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snipersfucker · 10 months

Note

As someone new to transformer fics, I'd love a fic where Mirage and the reader learn what the others name for body parts are (hand/servo, etc.) And obviously Mirage uses it as an opportunity to put the moves on the reader.

yall are so creative with these i legit opened my mouth when i read that...... such a good idea omg lets go (im so deep in that shit i legit remember most robot names for these body parts without having to look em up lmao)

"That's a chassis."

You let out a sigh as Mirage pointed at another part of his metal body. You knew you wouldn't be able to remember all these ridiculously strange names, but still wanted to be a good student, especially because you asked him to teach you.

"Mine's a bit bigger than the ones your little boys have."

And there it was. His constant bragging, showing-off, comments that indicated he was damn aware he was better than humans.

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, not having to look up that much because he was sitting on his... aft. Or something.

"Helm, face plate, optics, pedes, tank..." He kept pointing at random body parts of his, naming them as fast as he could just to get to the most interesting ones he could use to finally rizz you up.

"'m surprised you don't have a diploma for being the best teacher ever, Mirage," you muttered under your breath shamelessly, sarcasm dripping from your tongue as you stood there with your arms crossed on your chest.

He liked the way you said his name, even if it wasn't in a particularly nice tone.

"No speaking unless you're being spoken to, miss," he reprimanded you like a strict teacher would, using his best Optimus Prime voice. Then, before you could talk back, he extended his left arm, putting it right in front of your face. He made a fist but allowed his middle finger to stay up, "What's this called?" he asked you, even though you haven't gone through this particular body part yet.

"Flipping someone off, sir," you answered in an overly eager, sweet tone, as if you were trying to sound like the teacher's pet.

You calling him sir made his spark skip a beat or two.

"Wrong." He lowered his hand and placed it on his metal thigh with a soft clang. He shook his helm in fake disappointment, letting out a long sigh. "It's a digit. And what do we do with digits?" he continued in a teacher's voice, making a specific motion with his servo to encourage you to answer his question, even though he automatically did so in his mind.

We put them inside disobedient girls.

"We flip people off, sir," you responded in a fake innocent, childish tone, straightening your back and smiling widely as if waiting for praise for giving him a good answer. It made you cringe internally but you also thought it was funny so the choice whether to continue talking like that or just leave was easy to make.

He snorted at your words, shaking his head in amusement once more as he brought his servo to your body and flicked your arm gently with his two digits.

"That's what we do with 'em."

"Oh, fuck off." You smacked his servo before he could pull it away from you. Even though you could barely feel the flick of his robot fingers, you still massaged your arm, hoping it'd make him feel at least a little bit bad, and he'd stop bullying you.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" He raised his optical ridge at your words, not being able to fight back a teasing smirk forming on his lips.

You could kiss me with that mouth.

As soon as the thought appeared in his mind, he immediately got rid of it, not letting it distract him.

"Tibulen, cadulen..." he began naming other body parts, and there was no way in hell you'd be able to remember those. "Glossa..." He stuck his metal tongue out, pointing at it lazily with his index digit.

A question popped up in your head, "You got saliva?"

For the first time, you were actually curious about something, expecting an actual, truthful response, but instead you got what Mirage was best at. Sarcasm.

"Oh, yeah, our saliva's made out of corrosive acid actually. Cool stuff." He shrugged nonchalantly as if what he just said was nothing. "Want me to spit on you so you can get the drill?" he asked overly casually, already slightly leaning in your direction.

He was having so much fun...

You grimaced at his question, even though you knew he was most likely joking. Most likely.

"Pass," you murmured under your breath.

"...But there are other ways you could... feel it."

His time to shine has come which he was very much aware of.

His unnecessarily mysterious tone made you snort quietly, an eyebrow involuntarily raised as you asked him with amusement dancing on your tongue, "Care to share?"

He tilted his head with a very, very sly smirk on his lips, which partly gave you an answer to your question. The realisation almost made your face drop but you contained yourself, and just rolled your eyes at his silent offer, pretending not to notice the heat spreading across your own cheeks.

"No."

"I didn't say anything," he responded in an amused, innocent tone, raising his servos in a defensive gesture.

"Yeah, but your eyes said a lot," you argued, the sudden shift in your confidence making you unable to find the situation as funny as before.

He made an unbelievable amount of butterflies awaken and fly around in your stomach, and as pleasant as it felt, you couldn't show him that.

"Optics," he corrected you immediately, playful superiority in his tone coming back just in time to crush you once more. He leaned in, making the gap between your faces a lot smaller than before. "And I'm pretty sure you're just imaginin' things," he added teasingly, the smirk almost challenging you.

His plan was working.

"Am I?" You tilted your head slightly to the left, your gaze never leaving his blue optics.

The intensity of your eye contact made him back off just a bit, before he shook his head in both amusement and surprise at the sudden comeback of your confidence.

"We're not done yet," he just said, which may have sounded like a warning but you felt like he was talking about something else than this game you were both playing. "I didn't show you everything," he explained, even though this lesson about his anatomy was the smallest thing occupying his mind at the moment.

You refrained yourself from frowning, feeling pretty sure that he'd already named every single body part of his possible, but you didn't want him to notice how little attention you were actually paying. So you just nodded, getting ready to hear more of that very interesting stuff.

"...Ever seen a metal dick?"

Your jaw almost dropped when your brain registered his shameless question. You couldn't even say anything to that, just unsurely shaking your head to show him that you, in fact, have never seen a metal dick.

And you thought he was about to offer to present one to you just now, but he just let out an amused noise. "Too bad."

And with these words, he transformed into a silver Porsche and drove past you towards the exit of the garage, leaving you confused, breathless, and wanting something more...

might make a part 2 for this with smut if you want

#this one is disappointing #didnt go as planned tbh #i will rewrite it someday i promise (remind me)#mirage x reader #mirage x you #mirage #mirage rotb #mirage x my pussy #transformers rotb #mirage transformers #rotb #transformers #wattpad

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puhmpken · 2 months

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this has BEEN edited 🥳🎉

Author’s Note: this may be silly, but i have nagging myself to write this one 😭😭 hope yall like it <33

Warning ⚠️-> none! enjoy ☺️

Title: Hell’s GreatestDadParents !

Alastor X You OneShot

written + edited by @puhmpkins-blog 🎃

W/C: 1.8 K 🥱 not sm this time around

The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with tension. You sat perched on the edge of the queen-sized bed, your arms crossed. The fabric of your knee-length dress rustled as you shifted–avoiding eye contact with a certain red-haired demon who stood in the doorway.

“Unfair, Al,” You muttered, your voice ringing out lowly.

Alastor’s response was swift, his tone unwavering. “Dearie, not everything I want you to do will be fair. Just listen and do as you’re told.” His footsteps echoed as he closed the distance, bold strides carrying him toward you. His tuxedo jacket was impeccably tailored, and he adjusted the sleeves with a flick of his wrist.

“I need you to come to the hotel with me,” Alastor continued, his crimson eyes piercing. “Help me persuade the princess to listen to me more.” His fist clenched, and a surge of green energy erupted from his palm. “Can you do that for me?”

You nodded.

His smile was unsettling, a blend of charm and menace. “Excellent, dear,” Alastor murmured.

Your smile stretched as Lucifer's eyed you–He recognized you.

Charlie’s cheerful introduction echoed in the room, and you gracefully stood, leaving the bar behind.

“And this is Alastor's wife! (Y/n)” Charlie said happily

Your hand extended toward Lucifer,

“Lucifer,” you greeted, your voice a velvet whisper. “Long time no see, old friend.”

As your fingers brushed his, the chandelier above swayed, then plummeted, shattering into shards. Lucifer flinched, his gaze darting to the wreckage. But your smile only widened, revealing your sharp teeth.

Retracting your hand, you moved past him, joining Alastor’s side.

Lucifer bangs covered his eyes, his smile bared his teeth as he fist clenched on his staff

“haha..alrighty then” He said lowly

The blare of a trumpet was heard making you put your ears down

“Looks like you could use some help” Lucifer said swiping his cane in the air making Alastor and You dodge it, as he moved Charlie away from the both of you

“From the Big Boss of Hell himself!

Check out Daddy's glowing reviews on Yelp”

Mini little puppets appeared around Charlie, you kept your arms crossed watching him sing about the same thing he always does..the things he could promise

“Who needs buspeople?” he asks, snapping his finger. The scenery morphed, reality bending to his whims.

You, now changed, were in a crisp standard waitress outfit, balancing a silver platter on one hand as Charlie sat beside your standing figure.

Standing at Charlie other-side was Alastor, he was in a server outfit pouring red wine into a chalet for Charlie

Lucifer’s voice cut through the air

“Now that you got the chef!”

The ground shifted below you before Alastor and you plummeted into a colossal frying pan. The impact jarred your bones, but you landed on your back—luckier than Alastor, who fell face-first, his ears pinning back in probably discomfort

The scene shifted, reality bending like a mirage.

You groaned, your normal size restored. Revenge simmered within you;surely you had to get him back for him messing around with you..?

Lucifer’s pitch lacked conviction. His promises were half-hearted.

(f/c) swirls manifested around you–Both you and Alastor vanished, then reappeared before Lucifer, neon colors exploding from your very essence as he finished his song note

Slinging an arm around Lucifer, you feigned warmth, as if about to embrace him. But instead, you pushed him toward Alastor

“Who’s been here since day 1?” Alastor sang to Charlie, catching Lucifer. The red demon’s smile, as he shoved Lucifer aside and out of the way

You manifested on Charlie's side, you clouded her vision from seeing Alastor shove her father with your mock nun attire that clung to your curves perfectly it caught her attention, you held your hands in a mock prayer

“Who’s been faithful as a nun?” you asked, raising an eyebrow leaning towards her smiling.

Red theater curtains swirled around and engulfed the both of you–before swiping open, the curtain revealing a big stage bathed in warm light. You and Alastor both stood at its center, the spotlight capturing every move.

“Who makes you chuckle with an old timey pun?” You questioned out hip bumping Alastor as you waved your finger back and forth shutting one eye as you looked up to a smiling Charlie who was seating in the audience. Her smile was radiant. She leaned forward, caught in the theatrical magic.

You and Alastor materialized on opposite sides of her, your voices harmonizing.

“Your executive producer~!”

Elbowing her playfully as Alastor wrapped a arm around her, Charlie’s laughter echoed, and the scene shifted seamlessly.

“That’s true!” Charlie exclaimed, glancing from Alastor to you.

“He’s your guy!” You said appearing as a small shoulder angel infront of Charlie’s face “Your day-to-day!”Another little angel version of you winked. “Your chum!” Another version of you butted-in moving the first two a bit to the side as it pointed to Alastor

The scene shifted to the three of you guys working the front desk behind a busy hotel lobby “Your steadfast hotelier~!” You said as guests hurried by, their requests and complaints blending into a cacophony.

“Why, remember when he fixed that clog today?” you said raising a eyebrow before putting your hand to your chin. Alastor, sleeves rolled up, as he pulled Nifty out of a stubborn toilet. The cyclops grateful voice echoed as a once clogged toilet started to flush

“I was stuck! Thank you, sir,” Nifty had exclaimed. Alastor, still holding Nifty, patted her head with a smirk as you mirrored it, watching Charlie with her close eye smile.

“Oh you” She replied holding her cheek

Alastor stepped forward, spinning Charlie with practiced ease.

“I am truly honored that we built such a bond” Alastor said looking at Charlie from now on top the staircases as neon faces of them lit up

“Aww” Charlie replied

You appeared on Charlie's side leaning in, one hand on Charlie’s shoulders, sincerity in your eyes. “You’re like the child we wished we had,” you sang, your voice a gentle lullaby.

“Uhhh, what?”Lucifer’s voice interrupted from below the set of stairs.

Your eyes shot to him with a flash of a smirk spreading on your face for him to see and disappearing, did you strike a nerve?

Seating yourself at the edge of a bed, you looked down at a tucked-in Charlie. Alastor stood beside you, his hand on your shoulder. Together, you painted the picture of an unconventional loving family—the perfect family picture for Lucifer to have ingrained in his head.

“We care for you just like a daughter we spawned,” you said, patting Charlie’s head. Her eyes closed, as she relaxed into the makeshift embrace.

But Lucifer’s protest echoed. “Hold on NOW!” he shouted, disrupting the scene. You grabbed Charlie’s arm, pulling her out of bed. Spinning her, you cheered on her dance moves, and Alastor’s amused voice joined the chorus.

“Its little funny” You heard Alastor say— “You can almost say were your” Alastor’s voice trailed off as he grabbed both Charlie and you, spinning you both with one arm. He positioned you next to his side, placing Charlie in front of both of you. “Parentsssss,” he drawled, dragging out the word. His wicked gaze turned toward Lucifer, and you mirrored his smile, snapping your head to Lucifer before returning to your regular expression looking at Charlie

Suddenly you heard the noise of a violin playing..you looked to Lucifer seeing him play a golden one rather aggressively towards Alastor and you

You raised your eyebrow looking at Lucifer, as he was taking bold strides towards the both of you, before he got too close, a piano materialized in front of you as you heard your husband voice cut through the air

“Take it away dear!” Seating down, cracking your knuckles. Your fingers danced across the keys, and you shut your eyes, lost in the music–focus on upstaging Lucifer

Playing the last key, the final note harmony was shattered–you cringed at the noise you were hearing. It sound like a instrument being crushed, your shoulders tensed to the loud sharp noise–your deer ears flickering back and forth in annoyance. You peered your head over your shoulders too see Lucifer with squinted eyes and the purposely crush instrument above his head. As you squinted back, the lights around both of you flickered before shutting off completely.

Thinking the little singing battle was over you heard, a rhythmic beat filling the air.

“They say when you’re looking for assistants,” Alastor began, as large books started to descend onto Charlie’s back as she struggled to keep them up

“It’s smart to pick the path of less-,” you continued for Alastor, as both your figures manifested tendrils from the ground

As Alastor and you sang out

“Resistances~!”

As the tendrils thickened before lifting the heavy books off of Charlie back with ease

Lucifer interjected, “Others say in your needy hour. There’s no substitute for pure–angelic–POWER!!!.” With a spread of his wings, he flew briefly before landing near Charlie with a crazed look, gripping his staff tightly

“Whose is also your blood!”

As Lucifer approached Charlie closely, you stepped between them, easily grabbing her attention.

“Sadly there are times where a birth parent” As both Charlie and you appeared in a higher location looked down on Lucifer as you did a thumbs down motion “Are a dud” A trap door beneath him swung open, sending him plummeting into a black void.

“They say the family you choose” Alastor said appearing on Charlie’s otherside as little images of Angel, Nifty, Husk and Sir Pentious appeared around you three “Are often better!”

“What a bunch of,” Lucifer interjected, popping up and shoving Alastor aside with his staff.

“LOSERS!”

You watched standing next to Charlie as Alastor hip bumped Lucifer “Can you butt out of my song?” He questioned watching Lucifer stumble forward

“Your song?!” Lucifer countered, walking back towards Alastor and standing on his tiptoes, pointing at himself. “I started this!”

“I’ll finish it,” Alastor quickly replied, leaning down towards Lucifer as they both bumped heads, their razor-sharp teeth bared, growling like wild animals.

“OH! YOu tacky, piece of SHI–”Lucifer’s sentence was cut short as the door suddenly burst open.

Alastor and Lucifer both pausing their yelling at one another as they both turned their heads to the noise..really everyone did

A small but recognizable figure appeared at the door, prompting an internal eye roll from you.

“It’s me!” she sang out, wagging her finger and bouncing her hip. “Yes, it’s me! I know you were all waiting for me!” Confetti flew as if from thin air.

“It’s ME!” she exclaimed, now on the second floor, jumping from the railing and landing on her knees, sliding a bit on the floor. “MIMZYYY!” she proclaimed, taking in some big breaths after her energetic entrance.

“Who?” Lucifer asked after a moment, confusion written all over his face as he raised one eyebrow.

FIN!!!

Extra! Extra!

No extra is available this time around! Tune in next time for extras! :))

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lovrily · 10 months

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Loved the Steve Harrington x shy reader ones, can you please make another where reader is shy but super kind inside? Like she rescues sick kittens or dogs from street and lets them be free after a good care when nobody's around? Really wanna see Steve's reaction after he accidently finds her doing so.

P.s-Hope you're enjoying the beach🫶

hi friend!! the beach was so good but there's sand everywhere and i can't get rid of it xoxo. thank you for ur request i hope this fits what you imagined <3

shy + fem!reader | 1500 words

"hey!"

your head snaps up at the sudden harsh call, but their next words are softer and maybe a little exasperated.

"what the hell are you doing in the road?"

steve harrington approaches like a mirage. the anchor of your stomach drops, nerves nearly pinning you to the ground. heat ripples off of the pavement and off the edges of his hair, ringer-tee tight around his arms. his BMW is parked in a gravel offshoot a yard or two away. for a moment, you forget what you're doing and your hands go free.

"hi," you muster. "i was..."

oh! you whip back around, surprised to find the dog you've discovered still meandering toward the far side of the road. it's limping on its back right leg, as if it keeps pushing forward, the injury will heal itself. it's a bully of some sort; not quite a pit, but definitely not a bulldog. its fur is completely white save for some dirt around its paws and nose.

steve slows to a jogging stop and flicks his hand at you where you kneel. get up, he's motioning. his brows are drawn in the sunlight, and likely in confusion, too. when you go to stand, he takes your bicep gently in his hand and pulls you the rest of the way to your feet. he even steadies you once you're up.

"good?"

your ears go hot as irons. you want to thank him, but it's hard to speak when he's around, so you just nod.

"is it yours?" he asks.

"no," you reply. "no, i just...i was on my bike and i saw it limping."

he throws you an odd glance. "we're on the interstate."

it's true. in the wooded part, at least- surrounded by trees and a metal barrier. but the road is windy, and if a car came around from the opposite side, it would have to be paying good attention to spot you at the curve.

you blink at steve, surprised at how much he seems to care. it's obvious that he does- you're quiet; not dense. but you still don't know what to say.

"it's okay," you shrug.

really? that's the best you could come up with?

steve shakes his head, a little frantic as he takes your forearm and leads you to the metal barrier, climbing over it and then offering his hands to you a second time. "c'mon. hop over."

you blink at him, a little stunned still. it's a bit of a ridiculous reaction, maybe. steve is one of your best friends. but he's also...steve. you can't really be entirely calm around steve harrington. especially not when he appears out of nowhere and drives his car off the road to check on you.

you take his hands and step over. once you've landed, his hands swipe across your shoulders; an almost extended release.

the dog lingers on the other side of the railing. steve swings his legs back over the barrier, and it teeters backward, frightened by his height or maybe just the drop of his feet.

"hey," he calls, frazzled. "don't...it's okay. c'mere."

the dog whines, wary.

the whirring of an engine catches your attention, and you're forced to speak.

"steve," you say. his name is foreign on your lips despite how familiar he is to you. "there's a car."

"it's okay," he replies, kneeling. his voice is a murmur. the dog is backing further into the road, its wounded paw drifting over the yellow median. steve's gaze is sharp, both of you afraid for the animal now. you feel a little bad for dragging him into it. if something happens to the dog, now steve will have to be sad about it, too.

a blue volkswagen comes around the curve too fast for your liking and you're propelled over the barrier, grabbing the neck of steve's shirt.

you yank him backwards, although he probably didn't need it. the dog scampers off just in time as the car shoots by. its back lights stay dim, the driver not even tapping the brakes as flashes of white fur disappear into the forest on the other side of the road. and just like that, the dog is gone.

"damnit," steve huffs. but his shoulders are rigid. breaths rise and fall quickly from his chest, hard and fast, as if he's trying to slow down his heart. he glances over his shoulder, but not quite at you, without moving to pry your fingers off of his shirt. "i don't see it."

your expression crumples.

steve locks eyes with you after a moment of silence. his brown eyes are wide, expectant, as if he knew what your wordless response would be. his head cocks to the side a bit before he straightens out and sighs.

"alright, alright. i'll drive around and look for it."

his neck is warm. you let go, wrinkles from your grip left in the shirt. he wipes a hand over the top of his spine like you've left a film and turns to you.

"you shouldn't just park your bike on the road, mother theresa."

you scoff at the nickname, turning from his gaze. "i am not."

"yeah, whatever," he huffs in return, as if he's ready to leave, although he hasn't moved to do so.

it's nice of him to offer to look for the dog, but you're sure he won't find it again just by driving around. why would it risk going out onto the road again? you needed to look in the woods.

"why are you making that face?" he complains.

huh? "what face?"

"that...oh, man, whatever. alright. quit ogling at me. i'm gonna do it."

you laugh before you can stop it, and if steve was tempted to smile by that, he scrubs the look off his face quickly.

"what are you talking about?" you breathe.

"you're looking at me all...helpless," he retorts. "now i have to do whatever you ask."

that does it. if your ears went hot before, all of you is on fire now. you turn completely around, pretending to look for your bike in the trees, but you had left it in the complete opposite direction and you're too worked up to pass by steve on your way there.

finally, you're forced to turn back around. there's nowhere to hide from the incredibly obvious diversion you attempted and steve is going to be standing there no matter how long you pretend to be searching for something.

he's standing with his arms folded.

"do you do this a lot?"

you stare at him, brows lifting. do what? he reads your expression.

"pick up lost puppies, brake for birds...that sort of thing."

"those are different things," you murmur.

"you get it," steve retorts.

but you don't. the notion that you're some sort of sweet and gentle creature is odd to you, considering how clunky and awkward you feel most of the time, and for steve to suggest that you just did 'that sort of thing' was entirely unexpected to you.

of course, to steve, it's plain as day; you are the sweetest thing he's ever seen, and he would camp out in a tent on the interstate for the next week until he found that dog. for you.

he has to bite back a grimace at how enamored he is with you to offer his hand.

"c'mon. you can put your bike in the trunk and then we'll go look for the dog." he clocks your concern and sighs gently. "on foot."

good.

you're greedy and take his hand before you can be afraid to, and when you step over the railing, it's clumsy; your right leg landing harder than your left. you stumble, and steve catches you, your torso folded over his arm.

when he stands you up, you can't even look at him. but you can see the amused grin on his face out of the corner of your eye, kind and surprised and maybe a little cocky.

"you know what? i'll get the bike. you just...stand there. and try to stay standing until i get back."

you shoot a glare at his back despite your nerves. he returns with your bike, looking weightless in his arms, and says- "think you can make it to the car by yourself, or do you need me to carry you?"

you grin, all embarrassment. "shut up."

"that dog would be shocked by your harsh words if he could talk."

"steve," you laugh breathlessly.

he chuckles, quiet and soft, like he hadn't meant to let it out.

"this should be fun."

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader

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wysteria-clad · 2 years

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'Mwah' is real a word!

paring: Steven Grant x fem! reader

warnings: none

summary: you have one of the important arguments with your boyfriend Steven, while playing scrabble.

a/n: something quick to fulfill my fluff cravings

taglist: @twwcs @friendlyneighbourhood-parker @fayes-fics @devilish-mirage @syrma-sensei @gaymistakeboi @kindnonny23-2 @silentkoi @scarabgrant

----------

"It's not a word, love" he says calmly, a faint smirk on his lips.

"'Mwah' is a real word!"

"'Mwah' is not an actual word, Y/n/n" he scoffs playfully, "what does it even mean exactly?" he drawls.

You have been playing scrabble with Steven. It seemed like a good idea, until now.

"Okay, first of all it's a real word" you defend yourself, "and second, you know what it means!" you flail your arms.

"Darling, it's not a word"

"Oh, come on! 'Euneirophrenia' is a word and 'mwah' is not?" you stand up, placing your hands on your hip, "you just made that up" you cross your arms.

"Euneirophrenia is the peaceful state of mind after a pleasant dream" he says "And 'Mwah' is used to represent the sound of a kiss, usually in an exaggerated, theatrical way" he pauses for a second and adds, "it's something you do when you kiss" he gives you a tantalizing smirk.

As much as your wanted to wipe that sassy smirk off his face, you knew he was right.

"Show off" you mumble under your breath. Of course he hears that, making him let out a chuckle. "Fine, you win" you admit, begrudgingly—okay, okay, slightly begrudgingly.

"Ah, come here, love. Don't give me that sad face" he teases, reaching out to grab you by your arm.

"I'm not sad" you say it your most neutral tone, "Why would I be?"

"You are mad"

"I'm not"

"That's what someone would say when they are mad"

"I'm not mad!" you walk around him to leave the room, avoiding his extended arm.

It's not that you are actually mad. Marc doesn't give a single fuck when you play scrabble with him. You two actually make up words, give it a ridiculous meaning and laugh about it together. The fact that Steven wouldn't even budge, made you feel not angry but, upset you a little, slight disappointment maybe.

Of course, Steven follows you.

You realise it after few minutes. You turn around and ask him calmly, "Do you want anything or-"

Before you could even finish your sentence, he smashes your lips with his. Despite the previous...discussion, you find yourself smiling through the kiss. Your frozen arms relaxes after couple of seconds, you place them behind his head and the nape of his neck, your fingers threading through his soft curls.

He pulls away moments after, to catch his breath. "There is the smile I love"

"Oh, shush" you push his chest playfully, a smile dancing your lips.

"So, did you actually want anything or you just wanted to kiss me?" you ask him with a smirk now.

"Yes, I want your kiss" he admits, still smiling.

"We just kissed"

"Come on, love. Kiss me your way-"

"Don't say it" you grin.

"-with 'mwah'"

"Oh, now 'mwah' is a word?"

His tongue swipes his bottom lip. "Yes, it's a word now"

"Yes!" you fist pump in the air, grinning.

He chortles at your enthusiasm. His hands reach out to cup your face.

With a smile on your face, you kiss his cheek with an exaggerated 'mwah', making him smile in return. You give a quick peck to kiss lips too.

He knew how to pull you back from playful banters. He adored it, it lead to silly and sweet moments like this.

You both look at eachother's eyes before bursting into laughter again.

#steven grant x reader #steven grant imagine #steven grant fluff #moon knight fluff #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine #moon knight

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wordsandrobots · 3 months

Text

I was sorting through a few things today and realised I never actually shared the sketches I did from when I was trying to work out what grown-up Shino looked like for To Catch a Falling Star. Mostly because they are not great. But hey, let's call this back-matter for the fic!

[EDIT: OH RIGHT THAT WAS WHY I DIDN'T POST IT. Tumblr objecting to his having nipples. Right, OK, I guess we're censoring that and not the actual signs of massive injury. Cool.]

Things to note:

The scars I explicitly stated in the text are: scarring up his neck but not extending to his head, a large burn on his left flank , an oval-shaped burn around his whisker (yes, exactly the shape you're thinking), and a strip of replaced skin taking up most of his right thigh. The rest are generally covered by 'there's a fuck-ton of them'.

(I mentioned this in the fic notes but the reason there are no scars on his face is because his helmet sealed shut right before Flauros depressurised, protecting his head from all but superficial damage. This saved his life but didn't do much for the rest of him, which was injured by the explosions and the normal-suit attempting to self-repair damage.)

Shino starts out in the fic with his head shaved but when he grows his hair back, he's (at least initially) somewhat shaggier than he was as a teenager.

He is also considerably less hench than he used to be. He's still roughly the same dimensions, but not nearly as defined and is even a bit gaunt-looking in certain lights. Traumatic everything injuries will do that to a person.

His new ear-studs are all gold; unlike Kudelia's, there is no jewel.

When I was originally thinking about the prosthetic connector, you can seen that my ideas tended a bit more Trigun-esque than is perhaps warranted. That's because I hadn't yet seen this picture of Argi Mirage's arm from the manga:

The cap on the end should therefore probably be a lot smaller and flow more cleanly into the flesh, ala a whisker, and so the outline should more resemble a real-life residual limb.

His prosthetic should also be closer to the above than I drew it -- or rather, closer to Derma's, since they're made by the same person:

I imagine there being a greater amount of plastic and otherwise non-metal sections than Moon Steel shows with Argi. Certainly, from the shot above, it seems Derma's hand is inside a flexible glove instead of just being nakedly robotic (which makes sense, he works with children whereas Argi mainly hits people for a living).

Oh, yes, for those who haven't read the fic: Shino's prosthetic having five digits is *very much* significant and plot-relevant. Actually, thinking it through now, that would explain why (per my descriptions) Shino's fingers have exposed metal parts over a softer bed of tactile sensors: to better protect them given that they're more vulnerable to damage than standard three-finger manipulators.

Anyway, there we have it. Character redesign thoughts! I should probably have another go at drawing him at some point, though I would need to get back into the swing of sketching first. Maybe when I'm done writing! (On top of everything else I plan to do when the last fic in the series is finished . . .)

#norba shino #gundam iron blooded orphans #gundam ibo #g tekketsu #tekketsu no orphans #spoilers #fanart #fanfic #my fic #my art #is fanfic back-matter a thing?#well why not

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cambria-writes · 1 year

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It is finally update Sunday! I’m so sorry this took so long to put out. A lot of things have happened in the past few months and I’ll be real, most of them were not good lol. I hope you were still able to enjoy the Halloween and Christmas specials!

I’m hoping to be able to wrap this story up within the next few chapters, so I hope you’ll hang around for that. :)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader rating: M warning: swearing, blood, vecna, questionable use of adnd lore and spells, mild panic, lemme know if there’s anything else word count: 3,433

Previous Next Masterlist

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔲𝔫𝔢

“You have to go,” Eleven says, hand on your shoulder while your arms are around Max.

“How am I supposed to leave though?” Max asks, and she sounds miserable, three seconds away from crying. “I’m stuck here because—because of him,” she bites, waving vaguely off in the direction Vecna still, for the moment, lies.

“I can get him away,” Eleven says, and though you’re sure her voice doesn’t betray any uncertainty, her eyes do. She turns to you. “When you wake up, you’ll be able to wake up Max.”

“That’s not a great idea,” you whisper, squeezing your hand on Max’s shoulder. You bite your lips before looking over to El. “But I might have something that works.”

Both girls frown at you, but before you can explain yourself, or bat away their concerns, the sound of groaning and splitting wood fills the gym. You stand motionless with Max pressed against your side while Eleven slowly makes her way to the center of the gym.

Vecna emerges from a mess of splintered wood in a nearly seamless, singular motion. It’s uncanny and it’s unsettling. He doesn’t move with the grace of any kind of predator you know; it’s unnatural, smooth, and achingly deliberate.

That’s when you realize that he’s entirely confident, no matter what happens, that he has the upper hand. Vecna’s already convinced of your loss.

You swallow thickly and screw your eyes shut. The amount of confidence you have in this—your newfound abilities, let alone yourself—is laughably low to the point of non-existence, trying is the least you could do. So you slowly untangle yourself and put Max at arms’ length. You open your mouth to speak, but there’s another feeling at the back of your neck, like a string pulling at the base of your spine, that makes you turn around.

You see Vecna raise a hand, prompting the splintered wood on the floor to rise as well. You take a deep breath and turn back to face Max.

“We have music playing from a car outside the house,” you say, quickly, and shake Max to quiet down when she opens her mouth to speak. “Focus. It’s Kate Bush. I need you to see if you can hear it.”

You and Max both flinch at the sound of wood hitting wood, but Max closes her eyes and knits her brow in focus. You do the same thing, trying to block out the talking behind you.

You can’t make out anything beyond the roaring of your pulse.

“Yeah, yeah I can—I can hear it!” When Max turns, just a little bit, to face the gym’s entrance, you follow her gaze. There’s something strange, under one of the tables. The air almost looks like the rippling mirage over a hot street.

When you look back to Eleven, she’s suspended in the air, slowly rotating to face Vecna. You start shoving Max along.

“Go, go go go,” you urge, rushing ahead to throw chairs out of the way. “Run and slide!”

You lift your head to glance at Vecna, whose cloudy eyes slowly meet yours. You bite your tongue against the scream burning in your throat. He begins to extend another hand in your direction—at Max, you’d guess—but as she’s dropping on her knees to slide under the table and, consequently, into some strange kind bird’s eye view portal of the Creel manor attic, you rush to interpose yourself.

There’s a second where, when you no longer hear the sound of fabric on the floor, you wonder if Max hasn’t made it through. But the scowl on Vecna’s face is about as reassuring as it is terrifying. You feel suffocated, for a second, like you’ve been put in a vacuum and all the air’s been sucked out. But also just as instantly you gasp for breath, the nerves in your arms stinging and your eyes watering.

You see the arm aimed at Eleven lower, almost imperceptibly, and El herself seems to realize that the pressure around her body seems to lessen.

“You can’t—you can’t hurt me,” you stutter, looking back and forth between the monster in front of you and the dangling girl. “You can’t touch me.”

Vecna stays quiet, but narrows his eyes. The hand still held up toward you clenches into a fist. You feel, for a second, like you’re being tucked in far too tightly. Again, though, as soon as the feeling appears, it vanishes. This time, though, your head throbs in a way that makes it impossible to ignore. You take a hesitant step forward.

“You can’t use anything against me,” you reiterate, swallowing past a lump in your throat and taking another step forward. “Keep trying.”

Eleven makes a choked sound from where she still hangs when more sharp splinters of wood come up. Vecna audibly grunts when he sends them your way.

Not a single one hits.

Every single bit goes wide.

Eleven drops to the floor in a heap, coughing, when Vecna puts both his arms down and turns to walk toward you. You stand your ground, but not because you’re confident in what you’ve been saying. You just don’t see how running is a good idea right now.

When he stops mid step, you take a slow step forward. When he doesn’t move, you take another. And another. Slowly, you walk around a petrified Vecna, over to Eleven’s side.

“What now?” you whisper, as El slowly twists her wrist to have Vecna facing her. The both of you. “Tell me how to he—”

You’re cut off when your vision goes strange. Like, for just a second, everything was in triplicate, slightly off kilter and overlaid. You feel yourself hitting the ground on your knees. When you blink enough to be able to see properly again, you can see the blood from your nose dripping to the floor.

“In…teresting…”

You gather the bloody saliva in your mouth and spit before you slowly get back up on your feet. “He keeps trying to test me,” you explain to Eleven, voice hoarse, when you catch her concerned glance. “Nothing he does can actually land but I guess I can’t help the strain from blocking his bullshit.”

“I have an idea,” Eleven says, through clenched teeth. And though she doesn’t move, to help maintain her focus you assume, she goes look off to the side at something. You do your best to ignore the disgusting, slithering sound of Vecna’s struggle against Eleven’s hold as you shuffle to look around and past her to what she’s looking at.

…a balloon archway? You frown, at first, but then the understanding washes over you; a gateway. You nod slowly.

“Where to?”

There’s a moment of silence before El answers. “Me.”

You gape at her before speaking up. “You’re kidding me. You’re saying—you want me to put him,” you start, gesturing widely at Vecna. “Into your head.”

She nods only once, eyes still glued on the grotesque excuse of a man in front of you.

“Please tell me you have a plan.”

“I do.”

You look up at the ceiling for a second and shake your arms before you stalk over to the balloon archway. Again, a strange and sudden wave of vertigo hits you, but this time you catch yourself and manage only to stumble rather than fall. You bite your tongue against the urge to turn around and scream. Next to the arch, you place your hand on the nearest balloon and close your eyes. You have no idea what you’re doing, really, but you’re hoping that the blooming, sharp pain behind your eyes and the vague image of Eleven that you have in your head are going to be enough.

You’re only peripherally aware that you’re dreaming. There’s one errant thought of oh, this is a dream, before you’re whisked away into it.

Though his hair’s still relatively long, you can tell that this Eddie is younger. Maybe still a little angry, and a little less touched by the people around him. There isn’t that set to his eyes that you know he has now.

Dutifully, you follow the dream and sit at a large table in the drama room. You don’t comment about the smell—you have an older brother, you know the smell of weed by now—and you don’t make any sudden movements. You’re surrounded by a bunch of older boys and you’re trying to make a good impression.

You hardly ever spoke unless the senior DM spoke to you directly. To be fair, your quiet lended itself well to your cloistered cleric, though two hours in you got the feeling that the other guys around the table were getting a bit annoyed.

“The warlock doesn’t look surprised to see you,” Greg. the senior DMing for you, announces. You scrunch your nose at his self-satisfied grin. You could’ve seen that coming from a mile away. There was no way in hell that your party could’ve made it that deep without being detected.

None of them were even sneaking!

“He waves his hands,” Greg continues, slowly rising from his chair at the head of the table. “And the large double doors slam shut behind you. There’s a heavy thud, and you know that you’ve been locked in.”

The other boys start off fairly excited; the ranger tries to shoot the warlock down, which doesn’t work. Fireballs won’t work either, and whatever the paladin tries also falls miserably short. The whole time, while the rest of the party tries and fails to attack, you go back and forth between cure light sounds and chant after your initial casting of sanctuary.

Another half hour and you, Eddie and the fluffy haired kid—Gareth, though you’d only learn his name the next day—are the only ones still in the fight. You’re biting and worrying at your lip and the insides of your cheeks like they’ve personally offended you. There’s not much you can do for either boys. But you slam the table when Eddie’s talking to Gareth about what he’s planning to do next. Your hit’s hard enough to rattle the near-empty coke cans on the table.

“Sor-sorry! I just, Ed,” you rush out, a little breathless. “You remember when my brother was playing in the basement a few weeks ago and he had to make the saving throw against the dragon?” Eddie frowns at you like you’re speaking in tongues but nods. “The only way he actually made it was because the elf—”

“Rolled, he rolled!” Eddie finished for you, jumping up to his feet and snapping his fingers at Gareth. “You! Your strength is higher than mine! We’ll both roll to hit and if I get ten or more you add 2 to your attack roll!”

“Hold up,” Greg grind out, holding his hands out over his screen. You can’t help but shrink back a little bit. “What the hell are you talking about? There’s literally no rule like that anywhere.”

“Aid another,” Eddie answers for you, looping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in a little too close. You blow his hair out of your nose. “It was added in the last revision. Did you not know about it?”

There’s some fervent discussion and… in the end, Greg was too much of a sore loser and called the game before anything else could happen.

Waking up, for real this time, isn’t the breath of fresh air you hoped it would be. You’re crawling towards Max before you can entirely see or even coordinate your limbs terribly well.

“Max,” you croak out, trying to blink your swimming vision back to cohesion. You try to shove Eddie’s hands away. “She has t—we, we have to wake her up.”

“Wh-what?” Lucas says, though his voice sounds a little watery.

“Wake her up,” you say again, reaching out and grabbing the back of Max’s jacket. “Shake her, scream, do something!”

And while Lucas roughly shakes Max by her shoulders and calls her name loud enough for you to flinch back, Eddie helps you back to your feet. You try to take an unsteady step toward the two teens on the floor but Eddie holds you firmly in place, hands almost vice-like around your upper arms.

“What the hell happened,” Eddie grits out, and after blinking a few times, you notice that his… his eyes are maybe a little redder than they used to be. His nose too?

“Hey, what—”

“Naaah, no,” Eddie sniffs, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose before putting it on your shoulder. “No, you answer my question first. What. The fuck. Was that.”

“Eddie, please, I need to—”

“You need,” Eddie cuts you off again, shaking you a little and vaguely nodding down to the jar that you’d been holding and had clearly fallen out of your hands. “To tell me what’s going on.”

“I… It’s.” you try, clearing your throat and rubbing at your nose before trying again. “Vecna had Max when I showed up. And then Eleven showed up. And she—I, fuck. Wherever I was, I made a gate to shove him into El’s head? Instead of his own mind palace? But I have to go back.”

“The fuck you do,” Eddie spits, digshis fingers against your arms, but eventually lets go. “Why?”

“You remember the first Hellfire game you went to where Greg tested us? I barely said anything?”

“And that was like, one of three times you ever showed up, yeah, what about it?”

“Aid another, I need—I want to aid another for Eleven.”

There’s a strange shift that happens on Eddie’s face. And for a second, you think you might actually see something that looks like resignation in the set of his brows before something else entirely takes over. You think, maybe, there’s something in that face you would’ve been able to see in the mirror the night you pulled him away from Chrissy.

“You’re halfway dead already.”

You huff angrily and you’re about to try and come up with a retort when you hear Lucas behind you.

“Max..? Max? Oh god,” he sighs when you turn around, and you’re almost about to try something extremely stupid when you see one of Max’s arms come up, slowly, to grab at Lucas.

“I’m good,” she whispers, choked. “I made it. I’m okay.”

You take a deep, stuttering breath; with the music playing from the car outside and how preoccupied Vecna probably is, you feel comfortable assuming Max is safe for the next little bit. That’s when you notice the lamp beyond both kids starting to glow more vividly.

When you turn to Erica, dithering a few feet in front of the staircase, hers begins to glow brighter as well.

“They’re here,” you hear Eddie say next to you. “We gotta move.”

Erica helps Lucas to get Max down to the foyers. None of you are terribly fussed about Carver; he can wake up and figure shit out on his own. Eddie props you up almost the entire way down and out. You gently push him away and towards what you’re assuming is Jason’s car to lower the volume. With Max conscious and relatively okay, it really doesn’t need to be that loud.

Meanwhile, you’re becoming fast friends with the front lawn. Though at first you just sit down, you eventually let yourself fall back into the damp brown-orange grass and sigh. When the music quiets a bit, you finally close your eyes and sigh.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Eddie mutters, kicking at your foot before you hear him sit heavily next to you. “What now?”

“Honestly dunno,” you breathe, letting your fingers run through the grass. Open your eyes and lean up on your elbows to take a look at where the kids are at. Max is half sat on the passenger side of Justin’s car, elbows on her knees and speaking quietly to Lucas and Erica. When you fall back down, you sigh. “We should legit leave, but I don’t think I want ‘grand theft auto’ hanging over any of us.”

“Wouldn’t be a big deal,” Eddie shrugs, and you halfheartedly lift an arm to slap him in the ribs.

“Shut the fuck up,” you grumble, letting your eyes close again. Eddie’s grabbed a hold of your arm and keeps it close to his chest. “You’re not your dad.”

“We shouldn’t leave,” he replies, ignoring what you’ve just said entirely. “We need to stick around if Harrington and the others need help.”

You grumble quietly. He’s not wrong. But something feels like an itch under your skin, and you don’t like laying there doing nothing. Your brain feels sluggish when you try to think. All your mind can stick to is Aid Another and helping Eleven.

Pull your arm away from Eddie and bring your hands up to your face and dig your palms into your eyes. You absolutely do want to pull a stupid stunt that would definitely get you yelled at, but the idea of potentially frying your brain into a perpetual coma is… terrifying.

Is it any more terrifying that it would’ve been for Max though?

When you peel your hands away from your face, you turn to Eddie to speak. But just as you open your mouth, two things happen at nearly the same time:

You hear the kids start exclaiming about the lamp lighting up.

And you feel the hairs at the back of your neck rise with the bile in your throat.

“That’s not Steve and the others,” you say quickly, sitting up a little too fast. The ground spins despite being so close, and Eddie almost instantly jumps to his feet to crouch next to you.

“What are you—” he starts, but you wave him off before letting your hand rest on his shoulder.

“That’s Vecna,” you grind out. There’s panic bubbling up in your chest. “I don’t think they killed him. I gotta—Eddie, I have to do something.” You almost let the end of the sentence trail off when you turn to properly look at him.

You can see your panic mirrored in his face and you hate it.

When you turn back to look at the glowing lamp, its blue glow slowly growing in strength, you figure you could do the only thing you know has been reliable. The one thing that you’ve actually been able to do in your sleep.

“Hey,” Eddie says, a frayed edge to his voice. He roughly grabs at your shoulder to get you to face him properly. You must have a glassy-eyed, determined look to you, because Eddie almost lets go. Instead, he gets his legs underneath him and, once he’s kneeling, grabs your face in both his hands.

You close your eyes. They’re warm.

“You don’t need to be doing everything,” Eddie pleads, and though you shake your head, he doesn’t let go. “I told you to—”

“Use my brain wisely,” you cut in, parroting him, quietly. “I know. Go get Max for me.”

Eddie practically trips over the slick grass in his hurry. Max flies over to you and kneels by your right.

“Hey, what-what’s up?”

You turn to Eddie first, silently grabbing one of his hands and placing it on your shoulder. High enough that you can feel his skin on your neck. You’ll just go with the notion that the vibration you feel through your chest is… is whatever it is you’re about to do. Tell yourself that you absolutely didn’t need the contact for comfort, just. Y’know, how these things work? Borrowing energy or whatever? Doesn’t matter.

“Hands,” you tell Max when you turn to face her. She places her hands—cold, shaking—in yours.

When you close your eyes and focus on your breathing, it takes a little bit. There’s a lot of noise going on; there’s the car stereo still playing Kate Bush, there’s both Max and Eddie’s breathing, there’s Lucas and Erica nervously chattering a bit further off, a dog barking a few blocks away…

When all the sound fades away, you know you’re doing something alright. Passable, at least. When you open your eyes, everything looks more or less the same. Colours feel maybe a little brighter, more vivid. But the most striking thing is that there’s clearly something that’s almost billowing out of Max’s nostrils.

Eddie must feel you twitch, because he leans in to quietly ask what’s wrong.

“You don’t see anything,” you say, and without looking away from Max, can feel Eddie shaking his head. You take another deep breath. “Right on. Don’t… worry about…”

You trail off and lean back.

Eddie’s chest is warm.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

@anothermunsonsimp @alovesongshewrote @averagestudent03 @doratheignora @storiesbyrhi

#Ravenloft #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #fix-it fic #eddie lives #spoilers i guess #max mayfield #running real wild and loose with adnd shit here #Slow burn #slow roast like coffee #Eddie xreader

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altraviolet · 7 months

Note

Would LOVE to see what was going through Roddy’s head here

—

The resonance hit him like a dazzling fist. Stunning yet alien. Soundwave's spark swelled, struggling to intertwine its energies with Rodimus's. The resonance was incomplete and incompatible. It danced, delicate, thinning in the confines of Soundwave's ruined spark chamber. It behaved nothing like the soundwave he had once taken from prisoners.

must hurry

For the first time, Soundwave commanded his inner, effervescent machinery not to manufacture the resonance's inverse. Instead, he overlaid it with the heartbeat of 2938 Cybertron. Rodimus's resonance paled beneath it.

too alien! too different! losing substance

He needed to mesh the energies together, but Rodimus's resonance was too soft and thin to work with. Soundwave's spark shifted. Snippets of Mirage and his inset gems and the arena flitted through his processor.

reignition?

must magnify resonance

need time

Rodimus burbled. Soundwave snapped back to reality. His tentacles and arms were scorched. Rodimus was taking agonizing, gasping vents. Pink liquid, tinged with gold, dripped from his eyes.

rodimus

Soundwave removed his tendrils from Rodimus's chest as quickly and gently as possible. The relative coolness of the room shocked them stiff. One had a tip coated in silver. Soundwave hastily tucked it away. He released Rodimus from his tentacles but not his arms. They were weak and shaky. He would hold Rodimus still and safely out of Megatron's sight until his spark finished working the resonances.

Soundwave flashed a status bar on his visor: 43% complete. “Need time. Don't speak. Don't mov-”

Rodimus smashed his fists against Soundwave's arms and jumped back, out of his grasp. “What the fuck, Soundwave!” Rodimus pressed his hands against the flame of his chest. Blood bubbled around his fingers. Black smoke poured from his chrome. “Augh, fuck! That fucking hurt!”

The stinging, grief-filled pain from before spread through Soundwave's limbs. He tried to shake it off, but the more he looked at Rodimus, the stronger it got. He ached to hold Rodimus in his tentacles again, gently this time, carefully-

“We feed you!” yelled Rodimus. Pink and gold rolled down his cheeks. Soundwave wanted to wipe it away. “You can't feel like that! We feed you!”

Megatron's gnashing eyes shifted towards Rodimus. soundwave, what are you doing? destroy the autobot.

plan: compromised

rodimus: in danger

49% complete

new plan: need time

Beneath the chaos of Megatron's mounting impatience and the ache in his lines, Soundwave heard liquid hitting the floor.

drip, drip

Rodimus's angry and pained expression rounded to one of shock. Red light from Soundwave's visor – he didn't know what he was displaying – reflected off his crest. Rodimus extended an arm and held his hand under Soundwave's chin.

drip, drip

His hand came away covered in blue.

damage?

There was hot liquid running down his face, from his right eye to his chin. Beneath his visor.

“Soundwave?”

You're going to learn what Rodimus was thinking and feeling in this scene for sure. Maybe not in great detail, and I haven't written that scene yet, but you'll get an idea. I can tell you he was in a LOT of pain and reallllllyyyyyyy struggling with the fact that he wanted to trust SW, SW seems to be killing him, he doesn't want to burn the hell out of SW cuz he knows if, somehow, they get out of this, it's going to be impossible to fix him... very complicated scene...

And then SW shows him what was in his spark and he cries, and all the fear and confusion clears up because... well, you'll find out :)

#long post #ask #autobratty

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silkendandelion · 9 months

Text

Mirage In The Desert - Chapter 10

Summary: After weeks of searching, River believes he’s found the answer to his question: a boy with a straw hat and his friends.

Rated Teen and Up Audiences for language, implied violence. Cross-posted to Ao3, same username. Send me a DM: yell at me, send flowers. Cheers.

~*~

They believed the hardest adjustment would be the heat.

For Oasins, community and family were foremost, and for the mighty 35 that traveled to join the rebels, now separated by hundreds of miles for the first time in centuries, the heat was injury to insult.

Upon arriving to Yuba, they were instructed to abandon their clothes. The long, blue linen wraps called shen were worn by all Oasins to protect their legs from the sun, and yet could be tied to the waist by the bottom hem to stay dry while wading in the ocean. Their gold, while thankfully wasn’t confiscated, was ordered to be shipped back to the island.

They chose to package their shen as well, piling a single crate full with earrings, piercings, necklaces, gold from their hair, from their mothers, some of which had never been removed since parents years ago covered their babies in sun beams and stars.

So they stood naked in front of the love of their ancestors, covered in the rags of the rebellion, and nailed the crate shut.

Mercy, is that they would be in Yuba when the island receives their burden, never to see the tears of the mothers and brothers that open the crate, believing this would be the only box they receive if their loved ones do not come home.

“I promise it’s for your safety,” Koza said, unable to meet Esai’s eyes for more than a glance.

“I would never—,” he took a deep breath. “I understand how difficult this must be.”

“You can’t.” Esai’s conviction burned his face, unflinching and unafraid. “But I can. So promise me one thing, leader.”

“Of course.”

“That 35 Oasins will return to our island when this war ends.”

Koza met his eyes finally, torn between an earnest but naive speech of devotion, and an apology that would mean too little as he watched his men begin handing out guns.

“I promise.” ____ ___ __ _

Avoiding each other should have been harder, in the casino.

The tourist city went on, festivities uninterrupted, an unstoppable wheel of commerce incapable of slowing for the pain of a battered victim like love. And so they went on too, comforted by the memories of stolen whispers behind the hands that sheltered the flame of a cigarette, of uttered promises to meet when only the candlelight is left.

River couldn’t recall the last time they more than spoke, and Crocodile knew it was the morning he was too selfish to tell him goodbye.

“Sir, someone is here to see you,” Mila said, gesturing to a young man at her side that carried a loosely wrapped parcel under one arm, his hand already extended for a handshake.

“Pleasure to meet you, Crocodile, sir. My father’s tells me you’ve been his customer for ages.”

He dismissed Robin beside him with a wave of his hand, idly pocketing the papers she delivered before he acknowledged him, though without shaking his hand.

“Your father’s a talented craftsman.”

Another small gesture offered the man a seat at the bar next to him, and he realized Crocodile must live most of his life with his ambitions fulfilled by only a turn of his hand or the words he spoke.

“You’re too kind, sir. I have your order here. You know, I believe our best work is custom made—pieces of our customer’s vision, a shared creation.”

“Do you always prattle on about romantic things without introducing yourself? Or do I make you nervous?” His cigar cutter, thik, broke the silence.

The apprentice’s sentiment skidded to a halt, face suddenly hot, and he fidgeted with his shirt to dispel the embarrassment under his collar. “I—of course not. I mean, I’m not used to meeting the customers. I usually sew most of the day—”

Crocodile was content to smoke while he studied him, his chin on his hand while he waited as patiently as he was capable. He stammers like the fool.

“Crocodile,” came the voice of said fool, and River appeared at his side to offer an envelope in his first two fingers.

“Hm?”

“For you.”

A report, now tucked into his breast pocket beside Robin’s papers, but he couldn’t take time to admire the deliverer when River vanished, off to blackjack or some other, probably to avoid either of them saying too much in front of company.

He opened the tailor’s parcel to distract his restless mind and unfolded a silk scarf, Oasin blue, warm from the walk over as it slipped between his cool fingers.

Will he even accept gifts when we are so far apart?

“I made that coat.” The young man’s voice broke him from his thoughts, and he turned to see him watching River coddle the tourists at a card table.

“It took me a week and all the faux sable we had. I told my dad ‘I want to meet the person who could order such a beautiful coat’.”

Crocodile didn’t care for the fondness in his eyes while he studied him adjusting his hair pin, hands no longer fidgeting with his shirt and now ringing themselves for courage.

“Lulusian crystal buttons, cashmere and silk. He’s an associate of yours, isn’t he, Crocodile? Will you introduce me?”

The young man turned back to him but found Crocodile’s previously bored gaze overwhelming, a warning to flee before he loses his temper in front of the customers. How the warlord managed to keep his voice level baffled them both, though he knew the man’s instincts must be ringing alarm bells.

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, I was hoping—”

“Hoping for what? Dinner? What can a tailor’s apprentice offer eminence?”

The shrewdness of his words, his irritated rumble, lit a glimmer of realization across the man’s face, his shoulders wilting and eyes in his lap, obedient. “… I have overstepped. I’m sorry, sir, I hadn’t realized you two were…”

“Leave. Take that with you.”

He gasped, “Please, sir, I truly meant no offense! Take it, free of charge!” And offered the box above his bowed head.

Tourists lifted their heads to notice the commotion at the bar, their eyes scratching across Crocodile’s already thin patience.

“Keep your money and your product. It no longer suits me.”

His disapproving finger silenced the man’s protest, the box again tucked under his arm as he fled.

From where he had witnessed the altercation across the casino floor, River’s hard stare burned a hole in his temple. He endured, regardless, unwilling to let his mask slip on a weakness as coarse as jealousy.

Would he make you happy? He’s just a boy, liable to break your heart when he proves he is as selfish as the rest of the world.

Could you love him if he never broke your heart the way I did? ____ ___ __ _

Days to Operation Utopia: 3

Aboard the swan ship business continues the same, the errand runs and treasure hunting of Mr. 2 and Mr. i, both finding peace in routine even as the latter is hyper-aware of the clock, ticking down hours in the back of the mind.

“Newspaper, Mr. Faustina.” A crew-mate found him smoking by the open window, and went over to the hand he offered.

“Thank you,” he said while blowing the smoke away. “Has Mr. 2 decided on what he wants for dinner?”

“You know how the captain is—”

“I’M IN THE MOOD,” came a sing-song voice from outside the door.

“Speak of the dancer, and they appear.” River laughed quietly. “Isn’t that how the saying goes?”

“Well, not exactly—”

“FOR A SEAFOOD SURPRISE, YES SURPRISE!” Mr. 2 sang as they fluttered into the room, spinning wide before they got into River’s space to put a boop on his smiling chin, a playful ‘bleh’ on their tongue when they spotted his cigarette.

“A meal fit for a king. OH, by the sea, I see, with a beauty to rival the ocean. Yes, the one sitting here by the window, whom I wishwouldquitsmoking forever and ever moreeeee.”

“Hey, I think I’m in this song somewhere,” River said around his cigarette, though he gently pressed it into the ashtray anyway.

“Mr. 2, I’m starving. So how about this: anything you catch, I’ll cook. Yes? I’ll make—” His offering was cut off by the okama’s delighted screech, and the door slamming shut while they raced to begin fishing, no doubt.

No reason to be alarmed, Mr. 2 was known for flouncing about as they pleased, and River leaned back in his chair, wondering whether to relight his cigarette when a muffled splash came from the window.

“Mr. 2?!”

The crew all scrambled to lean over the railing, everyone except the helmsman and River, who ran to the bow to track the bubbles of a foolish devil fruit eater, bound to sink. He braced on the railing, ready to dive in after them, before a mighty wave of water burst upwards to nearly soak them all.

“Yahoo!”, came Mr. 2’s excited yell, their manicured hands holding tight to the back of a species River didn’t recognize, a slippery, porpoise-looking animal that wasn’t large enough to be a sea king—but still probably shouldn’t be ridden.

“I’ll be back with a feast for us! Wait for me, baby!” The beast rocketed off with a pink blur attached to their back.

“You can’t swim!!” River called after the racing split in the water that approached the horizon.

“Full speed after the captain!”, shouted the crew as they clamored to their posts, and River gave an exhausted but not unhappy groan.

“What a mess. Well, he’s sure to make a friend wherever he ends up.”

No doubt about that, and the Strawhat pirates that fish them out of the ocean, half-starved but in good spirits, are no match for the ballerina’s cheery candor. Well, at least the less suspicious ones are.

“You all are too trusting,” Nami sighed, though she couldn’t hope to compete with the one man show and their lively audience.

“That’s an incredible ability!” Chopper cried, delighted, when the ballerina mimicked them with a carbon copy of their furry face, down to the broken antler and blue nose.

“I have a memory function too. With my other hand, I can—” They touched their face with a pop, flipping through a variety of faces, though it seems their signature twang required actual effort to suppress.

Even the King.

From where she watched, the princess Vivi froze, a pang of fear shooting through her stomach when she recognized her father among the catalog of faces. The novelty of the ballerina’s show ripped away, she knew immediately the identity of the intruder they had fished up and brought aboard without a second thought.

“Impossible—”

“Oi, pay attention! There’s another ship coming up on us!” Sanji said to their captain and commander.

The swan-like ship, matching her owner, approached the Merry at a leisurely pace, crowded along the railing with a worried crew hoping to spot their missing captain.

“And that’s—” Vivi nearly bit her tongue, pushing down her instinct to say the name of the man on the bow, his dark hair waving behind him and wearing a regal suit that separated him at sight from the plain pirates beside him. What could have been a prince from one of her storybooks was just another proof of danger, and she knew they might have to fight before they even reached Alabasta.

“Time to say goodbye already…?” The ballerina suddenly mounted the railing, trailed by the affectionate little crowd of young pirates.

“But not forever, I’m sure. We’ll meet again, friends, and don’t forget—Friendship has nothing to do with how long we’ve known each other.”

The glittering tear they brushed away had the kids cheering, even their captain, also in tears. Outrageous, if you asked the others.

“Don’t cry for me!”, was the stranger’s last hurrah, muffled by the distance traveled from bow to bow, and intermingled with the prince shouting something about “Mr. 2, you idiot”, and “what do you mean you didn’t catch any fish?”

“MR. 2?!” The Strawhats cried, but could only stare helplessly at the swan ship as it sailed away.

“Like, Baroque Works, Mr. 2?” Usopp croaked.

“Yes,” Vivi said. “I’ve never been allowed to meet Mr. 2, but I’ve heard the rumors. Of a tall, broad ballerina with a pink coat that reads ‘Bon Clay’ on the back—”

“You really should have noticed sooner,” Zoro and Luffy groaned.

“—And their partner, Mr. i, who was brought on as an officer a little over a year ago, and carries twin swords of chased silver. While the prevailing rumor is Mr. i used his feminine beauty to secure his rank, I don’t believe Crocodile would take such a risk.”

Lighting his cigarette, Sanji stood unimpressed by the railing. “We shouldn’t underestimate either of them.”

“Mr. 2, he—” Vivi paused to avoid tears. “He has my father’s face in his memory. The king, Nefertari Cobra.”

The silence that followed only confirmed Vivi’s fear was shared by the young crew, as well as that they were firmly within enemy territory now, much sooner than they had hoped.

“You could wreak a lot of havoc with a power like that,” Zoro said.

“It’ll be problematic if we run into them again, since Mr. 2 now has several of our faces.”

A handful of guilty Strawhats wilted under Nami’s pointed stare.

“And Mr. i will be protecting them,” Vivi said.

“Then it’s a good thing we ran into them now, so we can make a plan.” Zoro touched Luffy’s shoulder to reassure him, and hopefully everyone else.

“We’ll be ready next time.”

The outline of the desert island had been visible for hours, but never felt closer than when they stepped over the puddles left behind by the fantastic Mr. 2, an enemy who minutes ago had been close enough to touch. For such a young crew, a hopeful collection of friends, they never struggled to believe they were ready to face a Warlord of the Sea and the people under his command who had killed before and were prepared to do so again upon order.

They didn’t know how it would open their world, from villains who pillage to usurpers who the world is the goal. ____ ___ __ _

Back on the swan ship, River hung up Mr. 2’s sopping wet coat to dry by the window, offering them a dry one, identical, of course, while the latter corrected their makeup with a damp rag.

“You’re awfully excitable for a devil fruit eater that was just fished from the ocean,” he said and brushed some invisible dirt off their sleeves while they turned to embrace his hands with theirs.

“I made new friends.”

“No wonder you’re so lively. Their sail seemed familiar, actually,” he wondered aloud, only half-listening to Mr. 2 rattle on about the pirates, something about a tenuki, cute girls, and a boy in a strawhat.

Until he gasped.

“Mr. 2, that’s it. You—you’re a genius!”

“Of course I am, wait wha—” They spluttered when River placed a firm smooch to their cheek, head spinning wild like a runaway roulette wheel.

“I’M A GENIUS!”

River dashed away to his room, ignoring the shouts from the deck about the feast, and snatched the newspaper from the table. The papers were no match for his impatient flipping, now rumpled, torn at the corners, but the bounty pages remained intact, and he held up the printed smile of a cheery boy in a strawhat.

“Monkey D. Luffy: 30 million. A devil fruit eater.”

I’ve never hired a pirate… Can I ask this of him? How much money will it take?

His wallet thudded on the table, spilling coins that were only a fraction of his stash at the casino. Between his jewelry and extensive wardrobe, he would make the Strawhat a very wealthy kid if only he agreed to help them. And if it’s not enough, well, they can have his labor too. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Pirates won’t refuse money. That much I know.

Nearby in Nanohana, a collection of Billions were surprised to see their snail phone light up with violet eyes and a shiny, lapis blue shell wrapped in gold station chains dotted with gems the color of a sunset sky.

“Who?” The highest ranked among them wondered before picking up.

“Hello? It’s Mr. i.”

Some gasped, others groaned, but the one holding the receiver gave a sinister smirk. They had come to the city to hopefully remove Mr. 11 from their roster, and to them it appeared a second leader spot was about to open.

“Ah, long time no speak, Mr. i. What can we do for you?”

“A ship with a ram’s head mast is coming to land. I want to know when it makes port.

“Is that all? Should we greet them—”

“NO, no. Do not approach. That’s an order. He steeled his voice to seem commanding, enough to deter all but a few.

“Expect a call then.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.” Click, went the receiver as the snail fell sleep.

“Tch, how spoiled,” The Billion griped. “You heard him. Find the ram’s head ship, and the rest of you: the marines are on their way. Let’s greet Mr. 11 appropriately.”

River hurried to tuck away his snail and throw on his coat, carefully pulling his hair out of the way of the furred collar. The time until Operation Utopia was down to hours, and he wouldn’t get a do-over if their plan failed.

Perhaps I should change clothes. I can’t be recognized in the port by any of the Billions if I’m going to try to meet the Strawhats.

“River baby! Come eat, the fish is almost—” The ballerina stopped, suddenly struggling to swallow the bubble of wine in their throat when they saw him emerge in Alabastan linens, limbs decorated with gold, and face veiled by Oasin blue.

“I’ve never seen you look like such a local.” They placed noisy, lipstick smooches on the back of his hand.

“Easy, Mr. 2,” he deflected, though his cheeks were already pink. “I’m afraid I won’t be joining you for dinner.”

“Be still, my heart—WHAT?!”

“Something’s come up, an emergency. I have to get to port immediately.”

“But we aren’t docking until the other side of the island.”

They and the crew followed the flutter of his linens to the bow, watched him brace a sandal foot on the railing to hoist himself up.

“You’re not going to JUMP, are you? Let’s talk about this, baby, let me take you—”

“It’s okay, Mr. 2.” He crouched to return their gentle boop to his nose. “You keep going to Rainbase, and I’ll meet you there. Yes?”

His easy smile, tacked with a wink, disarmed any hope to convince him to reconsider.

“Be safe! Oh, please, be safe!” Mr. 2 watched him go down into the water with barely a splash from the experienced swimmer.

They turned back to their crew, many of whom leaned over the railing, curious to witness the strength of his stroke, as fast as any fish even against the drag of his clothes.

“We’ll rejoin him in Rainbase. What are we waiting for? Full speed!”

‘Yes, Mr. 2!’ ____ ___ __ _

His snail phone began to ring as he rung the seawater from his clothes on the shore, and he waved awkwardly to the people standing at the port that witnessed him emerge from the ocean like a merman who’s been gifted legs in exchange for a wish.

“They’ve arrived in Nanohana. They must be planning to travel along the shore after they resupply,” said the snail from beneath the little feathered cap of the Billion on the line.

“I’ve arrived myself. Thank you, sirs.” He clicked off the receiver, though he couldn’t spot the ram’s head ship among the other boats at port.

They must have dropped anchor inside one of the alcoves, attempting to stay hidden.

Shouting from the shore startled him to hide his face, securing his veil while he watched marines bark orders at each other from the blue warship that took up most of the length of the harbor.

Best for me to stay hidden too then.

Marines were likely the last place Baroque Works would attempt to infiltrate in their schemes, but he supposed he can’t be too careful. After 15 months, he struggled to understand the extent of Crocodile’s influence, as well as imagine what would become of the island if their operation went unhindered.

The sun began to bear down as the afternoon went on, and after hours of winding up street after street, chasing glimpses of the crew’s path through the city, he rested in the shade between buildings to stretch out his sore feet.

“I haven’t worn sandals in forever... Where did they go?” He sighed.

From his hiding place, he leaned out to see a boisterous merchant walking the market in front of his stall, waving around a poorly painted piece of fruit.

“A relic of ancient power! One bite offers one thousand years of life, and you, yes YOU, can take home the entire apple for only 1000 berries!”

“Not this bit”, River groaned as he peeked around the corner to attempt to spot the Strawhats among bargain hunters and pushy merchants. There they stood, the long nose and tenuki, the most willing customers he’s ever seen, in shambles over the apple merchant’s impassioned spiel.

”Nami! Nami, can we have 1000 berries? This man is selling magic apples!”

“Absolutely not!”

River blanched, suddenly woozy, and not from the sun. “I… may have overestimated them.”

Shik. A sharp blade pressed against his throat from behind.

“You’ve been following us since port,” a male voice said, his short green hair and dark eyes visible in the blades reflection.

“I really haven’t,” River’s chuckle hitched when the blade pressed tighter, “I mean, you’re right. I have been looking for you all… You must be the Pirate Hunter, Roronoa Zoro. Though I’m not a pirate.”

“That won’t save you.”

“I have a question to ask your captain.”

“Captain’s not here.”

“Are you kidding me?” He felt Zoro tense against his back, but River just groaned a loud, dramatic sigh. “It won’t mean anything unless I ask the captain. Where is he?”

“He got held up. And I never said you could.”

“I want to ask for his help. He’s strong, isn’t he? As you must be.”

“Zoro, don’t wander too—oh!” Nami gasped in alarm when she saw him at River’s throat. He let him push the sword away with a finger, only after he had a moment to process his request.

“He says he wants our help.”

“The newspapers say your captain is the strongest pirate in the East Blue. I want to hire him to defeat the strongest man on our island.”

“You mean—”

Vivi’s appearance from behind Nami took the word’s from all of their mouths. She and River stared for a moment before she averted her eyes, fear overridden by shame to face the man she helped to kidnap from his island.

“So it’s true you’re a traitor, Miss Wednesday,” River said, and relief fell from his lungs. “Thank goodness.”

Sanji appeared at her side, too close. “You know the princess—?”

Nami’s fist came down hard on his head. “SANJI!”

“Princess?” River looked back to the young girl.

“I’m sorry… Mr. Faustina.”

He smiled after a long moment, a bittersweet thing. “Strong girl. Abandoning your throne to slum it with us, and searching for a cure for our sick island... If you’re here then I’m too late. You’ve already secured their help.”

“Why are you here, Mr. Faustina? You’re Crocodile’s left hand.” She said, her distrust of him coming back to furrow her brows.

The darkness that washed over his face laid heavy over his eyes, sorrowful and bleeding vengeance at the corners. “Crocodile must be stopped, and I will play my part to the end. I can help you, but only a little. Get to Rainbase on your own and maybe we can win before the war begins.”

“There’s no way we can trust you,” Zoro said.

”It’s not your decision, is it—” River was interrupted by a resonating crash from the street over, the sound of Captain Smoker being hurled through rows of houses with the force of a rubber boy’s feral hunger, and taking a Whitebeard commander with him through every wall.

”Luffy!” Nami cried, correct in her assumption that explosions and commotion usually pointed towards their captain.

“It’s his,” River said, his smirk doing nothing to comfort their distrust of him. ____ ___ __ _

Gone before the Strawhats could further protest his involvement, the streets pushed against him as River rushed into the gaping hole that was the newly made front door of the restaurant.

“I’ve found you, Strawhat Lu—where’d you go?”

He looked around the destroyed diner and finally at the flabbergasted server. “Where did he go? The strawhat boy.”

“That way, I think. He and his friends all ran off without paying.”

“You’re joking… Okay.” River scratched his hair where the sun wore on his nerves. “A minor setback. How much do they owe?”

The server choked on his own spit when he pulled out his heavy wallet, the sun glittering off the coins as it drifted in the camel-sized hole. “They… also broke my wall.”

“Ah, of course. This should cover your expenses.” He grabbed more, and held out a handful of coins that tried to escape from between his fingers.

“And… and my friend’s wall. Next door.”

River raised an eyebrow.

And the server stared back.

Pleading eyes, and a vein in River’s forehead.

“Just—Take the whole thing, I don’t have time for this!”

“Oh—” They caught the wallet where it was shoved into their hands, cradling the handfuls of gold that spilled out of the pouch. “Come back anytime, stranger! You eat for free!”

But River didn’t hear him, tearing down the busy market street to attempt to catch Strawhat and whoever chased him. Friends? Unlikely, unless their version of hello was property damage.

Passed stalls, over stoops, under clotheslines, he finally came across a man his age that browsed a fruit stand with a brindled owl on his shoulder.

“Excuse me? Please tell me, did a boy with a strawhat run by here?” He stopped to question him, not a local if his baggy, foreign clothes were telling, along with the sharp, angled face of both the exotic bird and their owner.

If River had been educated elsewhere, or possessed more experience with the outside world, he would have paled to realize the bands on his arms were made of seastone.

“Strawhat boy? You don’t need to know where he went,” the man said plainly, deciding himself the conversation was over and both bird and owner went back to examining the fruit in the cart.

“But you did see him. Tell me which way he went, I’ll p—I can’t pay you. But I asked you a question and you admitted to knowing the answer.”

“Go home.” The man’s plain, almost bored voice turning hard to command obedience.

His answer startled River to silence, both men staring at each other for what must have been uncomfortable if not frightening moments for the fruit vendor.

A burst of flames to the sky broke their standoff, as well as answering River’s question without anything more to do with the strange man. He refrained from curling his lip, if only to not find out what his anger looked like, and chased the fire as he filed away the man’s appearance the way mice remember the smell of an owl.

Dispiriting eyes, the color of old, spilled blood, that burn from behind the lenses of his sunglasses. Dark hair slicked back over the crown of his head. And an owl.

River ran after the source of the fire but the flames and smoke easily outran him, unnatural, like they were people and not phenomenon.

“Shit! Where did they go?” He stopped at a cross street.

“There he is! Mr. i!” A crowd of Billions appeared to point at him.

“Ah! What is WRONG with this city?!” His robes flapped in the wind of his—yet another—hasty retreat. He couldn’t have known the Billions were chasing Strawhat too, though Ace and Luffy made quick work of the first wave, and luck pushed all of the separate parties towards the common ground of the harbor.

“Luffy, most pirate captains know where they parked their ship,” Ace scolded him gently while they walked.

“My navigator, she knows where I left it.”

“You’re a mess,” he laughed as they left the city streets to a series of stairs that led down to the pier.

“Get him!” The humiliated Billions yelled from atop the hill.

“Man, those guys don’t know when to quit, do they?” Ace looked back over his shoulder.

“WAIT! Wait, Luffy! Strawhat Luffy!”

The brothers turned to see River waving his arms as he sprinted at them from a side street, the Billions almost overtaking his voice when they yelled ‘Get Mr. i too! The Number seats are ours!’

“Mr. i? Like Mr. 2?” Luffy bristled, suddenly so unlike the cheery boy in the poster, and River skidded to a stop. He showed his empty hands to prove he was unarmed, well, at least he wasn’t holding his weapon.

“I come in peace! Peace, please. I want to ask you a question.”

Rubbery arms fell docile at his sides, the fire gone faster than it came. “Oh. Go ahead.”

So strange, River thought while he caught his breath.

Meanwhile, on the deck of the Merry, Nami pointed towards the sidewalk. “Look, there’s that guy! And Luffy, he’s with his brother!”

“I’ll get him—hey!” Zoro nearly snapped at the cook that put a hand on his shoulder.

“Not yet, stupid, those two can handle themselves. You’ll just be in the way.”

River paused to acknowledge the yelling coming from the ship in the harbor.

“… Anyway—My name is River Faustina.”

“Vivi told us who you are.” There it was again, that indifferent voice from the bright Strawhat boy that had sweat beading on his temple.

“Of course. I’m sorry… Crocodile has betrayed me. I will help you defeat him, if you’ll let me. Please, I would like to help you, and I can offer you—”

“Oh, sure! Why not?” Luffy cut him off, grinning wide as his arm was already reaching out into the harbor to grab hold of his ship, gone in a rubbery snap and a wild cackle.

“Wha—just like that?!” He called after the rubber boy, feeling a hot flush of embarrassment on his cheeks when Luffy waved goodbye like River was the one being outrageous and strange. Beside him, Ace just laughed, so pleased to be back among the absurdity of family.

“After all the running I’ve done today,” River sighs, too tired to notice Ace studying the side of his face.

“Would you like me to take you to the boat? Sounds like those guys don’t like you too much,” he jerked his thumb at the Billions racing down the hill, and River found himself smiling at the show of chivalry in Ace’s offered palm.

“They’re nothing I can’t handle,” he said, pleased his smirk was returned. “I’m going a different way.”

“Catch you later, River.”

Ace disappears with a mock salute on the back of a flame, his back, River realized, somehow more spectacular than Luffy’s cartoony stretching, and the sight of an ally, a real ally sailing down the coast beckons him to wonder if the spark behind his ribs is hope.

For months, laden by despair, he had been willing to accept comfort in traces of optimism moonlighting as joy, but that wasn’t good enough anymore. Not when they were so close. And though he knows the journey back to Raindinners will be hell on his feet, hot on his scalp, he welcomes the little fire beginning in his belly.

#one piece #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x oc #sir crocodile x reader #mirage in the desert #ao3 fanfic #oc fanfiction #male reader #silkendandelion #x reader #x oc

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eccentricink · 1 year

Text

A Tuft-Tailed Infiltration - Act I - Mephistopheles

Leather fabric lay taught upon his torso, highlighting his physique under the sultry lights of The Fall. His verdant eyes glowed like deadly fireflies within the club’s dim atmosphere as they raked my figure. Who would have thought a Bunny Boy could ever look so vicious?

—

Beneath the scarlet Devildom sky and high above the walls of the Royal Academy Of Diavolo upon the highest spire of the grand castle rest the unresting RAD Newspaper Club room -if one could call it a room-. It shared higher semblance to a miniature loft mansion, with countless rooms used as studies for the ink-stained club members and even more that contained the printing presses that birthed the newspapers themselves; all jutting out from the tower and leering down upon the rest of the demon world.

Atop it all sat the study of the former club head, his station taking up what seemed like an entire floor. It was a mess of paper, spilled ink and a few odd apparati tossed about. A trio of bay windows on three different walls struck out from the room and let in beams of garnet light.

And in undeniable likeness to the room, he paced back and forth within it, adding and removing various objects to the bags scattered about him, having broken in a few minutes prior. His uniform long disregarded, he stood in his usual noblewear, a cane at his hip and a satchel sound across his shoulders.

‘With this my preparations are complete, ready to go on a stakeout, my beloved journalist?’, Mephistopheles said in an air of charismatic pomp as he packed yet another camera battery into his satchel, extending a gloved hand towards me.

‘Almost ready M’lord’,I replied in taunt as I took his hand, in turn he tugged me close and snaked an arm around my waist.

‘Hm, and here I was thinking we were closer than titles’, He replied with faux offence as I brought my free hand to the side of his neck. The light claret rays that shone through the windows encapsulated his features and brought the mirage of a blush across his face to my gaze; viridian eyes that locked onto mine framed by loose amethyst hair, all above a coy smile.

Or was the light a convenient mask for a pre-existing fluster?

Before my mind could wander further, his smile grew more cunning and he let out a chuckle before tightening his grip on me and spinning the two of us around.

He swept his legs with the most agile of footwork and and moved his arms with effortless grace, and before I knew it, we were ballroom-dancing across the study, twirling in grace and exquisite tandem to a tune as existent as our patience.

‘A dance? Are you sure this is the right time?’

‘Oh journalist of mine, it’s always the right time for a dance’

‘What about you then, are you ready for the mission?’, I asked as we separated for a moment and he planted a kiss upon my knuckles before pulling me back into his embrace.

‘I simply require the microphone D.D.D attachment and the scroll, you do recall the plan, I hope?’

‘Oh no I don't quite remember the plan, I don’t think your past sixteen explanations were adequate’

In response, he spun me about him with a scoff.

‘Just kidding Mephi, Our sources have informed us that Mammon has yet again roped his brothers into working as bunny boys at the Fall; this time for the club’s elite and the club’s elite alone. The two of us are going to go there disguised as Thirteen and Raphael in an attempt to catch them off guard and get a story for the paper juicier than a ripe Beelzefruit.’, I recited, choosing to avoid pointing out the ever-so-slight pout that traced his face at the words ‘club’s elite’.

He hummed in satisfaction nonetheless and I felt his pulse pick up underneath my palm, and with that so did his pace as we broke out into a full waltz.

‘Oh I can imagine the headlines now’, He said, eyes beginning to wander. “The ‘great’ lords of the devildom have yet again been swindled into working as mere performers, is this a sign of unstable leadership? Can we trust demons in skanky bunny outfits to pilot our great realm?” ’, His voice dripped with sadistic mirth as the words escaped his lips, no doubt already visualising what would transpire within his mind.

In his brief moment of fantastical distraction, I seized the moment.

A meticulous exercise of footwork and a well-timed pull accompanied with a snatch and slight of hand, and I had him dipped in a grande low finale.

‘Your microphone attachment’, and I held out the device to him with my left hand as I supported his entire weight at the back of his head on my right with a smile that could rival even his best sly grin.

For a wisp of a moment, his face betrayed true shock, before he stitched his composure back together and nimbly rose to his proper height with a rose-tinted gentle smile, tucking the microphone into his satchel.

He planted another kiss upon my knuckles before we broke apart a final time.

‘And now, all that’s left is the scroll’, he said as he walked over to a teetering and precarious stack of books beside a stuffed bookshelf, extracting a narrow box from the centre and causing the stack to shudder.

‘The sheer things I had to do to get my hands on this’, he muttered as he sauntered towards me while unsealing the protective case.

At this point he was at my side, and I peered down into the box. Inside was a yellowed, scuffed up loose roll of parchment charred black at the bottom with a single rotting wooden handle. It may have once been a fine document with proper ends and crisp paper, but it was stark that this sheet had seen its fair share of weather; for now one could only describe it as nothing more than ancient rubble.

Mephisto gingerly lifted it from its boxed confines and discarded the box to his side. His brow furrowed with concentration as he unfurled the scroll, as if it would deteriorate into dust with a single misstep -which, it most likely would- to reveal a dull and discoloured scrawl, barely noticeable to my human eyes and let alone readable. I squinted hard in an attempt to decipher the language it was written in, to which Mephisto must have taken notice;

For he said, ‘Ancient Aramaic, that’s what this is. The language is so dense and archaic that the majority of even demons fail to comprehend it. I stand as one of the only beings in current existence capable of comprehending it.’ As he reached the end of his sentence, pomp and pride crept their way from his chest into his mind and escaped intertwined in his words.

Long had I already admired and respected Mephisto, but I couldn't help myself being brought to a different degree of that admiration and respect at his revelation; I could feel it simmering and flowing within my chest cavity, lightly pushing outward beneath my chest itself.

With a demeanour of light perturbe set within his irises he locked eyes with me, as if to ask, ‘Are you ready for this?’

With my smirk and a head nod as a definite response, he took a low breath and began to read off the scroll.

~The two of us would typically spend hours alone together, be it within the golden confines of the library or upon horseback as we trotted through pastures littered with wild flora in tandem with each other. During these occasions, there was seldom a juncture of silence between us, the air constantly vibrating to the tune of either his or my vocals. As a result, I came to know his voice well -every rasped laugh, passion-filled ramble and anguished cry- I knew them all.

Or so I had thought.

The sheer sound of the incantation was what struck hardest and most apparent, causing me to stumble backwards. His tone deep, detached and vigorous as the spell itself rode along his voice and flew through the room in a luminescent and formidable cacophony of spirals and bracelets; and now I knew exactly what he meant when he said what he did about the language not even a minute earlier.

Slashes of inexplicable alarm struck me as hard and fast as a ringmaster’s whip.

In a frenzy I turned towards Mephisto, only to find that his eyes had become glazed over in wisps of green and that his horns and wings had broken free from his human form, the pair of pairs partly bioluminescent in vivid chartreuse. My gaze swept his figure and came to unrest upon his feet, there he was, levitating off the ground without the aid of his wings.

Not only was the fact that he now no longer touched the ground brought to my attention, I now discerned deep purple mist emanating from the scroll and pooling down upon the floor, not unlike dense cursed incense. It slithered across the leaves of paper on the floor and clashed against the walls of the study like furious waves upon a cliffside.

My knees betrayed my weight to the ground as my muscles snatched and yanked at my flesh, and my bones turned into what felt like clay in the hands of a sculptor. A thousand hellfire ants seemed to work at my eyes, tearing, ripping away and replacing my iris.

My lungs seemed to forget about the existence of inhaling, and for a moment of true terror I feared that the worst would transpire.

And then silence.

The mist cleared and the panic stopped, as abrupt as the way it struck.

I closed my eyes.

A heartbeat passed.

Then two.

Then three.

And when my breathing slowed, I creaked my eyelids apart, and my body was not my own.

Looking down, the first part of my new form to grace my eyes was my hands;

Lightly tanned calloused skin snugly fitted to slender appendages.

Another breath and I felt the skin of my abdomen contract. Sinew abs lined my form, in complete exposure to the air of the study.

As I brought myself into a kneel, I truly felt the transformation in its entirety. Every movement brought new, cold skin to feeling, as if I had been deprived of flesh itself and forced into the skin of another -and that was exactly what had happened- I realised.

‘Mm’, my thoughts were brought to a halt as a light groan emanated from across the room in a voice ever so slightly familiar.

Upon the ground where Mephisto once stood sprawled Thirteen the Reaper, or at least a portrait-perfect imitation of her. ‘She’ also brought herself to her knees in a groggy fashion as her tri-coloured eyes seemingly adjusted to themselves, glancing around the expanse of the study before settling upon me and squinting in a coy smirk.

‘You do make a wonderful Raphael, dearest journalist’

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

And that sends off Act I, progress has been slow, and shall be slow, at least until academics let up enough to give my quill breathing room.

To my readers;

Thank you, and stay patient.

-E.I

#obey me mephistopheles #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me x reader #obey me swd #omswd #eccentricink

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3llisarts · 3 months

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Note - This is my first time publishing a finished Chapter in a minute! This is based loosely off of an RP I’m doing with my best friend < 3 and with that I hope you all enjoy

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Chapter One

Months had passed since the battle of Egypt, where the Fallen had made his grand return and failed to defeat Optimus. Then again, the Decepticon cause had suffered multiple losses that day. The Fallen himself, to name one- and another, much more painful loss, Nitor. The lion-like cybertronian who was Wraith’s minion, similar to Ravage, who’d also met his demise that day. Wraith had been locked in a firefight with Ironhide, the Autobot’s weapons specialist, meanwhile, Rhys had taken off in hot pursuit of Sam Witwicky and his girlfriend, Mikaela Banes. The assassin had been closing in when Mirage thwarted her attempt, the cherry-red Autobot extending the blades along his arms and taking a wild swipe at Rhys.

Nitor had come out of nowhere, fastening his claws into Mirage’s upper back, throwing the Autobot off, and allowing Rhys time to get away. The small assassin was knocked backward into the sands, watching as the duo’s shadows were cast across the remains of an old building.

Mirage flung Nitor off and the massive metallic lion crashed to the ground in a heap, inches from Rhy’s feet. He rose steadily, shaking out his thick mane- comprised of thin metal strands- as a low growl rumbled in his chest. Nitor stood between Mirage and Rhys, his sharp tail lashing like a whip before he bared his teeth and leaped. The sound of him colliding with Mirage was thunderous, not unlike that of a high-speed car collision, before Mirage started up his rifle. Rhys was frozen in her spot, her dark brown eyes wide as she realized the direction their fight was heading.

While Nitor was one hell of a fighter, Mirage was bigger and faster. The red Autobot’s arm blades caught Nitor in the shoulder and the lion-like cybertronian collapsed, red energon seeping from his shoulder. Everything in Rhys’s body screamed at her to get up and run, but she couldn’t. She felt like she’d been rooted to her spot, so much so she could feel the individual grains of sand moving beneath her boots when she shuffled her feet.

Little droplets of red Energon splattered onto the desert sands as Nitor lowered his head. Despite his battered state, he was bent on protecting Rhys. The same way he’d been when he and Wraith had found her in the wreckage of her parent’s apartment when she was six years old. The cyber lion had laid at Rhys’s bedside, his rose-red eyes locked on her tiny, battered form as the doctor Wraith had ‘asked’ to help Rhys, monitored her condition. Nitor had all but been Rhys’s support as she recovered- laying at the foot of her bed or letting her lean against his powerful shoulders for support.

Rhys’s chest heaved with panting breaths as she watched Nitor stagger back and forth, “No- no-!” Nitor threw back his head and roared a challenge, his sledgehammer-sized paws splayed apart before he bunched his muscles and jumped. At the same time, Mirage whipped his arm back and caught the metallic feline clean in the neck. Red Energon splattered across the sand as Rhys watched in disbelief. Nitor staggered back and forth, his rose-red eyes flickering in and out of focus. He collapsed with a loud, guttural groan, his chin resting on his paws as a thin river of Energon seeped from his powerful jaws.

Rhys threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around Nitor and burying her face into his mane. She didn’t mind the sharp ends of his mane pricked her cheeks, which were quickly dampening with tears, “Nitor get up! Fucking get up!” The cyber lion gave a weak groan, nudging his face against Rhys’s bicep. A soft chuff vibrated deep in the creature’s throat, as a bit of red Energon smeared across Rhys’s forearm. “Please! We gotta go-,” Rhys trailed off, seeing Mirage’s shadow over her, blocking out the sun.

Rhys flinched, anticipating Mirage to resume his earlier mission and take her out once and for all. But the pain never came.

A loud whirring sound caught Rhys’s attention, and a blast of dark grey cannon fire whipped by, hitting Mirage square on the right side. Wraith- the inky-colored Decepticon watched the Autobot get flung to the side, crashing down the desert dunes in a heap.

Rhys woke up after that.

Bolting upright in bed, Rhys fought to get out of the thick, pristine white bedsheets like a bobcat with its foot caught in a trap. She drew her knees into her chest as she realized where she was- in her bedroom in her fellow Decepticon liaison-, Dylan Gould’s estate. Rhys slid out of bed and padded across the polished hardwood floor, making little sound as she moved. She carefully squeaked open her closet door, feeling around in the dark until she was sure she’d found her old Super Bee t-shirt, the soft fabric a dead giveaway. She pulled on a pair of blue jeans to boot, and one of her sports bras.

Rhys swallowed thickly and wiped the sweat off of her forehead, as a look of frustration crossed her face. Today was the second time in a week that she’d had that stupid fucking nightmare, and it was just as vivid as the first time. The assassin fumbled with the revolving wheel of her gun safe and swung the heavy door open, wrapping one hand around the edge to not have it slam into her bedroom wall. The last thing she wanted was to wake Dylan up and explain why she was up at… precisely 3:20 AM. Rhys grunted, cracking her back as she grabbed her combat knife and slid it into the little sheath holster at her hip, concealing it with a black hoodie that was about two sizes too big.

Then again, something else she didn’t need was Soundwave catching her either. She’d been coming back from a late-night walk after the first time she’d had that nightmare when the silver Mercedes SLS all but materialized out of the dark. The silver snitch- of course, he’d gone right to Dylan on the matter. Rhys couldn’t quite blame the Decepticon, though- he was like the equivalent of Wraith. Loyal to Dylan, and then Rhys, if he so found the time.

Funny enough, Rhys got along with Soundwave. And he, her. But Dylan and Wraith were another story entirely.

Rhys slipped out into the hallway, her hands stuffed into the pocket of her big black hoodie. She knew better than to put her boots on, lest she risk waking Dylan up with the thick fucking soles thumping down the stairs. And so, the small assassin slid on the pair of soft grey footie socks and flitted down the stairs like a ghost. So far so good- then again, she wasn’t about to drop her cautionary act in favor of a brief cocky span. No- that’s what led to Soundwave catching her the first time.

Staring up at the balcony overlooking the foyer, Rhys frowned, believing her eyes had been playing tricks on her with the shadows. But when she confirmed no one was up there, she crept down the hallway with her boots in one hand. She hummed, fiddling with the alarm system that was mounted to the left wall, beside the two glass doors that led out to the garden.

Two soft answering beeps confirmed the system was now down, then again Rhys didn’t have to worry about anyone breaking in. Wraith was parked out in the driveway, and Soundwave was beside him. Two very dangerous, high-ranking Decepticons. Rhys slipped out into the garden, closing the door behind her. The cool, early morning air was rather comforting, too. A nice change from Rhys’s bedroom- as she stared over her shoulder at the massive driveway- well, what was visible from the garden gate on the other side of the garden. Rhys could see Wraith’s big, blacked-out grille- and she knew it wouldn’t take much to wake him. She planned on doing so- just not right now.

Rhys turned and dashed to the garden gate, at the same time Wraith’s lights kicked on. There was a crackling sound, as the Decepticon’s human form materialized out of thin air. He appeared as a big man, with fair skin, rich dark brown eyes, and thick brown hair. For this morning’s appearance, the Decepticon was dressed in a form-fitting blue t-shirt and black jeans. “Little spider… where are you going? Are you alright?” Wraith asked, the European accent of his particularly thick. Rhys managed a tiny nod, “‘m alright, old friend~.” It wasn’t the full truth, nor was it a full lie either. Wraith cocked his head, his rose-red eyes gleaming in the dark, “would you like me to accompany you?”

“I’ll be okay,” Rhys replied and she offered Wraith a slight smile, “I just plan on going to the gas station.” She knew she could handle herself, though she had to admit that having her mentor come with her was rather comforting.

Wraith’s response was a little nod, “Very well. Be careful, little spider.” Rhys smiled softly, “I will, old friend,” and with that, the small assassin turned her attention to the vines growing along the walls of Dylan’s garden. Rhys grunted, reaching up as far as she could and grabbing one of the vines. She began to haul herself up, only pausing when her right foot slipped and she almost fell. The assassin’s breath hitched in her throat as she regained her footing, and resumed her climb.

Rhys pulled herself up to the top of the wall and sat down, gazing at the dark streets before her. Dylan only had a few neighbors, a few streets down. All rich assholes who were too wrapped up in their own problems to pay any attention to the night sky-colored Decepticon and his human apprentice living with Dylan.

Rhys looked over her shoulder at Dylan’s estate, and a small frown grazed her lips. She knew it was a matter of time before the CEO found out about her continued late-night/early-morning antics. He’d called her out on it after Soundwave caught her the first time, and Rhys had decided to lay low for a couple of weeks following the incident. The assassin knew better than to try and go out immediately. Then again, the stupid nightmare had been rather consistent.

The first day after Rhys and Wraith had returned from Egypt, Rhys had slept for a grand total of eleven hours. She wasn’t one for drinking away problems, especially given the fact that alcohol destroyed one’s judgment. And as an assassin, that was a gamble she couldn’t afford to take. She’d tried one can of Minute Man IPA while on a hit in North Carolina, in order to blend in with the rest of the partygoers before she realized she hated the taste and promptly chucked it into the trash can in the back of the bar. Nor was Rhys a big smoker.

Rhys had woken up that day and jumped into the shower. It’d taken two separate rinses before she really got all of the sand out of her thick, dark brown hair.

Rhys swung one leg over the wall and grasped onto the vines before she began her descent. The vines on the outside of the garden wall ended about three-quarters the way down, which left about a four-foot drop. Rhys stared hard at the ground a moment, her brows furrowed in a look of concentration. She dropped with a muffled grunt, standing up with a careful stretch. In her nearly twenty-year career as a Decepticon liaison- as an assassin, she’d perfected the art of dropping down from high places.

Growing up amongst killer robots, also meant you quickly learned how to move around without being detected. Then again, it didn’t take Rhy all that long to climb the ranks.

It was times like this when Rhys missed Nitor the most. From his rumbling breaths, from the sound of his big, metallic paws on the asphalt. A frown grazed Rhys’s lips as she made her way down the darkened street- eventually, coming to see the neon lights of the 7/11 ahead.

The little bell in the doorway gave away Rhys’ entry, as she slipped to the back of the convenience store. The assassin pulled her hood up over her head, fiddling with the hoodie strings for a moment. She pulled the fridge door back, enjoying the chilly air that wafted out before she reached in and grabbed a couple of cans of Monster. Ultra Paradise, Watermelon, and Zero are her three main favorites. Though she wasn’t picky- she couldn’t be, not with her job, anyway. The assassin would take whatever caffeine she could get.

Satisfied with her choices, Rhys made her way to the checkout counter. The attendant, an older woman with fair skin and heavy blue eyeshadow, glanced up at Rhys’s approach. “Haven’t seen ya in a minute, honey,” The older woman mused, ringing up the can of Ultra Paradise first. “I’ve been kinda busy with school,” Rhys replied smoothly, offering the gas station attendant her best smile, “so I figured I’d come by and stock up on my favorites.” The older woman uttered a soft sound in response, nodding as she rang in the Watermelon next, setting the red and silver can down beside its green neighbor.

“Semester goin’ alright?” The attendant asked as she finished ringing in the cans, setting the Zero by the other two. “Mhm,” Rhys began, “got finals coming up!” She heaved a soft laugh, “So I’ll probably be back for more.” The older woman cracked a smile in response, as Rhys paid for her drinks, “well~, good luck, hon. And I’m looking forward to seein’ ya again.” Rhys stashed the change in the pocket of her blue jeans, as she grabbed the bag with her drinks in one hand. Sparing one last look at the gas station attendant, Rhys opened the door and stepped out into the night once more.

Rhys jogged the majority of the way back to Dylan’s estate, holding tightly to the brown plastic bag as she began the climb over his garden wall. She heaved herself to the top with a grunt, carefully picking her way back down. So far, she’d managed to sneak in successfully. She hadn’t even alerted Soundwave- which was good, lest the silver snitch go to Dylan again. The assassin sprinted across the lawn to the other garden gate, as Wraith’s human form materialized out of the dark. His red gaze was thoughtful, “it is good to see you back, little spider~.” “It’s good to be back, old friend,” Rhys replied with a small smile, “I take it- no one else knows I left?” Wraith shook his head, “no one. The pest is still asleep.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Rhys murmured and Wraith nodded, watching the young woman make her way back into Dylan’s estate.

By the time morning came- or rather, late morning, Rhys woke up. She hadn’t bothered to change out of her early morning gas station run outfit, having crawled under the covers and passed out moments later. Still, the assassin made an effort to brush her hair before she grabbed the can of Ultra Watermelon from the bag and then rolled downstairs.

Dylan was downstairs in the kitchen, his chef having just made breakfast. The man looked up as Rhys padded into the kitchen, “You know… I was wondering when you’d be coming down.” Rhys raised an eyebrow, taking a particularly long sip of her drink while holding Dylan’s gaze, “I usually wake up late.” “Mhm,” Dylan said in seeming agreement, the look on his face thoughtful, “and do you usually run out to the 7/11 at three in the morning, too?” Rhys almost choked on the Watermelon she’d been working on, feeling the fizzy watermelon liquid bubble up, “how did you…?”

“I think you forget, I’ve got eyes everywhere,” Dylan said softly, and Rhys knew exactly how he’d caught her. Laser Beak, Soundwave’s surviving minion. Of course, she’d completely forgotten about the bird-like Decepticon.

“You can be as mad as you want,” Dylan mused, “but that still doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got to be careful. Wraith too.”

Rhys took a long sip from her Ultra Watermelon before she spoke, “I am careful!” She insisted. Dylan raised an eyebrow, “Really? With the way you strolled right into the 7/11?” Rhys knocked back the rest of her Monster and wiped the fizzy red liquid off of her upper lip, “I’m gonna dismantle that fuckin’ bird.” Dylan made a small sound of amusement, “You went through all that trouble, and you forgot about Laser Beak-.”

#rhys thompson #transformers bayverse #transformers dark of the moon #transformers oc #Dylan Gould #Rhys and Dylan #Transformers movies #Transformers RP

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elita-1ine · 10 months

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MIRAGE X MY OWN CHARACTER FANFICTION PT.1: The autobots just arrived to my planet—Earth, well, maybe not just arrived but it all began when my friend Melissa's boyfriend discovered a “possessed car” slash alien robot . Personally I found all the bots interesting and some of them even sexy as Melissa shared pics with me that she snuck and took on her phone . One in particular I had the hots for, name was Mirage. He doesn’t know me yet though, none of the bots do, but tomorrow afternoon I’ll be going to meet them with my best friend, Melissa at the junk yard. I’m super nervous and stoked at the same time. Just thinking of coming face to face with the Hot Rod I’ve only seen photos of made my heart flutter. I hope he will like me .

**************

Part 1: Meeting the Mechs

“What do you think he will think of me?” I asked my best friend, Melissa. “I don’t think he will think anything, except that you’re a new friend.” She replied. “Besides, I’ve heard that mechs don’t even get romantically or physically involved with humans anyways, unless they find them very attractive.” Melissa sighed. “I feel the same way, I’m curious to know what it would be like..” She’d noticed my faltered expression.

“But you can never be too sure, nothing is always absolutely for certain. Mirage for one is really laid back and friendly though. Just take it easy and get to know him first. But I must warn you, he’s a big jokester” Melissa giggled. “I think he’ll like you.”

****

The next day Melissa and I met with the Generation 1 mechs at the secluded junk yard. It was just a infinite amount of space littered with old rusty decaying cars and junked parts. No one hardly ever came here.

The mechs greeted us and Melissa formally introduced me specifically to Mirage first. “This is who I’ve been telling you about, my best friend Eliza.” I extended a shaky hand out to shake one of his servos. When he took my hand, he had a very firm grip. “Pleasure to meet you, Eliza.” His voice sensual and he gave my hand a swift peck with his glossa. I gasped in surprise and I noticed a smirk on his face.

Melissa and I stayed well past the evening, laughing and chilling out with the mechs. I got to talk to Mirage for a long while, and we seemed to really hit it off. Melissa was right about him being a goof ball. He could easily have you laughing your ass off for hours if you let him. By the time the moonlight had shone over the junkyard, Mirage had become closer to me, close enough for me to feel the heat radiate from his enormous frame (compared to mine). I shyed away when his blue optics caught mine, but I looked up at him through my lashes to see his soft expression.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked me softly.

“…Nothing really…” I lied. “You sure?” he challenged and I looked up to see the smug look on his face.

“It’s okay babe, I don’t judge.” He added.

“You’re hot and I want to know what it’s like to love an alien.” I blurted out quietly. The words seemed to force their way out without my brain being able to stop them. I quickly looked away from the mech as he went silent for a long while until he finally spoke. “What do you say we ditch this scene and go somewhere a little more private?”

I gulped at the thought. I had no idea what he had planned for me. “…And do what..?”

“Anything you want or anything I want. Up to you honey. “

Before I could say anything, he abruptly scooped me up in his strong arms carrying me away from Melissa and the others. I felt their stares as my face grew warm with embarrassment. “Um Mirage…where are you taking the human? You know if Optimus were here-“ “Optimus, shmotimus, we’re bored and we want to go explore somewhere else.”

“Like where ?”

“Anywhere but here, don’t worry we’ll be back, trust me for once Arcee.” I looked over at Melissa and she was grinning at us but remained silent.

“Whatever Mirage.” I could hear the eye roll in Arcee’s voice and Mirage began to swiftly carry me a few feet from where the other mechs and Melisa were behind more mountains of old cars. He hoisted me upright, firmly gripping me under my thighs until our pelvises were at a even level.

“What are you doing?!” I gasped in surprise. He only smiled as he lifted the bottom of my shirt and pulled it off of me in one swift motion. He did the same with my sweatpants and panties as well. I was now completely nude and vulnerable against his warm metal frame.

“This would be my first time with anyone…” I nervously confessed.

“Oh?” He raised a brow and his optics widened. “This ought to be a lot more fun then.” He grinned darkly. There was quiet hiss and I looked down only to be greeted by a huge silver cock with blue glowing vein like stripes along it’s length. It had to be at least 12 or 13 inches in length and maybe 5 inches in girth. I gasped at the sight of it and looked back up at him. He was gazing at me through hooded optics. “Like what you see sweetheart?” his voice was low and sensual and his optics were filled with lust. He took my hand and placed it on his cock. It felt like hard silicone except pulsing with heat. The tip of it was a shiny dull point, like a thick spiked arrow. I gasped again in terror at the thought of him tearing through my hymen and stretching me wide at the same time. “ Stroke it baby.” He groaned. He seemed just like a human male right now. I did as he asked and ran my closed hand up and down his hard length. He moaned quietly and bucked his hips slightly. “Your hands are so soft babe, You’ve got to let me take you right now…”

I gulped, “U-Um I don’t think we can do this , I’m sorry…”

Mirage opened his eyes and his face twisted up in frustration.

“I thought—"

“I know, I’m just really nervous about how bad it might hurt.” I quietly interrupted. “But…I don’t want to upset you, I’m willing to try” I added looking down. I felt a digit under my chin as he raised my face back to meet his. “ I would never hurt you, at least not intentionally.” He lowered his face closer to mine and planted a soft kiss on my lips and groaned. He leaned in to kiss me once more , parting my lips with his tongue that felt the same as his hard length that was now pressing against the skin under my right thigh. His tongue stroked mine and I returned his advances, our tongues dancing in rhythmic strokes against one another. I moaned lightly as we made out passionately, a fire growing deep within my belly. He let a servo slip down between my thighs and he began stroking my womanhood. He pressed two digits against my clit and rubbed in hard slow circles. I tensed at first and jumped in intense pleasure. He quietly took note and picked up speed, rubbing harder and faster. I let out a choked moan and squirmed against him. He took that opportunity to slip the digits into my tight heat while still brushing against my clit earning a string of moans from me. I felt his length dig into my thigh harder as it became more and more pressurized. He growled pausing his ministrations to grab his pressurized “spike” in one servo and pressed it against my hymen slowly. I bit my lip anxiously and squirmed.

“It won’t hurt for long, I promise” he whispered and shoved hard into my tight heat deeply. I screamed in pain and gripped his shoulders, my body trembling as I whimpered. “Shit…” I whispered “I’m sorry babe.” He said pausing. “Keep going” I ordered as I felt the pain subside and my body adjusting to the wide stretch. He took no extra time and slammed into me rhythmically. I moaned loudly and screamed when he pounded deeper into my womb. “Fuck yes!” he groaned, gripping me tightly. “Scream for me baby” he panted as he continued to fuck me hard. He picked up a inhuman amount of speed, pushing me over the edge. I lost all ability to think and I heard myself screaming and whining in ecstasy, my walls clenching hard as he fucked the shit out of me.

It started to become too much as my body convulsed and my eyes rolled to the back of my skull. “Oh… please…no…stop it” I whined while moaning intensely at the same time, gripping his shoulders then running my nails down to his arms. “Mm, don’t do that babe, you’ll make me even harder” Mirage whispered in my ear, grinding hard against my sweet spot he found suddenly, making my head spin. I groaned and bit my lip hard throwing my head back in extreme pleasure. “Ugh, fuck,Mirage!” I screeched as I orgasmed, my body trembling hard and my pussy spasming around his cock. “That’s it baby, come for me” he growled pounding against the spot harder. “UGHNN!” I cried out, shaking as I felt myself squirt around his cock. “Fuck” I panted loudly, still trembling from the orgasm, except he wasn’t done. “Ughh!!” I whined as he continued pounding me , a coil tightening in the pits of my belly again. His hips pounded into mine haphazardly until he groaned loudly as his cock twitched, shooting thick ropes of transfluid straight into my womb. “Damn” he panted, stilling against me then looking up to meet my gaze. “How’s that for a first time,, huh?” he asked smiling a little. I giggled weakly , my lower stomach and woman hood feeling a little sore now. “Mind-blowing.” I said quietly, kissing his glossa softly. “Mmm…you taste… sweet” he moaned lightly.

“Really, sweet??” I raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Yeah..”

“How long exactly have you been here on earth,” I started , “ You seem to think a lot like us humans.”

“Me and the others have studied your kind for a really long time, I’m not sure how many years but it’s quite a bit honestly.“ He said. “I’d rather not get into that right now though. He frowned slightly looking away. I wanted to ask why but I figured I shouldn’t as he didn’t seem to happy just then with my question.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, throwing my arms back around his shoulders in a tight hug. He returned the embrace, slowly letting me slide down back onto my feet. “Don’t apologize babe.” He said quietly , his digits grazing against my lips. “I could do this forever.” He added, gazing at me through hooded optics. “Do what?”

He raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Everything that just happened, silly.”

I smiled looking down at my feet. “I should get back dressed, the others are probably worrying right about now where we went off too” I said , grabbing my panties from the pile of my clothes and pulling them on. “If you weren’t right, I would stop you.” Mirage grinned smugly. I instantly knew what he meant by that.

“God, how much energy do you have?!” I cried . “Infinte.” He replied , hugging my half clothed body. “I want you with me always, and if you let me have you, you won’t walk at all for a month.” He chuckled, squeezing me tight for a second. “I already have this affect on you, I guess.” I said biting my lip. “Mm, stop that..” he grabbed my lip with his thumb digit pulling it loose from my teeth. I smiled, blushing and wiggling away to finish putting the rest of my clothes on.

“ ’Liz!” I heard Melissa call out. I hurriedly snatched my shirt on. “Over here!” I yelled, stepping out from behind the pile of scrap. She held her chest and sighed. “There you guys are, wait – What have you guys been doing?” she asked giddily.

“Oh, um, we were just talking.” I fibbed, but I knew she knew better. She giggled and hugged my shoulders briefly. “Well Arcee is going crazy and she’s threatening to tell Optimus if you don’t hurry back right now.” She added turning her attention to Mirage. “Oh Primus, ok” he groaned, annoyed rolling his optics.

We all started walking back to the others and Melissa grabbed my shoulder from the side and whispered, “I want to hear all about it later.” I smirked and nodded in agreement, as I blushed deeply, thinking about how Mirage thoroughly fucked me. I smiled at her again. “You will…”

#tf mirage #fanfic #transformers #tf rotb #autobots #mirage x reader #rotb #rotb mirage

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gunchamber · 1 year

Note

"Ooooo big vocabulary for a hunter." Katherine teased, tilting her head to the side with a smile. "This cheese is too sharp for you, darling." Just to add a playful threat she let her fangs slide out to make her 'point'. The way Krissy's fingers were exploring sent goosebumps chasing after her touch, though the doppelganger would never admit to such, and shes practiced enough to keep it out of her expression... the way its affecting her.

The vampire cant help but snort at the wink, its far cheesier than Katherine's previous joke about wendy's. "That or just the first available choice." But you could tell by her smirk and the expression on her face that she didn't really mean that. She had come to Krissy's apartment after all- Katherine chose her.

The doppelganger couldnt hide the slight shiver that the gentle touch to her arm brought, she was about to defensively retort when the hunter's question caught her off guard and she raised a brow. Her mouth opened to speak but there was a delay in her words actually making it out. Such a simple question, such a heavy answer.

do you smile like that to just anyone , sweetheart ?

How had she been smiling...? There are many Katherine Pierce smiles, if you pay attention you could almost turn it into a language all on its own. They all mean different things. Which smile had she been giving Krissy? She hadn't even noticed it... Now she had to back track and defend herself.

"Do I smile? Every damn day have you seen me? Whats not to smile about I'm sexy as hell." We wont even address how the 'sweetheart' made her feel.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀 𝐍𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐘 dig into plush pink flesh of lower lip before eyes drift lower when pointed canines extend passed brim of petals , lashes noticeably fluttering when she thinks of how it’d feel for them to finally lodge into her . she pulls herself away from that slippery slope instantly , once again meeting playful orbs before she can get too lost . krissy takes note of how intoxicating the presence of the other is to her wits . needs to remind herself to be careful . ❛ it is ? guess you’re just starting to rub off on me from spending so much time together . ❜ krissy waits a beat or two before she continues . ❛ i wonder what other kind of influence you’ll have on me ? ❜ she definitely leaves that question open ended on purpose , obvious from the hidden innuendo & expertly placed leer that distorts expression . however no matter how exhilarating it was to propose immodest suggestions , nothing could compare to earning genuine laughter from the woman currently in krissy’s embrace . like a chain reaction , she giggles right along with katherine , like they were just two giddy individuals divulging themselves in their own little world . which in the safety of krissy’s locked apartment , it gave that illusion , that they were safe & wouldn’t be interrupted during whatever trance they’ve entrapped each other in . a mirage of just her & katherine . with fingers still deftly curled around katherine’s wrist , pads of gentle fingers tracing shapes on the thin tender skin of inner wrist , chambers doesn’t miss her body’s reaction to her touch . even with the knowledge it must’ve been an involuntary reaction , it still has krissy thinking she wants to see katherine quiver more . & she wants to be the very reason for it . pupils grow bigger , quietly watching as the other stumbles on reply to her rhetoric , she might be a bit too smug at rendering THE pierce SPEECHLESS . with patience , preoccupied with a new task , krissy leads katherine’s hand up & away from where it’d been grasping the back of the sofa . while she awaits an answer to her question she presses a ghost of a kiss against where her fingers had been previously , kissing the invisible shapes she’d drawn there .

giving a slow blink , she cants her head to the side when words finally find her vampire , amused at her defense mechanism ( also quite saddened by it , at the slightest infliction of sincerity her retaliation is boastfulness ;�� a protection ) . ❛ that’s not what i asked you , ❜ even krissy is surprised at the stern lilt of her voice , steady but determined . ❛ i asked : does your whole face light up ? does your eyes get all wide & sparkly ? does your entire complexion glow like the essence of a goddamn holy angel is running through your veins — when you smile at anyone ELSE? ❜ & each question is punctuated with another kiss , traveling up the other’s arm & by the end her face is once again hovering just below katherine’s .

#❛ ic. ask ┊╳ answered ask .#( malka lisitsa ).#malka lisitsa #/ * clears throats * NOW BABY LOOK WHAT U STARTED!! THE TEMPERATURE'S RISING!!!!#/ long post tw #long post tw #/ don't look at me

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legendsofmyriad · 6 months

Text

Legends of Myriad: Arc One - Chapter 21: Weathering the Storm

Being back on flat land after the constant bumps and bounces of the dunes felt strange, but the streets of Azuris provided Alek with a welcomed respite from the erratic jolts. The cobbled roads, though rugged in appearance, offered a remarkably stable ride. As they ventured further into the sonorous city centre, he settled into the snug seat and the tension gripping his body began to melt away. His eyelids hung heavy as the pleasant sway lulled him and the filtered air cleaned the lingering sand granules from his lungs.

A stray sunray bounced off the wing mirror and into his eyes, momentarily resurrecting the image of the monster in the cave. Gangly arms extended and razor maw snarling. Blood spilling between fractured, yellowing teeth. Insatiable appetite desperate for another bite of living flesh.

“You all right there?” Rhena asked, stealing a swift glance at him before diverting her focus to the road again. With a flick of the gears and easing up on the pedals, she seamlessly blended into the sluggish crawl of traffic.

“Yeah.” Alek adjusted his position until he was sitting up straight, stifling a yawn while taking in the commotion and activity outside the vehicle. Heat licked the roads in a fluctuating mirage, and shadows consumed the citizens as they weaved in and out of the shade.

“Looks as though you were about to fall asleep.”

“I was… uh…”

“Resting your eyes?”

“Something like that,” Alek sighed. Up ahead, a screeching car tore apart the quiet buzz and rumble of low-level engines, and he startled in his seat. “Definitely awake.”

“Probably just some show-off trying to be louder than everyone else,” Rhena griped. “I wish garages would stop agreeing to overwork people’s motors. It’ll short everything out if they’re not careful. Though I suppose they see it as more work in the future if those idiots do end up crapping out their engines.”

Although he didn’t fully understand, Alek hummed along with her observation. While Solgarde had motorised vehicles like trains and trams, most travelled by clicker horse or walked. “You don’t have to go through all this trouble,” he said. “You can drop me off here and I’ll find a medic. I’ve only got a few cuts and bruises.”

“It’s no bother,” the driver assured him, a hospitable expression lighting up her freckled features and scrunching the bridge of her nose. “There’s enough out there that can do plenty of harm, so in here, we look after each other. As long as your intentions are good, you’re welcome anywhere in Eternity.”

Alek had experienced an abundance of their goodwill to be able to trust in her words. He wore the evidence of Eternity’s generosity, and he wasn’t sure where he would be in that moment if it hadn’t been for their kindness.

In hesitant movements, the traffic started to gain momentum. Determined not to wander into napping territory, Alek secured the mesh over the window and savoured the fresh breeze. Approaching the central business district, blackened smudges stained many of the buildings, pale, speckled stone tarnished as though someone had haphazardly launched paint over them. “Did the sun do that?” he asked, pointing to the marks in question.

“What?” Rhena peeked at the marred exteriors. “Ah, no. That will be from the rebellion a few years ago. Got rather nasty towards the end.”

“Were you a part of it?” Alek questioned, awakened by a sense of intrigue.

Rhena’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Everyone was. I did a lot of driving, getting people away from hit areas and occasionally stopping supply vehicles from reaching the upper city. That sort of thing. It’s how I met my girlfriend.”

“Was she in the rebellion too?”

“Not quite.”

Alek noticed her awkwardly scratch the nape of her neck, eyes unblinking and fixed on the motion of traffic ahead. He went to speak, but restrained his curiosity until an appropriate time arose to ask more. Even after months of travel and research, he realised he had only grazed the surface of Eternity’s past and its extensive, sand-swept history.

An irresistible medley of mouthwatering aromas floated into the car, tucking a finger under his chin and directing him to the open windows of the bakeries and eating houses. Their cuisine was a symphony of flavours that captivated his taste buds, and he made it his own personal mission to immerse himself in their culinary delights before his inevitable departure.

“If you wanted to tell the authorities about what you saw, I can take you there tomorrow,” Rhena said, her kind offer cutting through his food-inspired daydream.

“Oh,” he spluttered. The thought of reporting the incident to any authority hadn’t crossed his mind, and he questioned whether it was the wisest option. “Would they believe me if I did?”

“Possibly. There is a load of weird stuff that breeds out there, and they like to check reports of odd sightings to make sure it’s nothing serious. A man turning into ashes probably wouldn’t be the most far-fetched thing they’d heard of.”

Alek pondered her suggestion. It may have helped ease his worries to alert the authorities to the threat, but no living soul existed in that cave anymore. Ghosts of the murdered and lost occupied it now. “I don’t think it will be much use,” he admitted, lounging to inhale the fading scents. “Whatever was in there is gone.”

Nearing the outskirts of the lower city, the symphony of impatient horns and bustling traffic gradually subsided. Detached houses, narrow and pale, neatly lined the streets. Teal domes studded the flat roofs, some of them open to the elements with clothes lines swaying in the gap. The taller structures boasted balconies adorned with lush greenery and cascading floral arrangements that spilled over the stone fencing and lightly skimmed the painted doors.

As they came to the end of a lengthy road, Rhena rotated the wheel, bringing the car to a steady stop underneath an overhang attached to a wide house. She supported her guest out of the back and wandered in through the side entrance. “Hello?” she called, steering him inside and shutting the stained-glass door. “Cas? You here?”

The moment Alek entered the kitchen, the refreshing touch of clean air cooled his sweat-dappled skin.

Climbing in stages along one wall were pictures of Rhena and who he assumed was her partner. They smiled brightly, and the steady rise of images painted a sweet tale.

“That’s Cas,” Rhena said, catching him examining the frames. “Don’t know where she’s got to. Could have sworn she wasn’t going out today.” She leaned around the corner of the worktop and up at the bannister protecting the staircase, calling out again.

Above them, a faint bump reverberated, preceded by hurried thumps along the ceiling and down the tiled stairs. Huffing and limping somewhat, Cas emerged.

“Sorry,” she said, trapping her tight curls into a bobble before kissing Rhena’s cheek. “I was sorting through some stuff in the attic. We’ve got so much rubbish up there.” Her eyes darted towards the stranger in their home, and she firmly shook his hand. “I see we have a visitor.”

“His name’s Alek. He came through the shiny light things,” Rhena explained. “He needed a bit of assistance, so I helped him. Alek, this is my girlfriend and the best vector driver in the world, Cas.”

“Rhena has told me a lot about you,” the mage said.

“Ah, then your judgement of me is already tainted,” Cas joked, a cheerful twinkle in her chestnut eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest and turned to her partner. “And what do you mean he came through the shiny light things?”

“You know that thing that tore up the track in the vector arena while we were competing?” To emphasise her point, Rhena made a sweeping gesture to the window and the illuminated column slicing into the azure sky in the distance.

“Obviously,” Cas replied, lifting the metal brace encasing her lower right limb a few inches off the floor.

“Well, he came through that.”

“Not that one in particular,” Alek shrugged, “but yeah, it was like that.”

Cas’s eyebrows pinched and a heavy crease nestled between them. “Why do I get the nagging feeling this is going to be a long, troubling story?”

With a mischievous wink, Rhena rummaged in the overhead cabinets for various herb jars and twisted the filled kettle into the stovetop holder.

Inviting their visitor to relax, Cas coaxed a chair out from the table and took a seat, encouraging him to explain how he found himself so far from home. As Alek settled down next to her, he recounted his adventures, starting from the moment he and his friends had stumbled upon the dormant gateway in the waterfall caverns. Citrus scents and sugary aromas infused the tale, and Rhena distributed three steaming mugs of lemon tea.

“So those lights are gateways,” Cas said, the worn rings on her fingers jingling on the rim of her cup, “and you travelled through them from another world?”

Softly humming in confirmation, Alek sipped at the syrupy drink and resisted the temptation to gulp it down in one go, the pleasant flavours enrapturing his tastebuds and soothing him from the inside out. “I’m from Solgarde. Professor Spark said my world is known as the home of magic. I have all the research I came for, so I’ll be heading back there soon.”

“What’s ours?” Rhena asked intrigued, setting a plastic carton crammed with medical equipment onto the circular table.

“Home of glass I think.”

“Pretty apt.” With a mellow shrug, she burrowed into the discoloured box and located the wipes and stick-on bandages. “Arm,” she demanded, wiggling her fingers until he’d put down his beverage and obediently planted his forearm onto her upturned palm. “Might sting a bit but it’s better than the alternative.”

“Oh so caring,” Cas whispered jokingly. In response to Rhena’s glare, she slurped at her drink.

Rhena stuck her tongue out at her and got to work cleaning up the dishevelled student, wiping down cuts and weeping wounds, and applying various balms and ointments to his bruises. But one concerned her more than the others. “How close did that man get to you?” she questioned, dabbing at the dried blood and carefully rotating his arm to reach the more severe lacerations.

“Not too close,” Alek answered. Only when he inspected the wound for himself did he understand why she had asked. Deep enough to ooze down his wrist, the gash appeared raised and inflamed, and in the centre, riven holes bore into his skin. Murmurs quivered on his lips. “It… it didn’t get that near to me to be able to… I’m sure of it.”

“You did say it moved fast,” Rhena pointed out.

“But I felt nothing. Not even a slight scratch.”

“No use in panicking now. We’ll keep an eye on it, okay?” Rhena took a brief break from tending to the wound and patiently waited for him to snap out of his stunned daze. “It might not be a bite. Could be anything. You’ll find sharp things all over those caves.”

Alek’s throat tightened as he swallowed, and he mustered a nod. He replayed the fight in his head and sought to recall ever getting so close to the creature’s face it had the opportunity to sink its teeth into his arm. It couldn’t have, he tried to convince himself. It was moving quickly, but not that quick. Still, the cut spewed another thick clump as though to disagree.

“You’re free to stay with us, if you need somewhere,” Cas said. “You look like you’ve been through a nasty ordeal.”

“Thank you,” Alek murmured, the image of that disjointed face and those snarling teeth haunting him. “I will be out of your hair tomorrow.”

“Nonsense,” Rhena tutted. “You can stick around for as long as you want. And when you’re ready, I’ll get you back to the gateway. How does that sound?”

Kinder than I deserve, Alek thought, but kept unspoken. He offered her a meek smile, and she patted the unscathed side of his arm. “I have a little money to repay you with.”

“You don’t need to give us anything,” Cas assured him, rising to her feet and placing her empty cup by the sink.

“But-”

“Okay, how about this? I’ll put some dinner on and you can tell some stories about Solgarde.” In the middle of unhooking pots and pans from the wall holders, she paused and planted her hands on her hips. “A place filled with magic sounds rather interesting.”

* * *

Woken by a tremendous bang, Alek shot upright and hastily threw the bedsheets off his clammy legs. As the murky darkness enveloped him and silhouettes flickered, he stretched his hand into the gloom and summoned an illuminated orb. Bathed in the silvery glow, the jacket on the door hooks cast a slithering shadow, but the rest of the spare bedroom lay dormant. No spectres. No phantoms lurking in the corner to snatch him from his bed. And no elongated creatures waiting to plunge their teeth into him.

He rubbed at the beading perspiration on his forehead and abandoned the comfortable mattress. Cool tile tickled his toes as he lumbered out into the upstairs hallway. Navigating by orb light, he cautiously descended the stairs.

Around the bannister, a mellow warmth trickled from the kitchen. Cocooned in a fluffy dressing gown and matching slippers, Cas locked her unblinking focus on the rain. Misshapen outlines slid down her face in the dull glow of the cabinet lights. Like a gunshot, the world outside roared and several loud smashes exploded above. A flash followed seconds later and momentarily engulfed the open space in a slab of blinding white.

“Cas?” Alek said, mindful of his host’s serene meditation. “Is there something going on?”

“It’s just a glass storm,” she replied. With a reassuring smile, she beckoned him over to the sink, making room so he could witness the fury of the elements.

He ducked a little and positioned himself to peek through the highest point of the window arch. Intense blue hues dominated the sky and wispy grey veils roiled to hide the stars. Chunks of glass rained from the looming clouds, shattering into minuscule pieces upon hitting the city’s blockade. Defeated, they rolled along the dome and disappeared behind distant structures.

Just as he was about to withdraw, a deafening crack of lightning split the air and he flinched.

“Don’t worry,” Cas reassured him, “it can’t get in here. Only weather that can get through the barrier is rain.”

Mesmerised, Alek admired the breathtaking beauty, the iridescent rainbow glimmers reflecting off the plummeting glass and the crashes resonating off the defence system. A chaotic symphony of shatters resounded before the smaller fragments continued their melodic chorus. In a dazzling display, a series of forked strikes blasted the shield.

“I always struggle to sleep through storms,” Cas sighed as weighty raindrops bombarded the windowpane. “But Rhena could sleep through a full scale attack and wake up asking what happened. Nothing disturbs her once she’s asleep.”

“I’m surprised anybody can rest during this,” Alek mumbled. “I’d be amazed if people over the other side of Myriad couldn’t hear it.”

Cas let out a breathy chuckle. “Most times, they’re quite contained, but I saw one once that spanned for miles. Just glass sheets and hail and lightning. It was like the sky was desperate to break the world apart. I ended up stranded outside the city with some other troops and it reached the point where many of us began questioning whether we’d make it until morning.”

“You’re a part of the army?” Alek asked, shifting from the erupting weather.

“I was,” Cas replied. “Feels like a lifetime ago now.”

A sense of camaraderie warmed him at meeting a fellow soldier, but a nagging hunch hinted their military experiences differed considerably. The memory of Rhena’s words in the car resurfaced, connecting her recollection of how they had found each other and her role in the uprising. “Rhena mentioned you both met during the last rebellion,” he said, not wanting to overstep but curious about his hosts.

Cas’s sombre eyes roamed the relentless white sheets of rain assaulting the driveway and the weathered brick. Cracks of lightning and peals of thunder hunted each other to join the orchestra of fragile shatters. Each rumble served as a haunting reminder of the projectiles, the screeching car chases, and the ceaseless surge of adrenaline her duty demanded. Soldier of Azuris. Protector. Defender. But it had been a lie. All she had done was give power to a misguided leader and inadvertently aid in the execution of his horrors.

Until Rhena.

Until that bubbly ray of light entered her life and offered her the opportunity to make a better choice.

“It was a difficult time for everyone,” she said, careful not to scratch at the raw psychological wounds. “The previous ruler of Azuris was easily swayed by flattery, and greedy individuals exploited this weakness by showering him with praise and then filling his head with nonsense. He acted on what they suggested, trusting every word, and many lost their lives.”

“I’m sorry,” Alek spoke into the mournful lull.

“For so long, I fought on the wrong side, thinking that I was protecting people. If it hadn’t been for Rhena, I wouldn’t be here.” Standing up to her full height, Cas freed the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding and turned her back on the violent storm. “I see the soldier in you, you know. I hope things are better where you’re from.”

Alek worried his lip between his teeth before he responded. “Solgarde is recovering from a war. Well, I say a war, it was more of a purge. Mages like me were hunted, blamed for everything that went wrong and believed dangerous. Only those with powers considered valuable were allowed to live, but they were closely monitored. The majority were slaughtered. We fought hard and won in the end, but our numbers are much sparser now.”

“And you had to fight?” Cas asked.

“The students of the Citadel weren’t forced to. Arrangements were made to get us to safety, but we didn’t leave. Our home was under threat, our families and our friends were being killed, and even though we knew we may not make it, we refused to flee.”

An overwhelming swell of protection flooded Cas’s veins. It was heartbreaking to comprehend the struggles someone so young had faced, but his fortitude gave her hope. Confronted with adversity, he pressed on, displaying a remarkable bravery for one of his age. “We survivors must stick together,” she said staunchly, watching the storm once more. “To ensure that all of those horrid things never happen again and future generations do not have to suffer how we have.”

#tw: blood #tw: injury detail #legends of myriad #legendsofmyriad #fantasy #fantasy writing #story series #writblr #creative writing #fantasy story #writing #fantasy series #original fiction #original fic #original writing

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vahalia-cress-ffxiv · 1 year

Text

En Route

An intense burning sensation touched at her flesh, Vahalia found her fingers curling, or what felt like curling, trying to make a fist only to find a throbbing pain in her arm. She blipped in and out of consciousness, finding moments in between to catch pieces of conversation or blurred lights and colors that extended out from her.

Darkness came in waves and the pit of her stomach felt angry. Hungry, thirsty and nauseous as much of the drugs still coursed through her body. Finding the energy she had in whatever reserve her attention shifted to her burning hand, scared flesh having been healed that was never there before and a splitting sensation ran down her right shoulder blade. A product of where Creature seemingly tore from her core in retaliation to the violence she had endured. Once more….a familiar thing.

Her nails found the newly healed flesh and she sucked in along her teeth, the searing sensation raised again and she simply withdrew any touch from the recent wound, not remembering how she had gotten it.

“You’re awake? Good. To some degree you might be able to fill us in on a few things.” the woman's voice beside her came and with further inspection of her surroundings Vahalia noticed the heavy set bars around her and her manacles chained to the lower plate of what she could only deduce was a cage she sat in. Three times her size, room to move around but certainly something that stank of previous animal transport.

Vahalia swallowed, her throat sore, dry – her voice crackled, “Where are we?” “The Mirage.” the woman spoke again, adjusting her glasses at the bridge of her nose, “Seems Ichiro has some immediate plans for you.”

“And?” Vahalia managed, the manacles moving and chiming as a hand placed to the front of her throat.

“Your stay might be no more than a few days. I have some tests to run on you – this thing of yours…” and the woman’s words clipped, the pen in her hand indicating Vahalia’s shoulder where Creature had formed prior that day – days ago? Today? Just how long had she been out?, “ – A curious thing and not something we’ve seen before. Do you know what it is?”“No.” Vahalia replied in a terse fashion, “No more than you.”“But you control it.”“I don’t.”

“Interesting.” the woman crouched by the crate with her clipboard making a few notes, “Does it always react when you’re being threatened?”

“I’m not sure.” Vahalia swallowed, “Not many people are stupid enough to threaten me. Even without this.”

The blonde-haired woman smirked, almost trying to pass it off as a sincere smile, “Right.” she nearly sang out, “Well be as it may, you are in my care for the time being. The bruises will heal in time. You should be fortunate Oktai went light on his coaxing.”

The woman was met with Vahalia turning her back to her, resting her head along the bar of the cage she had been put in. Silence became her and she didn’t intend on hearing anymore that the other woman decided to offer. Yellow eyes already darting around the cage itself and the immediate area which she didn’t see much of due to the darkness. Occasionally the rumble and vibrations of the ship quaked below her almost creating a comforting jostle of her environment and a quick ray of light skimmed across the darkened space.

She could hear Yui walking away, or what she had garnered of the woman’s name to be in and out of consciousness when someone would address her. Now and again her thoughts drifted to people she knew and what they might have been doing. Her sister, Marion and Annette – of course assuming they had everything under control in her absence; would they even consider her absence unusual? How long was she gone? It felt like only a day but being where she was it was hard to tell. The company in which she worked for – it wasn’t the first time she had showed up to a meeting alone, as harmless as this was to have been, in broad daylight and in plain sight no less.

These people were ballsy, she had to hand it to them. It could leave one to wonder just how long they had planned it. It seemed like a huge stretch just to grab someone over ceruleum. Was Ichiro that pissed off about it?

Her tongue paused at the inside of her mouth against her cheek, working through whatever sweltering annoyance she felt at her face, the wheels turning in her head as she once more gazed around the area; it was likely the only thing she could do at the moment was wait.

Be patient.

Patience was something she had mastered over the course of several years. That gnawing irritation of something or someone around her – she had learned to close it all out and buckle into herself to keep herself from lashing out - many years of playing a waiting game. She had fashioned herself a skill that would undoubtedly assist.

Vahalia flexed her fingers, the manacles shifting as she looked them over, weighing them and testing them – to no avail. Not even the familiar chitter of Creature rattled in her braincase.

Were they both subdued by these irons?

Well, that was going to be problematic.

Suppose she could only wait and see where their destination was.

#Blurb #Stories #Just something quick

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pandoraimperatrix · 2 years

Text

Wandering Worlds

DickKory | Core Four Centric | Cannon Divergence | Longfic

Summary:

Dick Grayson is dead. His life taken by his own brother. The Abel to Jason’s Cain. Consumed by grief, Rachel gives in to despair, losing control, a portal opens, but from it no destroyer of words come through. Instead a man who looks just like him, how can he be?

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*90's infomencial voice* Tired of Dick Grayson getting no character growth every season? Can't stand the lack of development? The fact that we barely got any DickKory content since season one? I have just what you need! *normal voice* Okay, so in this fic Dick died, and Rachel pulled an alternative version of him from a dying universe, a version of him that will not take his family, Kory and his life for granted, he's not perfect, but he's doing his best.

————————————–

Chapter Nineteen – Dreams don't make promises

The vision that welcomed him when Dick opened his eyes was one of a miracle. Nothing else could justify it other than a supernatural blessing.

She was smiling, awake already, although there were something of slumberous in the slow fanning of her long eyelashes. All she was wearing were the unstable ribbons made of the golden sunlight that sneaked through despite his blinds best efforts. Not unlike the hope also sneaking into his heart, drip by drip first, and last night, her confession teared down the gates letting the flood in. All this time, he had been so afraid of drowning, so scared that he could be deluding himself, he didn’t dare to want more, to want her, to think that could be a possibility, because even in the impossible situation that she maybe wanted him too, he didn’t deserve her, didn’t deserve a second chance.

But, the way she looked at him last night, and the honesty of her words, and the courageous, absolutely generous act of offering him that mask, fully knowing what that meant, renewal, hope, rebirth. He didn’t know before that moment, that was the key to unlock something inside him that he thought had died, but was just hidden away, something Koriand’r, somehow, had power over, and used that power to free it, free him.

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Arm folded over the pillow, hand under her chin, a sigh left parted lips, the movement leading a curl to slip from her shoulder to the front of her eyes like a veil. Dick gave in to temptation, then, extending his arm to reach her, half hating the small suggestion of separation, half fear of this being nothing but another cruel dream, mirage that would disappear if tainted by the reality of his touch.

Euphoria exploded in the pit of his chest as his hand found her impossibly warm cheek, the feeling prolonged as she leaned towards his touch, covered his hand with hers, pressing it slightly firmer. Dick gasped when, following that, she kissed his wrist.

“Good morning,” she greeted and then didn’t disappear, the world didn’t end, he was not back to his cold ill smelling cot, alone and miserable.

He was with her.

His eyes stung and he shut them, she was frowning when he blinked, lifting his lids to face the impossible.

“There’s something wrong?”

“No,” he managed to say, but just barely, his voice feeling like crushed gravel.

And then, the small distance became unbearable. She sighed when he pulled her into a kiss and giggled at his vigour when he trapped her underneath his body, hating the mere suggestion of letting that moment go.

Unlike the night before, when her desire burned to the point of despair, this morning her body was languid and pliant under his, radiating the sort of peace only someone comfortable with her own skin and desires could manage. As he kissed her, her leg hooked around his, the sole of her foot sliding up his calf just to slide down after in soothing motion.

It was impossible to no remember, not feel the tug of the past, of what were and what could never be again. He forced his eyes to open, then, releasing her plump lips from his abuse. Searching for her, real and ardent with life under him, nothing like a fainting memory.

“Hey you,” she said, thumb tracing his lower lip.

“Koriand’r,” he reminded himself.

She beamed and fixed a piece of hair that feel over his eyes and was ticking her forehead, pushing it behind his ear.

“Richa’rd,” she said in a faux mocking tone, forcing a strong accent. That, gained her a smile, and she looked proud of her victory. “It’s morning already,” her finger travelled from his ear across his cheek, to his nose. “What are we having for breakfast?”

Dick took a deep breath, burying his face in the curve of her neck, nested on her voluminous hair, god, she was everywhere, it was like inhaling heaven.

“You.”

That dirty laugh of hers that he loved so much reverberated across his room, exorcizing the ghosts hiding in the dark corners of his heart.

“Maybe later, lover, as much as I’d love to stay in bed with you, we do have kids.”

He answered that by sucking her neck hard, making her moan, he continued his ministrations by kissing down her throat. Rose his eyes at her while he licked the path made by the valley of her breasts as if daring her to tell him to stop, but she just stood there, bewitched by the promise of more pleasure, the tip of her tongue peeking as if she was about to say something but couldn’t remember what it was. His kisses continued, down her belly, around her belly button, and sucked again just above where her curls started.

“X’hal…” he heard her say under her breath.

“You sure about later?”

She choked on a laugh.

“You are a menace, Grayson, have someone ever told you that?”

“Good evening” sing-songed Rachel, she was sitting on the countertop with a huge Cheshire smile that was completely unusual not only to her personality but also to that time of day. Dick rolled his eyes, but was having hard time trying to stop the muscles from his cheeks to curl his lips in a smile.

“Good morning,” he just answered in neutral tone, trying to not give her more ammunition, and crossing the aisle to get his mug of coffee, noticing with a little drop of guilt and a measure of relief that there were plates in the ditch, which meant the kids had fed despite his absence.

“Oh I bet it was too,” said Garfield, he had a playful glint in his eye, something that was almost new after so long gone, “look at him, he’s glowing.”

In that moment, Donna arrived in her working out clothes and hair tied up, she took one look at Dick and sighed, picking her wallet from the messy cabinet and payed the kids who started making a silly dance.

“Can someone please, explain?”

“Seriously, Grayson? It’s all over your face. I was betting in your aversion to happiness and general pigheadness for at least until I left, now you owe me a hundred bucks,” she said pointing a finger at him.

“I didn’t make you take any bet with them! Do you know that one can, sometimes, see the future, don’t you? And wait, you’re leaving?”

Dick moved to take her hand in the air before it fell completely to her side, trying to keep her from moving so fast. Almost as a reflex of his early days in this new old world, in which she was the only friendly shore to harbour him.

“Pff, as if you’d miss me,” she joked, but didn’t pull her hand.

“Donna-“

“I’m joking, I know you will,” and although it was far from being something said completely straight, she wasn’t exactly dismissing his feelings either, “but hey… I think it’s time” she breathed those last words so only he could hear and rotated her wrist so she was the one holding his hand now. “And, you need time alone with your family. I’m happy for you guys, I really am. Also… Thank fucking Zeus! You guys only took and eternity!”

“Where are you going, Donna?” asked Rachel, both the children looking at Donna with puppy eyes. Dick’s gaze moved from the kids to his best friend’s face, she actually looked a little touched by the attention, maybe even surprised at herself for feeling that way, had her forehead frowned in that way Diana used to accuse them both of mirroring each other when they were children. As much as Donna complained about taking care of children, or doing the whole Titans thing, something she had vowed to never partake in again, and only kept breaking it because of him, he knew, that deep down, she would miss them, would miss this.

“Aren’t you nosey? I’m going to visit Dawn in Paris.”

“Should we join Donna and visit her too, Dick?” asked Rachel in a mocking tone. “Leave the two lovebirds aloooone…”

“I mean, it’s only fair, you and Kory went to Metropolis,” added Gar.

“No way!” Said Donna with her hands raised with exaggerated horror. “I’m trying to get away from you, you are not following me!”

“What is this commotion about?” the silly threats and giggles were interrupted as Koriand’r’s smooth voice announced her presence, and although it had been just a few minutes since he had been between the vicious grip of her powerful thighs, see her still stole the breath from his lungs.

“Look who decided to grace us with her presence,” jested Rachel, leaning behind Gar to get a glimpse at the newcomer. “Don’t you think she’s glowing too, Gar?”

“I can see she is!”

Koriand’r’s eyes searched for his, and for a moment Dick feared. She had said later, she made promises. Still. That morning in Wayne Manor, and all their past, it whispered cold truths he found hard to ignore now he was not under the warmth of her passion.

Donna’s hand slipped from his.

“I was just telling them I’m leaving to Paris. By the way, we all know you are fooling around, please don’t embarrass yourselves trying to pretend you aren’t.”

Koriand’r snorted and shook her head at Donna and the kids.

“Who told you we would?” she crossed the room, walked towards Dick who could only stand there like an idiot. “And we’re not fooling around,” her gaze left the other to focus on him them, and the kids were right, she was glowing again. And silly as it was, considering, well, everything, he felt a colony of butterflies residing inside his belly as her hands cupped his face and the kids started whistling, “we are together” she explained before kissing him.

He felt her before he saw her, her perfume, a change in the air, how it became easier and harder to breath at the same time every time she was close. Suddenly, there was a warm hand on the small of his back, and her chin was perched on his shoulder, nose nuzzling his cheek… Jesus…

“What have you stuck in here working so hard?”

He turned on the chair to give her attention, and as she attempted to leave, being a tease, Dick pulled her by her hips, making her topple to fall on his lap making Kory squeal.

“Are you trying to make me fall?” Yes. Maybe he was, because he was barely feeling the floor under his feet lately, and as exhilarating as it was, it was also scary. Also, it felt good, having her within the reach of his arms.

“Can’t you fly?” he provoked her, kissing her naked shoulder, she was wearing something sleeveless today, his fingers played with the laces on her back, they would be fun so sort later, or a nuisance? He’d find out soon enough. “By the way, you owe me a trip.”

She held his face with one powerful hand, pulling his chin up. The air of a queen, she had. So much power and assertiveness. He wanted her desperately.

“And you owe me a date,” she said against his lips before pulling him into another hungry kiss. His chair moaned in protest as she adjusted her weight to straddle him, and then, with a crash, it broke, lowering them down in slow motion, which forced a few giggles of them but wasn’t incentive enough to make them stop.

The plans they made the night they decided to try to give this new chance they miraculously got a little bit delayed by the days that didn’t stop coming one after the other. Between being reinstated as Nightwing and dealing with the proceedings of Donna’s departure – there was so much she had been forced to take charge and so much he had to pick up before she was due to go. Koriand’r was taking a lot of responsibility too, of course, more than she already had – their new relationship status wasn’t exactly helping to move things along.

She was banished from entering the kitchen while he was cooking after an incident involving a carbonized ratatouille, the children were refusing to train with both of them at the same time in reason of the two of them being, in their words: gross. Nobody found out about the laundry room, at least.

He didn’t mind his new pink and lavender shirts.

Dick barely had time really focus his attention in reading the files that he found indeed belonged to Gar. Collected various cases that didn’t seem to be linked at all, possessions and weird violent deaths of people that had not involvement with supernatural beings of any sort. One happened in broad daylight to a housewife in a parking lot. Witness said it was like she was consumed by a demon and walked away, her body was found a week after miles away from her last sighting.

To mark her goodbyes, Donna takes them all to lunch (real pizza with real dough!) and they all have fun despite Dick suffering of a little case of jitters. He had been well aware she wouldn’t be there forever holding his hand, but still… It felt wrong to say goodbye to Donna. Always did. He kept having these flashes of the last time he saw his original Donna, and remembering the circumstances he had met this one.

Either times... Well, they almost felt like something that didn’t happen to him. Not to this man that was trying to ignore his not-entirely-joking insatiable girlfriend’s offer to try to have sex the public bathroom of a Italian restaurant.

Where was the despair? What happened to the hopelessness? What did he do with all the suffering still locked inside some chamber of his heart now it had no reason to be?

Take it out on bad guys? The Bruce Wayne approach? How could he do that in front of Rachel and Gar and preach heroism?

What to do then?

“Oh no…”

Donna found him leaning against the baluster outside where he went to take a few breaths that didn’t taste like grease and marinara.

“What?”

“I know that face,” she said in an accusatory tone. “Don’t you dare create drama today, Grayson, I swear…”

He just pushed her weakly with the side of his body and instead of continuing with her promises of eternal damnation, Donna just reciprocated the act, slightly a little harder.

Dick sighed, as they stood there in silent, the night was falling slowly, it was colder too, Donna was supposed to go before the snow season. Despite her borderline ridiculous complaints about being a babysitter and hating the Titans Tower, she didn’t look in any hurry to leave in those last couple of weeks.

“What you’re gonna tell Dawn?”

“About what?”

Dick only gave her a look.

“Not going to tell her anything she doesn’t need to know. Your family made their minds about you. She is irrelevant.”

He snorted.

“What?”

“Sounded a little mean.”

She actually flushed a little.

“Oh you know what I meant!”

He chuckled, and Donna smiled. It was a real smile, a rare earnest one, free of her defensive cynicism.

“Don’t ruin this, alright? You’re so fucking lucky.”

Dick felt his smile slip, and Donna held his arm, desperate fingers pulling around his jacket.

“Donna…”

“Promise me!”

He gave her half a smile and pulled her for a full hug.

“You don’t need to worry about me anymore.”

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

Maybe I let a little bit of my disdain for dearest Dawn bleed a bit, of well, what to do??

Soooo, some of you talked about the last chapter, how it felt like an ending. It was, sort of. When I planned this story, I planned the whole thing, but I always knew it kinda was a two-part sort of. I could end it here and publish the rest as separated, but I’m not in the mood to edit tags.

What are your bets for what is coming? Let me know in the comments!

#DickKory #Dick Grayson #Koriand'r #Nightwing #Starfire #Kory Anders #Richard Grayson #Titans LA #DCU Titans #Titans Live Action #HBO Titans #WW #Wandering Worlds #my fic #IS IT A GHOST? A ZOMBIE? A VAMPIRE??? NOOOO IT'S MEEEE I DIDN'T DIE #RIP to the Batgirl movie but I'm different #now srsly WHAT IS HAPPENING?????

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