#oh look another oc i'm tormenting

[haru-natsuka]

Second Male Leads Are all Yanderes but I Won't Rest Until I Win My Love Back (Female Reader x OCs)

CHAPTER 6

Story will start after the synopsis

Every second male lead who appeared in this world had a hidden yandere side that can emerge at any moment and turn them into a twisted and obsessive villain.

As someone with a severe case of the "second male lead syndrome", you are determined to pursue your love for the second male lead, leaving the original male lead to become the second.

While you were busy chasing after the second male lead, the original male lead kept on bothering you and trying to get you to choose him instead.

"Don't you dare to come any closer!" You snap at the original male lead, your tone sharp and firm.

"Oh, and who's going to stop me? You?" The yandere stares at you, a menacing look in their eyes, as their body slowly moves closer.

"Too close! Step back!"

"Your words mean nothing to me. You can't control me. I will come as close as I please, you can't stop me."

As if a yandere was not enough, when you chose to ignore the original male lead, another second male lead suddenly entered your life, further complicating the situation.

The yandere and the upcoming second male lead both seem determined to have you for themselves, and they were both very possessive and pushy in their approaches to you.

You just wanted to be happy with your true love. Yandere or not, you would stick with your crush!

CHAPTER 1 << CHAPTER 2 << CHAPTER 3 << CHAPTER 4 << CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6: WORRISOME

Adrian's voice was filled with a mix of relief and anxiety as he pulled back you to be completely within his arms, the back of your head was gently being held by him which lead for your face pressed against his chest.

His hold on you growing tighter with each passing second. He clutched you as if ensuring your presence was real and solid, a desperate need to feel your safety.

"I'm just glad you're safe," he repeated, his words choked with emotion. "But please, promise me never to disappear like that again. I was losing my mind with worry."

"Ohhh Adrian," you replied, a hint of amusement laced in your tone as you tried to lighten the tense surrounding and his worry. "Did you miss me that much?" you teased. "We were only apart for a few hours, and here I am, safe and sound."

As you spoke, you extended your hand to pat his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath your palm while doing so. It beat so quickly, a testament to the anxiety he had endured.

"It was more than just a few hours," he murmured, his grip on you unyielding.

"It was 8 hours, 43 minutes, and 27 seconds," His words carrying a hint of desperation. "Anything could have happened to you in that time!" The gravity of his concern was evident in his voice, a reflection of the anxious hours he had spent waiting for your return.

'Wow, that's a bit too precise'

"I-!..."

Adrian paused for a moment, a glimmer of insight flickering in his eyes. He seemed to be engaged in a silent conversation with himself, contemplating his own actions and their consequences. After a few seconds, he turned his gaze back to you, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Is it because I was being a bit emotional earlier?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of self-reflection. "Is this my punishment for that?"

He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and affectionate as he stared at your face with a familiar mixture of pain and guilt expression that indicated his internal emotion. As you observed Adrian's expression, a pang of recognition and concern registered within you.

'This face is the exact one he had as that time... When his heart was broken because of his best friends... Adrian is self blaming himself again...'

"Look at me, Adrian. I'm fine, healthy, perfectly well and I am here now right?"

You cup his face in your hands. Adrian's gaze reluctantly lifted to meet yours, his eyes pained but hopeful. The torment and guilt evident on his face slowly ebbed away as you spoke.

"Instead of thinking about today, let's focus on tomorrow. Let's spend the whole day together until we got bored!" you suggested, your voice warm and soothing as you were comforting your man. "We can do farming, planting tomatoes, cherries... Oh! or we can go fishing too."

Adrian's expression visibly brightened at your suggestion, the guilt and worry gradually fading from his eyes as he saw you were trying to comfort him just like you always did. The you who always consoled him. The you, who always forgive him. Seeing your willingness to offer support, Adrian made the conscious decision not to dwell on his negative emotions.

He smiled, a genuine smile that reached all the way to his eyes. The smile that could shine a thousand miles away. That was your Adrian smile.

"That does sound wonderful. As long as I get to spend time with you, it doesn't matter what we do. I will never left you alone anymore. It will never be boring." he replied, his voice carrying a mixture of excitement and relief.

"But still don't push yourself too much with my whims. Are you suggesting to be with me even by sacrificing your sleep time?" Adrian's tone shifted, becoming more serious as he voiced his concerns. There was an air of caution in his words, and he looked at you with a hint of worry.

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you responded to Adrian's concern with a lighthearted tone, a hint of a mischievous smirk on your lips.

"Oh, don't worry about me, Adrian," you reassured him. "I can always make up for it later by dozing off in those cozy arms of yours."

Upon hearing your lighthearted response, a soft chuckle escaped Adrian's lips. He could not help but be endeared by your confident nonchalance. The thought of you dozing off in his arms brought a tender smile to his face.

"I'll take it as a badge of honor for being such a comfort to you, Y/N"

As he looked at you closely, he could notice the subtle signs of exhaustion on your face. He recalled how unsteady your breathing was when he first laid eyes on you. a pang of guilt washed over him as he realized how self-centered he had been for holding you back.

"You know, you seem a bit tired," his voice gentle and filled with worry. "We should head back to our home."

The word of our home echoed in your brain as it could be define as another meaning but no, Adrian would not mean that. Adrian was simply innocent and pure while you were really lustful and impure.

'Is it wrong to have this thoughts and imagination, oh God forgive me for wanting to steal your angel'

As you tried to take a few steps backwards, preparing yourself for the walk home but almost immediately, you fall flat on the ground. Adrian, caught off guard by your unexpected fall, failed to catch you in time. Your startled expression mirrored the surprise on Adrian's face as he quickly rushed over to your side, kneeling down beside you as he observed your condition.

"I'm sorry but my legs are too shaky" You give him an assuring smile but in your mind, you blamed the entire thing on that scoundrel who disturbed your date with your man earlier.

'Next time we meet, I will punch his face for sure. No- there should not be another time. Hmmph! He should just rot in hell!'

"Are you really alright? Should we go to a physician? Can I examine your legs?" He instinctively reached out to check your legs, but you gently stopped his hand, giving him a reassuring smile.

"I'm good Adrian. Let just go home. I'm just in need for a rest"

Respecting your insistence, Adrian refrained from bombarding you with questions. With a gentle yet firm grip, he carefully lifted you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly towards your home. A sense of responsibility washed over him, fueling his determination to care for you, making up for his own actions that morning.

Your whole body tensed, startled to be in the arms of the person you love but did not complain as you viewed this as an opportunity to indulge yourself with being held within his warm arms. Your eyes trailed from his chest to his face and the most closest part to you, his neck.

'Neck fetish, please don't activate now'

You slapped yourself multiple times in your mind but in reality you hung your head low and covered your face with your hands as you bite the inner part of your mouth to control your desire. You did not want your man to think you were somehow mental or crazy.

As you were busy fangirling in your heart and brain, you noticed the short path to your house became long. You slowly raised your head and saw his expression shifting from conflicted to reddened with embarrassment. The tinge of red on his cheeks growing more apparent with each passing moment. Adrian stepped halt in front of the door of your house.

Despite being neighbours, neither you nor Adrian had ever crossed the line and entered each other's homes. Both of you had a strong respect for each other's privacy, and Adrian was keenly aware of the boundaries and propriety associated with a man entering a single lady's residence.

"Adrian, you can put me down now"

Adrian hesitated for a brief moment, his protective instincts refusing to let go of you just yet when you were in that weak state.

"But-" he protested, his voice laced with concern.

"The strength of my legs has returned. Thank you for making it easier for me" Adrian just tighten his hold on you as he reluctant to let you be on your own. Amused by his adorable yet concerning behavior, you refrained from making it more challenging for him, even though secretly, you found it quite endearing.

"If you don't put me down, your first kiss here will be mine" You tapped your finger lightly on his lips as you chose to threaten him with the most effective way for Adrian. It was a coward move but it was the best action for him and at this time.

"I know you, Y/N. You will not force yourself on me" It was not like yesterday the two of you know each other and Adrian could distinguish between a true and empty threat coming from you. He was still stubborn to help you although he is hopeless now.

Without thinking twice, you brought yourself closer to his lips "Then, you need to know me better. My heart is always for you, so kissing the person you love..., it's not hard at all Adrian"

His blushing worsen as he did not expect that move from you. He choose to carefully lower you to the ground as he knew now that was not an empty threat, ensuring that you were steady on your feet before reluctantly letting go.

You let out a lighthearted chuckles as you had fun teasing your man. However, the truth was, you also feeling shy for making such a move. You still could feel his hot breath on your face earlier and your heart still pounding so hard. You took his hands in your hold and kissed his fingertips just to add his embarrassment more.

"Thank you for always care for me. I know I choose the right person to fall in love with"

Adrian timidly took back his hands and just pat your head gently. His eyes could not even land on you properly as he was still a blushing madness. His other hand covered part of his lower face.

"Take care, Y/N. Goodnight" Adrian could not even talk properly that his words became a whisper.

"Night too Adrian. Sweet dreams and see you tomorrow" You closed the door before melting on the floor as you scream for your stupidity.

"Where did that courage come from! What did I do! How can I even do that!"

You wanted to bang your head for choosing such a low quality threat for Adrian. Outside of your house was Adrian who heard you scream. He took a sit in front of the entrance as he tried to cool down his red face and ears with the night's chill air. This time, he was the one feeling weak on his feet.

The following morning, you woke up before the sun had even risen, your steps light with anticipation as you reminisced about the events of the previous day.

'Let's not think about the negative side! Just remember you got to see Adrian flustered face! His hot breath! His muscles arms! I should learn painting and paint myself that spectacular scenery!'

It was a pleasant and calm morning. Just as you were about to walk into the forest, passing the first line of trees, a long-standing enemy revealed himself from behind the tree.

"AHHHHHH!!!"

'THE SATAN HAS REVEALED HIMSELF AGAIN!!!'

>> Chapter 7

Tag list:

@d3sperate-enuf @sirenetheblogger @orinnie @aoiyx @chin-chii @elsoleil @iamapotatoe @yzuposts @black-butterfly-2405

@beeskn3es @ivorette @type-ink @lol-leo

[jerzwriter]

Look at me finishing something I started—even if it is only two parts. LOL Here is the second, concluding part of this Valentine's Day AU for Ethan and Kaycee. I hope you enjoy it!

Book: Open Heart (Book 1) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Kaycee MacClennan (F!MC) Featuring: Bryce Lahela, F!OC Rating: Teen Words: 2,600 Summary: When Ethan and Kaycee run into each other at Donahue's on Valentine's Day, neither is too happy to find they are there with someone else, even if they know they have no right to feel that way. How do they get through the night? (Part 2 of 2 - Part one can be found here.)

A/N: Participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge March Challenge - I think fire could fit this story.

Just Another Day Part 1

Kaycee's breath hitched, her expression noticeably shifting the moment her eyes met Ethan's. He said he was spending the night at home, hated this day, and wanted no part of it. Yet, here he was, and he didn't even have the decency to be alone. Now, she lamented coming out at all. The bar was noisy, but neither the music blaring from the jukebox nor the hum of competing conversations were loud enough to calm the thoughts that were racing in Kaycee's head.

She felt like an open book; any fool with eyes could see the storm brewing inside of her, but Ethan... he was another story. His expression remained guarded; his stance hadn’t changed a bit. A bystander would think he had a care in the world. But Kaycee knew better. She saw the moment something shifted in his eyes, a flicker of sadness that betrayed his carefully curated veneer. That should have been comforting, right? Misery loves company and he was tormented, too. So did it make her feel even worse?

She gathered herself and quickly turned away, but not soon enough to fool Bryce. He had already noticed the change in his friend's demeanor, and when he looked over his shoulder, he immediately spotted the culprit. "Oh," he whispered, leaning closer. "You all right? We could go someplace else?”

"No," she insisted. Donahue’s was every bit as much “hers” now, and she wasn't about to let Ethan's push her away. "I'm great,” she lied as the plastered smile on her face expanded. “We’re staying right here.”

But she wasn't great because she caught a glimpse of the woman standing at Ethan's side. Kaycee had never seen her before, except maybe in a nightmare or two. A tall, beautiful brunette dressed elegantly in old-money sort of way, wearing clothes Kaycee knew she could never afford. She was exactly the kind of woman she imagined Ethan would be with. The kind of woman he probably wanted. The kind of woman that she was not.

From the moment Ethan stopped their kiss on that Miami balcony, he insisted the only reason they couldn't be together was his position. He was her attending, and crossing a line could ruin her career and damage his. It wasn’t worth the risk, he insisted, and she wanted to believe that was the only reason he pulled away. But deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there had to be more.

Maybe she hadn’t achieved enough. Maybe she lacked the kind of effortless sophistication that seemed to draw him in. She wasn’t the woman he’d take to opening night at the opera, but she thought maybe she could be the type of woman he'd spend Valentine's Day wth at a dive bar, but now, even those hopes were dashed. It wasn’t that it wasn’t worth the risk. Somewhere along the way, she had resigned herself to believing she wasn’t worth it.

That hurt like hell, but it served a purpose—it forced her to stay away; allowed her to convince herself that he was her boss, her mentor, and nothing more. That belief protected her; it had to. But standing face-to-face with the living embodiment of her imagined "perfect woman", that sinking feeling that had gripped her in Miami took over once again.

Bryce put his hand on the small of her back, his voice ushering her back to the present. "Come on," he said. "Let’s get you a drink.”

She hoped that was the end of it. That she could make a quick getaway and they could all go about their nights. But she only took a few steps when a familiar, deep timbre stopped her in her tracks.

“Kaycee,” Ethan called out, his chest tightening as he hoped she’d turn around.

She considered ignoring him... it was noisy enough for her to get away with it, and that might be for the best. But, damn it if that man wasn't like a magnetic field that she found herself unable to resist. She knew resistance had never been an option as she slowly turned to face him.

Lauren quietly watched the scene unfold, sensing the unspoken tension between them. She had barely introduced herself to Ethan and had no idea who this blonde woman was or why she was staring at him like that—but it was clear something was happening. Mercifully, she decided to give them space. With a small smile, she touched Ethan’s elbow and nodded toward the bar.

“Why don’t I grab a drink while you say hello. I'll wait there for you.” She extended a hand to Kaycee. “I'm Lauren, by the way."

"Kaycee,” she replied, doing her best to be polite. “It's lovely to meet you.”

Bryce seemed to take the hint as well and offered to get them drinks, leaving Kaycee and Ethan alone. As they stood face to face, she wasn't sure if she was feeling elation or dread.

“Dr. Ramsey,” Kaycee said, her voice much more confident than she felt.

Dr. Ramsey? Here? At Donahue’s? The formality felt like a slap in the face, yet he didn’t correct her. He had been so determined to get her attention, so intent on drawing her in—but now that he had it, his mind went blank, and he had no idea what to say.

“I'm surprised to see you here,” was all he could get out.

"At Donahue's?" She shrugged. "I'm always here. I’m surprised to see you given your disdain for Valentine's Day. I figured you’d be home, doing your best to escape it. "

“Honestly, that's where I'd prefer to be," he admitted with a chuckle.

“Really?” She crossed her arms, a brow arched high. "And yet, here you are... on a date, no less. On the most romantic evening of the year."

She saw him stiffen. He wanted to tell her the truth —it was just a blind date, one he’d reluctantly agreed to shut Naveen up. She knew how insistent he could be. This wasn’t what she thought, not even close. Hell, maybe she and Bryce could even join them, turn it into something entirely different. Anything but a date.

He wanted to say all of that, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he pressed his lips together and let his silence serve as an answer, and that silence stung Kaycee more than she’d ever admit.

“Well,” she said gruffly, forcing a smile. “I hope the night... and Lauren... turn out to be everything you hoped they'd be.”

Before he could reply, she turned on her heel, putting as much distance between them as possible. Bryce was at her side in an instant.

"Come on, gorgeous," he winked, draping an arm around her. It was protective, not possessive, but the distinction didn’t matter to Ethan. The sight of it left his blood boiling.

“Let’s grab that empty booth.”

Ethan barely registered Bryce’s words. His eyes never left Kaycee, every instinct was screaming at him to stop her, to tell her the truth. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. You can’t be with her, he told himself. Do the humane thing and let her go.

So he turned around, forcing himself to stroll back to the bar, where Lauren waited. Sliding onto the stool beside her, he motioned to the bartender for his usual drink.

“Everything all right?” Lauren asked, watching him curiously.

Ethan took a sip of his Scotch, then turned to the beautiful brunette. You made your choice. Own it.

Determined to salvage the night, he forced a smile. “Perfect. So… why did Naveen think it was so important for us to meet?”

~~~~~

The night marched on, Ethan and Lauren spent it engaged in a deep conversation over several rounds of drinks. Meanwhile, Kaycee and Bryce drank, danced, and shot pool with their coworkers, their laughter ringing through the bar. She was having a genuinely good time - or at least, that’s how it looked to Ethan’s watchful eye.

But acting happy was taking a toll on Kaycee, and before long, she was standing by the door with Bryce helping her into her coat.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay a little bit longer?” he said, offering his best puppy-dog eyes.

“Nah, I’ve already been out longer than I planned."

"But you've only been here two hours?"

"And that’s two hours more than I planned," she grinned, mussing his hair.

Bryce was adorable. He had been his usual fun, charming, and attentive self, but she just wanted to be home. Home, where she didn't have to pretend to be unphased by the man she wanted to be with sitting at the opposite end of the bar with someone else.

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Besides, I have these amazing pink fleece pajamas and a stack of romcoms just waiting for me to get back.”

“You sure know how to have a good time, MacClennan!” he laughed. Come on," he said, opening the door. I'll wait with you until your cab arrives."

“Make sure you text me when you get home!” he said, holding the door open for her.

She agreed and stepped inside, letting out a deep breath the moment the door shut. Victory. She had finally made it out of there. But just as relief settled in, her phone buzzed in her hand.

It's probably Bryce, she thought. After all, she was notorious for leaving things behind. But when she glanced at the screen, her eyes went wide. It wasn’t Bryce. It was him.

Ethan.

Not Dr. Ramsey. There were no pretenses here – not in her private world – here, Dr. Ramsey was simply her Ethan.

Can I talk to you outside?

Six words. Just six words was all it took to take her breath away. Her heart pounded, and she stared at her phone like she expected it to answer for her. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she told the driver to stop the car, not even a full block away from where he picked her up.

The driver shot her a confused look, but she handed him a few singles for a tip and rushed back out into the cold Boston night, furious at herself.

Miami wasn’t punishment enough for you, was it? Do you need to pour more salt on this wound?

She considered turning around, flagging down another cab, and going home like she originally planned. But then she saw him. Ethan was already standing outside in the distance, his tall frame unmistakable under the streetlights. And just like that, her resolve crumbled. She already knew the truth, she couldn't run away from him, even if she tried.

~~~~~

Ethan leaned against a parked car, his hands shoved in his pant pockets, as Kaycee approached. She shook her head - despite the frigid temperatures, he only wore a pullover sweater. She felt colder just looking at him and instinctively pulled her coat close.

She smiled nervously, hoping to break the tension she knew awaited her. “How are you not wearing a coat, Ramsey?”

His heart leaped at the sound of her voice – overwhelmed with gratitude that she had returned. “I’ve been in Boston for over a decade, MacClennan,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “Tonight is downright balmy to me.”

“Noted. Now, I’ll be sure to leave this city before that happens to me." She leaned on the spot next to him and let out a little sigh. “So, why’d you ask me to come back? What do you want, Ethan?”

His gaze dropped to his hands for a long moment, then his eyes flicked up to the sky before looking back at Kaycee.

“I... I don’t know,” he muttered.

He assumed she'd be angry—frustrated at the least. But if she felt either of those things, she didn’t let it show. Running a hand through her long blonde mane, her lips curving into a wry smile.

“Liar,” she said with a smirk.

And he had to laugh - because he knew it was true.

The air between them felt thick, filled with all the things that neither of them was willing or able to say until Ethan pushed off the car. “This was a bad idea,” he whispered, taking a step back toward the bar, but Kaycee wouldn't have it.

“Oh, no, Ethan Ramsey! In what world do you have the right to call me back here for no reason and get to walk off? That’s not happening!” She stepped in front of him, defiance in her eyes. “What! What do you want, Ethan?”

His face twisted. She was right. He was ashamed of his cowardice and she deserved better. What was it about this woman that turned him into a nervous adolescent again?

“I just wanted to let you know... Lauren," he stalled. "She was just a blind date. Tonight was the first time I met her, and, if I’m being honest... I only met her so Naveen would get off my back.”

Kaycee did her best to keep her expression neutral, even as she felt the warm rush of relief. “You didn’t owe me an explanation, Ethan. I'm just your intern. Or are you pointing this out to all of your other interns, too?”

“Stop,” he said, his façade beginning to crumble. “You know you’re much more than just an intern to me, MacClennan. You know it.”

“Do I?” She said, stepping closer, a silent challenge in her eyes.

He swallowed hard, taking in the sight of her in the moonlight. She looked ethereal, just as she had that night. It would be so easy to give in, so easy, but he couldn't.

“What I said in Miami still stands. It would be too risky for us to...to...”

“I know,” she said sadly, her eyes falling to the ground. “I know.”

He reached out and touched her arm, the spark evident even in that brief moment. “You deserve better, Kaycee. You deserve better than sitting around waiting for me.”

She looked up at him with a delicate smile, but it was impossible not to see the dejection in her eyes. “I know that, too.”

The silence stretched, and the whistling wind blowing down the lamplit street made their harsh reality feel even more bitter. She thought of retreating; what was the point of dragging out the pain? But instead, she took a step closer.

“Then again, it is only a few years, and,” she said, her voice teasing but laced with something raw. “For the record... I think I am worth waiting for.”

Ethan’s throat bobbed. He looked at her, really looked at her, as he felt the emotion settling inside him. He reached out and took her hand.

“You absolutely are,” he whispered.

Without a word, Kaycee placed her head on his shoulder, erasing the physical distance between them. Ethan didn’t allow himself to think. He didn’t worry about who might step outside, he ignored the myriad of reasons why he should let her go. Right now, he needed to relish the feeling of having her in his arms, holding her close like it was the most natural thing in the world.

They stayed that way for a long time, cherishing the warmth of each other’s touch, breathing each other in as if committing the moment to memory. It felt like a dream, a beautiful, precious dream.

But all dreams must come to an end. Soon, the sound of laughter approaching from the other side of the door snapped them back to the moment. Ethan jumped to his feet, and Kaycee stepped away. They turned to each other, reality rearing its ugly head.

“I... I should go,” she mumbled.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his eyes pained. “I suppose you should.”

“Thanks... thanks for letting me know, Ethan, and... have a nice night,” she muttered. “But not too nice, OK?”

“OK,” he chuckled. “I’m heading home anyway – alone.”

“Well, she shrugged. That’s up to you – I'm just your intern.” She took his hand once more, and he lifted it to his lips, kissing it tenderly.

“Good night, Ethan,” she smiled, and before he knew it, she was gone.

Ethan's heart ached as he watched her walk away, refusing to shift his gaze until she was out of sight. With a deep breath, he headed back toward the bar, pausing for a moment as his hand reached for the door.

It’s a few years, he thought. Just a few years.

But when your heart and mind are screaming that you've found the one... a few years may as well be a lifetime, and he just hoped she’d wait.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[thememoryofadream]

Passion Play - Just Thinking

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC

Summary: Dean meets a fellow hunter on a case and serious sparks fly. Sometimes, want and desire need an outlet....

Word Count: 1487

Tags/Warnings: Rated R for mature audiences only! The things one thinks about when thinking about Dean Winchester smut. 🔥

Passion Play Masterlist

Just Thinking

Dean looks up from his breakfast, feeling Sophia's gaze on him. The look in her eye sends a shimmer of heat right through him: she's looking at him like she's about to take the spoon she's eating her cereal with and devour him instead. He raises an eyebrow at her. "What?"

A sultry smile curves her lips and that shimmer of heat he's feeling kicks up another notch. "Nothing," she says, "just thinking."

He smirks. "Just thinking, huh? Thinking about what?"

She licks the remaining milk from her spoon, a strange glint in her eyes. He suppresses the urge to shiver.

Her voice takes on a husky tone that shoots straight to the base of his spine. "You."

He carefully sets down his fork and turns to watch her. "Thinking about me," he says thoughtfully. "Anything in particular?" He swallows hard as he watches her eyes darken.

The spoon clatters to the table and she stands. His gaze drifts down over her body, the tank top and shorts that looked demure when she went to bed last night now taking on a whole new character as she stretches, pulling the top tight across her breasts, causing his mouth to dry.

Sophia settles herself on his lap, straddling him and the chair. "Mmmmm, yeah," she purrs, "I'm thinking about your amazing mouth." Her thumb traces over his bottom lip, eyes on his. "I'm thinking of all the things you can do with it…things that give me soooo much pleasure."

Dean finds himself unable to make a coherent response to that as all the blood in his brain rushes south.

She shifts against him, moving her attention to his hands, hanging slack at his sides. She pulls them up, placing one at the top of her thigh, under the edge of her sleep shorts. The other she takes between her own and kisses the tip of each finger. "And I'm thinking about your hands. The way they touch me, how strong they are, how much they make me feel…" She kisses his palm, her tongue flicking out to draw tiny circles on his skin. He shivers and his other hand tightens on her thigh.

Dean takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head. All he really wants to do is snatch her up and drag her to bed, but this side of her is so unexpected and such a turn on, he wants to let her run with it. "I see," he manages. "Anything else?"

Carefully placing his hand on her hip, Sophia leans forward to brush her lips against his as she slides her hands under his shirt. "Oh yeah," she whispers on his lips, "I'm also thinking about your chest, and those incredible abs of yours." As she speaks, her hands are roving over the same areas, leaving scorching trails on his skin and quickening his breathing.

Sliding her arms around his waist, her hands move up his back. The change presses her closer to him, her breasts tight against him, her hips rocking forward over his. He closes his eyes for a moment and tries to think about baseball. That idea is blown all to hell when her lips brush his ear as she continues her torment.

"And now I'm thinking about your back and those shoulders." She hums, her tongue tracing the line of his earlobe. "They're so broad, and well muscled." She rakes her fingernails down his spine and Dean nearly comes off the chair. Her husky laugh in his ear only compounds the sensation. "I'm thinking about how your back looked in the mirror over the bed in that cheesy motel. How the muscles rippled every time you moved inside me, how my fingers slid over your spine."

He feels her shiver. At least he's not the only one turned on so much he can't see straight. He slips his hands all the way under her shorts and over her bottom, nearly passing out when he realizes she's not wearing any panties under them. "Jesus, Sophia," he mumbles, his hands kneading her bare skin. He buries his face in her neck, breathing in her warm scent, something citrus. His lips find the pulse on her throat, feels it beating wildly, circles his tongue over it. Her soft moan in his ear makes him shudder.

Sophia straightens, sliding her arms out from under his shirt and Dean nearly whimpers at the loss. That feeling is vaporized a heartbeat later when she pulls her tank top over her head and her breasts are exposed to him. He leans forward and swirls his tongue around her nipple. She sucks in a harsh breath and tangles her fingers in his hair, arching into his hot mouth.

After thoroughly exploring one breast, he moves to the other, giving it equal attention. His hands slide over the bare skin of her back, enjoying it's softness. He drags his mouth away from her breast, his breathing heavy. "What are you thinking about now?" he asks, meeting her eyes with a wicked grin.

"Deannnnnn," she whines, squirming against him. Her hands are still tangled in his hair, so she tilts his head so she can find his lips for a scorching kiss. "I'm thinking about all the things we still haven't done yet." She rocks forward, her hips rolling against his arousal, forcing a harsh groan from him. "I'm thinking about…" She can't quite complete the thought when his fingers slide under the waistband of her shorts to tease her.

"You were saying," he says against lips as he leans in for another kiss, his teasing hands still at work. She moans softly.

She meets his gaze, her eyes nearly black with desire. She leans into him and whispers, "I'm thinking about how good it's going to feel when I slide down over you, right here in this chair."

He stops breathing for just a second. Before he can catch his breath, she's dragging his t-shirt up over his head and planting hot, wet kisses all over his chest. He drops his head back, closing his eyes, burning up as she kisses her way back to his mouth. He tangles his fingers in her hair and captures that hot mouth with his own.

"Sophia," he says, placing little kisses on her face, "I want you, now…"

"Are you sure?" she asks, voice slow. "You don't want to play anymore?" She grinds her hips into his again, wicked smile on her lips.

"Very sure," he groans, stilling her hips. "And you're gonna miss out on the best part if you don't stop that."

She snickers and slides off his lap. He finds it difficult to keep himself upright in the chair, the heat they've been generating making him feel nearly boneless.

Her thumbs hook in the waistband of the shorts and she eyes him teasingly. "Still sure?" she asks with a wink.

He growls and makes a grab for her, which she dodges easily. She turns, slowly sliding the shorts down, bending over to step out of them and toss them out of the way, giving him a nice view in the process.

She moves back over him, reaching for the fastening on his jeans. He's about to lose his mind, looking at her standing in front of him, completely naked, skin flushed pink, lips red and swollen, hair tangled around her face. He grits his teeth as she frees him from his jeans, pushing them out of the way.

Their eyes meet and catch as she settles over him, both of them sighing softly. One of his hands finds the back of her head, bringing her in for a series of burning kisses. The other finds the soft skin of her thigh, urging her to move.

Sophia sets a slow, languid pace to start, rocking against him. Hands stroke heated skin, mouthes fuse, tongues tease, breathing becomes labored.

Dean's strong hands set a faster pace. Sophia's head drops back, her eyes close. Dean can hear the breathy pants that mean she's getting close and he struggles to hold back. He presses kisses along her collarbone as he murmurs her name. As his teeth nip along her throat, he feels her shudder, her body clenching around him. He moans against her skin, holding her tightly as he succumbs to her heat.

Sophia collapses onto his chest, burying her face in his neck as her breathing returns to normal. Dean strokes up and down her back, soothing and warm, as he places random kisses on the top of her head.

After a moment, she sits up, taking his face in her hands and kissing him softly. "Amazing," she says with a little sigh.

He grins, turning to kiss her palm. His eyes glint and his smile turns mischievous. "So, was that pretty close to what you were thinking?"

She laughs. Kissing him again, she whispers, "That was exactly what I was thinking…"

Feedback is love! ❤️

Tag List: @aylacavebear

[punkrockopossum]

"God's benevolent eyes turned away My prayers unanswered, this torment continues I am no child, I never was I'm a target, and that's all I will ever be."

finally i finished her design!! this is Target Girl, my TPTM oc/sona(?), her basis is that she feels trapped in a school that doesn't treat her like a person, due to one reason or another, she is socially ostracised and bullied relentlessly. The rope around her wrist makes it so she can't fight back, the ball and chain so she doesn't run away, and a piece of paper placed right on her heart so people know where to aim. i also accidentally made her British, I think. I didn't realize it, but the reference I was making was for a girls-only secondary school in the UK. I was looking up 1970s school uniforms and thought "oh that looks good", and failed to realize that I, infact, accidentally made her a brit. I think it's a little funny, though.

[httpsglitch]

Ahhhhhh! Thabk you for answeting my ask! 80s and 90s are so cute! They are both so well fitted esp the 90s, it reminds me of those loner teen character in some slasher/horror 90s films but you made him the slasher! 80s is also cute too!camp counselor, i bet if he is the friday the 13th or Sleepaway Camp, he is going to help Jason or Angela since most of the people in those camps are assholes and would even track down the ones who tormented Jason ( he is def invited to some Vorhees dinners since he is the first Camp councelor to care for Jason instead of mocking/ignoring him for not being an 80s asshole kid)

AAAAHHHHHH I'm so glad you liked their concept sketches!!!

These two were definitely based on the slasher movies: Friday the 13th, and Scream. Loosely anyway.

I finally put down their colors and I feel much more confident with their designs. I was kinda hesitant to make 80s a bleach blonde, but I slapped some brown roots on there, and it ended up actually looking nice with the rest of his color palette! And I decided to give 90s heavy wine stain birth marks to give some look variety between my characters. And I like to think he was heavily bullied for them as a way to explain his loner tendencies.

And I just find wine stain birthmarks really cool-

Oh! And I settled on names for them so we don't have to just call them 80s and 90s! (But we can still call them that in passing)

80s name is Corey, and 90s name is Isaiah!

I realized I put the names of the two most popular slashers under 80s "Name Ideas" list and... Yeah I didn't wanna base him off of them TOO much, lol

I also scrapped up Corey's camp!

Camp Coyote was actually an old OC setting idea of mine for another yandere OC that was scrapped, so I thought I'd use it here. And it works well since coyotes are often used to convey trickery and teach lessons. And I want Corey to be the trickster/revenge type.

I also have a basic outline for Corey's backstory. Now I just need to figure out what to put for Isaiah.

[kay-jay-self-shipping]

A Cute Little Snort

This is a little different to my usual character imagines, instead of my OC and their love interest, I'm going to make this an x reader thing for you guys!

So how would my usual cast of canon characters react if you laughed so hard you did a cute little snort? Let's find out~!

Orochimaru

"Hm, hm, hm, now there's a sound I've never heard from you before." He'd start with this line before going into full teasing asshole mode. He will take the piss out of you, but sound so charming while doing it that you won't know whether to be insulted or playful in return.

Expect him to get flirty and act all curious about what other kinds of noises you've been hiding from him. (Pst, he found it oddly endearing, he's just not the type to admit it or even show it.) -_-

Lotor

Oh my God, he's in shock. He will just look at you with heart eyes and an open mouth for a few seconds, before you'd catch him and get self-conscious. The moment you go quiet, he realizes what he's done and takes you in his arms, professing his love for you and everything you do.

"If I could spend the rest of my reign hearing that sweet laugh of yours, then I would be a happy man, Darling."

Mereoleona

"The hell was that? Are you a boar, or something?" Out of all of them, she's the rudest and blatantly mocks you for your snort. Depending on how you react, will depend on what she follows up with.

If you're genuinely hurt by her words, she'll place her fist against your forehead and tell you not to be so sensitive, something as small as a snort wasn't going to change her love for you, if anything, she loved you more for it. You're her little boar, after all.

If you get angry, she'll tease you relentlessly, draping an arm over your shoulder as she continues her incessant teasing until you're red in the face and practically demanding her to stop. She will if you give her a kiss first.

Either way, she's right, her love for you won't sour over a cute snort.

Piers

Okay, this shy boi doesn't know what to do when you snort at one of his lame jokes. He'll just stand there, wide eyed with a red face until you notice, then he'll stammer and tug at his choker nervously. Obviously, you'd be a fool to not take advantage of this moment to tease another blush out of him, right?

"I wasn't staring, I just... never heard you laugh like that before." >/////>

Leona

He's a blatant tease, if you laugh at his joke and snort, he'll purposely make you laugh more just to get you to make that noise again.

"What was that, little piggie? You can't breathe?"

Though if you get self-conscious, he'll plop his hand atop your head and tell you not to worry about it, he liked that noise you made. This cute line would somehow lead to you becoming his pillow for the rest of the day, while you internally scream at how happy his words made you.

Little Piggie had never been a nickname you'd be open to having, but maybe if it's from Leona, you can get used to it. ;)

Aaravos

Oh my God, don't let this man catch you making that noise! He knows you have a thing for his voice and will take any opportunity to torment you with it. That includes hearing such a cute sound from you and draping his arms around you as he whispers in your ear about how adorable you are to him.

"So my little starlight has been keeping secrets from me? I wonder what other wonderful sounds I can kiss out of you."

BTW he loved the noise so much, that if you snort around him again, his expression will just light up as he teases you, he loves having a reason to hold you in his arms, and that adorable sound was no exception.

Vax'ildan

Ohhh he's smitten, he is so, so, smitten!

The moment his crass language and cheeky joke make you snort, he feels like his soul left his body and went to heaven. He gets the heart eyes the second you make that sound and will stare at you with the biggest shit-eating grin you've ever seen.

The moment you notice though, he's blushing like a schoolboy and rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at anything but you. Tease him about it, please, it's too cute to ignore.

He will definitely go out of his way to make you laugh more often, I can guarantee it.

"S-sorry love, I didn't quite catch that last part? Hm, staring? No, no, I was just... A-anyway!" O///o

So there you have it, my favourite boys/girls and their reactions to the reader snorting during a cute laugh! Honestly, this is a little self-indulgent, I snort when I laugh and am really self-conscious about it, but I forget that a lot of people find it cute and if your F/O loves you, they probably would too!

Some may not say it outright, but they love every part of you, even that snort you might be ashamed of. :)

[dhorrl]

Initiation

MDNI 18+

Feitan/Original Character (I gave her a name after I decided to put descriptors)

Trigger Warnings:

BDSM

Knife/sword play

Blood play

Mentions of rape/pedophilia/torture (OC has a rough history)

Spoiler for the manga (death of a character)

AFAB/She/Her pronouns

Maybe others to be honest I tried to think of things that might bother people, but this is Feitan, you know what you’re getting yourself into.

I do have this as a sort of chaptered story saved somewhere, but I don’t know if anyone actually wants that or if they just want the smut.

Things had quieted down for the Phantom Troupe. Hisoka was still hunting them, but they had strength in numbers. Everyone rotated, staying with the boss, constantly two or three at a time, and always staying with someone else in the Troupe when not with Chrollo. They used this time to search out and find new recruits, ones with Nen abilities that would fill the gaps in their ranks, much to Feitan's dismay. He was still bitter about losing Shalnark, though he never let it show.

It seemed that, for now, Hisoka was laying low, although it was never a good idea to let your guard down with the sadistic magician. While he knew he was strong, even Hisoka was aware that he couldn’t take down the entire Troupe at the same time. Besides, his plan was to kill them all, one by one, to re-fight Chrollo on fair ground. His bitter desire for revenge fueled his patience. He also made it a point to kill anyone worthy of joining the Troupe, doing his best to prevent them from re-building.

Many of the new potential members that did make it through were vetted by Feitan. Chrollo wanted to ensure that anyone they added going forward could withstand endless torment since Hisoka was known to be vindictive. Who better to test them out than Feitan? The boss didn't realize Feitan used this trial to unleash his frustrations. Many were not leaving alive or in one piece.

"Feitan, I know I said to torture them, but perhaps leave one alive," Chrollo remarked calmly. Feitan replied, looking away from Chrollo, "They were not worthy. I only pushed to make sure they could endure it."

Still, he would attempt to present the boss with a new member soon. Phinks mentioned he had located someone with abilities that might throw Feitan for a loop, though he shrugged it off. He was starting to feel bored. The people making it through to him were not even close to being worth his time, and he had suspected for a while that Hisoka was behind it all.

Phinks ushered the latest prospect into Feitan's chamber within their warehouse on the outskirts of Meteor City. He was not predicting what he saw. This slim, petite woman, even shorter than he, stood in a black skirt, tank top, and combat boots. Her jet-black hair was back in a simple braid. Her simple attire stood to accentuate the sharpness of her jaw, the softness of her eyes, but those things were not what grabbed Feitan's attention. His gaze went to her arms and legs, entirely covered with scars. Anyone who received that sort of treatment from him would be dead. Yet, she glanced casually at the instruments around the room and the dried blood stuck to the floors and the wall.

“Hey, Feitan, this is Jun.” Phinks said. "Jun here is gonna be our new member, I'm sure of it."

Feitan snapped. "I'll decide that, Phinks. Did you give her the password?"

Phinks smirked. The interrogation strategy went as such; another member would give the nominee a word or phrase, and Feitan's assignment was to extract that information by any means possible. "Oh yeah, she's got it already. I won't give anything away, but she's gonna be a tough nut to crack. Good luck, Feitan." Phinks winked at Jun in his feeble attempt at flirting.

Jun rolled her eyes, annoyed. "Well, come on, let's see what you got." She beckoned Feitan towards her as she stepped to the center of the room. She almost seemed bored, as if she was testing Feitan as much as he was testing her. "So, Feitan, is it? Chains or no chains?" She gestured towards the ties around the wooden chair where he secured his marks.

Feitan's eyes tightened. He despised feeling like he was being told how to do his job. "Definitely chains," he said as he tied her to the seat. There was no resistance from her; she was almost helping as she moved her arms around into a perfect position for tying.

"Do your worst; I give you permission to do anything you like." Jun shot a look at Feitan. "Although I doubt you'll cross any of my lines. Punch me, kick me, stab me, burn me; it's all the same." She leaned against the chair with a heavy sigh.

Feitan felt suspicious; he was confident in his abilities to break anyone, but this person put him on edge. At the same time, however, he felt strangely aroused. She was beautiful, the mess of scars on her flesh only making her more so in his eyes.

He shook it off, reached for a blindfold, and covered and secured her eyes, preferring to give her no sign of what might be coming next. He closed his own eyes, reminding himself again to try and keep her alive. If she was worthy of the Phantom Troupe, then breaking too many bones or removing body parts wasn’t on the table. Still, dislocating a few joints was a different story, as well as deep cuts and wounds that Machi could fix up. Hell, if he did cut off her arm, Machi could just sew it back on. However, Machi was away on another job and wouldn’t be back for a while. He imagined the cut off parts would still need to be fairly fresh for reattachment.

Once he felt he had a good plan that didn’t involve tearing her from limb to limb, he balled up his fist, and punched her forcefully in the stomach. A direct hit like that alone would take down many a strong man, and that’s without using Nen. Jun gagged for a moment, the wind knocked out of her. Blood splattered from her throat. He smiled, watching as the warm, red liquid began dripping from the corner of her mouth. He thought to himself, “This won’t take long at all.” But then, he heard her laugh.

"That's the best you got?" she murmured through strained breaths. Feitan was enraged. He restrained himself from punching a hole through her chest cavity. He reached behind her, grabbing at her index finger and pulling it in a perfect jab, dislocating it from the joint. She yelped slightly, but then continued laughing. Next was the pinky finger, popping from the joint with a satisfying snap, then pressing down to increase the pain.

Jun knew she could take more because she already had. She thought back to her childhood. Ever since she was little, her father and his friends gathered and did evil, wretched things to her. Her mother looked the other way when Jun would come home with her father covered in bandages and bruises. But Jun was strong, strong enough to stay alive. Until one day, her screams and cries no longer satiated their desires. Jun was too old for them now. The day her father took her sister out of the house and came back alone was the day Jun lost herself. Her rage towards her father, mother, and the men who hurt her and her sister was too much. She swore to kill every last one of them... and she had.

Jun was a stubborn target, but Feitan had his share of those before and still managed to crumble their will. The difference, however, is he could always use threats of death, where here he was really having to restrain himself. Feitan continued, hitting her across the face, narrowly resisting from breaking her jaw. Again across the right side near her eye, then again on the left. Once he was satisfied with where he was, he snarled. "Tell me the password."

Jun was quiet, and he thought he was getting close to breaking her. Then the silence was broken by a maniacal laugh through heavy coughs. "Come on, little man, you barely got started."

Feitan grit his teeth. Jun was mocking him? "You talk shit, I see." His patience was usually so strong, but she was pushing his buttons. He grasped the small double-edged tanto from his pocket and impaled her in the abdomen. Jun let out a moan that echoed through the chamber, causing Feitan to take a step back. He'd heard many sorts of cries from his victims, but that was unexpected. "Oh, did I not mention? The more you hurt me, the more it turns me on." Her tongue darted out, licking her lips sensually.

Jun's laugh was full of her own insanity. To Feitan, the unhinged sound rang like music to his ears. He bore the knife into her throat. He had an idea that would probably end him, but he was losing control. "I'm going to make you tell me the password. But first, I'm going to have some fun." He drug the knife across her throat, not entirely through but just enough to make her bleed. She bit her lip, enjoying the sensation of cold metal through her skin. He persisted, cutting off her shirt and skirt keeping him from the rest of her tender flesh. He couldn’t take his eyes off the scars that littered the rest of her body, her torso and hips and even her back. He found a few areas where the skin had yet to be touched, and ran the knife across, barely pressing down to just break the skin. Jun’s body bucked into the knife, enjoying the pain and aching flushing through her body. She hated herself for how fucked up this all ways, how she savored and craved this feeling. As for Feitan, he felt awakened in a way he'd never quite experienced.

He leaned over and licked the blood dripping down her neck onto her chest. Jun’s body shook with desire. She had not been anticipating that. It caused an involuntary groan as Feitan's tongue glided through the blood and sweat.

"Fuck, I thought you were supposed to be torturing me, Feitan." She was panting, feeling the heat rising between her legs. Jun couldn't help but tease him, poking to see how much more he would give her.

"There are many types of torture, you know," he whispered in her ear, his deep voice giving her goosebumps. "I happen to be an enthusiast of all types." He pushed the knife back into his pocket and removed the blindfold covering her face. Blood was dripping from Jun's nose, and deep purple bruises formed over her face. Her right eye was swollen shut. He had done his best not to break her jaw, but he did some severe damage. Her seductive gaze drew him in closer, then she spit blood into his face.

Feitan stood there motionless, then brushed the blood from his face. He took her throat in one hand, pressing down on her windpipe. "Next time you speak to me, you will tell me the password." With his other hand, he parted her legs and slid his fingers into her core, surprised but pleased to feel she was dripping wet. She moaned hoarsely through his hold on her throat. He continued working his fingers in while sliding his thumb over her clit. He wanted to soak his hand in her, savor her forbidden juices with his fingers.

Still grasping her throat, he lightly released enough for her to take a deep breath, then pressed back. She leaned back, trying to use the back of the seat as leverage to grind harder onto his hand. She was so close to release, just a little further…

Feitan withdrew both his hands. Jun took a deep gasp, and tears welled in her eyes. He examined his fingers, dripping with sticky fluids. His fingers glided through the blood dripping down her chest and slid into her mouth, mixing everything together. He grabbed her neck and shoved his own tongue in next, wanting to taste the salty, bloody mix of fluids. Once he pulled away, she eyed him for a moment. "Fuck you. I guess you're really playing hardball now."

Feitan flew back at her. Within seconds he adjusted her chains, forcing her to the ground on her knees and securing her hands to her feet behind her. He removed his black overcoat and undid the tie on his pants. "Fucking brat, I told you not to speak unless you tell me the password." He pulled down the front of his pants and pulled out his cock, hard and leaking.

Jun drooled, astounded at the girth of the man with such a small stature. Feitan snatched her by the hair and shoved himself down her throat, acting as the gag to keep her from speaking again till he let her. Jun’s eyes were ravenous as she looked up at Feitan, who she noticed was cruel and sadistic in the best ways. He was like her personal demonic angel, supplying the suffering she yearned for. Jun could sense that Feitan was in his element, and so was she. She was suffocated by him, exhilarated that he was violating her in such a way. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, picking up speed with animalistic want. Watching the tears run down her face, he felt like a god among men.

Feitan could feel himself getting close. His body was spasming, but he continued to mangle her throat, even through her gags and heaving and watched her take all his creamy nectar. He withdrew his cock, and she looked up into his eyes, tongue out to show the finished product painted inside her mouth. The sticky cum was melting down her face, then she tucked it in to swallow, licking the aftermath off her lips. Feitan's perverted mind was ecstatic. "So, ready to tell me?"

Jun's eyes were glazed with submission. "I'll tell you... if you please let me cum, too."

“You act like you have upper hand here. If you want to finish, “he grabbed her by the throat, “you will tell me password.”

Hot tears were forming at the edge of her eyes, feeling the heat between her legs pulsing and close but not able to give her the satisfaction she was craving. “If I tell you, and you let me finish,” she whimpered, “am I still going to be a Spider?”

Feitan's primal urges opened up. He knelt in the pool of blood surrounding her and untied her chains, releasing her arms from above. Then he laid back on the concrete floor, unbothered by the horrifying mess that had been created. Jun saw her opening and crawled on top of him, hovering over his still erect member. She glided along the shaft, soaking it in her wetness before slipping it inside. It felt amazing. All the sensations of touch, taste, and smell she was experiencing were explosive. Feitan used his thumb to circle around her sensitive nerves, and Jun couldn't take anymore. She screamed loud, the orgasmic pulses shooting through her body. She crumpled forward, laying her head on Feitan's forehead. "By the way, the password is "password." Totally worth it, though." Feitan lay there quietly momentarily, then an honest laugh escaped his lips. He sat up, entangling his hands in her hair, and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "I bandage you up. You bleed out."

Jun’s eyes sparkled. “Watch this.” She stood up, closed her eyes, and Feitan noticed the distinct glow of Hatsu around her. He tensed a moment, preparing for the worse, but relaxed when he saw the stab wound close as if it had never happened. Each open cut and scrape sealed. Once the last one disappeared, she released her focus and opened her eyes to see Feitan’s awed expression. He stood up and approached her, running his finger over the spot he had stabbed earlier. A faint, smooth scar was there. He noticed that all of the gashes he made were like that, like whispers on her velvety skin, but that others were raised and rough. He put together that those had to be before she developed her abilities. There were hundreds more scars like those.

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to whisper in her ear. "Spider now. Let's do again sometime."

[radioisntdead]

REGARDING THE SNIPPETS BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN BLESSED BY THE GIFT OF YOUR WRITING

Love above love: “He more or less did nothing wrong, just came down to slaughter sinners” oh Adam sweetie no, that’s genocide. 

I can’t even take a quote from felt and flesh the entire thing is just. AHHH *several aggressive chefs kisses*. The DESPAIR AND ANGUISH I CANNOT WAIT. 

Shady: “Being able to say you beat the radio demon in a gambling match would be a nice flex” lolll. And as we all know he won and they are now best friends 😀

Your writing is so yummy. It’s my favourite food. Absolutely scrumdiddlyumptious. NOM. You are cooking and it smells amazing. Obviously don’t rush yourself but I must say I am looking forward to reading the full things because YUMMMYYYY.

You have to feed me through the baseboards since I live in your walls now btw. 

-🦋

AAAA I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED THE SNIPPETS!!!

With love above love it's so RARARARAR, I can't spill much about it because I'm stuck with a gap in the middle that I'm working on but I can say it involves this song and redemption >:] and Adam getting tormented by Niffty

I haven't written much for Adam but it's so FUN EXPLORING HIS MINDSETS AND CHARACTER, and I'm especially proud of this paragraph here, I need to clean it up a bit but RARARA

I'm definitely planning on writing more for the heaven folks too, especially with their mindsets, the line between what is considered good and bad, on one side they think what they are doing is good but the reality it's not, and I definitely have some stuff in mind regarding Charlie and Emily, maybe Sera too, because none of them, despite interacting with Sinners and winners, they've never actually been human, and I don't know if Lute is heavenborn or not but depending which prospective I wanna write her with AAAA, I actually have a fic idea involving her with her spouse and I don't know what the plot is but I do have the readers halo shattering, and it progresses throughout the fic, just it starts with a few cracks here and there before shattering >:]

With felt and flesh, I uh, may have gotten VERY CARRIED AWAY, It's for this one request with a Muppet reader and I would like to state that I cried while writing, and I'm still not done with it because I decided to add more to it, but the reader deals with lost of their identity, and especially being used as a puppet, and going from being flesh and blood to, felt and being an actual Muppet, it does have a happy/bittersweet??? Ending though!

WITH SHADY AAAA, another song fic, I heard this song from the great Gatsby musical and my brain IMMEDIATELY went "OVERLORD HUSK." I think I screamed about it in my discord server??

I checked and I very briefly mentioned it, then got distracted by Panini's

I'm pretty sure one of my after fic yaps that I have in my drafts is just about Panini's...

Anyways I'm actually almost done with shady! I just gotta figure out some shenanigans, Husk is low-key a father figure to the reader in this >:]

Speaking of the asformentioned daycare fic I cannot write jealousy for the LIFE OF ME, I am great at writing daycare things through, fun fact! Ages ago I used to write for FNAF security breach, I had a whole fic with OCS, most of them have ironically been recycled, my OCs Cleo and Ezra specifically have become hazbin OCS, one also became one of my Sona/self insert oc's sisters :]

Anyways I need to get that fic out it's almost been a year since it's been requested and that's not good...

I'm so glad you like my writing!!! I canonically do my cooking in a fancy easybake oven >:]

And I hope you like pasta because that's what we're having for dinner tonight but since that's not done yet here's more snippets!!

The daycare fic, a songfic with an Roo/Eve/ Epic the musical's Calypso coded reader >:] and a pierrot clown reader hehehe

And as a bonus some OC fics I have too with some scattered about lore, >:]

I really need to post them because THE THINGS I'VE DONE TO THEM.

I hope you enjoy these snippets 🦋!!!! Have a wonderful day/night!!!

[sp1cyrobofucker]

this fic was made for @archie-sunshine! forrest is his oc and spiny is mine <3 ngl... i forgot about forrest's tits and just focused on humiliated him XD

Good Dog

"Feeling good?" Spiny's tongue was rough, and Forrest squirmed as he laved over an exposed nipple. It tickled, but a sharp pinch to his other nipple quickly twisted the giggle of amusement into a moan of delight.

"Y-Yeah." Forrest's back arched as a hand snuck underneath the waistband of his shorts. "Spiny-" His voice cut out as that same hand wrapped firmly around his dick, long manicured fingernails gently stroking along the soft flesh of his manhood. He wasn't hard yet, but Forrest could feel the blood pumping away from his brain and into his lower groin.

"Want me to stop?" There was a playful mirth in Spiny's eyes, tongue flicking out to stroke tenderly against one of his nipples as his removed his hand from Forrest's pants. That wonderfully smooth voice, deep and rich like melted chocolate sent tingles up Forrest's spine

"No!" Forrest whimpered, grabbing Spiny's hand and guiding it back towards his dick. "I just... I don't want to get caught." He felt his face flush as Spiny's hand instead petted over his stomach, the other reaching up to cup a handful of his left pec. Spiny was nice, he didn't tease Forrest for nearly busting the buttons on his shirt like the other rangers did. It wasn't his fault his pecs were so big! He was simply... well endowed.

"You know nobody comes all the way out here Smokey." Spiny assured him, effortlessly undoing the buckle on Forrest's belt and undoing his zipper in another fluid motion. Immediately Forrest's dick tented once released from its out prison of cloth and it sprung up with an embarrassing drip of precum drooling from its tip as Spiny pulled down his underwear. "And besides." He cooed lovingly, reaching up with his free hand to pinch one of Forrest's cheeks as he pressed a single finger on top of his dick. "Everybody already knows you're a big dumb slut. Nobody would be surprised if we got caught."

"Spiny~" Forrest whimpered, back arching as a mouth latched firmly over his nipple. He changed his mind, Spiny was worse than the other rangers. They had the decency to stick to light hearted teasing instead of tormenting him with saccharine words and overwhelming pleasure. He made the mistake of looking down when a hand gripped his dick. It was obscene. His foreskin had never been very cooperative, clenching tight around the very tip as his dick grew more and more aroused. Not that Spiny seemed to mind, dipping a finger underneath the flexible flesh and pulling. "SPINY!"

More precum dribbled from the tip, a humiliating little spurt that splattered over Spiny's slender fingers. "My my." Spiny chuckled, voice still soft and gentle and so kind that it made Forrest's heart hurt. "Making a mess already sweetheart? I thought I trained you better than that puppy~"

"I'm sorry." Forrest wanted to bury his face in his hands. "I didn't mean-"

"It's fine." Spiny's smile was downright devious. "This is for you anyways." That awful terrible tongue pressed flat against puckered flesh and as the hint of teeth just barely grazed his nipple. Electric arousal shot through Forrest's body and he could feel his cock releasing more and more precum as his brain fogged with lust. "C'mon Forrest." Spiny grinned up at him and Forrest knew it was over. "Cum for me, my sweet little slut~"

It was humiliating how easy he obeyed, cock jerking in Spiny's loose grip as his mind broke into nothing but the sensation of a wet mouth sucking hard on his nipple and a pair of fingers still stretching his foreskin beyond what it probably should've.

"Good boy." Oh Spiny was proud of him! Forrest felt a dopey grin spread across his face. He was a good boy for Spiny! "Yes, very good puppy." He was a good puppy. He came for his master when ordered. "Do you want another one?"

Eagerly, Forrest nodded his head. He was a good boy, he wanted to cum again. He wanted to feel pleasure rushing through his veins and the coo of Spiny's wonderful voice in his ear.

"You're sure?" Spiny asked gently, and how was Forrest supposed to say no when he lifted his cum covered fingers to his mouth and sucked.

"Yes!" Forrest whined, already missing the feeling of Spiny’s mouth on his pecs. "I want it please!"

"Alright." Spiny rose to his feet and took Forrest's face in his hands. "Then get on your knees puppy, I'm putting your mouth to work."

Forrest scrambled to the floor, ignoring the delicious burst of pain as his heavy cock scrapped against the hardwood floor of the restock cabin. He was a good boy and he was going to do so good and he was going to be rewarded for his efforts. 

“Good boy.” Spiny grinned. “Now sit still like a good dog and wait.” 

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Home (Not So) Sweet Home

Chapter Four of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: A trip to jail was not on your list for things to accomplish during the short time you were home in Pigeon Creek. But, like most of the predicaments you find yourself in, it's all thanks to Jake. So much for a half an hour trip into town to get the papers signed and then back to New York soon afterwards. Instead you get a high-speed trip down memory lane as Pigeon Creek, and Jake himself, dredge up ancient history.

Themes: angst, love, smut, attraction

Warnings: Mentioned miscarriage (non-graphic) Please do not read anything between As your belly grew and the bed sheets if this is an uncomfortable topic for you. I have italicized those sections in this to account for this.

Word Count: 2719

A/N: First of all, I'm sorry this chapter is a bit late! I went shopping today because I needed a new coat and I just got back home! This is the chapter where we get to see a little bit more of Jake and Linley's relationship after the seven year separation they've been on. It's nothing short of explosive! All of my thanks to @desert-fern for beta-reading and refining this chapter for me!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

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Well, you ended up in jail. You've never once been able to out-dare Jake in your life and you weren't able to out-dare him today either. When Jake had unplugged the phone and taken it to the bedroom, it had been to call the Sheriff. The Sheriff of Pigeon Creek and you have a contentious relationship, to put it lightly. Too many run-ins with the law for your comfort when you were much younger and more foolish. Of course, just as the sirens show up on the front lawn, you're already booking it for the back door. This is the last thing you need, getting arrested on your first day back in Pigeon Creek. The only person you can call other than Jake is your dad. Fuck! Maybe you ought to leave quietly and come back later?

But to your surprise it isn’t the old Sheriff you tormented as a teen. It's Mickey Garcia, and he walks right in through the back door. You grew up with Mickey. He’s Jake’s best friend and somebody Jake loves like a brother. Hell, Mickey was Jake’s best man at your ill-fated wedding. Really, if Jake believes Mickey would ever arrest you, then he has another think coming, or so you thought.

“Well, well, well… If it isn’t Misdemeanor Mitchell!” There’s a huge grin on his face showcasing the new smile lines around his eyes and the dimples in his cheeks.

“Mickey?!” You’re wrapped up in your first hug since you got back home and you can’t help the smirk you throw at Jake over Mickey’s shoulder.

“Hot damn, girl, did we miss you around here!” He holds you out at arm length and drinks you in. 

“Hey, I think I saw poor, old Fuzz just the other day.” You laugh at his words because you haven’t thought about Fuzz in years. You hope that old cat is doing well, even after all this time. But, it looks like some things will never change, like how Pigeon Creek is never going to forget why you’re so notorious.

“Oh, God, you just had to bring that up, didn’t you?” You can sense Jake’s irritation from where he’s leaning on the wall and it drives your smile even wider.

“I can't believe you're the sheriff!” The last time you saw Mickey he was moving to college on a baseball scholarship.

It doesn’t surprise you at all when his voice takes on a flirtatious tone. “Yep, I get to frisk pretty little things like you all day and get paid for it!”

Jake’s scoff breaks up the convivial atmosphere. “Mickey, can you try and be a little more professional? We got us a prime suspect here! This woman broke into my house!” 

You just know the man’s smirking again. Is it so hard to just sign some papers and be done with this whole situation? Now he’s dragging Mickey into this? Why the hell is your ex-husband so impossible to live with?

"Aww, Linley, you know that you can't trespass in other people's houses." He's smiling as he looks between Jake and you.

"I'm not trespassing, Mick. I used my key." You tug it out of your bag as proof, noticing how Jake’s eyes darken at the sight of the spare key he’s never known how to find.

"Honey, I'm sorry, but whether you have a key or not, I'm going to have to escort you out of here." He sounds genuinely sorry for your plight.

Jake, of course, has something smart-alecky to say, like always. "In handcuffs please, Mick." 

"Mick, if you can get him to sign these papers, I'll let you run me out of town as fast as you want." You pull the papers out.

“Don’t drag him into this, Linley.” Bullshit. Jake’s the one that dragged Mickey into this. He could have just signed the papers and you’d have left town fifteen minutes after you’d blown in. He wanted to play hardball, hardball is what he’s going to get. You hand the papers to Mick and watch Jake’s expression change even as a smug grin curls your lips.

"Sorry, man. If you're still married, this is her house too. So at most, this is a domestic disturbance. I don’t see anything to arrest anybody for." He turns back to you with a wink. "Unless, that is, Jake hit you. Now, honey, you'll tell me if Jake over there ever hurts you in any way, right? Cause we take that kinda thing seriously now."

Jake's face falls just a little as you glance coolly over his grease streaked face. You’re not sure what he thinks you’re going to say. But the realization feels like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head. He thinks you’re going to lie and say despicable things about him, doesn’t he?

Your voice is soft, softer than it has any right to be."Naw, Mickey. Jake's never hurt me. Not a day in his life." 

Jake tries any and every way to get you out of the house. But none of them work until he mentions how Mrs. Garcia's tractor ended up in the pond and how there was an open warrant out for the perpetrator still. That rat bastard. 

Now you're sitting in a chair in front of Mickey's desk wearing handcuffs contemplating who you can call to get you out of jail. Mickey's on the phone with his ma, letting her curse you out in Spanish. You don't really have many options. Your dad and Jake are the only two people who'd ever bail you out if you were in trouble. For obvious reasons you can't call Jake. So your dad it is.

You dial the number you've known by heart for most of your life and have barely used for the past seven years and wait. It's only a few minutes before he picks up.

"Hello?" He sounds exhausted, like he does after working a particularly grueling shift at the shop.

"Dad? Surprise, it's Linley!" His voice makes you feel safe.

"Hi, kiddo! This is a surprise! I wasn't expecting to hear from you for a while!" That statement hurts.

"Dad, it's not the call that's the surprise. I'm actually in town." His little intake of breath has tears flooding to your eyes.

"Really? Well, kiddo, you didn't have to call. You can drop by the house anytime you want." After the fight you had before you left, how can he still welcome you home?

"I know, Dad. But that's not why I called. I'm in custody at the Pigeon Creek Police Department." 

You can hear his fond smile with every word and it makes your eyes roll. "I should've known you would have already gotten into trouble. I'll be there in fifteen, kiddo. I love you." 

You murmur your love back and settle back into the chair to wait. It’s a formality after your dad works through the doors of the Sheriff’s Office to get you out of handcuffs. You may have had to profusely apologize to Mrs. Garcia, but at least you’re not in a jail cell for the night.

Of course, as soon as you’re in your dad’s truck, he lets you have it. Mickey had kindly offered to drop your rental car off, so your bags are in the backseat.

“You just got into town. How in the world did you end up in jail again, huh?” He sounds so relaxed at having rescued his only child from jail. Since this was not an uncommon occurrence in your teenage years, it’s a little shocking that he’s not more worked up about this. After all, you’re twenty-five and an adult. Childish things like getting dragged off to the Sheriff’s office should be behind you.

You shrug as your dad drives you home. The roads are dark, illuminated only by the streetlights spitting out fat pools of golden light. “Jake and his big fat mouth. It’s just a misunderstanding, Daddy.”

“Why don’t you try to fix things with Jake, kiddo?” You sink a little bit deeper into the seat. “I went to all that trouble to pay for that wedding after all.”

“Daddy! That was hardly a wedding! He was hungover, threw up all over my dress and then I had to go to our reception alone, in my puke covered dress while he got to sleep off his hangover. It’s not exactly a wedding I want to remember.” It fills you with disgust to think of the heirloom lace of your Grandmother’s wedding dress getting ruined like that. You’d managed to save it, of course, but it’s something you still haven’t forgotten. That first night should have been the first evidence that you and Jake would never work out. But you were young and stupid and in love. So you disregarded every bit of evidence until something big enough came up that you couldn’t ignore anything anymore.

“He’s a good guy. Just give him another chance!” This is why you fought with your dad before you left. He’s always been fond of the Seresins. He has been since your ma skipped out on you both when you were two years old. His soft spot for Jake is so strong that he never sees anything wrong with a single decision he makes - including throwing up on his baby girl on her wedding day and everything else that went wrong afterwards. He’s never once been willing to see that maybe Jake was a little bit to blame as well. But no, that dubious honor only ever went to you.

“You always side with him, daddy! He’s the son you’ve never had, I know. But I’m your daughter. Your only daughter and you don’t even care to know what I’ve been doing with my life?!” Your breathing is a little ragged. This is why you’ve never come home over the past seven years. Why would you when your dad had something better, someone better than you in the boy you’d lost everything to? The hand that covers yours is warm and jolts you out of the impending spiral your thoughts try to yank you into.

“Alright, sweetheart, tell me what’s going on.” You’re not sure whether he’s just humoring you, but now’s your chance to tell him. How he’ll take the news and whether he’ll be okay with it, you don’t know. But you have to tell him.

“I… met somebody. He’s a catch. He’s in politics, his family is in politics, and I love him.” Your dad doesn’t so much as blink. The radio’s off and you sit in silence, trying to gain control over your fraying emotions.

It’s not until you’re back in the house that you pickup the conversation again.

“He asked me to marry him, daddy. It’s why I needed to talk to Jake. He needs to finally give me that divorce.” Your dad tugs you onto the sofa and takes your hands in his own.

“Are you sure about him, kiddo?” Your dad’s green eyes look deep into your own. A lot of you may be Pete Mitchell, but the one trait of his you never inherited were his eyes. Your eyes are your mama’s, and most of the time you’re glad her eyes are the only part of her you’ve inherited.

“I - I don’t know, Daddy. He makes me happy when I’m with him. He makes me happier than I have been in a long time.” You’re so confused. Coming back to Pigeon Creek was supposed to be easy. You sit with your dad on the overstuffed sofa facing the tv for a long while. The silence is draining, but you can’t force yourself to get up and walk away or break it. 

It’s your dad who breaks the tense hush overtaking the living room. “Alright, kiddo. If he makes you happy then that means that he’s automatically got my approval. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. We’ll see what we can do about Jake. But right now, your old man needs to get into bed. It’s been a long day for me, and I’m sure it’s been just as long for you. Why don’t you head to bed?” Your nod is mechanical as you walk into your childhood bedroom and lay down. You’re asleep in minutes, but your sleep is anything but satisfactory.

All of a sudden you're thirteen, fifteen and seventeen again, noticing the changes in your best friend, noticing how all the girls see him in a way only you've ever seen him before. You remember the urge to ensure he loved you as much as you loved him. You still remember his words from the day you and Jake were struck by lightning, "Will you marry me, Linley?" 

Ten year old you was an idiot. Jake Seresin, quarterback and All-American heart-throb, wanted you to marry him and you told him no. It's a decision you kick yourself over every now and again, especially when you see Mindy Jefferson making out with Jake behind the bleachers one afternoon. Is it possible to be both jealous and sad at the same time? Because that's what you are.

You spend most of your senior year of high school feeling like that. The night of the last football game of the year is when everything changed. You'd hitched a ride with Jake home, and Pigeon Creek is not the biggest town. You should've guessed something was up when he drove the opposite direction from home. When he kissed you, you'd melted. When he pulled you into the bed of his truck you went willingly. And when he made love to you under the stars, you climaxed with tears in your eyes.

There were tears of a completely different kind in your eyes as you sat in your bathroom with a multitude of drugstore pregnancy tests on the counter in front of you three months later. You had to tell Jake and your dad and his mom. Obviously all of Pigeon Creek knew within an hour. That was why you'd married Jake. For the baby that was half of you and half of him. Other than the aforementioned reception incident, the two of you settled into matrimonial bliss quite easily. Jake gave up his dreams of pro football, deferring college to work at the tire factory. You had taken in mending, sewing, and darning to help. 

As your belly grew, so did your happiness. At least until the night you woke up to red streaking your thighs and staining the bed sheets. After you lost your baby, you weren't sure how to be with Jake, not anymore. He tried to be strong for you, be your rock when you were grieving. But it was just putting more stress on your relationship. You weren’t sure you could ever be enough for Jake, not anymore. The fissures in your relationship became suddenly, wholly apparently clear.

So one day, while Jake was at work, you'd left a note on the bedside table along with your wedding ring and gone to see your dad. You told your dad why you were leaving, fought with him when he objected to your decision and bought a bus ticket to New York with everything you owned in a bag. You've never told another soul why you left, though you’re sure most of Pigeon Creek could assume the reason why, especially considering how you’d been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. You're not sure that even Jake knows the real reason why you left. It wasn't the fights or yelling or how Jake wanted you to stay home when you wanted to chase your dreams, either. It was because you couldn't face him after your body had destroyed the one thing you loved more than Jake - the one thing you only had because of Jake.

Ancient history clouds your thoughts when you wake up the next morning. Your head is in a fog of what was. More than ever you're filled with the urge to leave Pigeon Creek, maybe for good. But first you need to make a couple of phone calls, withdraw some change from the bank and go talk to Jake again. Maybe this time you’ll finally walk away with the divorce signed? If only it could be so easy.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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[bardic-perdita]

Can I get 19 and 33 for your guys? :3c

Of course! I debated whether to add snippets of my fic writing to this, so I hope you don't mind me making my usually long answers even longer 😅

Ask list here:

Answers below the cut and warning for general durge things:

What is your OC’s preferred method of death?

(I'm not sure if by 'death' it means killing or dying, but the latter is more angsty so I'll answer that.)

Breoch knows what dying feels like. He knows how it feels to suffer and feel his life unravel in threads of agony, but be denied the serenity of death. He knows and he wants to never feel that pain again. If he were to die, as he'd try as many means as possible to avoid it, then he'd wish to die painlessly. He'd want to die suddenly before he knows he's dying at all.

Shrike is the opposite. As a bhaalspawn, when they die then they want to die fighting. They want the pain and the anguish; they want to feel like they're dying so they can cherish every last beat of their faltering heart. They believe they deserve to suffer for the pain they've caused so many others, so to die in torment seems a fitting end for Bhaal's former chosen.

Zeke would rather die quickly. The method doesn't really matter to him, so long as it doesn't last too long. He's been on the verge of death so many times, but he was saved by his patron. To finally be released by his father and allowed to begin his new life in the Hells would be a relief after centuries of uncertainty.

How does your OC let out anger?

Breoch, unsurprisingly for somebody that's part ice-dragon, has a very cold anger. He never shouts or loses his composure. He will seeth and snarl, but his words will cut sharper than any dagger ever could. Annoy him, and he will cut you with his wit. Anger him and he will let his silence speak of his disapproval. Cross him and he will cut your throat without even a hint of hesitation. Feeling any emotion at all would give the impression that he cares, so he'll feel neither pleasure nor remorse in your destruction.

(I'd literally just typed up some more fic that shows Breoch getting angry, so uh...here's a snippet of what that would look like. For context, this is very early Act One Breoch and the two had been forced to share a tent: )

Breoch couldn’t read Astarion’s reaction at all, but he could detect pity even in its most concealed form. He detested being pitied.

“What?”

“Oh nothing. I suppose I should have expected it to be something like that.”

“Like what?”

“Just another one of your shameless tales.” Astarion joked sharply, though immediately backtracked after the drow’s smile dropped. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. I do enjoy that you are so, erm…experienced. Especially last night…” Astarion lowered his voice to a sultry growl, but Breoch would not be so easily cajoled.

“Shameless”, Breoch thought. The word touched upon something deep and visceral; a rupture of flesh underneath a pristine disguise, one that chafed and oozed. An internal imperfection that could never heal. It stung more than the cut had when Matriarch Celofraie sliced into his face. He wanted to snarl like a caged thing. He spat out his acrid pride.

“Experience is a valuable commodity in Menzoberranzan. Men like me rarely live long enough to acquire much experience at all. We don’t get invited to the tables of councils and clergy. Our negotiations take place in ballrooms and bedrooms. Men like me shouldn’t be the seducers, but the seduced. I took pride in being able to choose my partners, to have the freedom to share whoever’s bed would grant me the greatest benefit. I wanted to beat the mistresses at their own game and I took pleasure in it. It was my choice.”

“Oh yes, quite the choice darling. ‘Sleep with me or die’.” He giggled derisively. “I know what choice I would have made.”

Breoch scowled. Of course the darthiir wouldn’t understand the nuances of drow politics. He could never appreciate how skilled Breoch was at not only safeguarding himself against the precariousness of his position, but weaponising it for his own gain. Anything would sound terrible when phrased in such simplistic terms. He couldn’t deny that Astarion was right, but he refused to admit it. Ultimately, that was the choice he made several times a week for 150 years.

It took a few moments for him to find his leotard again so he could get dressed. The tent felt too cramped and not even his headache could stop him from leaving now. This silent treatment must have unnerved Astarion as he fretted with his shirt sleeves

Shrike's anger, however, is explosive and violent. They hold grudges, they will sulk, and they will scream in your face if you push them far enough. Their rage blinds them and they will lash out. Their anger is how Bhaal takes control and what drives them to follow their oath of vengeance.

(While I'm adding my writing, here's a snippet from their introductory 'dialogue' if you choose the use the tadpole on them)

You tune into the tadpole squirming in the paladin's skull, forcing your way past their defenses. Your vision floods with red as your nostrils are assualted by an onslaught of puke, urine, and faeces. Severed limbs clinging by a single tendon swing from the spikes the corpses have been impaled upon. A burning tightness grips your throat as a shattering blow beats the air from your lungs.

You feel a crashing thud to the back of your head as you plummet to the floor.

You return to your body to find Shrike pinning you to the ground by your throat. A murderous aura seems to emanate from them.

"Stay out of my fucking head!" They roar and tighten their grip. "Don't you ever try that again, or next time I may not want to let you go."

They watch you squirm as their lips twitch into a cruel smile, before eventually releasing you. You splutter out a half-formed apology, but they don't stick around to listen.

Zeke doesn't really get angry. He'll get frustrated, but never truly angry. If something were to anger him, he'd be just as likely to cry as he would to scream and shout. His inability to get angry about things is one of the many reasons why he is so easily manipulated. He never really feels the need to stand his ground if he's being treated unfairly.

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: I love writing characters spilling their guts out, couldn't be me 😩✌🏼-Danny Words: 1,962 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'I Love You Too' -by Ezra Bell

XXXVIII: I Go through ✨Character Development✨

"So. You come to claim the scepter."

The boys stand on each side of Ara. Jason raises his voice. "Cupid, where are you?"

The voice laughs, but they can't quite place it. "Where you least expect me. As Love always is." Something tosses Jason away. Nico and Ara stand closer together in alarm. "You've found true love, after all. Or do you still doubt yourself?"

"Go get him," Ara tells Nico urgently.

The boy rushes over to get Jason. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just sucker punched."

"Oh, did you expect me to play fair? I am the god of love. I am never fair." An arrow misses Nico's backside thanks to Jason's quick reflexes, the boys return to her side, and Ara changes Almighty into a bow."You're not a good archer, Arae." Eros taunts her. "Even Michael couldn't make you better that skill, no matter how hard you desired to impress him."

"Shut up!" Ara's face flushes. "Leave him out of this!"

"You don't get to silence me today." An arrow flies past, piercing a column right next to her face. Ara lifts her bow with shaky hands."You've undermined me enough."

"Is this guy Love or Death?" Jason scowls.

"Ask your friends. Frank, Hazel, and Percy met my counterpart, Thanatos. We are not so different. Except Death is sometimes kinder."

"We just want the scepter!" Nico insists. "We're trying to stop Gaea. Are you on the gods' side or not?"

Another arrow tries to hit Nico again, and he barely manages to dodge it."Love is on every side. And no one's side. Don't ask what Love can do for you."

"Great," Jason grumbles. "Now he's spouting greeting card messages."

He manages to injure Eros, there is ichor on the tiles where the god had stood."Very good, Jason," he sounds a bit strained. "At least you can sense my presence. Even a glancing hit at true love is more than most heroes manage."

"So now I get the scepter?" Jason asks impatiently.

"Unfortunately, you could not wield it. Only a child of the Underworld can summon the dead legions. And only an officer of Rome can lead them." 

"But..." Jason hesitates, then quickly pushes it aside. "Just leave that to us. Nico can summon—"

Another arrow passes by striking Nico. It leaves no mark and draws no blood, the arrows aren't meant for that. The boy clutches his arm nonetheless like it's burning him. "Stop! Both of you!" Ara orders to the boys. 

"Enough games!" Nico's eyes are wild, for a moment he looks like the ten-year-old he once was. "Show yourself!"

"No!" Ara pleads frantically. "We don't want to fight you—"

She gets kicked out of the circle. "You loathe me, little sister. All you do is oppose me—You think me a monster."

"Does it matter?" Ara grunts, pulling herself up to a crouching position. "I'm in love, aren't I?"

"You hold it like a curse," the god snarls. "Our mother cursed Psyche for her distrust. My poor lover was tormented, forced into exile, given horrible tasks to prove her worth. She was even sent to the Underworld on a quest to show her dedication. She earned her way back to my side, but she suffered greatly. If you face what you fear, you must conquer it."

Lighting hits near her feet and Ara screams. Jason lifts his sword to the sky, and a second later he gets thrown again, and Ara tries to get up to aid him. An arrow pierces her heart front to back and vanishes as quickly as it hits her.

The same burning heat she felt in the Argo II spreads across her chest, as a dark and poisonous-looking stain douses her shirt and fills her with heartwrenching memories. All the regressions she's had since childhood, Leo's playful eyes, crooked grin... Mike's roaring laughter, how his hair smelled, and how soft his hoodie felt on her. The very same hoodie she's kept at the back of her closet and hasn't thrown out or used since he died.

Ara collapses, tearing chunks of grass around her as she tries to pull air into her lungs. "Stop!" Nico watches the stain on her shirt grow and tries to get to her, but Eros drags him back. "Leave her alone!"

"Poor Nico di Angelo," Eros mocks him. "My beloved Psyche risked everything in the name of Love. It was the only way to atone for her lack of faith—the same lack of faith Arae has. And you... what have you risked in my name?"

"I've been to Tartarus and back," Nico growls. "You don't scare me."

"I scare you very, very much. As much as I scare my sister. Face me. Be honest."

Ara tries to get up, but a second arrow strikes her in the gut and vanishes just like the first one. Eros won't let her recover enough to fight him, her shirt is soaked with this obscure liquid she can't identify. It isn't blood, but it pours out at a quick pace burning her skin like acid, she's not dying but it almost feels that way.

Memories of the moment she fell in love with Leo get pulled from under her like a rug, and then Eros forces her to relive her first kiss, and how beautifully Mike behaved then. She'd pretended it hadn't been a big deal, but things changed between them after that night, she was too scared of what it meant and couldn't bring herself to face the truth.

"Give us Diocletian's scepter," Nico steps forward trying to shield her. "We don't have time for games." 

"Games?" Eros slaps him and Nico falls over from the sheer force of it. "Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard work—a quest that never ends. It demands everything from you—especially the truth. Only then does it yield rewards."

"Nico," Jason pants, tossed around by the wind in his attempts to fight Eros. "What does this guy want from you?"

"Tell him, Nico di Angelo. Tell him you are a coward, afraid of yourself and your feelings. Tell him the real reason you ran from Camp Half-Blood, and why you are always alone."

"Stop it!" Ara gathers enough strength to stand. "I yield!" She can't recognize her voice, it's too full of despair. "Leave Nico out of it... You can have me."

"The children of Olympus have always belonged to me," Eros muses, his voice moving past her as quick as his arrows."But you, dear sister... you're just like me. People call me a monster, so what does that make you?"

Her hands are still clutching onto her past, trying to squeeze it out of existence. The one thing keeping her together was deep-rooted self-denial, and Eros wanted her to give it up. The moment she decided to pull her grief out, she would be nothing but an empty shell.

Ara's stomach twists with disgust as she struggles to speak. "Just don't... don't hurt Nico anymore."

She's the kind of person who wants to die undefeated, but she is willing to lose if it means she can right a wrong. This is what Hercules warned her about, Eros is right, all the children of Olympus have suffered through him, they are always bound to kneel before love and let it break them.

Eros sounds almost proud. "Very well. Though be warned, Di Angelo won't be excused forever."

"Enough," Ara takes a deep breath and speaks firmly. "You're right. I blamed you for my actions even when I was old enough to know better. I told those who asked that it was all you, that I was a victim..."

She collapses again, feeling like her insides are melting. Ara coughs a couple of times before continuing.

"I'm not the victim here. I'm not even cursed." Ara feels the tip of Eros's arrow pressing on her ribcage. "I am Leo Valdez's curse. If he keeps me he'll die... and I want to let it happen. And Michael Yew... Michael Yew was my first love. I refused to admit it, and Mike died thinking he had nothing to gain if he fought for his life. But that wasn't your fault, I decided to keep quiet. I'm the one who hurts everyone."

"Love is kind, but only if you care for it." The god's voice softens. "If you neglect it, it rots."

The staff falls at Nico's feet. Ara's hands cover her face and she sobs at last, overwhelmed by guilt. She cries her heart out, tightly holding onto the roots of her hair to exteriorize the pain that burns her gut.

All this time she's forced the world to acknowledge she can do everything while wounding the love it has for her. None of what she's done matters, because she keeps rejecting the things in life that would give them meaning.

"I'm sorry." Today, those words sting more than ever. "I was falling out of control and... Silena always said feeling too much was dangerous. I got scared."

Dark, beautiful, and so powerful it makes her cry like a baby, Eros materializes in front of her. "You misunderstood," he presses a hand to her chest, and Ara gets a high-level empath touch treatment, pulling out the poisoned love so she can breathe better. "Love conquers all, learn from it—only then you add to the legacy of my children of Olympus. Don't fight your emotions, feed them right."

He vanishes, leaving Ara with a warm and fuzzy sensation in her chest. Just a little uncomfortable, as it always is when true love strikes you for the first time.

"Why did you do that?" Weak steps get closer.

"I had to," Ara replies hoarsely.

"He wanted my confession."

"No, Eros thought you'd cave faster," she gazes down at the stain on her shirt, which is probably ruined for good. "We made a deal, and words don't get through to me, I'm a charmspeaker and a matchmaker."

"What's a matchmaker?" Jason approaches from her right.

"Someone who sees soul lights," she mumbles, still not looking at them. "People lit up like Christmas lights when they're near something they love, or thinking about it."

"Piper told me those are a myth," Jason continues. "But... I guess they're not?"

"It means you know what he wanted me to admit," Nico states in a strange voice.

Ara sits upright. "Eros just wanted heartache, Nico. We're full of it, but it was my turn to lose."

Nico kneels in front of her. "Why?" He asks confused and upset. "You could've told him just to hurt me and—"

"I wish I didn't care that I'm nothing next to my brother and you," she looks up at him bitterly, her lower lip quivering. "Because then I'd love you like before. We were good friends once, but I can't stand to have you near me. I'm just a weaker version of what you could be."

Ara uses her sword to steady herself and gets to her feet. Nico looks at her unmoving, an expression of shock on his face, but she doesn't want his compassion, so she looks away. The girl wants to sleep for a week, at last, she thinks she's done enough.

"Ara," Jason inches closer. "This must've taken a lot from you. Thank you." 

Her torso stings, and every time she takes a breath her chest tightens as if she's recovering from pneumonia. Ara feels a sharp cramp near her heart and she doubles over. Jason catches her and she has no choice but to let him. Nico looks like he wants to help, but she leans closer to the older boy.

"We have to take her back to the ship—"

"I'll do it," Nico offers promptly. "Shadow travel is faster. We don't know if her heart's okay, the arrow went right through it."

Ara glares at him, but to Nico, she looks as threatening as a wounded doe. "I overexerted myself, that's all. Been a while since I cried this way, but I'm not dying."

"We should be careful anyway, you're body went through a lot," Jason disputes. "Alright Nico, take us to the ship."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[swift-creates]

@chrumblr-whumblr day 16: begging

wc: 613 | warnings: torture, knife violence, threats | characters: Strike (OC) (pov), Alex Brisals (OC), unnamed Separatist human female

[all time low voice] tonight's like a knife, would you cut me with your kiss I bleed red lips you're unbelievable-

another oc ship fic because i'm uncontrollable! so is the brainrot more things about Strike on AO3

—

Alex's eyes were wide as his gaze desperately clung to hers. She knew that look. That was the lie to me look, the tell me everything's going to be okay look.

"Stay away from him," she forced out through gritted teeth. "Oh, darling. It's sweet to see you think you have any say in the matter whatsoever." The woman selected out a knife from the tray in front of her, flipping it between her fingers as she strolled up and down the tiny room. "Don't darling me. Touch him, and I'll shove that knife down your throat." Strike's threat was made somewhat less effectual by the audible tremor in her voice. The woman laughed, and patted her on the cheek. "Just watch."

She left Strike, and walked towards him. Alex watched her the same way a frightened animal would someone approaching them, leaning away when she tried to grab him by the chin. "Hmm, where should we start? Do you think she'd like it if we gave you some lovely scars on your face?" Alex's breathing hitched, and he looked frantically past her to Strike.

"Maybe around your pretty mouth. So she remembers this every time she kisses you." She traced the knife lightly over his skin, and she saw his hands start to tremble.

"Don't." Her fingers dug into the leather straps that restrained her, kept her strapped to this stupid chair. They were right there; she should be able to stop this, to protect him, to do something, not stay seated as a creepy woman with knives threatened him. "Here's the thing, sweetheart. This all comes down to you. Just tell me everything I need to know about your little operation, and your boy here goes free and unharmed." She smiled, as if they were at a cafe instead of in a torture room. "Don't call her sweetheart." Oh, Alex. Poor, brave Alex. He was so far out of his depth, and still tried to stand up for her. Strike might be trained to withstand the worst Separatist torment, but he wasn't. He shouldn't even be here, her mind wailed. What have you done?

"You'll look wonderful when I'm done with you." The woman smiled wickedly, digging the tip of the knife in deep enough to draw blood, and Alex let out a strangled yelp. "Stop!" Strike desperately pulled against her bonds, tilting the chair dangerously forward. "Please." The woman turned to her, pretending she hadn't heard the first time. "What was that, lovely?" "Stop." She rolled her eyes and went back to her task, etching a curved line around the edge of his lips. "No manners. Really, should know better than to distract me. Or I might slip up." The knife jarred sharply downward, and Alex cried out.

Strike squeezed her eyes shut at the sound. "Please! Stop." Alex stopped screaming, and she opened her eyes to the woman looking back at her, knife hovering just above his skin. "One more time, soldier." "Please don't do this." Her voice dropped to a whisper. She kept her eyes trained on Alex's, holding him with her gaze if nothing else, and watched the woman pull away from her peripheral vision.

She walked over to Strike. Bent to look her straight in the eye. "Tell me everything I want to know about the Republic operations on this planet, or I will see to it that you and the boy become well acquainted with the very worst I have to offer." "I will. I swear. Just don't hurt him."

The woman smiled, and Strike thought of Rex and Anakin and Ahsoka and Jesse and Kix. I'm sorry.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

[aesopsbaby]

do you think you'd ever ship one of your characters with Master Quill? Idk I'm just thirsty for more of your content and your interactions with your Tumblr husband are impeccable (lo)

Feed me

Myself. EHUM EHUM,, COUGH,,!!

Also, seeing you guys call Lo my tumblr husband always makes me so happy for some reason-- is that weird,,, well anyways!!

I actually do have,,,a few candidates!

Butler OC (Unnamed at the moment) but I'm leaning with Carlton for his name so,,,let's call him that for the time being! (I...might change it..)

Why:

LOOK. HES A BUTLER BUT HE HAS NO MORALS. He would do whatever he is tasked to do. Take someone out? Sure, on a date or- oh nevermind, he already shot the person.

So imagine Master, who enjoys having full control over someone, meeting this man who is willing to submit to him no matter the orders. Carlton would carry out whatever Master wishes.

After all, a butler must serve his master, right?

Akari (I haven't drawn her in awhile but I'm pretty sure there are some posts floating around on my blog!!)

Why:

Not much is to be said about her, except for the fact that she'd take joy in being around Master. Having to live with two sisters that are always protective around her, is boring her.

She needs someone that is the embodiment of pure chaos and destruction. She enjoys watching Master torment others and would be more than happy to be his subject of torment!! She doesn't feel fear (except for her sisters being hurt), but she doesn't care if anything happens to her.

It would be so interesting to see Master takes full advantage of that and try to push Akari till he finds out how to make her feel true fear. How to make her crumble and afraid of him.

Nathan

Why:

He's stubborn. Real stubborn. He strongly believes that Elios was a good soul, that Meztli killed him and now he HAS to take revenge for Elios! His heart is set on Elios no matter what.

I'm just so interested to see Nathan being conflicted when Master joins the story. I just imagine Master taking advantage of how vulnerable Nathan is right now and just treating him with kindness, exactly how Elios was. And it's messing with Nathan's mind,,,now he has to decide whether he still loves Elios or has another man captured his cold, confused heart?

Head in hands,,,there's so many more ocs that I have thought of but I have to choose those that are mentally unstable,,,(for plot purpose ofc!!)

Master Quill belongs to @feelin-lo !! :D

[inventressyasmine]

Relationships:

Characters I'd most like to RP with in order and how I perceive their relationships with my Yzma/Yasmine:

💜Kuzco: Kuzco is basically her annoying son whom she has a strained relationship with but does simultaneously enjoy his company. As Yasmine, she especially enjoys when Kuzco let's her hang out with him and his classmates together, as it makes her feel like a real teenage girl. As Yzma, she's kind of distant from him because they have an awkward history and she also feels too exposed. She somehow thinks that Kuzco still doesn't know that Yasmine is really her (of course he does). 

💜Malina: Malina and Yzma have a weird tension going on and it's mostly due to Yzma being jealous. Yzma is not only jealous of Malina's looks and potential access to the throne (then she'd have to destroy 2 brats instead one) but secretly she's also jealous of her bond with Kuzco. Deep down she wishes she could have a deeper bond with him just as Malina does. 

💜Miss Ni: I know she's just a side character but I ship them. T^T Yzma totally both admired and was intimidated by her and still would and would be if she were to meet her again. Just imagine all the evil emperor toppling dates they could go on. The villainous sapphic aunty vibes are strong to me! 

💜Kronk: Oh Kronk. She misses him dearly although she won't admit it even to herself. She still keeps his star chart on her wall above the couch she sleeps on in case he ever comes back to her. She doesn't accomplish much without him around, not because he necessarily helps her plans go smoother, but because she doesn't have his encouragement and energy to motivate her. And he took Chester! Sigh. 

💜 Margo Whadupper: Another side character.. Margo is Yzma's highschool bully and bitter rival to this day. Her hate for her is way stronger than her hate for Kuzco being emperor. One day she will get her revenge for the years of torment she put her through. One day she will humiliate her in front of all the former students of Unnamed Academy and show them how pathetic she truly is. How much more talented, beautiful and brilliant the great alchemist Yzma is!

💜Mr M: In my opinion this is a one sided relationship. Mr M has a thing for Yzma but Yzma doesn't really think of him much and if anything thinks he's weird. But it would still be fun to banter with him and learn about his quirky personality. Mr M kept a good relationship with the emperor post graduation, so she sometimes tries to get info out of him on the topic of Kuzco. Mr M likes to reminisce about their teacher & principal days together although she honestly doesn't remember them interacting all that much. 

💜Dr Facilier: they're both purple magic wielding outcasts who turned spoiled princes into animals. I ship them a bit as a crack ship. I could see them having deep conversations too. 

💜Mother Gothel: both are magic wielding old ladies who aren't on good terms with their raised children. The conversations would be fun and Yzma would be curious about the Sundrop flower lore. (I haven't watched all of the tangled series although I definitely should!)

💜Any other character. Especially other new groove franchise characters. But I'm open to RPing with anyone as long as NSFW topics are ignored. I would enjoy other disney characters although I haven't seen all the classics. Even OC's are fine. Yasmine is just a lonely girl! She needs all the friends she can get.😅

[matchamilkislover]

In The Darkest Corners, 12.

pairing: vi x fem!oc (reader with a name)

warnings: THIS CHAPTER WILL CONTAIN EXPLICIT SCENES OF VIOLENCE AND OTHER POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING TOPICS. mature themes, just an overall minors beware, violence, general arcane-ness. heavy angst.

word count: 2,993

synopsis: everything’s gone to shit. i’m terrible at writing synopses.

author’s note: as i said in the warnings, this is NOT a lighthearted chapter. proceed at your own risk.

don’t forget to read the other parts first!!

tags:

@forestnymph666

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ

Olive's head pounded as she slowly regained consciousness. The first thing she noticed was the cold, damp air that clung to her skin, followed by the hard surface beneath her. Her eyes struggled to focus, adjusting to the dim light of the cell. The chains on the floor rattled slightly as she shifted, the metallic sound echoing through the empty space. With a groan, Olive tried to sit up, only to be met with searing pain and stiffness. Her body ached as if she had been put through the ringer. Panic set in as the memories of the bar and Sevika's ominous presence rushed back. She scanned her surroundings, realizing she was locked in a small, dark cell. The chains on the floor hinted at the cell's sinister purpose, but they remained untouched, leaving Olive to wonder why she hadn't been restrained. Her clothes clung uncomfortably to her damp skin, and she shivered involuntarily. Then the realization hit her – she was alone, likely in Silco’s clutches, with no one looking for her.

Minutes, maybe hours, passed before the sound of heavy footsteps approached. The door creaked open, revealing Sevika's figure outlined by the faint light from the hallway. A sinister smile played on Sevika's lips as she strolled in, the echoes of her boots reverberating in the confined space. She pulled a slow drag from her smoke as she regarded Olive, her casual yet piercing gaze unrelenting.

"Well, well, look who's finally awake," Sevika taunted, her tone dripping with malice. She circled Olive like a predator closing in on its prey. "You put up quite a fight back there at the Last Drop. I must admit, I'm impressed."

Olive's throat felt dry, and her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "What... What do you want?"

Sevika laughed, a chilling sound that seemed to amplify the coldness of the cell. "Oh, sweetheart, it's not about what I want. It's about what Silco and Teeter want. And they want to have a little chat with you."

Sevika's words sent shivers down Olive's spine. Silco – the puppeteer orchestrating the chaos in the undercity. She had heard enough about him to know that crossing paths with him was a dire situation. Not to mention that somehow Teeter, his next in command, was somehow involved in this too. She had heard horror stories of his cruelty, his relentlessness. All she could do was hope that they were exaggerated tales, meant to scare more than anything.

Sevika took another drag, drawing out her exhale as she kept her eyes on Olive. Her voice continued over Olive’s racing thoughts. “But that’s not to say I can’t have a little fun while I’m at it. It’s rare I get a playtoy as pretty as you.” Sevika leaned in, her breath brushing against Olive's ear. "Let's have some fun first, shall we?" With a sinister grin, she traced a finger along Olive's cheek, leaving a trail of cold dread in its wake.

Sevika's torment was a cruel dance, choreographed to break Olive both physically and mentally. She reveled in the power she held over the smaller, savoring the fear that radiated from her like a bitter perfume. First, she circled Olive, her steps deliberate and echoing in the confined space. She toyed with the chains on the floor as she passed them, creating an unsettling melody that set the stage for the impending torment. The clinking of metal merged with the hushed sounds of Olive's shallow breaths. Then, with a sudden, forceful motion, Sevika grabbed Olive's chin, forcing her to meet her sinister gaze. The intensity in Sevika's eyes sent shivers down Olive's spine. Sevika's touch was a cold reminder of the power dynamics at play. She leaned in, her breath a venomous graze across Olive’s skin.

"I almost forgot your warm welcome to Silco's domain, sweetheart," Sevika purred, her voice dripping with malicious delight. "You should feel honored. Not everyone gets a personal invitation." Sevika's fingers trailed along Olive's jawline, forcing her to meet her eyes. "I've heard of your little escapades with Vi. Cute love story, isn't it? Too bad it led you straight into my hands."

Olive's jaw clenched, a silent promise of defiance. "Whatever you're imagining won't break me. Vi and I—we're partners, nothing more."

Sevika chuckled, her fingers tracing a maddening pattern on Olive's arm. "Partners, hm? I've seen the way she looks at you, talks to you, and it's not just friendly banter. There's a story there, and I'm itching to hear it. You forget that we have eyes everywhere."

Olive, despite the torment that ripped at her already aching heartstrings, remained resilient. Sevika's attempts to exploit the romantic tension between her and Vi were met with stubborn resistance. “There’s nothing there, believe me,” she retorted through gritted teeth.

Sevika ignored her denial, continuing her taunting. "You think Vi cares about you? She left you alone in this hellhole. Quite the fairy tale romance you've got going," Sevika sneered, her words cutting through the air.

“What? Are you trying to break me down? Leave me screaming for help, begging for her to come save me?” Olive spat back, holding back the tears that burned at the back of her eyes. “It won’t work. She won’t come, and you won’t get whatever you want from her. Or me.” Olive’s eyes burned into Sevika’s with a passion she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Sevika's laughter echoed in the cold cell. "Oh, sweetheart, you're so naive. This isn't a rescue mission, even if we wanted it to be. It's a wake-up call for Piltover and a nightmare for you." With a grimace, Sevika’s hand suddenly moved from Olive’s chin to a vice grip on her neck. “Now why don’t we actually get started, shall we?”

With a sudden shove, Olive was sprawling on the floor, her back hitting the ground with a thud. She reeled for a second before scrambling back, trying to get away from Sevika’s hulking form that was steadily approaching her. Sevika let out a low chuckle as she watched Olive, tracking her every move.

“Aww, scared, are we? Don’t worry, pet,” Sevika leaned down to Olive’s eye level, her voice lowering to a whisper. “I won’t hurt you. Nothing lasting, anyways.” With that, her hand curled around Olive’s hair and yanked, hard. “Now stand up,” she growled, voice suddenly rising in volume. Olive was forced to follow her hand, standing with Sevika while her scalped screamed in pain. The only sound that left Olive’s mouth was a muffled whimper through gritted teeth. All Sevika did in response was laugh sadistically.

The specifics of what Sevika did to her became a blur in Olive’s memory. Her skin burned from shallow cuts and slices, sharp pains and blunt aches from kicks and hits. She could feel parts of her crack and bruises start to form, but barely even fought back. The last few weeks had been torture enough for her - she didn’t have the energy or will to keep fighting now. The only times she remembered to protest were the moments when Sevika would slow, filthily scanning her body as she stood above her or softening her touch as she gripped Olive’s arm, or neck. These were the moments when Olive would kick her back or spit in her face, shoving herself away until her back would slam into one of the cold stone walls. Sevika would scoff or laugh and roll her eyes, continuing like nothing happened. Eventually, Olive’s consciousness started to flicker in and out as her body ached more and more. Seemingly satisfied by this, Sevika uttered only a triumphant grunt before leaving the cell and slamming the door behind her, locking it as she went. Olive accepted unconsciousness readily, desperate for an escape from the nightmare that her life had become.

–

The Undercity embraced Caitlyn with its oppressive atmosphere, a stark contrast to the polished halls of Piltover. She navigated the twisted alleys with cautious steps, her eyes scanning the dark corners for any sign of her missing friends. The Undercity, always unpredictable, seemed to stretch endlessly before her. With every passing moment, her worry deepened. Caitlyn's quest led her through the tangled web of clandestine paths and dimly lit hideouts. She inquired about Vi, about Olive, but received only furtive glances and cryptic warnings in return. The Undercity had its own language—one Caitlyn was only beginning to decipher. Eventually, she stumbled upon a murky establishment where whispers of a recent scuffle at The Last Drop reached her ears. A chill ran down Caitlyn's spine. Something wasn't right. The air in the Undercity crackled with tension, and Caitlyn's instincts told her that she was treading on dangerous ground.

Caitlyn's boots echoed in the dimly lit corridor as she approached the entrance of The Last Drop, the air thick with the pungent scent of alcohol and the hushed murmurs of patrons. The familiar creak of the tavern door announced her arrival, drawing the attention of the few souls brave enough to seek solace in the shadows. Caitlyn approached the bar, her eyes scanning the crowded room until they settled on the grizzled bartender, Grint. The atmosphere seemed to hush for a moment as patrons stole curious glances at the unfamiliar face in the tavern.

"Good evening," Caitlyn greeted, her voice cutting through the ambient noise at a volume only Grint could fully hear. "I'm Caitlyn. I'm a friend of Olive’s. I’m looking for information about a scuffle that happened here involving her. Can you tell me what you know?"

Grint eyed her for a moment, studying her with a cautious scrutiny. The lines etched into his face deepened as he sighed, deciding how much he should reveal. "Caitlyn, huh? Well, you've picked a hell of a night to walk into The Last Drop." He took a deep sigh before lowering his voice and continuing. “Olive's gone. Haven't seen her since that night. Silco's got her locked up. Word is, they're keeping her somewhere deep in the bowels of the Undercity.” He eyed Caitlyn nervously as he watched her reaction to the information.

As Grint recounted the events, Caitlyn's expression tightened. Her heart dropped when she learned that not only was Olive missing, but she had been taken by Silco’s top henchman; the situation was more dire than she had imagined. She took a moment to compose herself before asking the crucial question. "And where is Vi now?" Caitlyn inquired, her gaze unwavering.

Grunt hesitated, gauging Caitlyn’s determination. "You don't know what you're getting into, Caitlyn. Silco's reach goes far, and breaking into one of the prisons—"

"I don't care. I need to find Vi, and I need to find Olive. Tell me where they're keeping her," Caitlyn demanded, her resolve burning brighter than ever.

Grint sighed again, resigned. "Stillwater. It's heavily guarded, Caitlyn, especially now. Going there alone is suicide."

Caitlyn's gaze met Grint's, her steely determination unwavering. "I can't afford to wait for approval or a team. The corruption runs too deep for me to get one now anyways. I'm going in, and I'm bringing them back. No matter the cost."

The bartender sighed, realizing that Caitlyn's determination was unyielding. "I can tell you what I told Olive. Avoid the light, find a back door, don’t get caught."

Caitlyn nodded, a steely glint in her eyes. "Thank you, Grint. I'll find them."

As Caitlyn left The Last Drop, the weight of the Undercity pressed upon her, but she marched forward, fueled by a determination to unravel the mystery, rescue her friends, and confront the shadows that threatened to engulf them. She needed to come up with a plan.

–

Olive's hazy consciousness swirled in the dimly lit cell, her body still aching from Sevika's previous session with her. The ominous echo of footsteps reverberated, signaling the arrival of unwelcome guests. Olive’s heartbeat immediately quickened, terrified of whoever approached despite the unbreakable face she put on. The door creaked open, revealing the menacing figures of Silco and someone else, who stayed in the shadows. Although she couldn’t see his face, she was sure it must be who Sevika mentioned, Teeter. Olive tried to push herself up, her weakened body protesting every move.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Silco's voice slithered into the cold air. His eyes bore into Olive, calculating and cold.

The leering figure beside Silco slinked out of the shadows, as if on cue. When Olive was finally able to make out the details of his face, she had to bite back her terror. She instantly startle to scramble back into a corner of her cell, panting and trembling.

The notorious Teeter, Silco’s right hand man whose name terrorized the residents of the Undercity almost as if he were Silco himself, was none other than Olive’s father. Her father wore a twisted grin that sent shivers down Olive's spine. The truth unfolded in the dark shadows of the cell as he spoke, his voice a venomous revelation.

"Hello, daughter," he sneered, the words dripping with malice.

Olive's eyes widened, aghast at the revelation. "Father? What are you doing here?"

Teeter chuckled darkly. "Oh, my dear Olive tree, you really didn’t know yet, did you?” He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, if you can’t figure it out by yourself - and it seems like you truly can’t - yes, it was me behind everything you and your mother went through a year ago. It was me the whole time. And, to my pleasure, it was me who killed your useless mother.” He finished his final phrase with a bone-chilling grin, like it pleased him to finally say it to her face; it probably did. “I relished in killing her, and I’ll relish in killing you too. When the time comes, at least.”

For Olive, the words hung in the air like a toxic fog. Her mind raced, trying to reconcile the man before her with the one who had orchestrated the raid on her home, the one who had taken everything from her. Her shock was clear in the look on her face, on how she crumpled to the ground, hand covering her mouth and the dry sob that erupted from it. The truth unfolded like a grotesque tableau, revealing her own father as the architect of her deepest sorrows. He had always been a terrible man, yes – but nothing like this. Silco observed her reaction calmly, his eyes gleaming with a perverse satisfaction. He might’ve said something, but Olive didn’t hear it. Her hearing went dull, like a pitchy whine covered all of the other sounds around her. Her eyes glazed over with tears, and she barely registered it when her father pulled her face up with a veined hand and shoved her to the ground, laughing cruelly as he and Silco left her.

A while later – Olive has no idea as to how much later – Sevika returned to prepare a twisted memento for Vi. Olive registered her entrance, but her shock left her feeling almost numb, a quiet whimper being her only reaction to Sevika’s appearance. Sevika chuckled coldly under her breath, but said nothing. The cold steel of her blade glinted as she cut off a lock of Olive's hair, and the strands fell weightlessly into Sevika’s waiting hand, a feathered cascade of betrayal. Olive tried to look away, assuming whatever fucked-up task Sevika had needed the hair for had been fulfilled, but the larger caught her chin in her massive, calloused hand. With a perverse satisfaction, Sevika sliced a shallow line across Olive’s cheek, adding a few drops of Olive's blood to a piece of parchment. Olive hissed, glowering at Sevika with an unparalleled measure of hatred. The sting of the cut reawakened Olive’s senses, and she lashed a hand out at Sevika’s own cheek before the latter could stop her, her nails scraping across the rough skin. Sevika lurched back and growled, holding a hand to her face.

“You’ll pay for that, pipsqueak,” Sevika spat as she set down the parchment and advanced again towards Olive. Olive flinched, expecting a blow, but Sevika instead grasped the chains lying next to her. Before Olive could react, Sevika had roughly shoved Olive to face away from her and chained her hands tightly behind her back. While Olive pulled desperately, she was no match for Sevika’s strength, and the chains clunked to the floor with a thud, carrying an unexpecting Olive with them. Saying nothing, Sevika stood with her parchment and began to walk towards the door. Olive lurched forward, but was cut short by the chains, which tugged viciously at her already aching arms and made her cry out in pain. Sevika laughed.

“Don’t worry, little bird. I’ll be back for more later,” Sevika said as she casually strode out of Olive’s cell and locked the door. “Oh, and by the way – I’ll personally make sure this gets to Vi,” she hissed with a smirk, sauntering away as she ignored Olive’s cries. The shock and horror overwhelmed Olive as she listened to Sevika’s heavy boots retreat down the corridor, lapsing her better judgment as she sobbed and begged the empty air around her with a repeating “No”, her voice gradually weakening from soreness and the acceptance of her horrible fate.

–

In a cramped cell, Vi wrestled with her thoughts, a gnawing sense of helplessness clawing at her. Every desperate attempt to escape or somehow reach Olive met a resounding silence. The realization that she was trapped, unable to do anything, fueled a burning anger within her. The walls of the prison seemed to close in as Vi grappled with the weight of her powerlessness, each passing moment amplifying the urgency to break free and confront the looming shadows threatening to extinguish the light in her world. Unfamiliar footsteps quietly echoed down the corridor, interrupting her thoughts, but Vi didn’t care; not until the footsteps stopped at the bars of her cell and a vaguely familiar voice whispered to her.