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2goth2moth · 3 years

Note

Any sort of smut with a naga or feral mothman like creature please and thank you

Anon, you said "naga" and my lil scaly heart got so happy. I have no idea if this is even remotely in the realm of what you were looking for, but I just couldn't shake the idea of a human prince with a harem full of monsters. I hope you enjoy!

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The Prince's Favour (M!Naga x M!Reader, NSFW)

For reference: Enéas is a Brazilian rainbow boa. I was 100% going to have a blowjob scene in this but rainbow boas have backwards hooked teeth (think fishhooks) that are designed to not let things back out, and having that near your dick sounds like a very bad time.

Word count: 3514

Includes: Power dynamics (prince x concubine), non-human genitalia, rough sex, double penetration, a little bit of crying

Being the youngest prince in a kingdom with a still-living king could be overwhelmingly boring. Matters of state were passed to your parents and eldest sister, matters of security to your next oldest sibling, infrastructure and agriculture to the next oldest, twin brothers. Your bloodline was long and vital, which was very good for the kingdom’s longevity. It was not so good for keeping you occupied. Your role, as well as your youngest sister’s, ended up being almost completely performative, with official duties being limited to keeping up a royal education and looking pretty beside your family during public appearances. The whole arrangement left you with a lot of free time to eat and draw and lounge about.

And have sex.

It was normal for royalty to have lovers or harems, if they wanted to and their spouses were okay with it. You yourself had several lovers, all of whom you enjoyed and cared about deeply. One of whom was currently lounging invitingly on your bed as you did your best to capture his likeness in paint.

“Enéas, beloved, can you hold still for me?”

The naga groaned, the muscular coils of his body shifting slightly as he did. “I’ve been sitting for hours now. When you called me, I didn’t think it would be for this.”

“Ten minutes, then we can do something else. I swear.”

The look that he shot you was long-suffering, but he settled back into the purposefully relaxed position you had directed him into earlier after taking a sip from the goblet beside him.The whole thing was mostly an act. You had been summoning him to your chambers to sit for this painting on a regular basis for the past month, and no matter where the sessions ended (often with you wrapped firmly in his powerful body), you never put on any airs about what those first few hours would entail.

Golden sunlight shone through gauzy curtains and spilled onto Enéas’ skin, setting the scales ablaze. The round black marks that lay over red scales the colour of baked clay were already beautiful, but under the sun’s rays he was cast in a rainbow sheen, every scale shimmering like an oil slick. The creamy scales of his underbelly flowed from his face all the way down, flashing like pale moonlight between his darker coils. Naga rarely wore clothing, they had no real need to, but Enéas had certainly developed a taste for finery during his time in the palace. Fine, sheer cotton, dyed snowy white and rich yellow, draped around him like woven light, held in place by gold clasps. Cuffs set with precious stones circled on his wrists and biceps, and a beautiful metal collar engraved with intricate patterns lay flat against his throat.

“You’re staring, little prince.”

The rasping taunt broke you out of your stupor, and you realized that your eyes had been locked on him, paintbrush unmoving on your canvas. You finished the stroke you had started with a careful flick. Stepping back a little, you surveyed what you had done so far. The hours spent on the portrait had been worth it, and even though it wasn’t done, you could stand to be finished for the day.

“I was distracted,” you said. “You were distracting me.”

A cheeky grin split Enéas’s face. It was hard-edged and full of sharp, hooked teeth, stretching far past what it would have on a human face, but managed to be as lovely and charming as it was frightening. “I have no idea what you mean. I was only sitting here, just like you asked me to.”

“Sitting there in a very distracting way.” You wiped your hands on the sturdy apron you wore before untying it and discarding it messily to the side. “We’re done for today, you can relax now.”

“Finally.” He stretched his arms above his head and groaned loudly before flopping back and letting his eyes close. The movement sent his whole body rippling in the sunlight, and the sight made your mouth go dry.

You strode towards the bed, closing the distance quickly to sit beside Enéas on your plush bedspread. He didn’t even open his eyes when the mattress dipped under your weight. With a feather-light touch, you traced the features of his face with a thumb. The transition from red to white around what would be a hairline was first, the gradient of the small scales dipping low on his forehead and contouring under his eye sockets, the way it pulled back on his temples. The flat bridge of his nose, his sharp jaw, the mouth stretching almost the entire way along the hollows of his cheeks. He just barely leaned into every touch, doing a very good job of pretending like he didn’t care about you sitting next to him and touching him like he was something precious. Each one of his breaths fanned upwards, over your face, and it smelled like the sweet lime cordial he drank moments before.

Your thumb continued its path around his face until it caught on the center on his bottom lip. One of his eyes drifted open, pupil an inky slit on yellow-green sclera, and he parted his lips just enough for his long, forked tongue to flicker out. It wound around the digit, brushing against your knuckles and the sensitive skin between your fingers. Cold spit cooled even further on your skin as Enéas licked over your hand. In a single swift movement he dipped his head forward to take your thumb fully in his mouth. You froze. His lips tightened around it and he sucked, tongue still working you over. You could feel your cock start to fill and you pressed in and down, putting the slightest amount of pressure on the floor of Enéas’ mouth. A low, raspy moan rumbled through him, eyes fluttering closed and back arching prettily.

Putting more pressure on his mouth, you hooked your thumb behind the bone of his lower jaw and forced it down, exposing hooked teeth and making his tongue loll. “Get me ready, beloved, and be thorough.” You leaned down to press a sweet kiss to the edge of his scaly jaw. “I want both of them today.”

Enéas’s eyes snapped open. His pupils were blown wide in excitement and arousal, and he flickered his tongue out over your skin again before pulling you down next to him with firm hands. Those same hands didn’t hesitate to begin roaming over your body, making quick work of the fastenings keeping your tunic and trousers closed before pulling his own scant clothing off.

“It would be my pleasure, Your Highness,” he said. The sound was already breathless, and sounded so beautiful that it hurt.

He stripped you of your clothing with an impossible combination of speed and reverence, each touch against your skin burning with affection. Pushing you fully onto your back, he slithered around you, smooth scales dragging against your increasingly bare skin until you lay cradled in his strong coils. A heavy tail coaxed your legs apart as large hands began mapping a path down your body. They skimmed over your throat and chest, pausing to tease each of your nipples to full hardness, and drifted lower, caressing your waist and stomach, scratching soft patterns onto your hips and buttocks, before landing on your thighs. His cool, clever mouth soon followed. A sloppy, open-mouthed kiss landed above your pulse, then the base of your neck, trailing cold saliva over your shoulders and down your breastbone. You moaned quietly, unbidden, and your back arched up off the bed, eyes fluttering closed. Your world narrowed to sensation: the chill on your skin, the plush mattress underneath you, the smooth rasp of scales around you. Enéas’ hands lovingly massaging your thighs.

Your eyes shot open with a gasp when you felt his mouth close around one of your nipples. You could feel his smile against your skin as he suckled on the hardened nub. A little jolt went through you as those wicked teeth grazed over the delicate skin, your cock twitching where it now lay fully erect on your belly. One of his hands wandered up to play with the flushed head, dipping into the pre-cum pooling under it before raising his hand and licking his fingers clean.

Gripping his chin, you dragged his face up to meet yours. “I believe I told you to prepare me, Enéas.” The way you said his name managed to land somewhere between sweetly teasing and bitterly displeased. “We may be lovers, but I am still a prince. This may have been my mistake, though, maybe I wasn’t clear enough for you.” You pulled him up further, tucking your mouth beside his ear so that you could whisper directly to him. “Prepare me, my love, and do it nice and thorough. After you’re done, you will fuck me, with both cocks, until I can’t speak or until you fill me with your cum. Whichever comes later. Am I understood?”

Enéas smiled, pupils completely dilated, and dipped his head down to kiss you. It was salty and bitter from your pre-cum, with the barest hint of the lime cordial underneath. “As you wish, my prince.”

He sat back and lowered himself so that he was lying on his front between your legs. The coil of his body that had been pressing one of your legs open dug in harder, pulling your thigh even further out, and he threw your other leg over his shoulder to get better access between your cheeks. His big hands dug in and pulled them apart, exposing your tight hole to the air of the room. He breathed over it, pressing wet, biting kisses onto the supple flesh of your ass before slipping his tongue out and running it all the way from your hole to your balls. The long, slender fork in the muscle wrapped around you, almost delicately, spreading cold saliva over your balls and the base of your shaft. The chill was a brief shock against your skin that sent sparks zipping through you, making you drop your head back onto the mattress and forcing your breaths out in stuttering pants.

Enéas continued alternating between licking at your rim, just barely breaching the ring of muscle with the tips of his tongue, and suckling gently at your sac, each motion drawing desperate little noises out of you. It felt wonderful, but it was nowhere near enough. Somewhere in your mind you had a brief argument with yourself about whether it would be worth it to abandon all semblance of power and control that you had in order to grind your hips back on his face. On one hand, you were royalty, even splayed naked on your bed, and you liked to hold onto that for as long as you could. On the other, the feeling of his cool scales and wet, fluttering tongue was very rapidly driving that particular thing down your list of concerns.

All of that was wiped from your mind when you felt the blunt tip of one of Enéas’ fingers, slicked with oil from a vial he must have hidden somewhere on him when he started moving. It circled your hole slowly, deliberately, pressing just inside every so often, coaxing the muscle to loosen with practiced care. You wanted to squirm, to tense up under the teasing touches, but you forced yourself to breathe through it and relax as much as possible. This earned you a raspy noise of approval and a kiss to your sensitive inner thigh from your naga lover.

Seconds later, it also earned you one of his gloriously thick fingers carefully worked all the way inside you. Your back curved off the bed, a quiet moan spilling from your lips. He pumped it in and out a few times, just starting to open you up enough for him to continue. As soon as you relaxed, unconscious fists unclenching from the bedspread, a second finger, thick and wet with oil, joined the first. He twisted the two about inside you. Each motion dragged the subtle ridges of his scales along your inner walls, and when he crooked his knuckles deep inside you, you arched up with a breathless moan.

“Ohhhh, fuck.”

Enéas’ head emerged from between your legs, and he smirked at you as he began scissoring his fingers, stretching your rim, brushing up against the spot of blinding pleasure on every thrust. “Well, Your Royal Highness? Am I pleasing you now?”

“You would be pleasing me more if you got on with it,” you snarked at him. He grinned back at you, the tremor in your voice and the way that your whole body had begun quivering betrayed your pleasure too much for him to ever believe that you were honestly upset.

“As my prince wishes.”

He raised himself so that he was braced overtop of you, and he rubbed the head of his upper dick over your entrance. You hadn’t even noticed him teasing his cocks erect and out of the slit that usually kept them hidden, but it wouldn’t surprise you if that was what he had been doing with his other hand while prepping you. A sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth was the only warning you got before he pushed into you with near-maddening gentleness. His cocks were more slender than the average human’s, but they were longer, and were covered with nubby barbs of flexible cartilage that caught deliciously inside you whenever he pulled back. He started rocking his hips into yours, getting deeper and deeper with each stroke, dick not close to filling you up but the barbs stimulating you plenty all on their own. You moaned slightly each time he drew back, cock leaking even more pre-cum between your bodies. Waiting until he was fully seated inside you, body flush against your ass, he began gently massaging your hole, the muscle already stretched tight around him. He moved his fingers in sync with his shallow thrusts, slowly but surely opening your hole enough for him to slip his second cock inside.

You were moaning even more loudly now, shuddering noises of pleasure leaving your lips every time Enéas fucked into you or pressed in on your entrance. His finger disappeared from your skin briefly after a particularly rough thrust left you panting and teary-eyed. You whined at the loss, wriggling further back on his dick. Another rough drive of his hips sent your back arching painfully, mouth dropping open as his index finger slipped into you alongside his shaft.

“Nngg, ah-- fuck, so-oo good,” you mewled.

Enéas started fucking into you with even more ferocity, making your whole body move every single time his hips slammed into your ass. Your cock slapped up onto your stomach with an obscenely wet sound, and left wet smears of clear fluid on your skin each time it hit you. The sounds coming out of you were starting to sound desperate, morphing from regular moans of pleasure to pitiful little whimpers and gasps. You were so overwhelmed by the way that his cock reached so deep inside you and caught so gloriously coming back out that you didn’t even notice a second fingertip tease your rim. You didn’t notice it until the smoothly scaled digit thrust into you alongside his first one. The feeling of it, the stretch of your rim definitely painful now, ripped a shattered cry from you.

Your whole body was tensed up, chest heaving with panting breaths. “Oh shit. Enéas, I’m going to…”

The hand he had been using to hold himself above you darted downwards and locked in a tight ring around the base of your steadily leaking cock. The crescendo quickly building in the pit of your stomach was stopped in its tracks, and you wailed at the blocking of your orgasm. Enéas smirked wickedly at you before lowering his mouth to graze lightly over one of your nipples.

“Patience, little prince,” he chided, “Just hold on a little longer, and you can cum on both of my cocks.”

Each word he spoke was punctuated by him driving his barbed shaft into you and scissoring his fingers wider and wider. Somewhere in the haze of your almost-climax he had stuck a third finger into your hole, and all of them were now stretching you out as far as you could go. His big arms wrapped around your back and he aggressively hoisted you upwards, forcing you to wrap your legs around his body. He slipped his fingers out of you, and almost immediately his lower cock replaced it. The shaft was thicker, the head a little more bulbous, and it filled you up so wonderfully next to his other one. Once he was fully seated, he went still to let you get used to the intense stretch inside of you. You tried to wriggle about in his arm to get him even deeper inside of you, but he used both arms to grip you tight to his body, keeping you still. That mouth of his kept lovingly licking over your chest, going slack to let saliva leak out over his lips and onto your skin.

With a firm grip on your hips and an almost painful amount of care, Enéas lifted you up until only the heads of his dicks remained inside of you. Realizing what he was about to do, you stopped writhing in his grasp, relaxing as much as the position allowed. He hissed a thanks into the thin skin above your breastbone. A slight shift of his weight so that all of his coils lay firmly beneath him, and he lowered you almost all the way down onto him. He pressed sweet kisses to the base of your sternum, then each of your nipples, then to the side of your throat. Settling his face into the warm crook of your neck, he began to raise and lower your along his shafts, using your body to fuck himself to completion.

This new position made his cocks reach impossibly deeper inside of you, spines rubbing against that sweet spot with each stroke. You dropped your head forward against Enéas’ shoulder, moaning loudly. With his previous fierce grip on your tortured cock gone, you felt your orgasm begin to build again. Clear pre-cum dripped out of your slick head and smeared between your bodies. He kept bouncing you on him, breath coming out ragged against your neck as he chased after his own climax.

“Holy shit-- that’s so good…”

Your mouth hung open as heat bubbled up in your gut. You tried to warn Enéas again, but all that came out was a strangled gasp of his name before you were cumming between your bodies with a cry. His sharp mouth curved into a grin pressed into the skin of your shoulder as you went boneless in his arms. He kept driving your body down onto himself mercilessly, paying no mind to your limp form. Your eyes filled with tears and drool leaked from your slackened jaw as you were driven to complete overstimulation from him using your body.

“Mmmmhh-hngg....AH!” You moaned desperately, squirming in his arms, trying to get away from the feeling of his cocks inside you that was quickly starting to get painful. Your hole was fluttering erratically around him, and the grip that Enéas had on your hips stuttered, betraying how close he was.

“My prince, I’m…” he managed to grunt out before he pulled you all the way onto his cocks and came inside of you, clutching your body close to his.

His twin dicks twitched against your sensitive walls as thick white cum spilled inside of you. You wailed at the sensation, your own spent cock trying fruitlessly to twitch erect again. Enéas held you against him for several minutes, catching his breath, before he carefully lifted you off of him and laid you down on the now-soiled sheets. The spines on his shafts caught on your puffy rim as he pulled out, making you wince. Your belly was still sticky from your own orgasm, and gobs of Enéas’s cum leaked from your hole, making you feel even filthier. You were completely and utterly fucked-out and content as you lay there in a warm stupor. Cold lips kissed away tears that you hadn’t noticed had fallen, and a hand rubbed comforting circles into the back of your neck. He shifted his body to wrap around you in heavy coils that felt safe and warm, despite his cold blood. You stayed there, cradled against his familiar body, being covered in soft kisses and soothing caresses, until the shaky aftershocks of both of your climaxes dissipated. Once they had, you curled onto your side so that you could nuzzle your face into his scaly neck,

“So?” Enéas whispered into your ear, peppering the side of your face with affectionate pecks. “Did I please you, my prince?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, nibbling on his jaw slightly. “You absolutely did, beloved.”

#monster fucker #monster lover #exophilia #terato #monster x human #naga #tw crying #smut #nsft #minors do not interact #terfs dont fucking touch #seriously if i see a fucking terf i'll fight you #bigots dni

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toloveawarlord · 3 years

Text

Event: Edgar Birthday Countdown

Pairing: Iris x Edgar

A/N: plumpblueberry requested this from the Touches Event that is still open! I thought it worked well for a sweet fic for Edgar! Yes, I know his birthday has long passed but I’m finishing these fics dammit.

“Everyone, please keep moving inward! Down to the designated disaster rooms!”

Central Quarter had spiraled into chaos as the worst storm Cradle had witnessed in years barreled into the plaza. Both armies were surprised by the severity. The storm whisked in from the sea, giving little time for preparation to safely get citizens inside. Violent winds howled through the streets, its battle cry a prelude to its tantrum, thrashing all that was in its path.

Iris used her entire body to hold one door open against the brutal wind. “Edgar, that’s enough. Get inside, both of you!” Her call fell on deaf ears. The Jack struggled with the elderly vendor to secure his stall closed in hopes of protecting the precious contents. Blue irises surveyed the near empty plaza. Only a few soldiers remained, shuffling the last of the citizens indoors.

“Ma’am! There are some unsatisfied with our orders to remain inside instead of patrolling for stragglers.” One of her own approached, a little meek but his gaze shifted to the huddle of Black Army soldiers eyeing her with irritation. The same group she’d reprimanded not so long ago for questioning her orders.

“No. I’ve already dismissed that misguided action. What good will you be to Cradle if you end up injured along with them? Shelter in place until the storm has lessened, that way we can be of use to those who are injured or trapped.” Her words echoed across the lobby with force. The unforgiving storm would make a wannabe hero into a victim. “Instead of standing around like a bunch of gossiping socialites, get those people into the designated shelter rooms.”

With a disgusted expression, the young soldier said, “All due respect, Ten of Hearts,” her title dripping with derision from his tongue, “The personal with the spare keys for the second sub-floor rooms never arrived. They’re locked.” As if that fact made him the superior in the situation.

“Break the damn thing open? Or do you need me to teach you how to do that as well?”

The soldier beside her snickered at the Black Army’s soldiers' crumpled expressions. “I’ll see it done, ma’am.” He saluted, lips still pulling into an amused grin. He’d been assigned to her unit not long ago but had found it to be to his liking.

Her attention returned to her superior. The wind whipped through his brown locks. Edgar tugged the rope hard, fighting the flapping doors closed and securing them with expertise. Only a few drops hit the pavement before sheets of rain poured from the dark clouds. It’s roar joining that of the wind. But she caught a broken cry.

Iris thought she may have imagined it, but she couldn’t go in without a quick survey of the area.

Vision was incredibly low as she ignored her own orders in search of what she thought to be a lost child. They must be close if she could hear it over the storm. Her surroundings lit up with a streak of crystal lightning, and the thunder that followed shook the ground beneath her feet. The storm showed its strength, challenging the earth to stand against it.

Iris rounded the corner of the civic center, uniform utterly soaked. Blue irises squinted, lashes dripping with the water, hazing her vision. “Is anyone-”

Another rattling boom brought a shriek with it. The woman crouched down, peering into a patch of bushes by the side of the building. Deep within, she found a boy no older than five cowering within, clutching a plush toy as his lifeline. “You can come out now. I’ll get you inside.” She offered her hand, chilled rain pelting against her skin.

Pop. Pop.

“Mama says I’m not supposed to go with strangers.”

“That’s very good advice, but I’m sure your mama also told you that you can trust army soldiers, isn’t that right?” She tugged at her soaked white uniform. “I’m Iris, the Ten of Hearts. So come on out-”

His little head shook, nose crinkling. “The Red Army doesn’t allow women to join them. You’re a liar.”

Iris began to remember why she had a dislike for children. They were mouthy, and fickle. They didn’t listen, even when in imminent danger. Her knees sank into the muddy grass as she leaned forward to attempt to grab him. “That’s an old rule. King Lancelot made some recent changes. We have to get inside, come out from there!”

Her fingers grazed his tiny arm, almost reaching him.

“Iris!”

CRACK.

A body tackled against hers with enough force to knock the wind out of her. It was a blur. The world disappeared for a moment, leaving her disoriented. Blinking slowly, she found herself pressed against the ground, leaves of the now uprooted tree tickling against her cheek. The large branch that the smaller one nearly broke off rested against the back of her superior, who’d shielded her from being hit.

“Edgar?” She struggled to move any part of her body, pinned beneath his body. Even though the brunt had been borne by the Jack of Hearts, she could feel herself aching already.

Edgar groaned, shifting his weight to allow her space to slip out. “Thank goodness I made it.” He coughed, blood droplets splattering onto the muddy ground. He peeled himself up, staggering but able to stand. He tested his limbs, nothing seemed to be broken. They were lucky to have only been impacted by that one branch.

She resisted every urge within to check his wounds. Turning back to the bushes, also missed by the uprooted tree, Iris sighed with relief. “Will you come inside with us now?”

The boy had no issue trusting her after the fright he’d been given. The two returned the boy to his grateful mother before going to the infirmary on the main floor at Iris’s request. A locked door gave them absolute privacy. Nothing quite so nefarious or naughty as Edgar might have usually teased. Their uniforms unwearable, lest they wish to catch a cold.

“Sit down, and stop staring at me,” Iris chastised, clad in only her wet undergarments. She scanned the shelves for what she'd need to treat him. Perhaps it would be advantageous to learn a little more first aid.

"I'm positive I can wait until the storm passes." Edgar leaned against the arm of the couch.

Iris signed, hearing what he was insinuating. Of her many areas of expertise, first aid was not one of them. "Do you not trust me?" The question not a serious one. She conceded and abandoned the shelf to return to the warm fire.

Edgar winced, but reached out to grab her, tugging her into his arms. "It's cute when you pout.” His signature grin only graced his lips for a fleeting moment, crumbling into a frown. His cold fingers brushed her warm cheek, careful not to touch the wound lest he hurt her. "You've been hurt."

"It's a scratch. You're the one who got crushed by a tree branch. Probably a broken rib or two." The bruises already forming on his muscular abdomen. She should wrap them but lacked the knowledge to do so. “You’re an idiot.”

“I love you too, Iris.” His features still expressed concern. If he’d been a little faster, if he’d done more to protect her, then she wouldn’t be injured at all. Jade irises focused on the cut, as if he could will the wound to close.

Despite his grunt of pain, he was delighted the moment her lips met his. He pulled her in closer with a gentle jerk, catching her off guard. The two fell back onto the soft cushions of the couch. It was so adorable how hard she tried to hide her feelings.

“Are you trying to hurt yourself further?” Iris couldn’t break free of his hold. Her body weight had to be hurting him. It was irritating that he tended to do as he pleased at all times, but it always made her heart flip in her chest. Besides, who could resist that sweet smile?

“No, I do believe I’m distracting myself from the pain. The only real medicine is touching you.”

Silver tongue.

As if to prove his point, Edgar gingerly traced his fingers up and down her spine, humming to himself. He never tired of feeling her soft skin beneath the pads of his fingertips. She had incredible fighting skill, amazing strength, and yet, she remained oh so soft.

“You’re so unreasonable. We’re on duty.”

“Ah, but I’m not the one thinking naughty thoughts.”

Iris shook her head, smacking her hand against his shoulder as punishment, receiving a grunt from him. “I’ll go check on the soldiers upstairs then-” He was always thinking indecent things.

But Edgar tutted at her, managing to catch her again before she’d completely escaped. It didn’t feel so great moving so quickly, but it was nothing compared to what he’d feel if she left him right now. “Who said you could leave me? I’m injured, remember?”

He sounded much like a wounded puppy begging for its owner to pay attention to it.

“I guess I can stay a little longer.” Iris caved, her back flush against his chest. The fire did warm her cold body, and she did have a weak spot for this puppy side of him, especially with the way he snuggled against her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Edgar gave her a little squeeze, absently tracing patterns over her stomach. He’d love nothing more than to wind her up, excite her, but the pain did inhibit his ability to do so. Instead, the Jack of Hearts was content simply holding her in his arms while they waited out the storm.

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #edgar bright #iris adley #edgar birthday countdown

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mnictasbcl · 3 years

Text

First Day Out

For #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

June 3rd: First Vacation @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Rating: Teen

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson

Relationships: Connor & Hank Anderson

Additional Tags: Vacation, Fluff, Found Family, Plushies

Summary: Hank takes Connor on his first vacation.

(Hint: it’s to do with fish)

Story below! Or, read it on AO3

When Hank suggested some time away from work, Connor was confused. Particularly at the notion of having a ‘well-earned break’.

“I enjoy working.” He replied with a tilt of his head. “The cases lately have been satisfying, if somewhat difficult.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “I know you do. But that’s no reason to say you shouldn’t have a break. Ever since the Revolution, you haven’t stopped working.”

“Crime has been particularly busy in Detroit.” Connor answered. Of course, he wasn’t going to admit that he wasn’t… well, wasn’t too sure of what to do with himself if he stopped working. Whilst he was a deviant, that didn’t mean he automatically picked up every aspect of being human. His whole life has consisted of missions to complete. “Fowler—”

“Will give you a break, or I’ll make him. Give us a break. There’s tons more cops in the DPD who can pick up our cases for a week or so.”

Connor thought it over. “A break would be… a nice change from working. But what exactly would we do?”

Hank shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe take a vacation. Go someplace. You know what—what about this be your first vacation away? You choose where we go.”

“I’ve never been on a vacation before. I wouldn’t know where to pick.”

“Think it over.” Hank waved his hand dismissively. “You don’t have to decide now. Just… think of things you like, and we’ll work from there.”

_______________

Nothing else was said on the subject of a break for another few days. When it reached the weekend, however, Hank brought it up again, pulling Connor aside from menial tasks around his house and sitting him down with a sheet of paper and a pen.

“So, did you get some ideas?”

Connor blinked, LED whirring as he tried to bring up the list he’d been working on during rest breaks at work.

“I have a few.”

Hank nodded eagerly, patting the paper in front of him. “Go on then, son.”

Connor took a few moments writing down his thoughts in perfect Cyberlife sans. The list was rather short, since whilst he had varying interests, many, like ‘Hank’ and ‘Sumo’ didn’t seem applicable for vacation ideas.

“Alright…” Hank took the list from him when he was finished, looking it over. “Dogs… Fish… Investigation...” He threw Connor a look. “Are you kidding me? No way to that last one. We can’t go back to work as a vacation. Fuckin’ android.” He said the last curse with some affection in his tone.

“Well, for dogs, Sumo looks pretty offended.” The dog in questioned whined. “I also don’t have a clue how that could turn into a vacation other than spoiling him more than you already do… Fish, however,” he scratched his chin, “I think I have something.”

Connor blinked. “…yes, Lieutenant?” When the man didn’t answer, he added, “Hank.”

“It’s a surprise.”

The android frowned. “I’ll be able to tell where our destination is on the journey there—”

Hank groaned. “Well, turn off your GPS thingy when we drive there. I know you’ll love this place.

_______________

The next week at work passed surprisingly quickly. Connor would’ve thought that the curiosity of an unknown in his future would have driven him to distraction, but work was busy as ever. Knowing they were going on break the next week, Fowler seemed to be giving them extra cases, as if to make up for the lost time.

But then, it was over. Sunday morning, and Hank had packed a couple of bags, stuffing them into the car. Sumo was staying over with a neighbour that they trusted, despite the fuss the Saint Bernard had put up about being left behind.

“It will only be a week, Sumo.” Connor had told the dog, hugging him one last time. “Hank says that the place we are going to doesn’t allow dogs.”

Connor himself hadn’t been too impressed to leave their canine companion behind but understood it would be less stressful not to have to worry about leaving the dog in a hotel all day for the week instead.

The car journey was fairly long, but his coins, music, and chatter with Hank managed to fill up the space, and before he knew it, they had arrived at their hotel to drop off the bags.

Connor’s wasn’t too full, as he didn’t think he needed too many changes of clothes (not to mention his wardrobe was still quite sparse). As they made their way back in the car to get to the ‘secret location’, he was wearing his favourite outfit so far: a loose-fitting shirt, some jeans, and Hank’s old DPD hoodie.

Hank had promised that the rest of the week would be spent travelling around various tourist attractions and relaxing, but that their destination today was what he’d promised Connor. Since the next week would involve more people travelling back into the cities after the Revolution, that meant today was the last day things would be less busy, and therefore the optimal day to have fun.

Connor was sat in the back of the car so he ‘wouldn’t peek and ruin the surprise’. Whilst he found the notion of keeping a secret strange, he went along with it, seeing Hank’s excitement over everything and not wanting to ruin it. Besides, the suspense was… invigorating, he supposed.

It was something to do with fish, he knew that much. Connor just hoped they weren’t going to a sushi bar. That definitely wasn’t what he had in mind.

The car juddered to a stop, breaking him out of his thoughts. He waited until Hank had gotten out of the car and pulled open his door before looking up, getting out of his seat. Connor glanced to Hank, seeing the excitement sparking in his eyes, before looking up at where they’d arrived.

An Aquarium.

He smiled. “Thank you, Hank,” he replied, already beginning to mirror the excitement of the other man. He couldn’t help it; he loved fish. Ever since he’d saved the one on his first mission, they held a special place in his heart.

Hank was left hurrying to catch up as Connor made his way quickly into the building. They made quick work of paying for their entrance, and then he was bounding through the doors and up to the nearest display.

Tall glass columns stood in the first, central room, each one with glistening blue waters and fish swimming around in them. Connor stood a respectful distance away from the glass, skin reflecting the bright colours as he stared at the creatures.

Hank came up beside him and smiled when the android began to rattle off the different names of the fish in front of him. Some, he even scanned to give a little backstory on how they’d got to the Aquarium.

It wasn’t long before Connor spotted the next area, running down the hallway and seeing the whole curved ceiling was looking up into the water with fish swimming over the top of them. He grinned upon seeing a large fish overhead, white belly completely on display, and pointed it out to Hank.

Making his way down the hallway, the android then noticed a large wall of fish.

“Look, Hank—it’s a clownfish.”

“Looks like you.” The man replied.

Connor tilted his head. “I’m not orange, Hank.”

“But you are a clown.”

Connor sighed, shaking his head. “The clown fish bears no resemblance to clowns. The Amphiprioninae actually…”

He continued on, looking over at the tank, eyes tracking the movements of the graceful fish, flitting to and fro behind the glass. So immersed was he, that he didn’t notice Hank taking out his phone, snapping a picture of him.

“Glad you’re having fun, Connor.”

_______________

They stopped briefly for a late lunch in the Aquarium’s café. Luckily, it was one of the first places to make accommodations for androids (something Hank had made sure to look up in advance) and thus they didn’t only serve human food, but thirium-based drinks for androids as well.

Connor had been expecting a simple thirium pouch, but the menu was extensive. He decided to try the ‘throsty thirium shake’, despite the (albeit whimsical) error in spelling.

Hank was content with a burger. With salad, of course. Connor gasped in surprise as they delivered his drink to him, seeing how they’d utilised ice and small amounts of water to do up his drink. It was placed in a glass with fish patterns creeping around the sides of it, with a little bendy straw.

“This is… interesting.”

When he attempted to drink it through the bendy straw, he noticed this time when Hank tried to snap a picture of him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He questioned, placing the drink back down, attempting to intimidate but failing with the slight blue stain on his lips.

Hank laughed. “Priceless. Don’t mind me, Connor, I’m just getting a picture of your thirsty thrum—”

“Throsty thirium.” He corrected.

Hank only laughed more.

_______________

The rest of the dwindling afternoon was spent travelling around the Aquarium, spotting the different kinds of fishes. When they were all fished-out, Hank made to leave before spotting the gift store.

“Why the hell not.” He shrugged, motioning for Connor to follow him inside. “I could do with a cheesy mug to show off at work.”

Whilst Hank meandered around in search of said mug, Connor contented himself with looking over the fish-themed objects. He chuckled to see the creative things in store, looking from turtle-shaped handbags to Koi earrings.

Before he realised it, he’d found himself in the plushes section. Oh well, they were rather cute. He looked over each one, scanning them to work out what species they were mimicking.

And then, he saw it. A rather quaint little plush, sitting on the middle shelf. It was a Dwarf gourami, with white and orange scales, incredibly similar to the one he’d saved on his first mission.

It wouldn’t hurt to pick it up, he supposed, running his hands over the fabric. It was rather soft, and they’d done the scales in such a way that they felt separate and smooth, overlapping each other.

“Connor?”

He jumped at the sound of Hank’s voice, turning around to look at the Lieutenant, whose gaze travelled down to the fish in his hands.

“I was just about to check out this mug—” he motioned with the mug in his hands, a quick scan showing the text to read ‘You can tune a guitar, but you can’t tuna fish. Unless you play bass.’ “—you want me to get that as well?”

Connor blushed, shaking his head. “No, of course not—I was just… browsing.” Despite his words, he didn’t let go of the fish.

Hank chuckled. “Look, kid, I don’t mind getting it for you. Won’t tell anyone at the station. Promise.”

He glanced down at it, hands running over the scales, the texture pleasing. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt. But—no, he couldn’t ask that of the Lieutenant. He didn’t yet have his own source of income, what with android rights and laws still underway.

In the time he’d been deep in thought over it, Hank had made his way over to him. He glanced at the prices on the wall, and nodded, holding out his hand. “It’s only $4. Really, I don’t mind. It is your vacation; my treat.”

Connor smiled. “Thank you, Hank.”

And so, nothing more was said on the matter. Hank handed the fish in a little bag back to Connor once they were back in the car, making no mention when he took it back out of said bag immediately.

He was glad to see Connor was starting to get things of his own, finally, and even more happy to see the android smiling after their day out.

“So, what are you going to name it?”

“Him.” Connor corrected, before looking down at the fish. His mind flashed back briefly to the Dwarf gourami from his mission, the scan showing up its details, before he placed it carefully back in the water.

“And… Dewey.” He decided with a nod. “Like the fish I saved.”

Hank nodded. “Nice name. Very… fish-y.”

Connor smirked. He held a little tighter to Dewey, eyes feeling a little heavy. Androids didn’t get tired, but deviants had the equivalent of it. It had been a busy few weeks at work, and a fun but tiring day at the Aquarium. Before he knew it, he’d drifted off into stasis.

Hank noticed but didn’t stop to snap a picture of the sweet scene this time. Instead, he smiled, and continued driving. He’d always have this memory, and he’d cherish it. Their first vacation had been perfect.

#dbhcolorsofdeviancy #dbh #detroit become human #fanfic #dbh fanfic #dbh connor #dbh hank #dbh connor and hank

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appledew · 4 years

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It's been such a long time since I've made a personal project completely from scratch. For the past 3 years, I've been wanting to reduce my fabric stash but wanted to avoid selling it all off. Last year. I was determined to make some sort of projects to help eat away at the stash, but with little to no time, I figured the best route would be simple little plushies that can be completed mostly in my embroidery machine. I started doodling and pushing out concept art but still had no time. February of this year, I sat down late one night taking one of my ideas for a simple bear plush and made my first prototype: the little lavender colored bear in the last slide. I LOVED the idea and ran with it... for two days before I was swamped with other projects. In June I revisited the pattern and made small edits and made the little pink one... and forgot about the project completely. Over the last two weeks, over "quiet time" I made major edits to get the pattern the way I wanted. And I'm over the moon. 😊 I don't know what direction I want to take these little ones, but using up fabrics and supplies that have been sitting for almost 7 years (some a few years newer) is so refreshing. 💕💕💕 I had a good chuckle at the little frog, because it looks so much like Lily from AC, the lily pad hat doesn't help! 😂 I really dont want to take commissions on these, but if there is interest, I'll just make them over my free time and sell them as FC;FS. Again, I dont know what direction I want to go, so it's all up in the air. More critters coming soon! #customplush #customplushie #plush #plushie #plushiesofinstagram #handmade #handmadeplush #handmadeplushie #handmadeplushies #cute #kawaii #chibi #artdoll #handmadeartdoll https://www.instagram.com/p/CFgTuyOpW4K/?igshid=1tbxo44cc8cei

#customplush #customplushie #plush #plushie #plushiesofinstagram #handmade #handmadeplush #handmadeplushie #handmadeplushies #cute #kawaii #chibi #artdoll #handmadeartdoll

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dreamcatcherfication · 4 years

Text

The Queens of London Part 6 - What Am I To Do With My Life?

Man, I wrote this at like... 1 AM and it shows, it really shows.

Hello everyone, welcome back! I know it’s been a while (2 weeks!) since I’ve posted another chapter for this fic, but I got really busy with a bunch of other stuff, so it kept getting pushed back. I know you guys are used to getting pampered with new fics coming out everyday, but I still have a lot of stuff to balance, and sometimes my longer fics get put on hold as I get things back on track. But not to worry, we’re here now, and I’m not abandoning this fic! I didn’t get to edit this chapter, so I’m going to post it unedited and I’ll go back through and edit it later today when I have time. I hope you enjoy this part and that it suffices for a 1 AM keyboard smash. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, my body is on fire and yes that can be interpreted figuratively or literally.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Depression, feelings of worthlessness, self destructive thoughts

Kat was sitting on her couch, legs curled up to her chest and a cup of hot chocolate in her hand. She was in her pajamas and her hair was a complete mess. Kat’s guitar was leaning against the wall, it’s chords unused and forgotten. After her failure with the queens, it had been impossible for Kat to find it in herself to get up and street perform during the day. She couldn’t go out and watch Jane walk by. She couldn’t perform knowing that she had let down the people who had been depending so heavily on her.

It should’ve been obvious to her this whole time. Kat knew from the start she wasn’t a queen, nor was she a lady. She was in way over her head, that much had always been clear. But after the party at Henry’s house, it was practically spelled out in glittering letters for Kat. She didn’t belong. Never had, never would. Plain and simple. So why should she try?

The depressive haze had taken over Kat’s body as she sat in a ball on the couch, her eyes blankly staring at the wall. She didn’t have a television, so all she could look at was the moldy walls that housed her. It was disgusting to her, the life she lived, but it was all she had. To believe, even for a second, that she could trade it for fancy suits and lavish parties…

Kat was naive to think anything would change. She knew better now. She knew that she couldn’t keep this charade up, and she certainly wasn’t cut out to be a queen. Not now, not ever.

The knock on the door wasn’t enough to shake Kat out of her blank staring. She didn’t answer it, choosing to stay silent and still. There was rustling on the other side of the door before the lock clicked and it opened up.

Walking into the room with a small bag, Anne frowned at Kat’s appearance. “Kat, why are you in your pajamas, we got a meeting tonight?”

Shrugging, Kat barely reacted to Anne’s question. She hummed something noncommittal and squeezed herself tighter into a ball. “Kat, come on,” Anne set the bag down and moved over to her cousin. “You can’t just wallow here for eternity.”

“Yes I can,” Kat mumbled before groaning and unfurling herself. “Just go away Anne.”

Sitting down on the couch, Anne flicked some lint off the crusty plush furtniture. “I’m not going to leave you here alone. Tell me what’s up?”

Dropping her eyes, Kat sighed. Without looking in Anne’s eyes, she answered, “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

Not believing it for a second, Anne moved closer to the teen. “Come on, I can tell that something’s up. You can tell me.” “Why?” Kat glared at her own hands defensively. “So you can make fun of me?”

“I won’t make fun of you,” Anne argued, almost putting her hand on Kat’s back but thinking better of it. “Promise. Cross my heart.”

Kat didn’t trust Anne’s words, but she spilled anyway. “I’m a failure. I let you and the others down. I haven’t belonged here since day one and I’ve only made things worse and harder for you all. I shouldn’t be here.”

Letting the words bounce off her, Anne huffed. “Come on now, that’s not true. We knew from the start it would be hard, none of this is your fault. And I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Anne paused dramatically before continuing, “None of us belong. None of us are really friends - except Cathy and Aragon, and each of our ladies. We’re all struggling Kat, not just you.”

Anne’s confession made Kat feel slightly better, but it was still overshadowed by her fear and doubt. “But at least you all have a reason, a motivation. Something important that you contribute. I’m nobody.”

“And yet you’re perfect,” Anne assured her. “When you watch a spy movie, does the government pick that famous billionaire or the naive looking ‘newbie’ to go undercover.”

Kat shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve ever been able to see a spy movie.”

“Okay -” Anne reiterated, “What I’m trying to say is being ‘nobody’ is exactly what we need. You’re practically invincible if you can’t be tracked down. You’re special Kat, far more special than any of us.”

The words sunk into Kat’s skin, even though she tried to keep them out. Kat wanted to say that she was worthless, because it was easier to hate herself than to look into Anne’s eyes and believe her promises. “I’m going to quit.” The forcefulness of her statement surprised Kat herself, but she held firm. Even when Anne gave her a pleading face, Kat didn’t budge. “I’m going to tell them the truth and I’m going to quit.”

Scrambling for a reply, Anne stood up. “At least come to tonight's meeting. Sit through the meeting and make your decision by the end. If you still want to back out, then I won’t stop you. But please, at least think about staying?”

Kat nodded, although internally she had already made up her mind. There was no way she was going to let the queens convince her to stay. Standing up to go change out of her pajamas, Kat froze a few steps away from Anne. “What’s in the bag you brought?”

“Hmm?” Anne turned her head to the bag. “Oh, nothing much. Just some food I bought from Tescos for you.”

Biting her lip, Kat went into her room and grabbed a change of clothes. She muttered lowly enough that Anne couldn’t hear, “I don’t need your pity,” as she got ready.

The familiar table sent shivers up Kat’s spine as Aragon went over the recap of the failed party. Kat was drowning out the woman’s voice, her shoulders hunched in as she waited for it to end. It felt like all the women were staring at her, blaming her for what had happened. It was all too much, but Kat wouldn’t let herself break down in front of them. She would keep her Katherine Brandon facade for one more night, and then it would end.

“We’ve got some news,” Joan spoke up when Aragon was done. “Maria’s been spending some time creating a code, and she’s finally ready to share.”

Maria made her way to the head of the table and set her hands down. “Yesterday we only had a single earpiece for Cathy, but Maggie’s been making sure we get them for each and every one of you. It took some time, but I’ve figured out the best way we can interact with each other using these. It’s going to seem quite simple, but it’s actually extraordinary. You see, each of you are assigned a number, and with those numbers, we and your fellow queens can contact you.”

“Interesting,” Anna stuck out her bottom lip in appreciation.

Leaning forward, Jane asked, “So what are our numbers?”

“Very basic,” Maria explained, “Aragon is one.” The CEO nodded. “Anne is two.”

Blanching, Anne rocked in her seat. “Really, I’m second to Aragon?”

Narrowing her eyes, Maria shook her head. “It’s not a contest of who’s better. The numbers are a timeline. You’re all arranged in the order in which you met Henry.”

Freezing, Kat set her eyes on the table. She was being put in this pattern that didn’t even apply to her. She was going to mess it up in a matter of minutes when she revealed herself. Anne shot Kat a glance across the table, but the girl missed it. “Three, Jane Seymour.” There was no reaction on Jane’s face, but behind her eyes there was a flash of pain. Maria continued, “Four, Anna.” The German woman tipped an imaginary hat. “Five, Kat.”

Acting like she had expected it in the first place, Kat nodded not particularly caring about her number. She would be five for five minutes, and then it wouldn’t matter. “And Cathy, number six. Whenever we address you in code, it will be using these numbers,” Maria finished.

“Sounds good to me,” Cathy affirmed. ��I think that’s the last thing we had planned for tonight. If anyone has anything else to share, please do.”

Nervously, Anne watched Kat. The teen was psyching herself up, preparing for her admittal. Opening her mouth, Kat’s opening words were drowned out by Anna’s much stronger voice. “Actually, I do.”

“Anna,” Bessie warned as if she knew what was about to happen.

Shutting her mouth, Kat let the other woman talk first. “I was delivering a suit to Henry this morning, checking up on him after the party. He had a terrible hangover and straight up told Bessie and me that he’s going to be stuck at his office from tomorrow night through the morning.”

Standing up as well, Aragon scratched her nails on the table. “Did he seem suspicious of you at all?”

“Not one bit,” Anna spoke proudly. “We’re safe, for now. It didn’t even seem like he remembered anything from last night, so Kat’s still in the perfect position to sneak in and get the evidence we need. We aren’t finished.”

Breath hitching, Kat watched her hands. Her cover wasn’t blown? She could still… she could still do her job? If there was any way she could make up for what she ruined… “I’m in,” Kat shot up out of her chair, making a split second decision.

Anne’s mouth opened in shock when she saw Kat’s determination return to her eyes. Kat wasn’t done yet. “That’s good, because we’ll need you now more than ever,” Anna addressed Kat.

“What exactly are you saying Anna?” Jane questioned.

Smirking, Anna cracked her knuckles. “I’m saying it’s time for some good old fashioned breaking and entering.”

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

Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @everything-insanity @mindless-pidgeon @i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six @thedemidisaster @its-totes-gods-will @thatbolxyngirl @thenameisnoone @sixqueendom

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dreamindolls · 5 years

Text

Muichiro x Reader

Prompt: First Kiss

It wasn’t a particularly bad day today but you couldn’t help yourself from being nervous. You were planning on confessing to Muichiro today but you weren’t sure if he’d reciprocate your feelings. But maybe..just maybe he would…He wasn’t always nice to you he was as cold to you as he was everyone else when you’d first met, but you always talked to him and somehow could tell when someone was wrong with him and helped him when he needed it. Eventually he acted how he would with Tanjiro, smiling and being much nicer to you than everyone else and maybe even just a bit nicer to you than Tanjiro.

You weren’t even sure how to confess to him so maybe instead you’ll just wait for a good moment…”n..[y/n]…Y/N]?” You snapped back intro reality from your thoughts and Muichiro was right there. I guess he’d seen you just standing around and dissociating. “[y/n], are you ok?” He tilted his head confused as to what you were doing.

“Ah! I’m fine just..lost in thought! Ehehe..” You scratched the back of your head in embarrassment. “Soo…” You started but weren’t sure what you were going to ask. Should I invite him to hang out? or maybe I should stay here or-

“Do you want to go to the festival today?” His words cut you off your thoughts again and kind of surprised you. I guess he could tell he surprised you and he repeated his question. “Do you want to go to the festival in town with me?” He glanced around checking if anyone was around and back to you. “It could be like…ₐ..𝒹ₐ..ₜₑ..” He mumbled that last part and you couldn’t hear him.

“Like a what?” You asked him. You don’t know if you’d heard that right. You must be hearing things right?

“Its..nothing don’t worry about it. How about we go get ready now and we can go go in an hour?”

“Sure!” You gave him a grin and he gave you his usual soft smile. “Are we going in yukatas or anything special?” You asked him. You didn’t want to dress up fancy and have him still in his demon slayer attire cause that’d be more than embarrassing.

“Why don’t we go in yukatas? It’ll be nice to wear something other than a uniform all the time. We won’t be unprotected though, we can still bring our katanas with us.” And with that he turned around and left. You stood there for a moment trying to decide which yukata to take when it dawned on you. You don’t own any yukatas….Maybe you could ask Kanroji to take you shopping for yukatas?

———–

“Hey uhm…Kanroji can I ask you a question?”

“hm? Oh!! [y/n]! What can I do for you?” She gave her usual bright smile and held her hands together in anticipation for your question.

“This might be a weird question to ask but…” You shifted awkwardly. “Can you help me find a yukata to wear for tonight? I’m going to the festival in town.”

Her face absolutely beamed when she heard your question. “I’d be glad to help you!! Do you have any ideas what you’d want to wear? It’s a Sakura festival so you should go in something fitting for that!” And so it started. She took you from shop to shop, making you try on yukata after yukata, many different accessories and so many different hairstyles. To you, it seemed like too much but she insisted that if you’re going to the festival you should go all out. You tried telling her you didn’t want to go all out but she still set you up with a [color] yukata. (you can decide how it’d look cause different things look better on different people)

———–

You were waiting at the entrance of the butterfly estate slightly embarrassed with how dressed up you felt. You let out a sigh and waited patiently for Muichiro to arrive. You felt yourself getting antsy waiting for what felt like forever, but in reality it was probably no more than 2-3 minutes.

“[Y/n]!” He called out to you making you jump a bit. When you’d turned around to see him, he was wearing a dark blue yukata (idk how to describe this color but its like a dark blue but not black and you can clearly see its blue so like royal blue? but darker?) and his hair was pinned up. It was a really cute sight if you were being honest. You couldn’t help but feel a little blush come on your face seeing him. “Sorry were you waiting long? It took longer to get ready than I thought!” “Oh not at all I just got here!” you glance around and thankfully no one is outside the estate. “Shall we go then? Don’t want to get there too late!” You wanted to reach your hand out to hold his but you’re not sure he’d want to or maybe he wouldn’t want to. To your surprise he held out his hand to you. You hesitated but you took his hand and smiled. You could’ve sworn he blushed slightly but maybe it was the lighting. And with that you both made your way to the festival

———–

When you’d arrived at the festival it was so lively there. There were a lot more people than you thought there were going to be even at this time of night and it was so bright, there it was hard to believe it was night time. You were so enamored by the scene you didn’t realize you let go of his hand and started walking off on your own just looking and exploring what there was to see. When it finally dawned on you Muichiro wasn’t holding your hand anymore you looked around and he’d been staring at you from not too far behind you. You blushed slightly but let out a quick “W-what? I’ve never been to a festival before…” He giggled a bit and smiled more at you.

“I can tell” He held out his hand yet again for you. “Want to explore together? I’ve never been to one either”

You face lit up and you grabbed his hand and you both went on to explore what the festival had in store. Visiting all the food stands, the games, the lanterns with all different patterns decorating the streets, everything. After hours and hours of just talking with him and hanging out, buying food and winning plushes, you’d both realized there were a lot less people than before. They were all gathered elsewhere to view the fireworks and the night scene with the sky lit up. You were going to suggest you both go look at the fireworks with everyone else but Muichiro suddenly suggested you go watch from farther away. “It’ll be a good spot to see them!” And before you could say anything he started running off with you in hand towards somewhere else.

You eventually ended up at a bridge with a perfect view of the fireworks without any of the people in the way. You were staring at the fireworks completely enticed by it and suddenly it reminded you. You were going to try and confess to him today, how were you even going to begin with this?? “You know..” His sudden words made you jump a bit but you turned to look at him, a curious expression coming over your face. “I was planning on this being a lot smoother but I don’t think I’d be able to do it smoothly” He smiled and started covering his face with his yukata. You were more confused now with what he said, you ended up tilting your head and lifting an eyebrow at him. “[Y/n]…Would you go out with me?” He said from behind his yukata’s sleeve.

Your face flushed at his words but you looked up at him and nodded, too embarrassed to speak. “Does this mean..this would be our first date? Wait- when you asked me to come here were you asking me out on a date??” You’d suddenly realized that you did hear him right! He did say this was going to be a date!

“Ah- Yes..I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go out with me so I wasn’t sure about saying it’d be a date.” he let his arms fall to his side but picked one up to hold both your hands in his. “Is it.. ok if I kiss you?” God you forgot how blunt he can be…You felt like your face was on fire but you nodded your head silently again. He stepped closer and placed his lips on yours. You knew from that kiss that you absolutely loved him, flaws and all. You could feel that he meant it when he asked you out and you fell so hard into the kiss. In the midst of your kiss you could hear the fireworks going off, but they didn’t really matter anymore since now you were really with Muichiro.

#kny #kny x reader #muichiro #tokitou muichirou #kny muichiro #muichiro tokito #muichiro tokitou #muichiro x reader #tokito x reader #tokitou x reader #kny tokitou #kimetsu no yaiba

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abbacchiosbelt · 5 years

Note

May i request a dom fem s/o with doppio if that's okay? maybe with a dash of s/o using toys on doppi plus a whole lot of teasing uwu (and mommy kink if you're comfortable of course! not everybody likes it but that's okay) thank you!

this was my first time writing mommy kink, so i hope it’s okay! please enjoy taking care of a subby doppio!

Amore Carino | Doppio x F!Reader

18+ under the cut!

Doppio, forall the secrecy involved with his job, is horrible at hiding his facial expressions.When he drags himself through the door of your shared bedroom, mouth set in apout and eyes downcast, you coo at him out of concern.

“Amore,” youcall, patting the bed next to you. “Come sit.”

Doppiofollows your request without saying anything else and doesn’t waste a momentbefore burying his face in your breasts and wrapping his arms around you. Youknow your sweet Doppio well – he’s clearly had a bad day. His shoulders relaxas soon as you start to rub soothing circles over his back, and he sighs incontentment when your other hand gently scratches at his scalp. You indulge himin some tender care for a few minutes – you knew the Boss worked him hard.

Before youcan ask what’s wrong, Doppio tilt his head up and looks at you through darklashes, freckled cheeks tinted pink.

“Can youtake care of me tonight,” he starts, swallowing. His cheeks turn a deeper shadeof pink. “Mommy?”

It wassomething new that the two of you were trying – Doppio had always beensubmissive in the bedroom, but he’d brought up the idea (a blushing mess whilehe did it, of course) about calling you Mommy. It only seemed right to you –you loved to care for him, and this was only an extension of that. With asmile, you tuck a piece of his pink hair behind his ear.

“Of course,my darling boy. Mommy will make you feel better.” Doppio gives you a littlesmile and shifts even closer to you, pressing his face further into yourbreasts. The thin silk of the pajamas you were wearing did nothing to concealthe shape of your breasts under the material, and all of Doppio’s rubbing andshifting were causing your nipples to peek through the fabric. Doppio rubs hischeek against one of your breasts and looks up at you, eyes wide.

“Do you wantto touch them, Doppio? Use your words.” He flushes and hides his face againstyour breasts before he peeks back up.

“Can I usemy mouth on them, Mommy? Please?” He was so embarrassed to talk in the bedroomat first, but praise and rewards had turned Doppio into a beautiful sub, alwayswilling and eager to please you. (You’d never push him past his limits, ofcourse, but he himself was determined to be better for you.)

“That’s mygood boy. Yes, you may.” Doppio gives you a shy smile before he gently tugsyour top down, exposing both your breasts. He gently caresses them in hisslender hands, relishing the feel of your soft skin. His mouth goes to lick andsuck at your nipple while he runs his fingers over the opposite nipple, rollingthe sensitive bud between his fingers. Doppio’s tongue rolls your nipple in hismouth, the gentle rhythm of his sucking eliciting a quiet moan from you. Helooks up at you, mouth full and adoration in his eyes, before he pops off witha gentle noise.

“Does thatfeel good, Mommy?” He moves his mouth to the opposite nipple, giving it a gentlelick.

“It does,you’re so good for me, my Doppio.” He shivers from the praise and sucks yournipple into his mouth, giving it the same loving attention as he did the other.When you look down, his eyes are closed and his face is relaxed as he sucks – whenyour gaze continues down his body, the noticeable bulge in his purple slacksmakes it obvious Doppio is very much enjoying himself. You gently wrap a handaround his clothed member and Doppio whines, rutting into your hand. He releasesyour nipple and looks up at you.

“Do you wantMommy to help you feel better?” Doppio flushes and averts his gaze at yourwords, but another feather light squeeze is enough to have him whimpering andpushing into you.

“Yes, Mommy.Please help me.” Doppio says, voice quiet. You lovingly card your hand throughhis hair, taking care to undo his braid without tugging too much. He relaxesinto the touch and looks up at you, teeth biting at his bottom lip.

“You don’thave to hide yourself from me. It’s okay.” You kiss the crown of his head andDoppio blushes harder before he smiles at you – though you’re not sure it wouldbe possible for his face to grow any redder at this point. He was so adorable –it was unfair, really, but you were so happy that he trusted you to see himlike this.

“Why don’tyou go ahead and undress for me?” Doppio nods at your words and hops off thebed, discarding his sweater and pants, leaving him in a cute set of purplelingerie you had bought him. The sheer bralette cupped his chest perfectly, hispink nipples visible through the thin material. Doppio’s cock was strainingagainst the purple panties, wet spot visible where his head rested. He put hishands behind his back and wiggled a little, looking up at you.

“You look socute, my Doppio. Come up and Mommy will make you feel good.” Doppio climbs upnext to you and settles himself in-between your legs, resting his back againstyour chest. It was a comfortable position for both of you – your beautifulDoppio was spread beneath you, and he got to lean against your plush chest andoffer you complete reign over his body.

Doppioshudders when you softly drag your nails against his neck down to hiscollarbone, teasing his sensitive skin. He was easy to fluster – it was likehis body was made up of erogenous zones, Doppio flushing and whining at thelightest touch. The sight of his chest lightly heaving while contained in thebralette made the arousal in your stomach coil tight, your mind going tothoughts of Doppio riding on top of you whilst you wore his favorite strap-on.

It was anight for Doppio, though, so you place a kiss on his temple before you slowlyslide your hands into the bralette and tweak his already hard and puffy nippleswith your fingers.

Doppiowhines and presses back into you, head lolling to the side as he exposes hisslender neck patterned with freckles to you. There’s the lightest sheen ofsweat beading at his forehead – Doppio looks so beautiful like this, facetinted pink and lips swollen from his own bites.

“Mommy,” hemoans, crying out when you roll his nipples between your fingers again. “A-ah,it feels so good—"

You draw onehand up to Doppio’s mouth and he obediently opens, sucking at your thumb untilit’s coated with his saliva. You run your nails back down his chest and slidethe hand back in his bralette, rubbing the wet thumb over his nipples. Doppiowrithes and moans out your name as his cock twitches in his panties.

With apleased hum, you slowly pull you hands out of his bralette and drag them downhis sides, pausing to squeeze at his slender hips. Doppio bucks up andwhimpers.

“A-ah, I’msorry Mommy, I couldn’t help it.” Doppio looks up at you, his bottom lipjutting out a little.

“It’s okay,my Doppio. I know you just want to feel good. Be good a little longer, okay?”Doppio nods, one of his hands coming to stroke your arm in a tender gesture.You lean down and capture Doppio’s lips in a sweet kiss, feeling him smileagainst your lips.

Doppio wasalways so good for you.

When youpart from the kiss Doppio rolls his head back to the side, whimpering as yourun your hands up and down his sensitive sides. When you finally pass thevalley of his hips, he wiggles against you, whining when your hands continuetheir path down to squeeze at his plump thighs.

Doppio was litheand had some muscle, but his thighs held a pleasant plumpness that was undeniablycute. If you had more time, you’d lavish them in kisses and gentle nips untilDoppio was a whining mess above you.

“Mommy,”Doppio says, voice lilting in a questioning tone.

“Yes, baby?”

“Could youplease touch me? I’ve been so good this week. Please?” Doppio usually didn’tbeg like this, so you knew your poor boy must have had a difficult day. Not tomention, the straining of his panties was more obvious by the minute, his cocktwitching at nearly every touch.

“Of course, sweetheart.I was always going to.” Doppio wiggles against you in happiness, eliciting agiggle from both of you. You gingerly slide his panties down, reveling hisflushed cock inch by inch. Doppio was average in size, but his cock wasunbelievably pretty – it flushed pink when he was aroused, and there was acollection of freckles that ran up and down the side of it – he even had cutetufts of pink hair at the base.

His cockbobs against his stomach when you free it, precum already leaking from theswollen head and running down his cute cock. Doppio practically screams out awhine when you wrap a hand around his cock, giving it a gentle pump and rollinghis foreskin down at the same time.

“A-ahn,Mommy, Mommy, I love you—” Doppio whimpers out, pumping into your hand. He wasso reactive to every little thing you did, no matter how many times you touchedhim. You gently shush him, gifting him with a few more strokes before your handlifts up and you turn to dig in the bedside drawer.

Doppiowhines at the loss of contact, but another quiet ‘shh’ from you has himsettling into you while he waits. From the drawer you procure a bottle of lubeand a clear toy that Doppio and you both loved. It had gentle grooves fitinside of it to rub against Doppio’s cock, though your sweet boy alwaysremarked that it didn’t feel nearly as good as you.

You uncapthe bottle of lube and pour a generous amount into the toy, placing the bottleback on the nightstand. You scoop up a little bit of the slick substance withyour fingers and gently work it over Doppio’s cock, his head rolling back oncemore as he keens into your touch.

“Are youready, my sweet Doppio?” You take the toy into your hand and hold it above hisstraining cock, watching as it twitches in anticipation.

“Yes, Mommy,please—” Doppio moans, chest heaving in want. His whole body reacted when hewas aroused – his chest was flushed and his eyes were lidded, cock leaking outmore precum.

With apleased hum, you slowly work the sleeve over Doppio’s cock, biting your own lipas you watch his member slip inside the toy. It was big enough that it onlyleft the very tip of his cock out. He groans and rolls his head against yourbreasts, hips thrusting up at the sensation.

“Be good forme.” You gently chide, and Doppio nods eagerly, willing his hips to stopmoving. You pump the sleeve on him slowly at first, watching how his flushedcock looks inside of the clear toy as you work it over him. (And oh, how youwish you were riding him right now, your boy pinned to the bed whilst youfucked him – but perhaps that could be for later tonight, or tomorrow.) Doppiogasps when you increase your pace, the sleeve making a squelching noise as youwork it over him.

Doppio wasalready coming undone – as if he wasn’t before – mouth thrown open, shamelessmoans and whimpers falling out of his mouth at every pump of the toy. His handswere digging into the sheets below and his legs were shaking violently, chestrapidly pushing up and down from excitement.

And thoughit would be fun to draw this out, to have Doppio begging and crying, you wantto treat him – so you pump the toy over his cock faster and listen to him cryout.

“Ooh, Mommy,can I cum, p-please—” Doppio pants out, voice strained. Your Doppio was alwaysso polite.

“Cum forMommy, baby.” Doppio lets out a strangled moan and cums, ropes of his hotrelease shooting out onto your hand and his stomach, some pooling inside the toy.You work the toy over him in a few last slow pumps to milk him completely,finally pulling it off of him when he lets out a sob from overstimulation.

He’s a mess,really – pink hair undone around his freckled shoulders, face flushed, bodysweaty and stomach covered in his own release – but fuck, if your Doppio wasn’tthe most beautiful sight you’d ever seen.

Both of yousit quietly while Doppio pants against you, coming back down from his intenseorgasm. Your own sticky hand can be dealt with later. Gazing down, you meet hisgolden eyes, crinkled up into a smile.

“Feel better?”You ask, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“Always.Thanks,” Doppio says, sitting up slightly. He shakes out his hair and tuckssome of the strands back behind his ears before twisting his body towardsyours. “I love you, tesoro.”

“Mm,” youhum, leaning in to press your forehead against his. “I love you too. Do youwant me to do anything else? Run a bath? Read to you?”

Doppio layshis head against your shoulder and sighs happily.

“How aboutwe shower together, amore? I want to take care of you too. Then, we can take abubble bath after.” Doppio raises his head and meets your gaze, giving you thatshy little smile that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

“Soundsperfect, my Doppio.”

#not sfw #vinegar doppio #doppio #doppio x reader #reader insert #mommy kink #afab and she/her reader #my fics #vento aureo #Anonymous

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eyesfixedonthesun22 · 5 years

Text

Black Coffee: Part 3

Summary: Coffee aroma surrounds you as you prepare for a long day of studying in your favorite coffee shop. Your focus is shattered by a handsome stranger demanding a very large favor-pretend to be his girlfriend. Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader Warning(s): Cursing. Innocent fluff. Word Count: 1,613 Beta Reader: My darling honey bun, @supersoldiersruined-me Notes: I wasn’t planning on making this a series...and yet there are now 4 parts to the story in my drafts. ;)

Your body, previously heated at the growing fondness for Bucky, feels chilled as you stir. You hear your name called over and over. It sounds like it’s being called down a long echoing tunnel. The sounds refuse to be made crisp and clear.

Warmth.

Two sources of heat frame the sides of your face. The words start to behave and form sentences.

“Open your eyes, doll. You okay? I need you to tell me you’re okay.” The warmth travels paths up and down your arms. Is someone shaking you? “I’m gonna kill that child.”

“Who are we killing?” Your eyes open and immediately shut.

Ouch. Too bright.

You sit up with Bucky’s help. From the new angle you’re no longer blinded when you open your eyes. “What the hell happened? Why am I wet?”

“Peter thought it would be funny to attack us all with water balloons.” Steve said.

“Only problem is the little asshole has invented a water balloon gun and the calibration was off. Too forceful and rapid fire.” Bucky grumps and glares at Peter.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Barnes. I didn’t even hit her.”

“Don’t apologize, Peter.” You wince a little, moving to a standing position. Bucky��s still examining your head. “I thought it was funny. I’m just the clumsiest person on earth. Next time, aim for the boyfriend.” The word felt foreign on your lips but brought you a stupid amount of joy. Did you have a concussion?

“You tripped, hit your head, and somehow managed to fall into the pool.” Clint snorts.

“Sounds about right.” You shoot him a finger gun. “Really I’m fine.” You try to push Bucky’s examining hands away. Your body sways unconvincingly, completely undoing your attempt at downplaying the injuries.

“No, you aren’t. Let’s go patch you up and get you out of these wet clothes.” You’re ready to protest but Bucky’s steering you back inside toward the elevators. Ruby follows behind.

In the elevator you lean into Bucky’s side. The warmth he radiates feels even more needed now in the A/C cooled interior. His soft shirt against your cheek soothes you. The fabric is saturated with a comforting fresh smell you’d already come to associate with Bucky.

“Wait! How the hell are you dry if I fell in the pool?!” You shoot him an accusing glare. “You didn’t try to save me!?”

“Before I ran over, Ruby was already hauling you up the steps.” You glance down at the pooch. Her previously fluffy fur is plastered to her skin. It drips rivulets onto the elevator floor.

“You must have made a good impression on her, doll.”

You run a hand through the damp hair at her ear, scratching lightly. Silently you thank her extra training. You wonder if Bucky takes the time to teach her himself. It’s not much of a thank you, but her thumping tail lets you know it’s welcome. Rufus probably would have just stood at the edge of the pool and barked; that is, if he would have moved at all. Bucky leads you off the elevator through a richly decorated living space down a long hallway. You follow along wordlessly, taking in the surroundings until you reach his bedroom.

“Ruby. Go lay down.” Bucky commands softy. She shakes herself dry once more before curling up in the giant plush dog bed in the corner of Bucky’s bedroom. “Let’s get you out of those clothes.”

“So that was your plan all along, Barnes.” He’s rifling through his dresser but pauses. “If you wanted me naked in your room, all you had to do was ask.”

The gulp he swallows is audible. “Darling, I didn’t mean- I swear I just- Fuck.”

“I’m messing with you.” Fresh heat rushes to your cheeks realizing how much your chiding had shaken him. Now you were thinking about actually getting naked. Naked for other circumstances. Damn your wandering mind.

He hands you a pair of neatly folded grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt. Even without them near your nose, you can bet the same fresh scent clings to their fibers. Bucky’s smell.

“Bathroom is through there.” He gestures vaguely. He’s not meeting your eyes. “Just let me in when you’re dressed so I can look at that gash on your head.”

Your hand reaches instinctively to touch at your temple. Ouch. That was a mistake.

In the safety of the bathroom, you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. A quick glance in the mirror has you recoiling at your reflection. The fall into the pool had transformed you into a drowned rat. Your makeup was a lost cause. Sitting in a decorative basket is a collection of towels. You grab a washcloth and wipe the remnants away. Your hair would have to airdry. You tousle it a bit and comb out any knots the best you can with your fingers. You strip off the sopping clothes and hang them over a rail in his shower. After toweling off the rest of the dampness, the soft fleece of the sweatpants and clean cotton feel heavenly against your skin. It was the same feeling you’d always loved as a child. After a day at the beach or pool, changing into soft, clean clothes always felt better against your sun-soaked skin.

You opened the bathroom door. Bucky was laying on his bed spread eagle. His eyes were closed allowing you to study him undetected. He’d taken off the jacket he’d worn earlier today. What you’d previously thought was a white t-shirt underneath was a tank top. One of his arms was tanned a deep brown like the rest of his skin. The other glinted the light from the window in splintered patterns on the wall. He was gorgeous. You wonder how it would feel to see him like this more. What would it be like to walk into a room and see your “boyfriend” snoozing on the bed? Ruby shifts to acknowledge you. Her movement alerts Bucky.

“Nap time?” You ask. Hoping the warble of pitch doesn’t somehow betray your daydreams.

“Sometimes this much socializing takes a lot out of me. I love ‘em. But the quiet is nice.” You smile warmly not expecting such an honest answer. “Let me get a look at your head.”

He has you sit on the toilet while he gets out the first aid kit from under the sink. Thankfully the gash looks worse than it is. No stitches needed he had said with certainty. Bucky kneels in front of you while he cleans the cut. In no time at all, it’s covered with a bandage and antibiotic ointment. He’s still on his knees. The silence between you is pleasant and agreeable but something is nagging at the back of your brain.

“Bucky?” You ask. He’s rolling up the long pant legs of his sweatpants to a suitable length for you. Occasionally, the pads of his fingers graze against your skin. “How long are we going to do this?”

His fingers pause.

“Don’t wanna stay my captive forever?” Despite the joke his expression is guarded. He speaks more to himself than you, “Sam’s bound to figure out I can’t actually land a girl like you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Doll, seriously. You’re kicking ass in school, have an amazing future lined up for you, and you’re way out of my league. All things that are great for rubbing in Sam’s face, but this isn’t right.”

The silence returns.

“It’s not right?”

He scoffs. “Understatement of the year.”

“Wow. I guess I didn’t realize how not right I am. Thanks for enlightening me.”

The vulnerability this stranger had managed to pull out of you in a day was terrifying enough but to have him laugh at you was unacceptable; backhanded compliment or otherwise. Clearly, you’d been delusional earlier and the bump to your head must have knocked you back into reality. He considers me good enough to flaunt to Wilson but not good enough for him to actually date. You stand and stomp towards the door.

“Darling, wait! What did I say?”

“Enough!” you snap. His eyes go wide; putting together the pieces. “Enough cute names, enough fake dating, I’m done.”

“You misunderstood. I meant that you deserve more than a fake relationship and you certainly deserve more than me.” You pause in the doorway. “You’re beautiful and smart. I’ve known you for less than 24 hours and you’ve had me a sputtering mess for nearly all of them. I’m just some guy who asked you for a stupid favor this morning because I told a pathetic lie to my friends. Every fact I learned about you, every quirk, has made me realize how thoroughly inadequate I am.”

Your brain, formerly full of rage fueled quips, struggles to form words.

“I’m not stupid enough to think this is love, but damn if I’m not smitten with you, doll. I scoffed because with every skeleton in my closet I’ve been waiting for you to bail.”

“I did try to drown myself.” You attempt to contain the smirk playing at your lips but fail.

“Gonna have to do better if you’re gonna hang around a gang of superheroes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“Next time?” He closes the distance between you and hugs you tight to his chest. He can smell the notes of your shampoo mixing with the chlorine as he presses a kiss to your scalp. There’s a short warning boof before the two of you are tackled by Ruby in her own fashion of a hug.

“Can I take you on a real first date?”

“Was this one not lively enough for you, Barnes?!”

#bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky #marvel #mcu #coffeeshop au #meet cute #fake dating #my writing #my fics #black coffee

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gwilymz · 5 years

Text

Good Company- Part Nine

Summary: With Queen’s first tour starting soon, you and Brian have to part ways.

Word Count: 5.5k+

Warnings: Angst, (very) light smut

Author’s Note: Again, sorry this chapter took so long!! I’ve been super busy with school, and sadly these last two chapters have been filler chapters to get to the good stuff, so I’ve been working extra hard to make sure they’re actually entertaining. Thanks for reading and I love you all endlessly!! xoxo- em (p.s. i apologize that it’s a bit short :// and p.p.s (or is it two s’s....idk... but i finished this very late so i didn’t edit it oopsie) )

“Tour? Of where?” You asked, rubbing a shaky thumb over Brian’s knuckles. They were cold and white--numb from the nipping wind outside, one that seemed to tattoo a healthy glow upon Brian’s face. But maybe that was from your desperate kisses; you couldn’t be sure.

Brian chewed the inside of his cheek, tentative to tell you, although proud of his accomplishment; Queen had been recording for ages--waking up at two in the morning just to shimmy their way into a grueling session. Brian couldn’t remember the last time his eyes felt clear, that the usually milky whites of them weren’t feathered pink from being so bloodshot. His fingers had a perpetual ache that almost acted as a token, reminding him of how much he had done for this band. He had forfeited the once heaping, golden mass of respect his parents had for him, all for his band. And usually Brian’s cheeks would be pulled up tautly by the sheer force of this pride, this wistful triumph. But standing on the creaky floors of your flat, his hands limp and lifeless in your own, he felt ashamed. Stupid. Like he had done something wrong.

“Here--at first.” He began, his hands finally jolting awake, as if sparked by a jarring jolt of electricity, powered solely by the paradoxical look of proud disappointment etched upon your plaintive face. “But we go to America too. A little bit of everywhere, really.”

You ran a fingernail over the protruding tendons in his hand, watching them quiver under your touch. His wrist was fragile, delicate, and beating under the ridges of your fingertips; his pulse was racing, jittering under skin that was still shedding color from the forever ago afterglow of the summer. “America? I--wow, Brian.” You were surprised. Not that you ever doubted Queen’s talent; in fact you envied the undiluted passion and skill that each member was endowed with, as if it were a gilded gift from God himself. But you had always had them there. You guessed you weren’t surprised that they had made it, but rather that they would actually have to go. For over a year, the four of them had been a constant in your life, unwavering and consistently there. You had always seen them tipsy in pubs and had them to call when your heat broke in the dead of winter. You had always had them, and they had always had you. And realizing now that the ruthless and crooked yet painstakingly straight-across path of time would separate you from them--from Brian--instead of cracked pavement and a few flights of terribly uneven stairs--was almost too much to fathom. You held your breath for a few seconds, counting in tandem with the calculated ticks of the clock hung crookedly on the wall. Maybe a brain devoid of oxygen would convince you this wasn’t real.

“Yeah--it’s quite daunting. A lot of gigs all packed into a few months. That’s the good thing--right? Only a couple of months?” He wasn’t convinced; his own question was a rhetoric to himself, persuading himself that it was, in fact, a good thing when it was starting to feel anything but.

You gripped Brian’s hand tighter, your nails digging into the skin enough for you to mutter a hushed apology. Sliding off the waxy countertop, you pressed the edge of your nail into the fingernail on his thumb, gliding it across the freshly chipped polish. “How will that work?” You mumbled, your thumb finding a haven in the divot of his knuckles. “Being with Roger 24/7? And us? What about--” You paused, not wanting to sound so blatantly selfish. But it was the question rooted upon your heads, its sticky tendrils snaking down your cheeks and pushing them down to form sullen frowns. What would happen with you and him? You both were used to everything being stationary, etched and recorded and familiar. You always knew to take two rights and a left to get to his flat; if you wanted to call him your fingers knew their rightful path. Everything had been so natural and innate. But now, you wouldn’t know where Brian was, not exactly at least. You could look at the creased copy of the tentatively planned tour dates and guess that maybe Brian was cruising through Scotland or riding over the lush green valleys of western America. But what about the in-between days? What about when his head was resting on the shaky window on a plane, his thighs squished in the seat and more akin to a bird--unreachable and transient--than your Brian.

Brian trudged to your couch and lifted his sock-covered feet onto your coffee table, tentatively tapping the cushioned spot next to him with a tensely flexed hand. He sighed, scratching his chin, where he had cut himself shaving; but he kept picking at the scarlet red scab and it left a tiny pink scar blotched over his tan skin. “That’s--a good question. I don’t know, to be quite frank with you.” He scooted a bit to the side as you sat down next to him, his fingertips tracing secret messages into your shoulders. He hoped you could feel them, that they would seep beneath your skin and course through the high road of your nervous system and reach the most primitive parts of you-- and you would know--know that he was sorry for leaving. That he didn’t really want to--but also that he wanted nothing more than to get out. “I guess we’ll have to make up eventually; I don’t see the band breaking up anytime soon.”

You tilted Brian’s chin towards you, your finger running over the fresh stubble budding upon his face. His eyes peered down at you almost apologetically, his irises a clearer brown, so clear you wanted nothing more than to stare into them forever. But your time limit was formidable, and you had to look away; you didn’t want to get so lost within him that his absence left you completely misguided, feeling like you were just somebody completely surface-level. There needed to be something underneath, too. You rested your head on his shoulder and sighed, a small scoff choking out. “Really? Seems like you’ve come close.”

Brian shrugged, opting to tuck his almost numb feet under his thighs. “We’re both much too stubborn to let the other get what they want.” Brian said, yawning. He rubbed the top of his hands in a desperate attempt to channel some warmth under the taut skin , dotted with faded freckles. “But I guess you’ve seen that firsthand.” Shuddering, Brian tilted his head down and rested his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling himself into the warm crook of your neck. “Jesus, it’s so cold in here. It’s February, you know that, right?”

His voice was small and muffled, absorbed by the thick couch cushions his face was buried in. “It’s not cold. I set the thermostat to 21. Last time you slept over you woke up kicking off the covers saying it was too hot when it was about 3 degrees colder.”

Brian wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pushing his feet under your butt a little. “What?” He wiggled his toes and smiled cheekily. “It’s warm under here, I’ll have you know. Plus, that was after a gig. My body never knows how to maintain homeostasis after shows and my body temperature goes crazy every time.”

You stood up easily, leaving Brian curled up in the corner of the couch, shivering, his hands rubbing his goose-bumped forearms desperately. The tip of his nose was a pronounced red like the uneven blotches upon his cheeks. “Want a blanket, Brian? The really fluffy one is clean.” You held a light blue plush blanket from a small woven basket by the front door. Brian’s clogs sat askew on the floor, teetering on their sides as you walked over the cold wooden floors.

“Yes, please. I don’t know why I’m so cold. My teeth are literally chattering.” He tensed his jaw slack and rolled his shoulders back, enough so his collarbones sunk into his creamy skin as you shuffled back over to the couch, the blanket tucked in hand.

You plopped down next to him and draped the blanket over his shoulders, watching the soft fabric slide over his hair, bouncing some extra-defined curls of his that fell upon his sloped shoulders. “I guess you’re always a bit cold.” You reasoned, pulling the ends of the blanket closed so he was in his own little cocoon, sitting cross-legged on your couch peppered with permanent streaks of cigarette ashes, the constant remnants of your and Roger’s relationship weaved into the very heart of your home, inescapable and almost unbearable. But Brian was there now. Just for now. And you didn’t want Roger to taint and scratch the cloudy shell of your hourglass; you could already hear the sand tinkling through the narrow middle.

___

You and Brian had fallen asleep on the couch midday; you remember your eyelids fluttering closed, your cheek pressed against Brian’s steady heartbeat that slowed as he drifted into a comfortable slumber, his own cheek smashed against the textured cushion underneath him. That was at about three in the afternoon, and now, waking up, you noticed how the yellow shower of the late winter sun was long gone, replaced with the bright sliver of a crescent moon, glowing between the pulled blinds and projecting over Brian’s peaceful features. You rested your chin on his chest, effortlessly relaxed by his breathing that was lulling you into a hazy in-between state of being asleep and awake. His mouth was parted, his cheeks patterned with marks from the couch that ambled into more shallow indentations around his eyes, closed loosely. His feathery eyelashes laid against the very tops of his cheekbones, flitting across the delicate skin as his eyes moved rapidly beneath silky eyelids, sheathed in a pastel shade of lilac from the tiny capillaries, just below the paper-thin epidermis.

Brian shifted beneath your touch as you traced your shaky fingertip over the slope of his nose, admiring how the light shone across the smooth skin and highlighted the angular bridge that complemented his face so flawlessly. Your finger ran over his cupids bow, tracing over a fine patch of stubble that was germinating above his upper lip. It was rough, dark, hair that matched the beginnings of some facial hair peppered around his prominent jaw. He looked beautiful like this--completely ethereal and tranquil--like all that mattered were his breaths, warm and fanning over your chin. Like he wasn’t worried in the slightest bit, not about leaving or plane rides or fights with Roger. In that moment, he was just Brian. There were no obligations, arguments, or meaningless bouts of un-vowed silence. There were many moments within your and his ever-budding relationship where you didn’t know what to say to make it right, didn’t know what to do to take back something you wished would have remained unsaid. There seemed to always be a trail of eggshells wherever your relationship with Brian went, and watching him sleep beneath you, his hair fanned out on the velvety pillow that was halfway off the couch, reminded you of why those eggshells, although fragile and monumentally inconvenient, were important. Were worth it. There was something rewarding about being with Brian, knowing how much it had taken to be his, all the fateful stepping stones floating upon the riverbed of reality that assured to you both that maybe it was meant to be.

Brian’s eyes opened slowly, his eyelids lifting and falling almost in sync with his shallow breaths. The glint of the moon left little moons of his own pooled in his pupils, reflected in the puddles of honey that were his irises, drenched in a hue on the cusp of hazel. The reflections rippled as his cheeks lifted into a small smile, his canines poking into his lip as he stretched his arms out.

“G’morning.” He rasped, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm. He extended his legs a little and groaned as he stretched the muscles, tingly from laying in such an awkward position for hours on end.

“Good middle-of-the-night.” You kissed his sternum lazily, ruffling his hair as he yawned, blinking the excess sleepiness away from his eyes.

“God--how long have we been out?” He asked, sitting up slowly, holding the blanket to him to keep warm; he was still cold despite his many layers, a blanket, and a very warm girl laying on top of him.

“About twelve hours.” You turned a small analog clock towards him; you kept one on the couch for the many fleeting guests you and your roommates always seemed to have.

Brian squinted, his eyes still adjusting to the blackness of the night, faded a deep grey by the moonlight. Sure enough, the tiny slivers of the clock were ticking timely to three in the morning. “Well shit, what are we gonna do? I’m not tired at all--I’m the opposite of tired.” He rested on his elbows, his jaw twitching as he yawned again.

“So you’re awake? That’s what that means.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, running your thumb over his cheek. “But I know what you mean. I am the opposite of tired too. Mega-awake if you will.”

“Mega-awake..that’s a good way to put it. But another thing.” Brian swallowed holding a hand up and smacking his lips together dramatically. “I’m mega-hungry too. My stomach is eating itself alive.”

“Oh no,” You retorted, pulling a small curl by his ear as he sits up all the way, leaning his head back to look at the ceiling, stained with splotches of water that fed into one another, lined by a thin brown rim that differentiated the aged stains from fresher ones. “What do you want to eat, bub?”

“It’s a little late--or early--to get food.” Brian clutched his stomach, opting to lean forward to soothe the sharp pangs in his gut.

“I mean, we’re in London, we can find something.” You reminded him, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck. He sighed, tilting his head back to grant you access to the elongated column of his throat. “Someone wants kisses.” You mumbled against his jaw, your arms snaking around his neck. He moaned feebly as your tongue dragged over his bottom lip with concentrated langour. His kisses were sleepy and slow; his tongue hurried and uncoordinated from the sleepiness stagnant in his veins, but he was fueled by passion--by knowing you and him wouldn’t be together for much longer. That you couldn’t be together. Brian remembered this mid-kiss and grabbed your shoulders, pulling away slightly, although you had a firm hold on his hoodie, your thumb cooled by the metal ring near the hood.

“Shouldn’t we--talk? About tour?” Brian’s hands rubbed over his pants nervously, and he tried to focus on the texture of the thinning denim on his palms instead of the saline tears pooling in his eyes. He was right--it was the quite significant elephant in the room, seemingly perched upon your laps, and oddly, it was your close proximity with Brian that was making the topic fester in your minds, despite how easy it would be to speak up, to say what was begging to be said. “Do you have any questions? Are you as scared as I am? Because I’m terrified to leave, and you’re being--”

“Strangely calm?” You interjected, cocking an eyebrow as you smoothed Brian’s hair down; it was amazingly messy and frizzy from his position on the couch, and a few curls stood up haphazardly on his head. “I guess I’ve been avoiding it ‘cause I don’t want to admit you’ll be gone in--” You paused, realizing you hadn’t been attentive enough to ask when he was leaving, or when the tour started.

Brian sensed what you were getting at, his eyes averting to the canary yellow clock still ticking away on the coffee table. It was now a bit past three, and Brian wanted nothing more than to stop it altogether--to plead with the Gods, with whatever higher power was forcing the world to move forward when he wanted so badly for it to just stand still. He clasped a hand over his sternum and let out a shaky sigh. “Three days. The first show is on the first of March.”

“The first of March?” You confirmed, running your pointer finger down the middle of Brian’s soft palm, tracing the length of his long middle finger. “You’re leaving in three days?”

“Yeah--it was very last minute. Mott The Hoople needed someone; I guess their other opening act backed out a few days ago.”

You paused, furrowing your eyebrows as you scooted closer to Brian, squeezing his hand as your fingernails traced over his own painted ones. You watched a layer of the white polish cling to the couch. “So you leave in, what, 72 hours, and you haven’t packed at all?”

Brian gasped dramatically and fluttered his eyelashes, his fingers splayed over his warm chest. “You’re supposed to be crying because I’m leaving, not helping me go.” He huffed facetiously and turned away from you, pulling the blanket from your lap in the process.

“Okay, drama queen. Well you need to pack, and we’re going to do that, right now.” You yanked the blanket from Brian and he pulled back on it so you fell onto his lap snugly.

“If we wake those sleeping monsters up they’ll break our bones and spit on us.” Brian cautioned, biting nervously on his thumbnail.

“Fine.” you offered. “But later I’m helping you pack so you’re not miserable during our last few days together.”

___

“How cold could it possibly be there in spring?” Brian inquired, his chin angled downwards awkwardly, so he could hold a wire hanger up as his arms gathered a plethora of t-shirts, hoodies, button-ups and stage costumes--as many as he could possibly shove into his charcoal suitcase, laid open on his bed. Socks and boxers lined the bottom of the case, rippled over the metal columns of the handle that fed into the suitcase like a makeshift spine.

You were picking through his jackets and coats, thumbing over fur and suede material as the haloed rays of the afternoon sun began to shimmer over Brian’s curls. “In America? Well, I’m sure they have cold days too. You do know you’ll be visiting different regions, right?”

“I suppose you’re right.” He stuck his nose up, waddling to the bed and opening his arms, letting the sea of clothes in his arms tumble into the suitcase.

“I know I’m right. And you’re the one who’s been shivering since last night; you should be thanking me for thinking of future Brian, I’m sure he’ll thank me when you’re nice and warm in New York.” You quipped, shoving some shirts back into Brian’s arms as you folded a few crisp button-ups and smoothed them over one another.

“I don’t wanna think about future Brian ‘cause he’ll be gone.” Brian said, sitting on a nest of velvet trousers and long, navy blue jeans.

Standing up, you kicked a loose hanger across the floor and sunk your knees on the bed, straddling Brian, coaxing him to lay down, as his hands found your hips instinctively. “Then let’s focus on present Brian.” You ran your hand down his chest, feeling the ridges of his ribs from beneath the t-shirt he was donning, a white ringer with a carmine red around the sleeves and collars. Your thumbs traced over his collarbones as your lips found his throat, sucking and kissing along the tender skin near his bobbing adams apple

“This isn’t packing.” Brian gasped out, holding the back of your head, guiding your kisses upwards until your tongue dragged over his protruded bottom lip, a bit chapped and tasting of overripe grapefruit. You ground against him a bit, pulling his arms from your waist to hold them above his head, where a small bag of his toiletries laid, the plastic bottles clicking against each other as Brian’s head turned to the side.

“Then should I stop?” You teased, peppering soft kisses on his mouth. Brian rolled his eyes and puckered his lips, poking his tongue out to lick the tip of your nose playfully as you leaned forward.

“Now I never said that.” He breathed, pulling his arms from your grasp and returning them to their rightful place on your hips, and then down over the curve of your ass. “But just know that Roger could walk in at any second, and he would probably kill us--just with his words.”

You pulled away from kissing him and sat up slowly, lifting an eyebrow at Brian as your fingers fumbled with the brassy button of his jeans. “You don’t seem too apprehensive.”

Lifting his hips to aid your undressing him, he scoffed. “I’m not worried about that anymore. Plus I learned how to lock my door.”

You slid his jeans off his legs, palming his cock through his briefs. You felt a tingle course through your veins as you watched Brian’s head fall back as his mouth opened, a deep moan reverberating from the hollow of his throat. “Consider this my parting gift to you.” You spat in your hand as Brian quickly rid himself of his underwear, throwing them into the mass of clothes spilling from his closet door, barely ajar. You slowly slid your wet palm down his shaft, tightening your grip and allowing your other hand to fondle his balls attentively. Your palm rubbed over the head of his cock and he sighed pleasurably, a lazy smile forming on his peachy lips. “Yeah? That feel good?” You cooed, grinding yourself along his outstretched, shaky thigh as you twisted your hand around his cock leisurely, watching his pre-cum leak from his slit.

“Mmhm. Christ--I love you.” Brian moaned breathily, his hips thrusting upwards as you pumped him in your hand, his lip tugged tight between his teeth. “‘M gonna miss you, baby.” He groaned from deep in his throat, his hips beginning to buck up with every turn of your wrist.

“I love you, Brian. I’m gonna miss you so much.” Tears trembled through soaked lashes as you watched him come undone. Running your thumb along his weeping slit you choked out a cry, but Brian’s eyes were screwed shut as he desperately fucked into your hand.

“You’re so--good. I love you so much--” The sheets rippled as his fingers pulled at the airy linen, his chin angled upwards from the position of his head, thrown back from rushing fits of pleasure. Hearing your muffled cries, Brian’s eyes opened, his hand enveloping over your own, splayed on his upper thigh. “Are you okay?” He followed a strand of your hair, still drying from the downpour outside; you still heard the rain veiling cold windows over the rustling of the sheets.

“Yeah, yeah.” You assured. “It’s finally real. That you’re leaving.” You added, your hand still pumping slowly at Brian’s cock. Flushed a healthy rose, Brian’s jaw stretched, his lips a brimful of lust-blood, kept wet under a thin coat of his saliva.

Brian’s eyes kept contact with your own, even through his erratic blinking; his eyelids felt burdened, impossible to keep lifted. “Just for a few months. Just remember that it’s only for a bit.”

“A bit?” You ogled. Over three months couldn’t be labeled as anything remotely close to ‘a bit’. Loosening your grip on Brian’s cock completely, you squeezed his upper thigh gingerly, feeling the peach-fuzz run over your fingertips. “Sorry I ruined the mood.”

Brian denied your apology, shifting to rest on his elbows. “You didn’t ruin anything. You don’t owe me anything, angel.” He held the middle of your forearm, the callus on his middle finger thrumming over your skin. You watched the remainders of his arousal migrate down his neck in the form of a scarlet flush.

Your own fingers followed the crown of his head, threading through deep chocolate tendrils of hair before following the curve of his jaw. You felt bad you had stopped touching him, but his features looked plenty blissed-out, just laying with you atop his messy bed. It was cold from a persistent lack of use, but Brian’s presence seemed to light his bedspread aglow with a sustained comfort that lulled you both into slumber, one that enabled the repression of the longings manifested on the tip of your tongues, still doused in one another.

Two days later, the wilted poppies on Brian’s front stoop seemed tired of the winter’s oppressing toll on their pride; they stood tall, almost well-postured although their petals crackled in the wind, their natural red dulled into an oxidized rust that matched the rims on the van parked in the alleyway just around the corner. Brian sat with you on the curb, his back hunched as his neck craned downwards, almost shamefully.

Feeling the edge of his collarbone protruding from his shoulder, you broke the tangible silence between you. Really, everyone was silent; Roger, Freddie, Deaky and a few roadies who looked much too young to be leaving home--were leaning against the exposed brick, the outside wall of where so many memories were formed. Where your concept of love molded itself and proved to be so effortlessly malleable from your switch from Roger to Brian. The others watched you and Brian intently, almost looking for confirmation that you both were breathing.

“Are you going to be safe?” You asked. “And not stupid?”

Brian rolled his eyes but the playful nature was overridden by a few tears spilling over his cheekbones. “Of course I’ll be safe.” His voice cracked, his thumb following the expanse of skin from your wrist to your own thumb, quivering under his touch. Rain began to patter over shackled roofs and you could feel the space between you widening, even as he pulled you to his half-exposed chest. Time was fizzling in your ears, a sand falling through abysmal gaps between your fingers, still intertwined. Cupping your cheek, he sighed, his thumb rolling over your ear as his lips parted, his tongue searching for yours desperately, as if to make sure you were still there. You tasted salt as a tear tumbled over his top lip.

“I love you,” You whispered, over the chimes chirping over your heads. “I’ll see you soon.”

A flock of pigeons squawked overhead. “I love you more.” He said. “See you soon.”

Brian laid across the backseat of the van, half-awake from the uneven gravel roads Roger was driving across; he had erratic intervals of driving at a plausible speed, and then he’d bend his foot forward on the gas until they all inevitably lurched from their seats as he slammed on the faulty brakes.

“Do you think you’re over her?” Deaky asked, bracing a hand on the dashboard, squished between Roger and Freddie, who was resting his feet over the leather of the tattered armrest.

The wind combed Roger’s waved hair as he puffed on a cigarette, burnt almost to the butt. “You know, I think I am. I--I love her still. You know?” Roger ashed his cigarette in a foggy glass tray in the cupholder.

Deaky nodded, stifling a yawn. His legs hurt from being folded underneath him for the past few hours, and he loathed Brian for getting the backseat to stretch his legs out. Plus, they figured he would need the first few days on the road for the purpose of sulking. “I understand that, Rog. It hasn’t been all too long.”

The conversation was bleak; they had been on the road for a little over four hours, and hadn’t seen anything more substantial than spotted horses roaming freshly thawed fields, the occasional chipped red barn. Brian wasn’t asleep anymore; truthfully, he had never faded into slumber, not even the hazy, rolling car-sleep he could usually get on the road.

“It’s about time.” Freddie added, picking at a black nail, chipping around the edges. “Did you see that goodbye? They’re the real deal, I’m afraid.”

Nervously lighting yet another cigarette, Roger bit his top lip, tasting a tinge of metal, the taste of stale smoke. “You think so? Or do you just think he’s better for her?” Freddie turned away for a second, contemplating. It was true--Freddie did believe Brian was a much better fit for you, that it just worked between you two. That there was something natural about the way your conversations flowed from the chambers of your synchronized hearts and not the forces of the environment around you. Roger sort of agreed.

“Of course I think he’s better for her.” Freddie scoffed. “I love you Rog, but you cheated on her. Full-on cheated--not even, like, a little hazy cheating.”

“God, I know. Maybe that was for the best. Brian’s happy right?” Roger asked, genuinely. For the first time in months, acceptance was in his realm of possibilities. “I mean, shit, not now, but in general?” Brian hid a smile behind his sleeve as Deaky fiddled with the dials of the radio. Freddie slapped his hand away when The Beatles came on.

“I think he is.” Deaky nodded, folding his hands over his lap. “Christ, he was fine with the idea of having a kid with her.”

Roger shuddered. “Yeah, fuck that. I love that girl to death but no fuckin’ way.”

Finally, their weary eyes began to see grey marinas, darkened by the fading glow of dusk. City lights shone through windows cloaked in acid rain, and Roger turned the radio up, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

Brian felt well-rested as he slung his guitar over his body, his fingers stroking over the leather strap flush against his collarbones. The angelic stage costume he had grown accustomed to was much itchier than he remembered it, and he scratched mindlessly at his neck, where a silver chain sat over the protruding tendons. The second gig of the tour was set to start at eight, but that time had long passed, and he knew the thirty minute delay was just show business. For some reason, this delay was symbolic of success; no longer did the foursome have to haul their instruments in their own cars and spend entire days assembling drum kits just to pull them apart a couple of hours later--except with a few drinks in their over-aroused systems.

“Do you think the crowd is about the same as last night?” Freddie, despite his eccentric and commanding stage performance--was nervous. He had been since they had left a couple of days before; he knew this would aid in their big break he had been envisioning for them since he sketched the Queen logo in a coffee shop two blocks away from their apartment, now abandoned.

“I’d say a bit less,” Deaky said. “But Aylesbury is a smaller town; so pretty similar proportionally.”

“Thank god for your nerdy interjections.” Roger quipped, his third cigarette of the hour dangling from his lips. He didn’t voice it, but he was nervous too. They all were; the crowds seemed utterly enraptured by them but also completely confused. Freddie insisted they didn’t understand the music, Roger uncaringly added how everyone probably just thought they were gay.

Ken, a roadie, peeked his head around a corner, untangling some amp cords that had been severed from so many people stepping over the once durable lines. “Okay, they fixed the light fixtures and the bass amp is all good. Break a leg, kids.” He winked, his fingers tapping along the cracked drywall where his hand was splayed.

“Kenny, you’re barely older than Deaky.” Roger leaned forward, aiming his ashes over an opened guitar case stuffed with broken wires and busted amps.

“Your guitar tuned, Bri?” Deaky mentioned, recalling how some of his notes were sharp in rehearsals. Brian was a perfectionist, and one wrong note would hover over him for the entirety of the tour. And sensing how much he was longing for you, he thought it would be for the best to remind him.

Brian nodded, giving John a tense thumbs-up. “All good. I figured out a string was a bit thin.”

And then, as quick as they could take their next breath, tainted with heavy cigarette smoke and the suffocating, pungent adrenaline wafting through the air, they were on. Green lights faded into blues and back again as they played. To the outside eye, Queen was perfect--the embodiment and professional manifestation of hundreds and hundreds of hours of fluid practice. Inside, they looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders and hoping their glittery makeup would make clear their intentions of making a statement. Looking outwards, Brian looked good, well-practiced, handsome, and effortlessly so. Even he noticed a gaggle of girls batting their heavy black eyelashes at his alluring figure. But on the inside, Brian felt light. Lightheaded and dizzy, his fingers felt a part of a another man, a man who looked much like him. He hoped his detached fingers were falling over the right places on his guitar; all he could hear was his heartbeat becoming irregular, the blood in his body melting downwards and pooling under his feet. He saw Freddie give him a nod; it was his solo. He swallowed the discomfort and buried it in his twisting, pulsing intestines, hoping his mind could convince him that he was okay--that he felt fine.

taglist:

@dannydelay @baebee35 @rogerinascigarette @zvzxs @mercurys-bike@alexfayer @ledger-kaos @ma-ntequilla @discodeakky @richiethotzierz@thisloveisreal1 @heartsarecompatible @thelondondreamer5 @brian-may-brian-may @okqueenie @gailymlee @trickster-may @bubblypenguin123@queensdarlingg @soloosunflower @dvndermifflinassociate @fredthelegend@miez-lakatz @arrowswithwifi @mouse507 @mespetitestortues@yourstateofdreaming @pamoreno @helenathe3rd @allie-of-asgard @deacytits@hystericallyqueen @missqueeniewrites @paper-queer-plane @silvver-rose @crazylittlethingcalleddub-step @blushy-monkey @ladycataztrophe@myfairybrian @ladylannisterxo @70sthetic @herewegoagainniall @mazzelloh@dreamer821 @man-johnnie @attatchment-issues @headlongedmaggiemay@wonderless-screwup @fixedonroger @gogogolilqueenie @bleuoystercult@wonderless-screwup @josephmozzerllaswife @loveofmychips (message me if you want to be added!!)

(i can’t believe i forgot the whole ass taglist last night... oops)

#Brian May #brian may x reader #brian may fanfic #Queen #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor #John Deacon #freddie mercury

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fandom-feline · 5 years

Text

Something Revolutionary ~~ Five x Reader

Prompt: Hello! I’ve never requested anything like this before, but I trust you to truly deliver lol :)) Would it be possible to write something along the lines of the reader giving Five like a small present or something? I feel like he’s never actually gotten presents from anyone before and it just seems like a good, fluffy idea. Thanks, love!!

Request for: anon

A/N: this is hella long but I wanted to focus on detail more. Anyway, this idea thrilled me, so I spent a Hecc ton of time working on it!! Probably spent too much time on this ahhh!! I really resonated with this one for some reason, and I like the ending! I might end up rewriting it because I had a different ending but I didn’t like the direction it was going in so I changed it to this one, but this one also has some stuff I’d change, but it’s too late now since it’s already posted! Also, let me know if y’all wanna be added to my tag list, because I’m happy to add you!

Tag List: @fivescoffee-cup

Requests: open!!

Character Count: 8715

Word Count: 1630

The thin thread tied to your tiny needle was wound through the brown fabric of your project. Back and forth. The consistent pattern was both soothing and anxiety inducing. First off, due to the repetitive nature of seeing by hand, it became natural and swift after a while. However, one wrong stitch, one mistake, the whole project was ruined.

You were new at sewing, as in, you taught yourself how to do it merely a few hours prior. With books, YouTube, and the old sewing kit you found stashed away in a closet, you set yourself to work. Your fingers were covered in band-aids, which you had placed after stabbing yourself accidentally by your sewing needle countless times. You knew, however, that it would all be worth it in the end. This wasn’t some ordinary burst of inspiration or need for a new skill, as you were making something for someone very special.

The desk lamp that was lit on your desk felt like the scorching sun in the desert. The rest of your room was dark and cool, but the lamp illuminated your work. A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, and you stuck your tongue out with a mixture of concentration and indignation. You were almost done with the main backstitch.

Just one last stitch... and you suddenly let out a cry of pain. You sucked your pointer finger in response because you stabbed it once more with your needle. You knew there was some kind of tool that looked like a miniature basket, a thimble, that was used to prevent your needle from poking you, but you failed to find one in your old sewing kit.

Finally, you folded the sewn fabric the right way, and you saw the project. It was a small cat with black buttons as the eyes and a black tie and a white shirt collar that were both made out of felt. The cat also had felt eyebrows, set to an angry expression, and a frown. It was meant to be the boy you were making it for, who you had a crush on. Five, but as a cat. The stitches were messy and loose in some places, but you filled your project with stuffing anyway. You thought it was adorable, just like Five.

You finally finished the cat, and you glanced at the clock. It was way passed midnight. It felt as though just looking at the time made you feel exhausted. You quickly pulled out the tiny box you got for the gift and placed the sewn cat inside of it. Then, as if immediately falling asleep, you landed in your soft bed.

The next day was uneventful. You planned on giving your gift to Five in the evening, which meant a whole day of anxiety and nerves. You kept the little box with you throughout the day, unsure if Five would spontaneously appear, and you certainly didn’t want to miss the opportunity to give your gift to him.

You were at the sink, washing the dishes. The box for the plush cat was sitting on the counter, as if taunting you, saying you should just throw it away and not give anything to Five. What if Five didn’t like the gift? What if he gets angry at you? All sorts of insecurities started swirling inside your brain.

Suddenly, there was a flash of blue light. “Y/n!! You won’t believe the kind of news I have!!”

You screeched at the top of your lungs, turning around wildly and flinging a soapy plate in the direction of the voice. The person ducked, and the plate shattered against the wall.

“Good God, y/n! It’s just me!”

Clutching your chest, panting rapidly, you said “Five! You could’ve given me a heart attack!”

He stood up straight as you calmed down. “I wanted to tell you, I have to show you something! Come on!”

You looked at him in confusion, studying his face. His blue eyes were soft, but bright. Five’s overall atmosphere seemed excited. He wore his school uniform, which made you smile because you were reminded of the little cat you made him. Maybe this was the right time to give it to him. His brown hair, which was swept over to the side, had gone slightly askew as he teleported and had flatware chucked at him.

You blushed slightly, looking at his handsome complexion. You quickly felt a rush of foreboding crash over you. What was Five going to tell you? Would he confess his undying love for you? Would he say he’s had a crush on you? Part of you hoped this was the case, but the other hoped it was all in your head. You looked back at the small box, and you grabbed it before taking hold of Five’s hand. With a blue flash of light, you instantaneously appeared in his room.

The green walls were covered in equations and numbers and incomprehensible scribbles. Five leapt up onto his springy bed, fixated on his math. He grabbed a piece of chalk off of a nearby shelf and started writing. He seemed to be scratching on the surface rapidly and with urgency.

“So what’s going on?” You held your breath, watching him nervously.

“I was going to tell you that I’m super close to finishing this major mathematical problem to could be revolutionary! It could be able to fix my difficulties with time travel. This could fix any possible problem I have with special jumps. Hopefully I won’t get stuck in the future like before! All I have to do is carry over this last variable and—“

“Could you, just stop talking about math for a second?” You cut Five off. You felt a flurry of anger and sadness. “I-I recognize that this math is important to you and I totally and completely support that, but can’t you take a break for a moment?”

Five turned around, squinting at you. “What’s wrong?” There was an edge of defensiveness in his voice. He pointed back at his wall with the piece of chalk. “This is a discovery that can’t just be set down for any other task, regardless of its relevancy!”

“I get that, but I made you something.” You showed him the small box. “I spent almost all of last night making it. I was going to give it to you this evening, but I decided to give it to you now.”

Five jumped down from his bed and over to you. He looked at the box, then back up at you, a frown etched across his face. He grabbed the box, slightly forceful. He opened the lid and looked inside. Carefully, he pulled out the brown cat with its shirt collar and black tie. The stitches were still messy and loose, the eyes were still buttons, and the eyebrows were still arched into an angry expression. You couldn’t read Five’s reaction.

“I made it, last night,” You repeated. “It’s meant to be you, but as a cat. See, it’s brown. It also has your tie and the collar of your shirt. I would’ve added your full uniform, but I don’t really know much about sewing, so I didn’t know how. I also made it angry, because you get angry easily. You yelled at Klaus the other day because he accidentally smudged some of your chalk,” you smiled slightly. “Anyway, I thought it was a cute idea. Even if you don’t like it, I know it was probably a stupid thing to spend all last night on, but, I don’t know—“

Five swiftly pulled you into a tight hug. He squeezed you so tight that you heard your back pop. His embrace seemed to cause you to melt, and you wrapped your arms around him to return the hug. It seemed to last forever, until the handsome boy finally let you go. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and he was smiling.

“No one has ever made me a gift before,” He stated simply, his eyes watering. “I’m sorry I was so distracted with my math. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes again with time travel. I’ve never really even received a gift before,” he blinked away tears. “Thank you.”

“I...” you didn’t really know what to say, and his reaction was far beyond any you would have expected. “I also wanted to say,” you paused for a long moment, your heart thumping rapidly in your chest.

“What?”

“I know you get easily distracted, and I know you can get angry. But that’s all fine. It really is. I just have to be patient. The truth is,” you studied his wonderful, beautiful face, your cheeks turning pink. “I like you a lot. Like, like like you. I don’t know if that’s not what you feel in return, but either way, that’s okay. I appreciate your company, and it’s all I think about. That’s why I made you that gift. If you’ll just look,” you turned the cat slightly in Five’s hand, showing him a particularly messy stitch that caused the seam to open. You showed him a felt heart you stuffed inside of the plush. “Because I know you have a heart, even if you’re angry. And I have a heart too, and I don’t know, maybe our hearts go together.”

You were both silent for a moment. Your eyes were fixed on the ground. Oh no. Five didn’t like you back. That’s why he wasn’t saying anything. You looked over at him slowly, but you were surprised to see that he was smiling. He was staring at you, his eyes filled with warmth.

“So,” Five began, your heart jumping to your throat, “I think this could be the start of something revolutionary.”

You smiled.

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pinkevilbobdoesthings · 5 years

Text

So who wants fluff of Caleb Widogast taking care of his shapeshifting girlfriend? Just me? Posting it anyways. Here’s “Someone I Really Could Care For”.

________________________________________

The facts were these: Caleb Widogast had a girlfriend, Caleb Widogast loved his girlfriend very much, and once a month, Caleb Widogast’s girlfriend would turn into a monster. Most people would say that the least believable fact was that Caleb Widogast actually had a girlfriend, and to be fair to them, Caleb Widogast did not appear to be the dating type, but this does not change the facts. Caleb Widogast would argue that his girlfriend did not turn into a monster as that would imply that she was cruel, horrible, and frightening which she was not no matter what she looked like, but Caleb Widogast was incredibly biased. His girlfriend, Jester Lavorre, didn’t mind being called a monster because she thought it sounded cool.

Most days for them were those of a normal couple. They would have dates, fights, make-ups, and make-outs. Though, they would also have to plan around the full moon (Caleb Widogast liked to point out that Jester Lavorre was not a lycanthrope. The night she transformed just happened to overlap with the full moon).

Caleb Widogast would not change his girlfriend a single bit if he was given the opportunity to(there are many, many things Caleb Widogast would change about his life if given the chance, but that’s a completely different story and something he should really discuss with a licensed therapist).

****

Caleb knocked on the door of his girlfriend’s apartment while balancing two large paper bags full of supplies for the night. Jester kept saying he could just come in, but it felt wrong not to knock. After a long moment, Beau opened the door with Jester wrapped around her. “Finally,” Beau said rolling her eyes. “She won’t let go of me.”

Jester’s eyes brightened when she saw Caleb and instantly let go of Beau. “Caleb!” She hugged him tightly and nuzzled his neck. Her eyes were cloudy like she was miles away from him

“Halo, liebling,” Caleb said pressing a kiss on her forehead. He managed to pass the bags to Beau who put them on the coffee table. “How are you today?” he asked Jester.

She just smiled and snuggled more into him. “Caleb.” Barely verbal, he noted mentally. That meant there was most likely less than a half hour left before she changed.

“Better you than me,” Beau said while patting Jester’s head. “You got everything you need, right? Cause if I have to run out and get anything for you again, you’ll owe me.”

“I’ve got everything we need.” Caleb pointed at the bags.

Beau gave him a mock salute. “I’ll leave you to it then.” And she went to her room.

Caleb looked back down at Jester. “You’ll need to let go of me if I’m to move.”

She frowned up at him, but Jester loosened her grip of him while not quite letting go.

“I suppose that will do for now.” With Jester acting as his cute shadow, Caleb laid his silver wire in front of the door and activated his alarm spell. Once he finished, Jester hummed at him softly and dragged him to the cough. Even if he could’ve resist(Caleb Widogast was not a strong man), he wouldn’t have.

Once they were comfortably curled up on the couch, Caleb pulled a smaller paper bag out of one bag and a book from the other. Jester started pulling on his arm when she smelled the bag. “Soon enough, soon enough,” Caleb said as he carefully opened the bag and counted the contents. He pulled out a pastry and passed it to her. “One.” She gleefully gobbled it up and looked at Caleb with big puppy eyes. “Yes, these are all for you, but we are not having a repeat of the time you ate them too quickly and got sick. Two.” Caleb gave her another pastry. Transforming into anything took a lot of energy and calories and, in Jester’s case, baked goods. Fortunately, Caleb had a deal with the local bakery for their day-old pastries ever since the Mighty Nein cleared out bunch of diseased rats from the bakery’s basement. But Caleb would’ve been willing to pay more for them since they made Jester so happy on a rough night.

“Three. Are you ready for the continuation of ‘Tusk Love’?” he asked. Jester nodded and he had to fight back a sigh. While it wasn’t the worst book Caleb had ever read, this was the fourth time Jester had him read it to her. “Alright, ‘Guinevere clung to Oskar like a wet negligee. “Oh, Oskar,” she said breathily.’ Four.”

After a chapter and three more pastries finishing off the bag, Jester stiffened and got up slowly. It was time. Caleb quickly got up and helped her up. She went over to an empty spot and shrugged him off curling up on the floor. Grabbing a blanket off the couch, he threw it over her and covered her with it. Jester hated to transform alone, but she didn’t want anyone to watch her shifting either. He had missed part of her tiefling hand, but before Caleb could cover it, the transformation had started.

A high pitched whine came from under the blanket, and Jester’s hand scratched at the floor. This was always the hardest part of the night. Caleb knew he wasn’t supposed to watch any part of it, but he couldn’t look away as her hand twitched and strained. It slowly became thicker and larger as the fingers appeared to get shorter. Thick, blue fur sprouted on her hand and her fingernails turned into dark claws that scratched the floor. Another whine came from Jester, but this one was much lower and richer. Her hand was now a paw, but she was no longer clawing the floor.

Jester didn’t move under the blanket even though the transformation was clearly over now. Caleb turned on the music on his phone and selected a song by Jester’s mom. After the first song finished, the blanket shifted and Jester poked her head out. The first few times Caleb saw her like this, he could hardly recognize Jester, but now he couldn’t help but see all the similarities. Sure, her hair had become a thick mane, her curled horns were much larger, and all of her teeth were now razor sharp, but Jester’s eyes never changed and, despite the cruel teeth, it was still her mischievous smile. “Halo, liebling,” Caleb said kissing her fuzzy forehead. She nuzzled the side of his head and shook off the rest of her blanket her large lion like form. There was a stumble when she tried walk still a bit woozy from her transformation. “Careful. Here, let me get something for you.”

Caleb grabbed the other paper bag and pulled out two stuffed toys that were supposedly identical at one point, but one was torn to shreds and barely holding its shape, and the other was, while well loved, in much better condition and smelled of lavender. Both plushes looked like a man in a green robe with the hood obscuring his face. “Which one would you like today?”

Jester nosed the one that smelled of lavender. Caleb sighed with relief while she began to cuddle with it. The other one usually meant that her transformation was particularly painful that night. He kept the music on the playlist of Jester’s mom’s greatest hits(as according to Jester Lavorre) and pulled out a hairbrush and some ribbons. “Which color today?” he asked holding out the ribbons. She pawed at the pink one. “Good choice.”

Caleb counted each stroke as he brushed her hair careful not to hit her horns. Then came the biggest test of the night - braiding her hair. In theory it should’ve been simple; it was a pattern after all. He was good with patterns especially repetitive ones. But he’d always find himself turned around and tangled up and somehow losing half the hair from the braid. Each time he was determined that this would be the time he mastered braiding and each time he was proven wrong. Eventually he finished a crooked, little braid that he thought didn’t look completely terrible and tied the pink ribbon around it. Grabbing his cellphone, he took a picture of Jester and showed it to her. “How’s that?”

Jester gave him an unimpressed look, but nuzzled him anyways.

“I don’t need your pity,” he said hugging her back.

“Hey, need any help?” Beau asked leaning against the wall.

Caleb shook his head. “No, we’re good. You don’t need to worry about us.”

Beau raised an eyebrow. “I have a hard time believing that. Now, scoot over.” She sat down next to him and quickly undid the braid Caleb had worked so hard on. After brushing Jester’s hair out again, Beau expertly french braided Jester’s hair and added the ribbon as a fine pink bow. “This is my darkest secret. Dont-”

“I ever dare tell anyone about it,” Caleb finished for her as he took a picture of it and showed it to Jester. She was much happier with this braid showing her contentment with purring and rubbing against Beau nearly knocking her over.

“Ack! Jes.” Beau tried to be stern but a smile poked out of the corner of her mouth. Jester continued to lean into Beau. “Alright, I’ve had enough of this. You’re on your own Caleb.”

Jester whined as Beau started to leave. “Come on,” Caleb said trying to catch Jester’s attention. “Couch time.” Which were apparently the magic words as Jester immediately perked up and went to the couch and impatiently shifted from paw to paw doing an excited little dance. Caleb chuckled as he got up and grabbed a paper bag out of the first bag.

The next part took a little bit of psyching up for Caleb. He loved his girlfriend no matter what form or size she was(some would say that since Jester Lavorre was a little chubby she needed to lose weight, but these people are known as jerks and should not be listened to), but her more monstrous form was easily twice as large as she was as a tiefling and was over 300 pounds. Caleb braced himself as he sat down and Jester pounced into his lap. Only her front legs and a little bit of her head fitted on his lap, but it was still heavy and Caleb was a little sore at first. Jester purred loudly though and it made everything worth it.

Caleb opened the paper bag and pulled out two pastries from it. “One, two.” Despite her incredibly sharp teeth, Jester delicately took the pastries from him and carefully ate them. He sometimes wondered if she had better manners in this form. As Jester ate her pastries, Caleb grabbed Zemnian Nights to read to her. It seemed to be her favorite on full moons, and Caleb wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he liked it much more than Tusk Love. “Let’s see, when we last left off, Sigmund had just left the auction house having spent all his money on a flower bulb for Drica. Three. Let’s see if he can not get attacked by street thugs this read through. Four. ‘Sigmund could not believe his luck. What he could not believe was whether it was good or bad.’”

Reading to Jester when she was like this was Caleb’s favorite part of the full moon. There was no tension or dread as the roughest part for Jester had already passed and it was just them and a book. It wasn’t as good as a normal day, but there was still a soft contentment to it. If this was going to be what the rest of their lives were going to be like, Caleb could accept it.

Somewhere during their third chapter, Jester drifted asleep and Caleb followed her not long after(Caleb Widogast can and has scientifically proven that the best sleep comes from having a large, lion-like girlfriend sleep in your lap).

Caleb woke up to a gentle headbut. Jester was making soft whimpering sounds and looked very anxious. “Time for you to change back?” he asked even though he already knew the answer. She gently grabbed his hand in her mouth, dragged him to her blanket, and curled into a tight ball next to it. He shook out the blanket and covered her with it again.

Fortunately, the process of turning back into her normal self was an easier one for her, though Jester still didn’t like anyone to watch it. After a moment, the lump under the blanket shrank and Jester the tiefling came out from under it smiling. “Caleb!” Her eyes were bright and he could tell that she was there with him.

Caleb kissed her forehead softly. “Halo, liebling.”

_________________________

The title of the fic comes from the song Blue Moon and is a reference to the transformation scene from An American Werewolf in London(if horror is your thing I recommend this film).

I hope you liked this.

#widojest #critical role fan fiction #pinkevilbob writes

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katzuyas · 5 years

Text

I was tagged for a few things still back in 2018, so let’s get these out here to have a clean slate for 2019 and tag some lovely peeps along the way!

tagged by @kazul9

to post the last sentence from a wip, and here it is!

" [...] You're free to get yourself a nice corner of the house and make those love notes come true."

this is from SSS which was supposed to be my christmas smut fic, but I got so busy I never managed to finish it in time for the holidays //sighs regretfully maybe next christmas!

WIP title meme game

tagged by @kanzaki19 and @and-then-yoi-happened

The Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Pick out the title that most intrigues you, or interests you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

Gardenia's Gathering of Roses

dazzle me with gold

believe in the heart, for tomorrow

samovar

SSS

Apollo (which I will probably never finish rip)

as for one that intrigues me most... that would be probably dmwg but I won't share that bc it's been too long and I need to get back to writing it soon-ish, so instead have a little bit of Apollo, for the unsung fic that will never find its conclusion:

Victor felt his mask slip on the sweat caking his face and a single thought had him reach back to untie the strings holding it in place. He was stopped halfway, though.

"Don't," hot mouth whispered into his ear and he'd listened, spellbound.

"You don't want to know who I am?" Victor turned his head to capture that mouth, but he'd missed, nuzzling against the soft velvet of the man's mask instead. "I want to know who you are, too. Will you tell me?"

Clumsy fingers sunk into Victor's hair, brushing through it, while amused dark eyes looked into his as if the man already knew. And he had, which should've spiked caution in Victor, but he was too far gone by that time to care about anything else other than the subtle quirk of the lips that he couldn't forget the taste of.

"Who could ever mistake you for anyone else, Victor?" the man asked, caressing Victor's jaw with his thumb in a way that made Victor lift his chin up like a puppy begging for scratches.

Teeth scraped over the column of his throat like a promise of something Victor desperately wanted with a force that surprised even himself. He swallowed hard, feeling how the man's lips caught on his Adam's apple as it moved, and blessing the second his eyes fell on the guy's ugly tie.

"I'm a little bit at a disadvantage here." Victor smiled, pushing his own hand into the man's hair: clumped with gel, messy, but no less divine. "You seem to know me, but I still don't know anything about you."

"You know I can dance," the man said. He gyrated his hips against Victor's as if to prove his point and Victor greedily pulled him closer. "You know how my body looks like under these clothes," the man was talking while they shifted against each other. "You know how my lips taste like."

Dark eyes looked at Victor, mischievous, and Victor was powerless against the force of his want. He dipped his head down and stole another kiss, a brief, short one, just enough to make him hungry for more.

"Your name," Victor begged, chasing after the man's lips when he swayed away with the music. "Just that. I promise I won't ask anything else."

There were fingers on Victor's tie, undoing the knot, undoing the buttons of his shirt, undoing his self-control. When he opened his mouth to ask once more, the man lifted the expensive fabric of Victor's Armani tie and wrapped it around his head, akin to his own, another crown on another god. Leaning closer, the man smooshed their cheeks together hard enough that their masks shifted. He laughed into Victor's ear, drunk on delight.

"Now we match," he told Victor while he completely ignored his question.

If it was a hint that he would get no answers from the man at all, Victor knew when to take it. He sighed quietly. Rubbing his nose into the side of the guy's head, he got a whiff of the distinct stink of alcohol and sweat, but that gave him absolutely no clues. Victor wrapped his arms around the body pressed so tightly against him that he could feel each breath and thrum of the heart beating to the music, which threatened to have swallowed them both if Victor hadn't allowed the man to steal all of his attention first.

He would've caved and given up on finding who the man was, content enough to have him for this one night of life and love, but the soft, barely audible words spoken into his jaw rejuvenated the hope inside him.

"I've dreamed of you all my life."

A simple sentence like that should've made him uneasy, should've made Victor step back and away, and run for the hills, but it didn't. It made him sway them to the music and say back:

"You've got me now."

And that was his mistake, it seemed.

The man pulled out of his embrace, eyes downcast and mouth a wry smile. Before Victor could take his words back, explain, correct himself, anything, there were lips on his own and then–

–he was gone.

The man disappeared into the mass of bodies around them like a ghost, like smoke into thin air, only leaving the memory of his lips against Victor's and an empty ache inside his heart. Which Victor was not about to take.

He tore through the crowd, only catching the sight of the ugly tie disappear behind another group of people. Victor knew he shouldn't, but something inside him called for the other man, urged him to follow him, and he was powerless to resist it... so he did it anyway. He tore his mask off, dropping it to the floor without a care, and without the obstacle to slow him down he caught him – right when the lighting in the club shifted, the vibrant colours playing off of the fear, regret and beautiful, striking longing in the man's dark eyes.

"Where are you going?" Victor asked, holding the other's wrist lightly enough that he could pull away if he truly wanted.

He didn't.

But he didn't answer either.

Simply turned his head away, the blue of his mask telling Victor how close he was to drowning in the ocean of his own despair.

"How am I supposed to find you again?" Victor asked once more. He wanted. He needed. Pleas–

"The whole point of a masquerade is to stay anonymous, isn't it?" the man said, finally looking at Victor again. He stepped closer, lifting his hand as if to touch Victor's face, but hesitated and let it drop. "You aren't."

Victor felt like his heart was being pierced by a thousand golden spears made up of all the medals he'd won over the years. Was his fame the reason? His media persona? His hand shook where he was still holding onto the man's wrist, but he refused to let go. Not until he tells him to.

"Is there really no chance I could change your mind?"

The man bit his lip, seemingly at a dissonance with himself, and then lurched forward to join their lips together in a kiss that was not only hinted with Victor's desperation, but also the man's own longing. Losing sense faster than he could control, Victor blinked dazedly when the man pulled away too soon. Dark eyes looked into Victor's with something sweet, something fragile, that Victor did not dare call adoration.

"If you can find me, you can try," the man said, his thumb swiping over the plush of Victor's bottom lip.

Swallowing hard, Victor spoke, aware of how his mouth moved around the man's finger. "But how? How do I find you?"

"You're Victor Nikiforov." The man smirked at him, confident, sexy, playful, and with complete faith in what he was saying, added: "If anyone can do it, it's you."

And Victor realized that this was another challenge that he was issued. To keep him on his toes, to make him work for it, to keep his interest going – and going it was. It was only right that to keep a god, he was to go to incredible lengths. Feeling his heart beat so much faster, Victor smiled.

He was ready for this.

First Sentences Game

tagged by @iwritebetterthanispeak

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten published stories. note if there are any patterns yourself and see if anyone else notices any! tag ten friends!

I'm going to go with ao3 only since those are the fics I actually do any sort of editing and concrete writing for, so let's go!

A single rose, red like the setting sun that bleeds though the branches of a tree outside a window of a loveless man's house, by all means should look lonely. – from red, for love triumphant

If Yuuri wasn't so used to Phichit's phone going off constantly, he probably would've jumped when the thing came to life in his friends' hands. – from draped in your love, I breathe

"A little shorter in the back maybe," Victor says, looking into the mirror that Lucien is holding behind his head. – from thread your needle through my heart

Everyone knows who Victor Nikiforov is. – from dazzle me with gold

There's an elegant line to Victor's nape when he bows his head over the small piece of paper with jumps and combinations scrawled onto it in a confusing sequence of symbols that no one other than a figure skating junkie could decipher. – from pulchritudinous

"The Garden of Tears, they call it," the old healer says. – from Everlasting

"How about we just take the popular vote and give Yuuri his gold already?" Victor sighs as they all watch Yuuri Katsuki make his way around the ice before the start of his free skate. – from together, we're golden

There is nothing worse, Victor thinks as he shakes the already wheezing bottle of conditioner, than being empty. – from what living feels like

St. Petersburg is... dark. – from lighter, better, fuller

Standing at gunpoint in his own bathroom, of all places, with hands still under the lukewarm stream of tap water, Yuuri imagined there were worse ways to start the day. – from a black heart of gold

the patterns I see are mostly in titles bc wow all the lowercase really got to me huh? lmao also very dramatic and almost all of them are from some song or another, so I'm very obvious in that department.

as for the actual first lines... I do tend to start my fics either in the middle of some action/scene/conversation or it's a statement of fact, which I then agree or disagree with and try to prove to the readers. the first one, I've found, definitely works better to get people involved faster!

I also tend to put the first names of the characters whose pov I use in the first line, if I can, to help people figure out whose voice to read with

these are all writing tags so I will tag you for all, one, or whichever of these you prefer! @accioharo, @belovedyuuri, @gabzjones, @louciferish, @lilithsins, @joeys-piano, @victuurikatsu, @dreaming-fireflies, @teekettle, and @postingpebbles

have fun, if you wish, and if not then feel free to forget this ever happened 😉 I hope you have an amazing, productive and inspiring new year!!! ❤️❤️❤️

#tag games #my fic #there's a little snippet of a masquerade au in here which I wrote waaaay back but which I never posted so you might want to read?#honestly I feel kind of tempted to finish it #hmmm #should I?#🤔🤔🤔

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magicaldelicacy · 6 years

Photo

Lillie from Pokémon Sun and Pokémon Moon

Costume made and worn by me. Photo taken at Anime NebrasKon 2017 by @mizfitrosephotos.

After Pokémon X and Y came out, I decided to cosplay Valerie almost immediately. Her design spoke to me directly, and even though she was a minor character, I was incredibly excited to cosplay her. I didn't expect Sun and Moon to hit me with the same determination, but it did. I was completely won over by Lillie. Her scenes were all so cute, and I loved following her journey through the game. I knew that I had to cosplay her and started working on the costume the last week of 2016.

First, you may be wondering how I made the hat. Well, I already wrote a bit about that here: http://magicaldelicacy.tumblr.com/post/157405685753/ In short, its shape comes from some wire and a lot of fusible stabilizer. It was actually the last part of the costume that I made, but I thought that I should mention it first since it's probably the most interesting part.

The dress was really fun to pattern. I've made a number of dresses before, but because Lillie's is divided so distinctively into six equal segments, the seams ended up being in places that I wasn't used to, and I largely had to start from scratch. I also used interfacing on the entire dress, which was something that I hadn't done on such a large scale before.

The white fabric used for the dress and hat is peachskin, and the pale blue fabric is organza. The organza is backed with a layer of the peachskin in places where it needed to be opaque (collar and sock tops) and is by itself where it needed to be more transparent (bottom of dress and ribbon on hat). The blue decorations at the bottom of each of the six dress segments as well as the ones on the top and bottom of the hat are pieces of vinyl which I cut out, painted blue, and glued on. I used the same blue fabric paint on the shoes, then painted the white designs on top. The socks, minus the blue tops, were purchased. I also made a new petticoat for this dress, since it needed to be short enough to not be seen through the transparent blue at the bottom of the dress, but it's a simple tulle skirt with no hoop or anything fancy.

The bag is an official product from Pokémon Center. There was no official Cosmog plush at the time that I made the costume, so unfortunately there was no actual Nebby in the bag. Instead, I stuffed it with a bunch of fiberfill that I had lying around to help it keep its shape.

I had just received a new wig head as a gift shortly before starting this costume, so I enjoyed trying it out by styling Lillie's hair. I had never learned to braid hair before this (I would have needed to for Sonia, but that braid was in the wig when I bought it). The base wig is an Arda Venus in Pale Blonde with two clip-in extensions that I used for the braids.

I had a lot of fun being Lillie, especially with other Pokémon cosplayers. Even when I was on my own, though, lots of people complimented me on my hat or joked about what was in my bag. Transporting the hat to cons was a little awkward, and I would probably try to add a side zipper if I was to make the dress again, but everything else about cosplaying Lille was a joy!

#my costumes #cosplay #anime nebraskon #pokemon #lillie

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cosplaytutorial · 7 years

Note

I could use a little advice, if possible. I very much want to get into cosplay, but I don't even know where to begin. There are characters I love, but I don't understand how to convincingly pull off these characters, so have no idea how to choose one. I can't make anything because my skillset doesn't go farther than the most basic repair work, and the premade stuff I've found is pretty expensive. I see makeup tutorials and end up completely baffled, so I'm kind of lost.

Hello there!

First of all, you don’t have to choose a character because you think you can pull it off, regardless of what you mean by that. Want to do an outfit but don’t have sewing skills? You can always learn and practice (or put off the costume until you’ve built up your skills more). Think you don’t look like a character? You don’t have to look like the character. If you want to wear the outfit but don’t look like them, then ignore that. The only time it matter is your personal comfort -- if you don’t feel right doing a character you don’t look like, you should let your comfort take priority, but if you don’t want to do a character because you aren’t as thin, attractive, pale, whatever else as them, don’t worry about those things. this isn’t a lookalike contest, it’s cosplay. It’s for fun. (Examples of being personally uncomfortable would be things like how I recently did a fem version of a character because I knew I’d be uncomfortable with the fact that I wouldn’t pass as a teenage boy in spandex -- still did the character, but I changed some things so I’d be comfortable with it. But if I did cosplay, let’s say, a beefy man like Joseph Joestar, and was comfortable with it and enjoyed it, despite being scrawny, no one should have a problem with that. Your own feelings about your cosplay are what matters. If I did that and someone said something about my size and apparent gender not matching the character’s? That’s not someone I’d want in my life. their opinion doesn’t matter. As long as you aren’t outright being a jerk and harming others, no one has any right to tell you that you are having fun wrong, and you always have the power of the block button if they do.)

The thing with a hobby like cosplay is that we all have to start somewhere. No one is going to go from not being able to sew to pulling out masters-level costumes overnight. Building up a lot of these skills involves a lot of practice and dedication.

That said, you don’t have to make your costumes. You always start somewhere. Are there any characters where you can modify storebought or thrifted items? That’s a great way to get started with cosplay, and you can still dress in costume, but you don’t have to worry about making some complicated. Do you want to learn to sew? Choosing a simple outfit that you can find a pattern for (things like schoolgirl uniforms are great for this) can really help, since it gives you instructions on how to make the item, and you can build up your skills with easier garments and work your way up. If you have money for premade or commissions, that’s great, but if you don’t, you can do a lot on your own for very cheap if you know how to shop sales or can get items at a thrift store. With luck, a good eye for sales, using items from your closet (shoes are the big expense here), and often a little bit of skill (such as dyeing a piece or cutting and rehemming a piece or adding some decoration), you can make an entire cosplay for $15. I’ve done it.

For building up your skillset, it’s all about practice. Find a very basic makeup tutorial and try following it, step by step. Do it every day, or twice a day, until you master the techniques. Try another one. A lot of tutorials assume that you have at least some basic skills in the area that the tutorial is for, but you can find tutorials that explain every step. For sewing, start with something very simple, like a pillowcase, if you need to. You don’t /need/ these skills, though, unless you /want/ to make your cosplays. Often, however, due to cost and availability (or costumes, of sizes, etc.), you end up needing to make something yourself if you want it at all, or else pay a commissioner. It sounds like making is the path you want to go down, though, and this can include both making from scratch and altering pre-existing items.

It’s hard, but don’t compare yourself to anyone but yourself when it comes to this kind of thing. You just started, you don’t need to be an expert yet. No one was born an expert, which is why things like tutorials exist -- people are often more than willing to share their knowledge. If you don’t understand a step in a tutorial, ask. Don’t compare yourself with someone who has been cosplaying for 15 years and works in the costuming industry and has the free time, money, and experience to pull out amazing costume after amazing costume. Do you know what they were doing 15 years ago? Probably starting on their first project, like a simple skirt or a pillowcase or a plush toy. Certainly messing up. Certainly learning from those mistakes as they went. You have the advantage of building on a lot of that knowledge that is now being shared in the community (and so many more materials and resources!), but there’s no substitute for trying something yourself and learning from that. Don’t be afraid to fail. You often learn more from mistakes than from successes.

As for how to start on costumes, it really helps to take things step by step, a little bit at a time. Look at one item first, rather than the overwhelming whole. Look at one part of that item. Start there. You’ll be far less baffled if you think of it as one small piece, rather than an entire costume. For tutorials, break them down as well. What are they doing in this step, exactly? Can you mimic that? Try it, over and over.

I also have a Powerpoint on how to choose and plan cosplays here.

Cosplay is a hobby. It should be fun, not an overwhelming stress. I would say to take it slow, choose something simple at first, build up whatever skills you are trying to build (whether that is sewing, armor, makeup, or even bargain shopping), take your time with your projects, and enjoy wearing them, even if they aren’t something that’s going to be winning a contest any time soon. Be proud that you made that. Be proud that you can show off your fandom in that way. Meet new fans. Build up your skills. And keep having fun with it. There’s no wrong way to be a fan.

I hope that helps! :]

—Fabrickind / Q&A Staff

#cosplay positivity #cosplay planning #cosplay 101 #asks #cosplay #fabrickindfriday #anon

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aureus-ignis · 6 years

Text

When I was young, I fell in love with the Pokemon series. I loved the RBY and GSC games, I watched the anime on TV every weekend, bought the movies, played the TCG, and collected the PokeSpe manga zealously. But as the years went by, the newer Pokemon games failed to hold my interest, and I soon stopped following Pokemon entirely. Last year, the generation of Alola was announced, and after watching a few trailers, I found myself drawn to the music. The adorable Rowlet also caught my eye, and on top of that, it seemed like the story was going to be interesting. A conservation society full of nice people dressed in white that looked strangely sinister at times? Hell yesssss. So I decided to buy the game... and then I fell deeply in love. Once again I was in Pokemon heaven (or hell).

So when Mei asked me if there was any series we could cos together that'd be fun and simple to do, I suggested Gladion and Lillie, since their costumes are fairly simple (c o u g h). She agreed, and that was the beginning of it all.

I started working on stuff around mid-June this year. People who know me know that accuracy is pretty high on my list of priorities, and I was determined to get the not-very-logical hair of Lillie and Gladion as good as I possibly could. Lillie's problem, of course, was the thickness. She has two insanely fat braids that had to be made up of almost all the hair on a normal human head, yet somehow still has a thick wide mane of loose hair behind her. So I had to spend time wefting as many extra rows of fibre into the wig, and then crafting removable bases for the braids from batting and more wefts.

Testing!

Batting base WIP HAHAHA

And the final result was worth it <3 <3

Next was Gladion. When it comes to the subject of pulled back hair, I've gotten to the point where I can ONLY accept lacefront. Anything else is too fake for me. For me, cosplay has always been about portraying the characters as if they were real, no matter how zany and strange their designs may be. I wanted the hair to look almost as though it grew on me. I ripped out almost the whole front to get rid of the fringe, and sewed in longer wefts, adjusting the direction of the hair to the left so that they would comb back naturally. Then ventilating hell began

Darkness, my old friend, we meet again. ;___; My hooking skills have improved since I first started ventilating, but it's still a long, tedious process. School started before I could finish, and I had to work on everything else too...

The realization that his uncut wig looks like Mercy from Overwatch HAHAHA

But as with Lillie, the final result was worth it <3 <3 <3

With regards to his costume, I'd actually had the hoodie and pants tailored because I ran out of time. I'd wanted just the base made so I can do the rest of the details myself, but the tailor forgot and did everything for me... and ended up messing up the accuracy. It was a disappointment, so much so that after STGCC was over, and we planned to have a shoot at the end of the year... I decided to remake everything from scratch. I'm terrible at patterning, really, and Gladion's biggest problem was THE STUPID GRAVITY DEFYING HOOD. Ultimately I couldn't get it to look exactly like the original (because I didn't want extra seams and all, but it was close enough. And the second time round, all of the holes were in the correct areas HAHAHA.

I'd made his first waistpouch myself, but for some reason, despite my careful measurements, the size turned out far too large the first time. So I had to remake the whole thing a second time. The hardest part is sewing the damn thing together, because I'd had to put two layers of hard inferfacing for each piece and sometimes the needle just wouldn't. Go. Through. OTL In version 2, I had more time, so I paid more attention to getting the shape accurate. The stupid thing tapers towards the bottom and has a curved side. Even more stupid, the strap goes from FAT TO THIN TO FAT for some reason. But I succeeded!

New VS Old

Next was the Z-ring. Gladion's official art doesn't have one, but he obviously wears one in-game. I felt that it was important, because Nanu gave it to him. So I had to dig out references from the game screenshots 8D;;

This is how a lot of my prop drafts look like. ALGEBRA IS MY FRIEND.

Also crafted the Z-crystal thanks to Pythagoras' theorem 8D; I used liquid quartz to glue the clear acrylic sheet together without leaving traces.

Final result! I'm pretty happy with it =>

Before STGCC, there was one more segment that I worked really hard on. After we'd decided to do SuMo together, I thought of making a Nebby plushie for Mei to carry. Yes, Pokemon Center had already released their Nebby plush by then, but... For one, it's smaller than life-size. For another, the shape looks more like a sunflower than a starry cloud. I didn't want it to look like Lillie was just carrying a toy; I wanted to give the impression that Mei had an adorable, soft, beautiful real-life Cosmog. But how on earth would someone with very terrible patterning skills make a 3D cloud plushie that could be dyed for Nebby's distinctive gradient colouring, and still be nice and soft to hug?

The answer is, I struggled.

Set up a spraying booth to airbrush the gradient on. Due to a problem with shipping, I couldn't get my compressor in time, so I ended up having to splurge on compressed air cans, which were horrendously expensive oTL.

BUT LOOK AT THE FINAL RESULT. LOOK AT HIM. <3 <3 <3

Let it also be known that I tested to make sure he could fit inside Mei's bag the moment I finished the base HAHAHAHAHAHAHA-----

So that was part 1 of Project Alola! We went to STGCC together and met lots of Pokemon fans (quite a lot of people were very happy to see Nebby, in particular XD), and Laki offered to come shoot with us as Moon since she already had the costume. We then planned to have our shoot at the end of the year during my holidays.

As mentioned, I'd already planned to remake my entire costume and waistpouch, but aside from that... I had the mad idea that I wanted to make a Silvally prop. It's something I'd considered for STGCC too, but I was really short on time then, and Mei told me to FINISH EVERYTHING ELSE FIRST THEN DO IT IF YOU HAVE TIME.

The problem is... Silvally's official size in the Pokedex is 2.4m. That's 80cm taller than myself. )o) Sure, I could scale him down, make a tiny lap plushie like all the other cosplayers, but what would be the point? Although I'd never cosplayed from the Pokemon series before, I'd always thought that if I were to do so, I'd want to make life-size Pokemon so that it'd look like I actually have a Pokemon partner, and not just a Pokemon toy. But I'd thought then that my projects would be starters like Pikachu or Charmander or Cyndaquil, or maybe one of the Eeveelutions. Not a giant horse-dog like Silvally ^^;;;

I had to consider the fact that my house isn't very big and I'd have barely any space to keep him. I had to consider how I'd be able to transport him, and how to construct him so that I could take him apart. I also had to consider the amount of money I'd be spending on him, because honestly, cosplay is not a cheap hobby. Materials in Singapore are especially expensive. As an unemployed student, I'd be splurging a lot if I decided to go ahead with this crazy project. When I told this to Mei during one of our dinners out, she suggested just making his head and taking halfbody shots so no one can tell that he has nobody. Like a hobby horse, except it's a hobby Silvally.

Good idea.

So when school finished, I started drafting him out, and the basic paper draft itself took like three giant sheets of patterning paper taped together HAHAHA.

The base

Honestly, even though I had an idea of how I'd make him, I wasn't completely sure if it would work. As I've said repeatedly I really, really suck at patterning. I can never seem to envision where to cut darts in a piece of EVA foam to get the shape I want, so half the time I was just taping drafting paper on and folding and taping excess parts off, then that that up for a trial-and-error pattern.

With paper mache and paper draft pattern for the mouth.

That's how large the whole thing is 8D'

Apart from the making of Silvally, I'd also spent time searching for reference pictures and sketching storyboard ideas for our shoot. I went to check out the our shoot location (Sentosa Island) a few weekends back, so that we could decide where exactly we wanted to shoot. In hindsight, there were a lot more shots I could have planned to bring out the personality of our characters more, but oh well ;w;

The shoot itself went pretty well, for the sun was quite kind to us, and hid under clouds for most of the day. Sei's working style is quite different from mine, but she was very gracious and did everything I asked of her. Sakami and Greg were wonderful helpers, and some of my best memories from the day include our hilarious videos, and the shenanigans with the Pokemon.

I've already thanked my wonderful team mates, helpers and photographer in another post, so I won't go into details here. But everyone was very kind and obliging, and listened to all my ambitious plans, allowing me to be a bossy director. I'm very, very grateful to all of them.

So now, a bit of reflection on Silvally, and the whole project.

The patterns for Silvally weren't perfect, and I messed up a lot. The final result was definitely far from what I had hoped for. Most noticeably, the top of the head is bumpy holey because I ran out of gesso to fill and sand. But the proportions also came out a bit off, and the neck piece patterning failed on the right side. But when I finished painting... I felt very, very happy. I'd gotten some small bouts of joy when I finished each stage of the crafting process, when I looked at what I'd done, but looking at the final product was just.... incredible. It wasn't as beautiful as it could have been, and I still regret all the imperfections that are so obvious to my eyes, but....I was so excited. I couldn't wait for the shoot.

Perhaps it was partly because I hadn't really been sure if I'd be able to make things work, so the success tastes that much sweeter. Some of my friends had told me I was crazy. I kept asking myself if I were crazy. All that money and time and pain sunk into a project that I'm not even getting paid for, with a success rate that seemed really low. My mom telling me straight out that I was 'too ambitious'. Was it worth it? Would it have been better to make a smaller, much more perfect prop, than an actual sized, flawed one, with half the effort and money? Cosplay is already an indulgence, but had I crossed the line into foolish waste zone?

When I looked at my completed Silvally, the answer didn't hit me like Mjolnir. I still don't know if it was the right thing to do, or if I was an irresponsible child wasting the money that could have gone into feeding me better food.

But it made me happy. So happy. I nearly cried as I stood there for a few minutes staring at him. He was truly a labour of love. I spent hours spraying gesso and paint because I love Silvally. I spent days sanding until my arms want to fall off and my eyes are dying from dust because I love Gladion. I spent hours cortorted in weird positions with a paintbrush trying desperately to stay within the pencil lines, sweat dripping into my eyes, because I love this art. Sure, the process itself was often painful; I suffered multiple burns from hot glue and a hot iron and cut my fingers open way too many times. I still hate hand-sanding with a burning passion because it's tiring as hell and I get blisters on my oversensitive skin. But the thought that all of the suffering helps to build the final piece of art that I envision makes me grit my teeth and soldier on.

Cosplay is my art, something that I would put 500% of me into. Whether the crafting of insanely large props, or the preparations for the shoot, or the styling of my entire team's wigs, or the endless sewing adventures on plushies.

Because I love it.

#pokemon #my journals

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