#sailor golden sun

[autisticabbey]

My DIY Sun puzzle piece socks and reusable grocery bags, Golden Sun puzzle piece socks and reusable grocery bags, Sol puzzle piece T shirt and designer sneakers, and Juno and Emerald Earth Halloween puzzle piece socks, and my customized Sun bath towels set, Golden Sun bath towels set, Sol mesh laundry bag, folding laundry basket, and bath towels set, and Juno and Emerald Earth Halloween bath towels set.

[miaqc1]

@jhenuelleartblog04 commissioned drawings showcase.

✨ Mia from Golden Sun, Koromaru from Persona 3, Sailor Moon's Luna, 2 Pikmin. 🌟

[cinemajunkie70]

Happy Birthday in the afterlife to Yukio Mishima!

[hoops24]

☀️🌹⏱️

[yandere-daze]

I thought it was high time that I finally wrote something for this man and this idea was stuck in my head for days. I hope you enjoy! <3

gn reader

2.3k words

cw yandere, obsessive behaviour, hypnotizing siren song, manipulation

Yandere! Siren! Sunday x Sailor! Reader

You weren´t supposed to be anything more than an easy prey. A human led astray by his enchanting tunes like any other, only to be torn apart once within reach.

You were a simple sailor sailing the deep waters of the ocean with your small crew. For what purpose? Sunday wasn´t quite sure and he didn´t really care to know. All he yearned for was sinking his claws into your vulnerable flesh as he dragged you to the bottom of the ocean.

You see, Sunday was a siren, a hunter in the image of a beautiful young man with grey hair and enchanting golden eyes. Were it not for his singing voice, a deep gaze into his radiant eyes would be enough to tempt any poor fool into his waiting arms. Yet his voice, oh his voice, its heavenly sound masking his dark intentions.

Within his lifetime, Sunday has lured many unfortunate sailors to their demise though, in recent times, fewer and fewer boats have delved through the waters he called his home. From what he had witnessed being whispered onboard, tales of cunning and vicious sirens roaming these waters have reached the mainland, causing many to steer clear and avoid this place.

This naturally annoyed Sunday, for the flesh of humans was what he sustained himself with. This fact only increased his determination when after quite a long while of waiting for a sign of life, a boat had finally lost its way into his domain again. Sunday had been hungry for way too long now, he couldn´t let this stroke of luck go to waste.

So certain that he would finally claim his prey again, he decided to first spy on the passengers of the boat before making his move. It was important for him to know the routines and habits of the sailors if he wanted to catch them alone to entice them to run into their doom.

As a siren, Sunday was more powerful than an average human but even he wouldn´t be able to fight off several sailors if he were to try and hypnotize someone in broad daylight. He couldn´t risk the crew becoming aware of his presence and leaving, he couldn´t go on without another meal again.

And so, he secretly started spying on the passengers of the small boat, staring at them from behind a rock and making sure to keep his tail concealed within the water. He watched everyone go along with their days on board the ship when something unexpected happened.

He saw you, stepping away from the rest of the crew to stand near the edge of the boat, a smile on your face as you let the sun shine on your face. Without even realizing it, you had stepped close to where Sunday had gone to hide. You were so close, almost within arm´s reach. For a moment, Sunday deliberated if this was his chance to strike.

With you separated from the rest of the crew like this, it would be a simple thing indeed to lure you into the waters where you would disappear forever.

But just as he thought this, he stopped in his tracks as he watched your carefree smile, suddenly becoming enchanted by the way the light of the sun rained upon your skin. For lack of a better word, your presence at that very moment was mesmerizing and Sunday felt warm inside as if the rays of the sun were descending on him instead.

And then, for a moment, Sunday almost felt his heart stop for then you opened your mouth and started, he almost couldn´t believe it, singing.

There you were, practically within the jaws of a predator, and letting your soul rejoice in song so carelessly. And yet, within your naivety, Sunday couldn´t help but feel at peace. Your song rang out across the lonely waters, unaware that your secret audience was becoming more and more enchanted by you by the second.

Your singing, Sunday couldn´t quite describe it. It sounded nothing like his own singing, which was beautiful and yet felt intrinsically wrong somehow. Your song was nothing like that. It might have not been as pretty or practiced as his own singing, but yet it managed to ring true within his heart. Your song felt earnest and real, untainted and uncorrupted by malice. Within seconds, you had captured his attention and heart, yet you were completely unaware that he was even present.

In an ironic twist of fate, Sunday felt himself being pulled towards you as if touched by magic, an ardent longing for you deep within his chest. It was as if you were the siren calling out to him, beckoning him closer like a lovesick sailor lost at sea, yet Sunday was sure that instead of a sudden demise, he would find true salvation within your arms. With the way you were holding out your arms, he could almost imagine you wrapping them around his body in a lover´s embrace, pulling him so close as if you would never let go of him again.

Because he knows that´s what he would do if he finally had his beloved in his arms. For only a fool would ever let go of the person they want to spend the rest of their life with. It filled him all at once, this desire to have you for his own, to make you his dearest mate.

You were radiant and joyful in a way he had never seen before and he couldn´t bear the thought of letting you slip away from him.

And from the desperate yearning he could so clearly hear in your song dedicated to just him, he knew that you must feel the same way. You were just waiting, begging to be taken away by him. Why else would you walk so close to him, all on your own and profess all of your feelings like this? Sunday now knew that this meeting was fated to happen and he would be sure not to waste it.

He had been watching you closely for the past few days along with the other sailors aboard the ship and he saw how the other crew members acted around you. He had thought nothing of it back then but now boiling jealousy filled his being as he remembered how chummy they had been acting with you. How they had laughed and joked around with you so easily, how they had thrown their arms around you and sang cheery tunes beneath the starry sky.

He especially detested that one scoundrel that had dared to kiss your cheek so invasively. How dare they treat you like this? How dare they lay their filthy hands on you when your beauty was meant for solely him to treasure? But not to worry, Sunday would finally bring you home and keep you safe.

He understood your surprise when he finally emerged from his hiding spot and started swimming towards you. You looked so pitiful with your body shaking and your eyes growing wide when you saw his shimmering white mermaid tail. You poor thing must be frightened out of your mind because of all these stories you were told about his kind but do not be afraid! Sunday would never hurt you like this.

You were special to him, you just needed to allow him to show you that. You backing away from the railing, backing away from him, just wouldn´t do.

"Darling, there is no reason to be afraid, I´m not here to hurt you, do not let their horrid tales corrupt your thoughts. I am here to finally take you home!" He reached out his hands to you, wishing for you to jump into them and accept his love willingly yet he could only click his tongue in disappointment when instead, you took another step back.

"D-don´t come any closer!", you shouted out, breaking the poor siren´s heart in the process. How it hurt him to see you so frightened that you would turn your soulmate away. But no matter, he was prepared to take matters into his own hands and nudge you towards your own happy ending. You just needed a little bit of convincing.

"My darling, please listen to me! You and me, I know we were meant to be! So please don´t resist this, alright?", he hummed gently, his voice almost pitiful while begging you to hear him out.

You would have even felt sympathy for him if you weren´t acutely aware that you were facing a dangerous predator. There was no doubt in your mind that this was a siren and you needed to get away from there fast.

But unfortunately for you, you weren´t quick enough for as soon as you had gathered your resolve, Sunday´s ethereal singing voice had swiftly broken it down.

Suddenly, all your previous thoughts about him being a danger to stay away from evaporated, leaving you confused as to why you ever wanted to run away from him. There was nothing dangerous about him, was there?

Instead, your mind was now being filled with pleasant images of you and the siren spending time together, of him holding you close protectively, of him swearing his eternal love and kissing you. All of a sudden, you felt warm all over as you gazed deep into Sunday´s eyes and you knew that he was the one that was meant for you.

Slowly, one step at a time, you walked closer to the edge of the boat again, where Sunday was happily holding out his hands for you to take, eagerly grasping at air as if to usher you even closer.

And you were all too eager to follow his demands as a sugary sweet melody droned on and on in your ears, overwhelming you with feelings of everlasting love and devotion.

"That´s it, darling. Come closer. It´s only a few more steps.", he urged you on, almost desperately as you almost came into touching range. It was only a few more moments until he could finally have you in his arms. And once he did, he would never allow you to leave him again. Not that you would be able to underwater.

Voices were picking up in the background, quickly getting closer and Sunday realized that your crew must have picked up on what was happening.

"Come here quickly, darling!", he shouted, his voice growing more urgent and desperate the closer the booming voices got.

And you did as he said, quickening your steps towards him with a lovesick smile on your face.

"I´m almost there, my love", you said and Sunday´s heart almost burst at the sweet tone you took with him. He knew you were currently under the influence of his siren song but he strongly wanted to believe that the love you felt for him was real. Why else would you too be looking at him so full of yearning?

"Someone, quick! Grab on to them! That siren is trying to lead them to their death!", a gruff voice yells from the back with several more footsteps scrambling quickly behind. They were advancing on you fast and Sunday knew he was almost out of time as one quickly ran up to you.

"No, no, no! Don´t touch them! They´re mine! Don´t ruin this for me!", he yelled out in anger, his eyes a furious storm as they glared at the person trying to get a hold of you. He couldn´t fail so close to the end. How dare they accuse him of trying to harm you?!

"Please, you need to come to your senses!", the sailors try to reason with you but it´s almost like you can´t even register what they say.

" I need to meet with my love, he´s waiting for me.", you say, still smiling as you step to the very edge of the boat, looking down at a Sunday growing more and more manic by the second.

"Jump into my arms, darling! Accept my love and be mine forever!", the siren calls out to you as a crew member grabs into your arms, trying to pull you back.

"Don´t listen to him! Please, don´t do as he says!"

You struggle violently against the hold, kicking and screaming, demanding to be let go.

"No, you can´t separate me from my love, let me go! I need to be by his side!", you scream and with an especially harsh kick, the sailor lets go of you for a moment, leaving you with enough time to take the final step and jump right into your demise.

Sunday gently catches you in his arms, a lovesick smile on his face as he finally gets to hold you like he wanted to. You´re finally all his and there´s nothing that can be done about it anymore.

"I´m so happy you chose me, darling. We´re going to be so happy together. I´ll take such good care of you. No one else is ever going to touch you again.", he whispers into your ear and you can´t help but giggle joyfully at the prospect, your mind singing with affection, drowning out the growing panic within you.

But what is there to be afraid of? You´re finally united with the love of your life and nothing will ever separate you again.

Sunday holds you firmly as he quickly swims away from the boat, leaving your panicked crewmates behind.

Now that he finally has you, he will make sure that you´ll grow to love him even without his song. He knows that deep down, you love him just as much as he does you, you´ll just need a little bit of time to adjust to your new life underwater. He knows of a very beautiful underwater cave that he can keep you in until you grow more accustomed to your new life with him. Down there, you´ll never be able to escape his grasp again.

You will be his forever, for that is the consequence of putting him under a spell like you has.

And then he takes you with him to the very depths of the sea, never to be seen again.

[bleedingoptimism]

The night of the events of Starcourt, Steve lies about his parents being home because he doesn't want to impose on anyone else. So he says his parents are waiting for him back home and Joyce drops him off to get some rest.

Steve gets home and immediately realizes it's a horrible idea, he's concussed, confused, alone, scared, and in pain.

He panics and ends up walking through the woods alone where Wayne finds him when he's getting home from work.

Wayne freaks out over the injured sailor boy that looks like he hasn't slept in days and who is confused about how he got there.

He convinces Steve to come in for coffee, but when they get inside Steve starts looking around fascinated by every little trinket. he ends up in Eddie's room,

"Where am I?" he wonders and even through the questions and fears it makes Wayne chuckle, 

"This is my nephew's room" He answers looking at Steve walk around with stars in his eyes at the mess.

"He must be really cool," he tells Wayne.

Wayne nods and smirks but then Steve catches his own reflection in the mirror,

"is that me? Jesus no wonder you look so worried, I look like shit"

And he says something that breaks Wayne's heart a little, "I'm sorry," and he looks so sad too, and so honest like he really thinks him not looking okay is a problem for Wayne. Like Wayne would get mad at him for not being 'presentable'.

"I should leave," Steve says.

Wayne raises his arms in mock surrender,

"Woah, no kid, it's fine, you don't look that bad, I was only worried because you look tired. When was the last time you slept?"

Steve thinks for a while and frowns, "I don't remember..."

"Why don't you rest here in this cool room," Wayne asks him with a kind smile, "and then will get that coffee, ok?"

Steve agrees and falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow.

Wayne sighs and leaves the room, he sits on the couch and sees on the tv the news about the fire.

It's an explanation, not the whole truth but it's something. Clearly, Steve was there but that doesn't explain the bruises, the confusion, the fear. He feels like something else might be going on.

And why on gods earth was that kid all alone?

Eventually, he falls asleep too.

.

So when Eddie gets home from spending the night at Jeff's after a gig, he finds his uncle sleeping on the couch and doesn't find it weird at all, he tiptoes to his room for a change of clothes and there he finds the fucking former king of hawkings wearing the skimpiest sailor uniform sleeping on his bed, and for a second he thinks 'is it my birthday?' but then Steve turns in his sleep and Eddie sees his face and thinks 'shit'

He is instantly worried, no matter how much he dislikes jocks, no one deserves to be brutalized like that.

And to ruin that beautiful face? A crime.

Once more he tiptoes into the hallway and goes where his uncle is slowly waking up. He gets close, real close so when Wayne opens his eyes the first thing he sees is Eddie blinking at him. 

Wayne jumps a little and bites back a curse, "Jesus kid!"

Eddie chuckles, "Sorry, Wayne. Might telling me about the little sailor in my bed?"

Wayne sighs and tells him.

.

When Steve wakes up a bit later is to the sound of Eddie's acoustic. He's sitting in his desk chair, plucking a sweet and soft melody,

"Morning goldilocks," he tells him with a smile.

Steve, who had a bunch of excuses and apologies lined up already frowns, and inclines his head, "Goldilocks?"

"I found you sleeping in my bed, didn't I?" Eddie answers sweetly.

Steve blushes, he can't help it, and once more instead of getting up and leaving he gets distracted by Eddie's whole deal.

"I'm not even blond" he argues.

Eddie bows his head at him, as if to say he got him there, but then says,

"You have locks of hair that look golden in the sun, goldilocks"

Steve really hopes the bruises cover his blush, he really, really hopes. But judging from Eddie's smile, he can't tell it's not the case.

"I should leave," he says moving slowly to the edge of the bed.

Eddie places his guitar on the desk and turns to fully look at him, "You don't have to. If you don't want to," he points to something on the bottom of the bed, "Look, clean clothes and my fluffiest towel, why don't you take a shower and then we drink that coffee my uncle promised?"

And Steve’s heart hurts with how much he wants that. He doesn't want to be alone, he wants to stay here with the kind wonderful man he met last night and Eddie, who played guitar for him while he slept and thinks his hair is golden, but still...

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose"

Eddie snorts and mouthes 'impose' to himself before leaning closer and looking Steve in the eyes,

"I'm sure, Goldie. Go, shower. I'll go put the kettle on"

And steve can't do much more than nod and smile shyly at him.

[cera-writes]

Like Nothing Matters

A/N: It's finally done!! I've been dying to write this one. This is based on the song 'Nothing Matters by The Last Dinner Party' Pairing: Remy LeBeau "Gambit" x F!Reader Tags: jealousy, one sided pining, angst, friends with benefits, friends to lovers, nsfw themes Summary: Reader has been pining for Remy's attention for as long as she can remember. But his attention has always been for Rogue. He's been using reader for sex, something he could never have with Rogue. Reader is tired of being used so she gives Remy an ultimatum.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the city as Remy LeBeau leaned against the sleek, cherry-red convertible. His eyes were fixed on Rogue and Magneto, who stood a few feet away, their bodies close in a way that spoke of more than just mentor and student. Remy's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"Remy," you called softly, stepping up beside him. You followed his gaze, your heart sinking at the sight that always seemed to pain him. "You know you can't—"

"Gambit know what he can't have," he snapped, cutting you off. His voice was sharp, but there was a raw vulnerability beneath the surface. "But dat don' mean he can't want it."

I have my sentence now

At last I know just how you felt

You swallowed hard, your own feelings for Remy bubbling to the surface like acid. You'd been in love with him for so long, watching him pine after Rogue while you were right here, longing for him to see you. "Maybe we should go," you suggested, hoping to distract him from the scene before him.

Remy didn't respond immediately. He took a deep breath, his eyes closing briefly before he nodded. "Yeah, let's get outta here."

He led you to the convertible, sliding into the driver's seat with a practiced ease. You settled into the passenger seat, the soft leather cool against your skin. The engine roared to life, the sound echoing through the quiet street as Remy peeled away from the curb.

The city lights blurred into streaks of color as they sped through the streets, the wind whipping through your hair. You glanced at Remy, his profile illuminated by the passing lights, his expression unreadable. You reached out, your hand resting on his knee, a silent offer of comfort.

Remy glanced at you, his eyes dark and intense in the dim light. "Ya really wanna do dis?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. "Do what?"

"Dis," he said, his hand covering yours, squeezing gently. "Us. Right now. Here."

I dig my fingers in, expecting more than just the skin

Your breath caught in your throat, your mind racing. You knew what this could mean, what it could lead to. But you also knew the risk, the potential heartbreak. "Are you sure?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

Remy didn't answer. Instead, he pulled the car over to the side of the road, the tires screeching slightly as they came to a halt. He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. "Remy need dis," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "He need... something."

You nodded, understanding more than he might realize. "Okay," you breathed, your resolve strengthening. "Let's do this."

Remy leaned in, his lips brushing against yours gently at first, then deepening the kiss with a desperate urgency. You responded, your hands finding his face, pulling him closer. The world around you faded away, the only reality the two of you, locked in this stolen moment.

His hands roamed over your body, his touch both familiar and thrilling. You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss intensified. The car seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with desire. This was the sum of your relationship with Remy. It all boiled down to sex. You were a means to an end, nothing more.

'Cause we're a lot alike

In favor, like a motorbike

A sailor and a nightingale

Dancing in convertibles

"You can hold me," you murmured against his lips, your voice shaky with emotion. "Like he held her."

Remy froze for a moment, the words piercing through the haze of lust. He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them. "And whatta 'bout you, chere?" he asked, his voice raw. "What do ya want?"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I guess I'll just keep fucking you like nothing matters," you confessed, the truth spilling out before you could stop it.

Remy's eyes darkened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He didn't speak, his silence heavy between you. Instead, he kissed you again, his hands moving with a newfound intensity, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn't get close enough.

You let a soft moan escape your lips at his sudden urgency, wrapping your hands around his neck as your fingers entangled in his hair. The car rocked gently, the sounds of the city muted outside as you lost yourself in each other. Each touch, each kiss, felt like a secret shared, a betrayal of sorts, yet it was a connection you both craved. It was reckless, wild, and utterly consuming.

As the moments stretched into what felt like hours, you clung to Remy, your body melding with his, your hearts beating in sync despite the chaos of your emotions. You knew this couldn't last, that it was a temporary escape from the realities of your lives. But in this moment, with Remy, it felt like everything else ceased to exist.

"Remy," you whispered, your voice hoarse with passion. "Please..."

He kissed you fiercely, his response a mix of desperation and tenderness. You arched against him, your body aching for more, for completion. The world outside the car faded away, the only reality the two of you, intertwined in this stolen moment. The windows were fogged up past the point of no return as you gripped onto the seat, your breaths mingling in the confined space.

The night grew deeper, the city quieter as you explored each other, each movement fueled by a hunger that seemed insatiable. It was raw, primal, a dance of bodies and souls that defied logic and reason.

As the final moments approached, you clung to Remy, your breaths mingling in the dimly lit space. Your bodies moved together, a symphony of pleasure and pain, of longing and release. It was brutal and beautiful, a testament to the complexity of human desires.

"Remy!" you gasped, your voice breaking as the climax washed over you.

He buried his face in your neck, his body shuddering with the force of his release. You held him tightly, your fingers digging into his back, feeling the weight of the moment settle heavily between you.

For a long while, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the ragged breathing, the thud of your hearts trying to find a steady rhythm. You stayed locked in each other's arms, the aftermath of passion leaving you both vulnerable and exposed.

Eventually, Remy lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. There was a depth to his gaze, a mixture of regret and wonder. "Dat was..." he began, his voice husky.

"Intense," you finished for him, your own voice tinged with uncertainty.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. Intense."

You shifted slightly, adjusting your clothes as you tried to gather your thoughts. He helped you fix the strap on your tank top. The air in the car felt charged, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. You wanted to ask him what this meant, where it left you both. But the words stuck in your throat, too afraid of the answers.

Remy cleared his throat, his gaze shifting towards the window. "We should probably head back," he said, his voice strained.

You nodded, even though part of you wanted to protest, to demand more from him. But you knew better than to push. Not yet, at least. "Yeah, okay," you agreed, your tone resigned.

We've got the highway tight

The moon is bursting with headlights

One more and we're away

Love tender in your Chevrolet

He started the car, the engine roaring back to life as he pulled back onto the road. The city lights blurred once more, the world outside a kaleidoscope of colors. You watched it all pass by, your mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions.

As the car wound its way through the streets, you stole glances at Remy, trying to read his mood. He seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. You wondered if he was thinking of Rogue, or if, perhaps, for the first time, he was considering the possibility of something more with you.

The thought both thrilled and terrified you. You wanted him to see you, to acknowledge the depth of your feelings. But you also feared the rejection, the potential heartbreak. It was a delicate balance, one you struggled to maintain as the miles ticked by.

Finally, the car slowed, turning into the driveway of your residence. Remy parked the vehicle, the engine idling quietly as he stared straight ahead. You waited, unsure of what to say, what to do.

"Thanks for... tonight," he said eventually, his voice low. "It meant a lot, mon ami."

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. "Yeah. Anytime."

He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. "Can I see ya again? Properly?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and hopeful. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "Um... yeah. I'd like that," you answered honestly, your voice trembling slightly.

Remy smiled, a genuine warmth lighting up his features. "Good. 'Cause Remy think he might need ya."

You returned his smile, relief flooding through you. "Then I'll be here," you promised, your voice strong.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss. It was brief, tender, a promise of more to come. Then he pulled back, his eyes locking with yours. "Until next time, cher," he murmured, his voice soft.

You nodded, your heart full as you watched him exit the car. The door shut quietly, the sound echoing through the stillness. You remained seated, your mind a whirl of thoughts and feelings.

As the car engine purred to life once more, you knew that whatever happened next, you were in it together. For better or worse, you had claimed your place in Remy's life, and he in yours. It was a beginning, a fragile hope amidst the chaos of your worlds.

The car pulled away from the curb, the headlights slicing through the darkness. You watched it disappear down the street, your heart swelling with a mix of anticipation and fear. But as the taillights faded into the distance, you knew one thing for certain: you were ready for whatever came next.

-

It was Saturday finally.

The sun had barely begun to dip below the horizon when Remy LeBeau, clad in his signature leather jacket and a mischievous grin, revved the engine of his black motorbike outside your house. You heard the deep rumble from inside, a sound that always sent a shiver down your spine—in more ways than one. Today was different, though. Today, he wasn't just here for a casual fling; he had something else on his mind.

You stepped out onto the porch, dressed in a simple yet elegant black dress that hugged your curves just right. Remy's eyes lingered on you a moment longer than usual, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze before he offered you a helmet with a flourish. "Ready to ride, chere?" he asked, his voice smooth as velvet.

Nodding, you straddled the bike behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist instinctively. The familiar warmth of his body against yours should have been comforting, but there was an edge to it today, a tension that hadn't been there before. As he pulled away from the curb, the wind whipping through your hair, you couldn't help but wonder what tonight held in store.

The city lights blurred past as Remy weaved through traffic, his skill on the bike as impressive as ever. You clung tighter, your body pressed against his back, feeling the subtle shifts of muscle as he maneuvered. It was during these moments, when the world outside faded into a blur of motion, that you felt most connected to him—or at least, you had thought so until now.

After what felt like an eternity but was really just a few thrilling minutes, Remy slowed the bike to a stop in front of an old, ornate theater you hadn't noticed before. The marquee glowed with the words "Love Unmasked," a play that seemed oddly fitting given the circumstances.

Remy helped you off the bike, his hands lingering on your hips longer than necessary. "Thought we could start with a bit of culture," he said, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his usually confident tone.

Inside, the theater was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old wood and anticipation. Remy led you to your seats, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. The proximity sent a thrill through you, but it was tempered by the realization that this wasn't just another date. Something had changed, and you weren't sure you were ready for whatever it was.

As the lights dimmed and the curtain rose, you tried to focus on the stage, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Remy. His leg brushed against yours occasionally, a silent invitation or perhaps a plea for understanding. The play, a tale of hidden identities and forbidden love, seemed to mirror your own situation eerily.

Halfway through the performance, Remy leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Chere, dere's somethin' Gambit need to tell you," he murmured, his voice low and urgent.

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "What is it, Remy?"

He hesitated, his gaze flickering around the nearly empty theater before meeting yours again. "Remy... Remy think he been a fool," he admitted, his expression raw with emotion. "He thought he was jus' usin' you, but... he can't deny it anymore. Chere, I'm in love with you."

The confession hung heavy in the air between you, a mix of shock and relief washing over you. You had sensed something shifting, but hearing it aloud was both terrifying and exhilarating. "Remy..." you began, unsure of what to say.

Before you could respond, he continued, his voice tinged with desperation. "Remy know he don't deserve you, not after how he treated you, but he can't go on like this. Not knowin' if ya feel the same."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, feeling the calluses from years of card-playing and thievery. "Remy, I..."

But the rest of your response was cut off by the sudden burst of applause as the actors took their bows. The spell was broken, the moment lost in the noise of the crowd. Remy looked away, frustration and regret etched across his features. "We should go," he said quietly, standing up and offering you his hand.

Outside, the night had grown cooler, the air crisp with the promise of autumn. Remy helped you back onto the bike, his movements mechanical, distant. As he started the engine, the roar seemed louder than before, a stark contrast to the quietude of his demeanor.

The ride back was silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts. The weight of Remy's confession lingered, a heavy burden neither of you knew how to bear. When he finally stopped in front of your house, he turned off the engine and faced you, his eyes searching yours for some sign of what to do next.

"Tonight... it meant a lot to Remy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "He jus' need to know... d'you feel de same?"

You swallowed hard, the truth bubbling up inside you, desperate to be set free. "Remy..."

And we're a lot alike

In favor, like a motorbike

A sailor and a nightingale

Dancing in convertibles

You leaned in, your lips meeting Remy's in a passionate kiss that spoke volumes more than words ever could. The intensity of the moment seemed to shatter the silence that had enveloped you both. As you pulled him inside, the door to your place closed behind you with a soft thud, sealing the night and its revelations within.

Remy's hands found your waist, then moved upward, his grip firm as he pressed you against the wall. His kisses were sloppy yet hungry, each one a desperate claim on the emotions swirling between you. You felt the heat of his breath on your neck, the scratch of his stubble adding an edge to the tenderness.

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

With a hand on Remy's chest, you gently pushed back, creating space between you. He looked at you with concern. "You wan' me to stop, chere?"

"Remy," you whispered, looking into his eyes, "are you sure this is what you want? There are no more lingering feelings for Rogue on your part?"

His expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossing his features before he steadied himself. "Chere," he said, his voice resolute, "Gambit is leavin' all dat in de past now. You... you're his future."

The sincerity in his words washed over you, a wave of relief and acceptance. You nodded, understanding the weight of his confession and the promise it held. Without another word, you drew him close again, your lips finding his once more, this time with a shared certainty that echoed through every touch, every kiss.

The night unfolded around you, each moment a step into the unknown, guided by the fragile thread of newfound love.

As you led Remy upstairs, the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. The soft glow from a nearby lamp cast long shadows along the walls, adding an intimate ambiance to the space. You could feel Remy's eyes on you, his gaze intense and unwavering as he followed close behind.

Entering your bedroom, you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. Remy stepped closer, his hands gently cupping your cheeks as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss deepened, fueled by the emotions that had been simmering between you both.

"Chere," he murmured against your lips, "Gambit wants to show you how much y'mean to him."

You nodded, your breath mingling with his as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Remy's hands trailed down your back, his touch electric as he slowly began to undress you. Slowly unzipping your dress revealed more of your skin to his appreciative gaze, his eyes darkening with desire.

As you stood before him, bare and vulnerable, Remy's hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve with a tenderness that spoke of his deep affection. You gasped as his fingers found sensitive spots, your head falling back as pleasure coursed through you.

Remy lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed where he laid you down gently. He hovered above you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he lowered himself, his body pressing against yours as he kissed you again, this time with an urgency that left no doubt about his intentions.

The room filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and the rustle of sheets as Remy made love to you with a passion that was both fierce and tender. His movements were deliberate, each thrust a declaration of his feelings, each caress a promise of his devotion. It was almost like this was your real first time together, like you were seeing each other in a new light finally, without the veil of pretending.

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. The world narrowed down to just the two of you, the intensity of the moment consuming all else. Remy's voice, hoarse with emotion, whispered endearments in your ear, his Cajun accent thickening with each word.

"Je t'aime, chere," he breathed, his words a balm to your soul. "Remy loves you more than anythin'."

As the climax approached, the energy between you both reached a crescendo. With a final, powerful thrust, Remy shattered the headboard, the wood splintering loudly in your bedroom. You cried out, your voice merging with his as release washed over you both.

For a long while, you lay tangled together, the aftermath of passion leaving you breathless and sated. Remy propped himself up on his elbows, a mix of guilt and amusement playing across his features as he surveyed the damage.

"Damn... guess Gambit got a bit carried away," he admitted sheepishly, his hand stroking your hair tenderly. "But don't worry, chere, he'll buy ya a new one. A better one."

You laughed, the sound rich and warm, as you pulled him down for another kiss. "I think this one will do for now," you replied, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "But maybe we should test the new one first, make sure it's sturdy enough."

Remy grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Challenge accepted, chere," he said, rolling onto his side to face you. "But right now, Gambit just wants to hold you. Feel you next to him."

You nestled closer, your head resting on his shoulder as you watched the shadows dance on the ceiling. The night outside grew deeper, but inside, the room was filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature. As sleep began to claim you, you felt Remy's hand tighten around yours, a silent promise of his presence and protection.

The next day dawned bright and clear, the sun casting a golden glow over the city as Remy and you stepped out into the morning light. The air was crisp, carrying with it the promise of change, much like the shift in your relationship with Remy.

He ushered you on the back of his bike. Remy seemed pensive, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a seriousness that spoke volumes about his internal struggle.

As you approached the Xavier Institute, the place where Rogue and Magneto had their shared quarters, Remy paused, his hand tightening around yours as you both hopped off his bike. "Chere, Remy need to do dis," he said, his voice low but resolute.

Even when the cold comes crashing through

I'm putting all my bets on you

I hope they never understand us

Nodding, you squeezed his hand in support. "I'm right here with you," you assured him, offering a small, encouraging smile.

Together, you entered the building, the atmosphere inside charged with the energy of the mutants who called this place home. Remy led you through the corridors, his steps purposeful as he navigated towards Rogue's room.

When you arrived at her door, Remy took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. He knocked, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet hall. After a moment, the door swung open, revealing Rogue, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of you both.

"Remy? What's going on?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Remy stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Rogue, we need to talk," he said, his tone serious.

Rogue glanced at you, then back at Remy, her brow furrowing. "Sure, come in," she replied, stepping aside to let you both enter.

Inside, the room was cozy, filled with personal items that spoke of Rogue's personality. Remy sat down on the edge of her bed, while you remained standing near the door, giving them space but ready to offer support if needed.

"What's this about, Remy?" Rogue asked, her gaze shifting between the two of you.

Remy hesitated, his hands clenching slightly before he spoke. "Rogue, we can't keep doin' dis. Pretending dat what we had is enough when it ain't."

Rogue's face paled, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What are you saying, Remy?"

"I'm saying that I'm moving on," Remy admitted, his voice firm despite the pain etched across his features. "Gambit care about you, Rogue, but not in de way he should. Not in the way that makes me happy. Gambit can't keep holding onto to de thought dat we could be somethin' one day. I'm sorry, chere."

Rogue's gaze flicked to you, her expression hardening. "And is this because of her?" she demanded, pointing at you, a look of hurt flashing across her features.

Remy shook his head, his voice steady. "No, it's not jus' cause of her. It's cause of Gambit. Cause he finally realized dat he deserve more, and so does she."

Rogue stood up, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "So, what? You're just going to throw away everything we had for some new fling? I mean... can't say I hardly blame you. I know Magneto and I-"

Remy shushed her, standing as well, his eyes meeting hers directly. "It's not a fling, Rogue. It's real, and it's what Remy need. What we both need."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as Rogue processed Remy's words. Finally, she nodded, her voice thick with emotion. "Fine. If that's what you want, then go."

Remy's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. Instead, he turned to you, offering his hand. You took it without hesitation, your heart heavy but determined.

I put my heart inside your palms

My home in your arms

Now we know nothing matters

Nothing matters

As you walked out of the room, leaving Rogue behind, you felt a mix of relief and sadness. Remy's hand was warm in yours, a tangible symbol of the new path you were walking together.

Outside, the sun had reached its zenith, bathing the world in light. Remy stopped suddenly, turning to face you, his eyes searching yours. "You okay wit' dis?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.

You smiled, though it wobbled slightly at the edges. "I'm okay with us, Remy. With whatever comes next, although, please don't feel like you two can't remain friends on my behalf."

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, letting his warmth seep into your bones.

As you stood there, lost in the moment, Remy's hand drifted down to your ass, his fingers gently squeezing. You gasped softly, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

"Let's go somewhere else," he murmured against your ear, his voice husky with desire. "Somewhere we can be alone."

Nodding, you pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. "Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wrapping your arms around his middle, you both rode away from the Xavier Institute, leaving behind the ghosts of the past as you stepped into the unknown future, ready to face it together, side by side.

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

And you can hold me, like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters, ooh

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

ATLA

Waiting on that morning sun by DustOnDaydreams

“To the Generals, Admirals, Officers, Soldiers and Sailors of the Fire Nation, Halt your advance. Pull back to your nearest military stronghold, and await further orders. Do not engage any forces unless absolutely necessary for your own defence. Put out any fires you come across. Sign it only with the full list of the Fire Lord's titles."

“Your Majesty, do you not want to put your name to the missive?” A young pimpled scribe squeaked out to the shocked silence.

“No. I want them to obey the order.”

Or Zuko's transition from child soldier to young monarch in charge of a corrupted nation

Harry Potter

The Cloak by MoonflowerMorningGlory

Harry is not going back to the Dursleys. He has been out of the cupboard for a whole year; he's not going back in. It's tricky - he doesn't really want to have to explain to anyone. But he's magic now! He has an invisibility cloak! And he's had a lot of practice lying still and pretending he doesn't exist. So he can definitely hide out and avoid being put back on the Hogwarts Express, right? Nothing can go wrong with an eleven year old by themselves for 9 weeks in a wild, magical castle, can it?

Nine Worlds

East First by fire_eyes_chica

"East first, then west and home"

Before they can settle into their well-deserved retirement, first Kip and Fitzroy need to return to the Palace of Stars for the Jubilee celebrations. It's harder than it seems.

these unfaithful hands by rattyjol

His feet were moving again, though he did not recall deciding to go anywhere. He crossed the room, past his desk, past the plinth with the asymmetrical vase, past the tapestry map and the golden nightingale in its cage. Past the terrace, where he had been pleased to break his fast with his Radiancy—only this morning? It felt a thousand years away.

He was standing before the ivory door to the inner apartments, which he had passed through only a handful of times before. His hand raised of its own accord, and the door fell open beneath it.

He became aware, with a creeping dread like tendrils up his throat, that something was terribly wrong.

The Goblin Emperor

Falling (Please Catch Me) by mabonwitch

Maia gains a wife, a lover, and a dav.

Or: "He needs affection, and closeness. He is all but starved for it, and we would see him glutted on it instead.” She raised her chin. “However that happens.”

The Imperial Salon by mabonwitch

The Imperial salon is full of marnei. Vazhik gets a firsthand look at why that might be.

Alternate Title: The Emperor's Gay Lover

the first long welcome by wizardcake

Just a few little conversations and scenes on the topic of Maia becoming, and being, a parent. Fluff with a couple shavings of angst on top for flavor and texture.

[goldfades]

CHARACTERS !

masterlist

maisie christensen

maisie christensen was the kind of person who walked into a room and immediately commandeered the space—not with arrogance, but with the kind of charisma that made you wonder if you’d just met a hurricane disguised as a woman. she was fiercely intelligent, a biomedical engineer who could rattle off complex equations and then swear like a sailor when she stubbed her toe on the corner of her desk. maisie’s loyalty was unmatched, burning with a fire that could either warm or scorch, depending on which side of her you landed. a self-proclaimed dog enthusiast and certified man-hater (a title she wore with ironic pride), she had a sharp wit and a heart bigger than her bite, even if she tried to deny it.

you met maisie in middle school, the kind of meet-cute that belonged in a rom-com if rom-coms were about chaotic pre-teens. she’d yelled a boy for laughing at your braces and instead of apologizing when the teacher caught her, she’d just shrugged and said, “he deserved it.” something about her unapologetic audacity made you gravitate toward her, and she took you in as though you’d been friends forever. over the years, she became the constant in your life—your sounding board, your confidant, the kind of person who would show up uninvited but always at the right time. where you were soft, maisie was sharp, balancing you out in ways you didn’t know you needed.

maisie had a knack for standing at the intersection of chaos and control, and somehow, she always made it work. she was the sister you chose, the one who knew all your secrets and held them close, and no matter how messy life got, she was there—sarcastic, unwavering, and ready to throw hands if the need arose.

hayes burrow

born: april 9th, 2022

hayes burrow was a quiet storm, a little being who entered the world with the softest of cries and the kind of gaze that could melt the most stoic heart. he had his father's wide eyes—bluer than the summer sky and deeper than oceans—and his mother’s stubbornness, sharp and determined even in the gentlest of moments. his hair, though still sparse, was a wispy blonde that gleams like sunlight filtering through morning mist, soft and golden against his delicate skin.

he was a small thing, a gentle weight in your arms, with tiny fingers that curled around yours as if he'd been holding your hand for longer than mere months. the softest coos escaped him, especially when joe leaned in to whisper words that only a father could say, those private little messages meant only for their ears.

and yet, even in his stillness, there was an energy about him, the kind that made everything feel just a little bit brighter. his little kicks were the rhythm of a heartbeat you could count on, his smiles rare but so full of promise. hayes was the answer to so many unspoken questions, the love you had spent your life wondering about, waiting for. he was everything that made your world feel complete, and in the soft quiet of mornings when the sun barely peered over the horizon, you would watch him sleep, his tiny breaths matching the rhythm of your own, and you’d wonder how you had ever lived without him.

[educatedsimps]

hello!!! I love your fics! Can I request a kenma x reader? where he does things he hates but still does it for the reader because the reader loves it? eg: getting wet in the rain etc? thank you if do!!

≪ back to fics masterlist

kozume kenma x reader

a/n: HI ANONNN i'm so glad you like our stuff! and ofc bae :) yes kenma would 100% do stuff he doesn’t like just for his partner because they love it.

cw: not exactly the usual type of fic with a storyline, it's kind of like headcanons? mostly? but written headcanons? i think ????? idk man. anyway it's all fluff and kenma being ridiculously in love with you :)

wc: 1.7k

fic below!

the following is based on true events: lyssa: *sends yves a screenshot of the request* look there's another kenma req! yves: he's a literal cat lyssa: yeah! wait but that's not the point of the- yves: hold on i have a tweet for this lyssa: LMAO ofc u do

okay, on to the real stuff!

"Kenmaaaaa, let's go (insert activity of choice)!"

"...do we have to?"

"Yes! It'll be fun, I promise!"

"...are you sure?"

"Yes, come on!"

"...you really wanna?"

"Yes! And I promise to spend a whole day gaming with you. We can play literally any game you want. Now, can we go? Pleaseeee?"

Sigh. "Alright."

This was the usual conversation between the two of you whenever you wanted to do something Kenma didn't necessarily enjoy. In other words, you’d bribe him with a full day of gaming together.

You knew he'd much rather stay in any day of the week instead of go out and engage in such uncomfortable, sweaty and outdoor (derogatory) activities. Anyone who even remotely knew him would know that. However, you genuinely thought that doing more physical activities together would be good for the both of you.

Hence your increasingly frequent pleas for him to join you in doing said activities.

The first time you asked him out on such a date, it was to go swimming together. He looked at you with a blank expression, but you could read his thoughts exactly. "Do you even like me? Do you even know me?" was what he seemed to be saying. With his eyes, at least.

To be honest, most of his reasons for not wanting to go swimming were pretty valid. Why would he wanna get soaked just to take another shower after that? Why would he go swimming when there are gonna be people around to witness him flap around in the water? And his hair is already bleached, so why would he want to ruin it further by going into a pool practically loaded with chlorine? Out of everything, chlorine had to be the bacteria killer? Why couldn't it have been something nicer, like chocolate or something?!

Fair enough, you thought. But by the time the two of you were out of the pool that day (you don't even remember if you just played in the water or if you actually swam laps together), the sun was literally shining down on him, yet his smile seemed brighter than the sun itself. You weren't sure exactly what about swimming had made him smile like that the first time, but since then, every time you suggested going swimming together, you'd remind him how much fun he had the last time and he'd be less opposed to the idea.

Even though he'd probably never admit it to you, he actually enjoyed going swimming with you that first time because of you. The way you laughed and the way you seemed so comfortable in the water honestly captivated him. Then he started to notice how the sun reflected off the water and onto your skin, casting a golden glow around you.

So damn pretty, he remembered thinking to himself.

Soon, you started going swimming at night - to not "die of UV rays", in his words - and the way the moonlight reflected off your skin was simply ethereal. He couldn't have used any other word to describe you in that state. You reminded him of a siren, and if real sirens were even half as beautiful as you, he’d understand why those pirates and sailors were so easily lured out to sea.

Even if you couldn't swim swim, you still looked so content in the water that slowly, he couldn't say no to going swimming with you anymore.

The next kind of activity you asked him to do together was to go to the beach. And of course, you were met with the usual resistance at first. The way his face lightened when you said "swimming" then pinched together when you said "at the beach" told you exactly what he was thinking.

Ew. Sand. Everywhere.

Honestly? Valid. Sand gets everywhere - and I mean everywhere. The sand gets scorching hot in the daytime so why would anyone wanna go there? To get sand up your ass? To burn your feet off?? Like, can't you just do that over the kitchen stove or something?

That was until you were spending the day together at the beach, building sandcastles and sunbathing and just hanging out by the water. You could never forget how relaxed he looked by the end of it.

Sure, there were tons of other people at the beach that day, but he completely forgot about that when he was with you. You just did that somehow - make him feel like it was just the two of you even in a crowded room.

"It's not that bad, right, Kenma?"

"Eh..."

It's "not that bad" only because of you but I'm not admitting that, is what he was thinking.

This process continued with several more activities - cycling, hiking, even going to the gym.

When you asked him to go cycling together, his face told you, "What makes you think I'd enjoy cycling when there isn't even water to help me cool off this time? And what if I lose balance and fall?"

When you asked him to go hiking together, his expression screamed, "There aren't even gonna be wheels this time, are you kidding me? My legs are gonna give out. You're gonna have to haul me back home by yourself and it's not gonna be my problem."

And when you asked to go to the gym together, he muttered, "Kuroo and Yamamoto are rubbing off on you."

Despite these complaints, Kenma always came home looking more refreshed than ever. Even though he still didn’t love those sports, he didn’t hate them either, thanks to you. But that wasn't the point.

To him, the point was just seeing you do what made you happy. And as much as he hated getting all sweaty and sore and tired, he absolutely loved watching you go about the activities you had planned. Sure, you were just as sweaty and sore and tired as he was, but he didn't care. He honestly just cared that you were happy, and he knew then that he would do anything just to make you smile like that for the rest of your lives.

As for non-physical activities, if you love doing things like going to the museum, painting, gardening, yoga or meditation, board games, photography, he'd definitely be less resistant even though he doesn't particularly love those activities, and of course he'd just enjoy spending that time with you. Honestly, he's just glad you didn't pick something physically draining this time.

One time, you dragged him away from his video game and out of his bedroom to go play in the rain together. When you told him you wanted to go out into the rain, he had half a mind to drag you back into the house and lock you in the bedroom with him. But he was also kinda curious as to what you could possibly find so exciting in the middle of a rainstorm, so he followed you outside with just his hoodie, sweatpants and house slippers.

As raindrops pelted against his skin and clothes, he looked up to see you standing in front of him with your arms held out to the side and your head tilted slightly upward.

It was cool and rainy night, and Kenma would typically be in the comfort of his bed or gaming chair, safely sheltered from the rain. Why the hell would you wanna go out in the rain when you have a perfectly good house to stay in? He thought earlier.

Now, he finally had an answer to that. Two, in fact.

One, it was beautiful. He's obviously seen rain before, but only from his window. He had never been in the rain like this before. He's been caught in the rain on the way home from school or practice, sure, but never deliberately in the rain.

Looking up, the night sky was splattered with stars, barely visible behind metallic grey storm clouds. Silvery droplets raced towards the ground and glistening specks of water started to collect on his lashes. Blinking them away, he could see you in front of him.

The second answer to his earlier question was simple. You.

Dressed in one of his old volleyball jerseys, home shorts and slippers, you still looked so goddamn beautiful to him. You were laughing wholeheartedly even as raindrops assaulted your skin from above. You were somehow glowing even with just the dim streetlights nearby. Turning towards him, you grabbed his hands and pulled him towards you, further out onto the empty street.

"Come on, babe, have some fun!" You yelled, making sure he could hear you through the downpour. He could feel the rainwater slowly soaking through the material of his hoodie and onto his skin. He watched as you started kicking your feet and jumping into puddles of water on the road, and soon, the two of you were in the middle of an all-out puddle war.

Sooner or later you'd both be out of breath, and you'd end up with your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist. As the two of you swayed slowly back and forth, everything seemed to be in slow motion. The falling of rain around you, the steady beating of your heart, your slow breaths and the quiet rumble of thunder nearby added to the overall ambience.

Thinking back, he wasn't sure if this experience was beautiful because of the rain or because of you. Probably the latter, he thought. Furthermore, if he had to describe this experience in one word, he'd say it was magical. Simply and absolutely magical, and all thanks to you.

That day, he also decided that going out into the rain with you was worth an extra shower, and eventually this became a habit for the two of you whenever it rained heavily at night. If you moved to an apartment, you'd stand on the balcony together and stay there while it rained. Sometimes you'd dance, sometimes you'd play around with the puddles of rainwater on the ground, and sometimes you'd just be in each other's arms talking about anything and everything.

Main point is, he’s in love with you and he would do anything for you - even if it means getting sweaty and tired. Though I don’t think he’d complain that much if you asked to play volleyball HAHAHA

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[bussyyeukie]

Call of the Sea

(poly!141x siren!reader)

The seas were not evil; not rough and dark as the stories made it to be. Water crashing in a white mess against creaking hulls, dragging helpless souls and flailing arms. People say it’s dangerous, ugly, to not go out there. You’ll rarely come back if you don’t respect the power of the waves lapping up against the ship. The tide pulls at your knees until you’re suddenly to your hips, then your chest, and the cold sting sinks into you until your lips are blue and your lungs burn as the current pulls you.

The sea was beautiful, it was home to many creatures. Life giving creatures. Its waters reflected light, shining golden, shining blue, green, pink, orange. It’s lull carrying you on the surface, floating gently until it gifts you back to the shore. Many made their living from the sea. Many lived their whole lives dependent on the kindness it gifted to them.

You didn’t have a choice, not that you minded. All you could see was the beauty of the ocean. Even the beauty in the death it would bring, completing the cycle and inviting room for new life to start. Your home was the sea, and you’d never known any different.

Born from the frothy foam of the white wash, the crash of the ocean waves. Your lullaby, the sun that dried the drops on your face a forbidden fruit, the feel of warm earth and the absence of the waters cradle holding you a forgotten longing.

Your sister's songs resting on the water's surface. Your own song is a mix of the melody.

You remember laying on the rocks, with the moon's light basking over your skin, shining opalescent, hair fanning out across the rock, ends dipping back into the calm water. You remember laughing with your sisters, giggles bursting from throats and silly stories passed around as silken hands ran through damp hair. Placing bands of metal and shells into the braids littering your locks.

You remembered the first time you heard of the dangers of some humans.

The ones who were stronger than you, the ones who weren’t as swayed by the haunting songs rolling off your tongues. The ones who hurt, the ones who killed. Caught you up in nets and spears, committing horrific acts, chopping tails and hair, drying scales and collecting tears. As a child, it made you wary of approaching the surface, opting out of games and laying low in the darkness of the oceans depths. The older you got, the less afraid you became, being assured that you and your sisters were safe, too far from shore or populated ports to cause panic. It was rare to hear of a killing recently as well. Every once in a while someone would go missing, but there were never sights of ships, or rogue sailors to blame.

The older you got, the stronger you got. Teeth sharper, your tail gaining a more distinct pattern, the shine glowing brighter under the moon, your sound growing smoother and less banshee like.

With that came confidence. You’d approach the surface with your sisters, breaching water, wrapping your arms around the railings of small fishing boats, round luminescent eyes shining in the moon, hair sticking to wet skin. Voice soft and rolled over like fog into the ears of the sailors.

You no longer feared humans. Almost foolishly.

Growing reckless in your approach to stray boats.

Not realizing that, at times, those dangerous humans were trickier than yourself.

Floating in the water, the dawn barely creeping up on the horizon, you watched the dark shadow of the hull sit on the surface. It wasn’t necessarily a large boat, in fact, the closer you got you realized it was fit for about five people at most. It had been a minute since you’d eaten, stomach  rolling as you thought of the previous two weeks, dinnerless. It wasn’t that bad though, you really didn’t need to eat as often as a human, but the lack of substantial food didn’t help.

Your hair swayed around you, pushing it from your line of sight, you pursed your lips as you watched the shadow rock. Really you should’ve thought it through a little more, called someone over with you. Better yet, went along, swam by, left it be. But you didn’t. You were hungry.

Snapping your tail, you approached the underside of the boat, nose almost touching the wood. The water is warmer up there compared to the depths beneath you. Tail tucked under you, the water wasn’t clear, nowhere near it, but you didn’t want to risk it over something stupid.

Face turned, licking your plump lips, ear pressing against the underside of the hull. 

You heard some shifting, and a rock of the boat, footsteps, then the thunk of someone sitting. They sounded heavy. You felt a grin tug at your lips, muffled voices filling your ears. Sounded like three. Three was easy.

Flicking your tail, you rose, peeking up out of the water till your eyes blinked away droplets. It was foggy out, so thick you could just barely see five feet away. Catching a glimpse of the bearded man sitting in the boat, his voice thick as he spoke to the others in the boat. They hadn’t noticed you yet.

“Beautiful as the warm breeze,” the man laughed, mockingly, “As if waking up to a pile ‘a gold on ya’ pillow!”

Your hair stuck to your face as you emerged more, chin dipping in the water, hair fanned out around you. The hair on your face framing it, lips wet and cheeks flushed. Eyelashes clumped with water. Skin shiny and an almost hollowed look to your undereyes. You grinned.

“I’m tellin’ ya, it’s nonsense, the fact that he has our asses out here in the cold anyway it’s–”

You had peeked out a bit more, neck visible, pearlish pattering on your jaw and neck glinting in certain lights. Catching the man's eye. He jerked violently to the side, grasping wildly behind him.

“Bloody hell!’

The boat rocked and you sank down, acting spooked as you hid to your eyes again. Wide and gazing up at the man. Glancing over to the other two men in the boat. Who looked to you as well, snapping to attention as they moved as far back on their seats as possible.

The water rippled.

“What the fuck,” the bearded man’s jaw was agape, brows knit close together. He was older than the other two. Hard to tell by how much, his face was well sea worn.

“Get it!” One of the other men shouted, his hands trembling as he jolted for something on the bottom of the boat. Your eyes widened as you ducked down more, tail flicking under the boat.

A quick hand grabbed the man who reached. The older man was still in shock, trying to push himself as far back as possible, brows knit tightly together.

You looked to the side, a younger boy was sitting there, lips chapped and cracked, tanned face and hat wedged on his head. Curled hair sticking out of it.

“Wait! Wait…” he turned to you, eyes wide, he was thin, very lean, and not very tall. 

The other man, who had thin hair, and a potbelly, looked at the boy in shock.

“Boy, let go of me–!”

“Hold on a second!” he snapped, looking from you to the pot-bellied man, “Look at ‘er…”

The three looked to you, you breached the water again, to your chin.

“Hello,” you whispered, voice silken and carried across the water and into the boat. You watched the three men’s shoulders drop, eyes wide as they watched you.

“Hello…” the young man licked his lips, swallowing roughly, “What are you doing? O-out here?”

The bearded man grunted, “What the bloody hell do you think she’s doin’ out here! She’s a mermaid!”

You giggled.

The three men looked at you. Boat creaking as it rocked.

“Mermaids?” you preened, moving closer slowly, till your hands creeped up the sides of the hull, gripping it as you crossed your arms, leaning on it, the men moving back as you moved forward, “How silly, to believe in fairytales like that? Isn’t it?”

The younger man laughed nervously, “Y-yeah, very silly.”

You tilted your head, wet hair sticking to the smooth skin of your back and shoulders.

Seemingly glowing under the light, dawn still far off as it creeped. 

“Y-you,” the pot-bellied man gulped, “You’re tricking us, I know it! You are!”

“I am? That wouldn’t be very nice of me,” you giggled, tail swishing and flicking under the dark ripples.

“He, cap’n told us remember, he told us it would do this,” the pot-bellied man said again.

The young man smacking him in the arm, “Watch your tongue! She has a name!”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that then?” the bearded man spat, leaning forward to frown, then jolting back when he realized he’d gotten so close to you.

The young man stuttered, then turned to you. Your smiled broadening, sweetly, a subtle hum starting at the back of your throat, matching the tune of the lapping of the waves brought to the side of the little fishing boat. 

If you’d thought about it a little more, or at all really. You would have left at the mention of a captain, the three men in a fishing boat in the middle of the ocean. It was strange.

But you didn’t.

The three men turned to you. 

The young one leaning forward a bit, getting to a knee in front of you, you grinned at him.

“Yes?”

“D-do, do you have one?” he gulped, hands twitchy on his thighs, “A name I mean?”

“Of course I do,” the subtle note still ringing through the air as you spoke, carrying through your words, “My name is Y/N, why wouldn’t I have a name?”

The men seemed lost, the bearded one having relaxed into his seat. The young one mere inches from your face.

He chuckled, “I, I don’t know.”

“What’s your name?” you reached out, tender and slow, water droplets rolling off skin onto the fabric of his pants, he closed his eyes, leaning into your hand as you pushed it forward. Your fingers twitched.

Your cold fingertips brushed his cheek before a large hand grabbed your wrist, and the boy was flung back, eliciting a violent thrash of your tail and a screech from you. Brows furrowing and lips curled.

“Get the net now!”

You went to pull your arm back, if fate had been on your side, you would have pulled him under. Tipped the boat. But, fate seemed to be holding something over your head at the moment. As the pot bellied man jumped to his feet and grabbed a bundle of netting. You thrashed, the large man with the beard fighting you, pulling you up and you flailing and hissing.

Your teeth sharp as you barred them at him. Nails clawed and you dug into the cords of his forearm, scarlet blood dripping between your fingers, running down the slope of your forearm till it pooled and dripped at your elbow.

“Throw it! Now! Get her tail!”

Whipping your tail, trying to tip the boat the best you could, the man almost expertly threw the netting, the young man still sat flat on his ass.

The bearded man grabbed a handful of your hair, as if trying to rip it from your scalp.

Snarling as he shouted, “The knife! Spear! Anything!”

The young man looked between the large man standing and you, your tail thrashing violently and your screams and slitted eyes. Net getting tangled up on itself, and unfortunately wrapping around yourself.

“No!” you howled, teeth gnashing, clenching your fist, tearing flesh from the man holding you. Your back arching as he ripped at your hair, squeezing his hand tightly, your wrist aching and popping.

“Don’t mess it up! Cap’n wants a pretty one remember,” the pot-bellied man said, rather snarkily.

“For what?” the boy on the floor asked.

“Knife boy, now!”

The bearded man had spit flying from his lips as he shouted, the boat rocking. Your tail cramping, and shrill screams escaping your throat. The young man jumping to his feet and the sound of clanking drew your attention, watching him sift through a pile of spears and knives at the bottom of the boat. A cold chill running up the back of your spine, wrapping around your jaw and up your face.

“Enough! Stop!’ you cried, the pot-bellied man trying to yank the netting up your tail, scraping off a few scales, which flicked out and smacked his side, causing him to slam to his ass in the boat, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

You tried to shake the netting from yourself, but the young boy popped back up with a spear, sharp and chipped at the end. The handle two feet as he held it up.

You screamed, piercing as he brought it down, sinking into the meat of your tail, above the joint. White pain searing through you and your stomach cramped. Lips pulled over your teeth, the bearded man barking something, and the young boy ripped the spear out, a pouring of dark blood streaming from the deep wound. Throbbing and scalding with pain.

The pot-bellied man grabbed the side of the boat as he spat curses at you more, getting himself to his feet, jerking the rest of the netting back up your tail. Up over your hips. The bearded man pried your hand away from his arm, spitting at you as his blood coated your hand. 

“Stupid bitch, you’ll be in for it soon enough…”

The pot-bellied man reached for his hip, pulling a horn looking instrument, and blew on it, a low, sharp sound escaping it. Causing you to wince, flinching your tail, which erupted in pain. The young man looked at you, and jabbed at your tail again with some knife by his side, slicing it again. A cry escaping your throat.

“Enough of that, we need ‘er in one piece aye?”

“Yeah, right” the boy looked at you, the bearded man pulling the netting over your head as he slammed you into the boat, your arms curling into your chest, and protecting your face, hair splayed out messily, tail curled in. The bearded man's feet by your head. 

He leaned down over you, “One wrong move, and I stomp that pretty face in.”

You hissed at him, blinking wildly, clenching your fists.

The man tisked, “All that bark for what?”

You bit your tongue, holding off the slurry of insults you were about to throw at him, the threats, the promises of his demise. But, you were the one in the net, on the floor of a boat, injured.

The pot bellied man blew the horn again, and sat down next to your tail, which was over the bench, and over the side of the boat, just barely dipping into the water. The cold of it was inviting compared to the cold of the fog that covered the morning.

Your chest rose fast with breaths, sounding almost labored as the dark blood sank into the indents of your scales on your tail.

The balding man clapped the young man on the back, “wow what a sight! Knew they were real, christ, thing sure is less scary than the stories.”

The young man didn’t tear his eyes away from you, eyes frantic like a caged dog.

“What do you do with them again?”

The man shrugged, “Up to the cap’n, whoever can name the best price. Think he was plannin’ to keep this one in one piece this time, sell it whole.”

He elbowed the boy and laughed, snorting as he did. The sound grated at you.

How could you let this happen, be so foolish, so reckless. Thoughtless!

You felt the boat rock more, snapping your head around to see what was coming. The creaking sound of a big ship soaking into your ears. The feel of a hand grabbing your hair registered too late, not being able to fight it off before the meaty hand raised your head and slammed it back down against the boat's hull. Pain swarming your vision.

“You best keep quiet,” the bearded face made its way into your vision, before he stood, almost directly over you, wrapping some cloth around his forearm, which was near mangled.

You frowned, closing your eyes and flicking the tip of your tail, the water rippling under it, feeling the cold against you. Looking down, the young man had his head in his hands, gripping the knife tightly, your blood dripping off of it and onto his shoes. Almost mesmerized. The pot-bellied man was looking off in the distance, a wicked grin on his face, hooking the horn back onto his belt. Catching a glimpse of the insignia burned into the side of it, it was something you hadn’t seen before.

The bearded man said something to the pot-bellied man, who glanced down at you, sneering. You didn’t listen. Instead, you shot your hand through the netting, grabbing a death grip on the bearded man's waistband, and slapped your tail harder than you ever had in your life. Pulling the man down with you.

“Hey-rotted–!”

Before anyone could balance, you had flipped the boat. Sending all four of you crashing into the dark waters. Bubbles and irritated water rising around you all. Still wrapped in the netting, and bleeding from your tail, you looked around. The young man was struggling to grasp a hold of the flipped boat, weapons sinking slowly into the dark under you. The pot-bellied man sank. Struggling and large bubbles of air rising out of him as he got lower and lower. A silent scream etched onto his face.

The bearded man made one swipe at you, but you pushed yourself out of the way, crying shrilly, and snapping away. Watching him grasp at the overturned boat as well, as you dashed down.

Darker into the depths, the salt water stinging, and your head ringing. You rasped, as you swam, not sparing a look behind you as you fought with the netting, and failing. Getting it tangled more with yourself. The cold of the water surrounding you more than it ever had. It felt almost…uncomfortable. Not as cradling as it had been, but almost heavy, it felt like you were swimming through dense seaweed.

Your breath rang loud in the stillness of the water, the netting falling from you finally, sinking down. Your body cramping, as you spared one look behind, seeing the trail of blood left in your wake. Too much, it was too much blood. Unknowingly swimming sluggish, and sinking down.

word count: 3018

[autisticabbey]

My DIY Sun (Galaxia) and Golden Sun puzzle piece long sleeve shirts, and my decorated Golden Sun vintage heels

[jam3sacaster]

I don’t believe in God, but I believe that you’re my saviour PT. 2

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / Unbeknownst to Rupert, you are in serious trouble…

Title derived from Sailor Song by Gigi Perez.

18+ FANFIC / Protective, soft Rupert, all the good stuff. Reader character aged at 21. Injury mentions. Featuring Bas! Read Part 1 here. Hope you enjoy! 🩷

Streams of canary yellow begonias & flamingo pink carnations lined the fading oak stables, the rising sun washing a peaceful glow over Penscombe Court. With knee-high leather riding boots protecting your feet, you pulled open the stable door and almost jumped out of your skin at the sight of an olive-skinned, dapper man, tinted shades hiding his eyes and wrapped tightly in a khaki gilet. “Good morning, babe. Didn’t frighten you, did I? Awfully sorry. Rupert said I could keep Bessie here.” Basil Baddingham beamed, blessing you with a glimpse of his dazzling pearly whites. Bessie was an Arabian horse — regal & imposing, with a striking chestnut colour and an ink black mane. “She’s so gorgeous.” You purr, running your hand over the top of Bessie’s head. “You can ride her if you want.” Bas winked towards you, surveying the apprehensive expression washed across your face. There was something so awfully compelling about Basil that meant you struggled to oppose him.

Less than twenty minutes later, you were bounding across the extensive fields of Penscombe Court, chilled wind rippling through your golden hair — exhilarated and elated. Bas rode alongside you, the smaller horse he was riding struggling to keep up with the rapid pace of Bessie. “Oh come on, Bas! Scared to race me?” You roared as you careered down the bank. Basil chuckled to himself as he patted his horse, urging it to catch up. Before it had chance, Bessie neighed thunderously, subsequently followed by a blood-curdling scream. “Hurry, boy, go!” Basil howled, patting his horse and steadying himself as they bolted down the embankment, and he jumped from the horse’s back before it had time to cease its speed. The scene that greeted him was one of inconceivable horror that he would never forget. You were sprawled across the ground, nose bloodied, arm bent in an anomalous manner & breathing shallow. “Dear God, Rupert is going to fucking kill me.” He groaned under his breath, darting over to you and kneeling at your side.

“God, babe. I’m so fucking sorry.” Basil panted, reaching out to stroke your muddied face but hesitatingly pulling away. Basil was right, Rupert was going to go ballistic, to say the least, but he had to be told. Pulling his bulky telephone from his gilet pocket, he prodded in Rupert’s number with trembling digits. It was ringing for a painstaking length of time, before Rupert answered, half-way through a chuckle. “Hello? Bas, what’s wrong?” Rupert answered, trying to make coherence from Basil’s distressed ramblings.

-

Dressed only in an unbuttoned, unironed white shirt, beige trousers and black wellington’s, Rupert hurtled from the majestic doors of Penscombe Court, thick mud flying from beneath his feet. He had never sprinted so fast in his life. Sprinting down the bank, he gasped — dumbfounded and horrified at your utterly mangled state. “Angel!” He almost whimpered, sinking into the mud beside you and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m so sorry, Rupert, I-“ Basil began, stood yards away with his hand clamped over his open mouth. The look in Rupert’s eyes was one of unbridled rage. Throwing himself to his feet, he stormed over to Basil, lifting him from the ground with fistfuls of his shirt. “What the fuck were you doing?” He spat, but Basil could only splutter and gasp in a stupor. “Taking her out riding, without asking me, when you knew I wanted to? And, worse so, not fucking looking after her!” Rupert continued to roar, fury bubbling through his veins like a steaming kettle reaching boiling point. Basil’s head was hung lowly in shame, unable to provide reasonable explanation. “I’m SORRY, Rupert. I didn’t know!” Was all he could muster. Before long, Rupert was unreservedly apoplectic, howling obstreperously to his Robin, his helicopter pilot — he needed him there immediately.

Comprehending the desperate urgency in Rupert’s voice, Robin complied — the silk black helicopter whirring above, wind projecting from the blades strongly enough to almost knock Basil onto his back.

-

Opening your eyes was difficult, lids heavy with sleep and your head spinning drowsily. After a few moments and through narrowed vision, you took a moment to survey the surrounding scene. Tucked firmly into bed, your typically flawless golden hair was tied behind you, matted and coated in dried blood. “Good morning, angel.” Rupert whispered, leaning over from his wooden seat at your bedside and kissed your lips gently. “Hello, my love.” You groaned groggily, eyes opening wider. Your hands had numerous cannulas and monitors plunged into them, but the room was secluded and clad in orange velvet. “Where on Earth am I?” You questioned, confused panic rising through your voice.

“You’re in the best place for you. Cost a pretty penny, but I can’t deny that you’re worth it.” Rupert joked, smiling in a gentle, solemn way that you had never seen before. “But why?” You interrogated again, winching sharply as you sat up. “Fucking Bas took you riding. Bessie must’ve got frightened, and bucked you off. Pretty nasty, utterly terrifying to watch. You handled it very elegantly though, I hear.” He informed you, reaching beside him and brandishing quite possibly the most adorable teddy bear you had ever seen, and an enormous box of chocolates. “Oh, I love him!” You beamed, your usual sunshine tone filtering back into your voice.

“Now don’t scare me like that again. We have many more years to drink and fuck away together, I can’t have you falling off horses constantly.” Rupert joked riskily, but was wholeheartedly relieved when you grinned back. “Oh, stop it, Rupert. I love you.” You mumbled, eyes closing and drifting softly back to sleep. “I love you too, angel.” He replied, gently kissing your soft forehead again.

[simp-ly-writes]

Chapter One: The Awakening

Can be read as a standalone: Personal Hell Series (pt.2)

Pairing: (Hazbin Hotel) Lucifer Morningstar x demon overlord!Reader

Summary: Surrounded by darkness- you rest waiting for a hand to pull out out of its depths. From your last breaths, much time has passed and perspectives have changed. Even if you were to return, would people even want you to?

Warnings: 4662 words, mentions of violence and mental health, possible gore and death.

A/N: Still getting into characterization of these characters, apologies if things appear slightly off for one reason or another :)

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

Hushed voices swirled around the darkness, you did not know if your eyes were open or closed within this space nor did you know if these sounds were from a distant memory or present- wherever that would be when you awakened… when you hopefully awakened. 

You could not panic in this space, you could not hear yourself breathe in the stale air. Its coolness flooded your lungs as a shock of your heart echoed with its beat when a hand appeared in front of you, gloved in white. You hovered your own above the outstretched palm, you could not understand a word they spoke as their fingers flickered in the depths. 

You placed your hand cautiously into their own, one finger at a time before the gloved hand latched on with a vicious grip. Their hand shook as your atmosphere started to rain golden coins in the shadows. You felt another hand being brought to your neck, forcing you to look upwards to the thousands of coins falling around you, clashing like swords against one another yet falling endlessly. They did not echo, only chime as the voice began to hum, their grip loosened as a coin was headed straight between your eyes- it was all you could focus on. 

You breathe heavily as you thrash out of their grip, they allow you to easily as their hands blend back into the black depths once more. You look back up now, the coin is only seconds away, growing in scale- encompassing every part of your mind as you try and leave. You are desperate for escape, you imagine yourself running in the void, you plead into the space before being overwhelmed with the sense of falling. 

Your eyes open up to the familiar red skies, you look around hopelessly for the golden circle about to seal your fate but only smog filled clouds drift-by peacefully. Looking around Hell once more has you crying out in happiness before being overcome with disbelief. How were you back? Why were you so happy to be back?- Blue skies were only so far away and yet the tearfilled eyes and fluttering ends to your smile could only mean one thing, whatever- whoever had allowed you a second chance had somehow known that above all else, you wished to be back here with the people you loved. 

But those thoughts were of secondary matter as you looked around the forested area, the area silent beside the trees drifting by in the growlingly harsh winds coming from the east. You struggle to stand, roots encompass your form as you wiggle out from underneath them. The wood groans from your struggle as you summon your claws forward, slicing through the material with ease. You lean against the tree’s trunk for support, your legs wobbling like a sailor returning home from the sea. 

Your neck cracks as you let out a yelp from the static pain, rushing to massage the muscle as you take your first steps forward. You shiver from the breeze, gripping your white military jacket closer to your form as you follow the sun forwards and out of the woods. Your eyes go wide when the first semblance of neon lights gleam brightly in your face- showcasing crude language as a scantily dressed demon shoves you aside and into the road with a laugh. A car swerves around your form as you curse out- matching the signs choice in language as said car drives itself into a building just down the road and a fire warms your backside.  

Various demons and creatures alike watch as you stumble through the cityscape and decide to take a moment in a nearby alleyway. Various rats greet you with their sharp yellow teeth before scurrying back off into the sewers below. You choke back the smell of utter shit wafting up through the drains as you process your surroundings. Time had definitely passed from when you first entered the void and you were clueless as to when you had ended up in. 

You hear as hundreds of footsteps walk past your position as you try and pick up on their conversations, “mickeys got a special at the club tonight- always a good show that rat is.” “Rozrid overdosed an hour back, that fucker took the last of my stash.” “some princess they are, little bitch has worse vocals than that guy I fucked yesterday. All that preaching and hopeful shite- someone ought to teach her a lesson.” 

Princess… The word echoes through your mind, tracing through every bit of your memory. PRINCESS! You shriek into the alleyway before rushing out and back onto the crowded streets. You feel each stain of dried blood on the sidewalks as you run towards what you hope to be downtown- you need to get into the inner circle. You needed to see if your work had paid off as that one passerby stated for yourself, you do not feel the tears drip down your cheeks as you throw each person aside in your path of havoc. A sign pointed towards a railway station as you dashed to the sounds of the steam engine screaming out. The train is about to leave as you leap onto the back cart door and fumble your way inside. 

The sole of your left boot is now completely missing as a leftover fork stabs into your skin. Various suits and gowns stare at you in disbelief. A few rise to a fight, thinking you to be a demon playing a dangerous game with their hearts as others join your tears in joy. You shake off their stare, picking up a knife before ushering it to enlarge. The spear now being tipped down an aggressive tophat's Adam's apple before you throw them out the window, their comedic scream echoing against the side of the tunnel before a splat of their corpse as the train runs over their corpse. A woman stands, her parasol being flaunted like a foil moves sharply to stab you, sidestepping it and crashing into a table, you rip the cloth from its surface, casting it in flames before throwing it to her skin that melts with agony. 

You continue walking forwards before looking over your shoulder to address the crowd, “will there be anyone else wanting to play with the Right-Hand?” Silence is their answer as you hum out in approval, unlocking the next door and entering the subsequent cart. You look into the various suites before finding an empty one at the end of the cart. The door slips open with a wave of your power before locking behind yourself. Leaning against the door, your heart pounds  heavily in your skull as an overpowering of new information brings on yet another headache. 

You wish nothing more to be back in the void now while staring into your appearance through the black mirror. Your reflection is only dim- perhaps the mirror is mocking your lack of looks currently as you run a hand through the top of your hair, cringing at the dried-blood clumps that stop your fingers from progressing any further. 

Turning back around you enter the small bathroom, turning the skin on as you pick through your locks before having to cut various lumps out that are not worth the pain. The towel you use to whip your face turns from white to brown as you summon a fire in your palm to eliminate the cloth's existence. You wash your fingernails clean and extend your claws outward, picking out the flesh clumps and bark from underneath, humming to yourself while sitting on the toilet seat. 

The train rocks sharply, making a harsh turn in a split moment as your face meets the corner of the sink and your right eye swells, almost closing. Cursing into the small bathroom, you strip yourself of your coat and clothing before soaking them in a freshly filled skin. You enter the bedroom space in the meanwhile, still humming a classic tune of your time while looking for supplies to fix your boots. The dresser houses the original room's occupants gear as you smirk at their taste in undergarments- how scandalous they appear in contemporary times it appears. 

 You stumble across a sewing kit just under the lacy garments as you throw your shoes off and get to work, a knock at the door startles your moment of peace as you curse out before snapping your fingers, the shadows of your usual magic flicker, as an ash like substance falls to the floor. You try a few more times as the door handle jiggles before a do not disturb sign now sings into place on the external door handle and you await for the sounds of the cleaning cart to carry past. 

Shaking your hand, your powers still need time to awake to full use and by the grumble of your stomach, they would not be healing anytime soon. You deeply missed the palace’s food in a time like this, fresh and otherworldly fruits summoned by the King just for you. Your favorite dish? Finely prepared by lunchtime with strict preparation orders, and what of dinner? Why- you always share that time in the gardens with the royal couple- chatting happily amongst one another. A bittersweet smile finds a home against your features as you continue connecting the leather back to the sole before putting the boot up to your face, admiring your handiwork and settling your foot back into its reassuring squeeze. 

Looking out the window as the sun kisses your features, you watch as thousands of buildings pass-you-by, blurring together with the speed. An announcement chimes through the stereo as you lean against the headboard, eyes closing to the gentle rocks of the cabin. “May I have your attention passengers, this train will be making all stops to the inner circle over the next two days. Tomorrow morning we will dismount for a refueling before continuing- have a pleasant afternoon passengers,” the announcer flashes before the line goes silent once more. 

Next to the radio sits a box with various coloured buttons on its surface. You pick up the strange object with curiosity, never had you seen such technology so openly available. The palace always believed in the traditional forms of accounting, books, records, and maps- how your heart ached to be inside your office one more, to complete your studies and report back to the court the morning after. You did not know if any of the servants or council members would remember you now nor if the royals even did. Shaking your head, too much time has passed- I would only be causing a disturbance to the new routines enforced, you think to yourself before snapping your clothes dry and pressing them against your form and snuggling underneath the covers. The weird box would have to await for another day. 

Your mission objective was to find the princess, see that you could retire that past-self, the one known to be dead- better dead. You shake in your sleep as you find yourself back to that announcement day. The joyous laughter erupting from the back of your throat at the feeling of the demon lord gasping for air, pushing up against your shadows as they tighten, the blood of the fallen soaking through every garment you wore as the sky rained arrows and spears alike. The silver glowing eerily a sea of blood encompassed the field. But just as your grip lessens, you feel that nauseous feeling overcoming your laughter, that blade cutting through your skin, slicing your core ever-so elegantly as you reeling in pain as you kick widely, mouth gasping, hands praying to the red skies you created. 

You hear as they laugh in your face before the world goes back. You are drifting through a dreamless state, your breaths echo evenly in the empty space before that white-gloved hand emerges once more, extending itself outwards to you. Learning back the hand only follows you with ease, floating just over your own, just asking to touch your own once more. You shake your head, pleading to awaken, hoping that the awakening you had earlier was not just the continuation of this nightmare on the other side…

--

You gasp yourself awake, the sweat dripping down your back as you throw off the covers. You feel from your feet all the way up to your head- you were still yourself. Looking up into the back mirror just in front of you, your face glows with newfound life as you gasp in surprise. Not a single cut, scrape, or bruise littered against your complexion. You shiver in confusion, reaching to grab your tailored coat from the nearby armchair.

Looking out the train window, the modernized outlines of a large city bustle on the horizon. You squint your eyes, trying to pick up on the sign just in the distance, in a fit of barely-visible text you make out the words, Welcome to the Pride Ring: Pentagram City 50 lives away. 

But just before you can jump up and celebrate to your adventures start, the radio by your bedside table crackles violently as the various nods fly off and post holes in the walls. Maroon waves flood from the speaker- only growing with sound as a shadow creeps out from between the emerging cracks as the device shatters into two and out pops what you could assume to be the radio demon himself. 

His yellow teeth make you cringe as they point nearest to your cheeks as he lends forward and takes in your appearance. The colour of their sharp points reminds you of those coins that plague your sleep as a red-leather hand extends its way towards your own. Without even moving he picks your hand, giving it a quick three shakes before dropping it swiftly and leaning against his cane. 

“Why hello, deer! Someone has decided to awaken from their… beauty sleep it seems,” the overlord teases as their voice crackles slightly at the end. You only roll your eyes as the air comes to a halt in the room as a screech can be heard as their nails dig into a nearby wall.

“Now you see- I am at a crossroads dear-General. On one hand I could return you to the King- maybe a bit roughed up- a good spar we could have here- just outstanding work you made of that couple earlier- BRAVO!” a series of cheers and claps emerge into the space that have you rolling your shoulders back and twisting your fingers, preparing for an attack. 

“But- I see that you are eager to draw blood, I do adore that quality of yours- just like old times no?- A scrape here, a scar there- all in good fun, but nevertheless where would the fun be in those few moments of thanks, a favour to be paid in future then I would be ushered back out?” He tisks while twirling his microphone, dispatching his nails from the wall as he passes up and down the small hallway, “I think I will go with the second decision- yes. You will join me to Hazbin Hotel-”

“And why in the every-living fuck would I do that radio-tower?” you question back, summoning a small portal behind yourself to gather a specialmade weapon, it cries for blood in its long rest as you hold it back in wait- watching as the deer-man’s head cracks at a ninety-degree angle. Eyes swirling with malice before cocking his head back with uproarious laughter,  small music notes appear like pollen in the air around his head- swirling like a hurricane before he gathers himself once more, bending forward to stare deeply into your eyes. 

“You would because you wish to see the Princess of Hell- do you not? I heard your sleep filled murmurs through the wire- you have nothing to hide~” he sings songs before extending his hand once more as a portal opens behind himself, a grand foyer stills in the background as smaller figures look through from the otherside curiously. 

Your eyes flash before and behind him as you debate your options, to stab or not to stab? “What is in it for you, Alastor?” you question, raising a brow alongside your blade- purposely not cutting into his skin yet applying enough pressure to feel as he glumps from underneath the angelic blade. 

“What is not in it for me- deer? I get to watch the father of hell himself one day realise you had returned and in doing so, decided to stay with me instead of reporting back to him for whatever little reasons your mind comes up with,” he adds with an erie-cherrie tone that has you cringing up your spine before motioning him through the portal with a tilt of your blade. His hands go up as an even wider smile coats his features, he turns around- coat tails flapping with the actions as he allows you to enter first, closing the doorway behind you both. 

--

You look around the Hazbin Hotel with great interest before a dull ring echoes in your head, you feel yourself falling backwards and against a sofa. The blush yet stained fabric groans over your collapse as you lean forward, clasping your head in your hands- a silent scream escapes between your lips as you become trapped in a distant memory, locked in earlier times. 

Queen Lilith stood beside you as she walked alongside your dedicated steps, you were monitoring the perimeter of the palace walls as she got you caught up on the various court meetings you missed that afternoon and the new idea she had, “There must be another way, Lucifer believes otherwise yet the killings- they cannot go on forever as they are merely a plaster to a larger crack in the system of death. There must be some way to get those who have fallen off the beaten path back on track- returned to heaven's pearly gates…” 

The Queen continues to describe her idea to you as your attention becomes divided, half-listening to her latest idea while also looking into the surrounding forest for a potential attack that you scouted while in town earlier. A group of thugs at the tavern were plotting to overthrow the couple- you would not allow that to happen of course. 

A few finger emergence in the blink of an eye as Lilith goes through shock- so lost in your soothing presence and her ideas that she stumbles back as you shove her aside, summoning your armour as you jump upwards- casting your sword through their bodies in a line before dropping to your knees in front of the King who had just arrived. You slam your helmet off, awaiting for the next orders, only squeaking your eyes open to watch as Lilith slaughters the rest with a mere click of her fingers. 

“Now back to where we were, what do you think of it dearest friend? Do you believe it to be possible- probable even?” Lilith asks while cleaning her nails as Lucifer checks his wife over from the attack. You rest against the ground still, holding your helmet between your hands, “Possible is never the question- my Queen. You are only the most powerful beings in Hell- there is little not possible yet probable is at a minimum. Heaven is dead ears to any semblance of change…” you scoff while rolling your shoulders back, “...trust me in saying that- they will never listen- not even to the truth, as I am sure you both already know.” 

A silence overtakes the woods as the smell of rotting corpses as you try your best to keep dinner town. The King raises his hand, motioning you to stand yet just as you begin, he takes your hand in his own- helping you up the rest of the way before offering an arm to his Queen as you follow in their shadows. 

--

When you emerge back in the hotel, you are still at the dozen or so pairs of eyes staring at you- analyzing your every move. You feel a static presence behind your neck, your hairs raise- it could only be Alastor. “Now, esteemed guests of the hotel and royalty alike,” your breath hitches as you look over each person of the crowd- eyes going wide when red eyes and golden hair grace your vision. “May we please extend our warmest welcomes to the oldest soul in the room, the confidant, historian and general of the seven rings of hell.” 

“Alastor,” You growl out with utmost annoyance, watching as horror takes over the supposed Princesses face before you even got to make a personal introduction. You soon realise your position as eons of service create your actions as you fall onto your knees before the royal, offering your hands as you state, “It is with great honour I get to be in your presence, Princess of Hell. It fills me with utmost pride and sincerity when stating that the sacrifices I have made have amounted to your life- my only plea would be to have met you sooner. Seen you grow by your parents' side but know that I am now your blade, an extension of mind and keeper of souls for as long as you see fit.” 

Charlie stands before you in shock, looking to Vaggie for assistance who’s sole attention is staring at the blade on your back- wondering if this was really you or someone imposing to attack. Angel Dust stands to the side, leaning against the bar while whispering over to Husk, “So… who is this person?” their hands wave over to your general direction as they sip down the rest of their glass. Husk rolls his shoulders and shakes his head, “Are you deaf- or just plain stupid? Did you not hear Alastor's speech?- they are practically the Right-Hand to all of Hell and should be dead.”

“Dead?” the spider questions back, “they sure look alive to me- more than alive, think they would fuck me?” Husk chokes on his drink and does not even bother to answer the question, only watching as Angel Dust walks his way over to stand beside Charlie and takes a closer look.

Charlie appears to snap back to reality, her cheerie personality falling instantly as she takes a deep breath, “If you are really who you say you are- prove it to me and then we can talk more.” You only nod once, starting to prepare yourself for a summon as Vaggie snaps her eyes away, looking towards her girlfriend with concern, “Everything alright?- I’ve never seen you like this before, is there something I should know? What did they do to you?” 

“More like all the things I wouldn’t care if they did to me,” Angel Dust comments as Vaggie flips him a quick finger in return. “You will find out just as I do,” Charlie states in a cold tone, she could not believe the person who helped to create everything she made this hotel to combat against, made her parents split, and the person she ever-so desperately wanted a chance to meet as a child- studying their craft, could quite possibly be before herself. 

You stand as everyone besides Alastor takes a step back, the Radio Demon leans forward with utmost intrigue pursuing his actions as you float slightly off the ground. You take the finest sliver of your blessing from the royal couple, a golden strand weaving its way around your fingers like a snake in grass that makes your shadows cower away. You toy with the snake, keeping careful track of its power while trying not to ring the bell on its collar, alerting the owner. 

When you fall back to the floor, your shadowed face returns to your face as you breathe heavily from the amount of control you had to bring forth. “Does my father know you are here?” Charlie questions with a tilt to her head.

“No, Princess. And I would like to try and keep it that way. I understand the damage I left from my untimely… passing. I do not wish to stir the pot more if I were to announce my return- shaking the foundations so to speak,” you reply with your head bowed, a silent golden tear falls down your cheek that you don’t bother to notice for it was the aftermath of using such magic. 

“How are you still alive?” Vaggie questions straight away afterwards while doing her best to stare into your eyes. “I have few theories but I have yet to find truth in any of them,” you state, falling back onto your court speech as you become bombarded with questions circling around you. 

“Do you want to fuck after this?” Angel Dust questions as you glare deeply at them, “I do not have time to waste on such matters.” You can hear a crackle in the air, Alastor appears to be covering up an actual laugh. 

“How did you get that blade?” Husk questions while cleaning the bartop, you twist your head over to the voices direction, “It was a birthday gift from the Queen.” You watch as his hand stops its circling with the rag, head slowly tilting upwards as furrowed eyebrows question your statement, “I assure you, before my death we were all in each others good graces- more so even…” you trail off with a twinge of a smile that has Charlies heart breaking for a third time that day. 

Your head snaps back over as Charlie clears her throat, your attention now solemnly on her. “Why would you create an extermination day if you were so against violence?” This question catches you off-guard. Your job came with violence as it did brains and empathy- how would she have known beyond the personality you created to the public… NO- no, no, no they could not have. 

“I read your journals, your books, listened to my fathers countless stories- you were a breathing legend- a myth of high regard and yet when my father read your eulogy at the royal funeral. He announced to everyone of your kindness often forgotten and all the little things in life that everyone takes for granted now. Yet YOU hid it, my FATHER hid it alongside my MOTHER! Your vile creation- why?” The Princess comes clean as Vaggie stills beside her, Charlie falls into her arms as she hiccups with tears. 

You hand twitches, wanting to bring Charlie into a hug, to listen to her worries, her ideas and history just as you did for her mother. “I am sorry,” you start off my saying, “And that will never be enough- I never expect it to be. I spoke out to Heaven, I followed your mother’s wishes- you may not know this Princess but you echo her past beyond measure. I watched as your fathers power flickered underneath their spears at God's hand and against the destruction of many. I take the blame for the creation of the extermination day. I pleaded at the Gates before falling back to Hell. It was the best choice we hand for a future for someone like you to rise again”

Charlie nods once before turning around and walking towards her room with Vaggie for support. Angel Dust lets out a low whistle before murmuring something about needing another drink, a few shots were already prepared at the bar- courtesy of Husk. Alastor comes around the couch and stands in front of you, “Now that was a wonderful display! The drama, the passion, the SPECTACLE! Oh, what a show, deer. Now I think it is time for some rest, there is an open room right beside my own if you need anything at all- I am your new first call after all,” the demon overlord says with excitement, clapping his hands together before opening a portal to one of the upper floors.

To be continued.

╰┈➤ A/N: hope you all enjoyed reading this next part! Thank you all so much for support on the prologue!!

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

↳ Taglist: @jtcat305 @tati-the-fangirl @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08

[amazingmsme]

Fish Out of Water

AN: after a fun festive weekend I’m back on the grind baby! I’d been looking forward to writing a fic like this ever since I saw some siren!Odysseus art with Penelope a few months ago & knew I just had to write something! Here’s day 25’s fic!

Being chased by Poseidon was perhaps the greatest thing to happen to Odysseus, because it lead him straight to the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Penelope.

Sure the tides had receded, and he was trapped in a shallow pool, and there wasn't much to eat, but it was worth it for every minute he got to spend with her.

She sat on a rock by the edge, dipping her feet in the cool water as they talked. He leaned against the same rock, halfway out of the water. He propped his head up in one hand, staring at her with a completely lovestruck gaze.

"Your scales are beautiful in this light," she said in awe, watching as the rays of sun bounced off his golden orange scales, blotted with patches of red.

Odysseus hummed in agreement, "Yes you are- I-I mean!" he stuttered to correct himself, cheeks flushing when she giggled. "Yeah, the light really makes the colors pop," he continued, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

"You know... I've always wondered what your tail feels like. I mean, it's probably the first thing that came to mind," she admitted, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. He immediately perked up, embarrassment forgotten at the prospect.

"Well why didn't you just say so? Curiosity is only natural," he purred, tossing a wink her way. She laughed again, and his heart fluttered. How did he get so lucky?

"My apologies for trying to be polite," she teased right back. She held out her hand, hovering over his tail. "May I?" she asked, waiting for a nod of approval before touching down.

His scales were incredibly smooth, and softer than she was expecting. Even when she rubbed against the scales, they didn't scratch or snag on her skin. There was a slickness to it, like when you touched algae, but not quite.

"You're very smooth," she complimented. His lips quirked up into a proud smirk.

"Thanks. I think the freshwater's been good for my skin. I never really noticed how much the salt dries you out until now," he noted, studying his own scales with the same fascination she was.

"Really? Fascinating?" she continued to pet the smooth scales, enjoying the gentle bump of each scale beneath her nails. It made a soft, satisfying clacking sound that she hummed along to. Odysseus smiled wider, trying not to twitch underneath her touch. He wanted to impress her, not humiliate himself. He bit his lip to dampen his smile, giggles already building up inside his chest. He was grateful that she seemed too busy to notice.

Penelope was completely enthralled. She traced the unique, blotchy patterns, adding just a bit more pressure. His tail was all muscle, and a complete marvel of nature. (Okay, so maybe she just wanted to feel how strong he was, is that such a crime?)

Odysseus sucked in a breath when she pressed against his tail; a sudden electric feeling shot through his body and he bit back a smile. The water splashed when his tail slapped the surface as she struck a particularly sensitive spot. She drew her hand back immediately, worry etching her features.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you!" she was quick to apologize, but Odysseus was just as quick to put her at ease.

"You didn't! It just tickled a little and it caught me off guard," he explain. Her concern faded away to curiosity, a smirk playing at her lips with mischief alight in her eyes.

"It did? I had no idea sirens were ticklish," she purred, scooting closer. Odysseus chuckled nervously and leaned away, but other than that, he made no move to escape.

"Sailors don't like to spread those rumors. They want us to be scary," he joked, barring his teeth and claws to appear more intimidating. If Penelope didn't know him, it probably would've worked.

But she just found out he was ticklish and when he flashed his sharp teeth, all she could think about was a wide, carefree smile. She wondered what his laughter would sound like.

Time to find out.

"And it would be such a shame if the truth came out, wouldn't it?" she asked as she lunged for his tail. He yelped when she began kneading up and down the dense muscles, and he fell back against the rock as honest to the Gods giggles escaped his lips.

Penehehelopehehehe, wahahait!" he cried out, slapping his tail around to try and squirm away. It was no use, and her hands continued to explore his tail.

"What am I waiting for exactly?" she teased, scratching her nails against his scales to create a satisfyingly rhythmic clacking sound, but it could barely be heard over the force of his laughter. His voice head loud and higher pitched than she expected, more like hysterical giggling than anything else. It deepened to carefree belly laughs when she went back to kneading the muscle, managing to draw out a snort.

"I-I dohohon't knohohow!" he admitted, not trying very hard to make her stop. He flopped around on the rock like, well, like a fish out of water. It was cute, a little bit funny, and incredibly endearing.

"Well then, I guess I should just keep going," she cooed, scribbling closer to his flukes. His voice jumped an octave and he tucked his tail close, trying to turn away from her on the rock. She laid across his lap to reach his fins, scribbling and tracing along the thin skin.

"Noooo," he whined playfully, squirming beneath her. He was having the time of his life giggling at the hands of the sweetest, most beautiful woman he's ever met. She was actually touching him, without an ounce of fear or hesitation! She explored this silly weakness they share, eagerly drawing out giggly shrieks and snorts as she lovingly taunted him.

"I think it's pronounced yes," she corrected, snickering to herself as she traced the edges of his fin, softly rubbing them between her thumb and forefinger.

He arched his back and squealed, followed by boisterous laughter as he finally gave up the fight and flopped back down on the rock, completely at her mercy. His smile was so wide, it nearly split his face in two, as he did nothing but laugh. He had every opportunity to escape; hell, all he had to do was roll back in the water, maybe even drag her down with him as payback.

But he didn't want that.

What he really wanted was to laugh the day away in Penelope's arms. Luckily for him, she wanted the same thing.

[inoreuct]

been thinking about asura zoro lately.

possibly a prince sanji au where sora’s kicked her shitstain of an ex-husband out of the kingdom and his siblings are going through behavioural therapy,,,

at any rate, sanji’s wandering across the grounds one afternoon and he sees someone sitting beneath his favourite apple tree in the middle of the field. he thinks it’s yonji at first, but no— the hair’s too short and the wrong shade of green. less neon than his brother’s electric lime and more like… moss.

the man has one leg propped up with his arm resting on his knee, an apple clutched loosely in his hand. he turns as the grass rustles with sanji’s steps and sanji notes the vertical scar over his left eye that cuts through his brow and down his cheek. “you’re in my spot.”

“hm,” the man says, completely unbothered. he lifts the apple to take a bite and his open robe shifts with the wind, the hilts of the three swords tucked into his sash knocking gently against each other.

sanji narrows his eyes. “move.”

a slow, lazy grin. “no.”

“you—!” the prince is just about ready to boot this guy in the ass. “you do realise who i am, don’t you?”

“no,” the man repeats, shrugging a shoulder and peering down at his apple before taking another bite.

that gives sanji pause. everybody knows who he is. it’s inescapable— queen sora’s kindest son, with the golden hair and a heart to match. ocean eyes and the hands of a chef and legs steadier than any sailor’s. he has a duty to fulfil and an image to uphold, and it’s—

well. it’s just that sometimes, he thinks that he wasn’t made for this life at all— that he was meant to be out there, on the ocean, skipping over the waves with the wind in his hair and the sun on his brow, feeling the grit of sand between his teeth. he has satisfied himself with the comforts of royal life, with the orchards and the kitchens, but something pulls at him still. it tugs his heart towards the coast and whispers for him to shed the courtly graces he wears as tangibly as the cloak over his shoulders.

sanji is quiet as he reaches up, swallowing over the soft click of the clasp before red velvet falls into his hand. he drops it to the grass and lets it pool, puts one palm on the ground before settling against worn, rough bark and letting the pattern press into the skin of his spine.

“it’s peaceful here.” the man’s voice is low, slipping beneath the soft sigh of wind. “quiet.”

“it hadn’t always been,” sanji says, before he can stop himself. he has no reason to be doing this— to be saying anything at all, much less sitting down. he should be yelling for the guards and then taking this guy out himself. he’s a stranger who’d somehow made it onto royal grounds, through the extensive defences they had; one with three swords and scars, sanji reminds himself as he eyes the gnarly line of pearly tissue running diagonally down the man’s chest. he’s, by all definitions, a threat.

and yet, sanji hasn’t felt anything at all. no hostility, no fear— just… stillness, if he had to put a word to it. a sort of calm.

“the king… he was cruel,” he continues softly. “he treated my siblings and i like lab rats to be used. my mother was nothing more than a pretty thing to fill a space beside him. this palace, this kingdom used to be filled with war and pain and noise.” sanji chances a glance up to find the man already looking at him, and he quickly looks away. “sometimes, he’d come back from war stinking of blood and death. even worse was when he’d bring my siblings with him. he forced them to fight, see— didn’t even give them a choice, because of his experiments.”

the words are bitter as he spits them out, and sanji feels his hair bunch when he tilts his head back against the tree and blows out a breath. “i was always the failure.” the grass is damp with dew as he rubs a few blades between his fingers. “the weak one. the useless one. and i was the one who dragged him outside the city gates and told him that if i ever saw him again i’d take his head.”

he’s no longer as angry about it, he thinks. sanji has spent enough of his life being angry. the thought just carries a muted tone now, satisfied and a little victorious but also resigned— sometimes he looks at fathers in the squares and the markets, carrying their children on their shoulders and indulging them in the smallest of things, overpriced candy and tag on the dusty cobblestones, and his eyes burn. he should have had that. he never did, and he never will.

sanji lets his eyebrows flash up, swallowing against the tightness in his chest. “i don’t know why i’m telling you all this, anyway,” he says with a light, forced laugh. “i don’t even know who the hell you are.”

“nobody important,” the man hums. “not yet. but one day i’ll be the greatest swordsman in the world.”

the prince believes it. he feels something now, at least— a presence of sorts, like pressure from all sides, present but not pushing. just there. “i think… i want to get out of here.”

again, he doesn’t know why he says it. he has the urge to slap a hand over his mouth as soon as he does, in fact. because everything’s fine now, everything’s finally going well; judge is gone, his siblings are safe, his mother is safe, and he should be happy. he is happy. he gets to cook all he wants and he’s—

he’s not. he’s not happy. he wants to go, wants to— to grab a boat and disappear, sail to the edge of the horizon and then beyond. it aches in his chest like someone’s squeezing his heart, fingertips digging into tough muscle, and he rubs the heel of his hand through the fine weave of his shirt.

the man bites into his apple again, and the crisp crunch cuts through the still air. sanji lets his eyes slip shut.

“where do you want to go?” the man asks.

sanji laughs, a soundless exhale. “the all blue. it’s an ocean with every kind of fish you could imagine and then some. i want to open a restaurant. a place of my own where nobody will ever go hungry.”

a pause, and then the man turns to look at him. “do you know why i’m here?”

“no.” sanji cracks an eye open, sighing impatiently. “why?”

“the change. all this place has known for years was turmoil and war and chaos. and then suddenly… it all went silent.” he eyes sanji unreadably. “somebody took notice.”

somebody, huh? if sanji’s dealing with a religious nutcase, he might just burst into laughter. or knock this guy out. maybe both. “you believe in god, then?”

“no,” the man says flatly. “and even if one did exist, they didn’t help you then. they won’t help you now.”

the blonds’s eyes narrow as he sits up straight and slowly raises an eyebrow. “if that’s supposed to be a threat, mosshead, i’m not scared of you.”

“mosshead?!” the other splutters, the first sign of real human emotion sanji’s seen on him, and sanji laughs.

“it fits!”

“it’s—”

“blasphemous? disrespectful?” sanji teases, somehow more at ease than he’s felt in ages. he doesn’t know who this man is, and who he is doesn’t matter— he’s free to run his mouth, and he damn well will.

“you should be scared of me, you know,” the man says, voice gritty, and sanji smirks.

“why so?”

and— oh.

that presence from before increases exponentially, until he feels sweat bead beneath his collar. dirt gathers beneath his fingernails as he scrabbles backwards, instinctive, throat bobbing as he counts three, four, six arms, and three heads, and three grey eyes glinting like watered steel. wind whips through the clearing, shaking the branches of the tree— sanji reminds himself to close his mouth as he sits beneath the rustling, as black tendrils of shadow snake through the air, swelling around the man’s silhouette, silky and molten. it’s not just that overwhelming, omnipresent aura; he’s got to be two heads taller than a normal man at least.

sanji’s breath is stuck in his throat. and then he looks down; that half-eaten apple is still there, shiny and red. the man’s swords — nine of them, now — clatter gently by his hips, and his earrings jingle with something that almost sounds like gentle laughter, and his hair is still impossibly green.

“…is this supposed to be intimidating?” he offers, climbing to his feet with a bored cock of his hip. “i mean, it’s impressive and all, mossy, don’t get me wrong, but—”

the man’s form snaps back to normal in an instant, leaving him with an almost comical look of disbelief on his face. “you’re fuckin’ crazy.”

“i’m traumatised,” sanji corrects, cackling. “after my bastard of a sperm donor, i doubt i could be scared of much else. besides, you haven’t done anything but talk to me. that’s a lot more kindness than most people can say they’ve shown.”

he watches the emotions flash across the man’s face like a play-by-play until his strong features finally settle on something not dissimilar to determination. “we’re going.”

“huh?” the sudden subject change throws him. “where?”

“the all blue,” is the impatient answer as the stranger crosses his arms. “didn’t you say you wanted to go?”

“yes, but—” sanji makes a series of exasperated noises as he tries to find his words. “i can’t just— go! i have responsibilities, i need to—”

“you need to be free,” the man grunts, and sanji stops short. “can’t keep a bird caged and expect it to be happy.”

the prince bites his lip, heart pounding. this is crazy. this is insane, it’s how kidnappings happen, he shouldn’t even he considering this. “…if, even if we were to go— how would we get there? how would we even find it?”

“we’ll figure it out?” the man pins him with a look that says duh, like it’s no big deal. “i know a witch who’s a navigator, she owes me a favour. and a guy who works in a shipyard. it’ll work.” he looks like he’s about to start tapping his foot, but then his expression softens. “one day,” he says, eyes skating across sanji’s face. “we go for one day, sunrise to sundown, and if you don’t like it i’ll bring you right back.”

sanji’s chest aches. his breath trembles against his teeth. “why?”

his stranger swallows, gaze tilting down as his fingers drift to the hilt of the white sword by his side, like it’s a comfort. “you aren’t scared of me.” his eye is a flash of silver as he looks up again, bottled starlight and iron. “maybe that’s more kindness than i’m usually shown, too.”

maybe sanji’s losing his mind. maybe he’d lost it a long time ago. because he finds himself nodding slowly and breathing, “okay.”

a sharp, sure nod. “we leave tomorrow. settle your affairs and meet me down by the beach at dawn.”

“alright.”

sanji watches the man turn and amble away, in no apparent, rush, before a thought strikes him. “wait!”

green hair shifts in the sunlight as he twists back around, one scarred palm by his ear. “hah?”

“what’s your name?” sanji yells across the clearing, and the smile that’s sent his way is blinding.

“meet me and i’ll tell you, curls!” the man yells back, and then he’s gone. just— disappears, like he’d been a figment of imagination.

an apple core tips against sanji’s ankle, pale and clean.

(sora takes one look at his face when he asks and lets him go.

“you’d always been restless,” she tells him gently, as she helps him pack his things into a burlap satchel and sets his spice tins carefully into their case. she says he’d been loud even as a baby, wailing right out of the womb with eyes the blue of cornflowers and summer skies and the water, riotous and gentle and vast like his heart.

she sends him off with a kiss to his forehead, hands cupping his face as she smiles against his skin, and this time sanji welcomes the burn in his eyes.

he finds zoro by the beach like something out of a fairytale, skin bronzed in the light of a new day, glowing with the orange dancing off the waves. he has a boat waiting, barely big enough for two, wrist draped over his sword hilts as he yawns and scratches at his head, and sanji grins so hard his face hurts.

his palms on the lip of sealed wood have his heart pounding hard enough to feel it against his ribs, his shoes sinking into the sand as they push the dinghy out to sea and jump on, and he shoves his hand in the water just because he can.

“zoro,” the man says abruptly, two extra shadows framing him in the sunrise like a mirage, and sanji’s lips curl up at the edge. “that’s my name.”

“okay, mossy,” he sing-songs, and bites down a laughing scream when zoro rocks the boat so hard he nearly falls out.

he does tell zoro his name, when he decides that he’ll stay. they’re still on their little boat; it’s sunset now, and the green-haired man is taking up all the space in his other form, stretched out with his hands folded behind his head. “i’m sanji, by the way,” he offers, offhand, and watches zoro crack an eye open to grunt in acknowledgment.

he pretends not to see the soft smile that the other man flips over to hide. zoro hardly ends up using it anyway, the brute.

sanji really doesn’t mind.)