#anyway the point is i was working on this when he performed blue side -> safety zone at lolla

[hopeinthebox]

burnt in blue

a blue side x safety zone playlist

features: blue side - j-hope // teardrop - hayley williams // suga's interlude - halsey ft. suga // white flag - clairo // forever rain - rm // delicious things - wolf alice // wildfire - eric nam // rolling stone - brent faiyaz // slide away - miley cyrus // breezeblocks - alt-j // see you again - tyler the creator ft. kali uchis // safety zone - j-hope // + more

listen on spotify

[unboundprompts]

writing a fic where blorbo is poisoned and blorbo in love with her has to take care of her, ideas for how i could get this across?

I would recommend doing some research on the poison involved so that it's as realistic as possible. In a fantasy/sci-fi setting you can probably make up your own poison and choose the symptoms and treatment you deem the best for the situation. Here are some ideas to help you with that:

General Symptoms of Poison

-> from this source.

Stomach Pain

Feeling Nauseous/Being Sick

Drowsiness

Dizziness

Weakness

High Temperature

Chills (shivering)

Loss of Appetite

Headache

Irritability

Difficulty Swallowing

Breathing Difficulties

Skin Rash

Blue Lips and Skin

Double Vision/Blurred Vision

Sudden, Noticeable Heartbeats (Palpitations)

Mental Confusion

Seizures

Loss of Consciousness

Treatment

-> seeking medical help is also a good idea. The best idea probably.

-> from this source.

If they are poisoned by swallowing something, try to get them to spit out anything that is remaining in their mouth.

If they are unconscious and swallowed something, try to wake them to encourage them to spit out anything left in their mouth. Do not put your hand into their mouth and do not try to make them sick.

If the poison is on their skin or clothes, remove their clothes and wash the affected area with warm or cool water. Be careful not to contaminate yourself.

Lay the person on their side with a cushion behind their back and their upper leg pulled slightly forward so that they do not fall on their face or roll backwards. (Recovery Position)

If vomiting, keep their head pointed down to prevent them from breathing it in or swallowing it. Do not give them anything to eat or drink.

If they have stopped breathing or their heart has stopped, perform CPR.

It is important to know what substances you think the person may have swallowed, when it was taken, why it was taken, how it was taken, and how much was taken.

Any existing medical conditions prior to being poisoned are important to be aware of, as it may impact their recovery/ the poison may have effects on their condition.

Activated Charcoal - sometimes used to treat someone who's been poisoned. It binds to the poison and stops it being further absorbed into the blood.

Antidotes - these are substances that either prevent the poison from working or reverse its effects.

Sedatives - may be given if the person is agitated.

Ventilator (breathing machine) - may be used if the person stops breathing.

Anti-epileptic medicine - may be used if the person has seizures.

Writing Prompts For a Character Being Poisoned

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

"Hey, hey, hey," she was lightly tapping his face, his head lulled to the side. "Open your eyes," she said to him gently, her heart sinking with each passing second. "Wake up, I need you here with me."

She had trouble keeping her eyes open. The room was spinning. She felt so weak. All she could hear was their voice, as if they were far away, telling her not to fall asleep.

They had this awful marking on their skin. It crawled across their shoulders and peeked out from underneath their shirt at the sleeves and neck. She thought it looked like it was getting worse every day, slowly blossoming across their skin. "It's not as bad as it looks," they said, trying to make her feel better. The raspiness of their voice and pale complexion did not fill her with hope.

"Your heart is pounding," she said, pressing a hand to his chest. His skin was feverish, warmth radiating off of him. Yet, he shivered as if he were freezing. "Only because I get nervous around you," he responds, a flirty tilt to his voice. They both knew that wasn't the only reason, but she smiled anyway.

"Will you eat something? For me?" They shook their head miserably. "I can't."

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider donating! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi!

[mikanotes]

goodbyes are sour

connor x gn!reader — 2.1k words

genre: angst sorta! mutual pining in denial

warnings: mentions of guns and killing, kabedon for the sake of science, connor unreliable narrator LOL u have feelings android man… maybe ooc idk. (wrote this w the idea of connor being deviant since the beginning bcs Yeah!)

synopsis: You meet Connor again. Turns out things are much more complicated when you aren’t working together.

author’s note: hi dbh fic?! i Love connor nd i’ve been writing this for a while (crazy since it’s rly short) but i don’t like it much… anyways whoevers alive in the dbh fandom have this!

“Detective.”

There’s just something about the way Connor speaks. The cadence, the pitch, the enunciation of each word. It’s painfully evident that he isn’t human. Everything about him is so machine-like that even his perfect, human-like exterior could not fool anyone. However it is something you got used to. Hearing the android speak your name and call you ‘Detective’ back a while ago felt somewhat unsettling. Now it’s so easy to recognize that it almost makes you feel at ease.

“Do you seriously think I’m an android? I don’t wanna deal with those fucking machines, either. I’d be glad if you put a bullet through them rather than me.”

Turns out hearing him fake being a human is ten times more terrifying than his android speech patterns could ever hope to be.

This was not part of the plan.

You were sent with a unit to patrol around the streets for any android who still hadn’t been brought back or destroyed. You weren’t a fan of this whole assignment, but felt better than the rookies who were sent out to shoot humanoid robots as their first field mission probably did.

It would be fine, is what you told yourself, because you didn’t feel anything towards Cyberlife’s creations enough to be completely uncomfortable with the idea of their blue blood on your hands, though it wasn’t ideal. You could manage. Until the first person you came across happened to be the one android you genuinely cared about.

“I don’t think he’s one of them…” one of your fellow officers murmurs next to you. You suddenly become very aware of the gun he, too, is holding and pointing towards the target. Fuck. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough.

At least this idiot’s performance seems to be fooling them.

You wait one second, then sigh on the second, and finally lower your gun on the third. “You shouldn’t be here.” you say casually, prompting your colleagues to relax and the atmosphere to lighten a little. Your heart is in your throat, however. “We’ve got orders to round up every android we see around here. You should go home. This isn’t exactly safe.”

“I know, I know.” he sighs, rolling his eyes a little, “I was gonna leave anyways, thanks.”

Your coworkers mumble to themselves about how disagreeable this guy’s attitude is and it’s enough for them to miss the wink the latter sends your way as he leaves. You almost regret not shooting a bullet through his head.

Still, you sigh in relief, setting your gun back at your side and running a hand over your face. You don’t think you can continue patrolling in peace. There’s one too many questions in your mind and the key to answering them is escaping from your grasp.

You take the phone in your pocket and pretend to get a call, moving it to your ear and looking at the members of your team. “I’ll join up with you later.” you say, gesturing towards your phone. They nod and walk away, and you do the same, feeling more relieved than ever that these people see you as a leader of sorts. They won’t question you on anything. You hurry towards the direction your so-called partner left to the moment they’re out of sight.

A rooftop door, stairs, and more stairs. You’re jogging down like you’re chasing a criminal on the run. You’re down to the fifth floor out of eight when someone grabs your arm and pulls you out a door.

“Wha—” you try to yell, but a cold hand settle over your mouth. Your body relaxes but your expression tenses. Connor. “Let me go,” you mumble incoherently, surprisingly succeeding in getting him to let you step away.

You sigh and shake your head, turning around abruptly. His ‘human costume’ (which really just was a grey suit jacket thrown over what should’ve been his Cyberlife uniform, glasses, and a cap to hide his LED) is already gone, replaced by his usual attire, just missing his jacket.

“What the hell was that about?” you ask, annoyed, pointing towards the staircase (back there, on the roof) and the android simply shrugs. “Connor.”

“I was undercover, Detective. I thought someone as smart as you would recognize that much.” he says, his tone back to normal. You’d feel relieved if he wasn’t being so irritating. “Was I wrong?”

Your face drops. “No. I figured as much. But what for?” you sigh, crossing your arms.

“Same mission as always.”

“Who are you chasing? Did you find the place?”

“I have no reason to tell you.”

It only clicks then that while you know about Connor continuing his mission after being laid off the case, you’re not part of it anymore. He had to be sent back to Cyberlife, and you should’ve been forgetting about him entirely. You’re still DPD, and you have orders to shoot Androids on sight— Which you clearly aren’t following. He’s right. He has no reason to tell you.

Still.

You grab his arm when he threatens to walk away. You’re not sure what you want to say, but you’re not done talking. He lets you. “Connor.”

“Detective.” he says. You straighten your back and sigh, not breaking eye contact. He tilts his head to the side and his LED flashes yellow for an instant. “You’re angry.”

Of course you’re angry. He’s infuriating. There’s something about how logical and dead-set on following every single rule he is that makes Connor the most annoying individual you’ve ever talked to. Everything he does has to be for his mission. Every single thing.

“Do threats work with you?” you ask blankly, “If you don’t tell me where it is, I’ll get Cyberlife to bring you back, and all that?”

When he takes a step closer to you again, forcing your back to press against the wall, and his LED does not even threaten to change hues, you’re taken aback. Just a bit. It’s the same kind of frustrated attitude you would’ve expected from a human after saying what you just did. But not Connor.

He doesn’t seem frustrated, though. And you know he can look annoyed. He just doesn’t. So he must not be. And you want to find what it is he’s doing exactly, stepping closer to you without even saying a word, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting at the distance between you two. You know he does everything for his work. Does he think you have new information on deviants? Does he really believe you would call Cyberlife on him? Is he using his stupid interrogation module on you? Whatever it is makes you even more annoyed.

The silence feels heavy. It makes things worse. It gives your brain time to process how this is making you feel and it’s no good at all. “What?” you break the silence, tone somewhat irritated.

“I’m trying to understand the reason why you’re so angry at me.” he explains simply, like it makes sense. His eyes narrow a bit and the LED at the side of his head flickers yellow for a moment. “And no, Detective. Threats don’t work on me. Not when I can tell you’re lying so easily.” he adds, quieter.

“Shut up.” you scoff.

“I dont think I will.”

“Connor.”

“— However,” he interrupts, “I can step away from you at any moment if you tell me to.”

“No.”

“No?”

What— No?! You register the word after saying it and sigh, face contorting into a somewhat pained expression. You panicked and said it, your mind processing his offer as him leaving you again— With no information and nothing to ease your stupid worries. Now it just sounds odd.

Is that embarrassment?

“You didn’t finish what you were trying to do, did you? You haven’t told me why I’m angry yet. Since you apparently care so much.” you say, tone sounding much softer than before. Your apparent discomposure took away all the bitterness from your voice. Interesting.

Truth be told, Connor knows why you’re angry. He’s not letting you in on the details of what he’s doing despite the time you spent working as partners a very short while ago. He’s spent enough time with people, and you especially, to know that after forming some kind of bond with a work partner, it would be frustrating not to receive information about their mission the way you used to from them—

Especially considering he was still chasing after something you both knew about. Jericho. But he cannot tell you about that. Not… Right now.

What he really was trying to do was evaluate how much of a threat you really could be to his investigation. He didn’t sense any hostility before and he doesn’t now, and you could’ve shot him but you didn’t. But it’s not enough. He needs more time— More evidence that it’s fine. That’s why he pulled you here in the first place. That’s why he pressured you to talk.

He needs to make sure killing you isn’t necessary.

“Because I posed a threat to the stability of your current mission earlier. You wouldn’t have been able to shoot me had I been discovered, and your reaction to your colleagues shooting me would’ve jeopardized your job itself.” he answers.

This reasoning would make sense.

“That’s not it.” you sigh.

Your heartbeat is slowing down. No good. Connor leans his arm on the wall next to you and moves closer. Your heartbeat picks up in speed. It’s almost alarming. He can tell all the details about your physical condition and deduce what you’re thinking or feeling based off of them, sure. But he’s no human. The way he views and comprehends emotions is registered in his system in a much more clear and logic-based way than it is in humans’ brains.

So maybe he won’t ever know why your heart beats so heavily against your ribcage. So he just has to pressure the right places and demand answers. He unfortunately can’t allow you to relax. He won’t get anything out of you if you’re calm. You’re much too turbulent for that.

Or maybe he’ll just have to ask. In a normal way.

“Detective, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” you scoff, eyes widening. Wrong question.

You seem like you want to be angry but something is holding you back from displaying just how much he gets on your nerves. You sigh deeply and look at him, “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting so weird. More than usual. Why’d you pull me here if you didn’t want to tell me anything? And I’m worried. What if you really did get shot? Wasn’t Cyberlife supposed to deactivate you? They wouldn’t have brought in another Connor this time. You’re off the case, you— You would’ve died!”

“Maybe.”

There’s circles under your eyes. There always are, but they’re more defined now than they were the last time he saw you. Now that you’re actually being honest, your whole voice and mannerisms betray any of your usual annoyed and dismissive facade. He didn’t think you cared this much, though he understands that some humans are quick to empathize. To a fault.

Now it’s clear he doesn’t need to eliminate you at all. Part of him seems to have grown fond of your company. He couldn’t risk that getting in the way of his better judgment.

“I only pulled you here so you wouldn’t pointlessly chase down the streets searching for me, since I made sure no one would follow.” he says, stepping back and giving you more space, “You’re a police officer. It doesn’t matter what you say you’ll keep to yourself or not. I can’t compromise. This is too important.”

You’re hurt, it’s visible. He’s saying he can’t risk trusting you. He figures that must not feel nice.

The sound of the radio attached to your side breaks this prolonged silence with the promise of separation. You take it, eyes not leaving Connor’s, and listen to your colleague speak. You tell them you’ll be right there. You’re not one to be late. He knows you’ll really leave this time— Too far away for him to hope to talk to you again, if anything goes awry.

You turn the radio off and put it back where it was. “Hope you succeed, then.” you say, bitter, and push yourself up to start walking away.

“Take care of yourself, Detective.” Connor says. Asks. The words come out before he can really think. Something about your voice and this whole atmosphere made him… Feel uneasy. Like he needed to say something. If this is how your partnership ends, he doesn’t believe it should be on such a sour note. He cares doesn’t dislike you at all, so why should it?

You stagger a little, seemingly stopping in your tracks, but moving again no more than a second later. “You too, Connor.”

Somehow, goodbyes had never seemed so sad.

[elizakai]

revealing my true analyst self 😪💫

When it comes to media I enjoy I get so much brain-rot, and zuchiyeni’s idol! Au has been plaguing me, so I thought I’d share for anyone mildly interested. And I’m definitely totally not procrastinating.

these are just headcanons (?) and ideas mwaha.

I WANT TO TALK ABOUT IDOL DREAM✨ because it’s dream.

(⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️)

VOICE WISE , I think it’s pretty universal in fandom to imagine dream’s voice as more ✨feminine✨ (correct me if I’m wrong).

But an au that contains SINGING provides OPPORTUNITY. See, Dream’s well known , recognizable, popular, surely he is unique in some way. “Pretty voice” is Great and all, But he gives me ‘actually talented vocalist’ vibes. like. Imagine he’s got this really pretty atmospheric voice, pretty normal idea. Now ELEVATE THAT. Imagine he has the vocal capacity to be gritty. I’d ASSUME that’s not their music style typically (I have no idea what their music will be like to be clear) but just the ABILITY. To be really raw and powerful. And it comes out sometimes *ascends* that makes it more interesting imo. He’s sweet, mipy cinnamon roll. But boy could keep up with like a metal band if he wanted. That’s just equally funny and amazing.

I have example ideas but I’ll leave that out unless someone wants em so that this isn’t torture text to read hhhhh.

I just. Have brain worms at this point. If you’re still reading this, kudos.💀💫

My brain is also convinced that dream gets passionate in that way when he’s absorbed in emotions rather than performance. Like, if he’s invested in a song, he sometimes disassociates. That’s when the most impressive performances happen either way, I imagine ink and blue let it happen and just keep an eye on him. subtly snap him out of it afterwards.

ONE MORE THING I PROMISE I’ll stop.

He really likes Error. As a celebrity. I have an explanation I promise. Original Dreamtale Dream, according to the creator, has a respect for error. INTERESTING, right? You’d think their opposing morals would suggest otherwise?

This is ME interpreting (SIDE TANGENT)⚠️

But maybe Dream sees some of himself, or understands Error despite not interacting much. The both have a conviction, a belief, and they adhere to/ act on that. …alone. ERROR is convinced that alternates of the original world are bad, so he’s convicted to take care of it. It’s HIS responsibility in his mind. And the task is IMPOSSIBLE. he knows that deep down. But he tries, and he's all alone in it.

DREAM has been conditioned to believe that his worth/ purpose/ existence all ties back to making sure everyone is happy. That’s IMPOSSIBLE. But, he’s convicted of this as his sole purpose. So he tries. And he knows it’s impossible. And he’s all alone in it. They are both just isolated. So while dream doesn’t necessarily agree with him, specifically his erm, methods. (Cause dream DOES understand balance and probably can somewhat understand his pov) he doesn’t hate him, he has RESPECT. EVEN MORE INTERESTING IF YOU INCLUDE INK. He may align with Inks values MORE than Errors. He’s respectful towards and works together with Ink. But I think Ink has lost his respect. It’s confirmed that in dreamtale, dream and ink have some sort of falling out. There’s broken trust. Imagining inks response to dream not disliking error as much as he should is interesting. Lmao ig they both have drama with ink. (END SIDE TANGENT)⚠️

ANYWAYS. Back to applying this to Idol! Error strikes me as a more ‘senior’ idol. I’m just imagining dream enjoys watching his performances and keeping up with his fanbase, just. Happily watching interviews and listening to his music sometimes. <3 Does he entirely emulate him? no X) he just liked him. And if he takes notes sometimes, that’s his business.

ink: ‘REALLY? THIS GUY? He’s an Asshole!!!’

dream: *sighs dreamily* yeah…

meanwhile blue probably has managed to casually say hi to the guy and make friends. Dreams too shy. An interaction would be very awkward. But an colab would be an drEaM come true .(wow! So funny!) Ink half heartedly hating the guy.

also I’m JUST saying.

Error. Dream. messed up. sleep.

Insomnia. I JUST. Like the idea. *evaporates* if I count as a fan, the fans want a colab >:(

I’m going to assume we all already are guessing dream and nightmare have some sort of drama🤪. I really like the idea of the MT.trio and The Stars performing together , despite probably being rivals, but I wonder if MT.trio looking up to Nightmare would affect that. Like, depending on how the twins feel towards each other, Nm might be like ‘avoid dat biatch’ and the trio is like ‘yes yes, very bad’ 😪✨ (also if what are their FANBASES like???? Like interacting with each other?? Drama much?) also I guess this could apply to Error. Is he a rival to nightmare? Are they friendly? Either way, does he care much about nightmares opinion? If they are RIVALS him interacting with dream and crew is funny.

(I imagine blue is friends with like everyone anyway. And ink probably would tolerate him if he had to.) but If nightmare is negative towards dream, and Error is a friend of his, it’s kind of great imagining Error just being chill and aloof but mentally assessing dream when they interact, keeping in mind what nightmare has said. Next time nightmare complains about his brother errors like ‘lol ur little bro seems perfectly normal but ok hoe B)’ *proceeds to hang with both of them*

(god it’s longer than I wanted ahem.)

ANYWAYS.

I NEED TO STOP GOODBYE NOW :) these are all just goofy ideas and now I need to actually go be productive at 2 am.

I like discussing silly things so like, feel free if you somehow read to the bottom💀.

Idol! Dream by @tuxibirdie

Idol! Au by/ belongs to @zucchiyeni

dead brain cells by @ me.

[ninjaneonleon]

Odile’s confession

Start

Prev

The day by the lake had to be one of Donnie’s favourites. Leo, in his crow form, never left Donnie’s side for even a moment. He perched on Donnie’s back, flew laps around him and even performed tricks in the air when Donnie found himself getting bored. And the best part was, Donnie remembered every moment of the past few days. There was no haze, no confusion, he didn’t even need to worry about his notice board or his bracelet, it was all still there. Odette’s soul, though, Donnie knew she had forgotten. Submitted to the harsh reset. Maybe because Donnie now had his own twin supporting him, maybe that was why he was unaffected and why Odette was.

Leo got more fidgety when the sun started setting. He stopped being so playful and went and hid in his tree, letting out small warning caws at Donnie when he approached. Something was making him uncomfortable. Was he scared? Was he worried about how he’d react when he changed back? Donnie wasn’t sure but he desperately wanted to help his twin. Still, Leo wanted space so Donnie gave it to him.

When the moon rose, Donnie instantly made his way over to Leo’s willow tree. Surely Leo’s curse worked the same as Donnie’s did, surely he’d be fine. He had Donnie to support his memory, and he was strong and wilful anyway. He’d be able to power through anything that Von Rothbart could throw at him.

Leo wasn’t visible in the branches, not as a bird or as a dancer.

“Leo?” He called, worry starting to prickle along his wings.

“That’s not my name.” Leo’s voice hissed behind him. Donnie stumbled forwards, falling the the shore as something hit his shell. When Donnie turned and looked up, Leo stood above him.

Leo’s eyes blazed blue, a deep cerulean that matched his former mask but was a far cry from his previous heterochromia. His skin was an even deeper green than before and his markings stood out even more vividly. Donnie was certain that Leo’s yellow stripes were now edged in red as well. His expression was hateful and angry but confident.

“You know who I am. Don’t confuse me for Leo,” Leo snarled. “I’m not so weak as he was.”

Donnie was on his feet in an instant. Leo’s curse had gotten stronger, somehow. Was his soul merging faster with Odile’s? That shouldn’t be possible, it took Donnie years to get to his current point, Leo shouldn’t be so far gone so quickly. Donnie had to do something.

“Odile?” He asked hesitantly. Maybe appealing to her soul would help Leo.

Leo’s scowl deepened. “Don’t call me that,” he hissed, stepping closer to Donnie threateningly. “Don’t call me what- what she named me. I am Leandro. That’s the name that I chose.” Donnie was certain he saw the flash of tears in the corner of Leo’s eyes. “I respect you enough to call you Othello, I deserve the same respect now.”

“Le— Leoandro, what’s wrong?” Donnie didn’t understand. Why was Odile’s soul so angry?

Leo turned and walked further into the lake.

“It doesn’t matter. Come out to the water so we can get this over with. I won’t lose to you again.” Leo’s voice was much more curt, more abrupt now. He sounded like he was in pain. “I’ll get that treasure from the lake for Father and you won’t stop me.”

Donnie didn’t move from the shore.

“No. I won’t fight you.” Donnie wouldn’t let Leo or Odile or whoever he was talking to bait him. He wouldn’t fight his twin again. “Something’s wrong. Let me help—“

“Oh, like you helped when you left?” Leo snapped, not looking back. “Like you helped when Father took me and Mother took you? Like you helped when Father realised I was better at magic than you so I was useful?”

Leo turned, tears streaming down his face but a cruel smile on his lips. “Poor, poor Othello. Always a crybaby, always Mother’s favourite.” He swayed a little where he stood, almost unstable on the silvery roots that supported him. “Such a beautiful dancer but so useless otherwise. No magic and so weak. I might not have been as good a dancer as you but at least Father wanted to keep me, at least I was useful. It doesn’t matter that Mother took you away and you never came back for me, that you didn’t even say goodbye. It doesn’t matter because Mother never came back either. At least Father kept me close, trained me in magic so I could find you and bring you home so he could punish you for leaving me all alone!”

Leo was panting by the time he finished. His eyes widened as he realised what he said and his wings spread. Not a moment later, he was gone, flying off into the forest and leaving Donnie to process what he had just learned.

Odile had been left alone with Von Rothbart. She didn’t know that he had been planning on destroying Odette. Odile just thought she had been abandoned again. First by Ilma when she had favoured Odette and then again by her twin when she never came home. Donnie’s heart ached and Odette’s soul screamed in pain.

Donnie had to find Leo.

He ignored the sounds of people arriving at his lake, he ignored the calls behind him. Donnie spread his wings and shot into the air.

He had to find his twin and fast. Who knows what would happen if the Crow found Leo again, especially if he was empty handed. Odette’s fear at even the thought of that overtook any rational thinking that Donnie could have applied.

Donnie didn’t have to go far. He heard familiar sounding sobs in a treetop near the lake. Thank the stars.

He landed nearby, listening and seeing if he could figure out how to help. Emotions weren’t his forte, or Odette’s. She felt too strongly and Donnie struggled with voicing what he felt. Listening for what Leo, or in this case Odile, was going through might give him some insight.

“Stupid twin,” Leo muttered through his sobs. “Just because he’s so beautiful and so talented doesn’t mean that he can just get away with— with everything. I don’t know why I even bother trying to be fair. He never was. Mother always loved him more. Father— Father knew I was useful. But he’s gonna love me. I’ll bring him home and Father will be proud of me properly. I’ll be a proper crow and not this stupid black swan anymore. I’ll be like him and I won’t be the worst twin anymore.”

Donnie didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t think of how to make any of this better.

So he didn’t think. Instead, he flew up to Leo’s branch and perched nearby.

“Mother loved you too, you know,” he murmured, not flinching when Leo gasped and shuffled backwards. “She loved you so much. But she also knew that because Father was interested in your magic, you’d be safe. I wasn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t you be safe?” Leo spat, scrambling to his feet. “You were basically perfect. Perfect and graceful and beautiful. A perfect swan.” His eyes became an even brighter blue as Odile surfaced even more.

“But not a perfect assistant.” Donnie let himself fade a little into his connection with Odette. She needed to speak to her twin, not Donnie. “We both changed back during the day. And I couldn’t help with any magic. Mother kept me close to protect me, not because she didn’t love you.”

“Father wouldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt us.” Leo insisted.

“And yet, he’s forcing you to be something you’re not. You’re not a crow. You’re a swan. A beautiful, graceful, elegant black swan.” Donnie found himself smiling softly. “My twin who I love dearly. And I’ve missed you so much, Leandro.”

Leo teared up again, staring at Donnie for a moment before launching himself towards him. He clung to Donnie and sobbed, his wings drooping.

“I’ve— I’ve missed you too! When Mother left with you, Father said it was because you didn’t love us anymore!” He wailed, curling as close as he possibly could. Donnie just wrapped his arms around Leo and stroked his shell. “I just wanted it to stop hurting. I don’t wanna fight you.”

“Then we won’t fight,” Donnie promised softly. “C’mon, let’s go back to the lake and we can talk properly, yeah? We can get cozy under our tree and we can figure this out.” Leo nodded mutely, nuzzling closer to Donnie.

After a moment longer, once he had calmed down a little, he spoke again. “Othello? Why is everything blurry? I don’t feel like myself at all.”

“Because there is a lot going on, Leandro. Just trust me when I say this: we’ll figure it out. Like we always did when we were kids. And I promise, I won’t ever leave you again.”

———————

Another part so soon? I know, shocker. But the plot bunnies woke up today and chose violence and so give you angst!

Edit: part 8

Swanatello belongs to @tangledinink

Crownardo belongs to @dryad-druid

[missnancywritesfanfic]

Meeting After Hours Scenarios

Characters: Baizhu, Kaeya, Zhongli, Kaveh

Contains: Light Angst/Comfort, Fluff, Drinking and Smoking

A/N: The ideas will continue to pour out of my head until there is nothing left but a husk 🫠Was listening to Liz - Remi Wolf when writing this hehe~

--

He's been visiting more often. He always sits in the back of the room, furthest away from the stage and watches your performance. It wasn't much, just jazz music after a glass of whiskey. It's your job. There are other patrons that have come for one reason or another, as long as they didn't cause a disturbance they can stay and watch.

They never really paid attention anyways, your voice went in one ear and out the other. Just white noise to them. But he drank it in like getting high off cold medicine; dangerously often.

And when it came to closing time, you'd get ready to go home, but not without greeting your secret admirerer.

BAIZHU

"You know I appreciate your company, but I'm worried you'll catch a cold easily."

He did well to hide his contempt as you wrapped yourself in a warm shawl. How he hated your concern for his health like he was some child. You mean well, in fact, it's rare that you even make comments like that. But it didn't matter, compared to others it hurt more coming from you. Not when you were neglectful of your own health.

You let out a huge yawn, the bags under your eyes were quite prominent.

"I think for once, you'd do well to think about yourself before even considering me."

"Not like I can take a day off. Why don't you close the pharmacy for a day?"

"I have patients, much worse than the customers at your day job."

You hum, soaking in his words. He had a point. To keep yourself afloat you kept two jobs and a horrible sleep schedule. Baizhu was always there to offer his help without compensation, it was a bit annoying. But he wanted to take care of you, like you try to take care of him.

"Maybe I should catch a cold. That way, we can spend the day together."

Before he could respond, you lean in to kiss his cheek. His cheeks suddenly flush red and you laugh.

"You're too sweet to me, Baizhu."

KAEYA

"Mm, Sumeru for two weeks? The knights'll be lost without you."

You light a cigarette and take a drag from it. He leans against the wall, looking down at you relaxing on the bench.

"The Knights of Favonious are more than capable of handling themselves. Besides, we can never be in too much danger with our Dark Knight Hero constantly hovering."

You blink and stare up at him. It's been a while since you've seen that pensive look on his face, it's that kind of night, huh?

You shuffle to the side and pat your warmed up spot on the bench, he wordlessly sits next to you, and you lean against his shoulder. You can feel the tension already leaving him as you latch onto his arm.

He isn't like this with anybody else, you're not entirely sure why, but you never asked, scared he'd shut down. At the start, despite his flirty nature, you liked talking to him. You never pulled your punches and always called out his sly attitude, which he hated at first. In fact he would disappear for days, until showing up out of the blue in desperate need of your comfort.

Now, you've made a habit to chat with him often and make sure he was mentally sound. Well, as mentally sound as he could manage.

"Will you be travelling alone? Or is Klee coming along with you this time?"

"The little one can't help but be around me. So looks like I'll have my work cut out for me."

You chuckle softly.

"That's good to hear. You're a good big brother, looking out for her on her adventures. But don't forget to look out for yourself, understand?"

He returns your smile, caressing your cheek before planting a kiss on your forehead.

"It's sweet the way you always worry about me, doll."

ZHONGLI

He's there waiting for you when you step out of the bar, with an arm around for you to take. There's always a regal air about him that made your cheeks burn, it was almost addicting to be around.

It's a routine you two engage in, you're not sure how it began, but every late night you work he's there to walk you home. And you talk the entire way. Well, he talks and you listen. If there's one other thing you've learned about Mr. Zhongli, is that he always has a story to tell about Liyue. From its birth to its textiles, he'd recount it all in great detail.

Not that you mind, despite living in this nation, you've always felt like a foreigner. In a weird way, he made you feel at home. Like you belonged.

"This is my stop."

You both stop at your front door, a scratchy welcome mat awaiting you like always. You untangle yourself from Zhongli's arm and unlock the door.

"A-Ah, of course..." You look back, nearly missing the disappointment in his voice. He gave you a gentle smile and bowed. "Have a good night, then."

You feel a bit uneasy watching him turn his back. But this is how it always ends, nothing special. Then why, this time, do you get the feeling he's really lonely..?

"Zh-Zhongli..?"

He turns back to look at you. You shyly open your door to welcome him inside.

"Did you want to come inside for some tea? I don't think our talk on textiles can wait till tomorrow night."

KAVEH

"Kaveh..?" You gently shake his shoulder. "It's closing time." He only responds in grumbles. You sigh gently and let your boss know you'll take care of it.

It's not an unusual occurence. You've known Kaveh for a long time and you know it's only a matter of time until he spirals just like this. He's a busy man with no sense of self-preservation, and it always scares you to see him like this. But you suppose this way, you can actually keep an eye on him.

Getting him home isn't an easy feat either. You've been fortunate every now and again to see one of his friends with him, they usually bring him home. But not tonight.

You manage to wake him up and have him drink at least one glass of water before you were out the door. He lives in the opposite direction of your house, but you didn't mind. Sometimes, his roommate was kind enough to lend you the guest room if you really wanted it.

You never do. You didn't want to impose.

"I feel awful..."

You hum in response as you lay him down in his bed. He has an arm over his eyes, shielding them from lights that aren't even on. You sigh softly.

"Get some rest, Kaveh. I'll see you later."

Just as you get up, he fumbles to grab your hand. "Don't leave...please don't..."

"You know I can't stay, I have to go home."

"I know, I'm sorry..." He hiccups. Tears fall down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, please don't leave me..."

You carefully pull his arm back and wipe his tears away. He leans into your touch, calming down almost instantly.

"I won't. I promise."

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Sticky

Dieter Bravo x f!reader oneshot

Written as part of the Consent universe (set at at unspecified point in time after the series), but can be read as a standalone as I did not include any details of the series itself.

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: After a calamitous day at the beach, Dieter is only too happy to put you in a sticky situation - with a melted Kit Kat.

Warnings: Chaotic!Dieter, dirty talk, food play, dry humping, masturbation (m), handjob, blowjob, public sex, no use of Y/N, very lightly proofread so apologies for any typos

Word count: Under 3k... apparently I can't write anything shorter 🤷🏻‍♀️

Note: Surprise! I'm back from my holiday! Thank you all of you lovely people for being so patient with me over the past month, this is for you! It was such a fun little warm-up for me as well before I resume working on the next part of Consent. I hope you enjoy this little filthy, lighthearted interlude 😉

Thank you @mandoblowmybackout for reassuring me this is not a crap idea ❤️

Dieter Bravo isn’t really a beach person.

Sure, he doesn’t mind looking at one while sipping on a tropical cocktail with a swirly straw, in a jacuzzi on a private yacht, miles away from said beach.

That’s not what you have in mind though, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell you.

You want to show him the local beach, which you say is the only thing worth seeing in your one-horse town. You borrow your neighbour’s beat-up truck so you don’t get sand in yours, and load it up with two portable sun loungers, a faded sunbrella, towels, and a cooler stuffed with beer and lemonade. You even make sandwiches for lunch. PBJ à la Dieter for him (Sriracha over strawberry jam - you don’t judge, it’s hardly the weirdest thing he is into anyway) and a less adventurous ham and cheese for yourself.

You’ve driven the hour-long journey since he doesn’t have a licence, and you’ve hummed to the radio the whole way.

You’re excited, so he’s trying to enjoy it. He really is. 

But.

The beach is a solid twenty-minute walk on a sandy path through the woods. Try walking on sand in Crocs. He’s slipping on sand both inside his damned shoes and beneath them. He’s offered to carry the sun loungers and the cooler, and his favourite faded green t-shirt is saturated with sweat when the beach comes into view.

By the time you decide on the perfect spot, he is winded. Dieter has never been sporty, but even he thinks this is a pathetic performance. He tries to breathe in and out as discreetly as he could and hopes you don’t notice.

It’s another ten minutes before the sunbrella and loungers are set up, and the cooler plonked in the middle, by which time Dieter is positively dying for a beer.

At least the beer is cold, and he sighs as it settles in his belly. This is better. He takes stock of the beach from behind his sunglasses. It’s a charming little crescent of sand and blue water, enclosed by thick forest on both sides. It’s a weekday, and there are only a few other people scattered about. You assure him that no one around town would know who he is, and he believes you.

‘Here,’ you pipe up from your chair, tossing him his sandwich.

Catching your hand, he presses a kiss to the back of your fingers. ‘Thanks, sweetheart. This is pretty great.’

You smile back at him and tuck into your ham and cheese, leaning back in your chair with your legs bent at the knees, your sundress riding up.

He hums happily as he bites into the sweet and spicy sandwich, talking with his mouth full. ‘This is delicious, sweetheart.’

You shake your head. ‘You’re so weird, Dieter Bravo.’

He grins back insolently. ‘Gotta have my lovable quirks or I’m just another Hollywood asshole.’

No sooner has he taken a second bite does he hear an aggressive buzzing approach from behind. He watches in horror as not one, not two, but three wasps start circling his sandwich. 

Two problems.

Dieter Bravo does not share food. 

More importantly, he does not like flying things.

‘Fuck!’ he squeaks and ducks to your side of the shade, sandwich abandoned on the lounger. The wasps crawl over the bread, antennae wriggling cockily as they plant their literal flag on his lunch.

‘Bravo, it’s just a few wasps,’ you chide.

‘They’re killing machines!’

You roll your eyes. ‘You’re confusing them with hornets. Wasps are much smaller and the worst they can do is sting you.’

‘It’s too late,’ Dieter mopes. ‘They win.’

Leaning over, you stuff the rest of your ham and cheese sandwich in his mouth to stop him sulking. ‘C’mon. This will take your mind off the stupid wasps.’

You pull your dress over your head, and you smile smugly at the way Dieter’s jaw hangs open, sandwich and all. You’re wearing your new lemon print swimsuit and you make a show of bending down to fish the sunscreen from your bag. 

By the time you stand up, Dieter has circled his arms around you, hot breath in your ear. He traces thick fingers over the cutouts on the waist. ‘You’re gonna get some really interesting tan lines.’ 

Squeezing a big blob of sunscreen in your palm, you pass the tube to him. ‘Just do my back, Dieter.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

Once the both of you have rubbed in the SPF, you kick off your flip flops and start at a run. ‘Let’s go, Bravo!’

He follows, Crocs flying behind him, but he’s only taken a few steps before his knees nearly buckle from the heat under his feet. The sand is literally burning hot. He watches you splash into the sea. How the fuck are you running on this?

By the time he gets there, he can’t feel his soles, but the water is a welcoming balm. You emerge from the waves, beaming while you stand in the waist-deep water. Without warning, he tackles you, big hands on your waist, and you squeal as he bundles you into the warm sea.

You cough when you break the surface, legs around his waist, pushing your fingers through his wild curls to slick them back. ‘Nice, huh?’

‘Pretty nice,’ he concedes, one hand snaking down to squeeze your ass cheek under the water, making you squirm and hit his shoulder in a warning.

Maybe he can get used to this.

He isn’t sure what happened. One second he’s leaning in to kiss you, and the next, there is a searing pain on his big toe. Letting go of you with an anguished howl, he flails and dashes out of the water, trying to shake free of whatever is clinging onto his foot in a death grip.

Dieter looks down - it’s a fucking crab with its big claw clenched tight around his toe. He dances on one foot as he tries to shake it off, but it hangs on for dear life, dangling stubbornly from his foot. With a mighty swing of his leg, the crab finally lets go and sails through the air, landing back into the water with a splash somewhere in the distance.

‘Oh my god, are you ok?’ you run up behind him.

There is no blood, but he grimaces at the dark purple bruise that is already blooming. ‘You know what, sweetheart? I think I’ll just sit it out for a bit and have a Kit Kat.’

Your face is pinched in worry, and you wring your hands. ‘I’m so sorry, I haven’t even seen any crabs on this beach before.’

Dieter puts on a brave smile that he hopes is convincing. With a peck on your lips, he assures you, ‘Go swim, I’ll wait.’

He hobbles back across the scorching sand. He really needs that Kit Kat and a cold beer.

Except he can’t find the fucking Kit Kat. He turns your bag inside out and checks the cooler. He swears he packed it this morning. Flopping onto your lounger in frustration (the wasps are still going at his sandwich on his, more of their friends having joined in), he takes a big swig of beer, hoping it would dull the painful throbbing in his big toe.

He should’ve brought some fucking weed.

He must have dozed off. He all but jumps out of his skin when he feels cold droplets of water falling on his face. Cracking an eye open, he realises he’s in direct sunlight, with you leaning over him, your lips cool from the ocean as you brush them against his mouth.

‘Did you have your Kit Kat?’

‘I couldn’t find it,’ he laments and pulls you into his lap, your wet body an instant relief from the midday heat. You suddenly frown, looking at him strangely, and he asks, ‘What is it?’

‘Your face is looking quite red - did you top up on sunscreen after going into the water?’

For fuck’s sake. Now that you mention it, his face feels tender. ‘No, I forgot. The sun must have moved while I was napping.’

You turn and glance down at his feet. ‘Your toe looks quite swollen too. We really should get home and get some antiseptic on it.’

‘Sorry for cutting the day short, sweetheart,’ he says sheepishly while the both of you pack up. 

You give him a teasing grin. ‘You’re just a bit of a disaster man everywhere you go, aren’t you?’

He growls and pinches you on your thigh for making fun of him, drawing a squeal out of you. ‘Not my fault that the beach hates me.’

The walk back to the car hurts, to say the least. The sand grates painfully on the bottom of his feet - he’s sure he’s got second degree burns on his soles. His toe hurts so much he can hear it pulse all the way up in his ears, and he’s beginning to feel the sunburn on his nose.

He nearly falls onto his knees in relief when he catches sight of the parked truck, thankfully in the shade.

You nod at the front and toss him the keys. ‘You get in the car and get the AC going. I’ll pack up’

He kisses you on the cheek. ‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ 

Opening up the driver’s seat door, he starts the car, turning the AC up to the highest level. Even though the truck is in the shade, the heat inside the car is still oppressive. He’s about to close the door when he spots something red in the cup holder on the passenger side.

At the back of the car, you nearly drop the cooler when Dieter yells, ‘MY KIT KAT!’

Three seconds later, he rounds the back of the truck, the chocolate bar hanging limply from his thumb and index finger, his bottom lip jutting out. ‘It melted.’

He cuts such a sad figure with his shoulders slumped, sunglasses perched low on his peeling nose. You can even see the purple of his swollen toe through the holes in his Crocs.

Taking his hand, you pull him in and wrap your hands around his neck. Placing a kiss on his cheek, you try to pacify him. ‘Let’s go home. I’ll make it up to you - in the shower.’

That piques his interest. ‘Oh yeah?’

‘Oh yeah,’ you reassure him with a lopsided smile.

He pauses, and you can see the moment the proverbial light bulb goes off in his head. His lips quirk, mischief colouring his eyes as he pulls your hands from his neck. ‘Actually, now that I think about it - there’s something you could help me with right here.’

You arch an eyebrow and echo his words back at him. ‘Oh yeah?’ 

‘Oh yeah,’ he nods. He drapes one of the towels on the back of the truck and pats the surface. ‘Hop on, sweetheart.’

You do as you’re told, giving him a look. You’ve parked up against a thick line of bushes, far away from the five other cars in the area, and there’s no one else around.

You’re in just your swimsuit, and in your rush to leave, you haven’t even towelled your hair dry. You feel a droplet of seawater slide down your front, into your cleavage. ‘What are you up to, Bravo?’ you ask suspiciously.

Reaching behind you, he tugs on the string that holds your swimsuit together, and you take a sharp inhale when the humid air hits your bare front. ‘Dieter - ’

He groans when your tits tumble free, cupping one in his big hand, his chunky rings digging into your soft skin. ‘So pretty, sweetheart. Lean back just a little bit.’

You shift, palms landing behind on either side of you while you lean backwards. Your clit brushes against the soft towel beneath, making you moan. ‘What are you -’

Before you can finish your sentence, Dieter’s ripped open the Kit Kat with his teeth. Giving you a brazen grin, he proceeds to drizzle the melted chocolate onto your chest.

‘Dieter!’ you gasp, eyes wide as the thick liquid drips, slow as syrup, onto your skin.

‘What?’ he asks, all wide-eyed innocence. He tosses the empty wrapper over his shoulder. ‘I have to have my Kit Kat somehow. Don’t I deserve it after the rotten day I’ve had?’

With the flat of his tongue, Dieter looms over you and licks a hot trail up between your tits, dragging the melted chocolate upwards before swallowing with a gravelly mmmm that reverberates in his chest.

‘Don’t I?’ he prompts you again.

‘Yes,’ you answer breathlessly.

The corner of his mouth turns up in a satisfied smirk, before he dives down again to swipe his tongue along the underside of your breast, and a shudder runs through you. His brow wrinkles as he smacks his lips. ‘You taste so good, sweetheart.’

You really shouldn’t be letting Dieter Bravo suck, lick and slurp his melted Kit Kat bar off your tits in a public beach parking lot. And it really shouldn’t turn you on this much. You start rutting your hips against the truck, rubbing on the towel underneath as he groans, his head buried in your chest.

‘That’s it, baby,’ he croons, and you can feel his teeth against your skin as he grins. ‘Doesn’t it feel good?’

‘Fuck yes,’ you admit through gritted teeth, one hand tangled in his salt-crusted curls, arching your back when he finally closes his lips around one nipple and sucks hard. 

‘Jesus Christ,’ he groans, sticking his right hand crudely under his swimming trunks to grip his cock, while he sucks on your left tit, licking it clean. ‘You’re so sexy, sweetheart. Getting that pussy nice and wet without using your hands. Clever little thing, aren’t you?’

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him stroke himself under his pants, somehow not being able to see it makes it even hotter. Your hips quicken, dragging your clit on the hard surface to relieve the tension between your thighs.

Turning to your right breast, you feel his hot breath hit your skin as he laves your nipple with his tongue. ‘They should do a sea salt and chocolate Kit Kat.’

You laugh. ‘You should pitch it to Nestle.’

‘And I’ll tell them exactly how the idea came to me,’ he chuckles, before nibbling unexpectedly on the side of your breast, making you cry out. Your pussy clenches, unable to hide your desperation as you hump the towel with firm rolls of your hips.

Dieter peers up at you from under long lashes, his smile crooked and cocky. You hear his breath coming out in harsh pants now, the movement in his pants hurried. ‘That’s a good girl. You gonna dry hump the truck till you come, baby?’

You nod, bottom lip caught in your teeth, words having abandoned you. You start to tremble as your cunt quivers, and when Dieter closes his teeth sharply over your nipple, you break - a wail caught in your throat as you let the orgasm rip through you, all the way down to your curled toes and your fingers pulling on his hair.

Glancing down at him, chest heaving, you watch him clean up the last spot of chocolate with his tongue, your skin now clear but still sticky from the sugar. He grins up at you, and you pull him in by the scruff of his tshirt to plant a messy kiss on his lips.

Reaching down, you knock his hand away and wrap your fingers tight around his hard cock, making him gasp and rock into your hand. ‘Baby,’ he pants. ‘That’s it, harder. I’m close.’

He whines when you push him backwards with one bare foot in his chest, but he promptly shuts up when you slide off the truck and kneel on the gravel, shoving his swimming trunks down. The intensity with which he looks down at you, curls wild over his eyes, knocks the breath out of you. Pumping your hand up and down on his length, you lick your lips and tell him plainly, ‘I want you to come inside my mouth.’

Dieter leans forward to grip the back of the truck with both hands and groans as you take him between your lips, eyelids drooping as he watches you slide wetly over his dick again and again. It doesn’t take much for his thighs to shake under your hands and for his hips to thrust into your mouth.

His voice is strained and his head thrown back as he babbles, ‘Don’t stop, sweetheart - please, you’re so fucking sexy swallowing my cock, taking me so well. Can you take me deeper, hmm? Jesus Christ that’s it, just like that, sweetheart. Just a little more and I’ll fill that filthy mouth like you want me to. You’re gonna swallow it all, hmm? Fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna come -’

With a strangled groan, his hips stutter and one hand weaves into your hair, gripping it painfully as his cum hits the back of your throat. You moan around his half-hard cock, milking him leisurely. He jerks as if electricity is running through his veins.

Slowly, the tension bleeds out of his body. You make a show of swallowing his cum, holding his unfocused gaze while you lick your swollen lips.

‘C’mere,’ he mutters, pulling you to your feet with an easy strength that never fails to excite you. One gentle index finger under your chin, he sweeps your face upwards to kiss you deeply. 

You can taste the chocolate on his tongue, and you know he can definitely taste himself on yours.

You tap your finger on his beautiful nose that desperately needs aloe vera, your body still crowded up against him, his hands skating over your lower back. ‘Feeling better?’

He shrugs nonchalantly, but his warm eyes and playful wink give him away. ‘What can I say? A Kit Kat always helps.’

[valvesandthings]

Hear me out- a dildo that sort of Bluetooth connects to a cybertronian. So- their human partner can use it and they feel it on their spike. Idk if this makes sense at all but it’s been on my mind so much lately… anyway- if you’d like, any scientist of your choice experimenting this new invention with their human partner?

So so sorry for the wait! I love this idea tho!

Brainstorm was a genius. A literal genius. He marveled at his latest invention, which was no larger than his own pinky finger. It was phallic in nature, curved slightly, and had rivets along its belly. He’d hand-painted it to match his own; light blue with two slender white stripes up the side. At the base there was a small port for charging, and a power button that blinked green when active. A similar light would blink on the sleek ring of metal that would fasten at the base of Brainstorm’s spike. The dildo was outfitted with thousands of microscopic but hugely sensitive sensors that, when active, linked to the ring around Brainstorm and delivered mirroring sensations, tricking his processor into believing he was the one inside his love, not the toy. 

Of course Brainstorm sought out his little human lover to run copious field tests. They received his message and gladly joined him in the lab while Perceptor was —well who cares where Percy was. Brainstorm certainly didn’t, not when he was busy watching his love finger themselves open on the counter, legs splayed and head tilted back, their mouth open slightly. 

“Primus you’re perfect,” Brainstorm hummed. He stroked his spike idly. He’d already fitted the device around himself and was so eager to feel his lover for the first time that he could hardly help touching himself. 

They grinned up at him and finally grabbed the toy from next to them. It looked large in their hands, but not too large. They held Brainstorm’s gaze as they turned it on and brought it to their mouth. They licked slowly up the belly and he trembled, his fists curling around the lip of the counter. 

“Does it work?” his tiny mate asked. They tilted their head slightly and sent him a harmless doe eyed look. Still grinning, they took the toy into their mouth and suckled on the tip. 

Brainstorm lurched, his hips jutting instinctively. “I think I ought to agree with your statement,” he grunted. “From a scientific standpoint.”

Feigning mercy, they popped their mouth off the end of the dildo and lowered it so that it hovered just before their wet sex. With slow confidence, they eased it inside, gasping as it struck new bundles of nerves. Above them, Brainstorm moaned, suddenly overwhelmed by the feedback from the device. His love was so warm and tight and wet and he was inside them without hurting them, and they were whispering his name and his praise and oh it was just so perfect. He overloaded before they could hilt the dildo. Transfluid shot up the counter and between his human’s thighs. 

They paused and looked up, grinning madly. 

Brainstorm quickly recovered from his embarrassment. “I think,” he panted, “I might need to turn the sensitivity down.”

“Or turn it up,” they suggested, “and see how many times you can cum.”

Brainstorm made a mental note to perform multiple tests to find the perfect sensitivity level, and to find the breaking point. “I like the way you think, darling.”

[one-piece-one-shots]

Sabo X CisFem Reader - Song fic

"How could you do this to me Marco?" You whined clutching the entertainment schedule.

"Do what to you yoi?" The blond asked calmly not looking up from his phone.

"This!" You waved the crumpled paper, "You have me performing tonight."

"So?" Another calm response.

"It's Tuesday... I don't do Tuesdays."

"Is it the Sabo thing yoi?" He asked finally glancing up to watch you flush wildly.

"N-no. Shut up." You dropped the schedule.

"Look, Kid's band canceled because they got a better gig. And honestly, you're much better than them yoi." He stood, "Sabo would have heard you sooner or later anyway. Now get out of my office."

You dramatically dropped your arms at your sides and turned to make your exit.

The stage was one of the few sacred places you had to escape your anxiety and self-loathing. You could bare your soul in the lyrics of a song. Most of the time you couldn't see passed the bright lights pointed at you so it didn't matter if people stared. Being the center of attention up there was better than being invisible off stage with everyone else.

Since puberty, your weight yo-yoed, which resulted in teasing and lots of left-handed compliments. Not to mention someone always being concerned for your health. You were always one of the guys because you were 'so funny' and had such a great personality. They always wondered why they couldn't find a girl like you.

When you got up to sing you shocked everyone. Such a smooth sultry alto tone emitting from a portly girl. It was as if people believed only thin people could have a flashy talent. You always felt like you were sticking it to them somehow, proving they were wrong.

Straight out of high school you fronted a band only to be kicked out because the boys felt no one would come to a show where a girl like you was leading. Since then you taught yourself to play guitar and frequented open mics all over The East Blue until Thatch and Marco found you.

The brothers owned a pub called The Blue Bird that featured live local performances, and the performers were also the staff. You had a weekly waiting and entertainment schedule. You'd made a deal with Marco to not put you on stage Tuesday nights when his younger brother Sabo worked. You harbored a ridiculous crush for the younger blond and refused to sing in front of him. Your stage nights happened to be his nights off.

"F/N?" Sabo called making his way across the room.

"What's up?" you shook your head and flushed making eye contact with his hazel gaze.

"Everything ok? I saw you're playing tonight!" he nudged your shoulder as he came to stand next to you, "Nervous?"

"Me? Never." you smirked hoping he couldn't see through your false bravado, "You should be nervous. I'm gonna show you boys how it's done."

"Oh, well then, I'm glad Ace and I don't play tonight. It would suck to be shown up." he played along, "I'm glad I get to see you play for the first time."

"Yeah," you rubbed your nape, "I guess you haven't been here my nights."

Little did you know, Sabo had been to every one of your performances. He, Ace, Thatch, Marco and the youngest Luffy are all brothers, adopted by Edward Newgate. The open mic night when the two eldest discovered you had been recorded and played for all of the brothers to make the decision to offer you a job. From that very moment he knew he needed to get closer to you and offered to do all of your training.

He was so calm and polite, unlike the other Newgate boys. You also had great banter, he just seemed to get you. If you made an off-putting joke or downed yourself in any way he was always there to stop you and somehow spin them into positive traits.

He tried countless times to get you to play with he and Ace or to even get you to practice with them, but you always refused. So, he snuck into the crowd whenever you sang just to get his fix.

Marco was the only person aware of your nerves and insecurities where Sabo was concerned, he was also the only one who knew Sabo's addiction to you. He moved Kid's band's gig just to see what might happen.

You forced your gaze down trying to swallow and remedy the dryness in your mouth. Knots twisted their way through your stomach just thinking about your performance time approaching.

"F/N~" Ace sang squeezing his way between you and his brother, "Are you nervous? I hear someone you're crushing on is here."

You dropped the ketchup bottle you were already struggling to fill, "W-hat? Who said that?"

"Marco told me." the raven laughed wiping up your mess.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about." you scoffed.

"That reaction says otherwise." Ace continued to tease.

"Go away." you swatted at him.

"Ok ok - geez!" he whined backing out of your reach.

Sabo had stood quietly gauging your reaction, his stomach dropping with the shade of red staining your cheeks. Of course, you had someone you liked he just wanted so badly for it to be him.

"I didn't know you had a crush on someone." the blond commented feeling a little bitter.

"It's hopeless." you should sighed.

"What makes it hopeless?"

You glanced up at him briefly, "I mean, nobody wants this."

"F/N, any guy would seriously be lucky to have you." he soothed, "You're intelligent, incredibly talented and - "

"Have a charming personality, but I'm a buddy, one of the guys, a sister." you interrupted.

Sabo frowned, "Ah..no I - "

"F/N!" Marco called rounding the corner from the main room, "Time to get your guitar yoi."

The younger blond let out a frustrated growl.

"Sorry Sabo." you gave a diminutive smile running your hand down his arm before following Marco to the door.

"Break a leg!" he called after you.

After changing and touching up your makeup you stood in the wings of the stage waiting to be announced. This was the worst. You didn't want him to see you sing because of how vulnerable it felt to have all of your feelings laid out around you. Seeing him made you nervous in a normal setting, having to play knowing that beautiful man was somewhere in the room was damn near crippling.

"We have a special set tonight...she's one of our favorites, please give it up for F/N." Thatch introduced you and exited the opposite side of the stage as you took a deep breath and approached the microphone.

Plucking your Epiphone from its stand, you slung it across your torso and leaned toward the mic, "Thank you all for coming," You cleared your throat, "it'll be a short set tonight because I didn't know I was performing. Tables 18 and 24, I'll have your drinks out when I'm done." the small crowd chuckled as you winked and strummed the teal semi-hallow.

"I don't want to talk about it to you

I'm not an open book that you can rifle through

The cold hard truth that you'll see right to

I'm just a basket case without you

He's not a magic man or a perfect fit

But had a steady hand and I got used to it

And a glass cage heart and invited me in

And now I'm just a basket case without him."

This was a song Sabo hadn't heard before. He stopped wiping down the bar and found himself drifting through the crowd.

"You're begging for the truth

So I'm saying it to you"

You searched the front of the crowd nervously through the stage lights, unexpectedly feeling your nerves melt as you met his hazel gaze.

"I've been saving your place

And what good does it do?

Now I'm just a basket case

Now I'm just a basket case

I don't say much and it'll stay that way

You got a steel train touch and I'm just a track you lay

So I'll stay right here underneath you

I'm just a basket case that's what we do."

You felt a surge of confidence watching a wide smile play upon his lips.

"Won't somebody come on in and tug at my seams?

Oh, send your armies in of robbers and thieves

To steal the state I'm in, I don't want it anymore

You're begging for the truth

So I'm saying it to you

I've been saving your place

And what good does it do?

Now I'm just a basket case"

Fading into the end of the song you realized you hadn't broken eye contact with Sabo. Flushing madly, you tugged at your blouse and averted your gaze back to the cheering crowd.

You played longer than you'd planned with encouragement from Marco and the crowd, which grew the longer you were on stage. An hour later you finally thanked everyone for coming and glanced down to see the empty space Sabo had left. A small frown tugged at your lips while you reminded yourself that he was actually supposed to be working the entire time.

Thatch crossed the stage handing you a hand towel and a bottle of water on his way to announce Luffy's band. Toweling the sweat from your brow and neck you took a seat on the steps backstage getting high fives from The Straw Hats as they passed instruments in hand.

"Uh hey." Sabo voiced sheepishly, approaching as boisterous noises erupted from the stage behind you.

"Hey." You nearly had to shout.

"Can - uh - we talk in a quieter place?" the blond asked offering you a hand.

Heat invaded your face," S-sure."

Your mind completely blanked while Sabo guided you to the breakroom shutting the door behind you. He seemed tense and nervous, making you feel like you might've done something wrong. Maybe you made too much eye contact and he felt like you were singing to him? Were you? Probably, thinking back on it.

Damnit. You knew it was a bad idea to perform while he was there.

"I uh - I know you have someone you like," He started, eyes darting around the room while you tried to distract yourself by putting your guitar away.

"Ah, no what Ace was saying earlier," you murmured, "you can ignore it."

"Good." He breathed sounding relieved.

Good?

"What?"

Sabo's face, neck, and ears began turning shades of red and pink as he kept his eyes fixed on your fidgeting hands.

"The thing is...I've seen you sing before. Actually, every time." He rubbed his nape, "Marco showed us all the video from when he found you and..." he trailed off losing his words while your heart began to race.

"Sabo?" you whispered after a few seconds causing his eyes to snap up to your beautiful heart shaped face.

"You know all that stuff you say about yourself - it isn't true. Y-you're amazing F/N." he moved forward closing in the space between you, "It isn't just your voice or your face or that you're smarter and funnier than all of us."

You stared up at him, caught in the unbelievable surge of emotions flooding your senses. The world around you fell away as he gently tapped his forehead on yours.

"It's you." you blurted, "Th-the crush... I mean."

"Good." He chuckled placing a chaste kiss on your nose, "I really like you. All of you."

Song - Basket Case - Sara Bareilles

[writingpei]

wicked games (l.m.) - chapter six

previous chapter series masterlist next chapter

pairing: lee minho x reader genre: academic rivals to lovers wc: 2.6k words

color me green

everyone ought to know not to mess with the extreme hormonal imbalance that gets tangled up in the form of teenagers.

because classes started in march, the education system pulled out one of the most important events that students would most like to experience during the school year, valentine's day. what happens is that, in haneul high school, the students could not accept such slander. in the 90s, the celebration of kiss day was created; it consisted of a day that was common to see heart-shapped confetti across the floor in the halls, people crying over being rejected and others with teddy bears and bouquets of red roses under their arms, bragging about the amount of confessions they received.

to say that day made y/n want to gouge her eyes out with her bare hands would be an understatement.

everything about the celebration made her feel odd. she could not shake feeling like an alien observer watching the girls her age and all their unspoken yearning, how they fell apart over loud displays of affection and exaggerated gifts. what's with the allure of romance anyway? she couldn't quite grasp it within her fingers, and for some reason, it stressed her out.

shaking her head as a way of physically trying to shift her focus to another corner of her mind, she quickly settles into thinking about hyunjin and theorizing how much her assistance had actually helped him on his math test.

she hadn't heard from the boy the last few days, ever since the test. she figured he must have blacked out after studying as intensely as he had for the first time in his life. or he probably failed, and that wouldn't be kind to her ego.

when she first stepped into school in the chilly morning, she noticed that the confetti hadn't been thrown all over the place yet, so she still had the margin to pretend that day was a normal day.

what caught her eye, however, was the employees hanging up a gigantic sheet of paper on the wall. a cluster of people started forming in a circle, curious eyes examining the words printed in oppressive black ink, some were on tiptoes trying to catch a glimpse among the sea of heads.

y/n hurried into the middle of the crowd. even though physical contact with so many people made her skin sting, she slipped into the tangle until she came to a stop in front of everyone to see all the rankings on display.

once she found her name in the first column of the chart signaling her perfect score, a wave of relief and satisfaction emanated through her entire body.

regardless of how focused she was on her own accomplishment, her eyes were captured like a magnet to the name right below hers, and, to bring even more joy to her day, with a not-so-perfect score...

while she made 100 points, lee minho's name got stained by a hideous 98.

after the hellish week the boy had put her through like he had decided out of the blue to tease her countless times more than he already did on a day-to-day basis, y/n allowed herself to rejoice at the feeling of pride she felt because of the score.

caught out of her blissful trance, she realized classes were about to start, if the halls beginning to overflow were any indication to follow. her steps were determined while she made her way to english class with certainty that nothing would strain her mood.

when her eyes found minho sitting at the back of the classroom with his pet friend on his side as usual, she didn't refrain from her calculated stride until she came to a stop in front of the boy. minho, seeing her approaching, already masked his lips with the classic sarcastic smile he always performed flawlessly whenever he saw her, taking advantage of any prospect to get her worked up.

"what do i owe you the pleasu-" he started, but quickly realized she wasn't having any of it at that moment.

"shut up, now it's my turn" she interrupted, crossing her arms and lifting her chin, superioring herself through her ever-so-fierce body language. "you got 2 math questions wrong on the test? what's going on with you? i hate to say it but you were better than this back in the day..." a smirk that held no trace of kindness bloomed on her face as a silent challenge to his own, that started to die down by the second, cheeks falling.

he just frowned as if he had come upon something that had a bad smell, disgust being physically transferred from her to him, tables turning.

"you know it's not like me to put the blame on other things when it comes to my performance, but taking this test in the same classroom as you really affected me. i almost had to go outside to throw up 3 times just because i couldn't shake off your presence inhabiting the same space as me."

"oooh, taking it to heart now, are we minho?" a humorous little laugh escaped her lips as she lightly tapped her fingers on her arms.

"this is much worse than when you're tearing your hair out just by listening to me" he rolls his eyes and turns his body completely towards the blond boy who was aggressively drinking from his juice box, not daring to spare a glance to the frightening girl in front of him. "she's so annoying, seriously..."

"so you can play the game but i can't?" the question sounded dumbfounded and she felt anger starting to bubble on her chest.

"uhm, duh-uh" he replied as if it was obvious. "i prefer it much more when you are locked up in your own brooding"

"i don't get locked up in brooding" her tone got higher at his ridiculous accusation. "i'm sorry to spoil your childish ways of entertainment but my pride won't allow you to remain unchecked"

"talk about your pride" he scoffed with all his might, disdain evident in his voice. "don't go putting all your judgment over me on a single test, especially the first one. i don't want to see you crying later when i start to take this seriously."

"what ever made you think that i'm afraid of you taking things seriously? if you are trying to humiliate me by attempting to put me at your level, i can tell you is not working" her hands slipped from her previously crossed manner, and descended to settle on top of his desk, leaning in as a way to provoke him. "your immaturity has no bounds whatsoever."

minho looked into her eyes in silence for a chain of seconds until he groaned in desperation, eyes rolling back and an irritated sigh escaping his lungs.

"ugh, today is going to be a good day for me filled with chocolates and love letters, so stop trying to spoil it with all your nagging on my ears" he said, eager for the conversation to end soon.

minho hated it when she was like this, and getting 2 questions wrong on a 40-question test was disgraceful enough.

sometimes he found himself believing that both of them were one and the same while being two completely distinct planets all at once. he could tell that her talent for consistent pestering was just like his, but he couldn't help but prefer when she was the one hot-faced and struggling to hold her unceasing rage from lashing at him in a deadly streak.

and he really was looking forward to all of the confessions he was going to receive throughout the day, that hadn't been a lie. the compliments that were thrown in his direction by lovesick girls always amused him and tickled his undying ego.

"you never fail to make me sick to my stomach" she says with a deep frown, knuckles turning white at how hard they were being pressed against his desk.

"speak to my hand" minho raised his hand towards her, mocking her with movements imitating someone talking. "ah, i'm park y/n and my favorite pastimes are terrorizing innocent classmates and institutionalizing extreme boredom" he spoke in a demon-like voice as if trying to imitate her, and she only managed to scoff at his antics.

it took all her strength to walk over to her usual spot at the table at the front without caressing his pretty face with an uppercut.

he was outrageously unbearable, lee minho was the worst of the world.

"you fell asleep in the middle of the math test. you wouldn't do that if you had doubts about any of the questions" yongbok started right after she left them be, looking at him from the corner of his eye, pinning him in an accusatory stare.

"the last few days have been weird for me, yongie, give it a rest" minho dismisses his friend while sulking and crossing his arms, face falling slowly until his forehead reached his desk.

"if you say so..."

“why, are you insinuating something?” it didn’t take many seconds for him to get defensive as he always did over topics like this. topics that were about her.

minho liked to perceive himself as a person who was fully aware and in control of why he did the things he did, and having someone who knew him as well as yongbok insinuating things bothered him beyond measure, making him doubt his own conscience.

“oh, no, never” he answered sarcastically and kept chugging the straw coming out of the orange juice box. 

“ugh, whatever” minho says finally, shrugging and pretending he didn't care. "you've been weird as hell these past few days too..."

the class went by smoothly and y/n believed that her good mood would be unshakable for the rest of the day. it all ended in shambles when the bell rang and people started to leave the room to go to their respective next classes.

it all ended in shambles because it was at that exact moment that hwang hyunjin burst through the door like a cannon, wide eyes scanning the complexity of the classroom in search of the girl.

"y/n! i've been looking for you everywhere!" hyunjin's voice calling out for her in such an open place and in the midst of so many of their classmates put y/n on alert instantly.

she didn't even think about looking to the back of the class to check if he was still there.

"um, what do you need?" asking carefully collected, she looked barely managed to scan around her to see if there were still a lot of people in the room who hadn't left yet.

"you are never going to believe it!" he was anything but quiet, still daring to bounce up to her in his unmatched good humor. "i got 30 out of 40 questions right on the test! can you believe it? can you?" he exclaimed, and she realized she hadn't looked up the boy's name when she'd seen the rankings earlier.

regardless of the non-existent relationship she had with hyunjin, the information left her very much satisfied. knowing that she had the ability to teach well meant that she could land some tutoring gigs down the road.

"that's nice, hyunjin" she responded with a small sign of contentment on her face.

while she started bending down to pick up her bag from the floor and going on her way, he stopped her by handing her a white bag.

"this is a thank you present for you. as soon as i entered the school and saw the rankings, i skipped the first class and ran to the bakery near the school to buy this. it's a cupcake, no big deal!"

but y/n's focus had been ripped from the words that came out of the mouth of the boy in front of her and thrown to the small whispers she heard behind her back as soon as he waved the gift in front of her face.

"oh my god..." a girl said.

"so the rumors were true? they're going out with each other?" another trailed.

y/n gritted her teeth and exasperation started building up inside her chest.

"hyunjin" she called him, firmly yet quiet as ever. "have you gone insane?"

"what? why?" the big smile that previously covered his face was replaced by an expression of pure confusion. "you don't like cupcakes? i'm sorr-"

"today is kiss day, you dumbass" she explained, holding the bag he had given her with only one finger as if she touched it more than necessary, she would be consumed by it on the spot.

"oh" was his first reaction, realizing that he had completely forgotten about the day. however, when he finally came to realize how what he just did could create such horrific misinterpretations, his eyes widened and he let out another "oh!", this time sharing y/n's panic.

after his comprehension of how grave the situation was, hyunjin's first instinct was to snatch the bag from her hand without hesitation or grace. "it's nothing like that!" he exclaimed loudly almost as if he was screaming at her, noticing that there was a considerable amount of people still in the room who were eyeing them curiously.

"tutoring session this friday again!" was the only thing he accomplished to say before running out the door with the same agitation he had entered it.

all's well that end's well.

"i hate cupcakes anyway..." she whispered at last, leaving the room without looking any of the people who saw the scene in the eye.

as if ignoring that everything that had happened would immediately be forgotten and left behind by everyone. she knew she was fucked.

"we're going to be late for the next class, minho" yongbok called over to the boy who was still sitting fixedly in the chair, eyes narrowed at what he had just witnessed.

with his best friend's call, he put the bag on his shoulder and started walking next to the blonde in wary strides.

"who was that poor guy?" he asked, a lump in his throat that felt like something else was trying to escape from his lips, but he couldn't put it in words.

"that's the hwang hyunjin you asked me about these days" yongbok clarified, not missing the bewildered tone coming from his friend.

"oh. i really had no idea who he was until two minutes ago."

after a few seconds of walking in eerie silence, a squeaky voice shouted "minho!" at their back, and echoed down the hall.

when they both stopped at their steps and turned around, they saw a small girl with long dark hair and red cheeks running towards them with a giant box of chocolates.

"this is for you!" she held the box out to him, starting to smooth her hair in a not-so-discreet way from the second he took it from her hands. "my name is bae minah, let's hang out sometime."

minho smirked mechanically but the genuineness was nowhere to be found. he still leaned into her slightly as if to take a better look at her, flattering the younger girl in the process as her eyes started to blink rapidly at the sight of him growing closer.

"yeah, sure, i'll think about it. bae minah..." he said and she opened a big - and pitiful - smile. 

and so they both went continued their way, leaving her behind.

"take this" minho held out the box to yongbok, who looked at him confusedly and adjusted his glasses that fell down his nose.

"don't you want it? it's a super expensive brand."

"nah" he said, looking away. "i'm actually feeling a little nauseous."

stay tuned for chapter 7! ☆

[vukovich]

It is technically time to open Peculiar Prompts to celebrate a milestone... but... I decided to prompt myself. So here we go.

--

Pret, prat. Tallywhack.

It was fencing practice again, one of Harry's more loathed cross-training exercises for duelling. At least with the boxing, Robards let them land real hits. The worst, though, was Turkish oil wrestling, because the only other Auror in Harry's weight class was Draco "Good Show Today" Malfoy.

Plenty of other guys got boners during those training sessions, but Harry was pretty sure he was the only one who'd ever surreptitiously blown his load in his pants. At least he hoped he'd done it with some measure of surreptition. Surrepition? Surrep... Syrup... tits... on...?

Anyway.

Fencing was still plenty irritating. He ended up paired with Malfoy half the time, which was bullshit, because Malfoy had started formal training with a sword when he was four.

Harry danced on his toes, dodged what he thought was the whipping tip of Malfoy's foil, realised he'd been faked, and got slapped in the ribs.

"Point!" Malfoy spat. He reset his stance, glancing behind himself at the wall. It was covered in dark blue padded mats.

"Come off the wall," Harry said, and took a step to the side to square up across the centre mark. "You always do that."

Malfoy just shrugged and stayed stubbornly in place.

"Why do you do that?" Harry asked.

"Even things out for you, Potter. Lord knows you've never challenged me when my back wasn't to the wall." He held his foil aloft, the point aimed at Harry's face. "Hate to break the streak for you. It'd be sporting of me to add a sink, really. Maybe a snivelling ghost for ambiance."

"Oh, that is it!" Harry spun to the side, lifted his foil to his shoulder like a javelin, and hurtled it at Malfoy.

Harry had a split second of horror, because neither of them could reach their wands faster than the airborne sword would meet Draco's face.

It flew, its middle wobbling and warbling, until it slammed tip-first into the wall behind Malfoy's ear. Padding puffed out of the wall like a spit take. The middle of the blade sang like a struck saw, and the handle swung in a lazy circle.

The metal and leather handle tapped against the meat of Malfoy's shoulder, then wavered its way up his face. Slowly, as the blade settled, the handle worked out a slow, ambling path up the side of Draco's cheek, then back down.

"Red card, Potter." He clicked his tongue twice. "Red card, indeed."

An embarrassed flush raced up Harry's neck, not only at having lost his temper so easily, but also... mostly... because the handle and pommel of his foil were similar in size and shape to his cock. And so the sight of it lazily stroking Malfoy's cheek, as if was working up the courage to slip between his lips, was just rather blush-worthy.

"Malfoy, I- I'm-" Harry stammered.

"No need," Malfoy said, soft and low. He leaned his cheek against the bobbing handle, holding it still. "Not the first time you've blown it in this gym, is it?"

Malfoy's voice was a purr. He let the handle of the foil come to rest against the hollow of his cheekbone. Harry's entire body ran hot.

Malfoy turned slowly, offering his lips to the handle of Harry's foil, to leather strapping still wet with the sweat of his palm. His lush, pink lips pressed against it, and Harry gasped.

"You're a rather poor performer in nearly every exercise," Draco said, briefly pulling his lips from the leather, as if he'd only grudgingly come up for air.

Harry's words lost speed in the back of his throat. "I am not," he said weakly.

Malfoy hummed, and the foil's blade shivered. So did Harry.

"I-" Harry started. "I beat you in tennis last week. Forty-love, even."

Malfoy hummed again. Harry let out a little moan, but Draco didn't seem to notice. "I was playing wrong-handed for a bit of sport."

Harry thought about it for a moment. Malfoy had served out wide that day. "You bastard."

Malfoy's smirk turned into a grin, and he ran his stretched lips gently against the handle. Harry watched as his face softened, first, his cheeks, then his eyes, and then his lips tenderly grazed the leather.

"There are other games," he said, quietly enough that only Harry could hear. "Better games." He dragged his lips down, down, until they grazed the bulge of the pommel. "To see who's the bigger man."

Harry's voiced exhalation of "Yeah?" meant 'Please' in every language.

The tip of Malfoy's tongue slipped out between his teeth, and he caught Harry looking. He smirked, pulled it back in, and let his lips spread around the side of the pommel. Harry gaped at him, slack-jawed, wide-eyed, and pants straining.

Malfoy's teeth showed, and he let the warm, damp leather lodge between them. Sharp, sharp teeth, the handle caught in them like a bridle bit. Malfoy's jaw tensed, and Harry gasped. His hand darted to protect his groin, but his other hand caught it mid-transit, making him look at ease, but suddenly.

Malfoy bit into the leather just enough to make a mark, then eased the handle from his mouth. "Don't worry, Potter. Bite inhibition is a part of good breeding."

Harry stammered three different replies, then gave up.

Malfoy plucked the foil from the wall and carried it to Harry. His eyes flicked to the locker room, then back to Harry, then back to the locker room.

"En-garde?" Malfoy asked, stepping closer.

Harry didn't have a reply beyond his thundering heartbeat.

Malfoy licked his lips, standing toe to to with Harry, but a half-head taller. Like a challenge issued, he said, "Pret."

Harry glanced at the restroom door. His chest was heaving, but he tried to hide it. He could make it to the showers. He could run that fast. He could make it past the sinks, around the corner. He wasn't faster than Malfoy, but he was more nimble, and-

Malfoy leaned down to his ear, snapped his teeth, and hissed, "Allez!"

And Harry ran.

--

[azulas-lightning-bolt]

okay so I’m not normally one to do {character} w plot of {disney character} or just another character in general but. but hear me out.

anastasia mako. HELP. for a little background I’m playing anya (anastasia) in my school play and my friend’s little sister is making us both watch the movie. it’s breaking my tradition of NEVER watching the movie before performing a show, so I’m just blasting the musical soundtrack on my headphones and posting this, so,,,

ANYWAYS! since I make everything about mako, let’s get going with this.

anastasia-mako parallels:

-orphan

-resemblance to royalty (specifically eyes—gold for mako, blue for anastasia)

-really funny when they get bitchy

-best friend is their little brother (alexei-bolin)

-important person who’s actually a street rat x street rat relationship dynamic (anya x dmitry, korra x mako)

-communist party/equalists!!

-keepsake item (music box/scarf)

-that’s all I’ve got but like. just listen.

zuko has two daughters; izumi and naoki. Izumi is destined for the throne and naoki doesn’t particularly want it—she’s left to her own devices, for the most part. then, naoki falling in love with an earthbender named san; they have two children, mako and bolin. mako and bolin are mixed, but current firelord zuko loves them all the same. they are raised in the palace until mako is eight and bolin is six. it’s at that point that a group of dissenters on zuko’s policies attack the palace, killing princess naoki and prince san in the castle, before abducting and likely also killing the little princes.

but a month later, the prince bolin returns! the fire nation celebrates, the beloved second branch of the royal family is not completely gone! but the halls of the palace are silent and devoid of celebration; the prince mako has not returned. and by the stone wall of silence prince bolin has made himself, it’s likely he never will.

but a month later, bolin speaks again for the first time since his parents’ death—mako is alive out there, somewhere, and they just need to find him. immediately, search efforts are employed, scouts and soldiers and notices sent out all around the world calling for help to return their prince. firelord zuko even offers a large bounty for his return, though he hates when it’s called such.

meanwhile, in republic city, a boy with no name and no memories wakes up on the side of a road. fresh snow painted the ground, blood (his blood?) soaking it red. the scarf wrapped around his neck matches in pigment. he shivers in clothing made of fine silks and meant for the warmth, trekking forward. he quickly discovers his clothes are worth enough to find something rougher for warm and cold. (he doesn’t consider for a second selling the scarf.) he doesn’t even know his own name, but the cold sinking beneath his skin tells him it’s a deal he needs to cut.

he finds odd jobs around. his first is working at a hospital. he doesn’t get payed monetarily, but they heal the nasty lightning scar that mangles him, stretching from his cheek and down his arm to his waist and feed him. the nice old lady named kya gives him odd looks now and then (she’s never met the prince mako, but she’s seen pictures. she should check. she just needs to check.) but she gives him extra clothes for free, so he doesn’t mind. he moves to washing dishes when the hospital can hire better equipped staff and his scar is healed. he needs to get actual yuan now—he wants to pay for passage to the fire nation. the scarf he clung to, a little embroidery was stitched into it; ‘together in caldera’. that’s his only clue to the eight years before, and he’s desperate to chase it.

he becomes a street sweeper after that, and uses whatever name people give him. he’s been masok and yiso and aizah and saijan and noriaki and roki and kichirō and just about every name under the sun. usually, people call him after their late family. something in that feels oddly fitting to him, but he doesn’t dwell on it. the name that sits the most in his head is masok, so it’s masok that he sticks with.

he spends his years with the triads. they all look at him the same way—a way he doesn’t see them look at the other kids who have no choice but gang work. he’s stared at like a prize. he gets invited to play a game of pretend, but he knows games with old men never end well for children, and he’s far too old for games like that by age 10.

he eventually settled in as an assistant for an office worker who rarely spares him a glance—he counts himself lucky that he’s no longer on the wrong side of the law and that he was never caught. where he is now pays well and if he keeps it up a while longer and is smart with saving, he’ll be on an airship and to caldera city in no time at all.

republic city falls into crisis, a madman calling himself amon leading the ‘equalists’ to try and destroy all benders. he only takes that as incentive to get out faster, while he still can.

and then, of course, the avatar comes crashing into his life in the most insane way possible. you would think it’d be unlikely for the avatar to encounter a paper-pusher, and you’d be right, except this particular avatar just ran over said paper-pusher with her giant ass polar bear dog which OW PLEASE GET IT OFF NOW!

she apologizes by taking him to meet her rich friend, asami, who’s helping her deal with the whole amon situation. he is decidedly not smitten immediately with either of them, especially because the avatar literally ran him over with her polar bear dog. but korra starts prodding him about the missing fire nation prince and for some reason asami (who had until then seemed reasonable) agreed. they argued that, without his scar and after growing out his scraggly close cut hair, he would look exactly like the prince. not even to mention that their timelines match up, and masok’s mystery past. he tells them they’re crazy, but the idea creeps on him, looming in the back of his head.

what if he is the prince? it does match up, there is a resemblance, and those little snippets of memory tug incessantly at his mind. a little brother, a loving grandfather, was it all really?

they teach him about the fire nation royal family. to jog his memory, they say, as he learns about bolin and zuko and izumi and naoki and san. they teach him to stand straight like a prince and not slurp his noodles and raise his chin but not look down his nose.

he follows along with their schemes, much to his chagrin, as he finds himself put on blast in amon’s threatening grip. an example is to be made of him, the world is told from a large screen. he tries not to break his composure, but something in this is familiar and his heart is beating out of his chest in an effort to understand exactly what.

amon says that mako should’ve learned his lesson years ago, when the palace was attacked, and never shown his scarred face again, much less at the avatar’s side.

mako, amon said.

and suddenly mako (yes, mako. that felt right on his tongue.) recalls bombs and screaming and burning flesh and a dead mother and father and the need to protect a little brother who was ripped away and a burning, burning, burning, and electric pain all down his side and then waking up and remembering none of it or any of what came before and he is the lost prince of the fire nation. he strikes up with fire and lightning crackles along his fingertips and he tells amon to finish him the way he finished his mother and father.

amon asks who he thinks he is, a pathetic child, to stand against the equalist forces. and mako (mako, mako, mako. that is who he always was.) proudly declares what he had not known he had a right to. he is prince mako, of the fire nation. amon will rise, or amon will die.

a stunning lightning strikes him at his side and amon does not get to choose. show us who you are, amon, an urging comes from within mako. he peels off the man’s mask. he is water tribe, a scar… painted(?) on his face. mako is on camera, he knows, but if there is something more than the identity reveal causing the panic on amon’s face, mako needs to find out.

the texture of his scar is nothing like mako’s, and he dumps water on it to be sure. the paint comes off dripping and—amon’s limbs twitch again and the water bends away from him. the leader of the equalists is a waterbender.

amon dies, as simple as that, with his brother at his side.

mako is ready to take some time to process what was revealed publicly, on national broadcast, that he hadn’t even known himself, but he can’t seem to catch a break. first korra and asami are affectionately assaulting him (oh god he’s in love with them both) and then prince bolin (bo, he always called him bo) is walking through the trap door of his attic.

mako just about falls over. why was he here? was he going to say that mako had died that night, and all his ‘memories’ were just tricks of the mind to suit his fancies? was he going to accuse mako of slandering the royal family because he looked so terribly taken care of that it was insulting to be associated with him?

none of this happened. he teared up, green eyes locking onto gold. he barrels forward, wrapping his waveringly declared brother in a hug. mako calls out a too-familiar nickname, too late to stop himself, sucking in a breath nervously.

it’s been too long, he is told. it’s time to go home. he still has the scarf, he affirms in hysterical relief.

and mako, masok, the street orphan with nothing but a brightly dyed red scarf to his name, puts on the robes of a fire nation prince with the avatar and a genius inventor at his side. he sweeps onto a balcony, falling into straight-backed composure with ease, greeting a sea of citizens.

a servant declares to his right,

“Prince Mako has returned home!”

[tickly-stuff]

Anything we can do to make you feel better?

This is a fic inspired by this comic strip made by Lele Liam on twitter!

This is a SLIGHT modification to number 14 on my tickle headcanonns!

Fandom: Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

Donnie was upset.

One of his gadgets that he had worked on for hours hadn’t been working as expected after MULTIPLE attempts.

He tried reprogramming it, repairing it, re wiring it and completely restarting the blue prints! Unfortunately, nothing came out successful. So he just sulked and put on his purple hoodie and escaped to his phone.

Mikey, being bored, was on his way to bother Donnie anyways. So he found him looking upset and decided to help out a little.

“Hey D! What’s got you down in the dumps?” Mikey asked looking around Donnie’s room for the root of the problem. Messing it up in the process.

“I’m not. “down in the dumps.”.” The purple ninja exclaimed with air quotes, his eyes never leaving the screen. He was looking for a better design to see if that would help as well, but Mikey sure wasn’t.

“Are you sure? You seem grumpy!” Mikey said with a poke to Donnie’s side.

“Nohot now Mikey.” Donnie stated trying to stifle his giggles. He was veryyyyy ticklish and his family (unfortunately) were veryyyyy aware of it. Yet Donnie still denies that he isn’t, his siblings end up proving him wrong.

His eyes never leaved his phone during this conversation yet he didn’t know what he was looking for anymore. Maybe just an excuse to be busy.

“Well then if you’re not grumpy I guess you won’t mind if I do this!” Mikey said skittering his fingers up the intellectual turtles neck and that earned him a few giggles.

“Yohou better stohop.” Donnie stated, trying to hold back laughter at this point.

“And you don’t mind me doing this either!” Mikey said, full on tickling Donnie at this point. He had went for his sides, neck, stomach and underarms in a quick motion.

“MihIHikey STOHOhop!!” The middle child exclaimed. The shocks tingling everywhere in his body.

Mikey finally stopped his tickle attack and gave. Donnie a hug.

“So are you still grumpy?” Mikey asked with his sweet younger sibling smile. It was definitely contagious. He was just happy to at least try to make Donnie happy.

Donnie’s phone had fallen at this point so there nothing he could really do. “No.” He responded with a smile.

A few hours later, Donnie decided to continue his journey with the trinket, after finding some inspiration that could modify the blueprints and possibly perform a breakthrough but guess what? It didn’t.

After a really long time in his room, Donnie finally “emerged” from his cave with a frown. He had been defeated. There was nothing else he could do. And he had to face that. But it’s not like him to give up on a project.

“Hey! Donatello!” Leo said putting his elbow on Donnie’s shoulder.

Donnie shot him a side glare. “Not. Now.”

“Uh oh. Donnie’s in a bad mood.” Raph said with a worried face and a pat to Donnie’s shoulder.

“Should we bring the ‘tickle gang?’” Leo asked, walking towards Donnie with menacing wiggling fingers.

“No. I don’t like being tickled.” Donnie responded, turning his back away from everyone. “I just wanna be sad for a moment.”

“Then why do you laugh when we tickle you?” Mikey asked with genuine question in his eyes.

“It’s a involuntary reaction our bodies produce from being slightly touched which causes-“ at this point Donnie was lost in his own world. He liked answering questions about the body and how it works, what it does and so on.

The remaining three brothers just watched as he rambled on and on and on and believed that this was their perfect time to strike.

They all came at the purple ninja with wiggling fingers and it just so happens Donnie opened his eyes to face them so he could explain more clearly.

“WAIT NO!”

“NOHOHO WAIT STOHOP!” Donnie exclaimed, laughter pouring out of his lips.

“IHIHI CANT BREHATHE!!-“ Donnie was then cut off by the sound of Leo’s voice

“we literally haven’t even touched you yet.” Leo said with a smirk.

“Oh. Wait, yet?” Donnie asked confused.

“Yet.”

just a lil sum i made in my free time💖

[nine-of-words]

No Vacancy (Part Four)

M Orc x M Merfolk Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 3291

Content Warnings: Brief Non-Graphic Depiction of Sex Work, Slit Fingering/Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Sexual Harassment

Did my best with the content warnings this time, but honestly not sure how I would even tag some of the stuff in this part? Regardless, we’re over the hump now for this story! Just two more parts to go :)

Inadequate. Pitiful. Embarrassing.

These are just some of the words that could describe this situation.

<I’m sorry, this has never been a problem before.> You sign to your client, frustrated. <It’s not your fault.>

<It’s okay, I’m sure this happens to everyone sometimes, right?> Your client signs to you in return, attempting to comfort you with a sheepish look.

In the couple of years you’ve been doing this - you have never had any trouble getting the job done before.

But now this-

You can’t even present the tool needed to complete the task. No matter what you do, your dick stubbornly won’t emerge from your genital vent. The thing might as well be welded shut.

It’s not like the client is unappealing to you, either. You find most mermaids attractive on some level - but it’s never had much to do with how they look, anyway. It’s just a job to you, a pleasant biological process that you exchange for extra gold every June and December.

Eventually, you both decide to give up. There’s no point in wasting any more of either of your time when it’s clear that nothing is going to happen.

You push the seaweed curtain to the side as you swim out of the mermaid’s private cove, still absolutely mortified.

It seems all you’re doing lately is fleeing awkward situations…

The client was nice enough to be graceful about your failure to do your job. Your boss, on the other hand, is not going to be so nice.

The next day when you arrive, Madame does indeed rip you a new one.

<What happened?> She signs, her ornately lacquered finger nails a bit more tense than normal from her clear irritation. 

<I don't know.> You sign in turn, movements trailing off into the next as you try to collect your thoughts better. <We just didn’t… click.>

In the back of your mind, you know exactly why you failed, even if you haven’t fully accepted it yourself yet.

<Unacceptable. This isn't a question of personal preference, you’re still expected to perform.> Her brightly lined eyes narrow at you, and her fins flare out in thought. <Your track record is spotless- aside from the cyclone this past summer- so this is rather surprising.>

<So, you already know I can do better.> You reassure her. If anything, you know how to market yourself. <It was just a fluke.>

<Are you sure? You can take a leave if the pressure is too much.>

Is she… actually showing concern?

&lt;;A permanent leave. Not everyone can handle this job, after all.> She continues, shattering any hope of relief. <I can have your lined up clients select someone else; I'm sure Uttar has other pretty faces with debt that he could lend me. Deadlines are deadlines.>

No, of course not. Of course it's only about metrics.

&lt;No! No. I need the gold.> 

<Well, if that's the case, I need your assignments done without issue. It will hurt the reputation of my business if you can't even manage that much.>

<Please give me another chance.> You're sick to your stomach that you're groveling like this to keep a job you don't even really want. You have too much self worth for the taste to go down smoothly. The extra pay is just too good to let go. <It won't happen again.>

<Make sure it doesn't.> She swims over to the cove wall where several rectangular planks of carved abalone and nacre are strung along a rope. She pulls off a blush pink plank with your next assignment's location painted on it off the line and then swims back over to hand it to you. <I would hate to lose a valuable asset because of incompetence.>

You swim out of there,  and out of the lobby so fast the receptionist probably only sees a blur of blue and purple.

You're absolutely seething. You're surprised the water isn't boiling around your face, with all the heat of the restrained anger gathered there.

It was difficult to resist the urge to quit on the spot. You wish you could…

But it pays so, so much better than your regular courier gigs, and it’s only two months of the year. 

So, you swallow your pride. It's all you can do.

After hours of high speed swimming and your anger has finally cooled off considerably, you start thinking about taking a break. 

Normally on this route, you’d book a room for an overnight rest when you caught up to Varuj’s ship, but…

You cringe even thinking about it now.

How could you even face him after what happened the last time? What would you even say?

Even with your mind fully occupied with self-scolding and self-loathing, your body has absent-mindedly navigated to follow his ship’s route. And sure enough, as soon as you’ve realized it, you spot a familiar keel in the distance.

You want to talk to him. You miss talking to him already. You just… have to actually say something…. 

But what?

Slowing from your rapid cruising speed, you pull up alongside the boat’s side. You barely break the surface enough to scan for a sign of him above deck in the crowd of people enjoying the clear weather. 

He's chatting to some of his passengers like he usually does, with an effortless charisma. Varuj may not be loud or bombastic or overtly attention grabbing, but he has such a warm personality that people tend to naturally gravitate to him. Even during your stays, he often ends up with a small group of tourists around him- he can turn anyone into a friend, it seems.

…Even people like Uttar, apparently. The thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

Varuj seems to be doing fine. Great, even. He's certainly at least behaving normally, which is more than what could be said for you.

Why is that, when you're this torn up? When it feels like your entire life has been shattered to pieces?

Things were going fine. He just had to suggest making things more… involved…

Being able to quit sounded so nice at face value, but he doesn't know the reason you're doing this. You'll never pay off your debt if you go back to normal, less shady courier work. 

Varuj did offer you work, but… who knows if that'd be enough, either.

More importantly, you don't want to be indebted to him like that, not anymore than you want to be to Uttar- or anyone else, for that matter.

What was he thinking, even suggesting that? Maybe he was just drunk…

You grimace and dip back underneath the white caps before you're spotted.

You can't deal with this right now. You don't want to know, if that's the case, anyway.

You eventually find a cove to rent for the night, but it's annoyingly far out of the way of your route back. You prefer staying on Varuj's ship on your work journeys because the vessel keeps making progress in the right direction while you rest… that's not the only reason, of course, but it's what you're lamenting the most as you mire yourself between the bunches of kelp, trying to get comfortable.

But no matter how you arrange yourself, you can't seem to find a position you feel at ease. Your body is still far too worked up from earlier, and craving the release it didn’t get.

Your mind wanders back to where you'd rather be; what you’d rather be doing and who you’d rather be doing it with, and your hands follow suit.

The soft edges of your vent are warm to the touch and throbbing lightly already, just remembering how it feels.

Really? Now? You mentally chide your body.

You lightly trace your opening the way Varuj usually does at the beginning of an encounter. The more you think about him, the more your muscles loosen up obediently, viscous natural lubricant starting to coat your fingers.

Where was this enthusiasm when I needed it earlier?

After barely any encouragement, your cock has already begun to emerge from the top portion of your slit from the sensation, stiff and craving the warm squeeze of his mouth and the smooth point of his tusks on your inner thighs.

Ugh… why did it have to be like this?

It makes sense, you guess.

It’s different with Varuj than with clients, anyway, to the point that you’d much rather it be him than a client. There’s a level of freedom there that you don’t get when it’s someone you’re assigned to please- at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

You had such a good thing going. It was… Easy. And now…

He just wants to tie you down, like everyone else.

And nothing good ever comes out of owing anyone anything.

At some point, the heady thoughts about his mouth on your cock has shifted into thoughts about his mouth on your own instead; a prospect that is equal parts exciting and confusing. You’ve never been so aroused by the thought of kissing someone, but here you are. Before him, you didn’t even think you were even all that interested in kissing. But remembering the sensation of warm, slick tongue muscle and the soft hum of affirmative grunting against your lips, you find that you’ve really come to crave it.

Tentatively, you start pressing into your lower slit and into your entrance, thinking of his girthy fingers being the ones pressing inside instead.

To your surprise and moreso chagrin, your fingers slip inside with almost insulting ease. Spurred on by lust, you slowly, firmly, press your fingers deeper inside.

You never expected things to end up like this. While you’ve always enjoyed Varuj’s company, you prefer your boundaries well defined, and he is far from your usual type. 

But you can't deny the effect fantasizing about him is having on you- No resistance, with each little wriggle of your fingers making your hips jerk against your hand. A stark difference from your failed attempts to do your job lately.

Unfortunately, lightly fingering yourself isn’t really satisfying you enough. You’re accustomed to more mass than even three of your fingers can achieve, and they can’t recreate the knobby texture ubiquitous of his orcish dick.

Chasing the memory of that feeling, your fingers move more emphatically on their own. They thrust deeper in, with more firm pressure behind your strokes until you feel the dizzying jolts of pleasure going straight behind your eyes.

You’re so worked up that it doesn't take much of that solid rhythm to push you over the edge. The edges of your vent contract around your fingers, clenching along with the pelvic muscles forcing cum out of you. Thick, vicious seed disperses into the water above you, suspended in the mild current as it slowly disappears.

Your gills pulse in silent panting. It felt good, but there's a deep pit of dread hollowing out your chest overshadowing the afterglow.

It’s as you suspected, as if you really needed to investigate it. Your dick definitely still works. Your body isn’t suddenly incapable of arousal- though it might be easier if that was the case - it’s a natural side effect that commonly happens to some merfolk.

It’s spawnlock.

Varuj is the only partner your body will accept now, whether in person or just the thought of him.

You know exactly what that means.

As much as you have been denying it and avoiding it and lying to yourself the feeling is there, and being expressed by your body regardless of your permission.

You love him.

And the feelings you’ve developed for him are now a physical obstacle for your work.

…This is bad.

You rub your face with a palm in frustration and exhaustion, swaying silently in the water for the rest of the night.

In the morning, you still continue to your next client’s location, though the tenseness in your shoulders makes swimming much less enjoyable.

This can still work. Maybe if you just… think about him hard enough, you can bypass the effect?

You spend the rest of your travel trying to psych yourself up and push through, to continue on like nothing has happened. You get all the way there and begin the session, stubbornly committing.

It does not work like you’d hoped. No matter what you try, it’s the same results as before.

…Unfortunately, your willpower isn’t strong enough to trick your body. Just thinking about him isn’t enough, not with the presence of another person and not him.

<What’s this? You fall in love on the way over here?> Your client signs, punctuating her thoughts by curling her fingers in manual laughter.

At least she’s amused. You don’t know if it’s worse or better this way; you suppose it’s better than her being angry, but you’re not sure how much more bruising your ego can take.

You apologize, accepting defeat much quick this time than the last, and leave the client’s dwelling in shame as fast as your fins can manage.

A cold hand of dread grips your chest as you exit the cove.

There’s no way around it. You can’t work this job anymore, and it’s your own fault.

You don’t even bother taking a rest this time, instead rushing through the swim to get back to Madame’s place. You’d rather just face the music and get it over with.

The trip is strangely serene. You expected to be panicking on what this means for how you can pay off your debt, but all you feel is a calm, empty resentment for your situation.

<You have a lot of nerve coming back here.> She points at you accusatorily as you enter. <You asked for a second chance and this is what you do with it?> 

You set the plank with the information about your last failed job on her desk.

<Look. I did my best. But->

She swipes her hand through the water, interrupting you.

<I don’t want excuses. Do you think I haven’t already received the message from the client?>

<I can explain.>

<There’s not much to explain.> Her expression is somewhere between scorn and pity. <You got yourself a little crush?>

<What makes you think that?>

<I've been doing this a long time.> She shakes her head in admonishment. <It’s not a past client, I hope? That never ends well.>

You don't respond. The fins on the sides of your head flutter through the water in simmering rage, the only movement you're making as you stare her down. Your hands don't need to do the speaking when your eyes are certainly already taking care of it.

<Your contract is void.> She signs pointedly, her glossy lips pulled into a tight, sanctimonious grimace as she seems to savor adding the last movements. <You're fired.>

<You don’t have to fire me - I quit!> You finally snap and sign the last word over and over for emphasis, letting the simmering frustration boil over. <Quit. Quit. Quit.>

You turn your back and storm out, your hands still repeatedly forming the decoupling shape of quit as you go- it’s petty, but you're going to have the last word. 

You want nothing more than to run- just swim off so far and so fast that you can leave all of this behind.

But what’s the point in trying? The tracking rune that was placed on you when you were saddled with the debt would only make it a matter of time until you were caught, anyway.

Swimming aimlessly calms you down eventually… You realize you’re following Varuj’s ship route, again. 

This time you force yourself to veer off, deciding to go to where Uttar’s ship would be right now. You don’t want to, but he’ll find out what happened sooner rather than later. He’ll at least have a courier job for you to pick up, most likely…

You feel detached from your body when you finally arrive. Every bone and scale on your body is telling you not to board the ship… but you do. You have to.

“Well, would ye look at that,” Uttar says, picking his teeth in a tarnished, ornate handmirror. “Favorite little fish ‘o mine is back early. But Spawn’s still goin’ for another week or so, aye?”

You know he already knows what happened. Once again, he just delights in yanking you around.

“That arrangement’s not working out anymore. This isn’t something I can keep doing.”

“Real shame that is. As I recall it, you don’t exactly have the luxury to be picky about what jobs ye choose to take.”

“It’s not a choice.” You clench your fists at your sides, trying to keep your voice even and unraised, determined to not let him feed off of any reaction. “I physically can’t do it. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“None a’my business? You are business-” You can basically smell the burning rubber from his speech grinding to a halt as the gears visibly work in his head.

Then, with the realization, he laughs boisterously. It’s a nasty, cruel laugh, meant to taunt you in and of itself. He drops the mirror and gets up from his seat, coming around the side of his desk to approach you.

“Oh, hoho, fishie’s gone an’ fallen in loooooove, ‘ave we?” He throws an arm around your shoulders in a clearly fake, over-acted chummy manner. You resist the urge to dig your teeth into his forearm and not let go. “Who’s the lucky lady? Or gent, more like?”

He’s playing dumb to make the end result more vicious. You know, because you’ve heard that tone before.

“Must be ol’ Rujie, huh? Seein’ as ye were at his little shindig the other day. Looked like ya saw a ghost when ya seen me there!”

“No.” You say, not convincing anyone. You hate that he’s even talking about him. 

“Me an’ him go way back, y’know?” Uttar continues, absolutely ignoring the fact that you attempted to deny it. “If I’m bein’ honest with ya, though? -Because y’know I have yer best interest at heart- the salty dog laid with each an’ every able bodied seaman he could get his mitts on. With ya here like this workin’? He’s probably got his mitts on some other man as we speak.”

“We’re not dating.” You say coldly, a deep disgust that he’s trying to smear Varuj’s character tying a knot in your stomach.

“Aye? Got ya all loved up and then cut ya loose?” His arm around your shoulder tightens. “Well, a pity, that; it limitin’ yer options an’ all. The merladies pay much better during Spawn times, as y’know. Landlubbers won’t pay quite as well; but their gold’s still gold. And you still have a debt to pay off.”

“Landlubbers…?” You repeat, the full realization of what he’s saying begins to sink in. “...Oh...”

“What, thought ya were off the hook?” He laughs another cutting acidic laugh, and moves his arm to swat you on the ass. “Ya might be locked up in front, but from where yer standin’, round back will still work fine.”

You’re unable to protest the crossed physical boundary, too shocked to even speak.

“Maybe yer gonna think twice about letting me knock some o’ that interest off, aye? For now, go ahead an’ deliver this parcel for me.” Uttar shoves one of the typical shady-looking wrapped packages you’re used to delivering into your open palms. “I’ll line up a new Madame from one of the pleasure boats to handle ye between runs. Ye’ll be back to work by time yer back, ain’t that nice?”

He keeps talking, but it’s just a verbal slurry at this point.

You swallow dryly, and your fingers slowly clench around the parcel in numb, wordless despair.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

[scarletwritesshit]

💄Robin x Argenti 💄 Angel of Beauty

Robin’s hands were trembling as she attempted to steady the makeup brush. She had performed on stage time and again, but the preparation process hadn’t become any easier, especially since now, it felt like Argenti was judging her every little move. The prized little bird of Penacony was struggling with what would be theoretically be a simple task for her. How shameful. Attempting to put her worries aside, Robin continued attempting to brace herself to apply the makeup.

Argenti gently placed his hand on her shoulder, careful as to not startle her into accidentally poking her eye out. She looked up at his fond smile, though still a bit nervous about how he perceives her uneasiness.

"Are you perhaps having some trouble, my dear?" Argenti asked.

"I-I’m fine. I’ve done this plenty times before." Robin said.

"That may be so, but you appear to be in great distress. I insist that you allow me to lend a helping hand."

"I’m good. Really."

Argenti grabbed her wrist with utmost care. Despite being a man of great strength clad in the finest, sturdiest armor, his hold on Robin was surprisingly gentle.

"You cannot afford to stress yourself out before the big show, now can you? Allow me, as I have experience myself in applying such cosmetics."

"You...do?"

Robin was shocked for a brief moment at the fact that he possessed such knowledge, though she wasn’t sure why. Just look at the man. It would be more surprising if he didn’t know such techniques.

"Why, of course I do! Upholding Idrila's standards of beauty means applying such skills myself, which is why I request of you to allow me to take over for once."

Robin sighed. "I suppose it would be nice to not worry for a change."

Argenti released her wrist and held out his palm. "Exactly! Allow me to grant you my assistance, though, I do have one small request to make in return."

"Which would be...?” Robin asked, putting the brush into the palm of his hand.

"That dress," Argenti said, pointing to a rose clad dress intended for one of the band members, "it’s aesthetic suits me perfectly, and I wish to try on such a thing for myself, however, I believe that it is a size bit too small for one of my size."

"A bit too small?" Robin said with a giggle, "It couldn’t even be adjusted as it is to fit you!"

"Which is why I request for you to keep an eye out for a garment similar that could fit my build. I am deeply in love with every minute detail of that dress, but I regret that I cannot try it for myself."

"Hmmm, well, I could pull a few strings behind the scenes, using the excuse of 'but he’s my boyfriend!' and all, but..."

"But what?"

"...It’s a matter of my brother not finding out. It’s bad enough he knows I’m dating someone, but if I so much as mention anything about who said boyfriend is, he would probably bring forth the rapture of Penacony."

Argenti began to sweat a little. "That would indeed, be a bit terrifying to witness, to say the very least."

"He means well, but he could show his concern for me a bit better instead of threatening to wipe out an entire planet..."

"With all due respect, Miss Robin, your brother is indeed a bit on the terrifying side."

"He’s not that bad."

"To you, anyways. Now, on a less...frightening note, how would you like me to apply your makeup?"

"Oh, right, that. Uh...some purple underneath my eyes with glitter arranged to resemble a night sky. And I need my lashes done too."

"Say no more, my love," Argenti said, not wasting a second of work.

The combined anxiety of her upcoming performance in addition to allowing Argenti take hold of her makeup routine had Robin on edge, yet she was put somewhat at ease knowing that she could allow her own nervous hands to rest. She watched in the mirror as Argenti applied the makeup exactly as she described it, perhaps even better than what she envisioned. A little touch of blue and glitter applied created the exact night sky style she was aiming for.

When he got to her eyelashes, however, she could feel herself begin to stress once more, but Argenti rested her head in his palm to steady her face. Arguably, that made her heart race more, as he gently lifting up her head and leaning in close to her to get a better look. It was a simple routine, yet something about Argenti being so close in this way heightened her anxiety, or perhaps it was the oddest tinge of anticipation. Despite her nerves proving to be a slight obstacle, he managed to treat her lashes with utmost care as she was trying her best to keep her cool for him.

After caring for both of her eyes, Argenti backed away and promptly returned all of Robin’s equipment to where it resided before.

"Satisfied?" he asked, gesturing to her reflection in the mirror.

"Satisfied? It’s better than I even imagined it!" Robin said.

"Now, now. I kindly ask of you to not tear up with joy, as it could smudge my handiwork."

"I-I know. It’s just so beautiful, I don’t even know how to properly express my gratitude."

"You need not say anything dear."

"At this point, I should make you my makeup artist from here on out. You do a far better job than I ever possibly could.”

"You flatter me, truly, though I do not believe that my skills are comparable to yours."

"Are you kidding me? It’s a far better job than what even my own staff is capable of!"

"Haha, if you say so. Now, I do believe you are due to appear on stage soon?"

"Ah! Right!" Robin said, jumping out of her chair. "I’ll look into getting that dress for you later!"

"Take as much time as you need, love. For now, my priority is seeing you shine from above, while I humbly gaze from below in the audience.”

[swordsmin]

⸺ ✧˖° Introducing the adventurer SEO MINHYUN, a passionate MOON ELF with a fondness of metal smithing and novels. Their admirers endlessly praise them for their skills as a imaginative BARD & their work as a GUILD MEMBER. On the contrary; their rivals will warn you of their tendency to be sensitive and stubborn.

hiya everyone! i'm eight ( any prns, 26, cst ) and i'm sooo excited to introduce you to my loser son, minhyun. i have some links down below for a lil more info, but there's also a quick intro under the cut. i'm cool with plotting via ims, but i do also have discord available upon request. anyways, tap the heart for me and i’ll take on the quest of raiding your ims for plotting. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀dossier⠀/⠀ memoir⠀/ ⠀appendix⠀/⠀ plots

key points.

[!!!] majority of minhyun's backstory is inspired by the lore on elves in mordenkainen's tome of foes. he's largely built behind the 100 years he's spent with his parents, as well as the memories of his past lives that he has seen during reverie.

both parents are former adventurers that decided to settle down in jeosung to raise 'byeol'. they're super cute.. childhood friends to lovers.. 2 for 1 combo all their lives.

his mother is an eloquence bard, she could convince you that the grass is blue and the sky is green. she works as a fortune teller (read as: scammer) and has an obsession with the stars. she taught minhyun how to play the lyre and be a menace charismatic, amongst other things.

his father on the other hand is more on the reserved side but still an absolute fool for his wife. he's a bladesinging wizard who taught minhyun everything he knows about sword fighting and smithing. he currently works as a blade smith.

in the first few years of life, whenever he would enter a trance to rest, he would see memories of past lives. one of the lives he would see is that of an adventurer — brave battles, near death moments, a life full of action and traveling. the other life he would see was a lot more mundane — time spent with a lover, a glimpse into a more domestic life.

minhyun's first century of life was fairly sheltered, his days were filled with various lessons on overall survival and navigating safely in this world. majority of the decisions in his life during this time were made by his parents as he was still considered a child.

as each year went by up until his 100th year of living, he would see the memories of his past lives less often, replaced with the new memories he's made in his current life. losing those memories really did a number to minhyun in the beginning, he had been so used to seeing them just to have them snatched away.

on his 100th birthday, he graduated from his child name byeol to his chosen name minhyun.

the first thing he decided to do in his adult life was join a traveling circus troupe. it was a free way to travel, learn new skills, and see new things. he eventually left after 8 years, his final act being at one of their stops back in jeosung.

to sum up the past 17 years that minhyun has been back in the city, he's been a bit more hobby-indulgent, though still sticking to his usual training. he's joined the adventurer's guild, and regularly takes up requests/contracts to keep the funds coming in so he can continue to enjoy his hobbies. overall, he's trying to find himself and the things he enjoys.

personality.

inquisitive.. he's so curious.. asks questions when he feels comfortable enough, good at reading the room when it comes to the annoyance level for him asking so much, though there are times where he'll keep asking to purposely annoy a person.

he can also be a bit nosy.. like he would 100% be one of those neighbors with their ear pressed against the wall while you're arguing with someone in your apartment.

a little bit mischievous (he gets it from his mom); again he can be a tiny bit of a menace when he feels like it, more uncontrolled when he considers you a friend.

passionate about the things he loves, he puts his all into his performances and the jewelry he crafts. not as passionate but more disciplined in keeping up with his training of controlling what memories he revisits during his trance, and his sword fighting.

overall, very friendly and loving.. he's got a big heart.. very.. puppy coded.. loyal boy... good boy...