Sealed Spirits Island | 霹靂兵燹 Pili: Military Conflagration

[comradeghosty]

Would My Lady Like to Dance? (NSFW)

NSFW Zoro x reader fic

Summary:

You are on a secret mission with some of the Strawhats to get some important documents. Things go awry and you find yourself hiding with Zoro.

Tags: nsfw, jealous Zoro, PWP, rough sex, light BDSM themes, hair pulling, vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise, possessive behavior, biting, a bit of blood, regency/ballroom attire

!!! 18+ !!!

I also posted it on AO3

The mission was simple enough: infiltrate the ball, find the documents, and get out. For some reason Nami needed these Grandline maps and you were definitely not about to argue with her. The plan was for you to dress up and pretend like you were a guest. Everybody had their own separate role to fill, so you split up into teams to prepare yourselves. Since you were dressing up as a guest, you worked with Nami to get a costume and go over all of the correct proceedings so you wouldn’t stand out. By the time you were done, you were a proper lady. All of you had to arrive separately to not arouse suspicion, so when you got to the ball, you tried to look around inconspicuously to find your crew.

The first person you saw was Robin. She was dressed plainly and playing the violin in the live orchestra. You saw Sanji running food from the kitchen, and Luffy dressed in a little chauffeur outfit taking peoples coats. He just was kind of tossing them into the coat closet in a pile and it made you chuckle. Your eyes scanned the ballroom, taking in all of the people dressed fancily. The last person you were expecting to see was Zoro since everybody else was staying on the ship in case a hasty exit was needed. Nervously, you smoothed your dress. It was light green silk that had a high waist and small bust. The fabric draped loosely down your legs and it bunched in small puffs over your shoulders. Elbow length gloves hid your calloused hands.

You took in your surroundings, people danced with their partners and chatted amongst the edges of the dance floor. The room was large and you noted faces of important people that you might need to talk with during the night, specifically looking and catching the eyes of the host, who began to wander in your direction. With a coy wave of your fan and a bashful look, you began your job for the night. 

As you talked with the host, you acted curious about him, in a way that made him feel intelligent and impressive. Men always revealed more when they bragged about themselves. Slowly, you started to catalog more and more information about him, feeling confident that he had the documents you needed stored away somewhere in his estate. You egged him on, about to request a personal tour of the mansion, when you were rudely distracted. If you were not so entranced, you would’ve been pissed at him for distracting you. 

Over the host's shoulder, a vision of a certain green haired man appeared. However, it was not the sweaty and crass swordsman you knew. He was a gentleman, draped in this beautiful white fabric with billowing sleeves that hid his muscles. The cravat accentuated the sharpness of his jawline, and his slick backed hair made his gaze more piercing than usual. He wore a pair of pants that hugged his slim waist, two columns of gold buttons fastening them. The metal of the buttons complimented the gold jewelry that hung from his ear. His hands were clad in black leather gloves, which he seemed to be adjusting a bit nervously. 

You were snapped from your trance by the host touching your arm, gently but insistent. He asked if you were alright, to which you nodded evenly and excused yourself, promising to find him a bit later. 

As you approached the swordsman, a startled look crossed his face for a moment before he corrected his expression. His eye roved down your body, registering your attire. You smiled, touching his arm briefly before curtsying. “Don’t worry, Zoro. We are allowed to interact here,” you reassured him, assuming his expression was anxiety about being recognized. 

He bowed deeply, one arm pressed against his torso and the other placed against the small of his back. Before he raised his body, his head peeked up to look at you. “I’m not worried about it, my lady,” he teased. His eye crinkled slightly, a wide smile stretching across his face. You felt yourself blush at his expression, unsure of whether he was making fun of you or was impressed by you. His teeth seemed to shine as he offered you a hand, which you took gracefully. Zoro pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, still smiling up at you. “Would my lady like to dance?”

God, what was going on? Of course, you had always noticed that Zoro was handsome. Who wouldn’t? But seeing him like this, all poised and dressed up, made you feel flustered. You could feel the blush on your cheeks as you nodded dumbly at him. If he could have smiled wider, he would have.

In a swift motion, his hand had gripped yours and you felt the other one on your waist. Zoro was suddenly very near, pressing your bodies against each other as he swept you up in a dance that led you to the ballroom floor. His swept back hair revealed the handsome planes of his face. Somehow, his features looked more intense than usual as you stared up at him. His face was twisted in a smirk, as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. 

“So the swordsman cleans up nicely, huh?”

Your hand tightened slightly on his shoulder, but you gave him a carefree smile. “Evidently so, you look very handsome tonight,” you praised. The compliment made Zoro quirk an eyebrow, hiding his smile out of your sight. He smelled incredible, which struck you as odd. The usual musky sweat, booze, and steel scent that cloyed to the swordsman was replaced by a leathery, sandalwood, citrusy smell. There were still remnants of booze, which most likely just leaked from Zoro’s pores.  

“I didn’t know you could dance, Zoro,” you teased.

The swordsman chuckled, spinning you expertly. Somehow you ended up closer to him, if that was even possible the way he pressed your bodies together. “Robin taught me, and dressed me, and put this perfume stuff on me… I’m guessing she did a good job then?” Zoro’s brow quirked at the inquiry. You nodded your head, blushing and hiding your face against his shoulder.

“Tsk, look at me. It’s not lady-like to hide your face,” he murmured in your ear. When you looked up, his eye gleamed with mischief. “You look lovely tonight as well.”

This time, you couldn’t hide your blush. Butterflies blossomed in your stomach at the compliment, and you were speechless for the first time all night. The music ended, signaling that your dance was over. “Get back to your task. Be safe, please.” Zoro whispered into your hair, and your breath caught in your throat. He pulled away from you, bowing again and kissing your gloved hand, before dismissing himself to roam the ballroom once more.

~

The crisp night air cooled your skin as you stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air. In order to find the papers, you had agreed to meet the host in his study. You walked to the railing, crossing your arms and resting against it. Stars sparkled in the sky and the scent of pine was in the air. You thought about what you were going to do when meeting with the host. A few moments seemed to pass before a clearing of a throat made you startle. You quickly looked over and found the green haired swordsman staring at you intensely.

“Oh, Zoro, it's just you,” you breathed. A hand rested on your chest from being startled, and you missed the way Zoro’s eye quickly flitted down to your breast and back up. “I’m glad you’re here. I think I can get the papers soon.”

Zoro’s brow quirked up, his eye studying your face intently. It was clear he was waiting for you to finish explaining. You shuffle a little, a bit awkward but confident in your plan. As if Zoro could sense your nervousness, he looked out at the expanse of forest beyond the estate.

“He’s asked me to meet him in his study,” you stated plainly. Your cheeks burned a bit red at the potential implications of the host’s request. 

“Yeah, okay. Just don’t do anything stupid,” he muttered.

Your eyes flitted away from him, face red. A noise resembling a scoff escaped your lips rather clumsily. “Stupid? Please. I am very smart, the sneakiest one in our crew, actually. Thanks for the vote of confidence though,” you said flatly, rolling your eyes at the swordsman. 

“I… okay. Whatever,” Zoro dismissed you, slightly turning away from you.

“What?” you demanded him to say what he was going to say.

“Just…” he sighed, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You breathed out fast, frustrated by his vagueness. One of your hands gripped his firm bicep, prompting him to look at you. “Zoro, then what do you mean? I don't understand.”

The green haired man looked at you, his eye dark and stern. Fierce energy radiated off of him. “God, woman. You’re going to make me say it out loud? I… Just…. Don't do something he forces you to do. Call for me, and I’ll make sure you’re safe,” he grit out. Both of his hands were clenched in fists by his side, silently getting worked up.

“Oh… Oh. Well,” you snorted, a short laugh as you realized what he was so worried about. “Honestly, if it means that we can get the documents and get out of here, I don’t mind doing it. They’re kind of extremely important, y’know?”

You had never seen Zoro move so quickly, turning to face you in a split second. His eye glared at you, wide and intense. You could see the muscles in his jaw work as he ground his teeth together. It was as if his whole body was on high alert, and you blushed at his intensity. His mouth opened for a second, as if he was going to say something, but he closed it, jaw clenching again. You saw Zoro’s shoulders drop, his muscles relaxing slightly. His lip turned out in a small pout.

“Hmph… I… hmph. Just, call me if you feel like you’re in danger, okay?” You watched as he spun around, quickly hurrying away from the balcony. His shoes clacked on the stone and his white shirt flowed in the wind. You felt your stomach flutter watching him leave.

For a moment, you stood silently and stared out at the pine forest. Zoro’s reaction was hard to decipher, as much as you tried to understand it. Briefly, you wondered if he was jealous, but you brushed it aside. No way. As you made your way to the host’s study, nervousness rested heavily in your chest. Wanting to maintain your confident air, you straightened your shoulders and stood tall, steeling yourself for this interaction. You knocked on the study door and entered, unknowing of the swordsman lurking around the corner. 

~

About 30 minutes later, you emerge alone from the room. You habitually straightened your appearance since you were about to join the company again, which was not missed by Zoro who lingered nearby. He waited around the corner, not wanting to be seen accosting you, but knowing you’d run into him on your way back to the ballroom. As you turned the corner, found yourself face to face with the swordsman, jumping a little from the fright. 

“Oh! Zoro, you scared me,” you murmured, being startled by him for the second time this night. Zoro’s hand found the small of your back, ushering you in the direction of the crowd.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his mouth downturned and expression severe. “Come on. Did you get the maps?” Your heels clicked in tandem with his black boots on the floor. 

“Yes,” you nodded, eyes straying to look at his expression.

Zoro only hummed to acknowledge you, offering you his arm before entering the dance hall. For a moment, both of you stood there staring at each other. There was an indiscernible expression in Zoro’s eye. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, thinking, planning… he revealed nothing. 

You took his arm and followed his lead into the ballroom before parting ways. The intention was to split up and inform the crew about the completion of the mission. Weaving your way through the audience, you made contact with Robin before going to find Luffy. Zoro had made his way to find Sanji in the kitchen before reappearing. You searched around the ballroom for Luffy, unable to see his messy dark hair and bright smile, and worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. 

Suddenly, there was a lot of commotion and clatter from the room adjacent to the one you were in. Your body froze, knowing that you were about to have to make a quick getaway, when you heard gunshots echoing through the halls. Just before you were about to make a decision, you made eye contact with Zoro from across the room. It’s as if your body moved on its own, sprinting towards him and grabbing his hand as he dragged you behind him to safety. If it hadn’t been for your panicked brain, you would’ve realized that Zoro was only going to get you guys lost, but you didn’t even consider it. Before long, you realized you didn’t recognize your surroundings anymore. You could still hear fighting, so you decided to duck into the first closet you saw to wait out the clamor. The abrupt stop and yank of Zoro into the closet had him off balance, and you couldn’t stop either of you before landing in a heap on some jackets. He reached behind him and slammed the door, and you winced knowing it would probably alert somebody of your presence in the area. You took stock of your situation, knowing that Luffy probably got you into said situation, and that people were probably scattering. You realized that you probably had to stay in the closet for a little while, with Zoro. Oh god, Zoro who currently had you pinned beneath him. 

You looked up, right into a piercingly dark eye that seemed to be taking you apart as you lay under him. Both your breathing and heartbeat increased, and you were suddenly very aware of the proximity to him. His eye roamed down your face, pausing for a second on your lips before traveling further. You felt it rake over your neck, lingering for a second before gazing unashamedly at your breasts. The dress you were wearing could be called revealing, showing lots of cleavage and giving the illusion that they were barely contained. You blushed as you felt him staring. 

“Z- Zoro?” You stammered out, “did you hit your head? You seem dazed.”

“No,” he replied. His voice was firm, confident, and it made you shiver. You watched his brows furrow slightly and his jaw clench.

You took a deep breath and tried once more. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head when we fell in here?” As your hand came up to check for any head wounds, it was stopped quickly when a large hand wrapped tightly around your wrist.

“No.” And this time you could tell he’s irritated. You swallowed thickly, nervous and shaking a little. The way he loomed over you made you feel like a prey animal, his demeanor dangerous in the same way he acts when he is facing down an enemy.

“Ah, Zor-”

“Shut. Up. Don’t fucking speak,” he grit out. He kept staring, unblinking, at your chest. You felt yourself start to shake, mind racing through all of the reasons he might be angry with you.

“Does it feel good? Huh?” Zoro snapped at you, his voice quiet and clipped. Your brows furrowed up at him, unsure to speak or be silent. The closet was way too small for the two of you right now, his energy emanating from him like flames. Zoro and you had always gotten along pretty well, often training together and napping together. He never used that tone of voice with you before. “Don’t play dumb with me, woman.” 

Zoro trapped you underneath him, his knees pinning the skirt of your dress. “You like playing dress up? Huh? You like when they look?” 

“Zoro, I-” 

You were cut off again, a gloved hand pressing into your cheeks. “Don’t. Talk,” he enunciated each word with a squeeze of his hand. “I saw you flirting with that man, giving him a show. He was fucking you with his eyes in the middle of that ballroom, and you were encouraging it. You like that? You want him?”

Desperately, you shook your head no. Your eyes were wide, trying to decipher his reaction. There was a certain hesitation in his actions, like he was trying to hold himself back. His shoulders and chest were tense, his jaw clenched and his breathing quick. 

For a moment, both of you just stare at each other, unsure what to do next before suddenly your mouths are crashing together. Zoro kissed with a desperation you’ve never felt before, like he’s trying to consume you. Both of your teeth clashed together, his tongue licking into your mouth. At that moment, everything was Zoro. His smell, his sounds, his touch, it changed you, like you've never been intimate with another person. The passion was a completely different caliber than you’ve ever felt before. Small whines and moans left your lips as Zoro kissed you, feeling completely at his mercy the way he pinned you beneath him.

“Ah, Zoro,” you whined as you felt his teeth scrape along your jawline.

Zoro pulled away from you, looking down at you. He scoffed, his brows furrowed. “Look at you. Listen to you. Fuck, in that fancy ass dress, wearing those ridiculous heels.” Embarrassment washed over your body, heating your skin from your cheeks down your chest. You felt yourself look away from Zoro’s gaze before his hand gripped your chin harshly. Zoro forced you to meet his eye again, his teeth bared. “As if you’re not the filthiest in the room, woman. Pretending you’re a lady, waving that stupid fan.” 

You felt Zoro’s hand move down your arm from where he was gripping your wrist, skimming over your peaked nipples, finding its place at your waist and squeezing. His smile was wicked, one side of his mouth curled up as he groped your body. The other hand found itself squeezing one of your breasts, thumb brushing over your nipple. A gasp escaped your lips as he touched you. “You like that, my lady?” He sneered, sarcastically and coldly.

“Zoro… please..” you whined.

“Zoro? Ha, I’m a gentleman, so I go by sir, remember?” He harshly pinched your nipple through your dress, eliciting a loud moan from you. One of his hands quickly clapped over your mouth, and Zoro tutted at you. “Ah ah, somebody might find us here, like this. Unless you want somebody to find us,” he teased. Zoro leaned down close to your ear, his lips brushing over your lobe. “Don’t let them hear. Those noises are only for me.” 

The top of your dress was yanked down harshly, and you heard the silken fabric tear. Before you could protest, his hands squeezed your breasts hard, pinching them in a way you know will leave a bruise. One of your hands came up to stifle your moans, your eyes watching him as he pinched your nipples harshly. 

“That dress was so fucking tight, your tits were spilling out,” he grit out. Zoro’s calloused hands played with your chest, pulling the skin between his index finger and thumb. “Couldn’t take my eyes off them all night… fuck.” His voice was breathy, needy as he touched you. A slicked strand of his hair fell from where it was stuck, the green hairs draping over his flushed face. His brow was furrowed in concentration, bottom lip sucked between his teeth.

“S- sir,” you whined, one of your hands moving to touch his arm. A small sheen of sweat covered his forehead. He gasped heavily as he ducked his head to your chest, burying it between your breasts.

Zoro’s mouth was hot and needy on you, licking and sucking the soft skin. He whined quietly against your skin as he sucked dark marks into your breast, not worrying about if they would be visible tomorrow or not. 

He began to bunch your skirt up around your hips, his knuckles grazing your bare thighs. You ground your teeth to keep yourself from whining when suddenly his mouth left your breast with a wet pop. It was filthy, the way his mouth was red and swollen from kissing and sucking you, the small string of spit that dripped from his bottom lip, his mussed up hair. The last thing you saw before he ducked under your skirt was a deadly smirk that shot arousal straight to your core.

You groaned and threw your head back when his hands gripped your thighs. Zoro licked a long, wet stripe up the inside of your leg before biting down on your inner thigh. He bit down hard, possessive, like he wanted his teeth marks to be a permanent scar in your skin. A moan escaped your mouth, and you could feel yourself blushing as wetness pooled between your legs. The delicate skin of your inner thighs was already bruising under his grip, and you felt Zoro smile against you. There was something about how easily your body responded to him that brought out something sadistic in him. 

Bright hickies bloomed on your thighs as his mouth and hands roamed the soft skin. Every once in a while, they would brush against your panties, making you whine. The way Zoro took his time had you desperate and needy for him. Your body started relaxing as he kissed you, his nose every so often brushing over the wet spot in your panties. The swordsman gripped your legs, keeping them from shaking, before biting down especially hard on the meat of your thigh. It broke skin, the intensity of which he bit you, and you could feel his tongue laving over the marks. You cried out before clapping a hand over your mouth, face flushed and chest heaving. The swordsman relished in your cries, suckling the spot he had broken skin. He moved to the other thigh, sucking dark marks all over. His mouth was so close to your core, that you could feel his warm breath fanning over your clothed cunt. 

You were broken out of the moment by loud footsteps outside the closet door. The breath caught in your throat and your heart skyrocketed. Getting caught with Zoro at all was not good, but getting caught like this was a nightmare scenario. You tapped on Zoro through the silk of your dress to stop and come out. His head peaked out from your thighs, and for a moment he turned away from you to grab something. Zoro returned to you, his head coming up next to your ear with a low chuckle. His gloved hand gripped your cheeks, forcing you to open your mouth before your fan was shoved between your teeth, like a horse with a bit in its mouth. “Don’t make a fucking noise, unless you want to get caught,” he whispered to you, his smile devious. The swordsman licked against your neck before disappearing again under your skirt.

He brushed against the damp spot on your panties as he smirked into your thigh. You could feel how red your face was, equal parts turned on and terrified of somebody hearing you and opening the closet door. Both of your hands gripped your skirt and you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to focus and not make a sound. Your teeth ground down against the wooden fan between your jaws. Zoro knew how to tease you, how to coax sweet sounds from you, and he wasn’t holding back his efforts.

One of his fingers pushed aside your panties, and you felt him blow a stream of cold air against your core. You grit your teeth and cursed him in your head as you clenched down around nothing. A shiver wracked your body, and Zoro chuckled lowly between your thighs. He just barely skimmed his gloved index finger against your slit, causing your toes to curl. You felt him hum against you, his tongue licking your thigh as he slowly pressed the finger into you. It started slowly, gently pumping in and out as you tried not to give away your presence. 

You jumped when you suddenly felt Zoro’s tongue on your cunt, licking up from where his finger entered you to your clit. He licked against you, flattening his tongue against your lips in lazy strokes. The tip of his tongue flicked your clit every time he reached the top of your slit, building pleasure in your body. It radiated through you in waves as you tried to contain your voice. The steps outside seemed to pace as if they were searching the area. Your hand clutched your mouth, over the fan even, eyebrows drawn tight in desperation. Zoro’s finger curled in your cunt, pressing against the spongy wall and causing your mouth to open briefly and almost drop the fan. Your hands gripped your silken dress, pleasure wracking your body.

Zoro ate you like a starved man, sloppy and needy. You could feel the mix of his spit and your drooling cunt run down your ass, and you flushed with how filthy you felt. Heat nestled in your core and you felt your orgasm building every time Zoro brushed against your clit. Close, so so close, you cried in your head. Gritting your teeth, you resisted the urge to beg for him to keep going, keeping yourself from making noise. Tears slid down your cheeks as you came, throwing your head back in a silent cry. Zoro smirked against you as he felt you clench down around his finger, fucking you through your orgasm to the point of overstimulating you. He never let up, even after your orgasm had finished and you were squirming from the intense sensation.

As if Zoro had been listening for the person outside the door, as soon as their footsteps drew away from the closet, he bit down on your thigh hard again. At the same time, he added a second finger and fucked them into you with more intensity. There was no reprieve from him, he wanted to fuck you stupid. The fan fell from your mouth as your mouth dropped open. A deep moan escaped your lips at the dual sensations of pleasure and pain, as the green haired man licked the bite. 

Zoro drew back from your legs, looking at you intensely. The absolute feral look in his eye made your stomach churn with something primal. He smiled, his sharp canines gleaming dangerously with a bit of your blood. A pink tongue quickly swiped over them, cleaning his teeth with a deep groan. You watched his gloved hand come up to his mouth as he bit down on one of the fingers, yanking the glove off. “Wanna feel you bare,” he stated evenly, pulling the other glove off as well. 

One of his hands came up to grip the back of your neck, slamming you into a bruising kiss. The other of his hands roamed your body, finding a place on your breast to fondle you greedily. He pinched your nipple and massaged you tightly, breaking off the kiss to breathe. Zoro’s forehead rested against your neck, and you could feel him whine softly against you. You pressed your leg up between his thighs, feeling his hard cock against you. Slowly and languidly, he rutted against you. He whined and panted as he thrusted against your leg, growing more needy and desperate by the minute. Both of his brows pinched together and a bead of sweat gathered near his temple. 

Suddenly, he bit down on your neck, sucking a dark mark under your ear. His thrusts became more desperate, a growl escaping his throat. Zoro pulled back, his hands coming down to your hips.

“Fuck it, I can’t wait,” he bit out, his hands grabbing at your panties and tearing the silk fabric. Zoro was impatient, desperate at this point. He grabbed the waist on his own pants, not bothering to unbutton the two rows of golden buttons. One quick yank sent buttons flying around the closet, clattering against the walls. His chest heaved with want, his hands quick to free himself from his pants. Zoro rested back on his feet, pumping his cock with a groan as he looked down at you. His eye was dark, almost glazed over with want.

With one hand, he gripped your waist, hard and bruising. Using the other, he lined himself up with your hole. He barely gave you any time to breathe before bullying his cock into your cunt, sinking deep into you in a fluid motion. A cry escaped your lips as your back arched, your jaw open and gasping. His cock was large, girthy and long, and it stretched you so well. Your body clenched down hard around him, causing him to shudder and grit his teeth. Zoro breathed out slowly, bending down and resting his hands on either side of your head. 

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, thrusting shallowly inside you. His teeth skimmed your jawline as he lowered himself onto his elbows, your chests pressing together. It felt to you like he was taking up every sense, as if he was all you could experience in this moment. Nothing outside of this closet even existed to you anymore. He bit down on your neck, at the spot where it joins with your shoulder, and you moaned loudly.

“Aah, Zoro, feels good,” you mumble out, your mind dazed from the mix of pain and pleasure his mouth gave you. 

He thrusted into you with a hard and punctuating rhythm, emphasizing his words. “Haa, yeah? Better,” thrust “than that no good,” thrust “stuck up,” thrust “host?” 

“Wh- what?” You whined when his hands tangled in the back of your hair, forcing you to look up at him. His brows were furrowed. 

“Say it,” he growled, glaring down at you. Your breath caught in a strangled sound when he thrusted deep into you, holding himself there. The head of his cock was bruising against your cervix, and you squirmed with the mix of sensations. It was overstimulating, and you whimpered under him. 

“Zoro, sir, move. Please,” you begged. Tears sprung to your eyes as you tried to move against him. One of his hands flew to your waist, gripping it firmly and holding you still. You cursed him silently for being so strong. 

“I’m not moving until you say it.”

“Say what?,” you cried, your eyes searching his face wildly. His jaw clenched in irritation.

“Say that I fuck you better than he ever could,” he ordered. Zoro’s chest heaved with his breath, you could tell he was barely containing himself. His bicep flexed and you felt his grip tighten on your waist.

“God, yes. You fuck me better than he ever could, you feel so amazing. Please fuck me, please,” you begged, desperation dripping from your cries.

A predatory grin spread across his face with your words, his eye crinkling with pleasure. “That’s my girl,” he praised, lips ghosting across your cheek. Zoro pressed his lips against yours and rose up, grabbing your waist with both hands and dragging his cock out of you slowly. As you looked up at him, you shuddered at the fierceness of his expression. 

His thumbs brushed against your skin before slamming you down on his cock with abandon, thrusting into you repeatedly. Zoro watched as your tits bounced, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he concentrated. Your hands clenched the fabric under you as he fucked you hard, and you watched as his blouse rode up as he moved, his abs flexing with each thrust. 

You cried for him, his cock battering your poor cunt. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you up roughly to slam his mouth against yours. He kissed you insistently as he fucked you, before removing himself and turning you over onto your stomach. Your dress piled around you as he dragged it up, exposing your ass to him. He gripped one of your asscheeks in his hand, pinching hard. The hand dipped under your abdomen to pull you onto your knees, and he sheathed himself back in you. The new angle was world shattering, every thrust bumping deep inside you, causing your legs to shake and breath to catch. 

Zoro’s hand gripped your hair, dragging your back to his chest. His teeth sunk into your shoulder, breaking the skin as he thrusted into you from behind. You felt him as he licked the bite mark, moaning as your blood stained his tongue. He was relentless, slamming into you over and over. At the same time, his voice was like honey as he moaned into your ear.

“That’s fucking right,” he grunted. “You take me so well.” Nobody had ever fucked you so well before, pleasure spiking through your body. He fucked you like he knew you could take it, like a bit of roughness wouldn’t break you. Pain blossomed through your ass as he smacked it harshly, causing your cunt to clench down. “Nobody can fuck you like this,” he promised. “Only me.” 

You mumbled incoherently, the feelings of pleasure and need causing you to feel brainless and light. Zoro’s hand pressed you into the pile of coats underneath you, his hand on the back of your head. The pressure you felt from his hand was so good, rendering you immobile. The other hand on your waist pulled you back into him as he fucked you. You felt yourself drooling into the fabric under you, drunk on the pleasure. Everything was Zoro, from the feeling of his hands on you and the way his cock dragged in your cunt, to his leathery perfume, to the sounds of his groaning and skin slapping together.

The pleasure built in you again with each thrust, and you trembled with overexertion and overstimulation. Zoro’s hand moved from your head to snake past your waist to your clit. Never once did his thrusts let up, his endurance endless. Small, quick circles were rubbed on your clit with his first two fingers. 

“Zoro please, please please, fuck,” you mumbled, pleasure reaching deeply into your fingers and toes. 

“Let go, cum around my cock. Wanna feel you,” he mumbled out. His voice was less demanding now, more needy. The swordsman rubbed your clit insistently, and your orgasm hit you gradually, washing through you in hot waves of pleasure. You moaned as you came, feeling your body weaken like jelly.

Zoro fucked you through your second orgasm, his thrusts hard and erratic. He held you up, both hands on your waist. You could hear his breath stuttering, his voice tight and strained. “Haa… Gonna… Cum in you… Make you mine…” he grit out, leaning forward to kiss and bite at your shoulders. 

You cried out as his teeth sank into your flesh, Zoro groaning loudly. His cock slammed as far in your cunt as it could go, emptying himself into you as he came. The man licked at the bite mark and he mumbled against your skin as he kissed your shoulder blades. He pulled out of you, and you whimpered at the loss of fullness. 

For a moment, you didn’t move and neither did Zoro, watching his cum dribble out of your cunt with a smirk. You heard him hum, before feeling his hands flip you over to look at him. He looked at your messed up hair and smudged makeup, also noting the tear in the bodice of your dress before snorting. “Oops,” he laughed, obviously sarcastic. You were so fucked out that you didn’t even care how much of a mess you two looked, seeing his appearance sort of mirroring your own. “C’mere.”

Zoro gathered you up to him, kissing your hair and smiling affectionately. It was too late to go back now, not that you’d want anything to be different. “Now, I just gotta figure out how to get my girl outta here safely,” he chuckled.

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— daddy issues

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: prejudice, toxic child-parent relationship

summary: wednesday gets to meet her demonic girlfriend's father, and the image isn't far too different from her expectations

word count: 2.6k

The second day of the Parents' Weekend had rolled over, and most of the Nevermore students were busy spending quality time with their parents. But Wednesday... couldn't. She didn't exactly plan getting her father out of jail as a bonding activity, but now with him behind bars and her mother completely and utterly devastated, as her dear brother had told her, the girl was completely alone.

Even (Y/n) wasn’t by her side then.

The oni had been... distant since the arrival of her father. Wednesday could only get a single glimpse of him on the first day — a tall, rough - looking man of forties with thin moustache and beard, and on the bridge of his nose sat a long pale scar. She could see scars peeking out from the formal haori adorning his frame, much bigger and painful looking ones, and Wednesday wondered if oni demons really were as invincible as (Y/n) had always stated.

Just like his youngling, the man had big tusks sticking out of his mouth, and the slitted eyes under his bushy brows narrowed in an almost judgmental way when he stepped into the quad.

Oh, well. She couldn't blame him. She herself judged everyone in the school on daily basis.

So, on Sunday, walking down the empty corridor with her fencing gear bag in hand, Wednesday decided to let some steam off practicing by herself. As much as she didn't want to admit, being away from her demon even for a single day was an excruciating torture. Of course, that was a tad bit dramatic — the ravenette was her own person, perfectly capable of existing by herself, but... she liked existing with (Y/n) by her side, too. She made existence a little more bearable.

Quickly changing into the fencing uniform, rapier in hand, Wednesday walked out of the locker room, heading towards the big wooden doors. As she grabbed the handle, she froze at the sound of voices speaking on the other side. Craning her head closer to the entrance, Wednesday held her breath to listen.

There were sounds of steel hitting steel, then came a rough male voice.

"Not good enough, (Y/n). Again."

The clanking followed again, then an angry huff.

"Again." The same firm stern voice repeated.

Wednesday opened the door quietly to peek inside the fencing hall. In the center of the big well – lit room stood the man Wednesday had seen the day before – (Y/n)’s father. His hand was resting on the handle of his sheathed blade and it seemed like the older demon didn’t move a muscle – his posture was unmoving, stone – like, and he resembled a statue of a giant mythical creature guarding a spiritual temple.

A few feet from the man was (Y/n) herself. She was clad in her black and (f/c) haori draped over a soft kimono, and on her usual hakama pants the demon had her scabbard strapped firmly to the belt. Her clawed hands were gripping her sword, knuckles white and breaths heavy. An angry vein throbbed on her forehead, brow glistening with sweat, and she blew out air to get her hair our of her face.

Wednesday had never seen the demon girl wield her blade before. She'd lie if she said it wasn't immensely attractive.

"Your emotions are clouding your mind,” (Y/n)’s father noted, fist wrapping around his katana to unsheathe it again, the steel making a pleasant sound as it slid out of the scabbard, “Focus."

The two demons circled each other, swords bare and ready for the other to strike, and then with a fast movement of her legs (Y/n) lunged, pushing off the ground to land a hit on her opponent. Every single one of her swift slashes was dodged, then the man’s blade connected with hers with a loud clash. The demon girl’s hands shook as she tried to overpower her father, gritting her teeth, and Wednesday watched steam seep from between the gaps in her tusks.

Then, a sharp swing of the swordsman’s arms, and (Y/n) was on the ground in a blink of an eye, katana cluttering down on the floor. Groaning, the oni sat up, clutching her side, and Wednesday gasped quietly at the sight of a deep bloody gash on her middle. She was ready to rush over to her aid – but then, as if by a miracle, the wound healed up, leaving only a slashed spot on the fabric behind.

"You've been neglecting your training for too long, (Y/n). A real battle not only would’ve swept you off your feet, but sent your head rolling in an instant. War requires preparation." The older demon boomed, looking down at his child.

"We've been over this, father," (Y/n) frowned, grabbing her katana off the marble floor, "There's no war to prepare for." She stood back up begrudgingly.

"A true warrior must always be prepared. Remember what your clan strives for, (Y/n). It's a big responsibility. I need to make sure you're capable enough to bear it when you take over in my stead."

There it was again. The usual 'heir' talk. God, how much (Y/n) loathed it, and it was always the same, no less. She wished she didn’t have to go through it, but she kept silent.

"Again.”

Huffing, the younger oni clutched the handle in her palms, ready to repeat her exercise and mentally preparing herself for another humiliating defeat, before her gaze flicked over behind her father’s back – and the demon's face instantly lit up.

“Wednesday.” The ravenette’s name came out in an exhale, as if the demon felt heaviness leave her shoulders at the sight of the smaller girl.

Her father turned his head to look, and his slitted eyes narrowed, “I thought our training session was supposed to be private.”

Moving closer to stand in front the man, (Y/n) made a show of sheathing her blade into her saya loudly, then bowed at the waist, “I’m taking a time out.” She grumbled, turning to walk up to Wednesday.

“Hey, snookums. How are you?”

“Better than you, I’m guessing,” Wednesday replied bitterly, eyeing the hole in the oni’s clothes, “That was a little bit savage. Even for me.”

(Y/n) sighed, raising her hand to scratch at her cheek lazily, “Eh. I’ve endured worse. Father says pain establishes discipline. ‘The more you bleed in practice, the less you bleed in battle’,” she quoted with a chuckle.

“Not really a good reason to cut up your own daughter, don’t you think?”

Before the demon could utter a response, her father walked up, towering over both girls, hands behind his back, “That’s the simplest humane mindset, to be expected from a fragile human. Demons are much more hard to break,” then he coughed into his first, and his gaze softened just a bit, “You must be Wednesday Addams. Though not as brief as I would’ve preferred her to, (Y/n) spoke of you in her letters,” he ignored the embarrassed sputtering of his daughter, bowing his head, “My name is (F/n) (L/n), the acting head of the (L/n) clan. I hope my rebellious child wasn’t too much of a handful for the lady.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. (L/n),” Wednesday replied, “And I assure you I’m not as soft as I might seem. Did you know that certain centipedes kill prey fifteen times their size?”

(L/n)’s eyes glistened, and he raised an eyebrow with a small smirk on his toothy lips, “Hm. I’ll be sure to remember,” the man's gaze slid to Wednesday's rapier, "I assume you came to train. I’ll leave you two to it," then he turned to his daughter, eyes stern, “Don’t forget the ceremony at five, (Y/n). Tardiness won’t be tolerated.”

The male demon turned on his heels and headed towards the exit, opening the doors and leaving the hall.

(Y/n) sighed, looking down at Wednesday apologetically, "Sorry about that. Father's been around for centuries. He witnessed the fall of the last shogunate and fought in wars back when humans were deemed a threat and an enemy for us. It's been... hard for him to readapt. Not that I'm trying to justify his words."

"For centuries?" Wednesday seemed to mull the information over, "How old are you, (Y/n)?"

The demon quickly averted her eyes nervously, a blush on her cheeks, "You don't ask an oni lady that."

Her gaze then turned a bit sorrowful, and she looked down at the floor, hand gripping her scabbard tightly, "Nothing good about immortality. He always tells me how in five hundred years I'll live to see this world crumble to dust with everyone and everything I love gone...That's why I must get my priorities straight and, you know... Avoid attachments. Especially to humans."

Raising a pale hand to (Y/n)’s face, Wednesday gently rubbed some dirt off her cheek, obviously the result of the demon girl falling to the floor countless times, "Good thing I don't plan on letting you go. I hope he understands that." Stepping away from the demon, she drew her blade, stance perfect and gaze determined, “Winner draws first blood.”

The demon girl smiled, tusks bare in a happy grin that one would probably find a bit off — putting, but made Wednesday’s heart flutter, "Let's see if you can handle me, then."

“Is there something... above friendly to your relationship with Ms. Addams?” (F/n) asked, placing his shogi piece on the board and looking up at his daughter.

She didn’t answer at once – there was color on her cheeks, and (Y/n) rubbed at her neck, sheepishly looking down at her knees where she sat in a seiza position opposite her father in front of the board, “There is. For the past couple of months I’ve been proud to call Wednesday my significant other,” scrutinizing the board, she moved her piece to the left square, “It was a long process, but we’re comfortable together now.”

The older demon hummed, looking back down at the board and grabbing another piece, “I hope you do realise what you’re committing yourself to.”

“I do. It’s... not a simple physical attraction.”

“That’s not what I meant,” (L/n)’s painted king piece clattered against the wood, “Humans are unreliable. Weak and fragile. Is this what you aim to do? To dirty your pure bloodline with a human creature? You'll outlive and bury the girl, (Y/n).”

(Y/n) frowned, and her stomach churned at the thought, “There’s nothing dirty about humans, father. Your perception of them has been outdated for a while now,” mulling over her next move, she moved a different piece, “I understand your skepticism but... I’m afraid I don’t share it.”

“For a true leader his duties must come above all else," the man said firmly, “It’s an obligation you were brought into this world with. Your ancestors have been bleeding to fulfill them for centuries – do you think you have a right to sabotage them, to devalue the sacrifices of your forefathers?”

(Y/n) clenched her fists on her knees, trying her best to keep her voice leveled, “Well, those duties seem like a total bullshit if they’re going to stop me from loving a human,” she moved a piece with a clawed finger, but her mind was far away from the game by now, “I don’t want to be a true leader if the whole concept of being one is just old traditions and worldviews that restrict me in being who I am.”

The older oni stared down at his daughter with furrowed brows, “Your words disappoint me, (Y/n).”

“I don’t care!” The girl snapped finally, looking up at her father, teeth gritted, “It has always been about my duties and never about what I want and who I am! I’ll gladly give up the title, the whole clan be damned, if it means I’ll finally find freedom from those godforsaken chains you try so hard to keep me in!”

The girl seethed, anger burning in her slitted eyes, the words she had been burying in her chest for such a long time finding their way out, completely unfiltered.

“Such dishonor..." The male oni muttered, shaking his head, "What would your mother say?”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened at the words. She felt bitter tears well up in her eyes, and raising her arm to rub at them with the sleeve of her haori roughly the oni got up from the floor, turning around and leaving the room without saying anything.

Wednesday worked on her typewriter, slender fingers pressing the keys swiftly as her eyes traced over the words. As she typed, she kept glancing out the window, longingly watching the sky get darker every time she looked.

Thing climbed up her desk, seemingly noticing the worried aura of the ravenette, and gestured to catch her attention.

“Yes, (Y/n) is indeed taking her time. I’m sure she has a good reason to.” She said quietly, turning back to her paper.

It had been a few hours since the demon girl left to see her father, and Wednesday wondered if something had gone wrong. Although (Y/n)’s family issues were none of her business, she couldn’t help but feel some kind of disdain towards the clan leader. Knowing the older (L/n), Wednesday wouldn’t be surprised if he made his daughter commit seppuku a bunch of times just for sake of some petty ‘discipline’. This kind of relationship was practically alien to the ravenette – her own father adored and pampered her endlessly, always encouraging the girl to speak up her mind, and she never had to hang her head low in his presence or bow at the waist in front of him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door of her dorm opening, making Wednesday turn in her seat. (Y/n) stepped inside, closing the door queitly, and smiled at the smaller girl.

"Hey."

Her voice was hoarse, as if she had been crying her throat out, and as she walked over to where the ravenette was sat, Wednesday noticed the reddness in her eyes.

"(Y/n). What took you so long?" She stood up from her chair, stepping closer to the demon, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, sorry for the hold up. I'm good," the oni's gaze slid over to the typewriter, "Are you gonna be done soon?"

Wednesday had half an hour of her writing time left, but... she could tell that could wait.

"Yes. I'm finished already." She turned to the machine, getting the paper out to put it into the formed stack.

(Y/n) hummed, walking over to Wednesday's bed and sitting on the edge, and the ravenette moved to stand between her legs. She grabbed the demon's hand, slender fingers tacing the palm, "Do you want to talk about anything?"

The oni girl shook her head silently, then, closing her eyes tightly, butted it against Wednesday's middle, burying her face in her clothes. She sighed into it, deep and heavy, and the smaller female wrapped her hands around the demon, manicured fingers scratching at her scalp.

"Sometimes I wish I was born different." Wednesday heard her mutter, words muffled by the black fabric of her sweatshirt.

She thought for a moment, digits never slowing their movements in the (h/c) tresses, before replying, "I think you're a distinguished specimen just the way you are."

(Y/n)'s shoulders shook, and for a second the ravenette thought she had said something wrong, but then the demon lifted her face to look up at her, and Wednesday realised the taller girl was smiling, "That's the weirdest way to tell someone they're a nice person."

Wednesday frowned, pinching (Y/n)'s shoulder resentfully, "Take it or leave it, (Y/n)."

"Sorry, sorry. Thank you. I think you're perfect, too." She chuckled.

[captainkurosolaire]

Father of Shadow

Grey skies of bone waste, dry uncertain humidity polluted the air, in a time stone of an oppressive era. When a peaceful Nation was under siege of a Garlean Empire was prominent conflict. Depleted soul's were torn from destruction brought upon them, not able to spark their rebel spirits. Hopelessness festered, longed, in the dark-void, absence reigned. Until those who dwell and thrive in night, answered. A Doman elegant-magpie, colored descended below gracefully upon a leather-glove, with a braille message-strung delicately for delivery, to who wields sharp steel and handles Black Miracles. It read two-words, stroked in Hingashi. "Unsheathe Shadow." The figure clad to black, descended below a tall cliff-side using a large-bright dragon-theme kite at the last daring moment, blocking a Magitek Armor with an Operator and fellow squadron leading a convoy of spoiled slavers, formerly settlers, farmers of the neighboring land, that'd know a harvest again. Feet-padded quietly a step in their pause. This mask-silhouette figure gave a small startle. Keen eyes of one Imperialist gave rise to a Eastern-forged scabbard blade, letting out a small-laugh from his throat, "Hey, Men! Seems we forgot one. Ki--" Cut off before the executive order, through a sleeved kunai punctured the throat. The specter of death, was swarmed instantaneous. Time felt frozen momentarily, when two-pursuers stepped in striking distance, before they were aware of the next breathe, they were struck down from a blinding quick unsheathe. A firm masculine gloved-hand grappled one of the defeated imperialist by their skull and used their cadaver as a shield-charge to block, a volley of ballistics sponged to the reload, swiftly, the assailant lunged his blade through the deceased into the reloading legionary, puncturing two-hearts. Crushing flail came swinging towards the assailant from behind, stern senses strengthened for obscured sight gave an acrobatic bending dodge, strands of raven hair's plucked grazing overhead, the swordsman withdrew his blade full of heated ichor, blinding the bruiser. Handicapped and shouting obscenities, he withdrew his chained-flail, the assailant vanished alongside the call-back, leaping carefully on returning weapon. Graciously leaping overhead. A swift-slice midair struck. Another head fell below removed from neck. Sudden commotion and pause made the prisoner's of war began up-roaring with renewed spirits, kicking at their confines. Magitek-Armored pilot took firing aim and unleashed a mini-gun of bullets at the shadow. The figure-glided with the wind, feline ear's rattling towards the preparing machinery coiling before assault, heel's building up wind, his blade let out a howling gust, rocketing him forth towards a hanging-tree, bullet's closely racketing behind. Fluid-movement, his free-arm locked onto a sturdy branch. He parted his blade-flat below his feet using it like a temporarily standing-board. Then unhooked from hip satchel a paper-scrolled bomb strung to another kunai, a fuse laid underneath the hilt like a switch, once launched and struck its target, it'd detonate. Ilm's from filling the assassin with swissed-holes, the weapon's arm of the machinery imploded and cracked pilot's glass windshield, the magitek armor fell off balance, exposed trying to regain control. His eye's-opened widely. Sole's directly above his small-layer between him, in the death-dealer who had catapulted and sprung himself with a feline leap. Shedding a last-gasp before expertly steel slid between the cracked- creases, and impaled him unable to evade demise. His skull ragged dolled forth bashing into the detonation button. Electrical in-balance was felt predicatively, the assassin leapt backwards, yet was unable to clear. Blocking with his arm's and blade, shrapnel of machinery projectiles dug into his flesh, boom sent the shadow careening below harshly.

Ember's surrounding him, scorched land and concussed with his hearing shrieking, distorted, his mask cracked. His body was tortured fashioned to these sensations. Adrenaline coursing inside him, nullifying the extent of his injuries, momentarily, he rolled instinctively feeling the heat near his feline tail. Despite being a deadly-weapon, expressionless, empty-nearly. He finished his task employed, by releasing the prisoner's door, they flooded out looking to find their rescuer but only a blood-trail remained mixed with all the other disarray. He had a date, with someone, that daringly made his sharpest blade, blunt. Even demolished like this, he wouldn't miss the intended target who'd forever alter his knowledge of Life. Using his blade-hilt as a cane to hold uprightness. In all or any; Darkness... There was somewhere a Light, to appreciate.

[Prev:Chapter]: ~ ♪"As Above, So Below"♪

[run-me-through-but-not-like-that]

The Lovability of Israel Hands

Summary: Izzy doesn't understand what you see in him and can't bring himself to believe it until he overhears you speaking with Lucius.

Word Count: 2942

The sun was high in the sky and all the morning chores had been completed, so Izzy didn’t feel the need to scream himself hoarse at the lazy crew. They could rest during the peak heat and tend to anything else once it begins to cool down again. 

In the midday lull, Izzy couldn’t stop himself from searching for you, couldn’t help but let his gaze find you. You were sitting in the shade with Lucius, not too far from where he stood. 

Neither of you were talking, Lucius was sketching something and you were keeping him company, occasionally peaking in on his work. Every now and again you would smile at whatever he was working on, that smile that Izzy loved so much, that always made his stomach flutter when it was directed at him.

You were…you were radiant. You were just…you’re just good. A good person, a brilliant and loving partner. He always tried his best to be the kind of partner you deserve and most of the time it felt completely natural to him. Izzy knew that he was lucky to have you, to even have you look his way twice. He had no idea what you saw in him, though.

Izzy sighed, knowing that he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, from spiralling. You were always so good at quieting those thoughts, at soothing and comforting him even when he didn’t realise he needed it. He leant forward against the railing, looking out over the water as his mind ran wild with all the reasons you should leave him behind.

To put it simply, he’s old and used up, past his prime. He was under no delusions about that. He was a damn good first mate, an excellent swordsman but he knew it was only a matter of time before somebody could best him, before he really was no use to anyone.

He never had been vain but he thought he used to be rather attractive. He was never good with people but he saw the looks he sometimes got from strangers, before he had a chance to scare them off. He knew he had been attractive, he also knew that those looks faded with age. 

Izzy thought that was just a part of life, except Edward still looked as radiant as ever, even with his greys and laugh lines. Life was not so kind to Izzy, apparently. His scars were gnarled and ugly, a lot of them didn’t get the chance to heal properly. His hair was streaked through with grey, he didn’t think it made him look dashing, just old, and the lines on his face had become prominent. He hadn’t thought much about how he had aged, about how his appearance had changed, until you came along. All bright and gorgeous and perfect. What could you see in an old sea dog like him?

Appearances aside, Izzy still couldn’t fathom why you spent any time and energy on him.

He’s a grumpy bastard, everyone told him so, could tell just from looking at his face apparently. He’s never known how to have fun, Jack always told him that he was a bore, and Ed has always said it’s like pulling teeth with him. 

He was boring while the rest of the crew was so eccentric. Not only that, the crew were friendly and open with their feelings, one of them would be able to tell you everything they felt for you, just like you deserved. 

What did he have to offer you?

You relaxed back against the mask, basking in the shade and listening to the scratch of Lucius’ pencil. Your gaze had locked onto the first mate, still clad in full black and leather despite the recent peak in temperature. He committed to his aesthetic, you had to give him that. 

Izzy was leaning against the ship’s railing,enjoying the breeze and clear view of the ocean, with the slight wind in his hair. He looked peaceful, which you loved to see, but also like he was deep in thought. He did that sometimes, just disappeared into his own head. You always wondered what he was thinking about, always loved when he shared those thoughts with you.

“Ew,” Lucius huffed beside you, lowering his sketchbook, “you two are so gross.”

Izzy found himself tensing immediately, the scribe’s voice breaking through his self deprecation spiral. He was certain that Lucius was talking about the two of you, even if it was just paranoia egging him on. Of course he thought it was gross, that anyone would pay Izzy Hands some attention, that somebody might find him attractive or pleasant in any way.

“What?” you asked innocently, like you couldn’t see exactly where this conversation was going like Izzy could.

Izzy forced himself not to stalk off, clearly neither of you knew he could hear you and he needed to know what the boy had to say. He didn’t want this to come as a surprise later, best to be prepared for it all.

“You’re all gooey eyed over him. He was literally just staring at you and now you’re staring at him. Like, you literally share a cabin, get over yourselves!” Lucius complained. 

“I can’t help it, Luce…he’s just so easy to stare at,” you sighed wistfully, mostly just to wind Lucius up further.

“I don’t get it,” Lucius confessed, closing his book in his lap.

Fuck, this is it. Lucius was going to talk you out of whatever delusion you were in, point out exactly why you shouldn’t look at him in that fond way you do. Lucius would knock some sense into you and the relationship you had would be over by nightfall. Izzy missed it already. Missed you already.

“He’s gorgeous,” you simply shrugged. Like it was that simple. Izzy was gorgeous, and you didn’t understand how anyone couldn’t see that.

“Okay, I get like the hot older guy thing, and the grumpy repressed thing, kinda, but…I guess I don’t get it like you do.”

Izzy could feel Lucius’ gaze as he looked him up and down, like he was evaluating him for something.

“Alright, Lucius. Listen up, I’m going to give you a little lesson about Israel Hands,” you pushed yourself up into a less reclined position, getting serious. “Let’s start with appearances.” 

“Christ, we’re going to be here all day,” Lucius groaned but he didn’t actually protest or try to leave. In all honesty, he really was curious about what you saw in Izzy, how the first mate won you over.

“Is that a promise?” you teased

“Just get on with it so I can go throw up already.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramaticness but then turned serious. “Okay, but seriously…you know he’s hot, right?”

“Yeah, duh. He’s hot but like…everything else kind of overshadows it. He’s got a broad chest, strong arms. Got, like, a ruggedly handsome look, but…the risk of being bit isn’t really worth it,” Lucius assessed. Izzy felt his hands curling into fists against the railing. 

“Okay, firstly, it’s totally worth it,” you scoffed, as if personally offended. Anyway, the biting was half the fun. “Secondly, clean out your mind. I mean his eyes, his smile, stuff like that.”

Izzy tensed a little, unsure of how to feel. For some reason it made more sense to him for you to speak about his chest or arms, what made you physically attracted to him like Lucius had suggested. There was something more intimate about thinking about his smile and his eyes. It wasn’t like they were anything special anyway. His eyes were just eyes and his smile was awkward, made people uncomfortable more than anything.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile,” Lucius admitted.

“Yeah, because you do nothing but piss him off,” you chastised, quickly continuing on before the scribe could protest. “If you could see one of his real smiles, you would understand. They’re beautiful. He has great teeth, honestly impressive considering he spent his whole life at sea. He had the cutest dimples and his eyes crinkle when he’s really smiling. His eyes are just…I don’t even know where to start. They’re so expressive, it’s like I can read every thought and emotion just from his eyes when he lets his guard down. And when he looks at me like I’m something special…I swear to God that they actually sparkle.” 

Lucius resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It was sweet that you were so infatuated with your partner but if you started making him write shitty poetry about it like Stede did, he might actually get over his uneasiness around blood just to stab you.

“God, please don’t start waxing poetic about him. You should hear some of the things Stede says about Ed.” 

“Well…those leather pants make him easy on the eyes too,” you added with a smirk.

Over at the railing, Izzy was blushing wildly now. He should leave, he shouldn’t be listening in on a conversation, but he found his feet stuck to the deck. His body wouldn’t let him move. 

“Pervert,” Lucius laughed. He didn’t sound as confused or disgusted anymore, just amused. “Are you done?” 

“I suppose,” you huffed. You could easily continue, talk about how soft his hair is and how well groomed he keeps his facial hair, or how adorable he is when he flushes, but you could take a hint. “Moving on to personality.”

There was a small thud as Lucius dropped his head back against the mast. “Okay, you’re taking the piss now.” Fine, yes, Izzy was attractive but an endearing personality? Lucius didn’t believe it for a second. 

You glanced back over at Izzy. He had his back to you both but the sight of him still put a smile on your face.

“I’ll start with the obvious. He’s hardworking, has an insane work ethic, which is admirable but I have to force him into taking breaks. His devotion is…it can’t be beat. How devoted he is to Edward, to the ship, the crew, to me.”

Now, that made sense. Izzy relaxed a little. He was useful when it came to his devotion, he would commit himself wholly to things, he knew that. Of course that’s what you saw in him. 

“To you and Ed? Sure. The crew? Now I know you’re messing with me,” Lucius pulled a face, folding his arms over his chest.

“He really does care about the crew, Luce. It’s one of the things I love so much about him. Sure, he doesn’t show it like you do or even how Stede does, but he really does only stress so much with you all because he wants to keep everyone safe. Ensures you all know how to defend yourself so you don’t die on a raid, gets so worked up before storms to make sure nobody goes overboard. It’s self preservation, sure, but he doesn’t want to see anything bad happen to any of you. Even if you don’t like each other, Izzy devotes himself to his crew. It’s responsibility to look out for us all and he takes it seriously,” you informed him, seeming genuinely surprised that Lucius had no idea. 

And he didn’t. Lucius didn’t know that at all, that Izzy actually cares in some way. “Never thought about it like that,” Lucius admitted.

“And he really is different when he feels safe and he’s off duty. When it’s just the two of us, he’s just the sweetest. Would do anything for me, not that I’d ever ask anything of him. He can actually be a little shy, but he can be a proper gentleman as well.”

Lucius hummed thoughtfully. “Shy? I believe that, always did get repressed vibes from him.” 

“He’s not repressed, Lucius. Not in whatever way you’re thinking anyway,” your nose scrunched up slightly, wishing that the others could see the sides of Izzy that you did. “And he’s funny,” you added, brushing your slight annoyance off. 

“Fuck off. No he’s not. Not on purpose anyway,” Lucius snorted. 

Izzy sneered to himself, watching the steady waves moving against the Revenge. Just because Spriggs thought he was so fucking funny didn’t mean that other people weren’t. 

“He is. His humour is dry and bitchy most of the time but he can be really fucking funny,” you insisted, your smile returning. “And he’s clever. Like, obviously, he has to be competent to be Blackbeard’s first mate and everything but you don’t actually realise how clever he is until he explains his methods to you.” 

“Alright, I’ll buy clever, I never thought he was stupid, but I’m not buying that he’s funny,” Lucius stood firm, huffing petulantly. 

“He tells a lot of great jokes about you,” you smirked.

“Hey!” Lucius' eyes widened in offence, dropping his arms from his chest.

You just laughed. You knew he would want more details, to know what jokes the first mate made at his expense and declare you a traitor for finding them amusing, so you didn’t give him the chance to question you about it. 

“But my favourite feature of his?” 

Lucius groaned. “You’re going to tell me whether I want to know or not.” He definitely did want to know, he was curious and nosy if nothing else. 

“His voice,” you declared, smile turning from teasing to fond. “It’s beautiful and unique. It’s even deeper and raspier in the mornings, his chest vibrates with it. And his laugh…” 

“He laughs?” Lucius gasped, scandalised. You just rolled your eyes and elbowed him in the ribs, though your smile didn’t fade. 

“His laugh is like fucking music, Luce! It’s just…just perfect. He’s perfect, Lucius,” you sighed, leaning back against the mast comfortably as your gaze turned back to Izzy.

“Well…you clearly love him a lot, so there must be something good about him,” Lucius shrugged, accepting his defeat. He didn’t see what you were seeing, but you clearly believed everything you said.

“I do, Luce…I really do.” 

Izzy tightened his grip on the railing, grounding himself. You love him. You love him, said it yourself, pretty damn clearly. 

You thought these things about him were wonderful, were perfect, and deserving of love. You loved him and he had no idea what he did to deserve that. To deserve somebody as wonderful as you. He didn’t know what you saw in him or how you could adore him so much but you did, you said you did with nothing but adoration and devotion in your voice. You said it, and he knew you weren’t a liar, not when it came to stuff like this.

“Have you told him yet?” Lucius asked. His tone wasn’t as teasing this time, it was more sincere.

“Not yet. I will. Just don’t know if he’s there yet, y’know?” 

Izzy felt hyper focused on your voice, on everything you said. He had to make sure he wasn’t mishearing anything.

“Oh, babe, he’s definitely there. He’s in love with you. No, he’s like…obsessed with you. He’s there,” Lucius scoffed but something about it sounded fond. “Don’t know if he’s ready to hear it and say it, but he’s definitely there.”

“And when he’s ready to hear it, I’m going to tell him over and over again,” you vowed, dedication thick in your voice. Once you felt it wouldn’t scare the man away, you would never let him question how much you love him. 

“I didn’t realise you were so romantic,” Lucius smiled, knocking his shoulder against yours. 

“I guess he just brings it out of me,” you joke. 

“Right well…” Lucius groaned as he pushed himself up onto his feet, “off to be sick.

“Don’t choke!” you called after him, laughing.

Lucius pulled a face at you before heading off to find Pete and Fang. You stood as well, stretching your arms over your head to loosen up your muscles, before practically skipping over to where Izzy still stood.

Izzy tensed slightly at the sound of your approach, hoping it hadn’t been too obvious that he was listening in to your conversation. You had certainly spoken as if you didn’t know he could hear. 

“Hey, Iz,” you took your place right by his side, as close as you could stand without pressing our arm right up against his. 

“Hey,” he greeted you as normally as he could manage, rolling his shoulders slightly. 

Your smile never faded as you examined him. His face was flushed pink, along with his neck and the tops of his ears. “You okay? You’re all red.” 

“Probably just the wind,” Izzy mumbled but you both knew that he was blushing about something. 

“Relax,” you comforted, brushing your arm against his. “I think it’s cute that I can still get you so flustered.” 

When you placed your hands on the railing, Izzy unclenched his bare hand and placed it over one of yours. Izzy wasn’t a huge fan of PDA, at least not yet, but you knew he enjoyed having some sort of physical contact when you were around. You just smiled at the subtle gesture, parting your fingers to let him slip his through yours. 

Izzy opened his mouth to say something but the words got stuck in his throat, you didn’t seem to notice, just enjoying spending some time with him. He closed his mouth again and just smiled to himself. 

He would tell you. He’d tell you that he loved you, tell you just how perfect you were and how undeserving he was. And you would stay, you would even say it back, because you loved him too, for whatever reasons you saw. He would do it. Izzy promised himself.

[kumoofthemaken]

@cursedfortune the Hunter was never but one of a kind...

The evening chill of the forest only seemed to deepen as white boots descended upon the ground. Cape falling around his form softly as fresh snow as he materialized from the Mist, brought to the Outer World on the whim of his Weapon. It was not often that the Maken demanded he go to a specific place, but judging by the connection he shared with Black Wind, he would not be surprised if the Sword had just done his whole job for him.

Finding where his bonehead of a counterpart had been off to. A sliver of a smirk tugged at his hidden lips before fading as quickly as it had appeared. No doubt pleased with finally finding the planet the Wind had been skulking off to. It was most curious to consider that his notoriously workaholic brother-in-calling, too, had a place where he collected his thoughts and recuperated.

...Even if that did paint him quite the hypocrite. A mental note was made to tell him just that whenever they next met.

The swordsman walked in complete silence - or, rather, floated - as though he were more apparition than man. Clad in ethereal white, with skin nigh as pale as the light of the moon rising above. The forest was quiet as he was. Not even a birdcall nor the scuttle of wild animal through foliage, the sound of his own breath whistling, metallic, through the vents of his mask was his sole companion. And the sole physical thing that betrayed he was, in fact, yet living and not a mere ghost.

But a soundless place did not remain such forever. He could tell there was another in the vicinity. He could always tell.

"Hello." With a voice as gentle as the kiss of morning dew on leaves, the foreigner prince greeted the woman standing in the darkness. Jade eyes could scarcely see in the deep shadow, but they did not need to. "Are you from somewhere around these parts?"

[moussedoodles]

🎴🪷 | Of Lotuses and Spiderlillies: Chapter 3 Sneak Peek | 🪷🎴

-

Rin blinked heavy eyelids open- which already seemed like a herculean task in and of itself. But things only seem to worsen when he's met with one of the worst of his recurring enemies: the damned, morning light.

A hiss made its way past gritted teeth as the halfling winced, bringing a hand over his squinted eyes. God, sometimes he wished he was still at home, stuck at the monastery where he couldn't care less about highschool and, instead, slept to his heart's content, only really waking around the early afternoon to help around and run errands around the small church or to cook, all for his family. He dropped out for good reasons damnit, and not having to deal with the sun's shit when he felt and reeked of death was one of them.

Wait– reeked?

Rin withdrew the arm slung over his face, recoiling briefly under the light before he decided- still bordering on the edge of sleep- to begrudgingly push through his initial exhaustion and propped himself up on his elbows, allowing his vision to gradually adjust and explore the surrounding room with lidded eyes.

The light that flooded through the windows by his bedside illuminates white walls with its gentle glow. It wasn't a large space by any means, but it made do with what it had, stretching into a narrow room that barely held any noticeable furniture save for the row of beds beside him and their accompanying bedside tables.

An infirmary, his brain helpfully supplied, as he blinked away the sleep from his eyes. Its layout was familiar enough to be recognised as one, though it was far simpler than True Cross’ own infirmary with its tiled floors and canopy beds. You wouldn't expect any less from one of the best highschools in Japan, especially when you've come to know its headmaster.

Still, despite the unfamiliar setting, Rin would much rather be taken care of here than to tend to himself on the forest floor after he had unceremoniously passed out.

Which… Yeah, that happened.

Rin sucked in a breath through gritted teeth as embarrassment crawled up his spine. He would have thought that, after all the things he had fought and seen since he had first awakened his powers, since he had first chosen to be an exorcist following the death of his father, he would pass out over something that's worth the toll– like being electrocuted again! But- no. As he sits here, atop the white sheets of his infirmary bed, Rin has to deal with the crippling shame of the fact that- not only did he pass out after exorcising the first and one of the easiest demonic entities he had ever encountered, but he had passed out shortly after the fact! And in some poor guy's arms no less!

...Fuck. He passed out in some poor guy's arms.

God, he must've looked like shit.

He Probably smelled even worse.

Rin's ears picked up the slightest creak, which pulled him from his post-sleep self loathing. His head turned towards the noise, and there, standing like a deer in headlights with a hand pressed against the wooden door, was a figure clad in dark fabrics from head to toe, including their head, which was wrapped in black coverings, its hem lined with white. Over their nose and mouth was a pale, paper-like mask, decorated by three dark streaks, which hid all but wide eyes as the stranger stared at the halfling, and he, in turn, stared back.

A silence stretched on for an uncomfortable while, but before Rin could manage his mouth open to speak, the stranger abruptly bent into a bow, startling the swordsman.

“I- I'm sorry! I didn't mean to wake you!”

“Hey man, don't worry about it,” Rin said, the corners of his lips curled into a slight grin. “But uh, could you tell me whe–”

“I'll inform the estate girls that you're awake!”

“Who–”

“And I'll get you food! You must be starving!”

“Thanks but–”

“And a new uniform!” They interrupted, “We only managed to remove your blazer off of you, but you smelled awful!”

The halfling sputtered. “Th- That's not my fault!”

Rin’s brow twitched, and he could feel his face warm. Christ, who even is this guy? Before he could think to ask though, the black-clad figure sprinted off, leaving Rin atop his bed, staring at the empty doorway with a flush over his cheeks and a low hanging jaw, all while irritation and shame slowly simmered beneath his skin.

…He didn't smell that bad, did he?

The halfling groaned as he fell back onto his bed.

Damnit. Couldn't he have gotten even a single word in? Cause a clue on just where he's been transported to would be nice. Hell, maybe he'd even be able to find some cell service so he could send a text to his brother or get himself directions to the nearest train online. He can't imagine just how worried his friends are of him, and he could bet Yukio's got his panties in a twist right now too, worrying about where his dumbass of a brother disappeared to and just how much damage he had done in the few hours (days?) he had been gone for.

He'd find his brother's– hell, everyone’s paranoia annoying if it weren't so warranted. If he wasn't just as worried, just as afraid of what he could possibly do to everyone else as much as they are.

Rin sighed, and he succumbed to the weight of heavy eyelids. He finds no sleep, of course- not as if he even wanted to- and it's not just because he could vaguely see the warmth of the sun behind closed eyes, casting his vision into dark hues of red; or because he could still smell the faintest hint of decay that clung to his skin, leaving nothing but a memory of the nausea he had suffered through beforehand.

He's not getting better like this, no matter what Shura tells him.

Rin- despite… not being the smartest or most attentive student in True Cross- which was a tremendous understatement- wasn't a complete idiot either. No matter how many spirits he exorcises, how many books he had forced himself to read, classes he had to attend, candles he had fucking burn through– Rin feels as though he hasn't changed much- if at all from the teenager that first drew that accursed sword that one, mournful afternoon. He doesn't know when he first realised it, but after what he had seen from Angel, Shura herself or- hell! Even the other Pages in their cram school, he can't help but feel stagnant, his steps too sloppy, his dodges half-assed, his swordsmanship barely any better than careless swings of his arms.

Rin sucked in a shaky breath before he brought an equally trembling hand up to comb through his mess of dark hair.

He just has to… chip away at it. Slowly. He can't become the best exorcist in a matter of months. No one can, and Rin knows that. The same goes for any skill, afterall, like cooking.

Yet still, controlling his flames won't fix his shitty swordsmanship, and he can't keep relying on his demonic healing when he fucks up or gets hurt either. He realised that few months back when he saw that he was nothing like the protagonists from his manga, that he wasn't invincible, that- that he could get hurt.

And nothing could encapsulate that better than when he had been captured, crucified and shocked by his own grandfather.

Sometimes, even during the best of days, when night falls over True Cross town and Rin lays on his bed- much like he is now- with closed eyes as he waits for sleep, he could still feel it, lingering like a fading scar. It's nothing but a faint buzz now, but his body never forgot, the memory remaining fresh on his mind.

The scent of searing, burning flesh.

Nerves alighting as jolts of electricity spread through his vulnerable form.

Wave upon wave of agonising, excruciating pain.

All while spasming muscles, skin, bone– everything attempted to stitch himself back together, before he would be viciously torn apart.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

Rin sucked in a shuddering breath, the hand that once combed through his dark hair now clutching the stained fabric of his button-up, as sharpened nails dug into the pale skin of his torso beneath.

Rin felt like he was burning.

… Shit! He is burning!

-

Aaaand that's all I could give for now, I hope you like what I've given you all so far though! I wish I could've done more, but I just recently moved into a whole new country, so there's that- but, hey! More free time to write and draw!

This is the chapter where our boys will finally meet, and I can't wait to write their first interaction! I have so many ideas in store for them, but you guys would just have to wait for that ];)

[serpentenial]

???? ??????? Age: ?? (Looks to be in 30s) Birthday: ??? Blood type: ??? Weapon: Sword(+2 daggers)

A traveling swordsman clad in black that appeared in the village a few days ago. Speaking to no one, he has hidden himself in the room of the village inn, only leaving to watch the guilty get hanged. The people avoid him out of fear of his hollow gaze and the stench of soot and death that follows him. Strangest yet, the air around him seems to chill as he walks through it...

[authorg2003]

Hallo!! This is my first post. I hope you can enjoy this.

English is not my native language, so there will be a lot of wrong words. I'm also learning English, so I use this as a practice area. Maybe the grammar will be messy. Please understand~ thank you.

Zoro x Female Reader

"I am the path, the one who faithfully takes you home, to drink shade, into a house full of hope."

Fluffy!!! Zoro x You

���----

"He's lost again," Nami grumbled as the sun was almost setting and the Sunny Go should be able to sail even if it was only halfway to the next island. There was only one reason, the moss green haired swordsman didn't come back after shopping for groceries.

"I told you to just let me go to the market, Nami-chwan~" The man with the cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth turned towards Nami. Clad in a black suit made him quite charming if only his eyes didn't change into a love shape when he saw a woman. The ship's chef, Sanji.

"He'll be back soon. Don't worry." The other man said lightly. Appears calm in facing problems even though he doesn't seem to care.

One person who remains silent. Staring far into the forest in front of them, as if waiting for someone. Doesn't make a sound, doesn't even move. Managed to ward off the worry in her heart. It's you. Zoro's lover.

The sun completely set as the light began to fade but the figure of the swordsman never came.

"We'll look for him tomorrow, he'll be fine and probably taking shelter in the forest." Usopp approaches you who looks calm waiting for Zoro on the deck.

Everyone fell asleep soon after dinner. They didn't wait for Zoro not because they didn't care, on the contrary they really believed that the man would be fine. But you remain on deck, staring at the dark forest in front of your camp on the coast.

You direct a small laser into the depths of the lush forest. Not sure that would help, as it would probably just attract some predators from the forest. You shook the light in your hand. I don't know where the light reached in the dark forest.

You started to fall asleep while the laser was still on in your hand. Lean on the side of the deck with your feet tucked between the wooden railings. You don't know that the figure of the burly man everyone is waiting for has just arrived in front of Sunny Go. With two large black crackles filling both of his hands as he slowly climbed the rope to get to the deck.

His sharp eyes softened when he saw your sleeping figure on the side of the deck. As he approached you and crouched down beside you, brushing a few strands of hair away from your peaceful face.

"I'm home..." he whispered to your sleeping figure after waiting for him all day.

[fattybattysblog]

Friend, Please (Chapter 1)

Fandom: Kirby/Kirby Right Back At Ya!

Gen | Teen

Characters: Meta Knight, Dark Meta Knight, Velka | Arcta Knight (OC)

Summary: They should be used to desperate people making horrible decisions by now, but somehow it always goes too far before anyone does anything about it. A person fell prey to the empty promises of dark, powerful hearts to become Arcta Knight. As they make their mark on Dreamland, Meta Knight grows anxious about the encroaching danger and leaves suddenly to prepare for a duel like no other.

AO3 | SqWA | Quotev

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Swordfighting, Original Villain Character, Gijinka Kirby Characters

@ocappreciationtag

(Cover art done by Dean, edited together by me)

Unknown Knight

Blades clashed in the dead of night. The metal clanging rang in the empty air accented by the valiant cries of battling warriors. A pair of expired bodies lay on the battlefield in broken chainmail armor and torn markings belonging to the kingdom nearby.

“Geola!” The last guard remaining cries as his last ally falls. Geola reached for his sword feebly before falling limp. Cepel felt tears brimming his eyes. He ran at the warrior in the harlequin mask. They push Cepel away and, with a lucky slice, splatter Cepel’s blood on the dirt. He coughed and knelt, holding his shoulder as it stained his gauntlet. He eyed the horizon just past his opponent. His reinforcements were supposed to arrive soon… he had to buy more time.

Cepel lunged and stabbed at the mask itself, aiming to get it off and reveal the bastard wreaking havoc. The wound caused him to falter and another swift strike was dealt to his leg, keeping him kneeled below the harlequin. Cepel gripped his sword tightly. The fight began at twilight, yet the warrior never grew tired.

From the shadows, another group of soldiers raced in only to see the aftermath. The harlequin raised their blade. He smiled. He had held them off just long enough. Cepel dropped his sword and turned to the army.

“Someone,” Cepel coughed, “run! Go and tell M-”

The head rolled before the body dropped. Scattered gasps erupted from the reinforcements as they stared in silence. The commander tightened his grip on his blade and gulped.

“Claihd, fall back and inform his Lordship.” He said between his teeth. A green-clad swordsman beside him stepped forward with a hesitant nod.

“But... what about you, Lann?” He asked.

“We’re going to give it our all. Now go!” Lann ordered. Claihd’s legs carried him fast and far before he fully grasped Lann’s words. Swords met suddenly behind him, stuttering his gait in fear. He had to refuse the urge to look back despite the shouts and devastation beckoning to him. Claihd shook his head and pushed himself faster towards the kingdom of Dreamland.

-----

Lann watched his companion flee as he gathered his own nerves and faced the clown-faced freak. They stared back at him with unblinking eye-lights shrowded in black. A quirk he recognized many knights to have. Usually, knights that were much stronger than he. He begged silently that Claihd would get to the castle in time. The nervous shuffling behind him brought him back to the task at hand. He braced himself and pointed his sword ahead, the army charging from behind him and pouncing on Clown-face.

They remained unflinching. Each weapon glanced off their blade as if they were batting away flies. Lann watched Clown-face fight, studying them a moment and piecing together a strategy. Eyes toward the sky, he squinted at the darkened moon overhead and hummed softly to himself. With a short signal, he informed the army to go defensive. They merely had to tire the knight out, that was all he needed to stand a chance.

Lann looked once again at Clown-face and shuddered. While batting away his army, they kept their eyes on him. Head stationery. That wicked grin plastered on the pallid mask. Blood hadn’t been drawn yet. He grimaced and leaped into the fray. The lancers stabbed at a distance behind Clown-face. Swordsmen meeting them in head-on dueling. As Lann approached, the mask seemed to grin wider. With an expert motion, they disarmed a swordsman and slashed their throat. The man twirled to the ground causing Lann to rush faster towards that demon.

“Hmph, he’s toying with us.” He grumbled, lunging.

“Of course.”

Lann’s blade was caught by theirs. He staggered backward, giving Clown-face room. A massive chill swept the battlefield as ice encased the army, leaving them as statues in mid-battle. Lann gaped at the rows of halted comrades. His legs refused to function. Clown-face straightened and rested their blade on their shoulder. The blood dripping from it trailed down their back.

“What the…?” Lann said around the thick lump in his throat.

“And I’m getting bored.”

(Next Chapter)

[omgfloofy]

State of the WIPs

A lot of my writing has stalled due to work, chronic pain in my foot, and Tears of the Kingdom. It’s really hard to be creative on stuff.

But I figure it’s time to give some progress reports on the WIPs I’ve got going at the moment. Especially since I’ve not talked about them in awhile. Everything will be behind the cut.

dal segno al coda

This is the monster fic. Of course. I’m currently at 99,462 words currently in the draft files for the three sections. This does not include the out of place snippets that haven’t been written into the main story or content from the original draft file that I want to keep. All in all, I’ve written over 200k words for this story, but not all of it will be kept in the long run.

Currently about 95% of the story is outlined, though. Which makes life much easier for me in some parts.

There are sections for Lunafreya that I’ve been writing in part 1 that lean heavily in the spy / political thriller type genre. This is a type of story I absolutely love but feel a little overwhelmed dabbling in. So part of my ‘research’ for this has included reading stories in this genre.

Additionally, I’ve been working on sections of part 3 that I can’t really post any WIP content for, since I need to keep as much of it as secret as possible. However, I’ve also written the last chapter and the epilogue. Those were things I couldn’t shake. And there’s a Meanwhile, Elsewhere... chapter that is post-story. On top of that, I’ve also written a post-segno side story that may, or may not be published some day.

I’m clearly having too much fun dabbling around in the mental images I’ve got of the post-story time period for Eos. I don’t know if I want to publish these things because I don’t want to color what other people end up imagining post-segno Eos to be like.

Additionally, the story ended up needing the creation of an original character. I’ve named him Valens.

I was able to get an incredible commission from @teapots-and-hats​ for his design. And while I don’t want to post the whole art yet for reasons, I do at least want to post this portrait at the very least and a small snippet that features him that may, or may not, be kept in the final version of the story.

That chill ran down his spine again as the swordsman looked towards his advisor. Somehow, despite not being able to actually see his eyes, Noctis just knew that he could tell where the man was looking. This meant that somehow - impossibly - this man had magic. To make matters worse, it was somehow resonating with his own.

"You're impossible," Noctis mumbled softly, as he started to make some connection over this black haired, black leather clad stranger. This drew the attention of the swordsman and this time, Noctis felt like his breath had simply been taken from him. All of that magic he could feel was turned on him in an instant.

"Am I?" As the swordsman approached, Noctis began to feel his legs buckle again. It was not from a physical force this time, but instead the sheer overwhelming presence that buried itself into the very core of his being.

Noctis just wanted to shout for Luna and Ignis to stay away! Stay far away! However, he found himself frozen within the stranger’s overwhelming power and he was unable to even speak a single word.

Once he was near Noctis, the masked swordsman settled onto a knee and reached out with a gloved hand to gently wrap leather-clad fingers around Noctis' chin and force the prince to look up at him. Noctis fought hard to keep his eyes forward and not recoil under the magic being pressed against him.

"I'm not the one who is out of time," the swordsman's words were heavy and cleanly punctuated.

Of course, Noctis thought angrily to himself. Of course he knows.

Oh yeah. I’ve also got a set of special dividers integrated into the workskin I’ve been working on for segno. It’s not the ones I’ve used here, but they do use this same style. I might as well use this as a preview as well, right? They have a very special purpose, and I’m eager for those to be seen as well. However, I want to keep the actual dividers a bit of a secret still.

Last, but not least, I’ve been in the process of designing and planning a ruins to kind of serve as a ‘final dungeon’ of the story. Sort of. It’ll make more sense down the line, I promise.

Speaking of the ending. That’s actually written. I know exactly where I’m going in segno now. I just need to get there.

You can find other stuff I’ve posted about this story under the tag ‘#dal segno al coda stuff’

Twilight

This little AU that has the chapter by chapter ‘end of life’ story for Noctis in an AU where he survived the end of the game. An important aspect of the story is that he gave up his royal title and has begun living a hermit-like lifestyle in Duscae while hiding his true identity.

I promised a bunch of other side stories and I finally got Granting Another Light out not too long ago.

There are multiple shorts that I’ve got outlined and need to finish. They have the following titles:

A Quiet Morning - This details Noct’s morning routine late in the story. Just a simple bit of fluff with no real direction. It just adds color to the whole story.

A New Restart - This is the short about the “incident” that was mentioned in the main story where Noct blew his cover, and how it forced him to change his lifestyle.

The Puzzle Box - The making of a certain puzzle box that has an important role in the main story.

Some Things Never Change - Noct runs into Sania after a job. The worst part is she recognizes him.

There are still three more stories worked up that don’t have titles yet. And a fourth that’s just going to be a bunch of random texting shorts between Noct and his friends.

Inconvenient Blessings

This will be a small pre-canon one-shot that is Regis-centered, following Regis and Clarus at a special event for a Children’s Day celebration, where little 6-year old Noctis is with them due to the holiday.

It features a very clear moment of “kids say the darnedest things.” And when that kid is the Crown Prince, those little things can be more troublesome than normal.

This may be the final outcome from an incomplete and untitled story that I finally posted to AO3 sometime ago. This little short explores the idea that the general public likely has superstitions around the Lucian royalty and their divine connections with the Crystal. And children mucking that up.

Nothing is fully written on it, but this has been outlined and it’s ready to start. I just need to get it more clearly in my head so that I can begin writing on it.

Untitled Psych Horror Story

This 5-chapter jaunt that I’ve started working on delves into psychological horror, which I’ve never played around with in writing before. I’m a little excited with the idea of the story, but a bit nervous on it at the same time. This is because it’s a genre I’ve never written before. However, once the idea for this story got into my head, and the more I played around with ideas for it, the more I found myself wanting to actually write the damn thing.

The most important thing that has me very daunted on this story is that I feel like I’m invoking stuff I’ve come across from other fic writers like @breakfastteatime​ and @every-lemon and I’m a little terrified and hope I can do their works justice. (by the way, read their fics, they’re amazing.)

---

"Iris," Gladio mumbled as he walked into the living room and saw her lounging on the sofa with a magazine. It looked very... off from the kind of thing she'd read. Cover lines on it included topics such as Increased Spam Calls to Insomnian Citizens Require Legislative Intervention and The Ideals of the Lucian Royalty: A Bygone Dream.

"Hey, Gladdy," she said cheerfully from behind the magazine, but yelped as he abruptly pulled it from her hands.

"What's got you reading this kind of shlock?"

"What are you talking about, give that back!" It wasn't too hard for the older of the siblings to hold the magazine out of reach.

Gladio looked at the magazine to show her the cover lines, when he stopped short after glancing at it again. The cover was now different from what he had seen before. It had originally looked like some sort of business magazine, but now? It was just a local fashion magazine. He quickly flipped through the pages to make sure he was seeing things. When he convinced himself that he was, in fact, imagining it, he just tossed it back onto Iris' lap.

"What's gotten into you, Gladio?" Iris sat up on the sofa as she snatched the magazine into a hand.

Gladio rubbed at the side of his head. "I'm not sure. Today's been a very odd day."

---

So there you go. A bunch of stuff on works that I’ve got on the sidelines and the monster fic itself. I’m always happy to answer questions in my ask box for these stories, as well. Especially since some of them are now playing with canon and stuff that was never really fully fleshed out in the original game.

[sealedsanctuary]

霹靂異數之龍圖霸業 Pili Anomalous: The Dragon Domination · 2001 - White Prince & Black Prince

"Did you really gave up the sword to learn the blade?"

"Who said I gave up the sword? Soon after I will let you know."

"I will wait."

[thetearstains]

Black Clad Swordsman // White Clad Swordsman

[ferhog]

People apparently debated back in the day who's the better villain between Kefka and Sephiroth, and while Kefka does honestly feel like the better written villain he is unfortunately held back by the fact that he isn't a black-clad, katakana-wielding swordsman named Sephiroth.

[shiroi---kumo]

( @ghostboy-291 would like to befriend the cloud ) ->

There are many oddities in this place. This world. It's not any sort of afterlife (he would know if he was there again), and yet this "Wonderland" has more ghosts than any other place he has ever visited. The boy has to wonder why it's called such a strange thing, but beyond that... He has other things to worry about. The warnings, mostly - things said by the scared townsfolk telling him to stay away from the White Devil. No rumors like that usually exist in full truth, and whatever or whoever the White Devil is... he is probably much better company than these people who drove him away and hate him. The eleven-year-old continues his awkward, hunched shamble alongside his friend, the little Mimikyu seeming content enough to help him search for this white mist everyone seems so afraid of. This Devil wasn't hard to find at all, if his assumption is correct. Sitting up in some tree, moonlight reflecting off of several brilliant crystal horns. He is white in every other aspect from what Allister can tell looking up at him, with the sword mentioned in some of those poems close by to boost confidence in his guess. He kneels to pick up the Mimikyu, debating whether to get the swordsman's attention or to wait for him to come down. His friend chooses for him, letting out a little series of chirps and 'kyu's to explain that answers will come easier from someone like this than someone in town. "... Mhm," he agrees. "You're... you're probably right..." Now the hard part. With a deep breath, he makes sure his mask is still on, totally obscuring his face. "I... Excuse me," he starts. "But..." How should he do this? The same way he usually does when he speaks to supposed demons. They've always turned out to be friends and they're usually just as scared as he is. "But... I um... I like your horns... Purple is... such a nice color. Um... my favorite." It's probably obvious, with how he is clad in purple from head to knee. His shoes and mask are white, of course, but his entire outfit otherwise is black and violet. It's common ground to build conversation off of, at least, if they both like purple. Anyone who gets cast out like this can surely do with having something nice said about them, and it's probably better if it seems genuine. If there's any sort of ghost or demon, Allister will be the one to befriend them. They are not bad. At worst, misguided... but usually just deeply misunderstood. A lot like himself. The living people are usually the cruel ones.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ "I like your horns." Is not a sentence the Misterican hears often, moreover ever in a place like this. A compliment to the color and a head of snow and porcelain is turning to drop jade moons down on the source of the voice. A small child of dark hair and the oldest face - no if he had to wager a guess that was just a mask. Most likely for protection but a different kind than his own provided.

If he had to wager a guess, it was to scare away any who may attempt to harm the boy, all considering the look of it. Perhaps this boy thought him the otherworldly. The boy's small friend had referred to him as 'someone like this' so that meant he was separating from anyone else the boy could have met in the town just a ways down the road.

Perhaps he heard the rumors then? Perhaps the boy thought him a demon... If so then why would he approach. He couldn't say he wasn't curious.

So the swordsman is swinging his legs around so they can hang off the branch he's perched upon and his hands can come down to rest on it at his sides.

"That's quite kind of you, young one." He begins as jade continues peer down at the youth before him. "Do you require something? Are you lost? That's quite the mask you have. Marvelous construction. Do you wear it for a reason?"

Still the man of snow does not descend from his perch but instead remains merely looking down from his place within the branches and the moonlight casting from over his shoulders.

"Your small friend is right about what they said, young one. I am not like the others in town. Are you not afraid of me?"

[kazeofthemagun]

@shiroi---kumo asked the summoner:

He's sinking down behind him after the campsite for the night has been set up. There are fish on sticks set by the fire to roast as the night starts to settle all around them and the chill of the night air comes in to cling to exposed skin. White clad arms extend and wrap loosely around the Windarian's shoulders as the body of white moves up close behind his back.

"Kiitos Black Wind." He sounds. "For fetching dinner. I'm still no good at fishing. So really, I thank you for it. " And he's grinning as he softly tips his head to lean against a mess of red hair. For now he'll just linger in the moment.

Give the Hunter a Hug

Loose white fabric came to drape over a form of darkness, his Other's touch featherlight as always. Sometimes the Cloud truly did feel like just another ghost over his shoulder.

Kaze mumbled under his breath, a lazy 'mhmm' sinking into the black fabric that obscured his face. The scent of roasted fish drifted up from the bonfire, and he could feel his stomach grumble in anticipation of the meal. Damnation, he may be immortal but still did hunger plague the body of man and Beast alike. He wondered briefly what it would be like, to never again have to feed it.

Convenient? Sure. And yet, it was not something he was willing to simply give up. Perhaps he was growing too attached to a mortal's life. But then again, could a mortal really ever become a machine that neither needed nor wanted..?

He could save the philosophy for later. Now, he craved one thing and that thing was fish.

A calloused hand reached for two of the sticks, bringing one to his mouth and taking a large bite. The second was lifted up, stopping just short of the swordsman's nose.

"Foish..? Foish." He asked through a mouthful of meat, then immediately affirmed. Yes, foish.

Foish very good.