#— mint drabbles

[umakemegiddy]

٠ ࣪⭑— "i miss you so bad, i wish you were here with me," you said on the phone as you heard haechan got off the car on the other line. "i know. i miss you too. i was kinda hoping we could celebrate valentine together this year but..." it was your turn to sigh. "it's okay, we're gonna make it up to it when you come back, just promise me." valentine this year was going to be just you... alone, again. it has been a common recurrence for the past years ever since you made it official with haechan. at first it broke your heart to spent 14th February on you own but you understand that your boyfriend has his own responsibility so you already made terms with it long ago. "babe?" "hm?" "have you eaten yet?" you smiled to yourself. even with simple question, your boyfriend's sounded so concerned about your well-being. "no i haven't. maybe i'll just order takeout tonight," "yeah? well that's a good thing because i ordered some food for you. he says he's right in front of your door. why don't you go see?" when you opened the door you were greeted by haechan himself standing there with one hand holding his phone to his ears and the other holding takeouts plastic, smiling so bright at you.

#mint's works #lee haechan #haechan #nct drabbles #nct 127 #nct dream #nct dream haechan #lee donghyuck #haechan soft #haechan fluff #nct dream drabbles #nct 127 drabbles #nct donghyuck #nct dream donghyuck

[tteokdoroki]

sero is the boyfriend who sees you in your outfit for the bars and immediately goes "goddamn, dont leave me"

sero is so … he’s so slutty.

“baby don’t go…” EUGHH whining into your ear and draping his lanky frame all over you— one hand on your hip and the other conveniently sliding down the front of your dress as you fix your makeup in the mirror by your front door. “goddamn…” sero is so dramatic, like his lips are already sucking on your neck thinking of all the ways to ruin you before your Uber gets here as if it’s not right around the corner. “don’t leave me.”

“baby, made these plans like a month ago. i’m not staying in with you this time.” you tell him strict and stern ‘cause if you indulge the man even just a little he’ll win you over and you’d be stuck with him for the night. but as soon as you tell him no, hanta has a grip, he’s cupping your cunt from under your dress and sliding his slender fingers up the length of your slit— laughing into your skin when all you’ve got on is a skimpy thong so you don’t have underwear lines. “hanta.”

a warning is not enough to deter sero from the task at hand. “hm?” his ministrations between your thighs get faster, slicking you up and just teasing your entrance he’s that sick— smirking at you in the mirror when you put your lipstick down on the dresser. “what? don’wancha to go. look so pretty i just gotta make you feel good… can’t let you leave me.” hanta nudges you, forcing you forward on the dresser so you hold yourself up with shaky arms and mouths at your exposed shoulder— finally scissoring his fingers inside of you, up against your squishy, silky walls. “gonna stay with me?” he moans hotly against your skin.

a thumb finds your clit in low and slow circles, thick quivering and juices running down hanta’s muscular arms. “you’re ruining my dress.” you growl, grinding back on the digits that split you open.

“guess you’re stuck with me, huh?” he thinks he’s so slick, sero, he’s so proud of himself for making a mess of you and reminding you of why you hate love him so much…clenching around the past pace of his fingers, drooling into the seat of his palm. you ought to knock him down a few pegs, shaking your head softly despite the whimpers bubbling up wetly on your lips. “no baby? you still wanna go out?”

“please…” you say even though you don’t know what it’s for— nails digging into the hard wood like you’re about to burst.

“‘mkay. i’ll see you when you get back, yeah?” hanta mumbles into the shell of your ear and suddenly he’s gone, the heat of his body ripped from your bag just like your orgasm and the hum of pleasure at the base of your spine. “your Uber’s here, call me when you get to the club.” he coos, grabbing your purse for you with a boyish grin as he fills it with your belongings scattered across the dresser. keys too. “…and call me when you want me to pick you up, so i can make you cum for real.”

you bristle, gathering your bearings and glare daggers into sero’s back— because how is it that he’s asking you not to leave him, but gives you thousands of reasons to always come back.

#tteokdoroki #sero smut #sero x reader #sero thirst #bnha smut #bnha thirsts #bnha x reader #hanta sero smut #sero hanta smut #yeah … #sero drabbles #he’s nasty <3 #🍵. user mint #🖇. moots #💌. you’ve got mail

[brainworms-all-night-long]

That ^ and the tags is the only context you're getting

[2,354 words]

---

His ear twitched towards the door, caught by a soft scratch and a clicking sound. Afterwards, the doors slowly cracked open to reveal more darkness, but a small silhouette of a fox was visible amidst it anyway.

Panicked, Nine turned his face towards the wall so fast his neck pricked with pain. Then he haphazardly wiped away the tears and bit down any future sobs threatening to rip through his throat.

Perhaps an over-the-top reaction that only justified the one at the door to step in through.

"Hurt?"

There was only one fox in particular that a raspy and audibly unused voice could belong to, and Nine wasn't sure if it made him relaxed or more distressed.

But besides that, he felt tired and defeated, as such, he unceremoniously collapsed onto the bed.

"Not...physically." But he wasn't sure how truthful that answer was. There sure was a particular headache he hadn't felt in years that was bound to get worse by the morning, his sinuses felt painfully stuffy and there were still leftover muscle cramps from... well, the reason he started crying in the first place.

Nine only barely registers the soft falling footsteps of the other before the mattress underneath him shifted and he snaps just the tiniest bit, happy that the mess of unfamiliar and vulnerable emotions was at least briefly overtaken by comforting anger.

He shoots a glare at the other.

"Why- how did you even get in here? Shouldn't you be sleeping?" He hisses out as he sits back up.

Nothing is sacred to Mangey as he definitely just picked his lock, because the one and only key was hidden in the pocket of Nine's current pants. Dunce hat on him for thinking a store-bought lock would keep any of the workshop's inhabitants out, but they could at least respect the purpose of it!

"Hurt." Mangey simply whispers again and points at Nine.

"It's none of your business."

Pulling his knees to his chest, he then hides his face in them, safely wiping all of the leftover tears into the fabric of his pants. A pathetic display, but he felt it was the lesser of two evils as he definitely didn't favor being openly seen crying.

And It really wasn't. There was no reason for Mangey of all people to care or try to play a therapist with him. (Or ridicule him later, but Mangey hasn't struck him as someone reveling in others' pain. But then again Nine wouldn't blame him) There was nothing he could do but make everything worse actually.

All of Nine's muscles tensed up even more somehow as a feew more tears stained the pants' knees.

And that's all he felt; a painful sting in his eyes and the threat of his chest caving in on itself. He was getting tired of it, yet he couldn't relax if you put a tazer to his head. Bad allegory actually, that would in fact make him 100% more stressed.

What temporarily shook him back to his senses however was the mattress suddenly changing volume under him again and hearing Mangey springing to his feet, following his nose to somewhere around the work table's area.

Nine lifted his head just a bit and narrowed his gaze.

What could he be snooping around there for.

Nine tried to call him out, but couldn't find his voice in time before Mangey was already rummaging through a box that used to be very carefully hidden in a secret compartment Nine made under the table to hide his more precious items, like mints.

After Mangey definitely found what he was looking for, he closed the compartment as if it never been there in the first place. Then he hopped up from beneath the table, stopping right in front of Nine.

"Hungry." Mangey stated flatly as he grabbed onto Nine's hand, who, as confused and done as he was, didn't put up much resistance and let Mangey drop a single blue candy onto his palm.

The kit hopped back onto the bed next to him happily and began unwrapping his own piece of mint that has been stolen from right under his nose.

Nine guessed he really was hungry, but eating a stupid piece of candy sure as hell wouldn't fix half a day of starving.

"Candy is not exactly known f-for its nutritional values y'know." Somehow he managed to choke out and what was meant to be an apathetic remark was stained with emotion. He really wished he stayed silent instead.

But there was no reaction from Mangey whatsoever, so after letting the wave of embarrassment wash over him, Nine went back to staring at the single piece of mint sitting innocently in the palm of his hand.

The white lines on the wrapping blended with his glove until all of the colors blurred together when his eyes welled up with tears again.

He wasn't even sure why, he usually had a reason to cry, and even then, he dared to let the tears spill only when he was sure there was no one around.

Thoughts with no beginning or end swirled in his head and frustration bubbled in his chest while he felt stuck in his own body.

He wasn't alone, so why the fuck was he crying over a stupid piece of candy.

He was sure it wasn't the candy itself that brought him to tears again but he didn't want to unwrap all that.

The ever-pleasant internal voice expressed just a fraction of the disarray he felt, until he almost threw the sweet through the ceiling when something suddenly touched his arm.

Still getting lost in and out of his head and between the real world, he keeps forgetting that Mangey is there. The other fox was now leaning on his shoulder, not paying him direct attention though.

Nine wasn't sure what it was but among the confusing and unpleasant concoction of emotions, he grasped the tiniest sliver of irritation he could find again.

Mangey had the whole rest of the bed to lean on, why come bothering him? Nine doubted it was in any sense comfortable either, especially when he was barely touching him at first. But that tiny bead of more than welcome negative emotion fizzled out just as fast as it came.

He gave up on trying to figure out the enigma that was the little feral fox beside him.

A few more stray tears fell into his lap that he didn't even bother paying attention to, before he practically forced himself to open the candy wrapper and plopped its contents Into his mouth.

Some sense of calm washed over him after the fact. It was barely tangible but it was there, and he figured he knew who to thank for that.

But his back was getting tired from sitting upright for so long, he found that he was generaly more tired than ussuala lately. Nine leaned forward and supported his weight by grabbing the edge of the bed as he let Mangey shift closer to his side.

With the cooling taste of the mint numbing the insides of his mouth and warm presence of another living being leaning onto him, he finally had an anchor point to hold on to and get his emotions in check.

The nigh-toxic sweetness of the candy glued his mouth together, which made talking feel both like a challenge and an achievement.

"Is anyone...did I wake anyone else up?" He finally asked, breaking the silence and addressing the most likely reason for the other fox breaking into his room in the first place.

Meanwhile, Mangey made a noise of disagreement but quickly shrugged afterward.

"I suppose the other two wouldn't just ignore an opportunity to make fun of me in this state huh." Wishful thinking on Nine's part. As much Tails and Sails- and sometimes Sonic honestly, do not forget or forgive once they're out for blood, he knew if they saw him now they would only relentlessly baby him and not let up until he told them what's wrong instead (he wonders that at this point too.) All of which would somehow make him feel worse than being picked on.

Letting out a sigh, he leaned forward even further and crossed his arms over his legs. The sudden shift in support caused Mangey, who did not expect it, to almost fall over. So after letting out a yelp, he threw his legs over the bed and scooted on it fully, leaning back to back with the other.

Nine moved his tails out of the way in the meantime, as having someone sit on them wouldn't be the most comfortable of things.

He suddenly became all too aware of how baren he was.

Finally tearing his gaze from the floor he just realized he was intensely staring at, he looked over the seven mechanical tails lying neatly placed on the table in front of him. He felt that sleeping with them wasn't necessary anymore, and it was much more comfortable when he could freely roll over without the restriction of metal around him.

Besides, no one was supposed to get in his room while it was locked, but someone probably saw it only as a fun puzzle in his way.

Nine narrowed his gaze yet again and looked back at the intruder fox. And while he couldn't hope to see his face, those restless paws of his were nervously fidgeting with the fur on the tip of one of his own double tails, while the other appendage lay neatly placed near his side.

Yea, there was no way in hell to stay angry at Mangey for longer than two minutes.

Returning to stare at nothing, Nine spaced out in the darkness of the room.

But this time, he focused on the warmth pressing against his back, the quiet breathing and heartbeat that reverberated from his chest and bounced off the walls...

And then there was another rumble added to the mix. One that he figured should be quite familiar to him, but never actually heard or produced himself in his life. Plus he doubted he'd be able to purr if he tried it himself anyway.

Even still, it helped him finally relax and unclench most if not all of his strained muscles.

The one thing Nine could always be glad for was Mangey's silence. Despite lacking words, the fox managed to say so much and so loudly with undoubted honesty by his actions and presence alone. (Not to confuse lack of deceit with no sass or attitude mind you.)

And that was more than enough for Nine.

Enough to make him feel more like himself again after..whatever the hell these past three hours were. Scratch that, past these– however long was it since he met Sonic.

Nine let a small smile sit in the corners of his mouth. "Thanks." He softly whispered and despite how barely audible it was, Mangey definitely heard it as he could feel the other fully relax against his back as well and let out a quiet hum.

Nine turned the half-dissolved mint around in his mouth when loud (compared to the drowning silence of the room) cracking, that made Nine's teeth hurt in relation, filled the room.

Mangey bit through the goddamn candy.

Surprised he waited up until now actually, Nine glanced back at the other through the corner of his eye.

"Are your teeth made of steel or what?" A rhetorical question that has been asked multiple times by every possible person who had the honor of giving Mangey any food with a denser consistency, and one that got an appropriate mocking scoff as a response.

Doing a doubletake, Nine noticed a much more glaring issue the other fox brought with him though.

"You- you're seriously laying on my bed with your shoes on?" He directed more of his attention towards Mangey and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

"You run on with those outside all day and then proceed to hop into a bed — my bed — with all that dirt and whatever else is you jump around on all day." He could feel the other tense up again, realizing too late he forgot to add the appropriate amount of sarcasm to his tone to make sure Mangey knew he wasn't actually mad at him, just slightly petty annoyed if that made sense.

Why did he suddenly care about that?

"Don't you act all innocent, take 'em off."

Nine poked him with his elbow gently and with all the affection he could muster in his exhausted state.

The other fox simply grumbled in response and kicked off his shoes to the ground at the opposite side of the bed — which were sure to have woken up someone with their unnecessarily loud thud upon hitting the floor — but not before rolling his eyes.

"...un-be-li-vable." Nine fully surrendered his weight onto the other, and this time making sure the overexaggerated annoyance and headshake were enough of a signal he wasn't all that serious.

His eyes felt sleepy heaviness on them as he caught the dimly lit time of a digital clock sitting on a shelf above the table

4:28 AM

Or maybe the last number was six or three, he couldn't really tell. What it conveyed however was that the previous estimate of three hours of spiraling was incorrect and he rather not think about how much more it would've been had Mangey not invited himself in. In fact, he'd rather not think about anything anymore.

The arbitrary decision on whether to give up tonight's sleep and just continue on into the next day until a sudden and inevitable collapse wasn't given. The soft snores of the one behind him and a tail that wasn't his own that could've easily been classified as a blanket of pure fluff that somehow found his way into his lap didn't give the option.

The amount of his much-needed rest was in the hands of the most skittish, energetic and unpredictable fox one could've left it in, and for some reason Nine was just fine with that.

#sonic prime #prime bros #this started as a small drabble meant for a random post back in like March 2023 #(a fuckin YEAR ago) #and then it spiraled and went forgotten and than I rembered it exists again and uh uh- #yea I'm not a fast writer lmao #anyway #putting Nine through it again #and he gets #a mint :] #and some comfort #this may or may not have been based on my own spiral I went on through during last summer #miles nine prower #nine the fox #mangey tails #mangey the fox #me when I finish writing

[mintmetal]

“my heart belongs only to you,” sakusa mutters against your neck, hands squeezing your hips with a divine tenderness. there’s an old cd playing from the living room, soft jazz— the kind that inspires rhythm into your bones. you’re not so much dancing as you are swaying, your arms thrown over his shoulders as you revel in the pink-evening light catching effervescently in the kitchen. how it illuminates the scene, makes you feel like a dream, floating and in love, is magic, and you can’t help but melt into it. “forever and always.”

when he draws back, dark eyes glinting like tourmaline, like glass smoothed by the sea— he is smiling, softly, gentle at the edges. you bring a hand to rest against his jaw, and he preens into your touch. “i love you,” you say, and you mean it so much it makes your heart ache with the weight of it, “so much.”

and then he’s stooping his head down to kiss you, mouth red and stained with wine, and you think you’ve found it— eternal happiness.

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa fluff #sakusa x you #sakusa drabble #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu sakusa #— mint drabbles

[password-door-lock]

You're beginning to suspect that your new boss has no idea what an assistant is supposed to do.

Of course, that much probably should have been obvious when he deposited you on his lap and ordered you to keep quiet before he even told you his name, but you held out hope that this interaction would not be demonstrative of the overall working conditions here at Magenta. After all, Unknown probably didn’t plan on bringing you back here if he was trying to get you to go into that apartment, so it would follow that he might need a few hours to come up with a proper job for you. That was last night, however, and in the intervening hours, he's given you very little in the way of instruction. Actually, he's given you no instruction whatsoever, unless you count hugging you tightly and using your head as a chin rest as instruction— which you do not.

You've decided that your goal (for however long you're trapped in this man's employ) will be to try and figure out what the hell he wants from you. Granted, it’s going to be a challenge— he hasn’t even told you his name yet, and although he muttered something about ‘our paradise’ when he first brought you to this cold, dark computer room, he hasn’t said much else that might clue you in on where the fuck you are. You figure that the most natural place to start your investigation is by attempting to complete stereotypical 'assistant' tasks and gauging his response to them. You run through everything you know about assistant work, which is admittedly very little, and settle on something that seems very neutral: bringing the boss coffee. That's a promising place to start, right? 

Unknown, however, has other ideas. “Where do you think you're going?” He demands as you make your way toward the door. You should have known that he wouldn’t let you walk out of here without an interrogation. 

“To look for a coffee machine?” It comes out sounding like a question. He might be a bit weird, but you won't pretend to be under the impression that your boss is completely harmless. It’s probably best to stay on his good side, regardless of what you might think about his workplace management practices. “You know, I'm your assistant. I should be bringing you coffee, shouldn't I?”

“No,” Unknown says simply, standing up and approaching you only to pull you back into his lap. His plan is apparently to treat you like a sack of potatoes, and although he really shouldn't be trying to sling you around like that without warning, you decide that the safest possible option is for you to just go completely slack and let him do it. “I don’t like coffee.” 

Well, that’s something. You don’t know his real name, or why he brought you here, or what he has to do with that apartment, but at least you know his beverage preferences. “Tea, then?” 

Unknown’s only response is to give you a gentle squeeze before returning to his work. You should have known that you wouldn’t get more than one tidbit of information from him in the same conversation, and you probably should also have realized that he’s not planning on letting you out of his sight any time soon. So much for getting coffee, you suppose. 

Your next attempt at fulfilling your secretarial duties is to establish a little desk for yourself near the door of the intelligence room, so that you can intercept anybody who tries to get in your boss's way. Unknown, surprisingly, allows you to do this with only a bit of teasing. “What, you wanna work and serve the paradise?” He asks, misplaced mirth shining in his eyes. You don't understand why he’s so amused by your dedication, but you're pleased to see that you've moved onto the right track with your ideas about what life as his assistant should entail.

“Sure,” you reply, pushing the folding chair up to the card table. He won't give you any paper, but you managed to track down a pen and some disposable napkins— maybe he's only letting you do this because his legs are getting stiff from having you on his lap all the time.

It's a bit boring just sitting there waiting around, so you're very excited when somebody finally comes by. Before Unknown can do anything, you leap to answer the door. “For eternal paradise,” the hooded figure bows to you.

You're not entirely sure what to say to that. Unknown has never mentioned anything about this being a cult, but it would make a lot of sense if it were— after all, he's been talking a lot about saving you, and this isn't the first time you've encountered somebody wearing weird clothes. But, in your defense, you've been a bit preoccupied so far trying to figure out what your boss wants from you. You haven't had time to try and puzzle out the inner workings of Magenta. “Good morning,” you try.

They seem taken aback, as confused by your mundane greeting as you were by their cryptic oath. You get the feeling that most assistants don’t have to deal with cult etiquette on top of duties like answering phones and scheduling meetings.  “Um... I'm looking for Mr. Unknown.”

“Oh,” you beam. Maybe you’ll be able to handle this interaction after all.  “Well, I'm his assistant. You can schedule a meeting with me, and then—”

Unknown pushes you out of the way, shoving you just hard enough to get you out of the doorway but not enough to make you fall on the floor. Is he being considerate, or just exerting the minimum amount of force necessary to keep you in check? You suppose that the vast majority of your questions about this man will remain unanswered for the foreseeable future. “For eternal paradise,” he says to the stranger, as if nothing happened. “What do you want?”

The two of them exchange a few words before Unknown slams the door in the stranger's face, shooting you a glare on his way back to his seat. The message is clear: you have once again misinterpreted your duties as his assistant. It would certainly help if he would clarify his expectations verbally, but you understand that this is probably a little bit too much to expect from him. After all, he doesn't call himself Unknown for nothing, does he?

The issue is probably that your knowledge of real-world assistants (you would hardly call this a real-world job, considering that you're not allowed to have your phone, and that the boss refuses to compensate you for your labor in any way that doesn't sound vaguely cultish and incredibly irreverent toward any labor laws that may govern this weird castle) comes primarily from TV and movies. You really have to wrack your brain to think of other tasks that you’ve seen assistants carrying out before. “Is there a copy machine I should be using?”

“No,” Unknown informs you flatly. 

Yeah, that follows. “Okay,” you fall silent for a moment, allowing him to return to his work as you consider other assistant things. “Do you want me to make you a schedule or something?” 

“No,” he says again. “Just sit still and be quiet so I can do my work, hm?” 

“Ugh,” you huff. Now you've really exhausted your knowledge of assistants. “Do you have any files that you need me to organize?”

“Why?” Unknown asks you. He sounds genuinely perplexed. “You really wanna help me that bad?”

You consider it. Do you actually want to help him with whatever he's working on? Given that Mint Eye is clearly a cult, it might be better for you to avoid doing anything in support of its project— whatever that may be. But, then again, you’re bored, with nothing else to do, and you doubt that having a well-kept file cabinet will make or break Unknown’s success with whatever crime he’s trying to commit.  “I'm your assistant,” you remind him, “Shouldn't I be… you know, assisting you?”

“Mhm,” he hums, “You should. You wanna organize files?”

“I mean, I wouldn't normally do it for free,” you explain, “But since I don't have anything better to do, I may as well, right?” 

“Too bad,” Unknown tells you, mocking your determined expression with an exaggerated pout. At least he seems like he’s having fun.  “If you wanna assist me, you should try doing what I tell you, okay?” He starts to cackle, and you suppose you should have seen that coming. 

You’re beginning to suspect that  neither one of you has any idea what an assistant is supposed to do. 

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger drabble #choi saeran #saeran choi #unknown mystic messenger #mint eye

[ohmeadows]

ೃ⁀➷ but you can't touch me. servalia, waxplay & dom/sub. 1.5k words, explicit.

#servalia #honkai star rail fic #meadows writes #ok now i can go get breakfast!!! #also this was meant to JUST be a drabble as a mint treat #instead here we are

[miniemew]

you’re curled up snugly, cradled by the chestnut shell that serves as your bed. your body shakes with the force of another coughing fit, but the cushy cotton you rest in and stolen fabrics cut and fitted into blanket size, keep you warm despite the chills.

outside of the wall, the human brews water so scalding the steam alone would finish you if you were to stray too close- but the mint tea bag washes over your senses as it’s aroma seeps into tea. with a small smile, you turn your nose towards the soothing scent.

#g/t #g/t drabbles #chronic illness got me by the throat!! #however. there is always mint tea.

[fireandspiceland]

it’s horny hours I guess 👀 nyo america x pirate england. oral sex/pussy eating, nothing else really. it’s 3am I just wrote this on my phone I’m not going to proof read it now, pls just take it <3

A melodic giggle filled the captain’s quarters while the sea rocked the ship in just the right rhythm to match his hands cradling, squeezing soft breasts. A gasp when he flicked his tongue over her nipple, another giggle when he cruised further down, golden necklaces and the hem of his open shirt ticking her hot skin for a second before it‘s soothed in one kiss after another.

“Arthur.. you’re su-“

“‘t’s captain Kirkland to you.”

His voice a murmur against her hip, Amelia giggled again but it melted into a soft moan when her legs were pushed apart and Arthur’s rigid breath grazed the inside of her thigh.

“Captain…,” she exhaled, unsure what it was that she had been wanting to say. Couldn’t be more important than watching Arthur settle down at his destination anyway.

A sliver of green sparkled at Amelia from Arthur’s half-lidded eyes. The corner of his lip curled into a smirk. There wasn’t much that he loved more than a fine lass like Amelia in his bed, naked as the day she was born yet in a position devoid of all innocence.

“Let me have you.”

Not a question. Barely a request. The demand made Amelia squirm, though not in an attempt to flee from Arthur, his quarters, his ship, but to hide the flush embarrassing her skin and the excited anticipation gushing from her lips.

She nodded, but Arthur had already lowered his gaze. Keeping her spread open, his eyes slipped shut as he closed in on her.

A first lick. Amelia gasped, squirmed again as Arthur’s tongue dipped between her labia in a languid stroke.

He spared her a break, though merely a second, drinking in her taste. As much as Arthur loved his treasures and to dwell on them, this one wasn’t for savouring.

He circled his tongue around her clit slowly, teasingly, then sucks on it. Amelia cried out, her hips involuntarily thrusting up from the bed. She would be surprised if none of the men from Arthur’s crew heard her.

Hands shot to Arthur’s head, pulling his hair, yet her fist around his strands of dirty blond pushed downwards to keep him in place.

The pain shooting from his scalp turned into a pleasurable tingle as it crept down Arthur’s back. He smiled into the next open mouthed kiss he placed right at Amelia’s core.

Again and again, he flicked his tongue over her clitoris, sucked and licked at it, lacking finesse after a dry spell lasting longer than he’d hoped for but making up for it in eagerness and passion.

He barely caught a breath every now and then when Amelia had so much mercy, but if Captain Arthur Kirkland was to find his end with his face buried between a gorgeous woman’s legs as she screamed out his name in ecstasy, then so it be.

#hetalia #wfsn #aph england #pirate england #nyo america #nyo ukus #ukus #I guess?? #also using my new tag yay! #mint milkshake #for organisational purposes :) #riva.fanfic #not really though cause this is not a wip or a preview or anything #it just was in my head and i needed to write it down #consider it a random drabble #written at 2-3am on my phone

[carewyncromwell]

Ginny 🤝 Carewyn

1994 was an incredibly eventful year in the Wizarding World. Although yes, one could've surmised as much in response to the terrifying Death Eater attack after the Quidditch World Cup Final between Bulgaria and Ireland, no one outside of the Ministry really knew just how much was planned for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry until the term started. One hint, however, could be found in the students' list of necessary school supplies for the year ahead -- new to the list this year were a proper set of dress robes, appropriate to a formal event. And upon receiving her list of school supplies, Ginny Weasley was delighted to learn from her mother that her oldest and favorite brother Bill's best friend, Carewyn Cromwell, had volunteered to help her shop for some dress robes.

"Now, Carewyn said she might not be able to buy you whatever you want," Mrs. Weasley said bracingly. "You know she doesn't earn any more than your father...and while renting a flat in London, no less! But she thought that some new robes, even on clearance, might be a nice belated birthday gift..."

Ginny wasn't the least bit unhappy by this. Not only had she assumed she'd have to wear something of her mum or aunt's, but the thought of going out shopping with Carewyn was enough to make the thirteen-year-old bounce with glee. She always liked it whenever Carewyn visited the Burrow as it was, but being able to spend some private "girl's time" with Bill's best friend was beyond exciting.

And so a few days before term started, the youngest Weasley dressed in her favorite dress, jumper, tights, and boots, and then thundered downstairs to the fire. She even ended up running into Ron and Harry on the stairs, and -- after biting back her blush as best she could -- she darted away toward the kitchen before Ron could make too much fun of her for it. Once it was 10 o'clock, Mrs. Weasley walked Ginny over to the fireplace so she could send her on her way to the Leaky Cauldron, where Carewyn would be meeting her. Bill and Charlie were both there to see her off too.

"Tell Carey we said hi," Bill told his sister with a smile.

"Better yet, force her to come back to the Burrow with you when you're done," Charlie added more forcefully.

"Oh, Charlie," Mrs. Weasley scolded, lightly batting him on the arm. Once she had, though, she said as an aside to Ginny, "Do try to invite Carewyn back over for a visit, though, Ginny dear -- while your brothers are still here..."

Ginny couldn't help but grin. "Okay."

And with this, she grabbed some Floo Powder, tossed it at her feet, very clearly shouted, "DIAGON ALLEY!", and disappeared with a flash of green flame and smoke.

When Ginny climbed out of the Leaky Cauldron's Floo grate a few seconds later, she immediately found Carewyn standing there waiting on the other side of the grate. The ginger-haired lawyer was as pretty as always with her trademark bright red lipstick, dressed in a crisp, white collared shirt, thigh-length black skirt and a tailored black waistcoat.

At the sight of Carewyn, Ginny's brown eyes lit up like miniature suns.

"CAREY!"

Carewyn had to open her arms quickly so as to catch the smaller girl as she threw her arms around her, squeezing tight.

"Hi, Ginny," Carewyn couldn't bite back a full, amused smile.

Ginny looked up at Carewyn, unable to keep the huge, giddy grin off her flushed, sooty, freckled face.

"Bill, Charlie, and Mum say hi," she said at once.

Carewyn's blue eyes sparkled knowingly. "Is that all they said?"

"Well, Charlie also told me to force you to come back with me to the Burrow," Ginny said through her giggles. "Mum wants you there too."

Carewyn rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling as she sighed. "I'm sure she does...for very different reasons than Charlie, I'm quite sure..."

She took out a handkerchief and set about wiping the soot from Ginny's face.

"Yeah..." Ginny laughed a bit uncomfortably, "Mum just hasn't gotten it through her head that Charlie's not into dating. But well, it wouldn't be so bad if you and Bill dated, right? You're already best friends! And if you marry Bill, then he could come home and take a desk job at Gringotts, and you could both live in London together!"

Carewyn tried to smile instead of cringe, but the effect was weakened by just how much she avoided Ginny's eyes. "Ginny, I love Bill only as a friend...and the feeling is more than mutual on his end. I have little interest in marrying anyone as it is. And even if I didn't, Bill and I couldn't be more different, in what we'd want in a romantic relationship."

Giving birth to a lot of kids, for one -- talk about the last thing I'd want to do...

Ginny deflated, clearly a bit disappointed.

"If you say so. ...I still think you'd make a brilliant Weasley, though," she said with a grin.

Carewyn smiled wryly. "Well, fortunately, your brothers have treated me like one for quite a while now."

Tucking her handkerchief back into the inside of her jacket, she then turned on her heel, glancing back over her shoulder at Ginny.

"Well, come on, then," she said stridently. "I thought Madame Malkin's would be the best place to start. Twilfitt and Tatting's supply is very pretty, but we're less likely to get as much for our money there. And remember, we can always modify what we find, if it's not a perfect fit...I'm sure your mother would be happy to help with that..."

Ginny eagerly followed along after Carewyn out of the pub and into the rest of Diagon Alley.

The two gingers headed to the famous robe shop, where they immediately moved to the clearance racks at the back of the room. Ginny was actually really happy to see just how much Carewyn and she were able to pick out from that rack that they both liked and Carewyn could afford -- even those ensembles that were three times the amount of Ginny's second-hand school robes weren't out of reach, which made it so that Ginny ended up having a stack of eighteen pretty, affordable dresses in her size that she could try on. Some of them didn't suit Ginny -- the flashy, patterned purple, gold, and green one overpowered her small frame, while the cream-colored one completely washed her out. Others were made of uncomfortable materials, were too revealing, or required a larger bust size to look right.

Eventually, though, Carewyn helped Ginny pick out a golden yellow dress with wide bell-shaped sleeves and navy-blue and burgundy panels on the skirt. Carewyn had originally thought to go for something more delicate, but upon seeing how easy it was for Ginny to move in it and how happy she was twirling the skirt around, Carewyn decided it ultimately was the best choice.

"Do you think it'll do?" Ginny asked a bit more self consciously, as she looked at Carewyn's reflection in the mirror.

"Of course it will," Carewyn said gently, as she took a mint-green dress with pastel pink details she hadn't liked very much out of the stack and returned it to the rack. "Even if it's cotton instead of velvet or silk, it's cut flowingly, and the colors are much brighter than standard robes."

Ginny held the skirt out, sweeping it back and forth as she considered her reflection. Noticing the younger girl's hesitation, Carewyn came back over to stand behind her, smiling at her in the mirror as she talked to her.

"Most importantly, you're comfortable in it," she said with a small smile. "We always look our most beautiful when we're comfortable and having fun...and in dress robes this comfortable, I would think dancing the night away would be very easy to do."

Ginny looked up at Carewyn's reflection, startled.

"Did you say dance -- ?"

"I suppose Bill didn't mention the time he stopped by briefly to the Celestial Ball, in my fourth year," Carewyn said airily. "A shame -- he did quite a nice job fixing up his own dress robes, for that party..."

Ginny's face was flushed with excitement as Carewyn gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

"Dress robes are only worn for formal events, Ginny, I haven't said anything that shocking," she said in a rather droll voice. "It's only sensible to presume that an event of that nature would involve dancing."

Despite saying this, her blue eyes twinkled with amusement. It made Ginny grin from ear to ear.

"Suuuure," she said sarcastically, before bursting into giggles. Carewyn herself only smiled more wryly.

"Well, then, have you decided on those?"

"Yeah!" said Ginny.

"Good -- let's get them bought and paid for. Then I can buy you some ice cream before sending you home."

Ginny had gone behind the curtain to change -- when she'd pulled the robes up and over her head and could peek around the curtain properly, she looked a bit disappointed.

"So you're not coming back home with me?" she asked.

Carewyn offered Ginny a sad, sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, Ginny, I have work in less than an hour. The Minister has requested my professional opinion on the validity of possible libel charges against Rita Skeeter..."

"Libel charges?" Ginny frowned.

"Put simply, Fudge didn't like Rita Skeeter trash-talking the Ministry's response to the attack at the World Cup and wants to know if there's any way he can make her shut up," Carewyn said very coolly.

Ginny couldn't help but scoff around her smile as she went back behind the curtain. "I bet Dad wishes she would too, after all the fuss she made. Reckon there's any chance Fudge could do it?"

"No -- her words in that article are protected under current law, given that she framed the more sensational comments as rumors or speculation from unnamed witnesses. Not to mention that Fudge going after Rita Skeeter would only give her and her writing more attention in the press, not less."

Ginny gave another low scoff from behind the screen. "I guess it's like Dad says: bullies love playing the victim -- then they can act like all their rotten actions are justified..."

The youngest Weasley came back out from behind the curtain, holding her new robes under her left arm and taking hold of Carewyn's arm with her free right hand.

"Well, you'd better write a proper apology to Bill and Charlie for not coming back with me," Ginny said pointedly. "I know Charlie will be mighty disappointed. Mum too."

"I will try very hard to get together with both Bill and Charlie before they leave Britain," Carewyn said levelly. "After all, I've missed them too."

Ginny grinned again, clearly pleased by this. Once Carewyn took the robes from Ginny and paid for them at the desk, she handed the bag holding the robes back to Ginny and the two gingers headed out of the shop.

"Carey?"

"Yes?"

Ginny gave Carewyn the biggest side-hug she could muster with only one arm completely free.

"Thank you," she said, beaming. "Shopping with you was so much fun. And my robes...you were right before, they are perfect! I can't wait to dance in them! Maybe I'll even get to dance with...well...somebody cool..."

She blushed a bit, clearly a bit self-conscious at this thought. Carewyn's eyes softened as she brought the smaller girl up against her side affectionately.

"I'm glad you like them," she said gently.

Ginny gave Carewyn another squeeze as she grinned up at her through her ruby red blush.

"...Say, Carey, did you and Bill dance at that Ball? The one you mentioned earlier?"

Carewyn cocked her eyebrows. "No, we did not. My date for that Ball was Andre Egwu, actually."

Ginny's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "The Keeper for Pride of Portree? But -- but I thought he liked blokes -- "

"Primarily," Carewyn said with a dry smile. "And I primarily like my independence -- hence why we didn't last."

Bringing a hand down onto Ginny's shoulder, Carewyn then started off down the street, coaxing her along behind.

"Now come on -- I said I'd get you some ice cream, and I only have a half hour before I'm supposed to clock in."

Friendship Drabble Prompt!

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #ginny weasley #carewyn cromwell #bill weasley #charlie weasley #molly weasley #cornelius fudge #rita skeeter #my writing #friendship drabbles #yes I decided carewyn didn't get those fugly mint green and pink dress robes ginny wears in the film #we get no description of ginny's dress robes in the book because harry honestly didn't pay any attention to her at that time #but no way would carewyn have let ginny dress in something that washes her out that much :I #ginny needs COLOR damn it #her book self is so very colorful she deserves it #and no offense to bonnie wright but she doesn't capture that partly because the writers gave her almost nothing to work with #...damn it now ron's the only weasley I haven't done for these friendship drabbles #how is it that one of my favorite weasleys ended up being last?? #luck of the draw I guess #last but not least I guess could apply though??

[ejunkiet]

an old soul

thoughts on the bond between maker and progeny, immortality and ways to avoid speaking the truth. i’m deep in my vincent feels this week, folks.

redacted asmr: vincent/lovely, rated teen. short and sweet.

READ ON AO3

You don’t need to worry about me, they say when he asks, but their phrasing is careful, and he can tell when they’re avoiding the question. How are you, does it hurt less today, can I help – they’re all acknowledged and brushed aside, and he just wants to help. To fix the mess he’s made of their life, the collateral damage of knowing him, loving him.

--

an old soul

He used to have his mothers eyes. He’d loved how they reminded him of her: dark and deep, with a subtle splash of color around the pupil. You have an old soul, his māma used to say. Just like me. 

Now his eyes reflect those of his Maker, a piercing silver flecked with blood. A physical reminder of his new life, the name he’s taken for himself.

Solaire.

It’s only been twenty years since his turning. His sisters have married and had kids of their own, time moving onwards for them in a way it hasn’t for him. They’ll be in college now, around the same age he was when the accident happened.

Same school, same town. It’s funny how life cycles like that. 

He tries not to think about it. Keeps his phone data locked, so that he can’t chase the rabbit holes of thought, the dream of his other life. Letting go had been one of the hardest things he has ever done. He’d never wish it on anyone. 

Let alone his partner. His little spark. Lovely.

You don’t need to worry about me, they say when he asks, but their phrasing is careful, and he can tell when they’re avoiding the question. How are you, does it hurt less today, can I help – they’re all acknowledged and brushed aside, and he just wants to help. To fix the mess he’s made of their life, the collateral damage of knowing him, loving him.

The guilt is something he will never put into words, as he would never place the burden of it on them - but still, he thinks they know, despite his silence. He can see it in their lingering glances, the knowing tilt of their lips when he sidesteps their questions in turn.

They’re so alike, even with the years between them. Except - they’re so much better than him. So much stronger, and brighter, and brilliant.

But they love him anyway.

I was never close to my family, they explain when he asks again, later, how that aspect of the change is affecting them. He knows they’ve talked with Sam already, and his love towards his friend has never been deeper. It won’t take them long to get over the loss.

Their voice is quiet and honest, the words spoken plainly instead of dancing around the truth, and he pulls them close as their eyes slip shut and the tears break. He can feel their pain through the bond, as intimate as the connection between vampires can be, and he holds them through it, soft and warm and loving.

You are loved. You will always be loved. I will be here for you as long as you will have me.

When their breathing has calmed, they look up at him with the same silver eyes, beautiful in their face, as soft and familiar as they've ever been.

You gave me a gift, Vincent. I’m grateful for it.

Their words mean more to him than they know.

#redacted asmr #ej writes redacted #redacted vincent #I've always seen vincent as east asian descent (although I love all interpretations) #thanks for mint for the insight there <3 #writing #another midnight drabble

[bokutosmochi]

IS THAT A REMOTE CONTROL IN YOUR POCKETS OR ARE YOU JUST HAPPY TO SEE ME?

what's it? humor allergen warning/s? n/a names for the order? gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen, fushiguro toji, nanami kento regulars? @hanayanetwork​ @tahonet​ @tokyometronetwork​

bon appetit!

SUKUNA RYOMEN

FUSHIGURO TOJI

NANAMI KENTO

GOJO SATORU

i get: reblog

you get: a pen pal

#order of the day! #order up for gojo! #order up for sukuna! #order up for toji! #order up for nanami! #one mint chocolate chip mochi #with a side of orange creme italian ice #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo one shot #gojo x you #gojo smau #gojo drabble #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna one shot #sukuna drabble #sukuna smau #toji #toji x reader #toji x you #toji one shot #toji drabble #toji smau #nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami one shot #nanami drabble

[atlas-library]

MINT CHOCOLATE ┅ hasegawa langa．（001）

FANDOM．sk8 the infinity. UNIVERSE．canon, mint chocolate. CHARACTERS．hasegawa langa (amab!langa), kyan reki (amab!reki). PAIRING．renga (kyan reki x hasegawa langa). PROMPT．langa thinks about love during valentine's day. CONTENT WARNING．small queerphobia being implied (only for a sentence, though). WORDCOUNT．600.

AUTHOR'S NOTE．here is the starter to a thread that never came to be, from early 2022. i might turn it into an actual series if people like it, so feel free to let me know if you’d like more!

EMOTION /ɪˈməʊ.ʃən/ noun [c or u] a strong feeling such as love or anger, or strong feelings in general.

LANGA KNOWS HOW TO TRANSLATE IT IN JAPANESE：感情（かんじょう）, KANJŌ．emotion is something the young man has always felt, like everyone else; it would appear whenever he’d find himself thinking about his family and friends, riding his skateboard, and spending time with reki.

〝you guys might as well marry each other, huh?!〞his classmates would laugh while patting his back; silly jokes langa didn’t understand at first— and this time, it wasn’t because of the language barrier.

〝i didn’t know gay marriage was also a thing here,〞he’d naively reply, staring at the formerly-white ceiling now covered in dead flies and funny drawings.

it’d earn him surprised gasps, his classmates rushing to his side to ask more about canada and langa’s western beliefs.

〝yo, we were kiddin’! gay marriage?〞they’d promptly ask with stars in their eyes, japanese teenagers who never got the chance to travel and expand their horizons, already too fascinated by langa’s mixed roots to even think of same-sex relationships.

those were fantasies made by and for women, only seen in mangas and dramas, a taboo no one cared to talk about— don’t think anything of it, judge them without understanding, move on.

LANGA TAUGHT HIS CLASSMATES ABOUT GAY MARRIAGE, TELLING THEM ABOUT CANADIAN LAWS AND THE PRIDE；some of them had already heard of the event, the rainbow-coloured month, the cheers and kisses lost between couples from all horizons. when talking about men, the girls were the most eager; when talking about women, the boys were the most eager.

when talking about reki, langa was the most eager.

〝so wait— if you could,〞they’d ask with confused looks,〝would you marry reki? like, for real?〞

it wouldn’t take long for langa to reply:

〝yes, we’re friends.〞

it’d earn him desperate sighs.

LANGA DOESN’T LIKE TO THINK TOO MUCH ABOUT STUFF：life doesn’t need to be complicated. all he needs to do is embrace every part of it, and let emotion come and go.

reki and him are friends; it’s as simple as that. langa likes reki, reki likes langa.

langa doesn’t like complicated things: he’d marry reki because he’d marry a friend, and his father always told him he had married his best friend— langa’s mom. it doesn’t need to be romantic, it doesn’t need to be platonic; it doesn’t need to be anything, except them loving each other and being happy together. it’s probably too simple for his classmates’ minds, but langa finds it complicated enough already. life doesn’t need to get even more complicated.

〝i’ve seen a new trick on youtube last night,〞langa hums as he walks to his locker with reki beside him. he mindlessly unlocks it, his blue bangs framing his pale face, and pulls the door towards him,〝do you think you could teach m—〞

langa can’t finish his sentence: an avalanche of paper falls on him, burying him and making him unable to see for long seconds. He’s buried in letters and heart-shaped boxes.

right, he thinks to himself, valentine’s day is a thing here as well.

the young man wiggles his body like a worm to get his head out of the unbelievably large amount of presents, then looks around: lots of boxes equals lots of chocolates. his stomach groans happily at the thought.

〝do you like white chocolate? oh, there’s mint too!〞his body still buried in the avalanche, he looks around then up to reki with a smile on his lips, ready to share with him.

CREDITS．the stars divider belongs to @/saradika. the support banner belongs to @/benkeibear. the stars and dots divider belong to @/cafekitsune.

© atlas-library on tumblr. do not copy, repost or alter my works. do not translate my works without consent.

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 #sk8 drabbles #sk8 fluff #langa #langa hasegawa #hasegawa langa #sk8 langa #reki #reki kyan #kyan reki #sk8 reki #renga #sk8 renga #atlas posts #atlas writes #mint chocolate #drabbles mint chocolate

[sohyuki]

with love, [xingqiu]

dear anonymous ​​

prompt : xingqiu + check-in 

cws : implied unrequited love from xingqiu’s brother. 

notes : this character types like a victorian maiden pt. 2. xingqiu was my best boy early game so this was a pleasant walk down memory lane. after 17 months of playing genshin, mihoyo finally gave me a sacrifical sword for him. thanks for not hating me mhy. i hope you enjoy! <3

to my companion and closest confidant,

first and foremost, happy lantern rite. may the lights of liyue always shine for you. 

the year has been plentiful, and feiyun guild enjoyed yet another prosperous year. i dare say it is our best year yet: our relationship with the other nations flourishes under the tianquan’s and qixing’s steady guidance, the harbor bustles every day and the streets are filled with wares. father is optimistic about the future and i’m sure most of liyue is as well. 

however, i shall bore you no further with business talk. how are you faring, my friend? i hope life in qingce village is as peaceful as you hoped it would be. chongyun might be traveling to the village in the next few days, says something about a rogue ghost in the bamboo forest. we both know how that will end but might i trouble you for a cup of tea, if i tag along? it has been too long since we’ve seen each other. many things are better conveyed in person anyway. 

brother seems to be moping lately. no one really noticed but i see him sighing and staring out at the courtyard more than usual. i don’t suppose this has anything to do with a letter you sent to him, hm? put the poor man out of his misery and come visit! you know how he feels for you, must you torture him like this? even just a glance from you will lift his spirit for the next decade. 

(though now that i think about it, i suppose i understand the delight such torture must bring.) 

even if we are far, i hope you are happy. i hope you find the life you are looking for in qingce village. getting away from the noise of liyue harbour was probably the most sound decision you’ve made and i’m pleased to know that it has benefited you. 

please take care, and remember that there will always be a home for you here. 

sincerely,

xingqiu.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #xingqiu #genshin xingqiu #xingqiu imagines #xingqiu headcanons #xingqiu scenarios #genshin drabbles #— with love (300 special) #— mint writes

[ohmthipakorn]

Title: until i saw you

Rating: General Audiences

Fandom: เพื่อนายแค่หนึ่งเดียว | Never Let Me Go (TV 2022)

Relationship: Palm Pannakorn Jannaloy/Nueng Nuengdiao Kiattrakulmethee

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, New Years Eve, Drabble

LINK

happy new year, everyone! i posted a short and sweet little palmnueng drabble in celebration. you can click the link above to read it. i’m hoping to post more writing and fic this year so please feel free to let me know what you thought or come chat with me about these boys in general, i have a lot of Feelings. thank you so much for reading <3

#never let me go #never let me go the series #never let me go fanfiction #never let me go fanfic #nlmg #palmnueng #palmnuengdiao #nuengpalm #palm x nuengdiao #palm x nueng #thai bl #thai bl fanfiction #drabble #mint writes

[mintmetal]

tsukishima kissing the space behind you ear as he hugs you from behind, soft, tender. you feel the cool metal of his glasses bump your skin, his fingers moving carefully around your waist, big hands engulfing your circumference. when he tucks his head into your neck, you hum, content, as he puts you at ease, letting the moment wash over you, calm and sweet.

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima kei headcanons #tsukishima kei drabble #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #— mint drabbles #hq x reader #hq drabbles

[password-door-lock]

From the pale pink wallpaper to the rose gold chandelier, everything looks deliberate, as if the room were decorated just for you… or, at least, as if it were cleaned very thoroughly immediately prior to your arrival. Before you can stop yourself, you run a tentative hand over the shining accents on the walls, lips parting in silent wonder as you attempt to determine whether the panel molding is plated with real metal leaf or just shiny paper. Either way, someone has clearly gone through a great deal of trouble to coordinate the metallic trim with the freshly-polished light fixture in the center of the room. A row of black and white photos hang in dark wood frames above the bed; upon inspection, you recognize only the Eiffel Tower, but imagine that the rest depict famous landmarks as well.

And the bed itself… you know you would stick out like a sore thumb if anyone could see you testing it out. You’ve never laid on anything so luxurious before, and your oversized hoodie and jeans feel out-of-place and scratchy against the impressive linens. The mattress makes you very aware of just how old the one you have at home is— if you had the budget to splurge on something new, this is what you would get. You make a mental note to ask Ray to refer you to his mattress supplier after you finish testing the game. The pillows are beyond plush; they seem to rise and meet your head as you sink back into them. The misty rose bedspread must be made of silk or some equally exquisite material, you decide as you raise yourself off of it. You can only imagine that the sheets will be just as comfortable, but you know that if you tuck yourself into bed now, you may forsake any further exploration in favor of sleeping. 

The runner at the foot of the bed features bubblegum flowers against a blush background, a perfect complement to the delicate floral upholstery on the chairs at the center of the room. These, with their golden frames, sit on opposite sides of a small round table with a vase full of flowers positioned atop it. Your limited knowledge of flora in general and your inability to identify the blooms on the table (or the ones by your bed, for that matter) do nothing to stop you from admiring the purple flowers, and then the white ones in turn. They all look so beautiful that, were it not for the Eastertide scent that they project throughout the room, you would be inclined to believe that they were made of plastic. 

You push aside the gossamer curtains for a moment and find, to your delight, that your room overlooks a sprawling garden, complete with hedges and floral awnings, which blooms with a vengeance across a series of plots and planters. It is wild and tame at once, nature bent to the will of some very talented gardener and their precise aesthetic vision. No wonder the flowers in the vases are so well-formed… they must have come from outside. You wonder, momentarily, what a game development company could possibly be doing with such an extravagant garden: but the answer occurs to you as quickly as the question did. It must be to boost the morale of the workers, since just looking out the window is having such a positive effect on your mood. You make a mental note to ask Ray about it, anyway— maybe if you bring it up, he might invite you out to get a closer look, and a little extra information wouldn’t hurt. Clearly you have a lot to learn about the world of game design: before this morning, you had no idea that companies hired random strangers to live onsite and test their games! 

You imagine that Ray must have come across your resume online and decided that you fit the bill, though you have no idea where to even begin with what the bill might be for a mobile game app tester. Or maybe you’ve played one of his games before without even knowing it, and he figured that his new project would be something you’d like. Shaking your head, you allow the curtains to close, willing yourself away from the window and over to the closet at the opposite end of the room. Before leaving home, you shoved a few spare outfits into your bag, but you’d admittedly been more focused on rounding up such necessities as your toothbrush, wallet, and phone. In the closet, however, you find a seemingly endless supply of clothing; each extravagant garment seems well-made and impressive in its own right. Everything bears a strong floral scent, as if it had just been washed, though you figure that a good deal of the shirts hanging in front of you must be dry-clean only. They are organized by color, and although many of the pieces are a bit extreme for your tastes, accented with outrageous ruffles or perplexing combinations of ribbons, puffs, and lace, nothing looks as if it would be particularly unflattering on you. You can’t say that this wardrobe was curated with your personal style in mind, but you understand immediately that it was brought here for you. Does this game development company employ a team of stylists, too? 

You pull a few shirts out of the closet, careful not to damage their elaborate accent pieces, and determine that each of them is roughly your size, with a negligible amount of variation between them. You would expect such fancy clothes to be stiff, but like the bed linens and the curtains, everything in the closet is pleasant to the touch, soft but sturdy. You replace the shirts and redirect your attention to the impressive dresser, which is of antiquated style and features not only drawers but a hat box. One of the drawers is empty— Ray and his contemporaries must have expected you to bring a few things of your own— but the other three are filled with pieces as exquisite as the ones in the closet and a few slightly less-decorated nightclothes, all of which still feature at least a subtle hint of lace. They remind you of the costumes from a period drama, or what a character in a fairy tale might wear— whoever left these things here for you evidently had a certain aesthetic in mind. You blush at the thought that Ray, with his tailored jacket and antiquated waistcoat, might have had something to do with this. Surely he would be too busy to go to so much trouble just for you. 

 You really do feel like royalty when you open the hat box and discover that it contains not hats but spools of ribbon, along with an ornate jewelry box in the same shade of pink as the wallpaper. You fiddle with the golden latch for a moment before the box springs open; you slam it shut and force the closure nearly as quickly. Surely that pearl necklace, those silver earrings, and that bejeweled bracelet must not be for you? You’re willing to believe that the game developers have supplied you with clothes, but fine jewelry… that seems a little much. You realize with a start that you’re still wearing your shoes and quickly toe them off, carrying them back over to the closet and setting them on beside the others on the shoe rack. You hadn’t noticed it before, but now the five odd pairs of shoes are obvious to you… they’re all very nice, ranging from silk slippers to leather loafers, but none are very practical. Your own sneakers are probably some of the only ones on the rack that would be able to handle getting wet, though it does not escape your notice that everything appears to be your size. How on Earth did anyone get ahold of that kind of information? Maybe you should start actually reading the terms of service agreements associated with the games you download. 

After inspecting the fine white carpet for anything you might have tracked in (thankfully, despite their years of wear, your sneakers were relatively clean when you arrived), you make your way to the ensuite, which is just as magnificent as the bedroom is. The cool porcelain tub could be a work of art, with its elaborate clawed gold feet and spacious off-white body. Not for the first time, you wonder whether the gold is real or just for show. The vanity, in white marble with gold accents, looks equally as impressive, and out of the same curiosity that has gotten you this far, you cannot help but open the drawers. The first contains basic products— cotton swabs, toothpaste (in the brand you normally buy, no less!), a hairbrush, and deodorant (also in your typical brand). Your tastes must be so basic, if your hosts just happened to buy everything you normally use. But maybe that’s a good thing— after all, you wouldn’t get it if you didn’t like it, and you’ll admit that you were worried about not having your normal toiletries during your extended stay away from home. 

The second drawer is stocked with skincare: the cleanser, toner, moisturizer, and scrub are all the same as the ones you use at home, but there are also several other products you don’t recognize, each with a function more mysterious than the last. You’ve never gotten into skincare enough to understand gels or serums, but the masks look like they would be fun to try if you have any downtime in between playing the game and chatting with Ray. The last drawer contains even more products, including but not limited to a package of very fancy-looking French soap and a few bottles of salon-quality shampoo and conditioner. The razor, securely placed in a travel-safe container, is the same as the one you have at home, but the shaving cream beside it looks a little bit out of your price range. Even the cleaners under the sink look high-quality, with labels professing their all-natural gentleness. Not that you need them right now, anyway— the place is spotless, from the shining mirror to the marble countertops to the pale pink bath mat. 

Once you run out of places to explore, you return to the main room and take a seat on the bed, mind racing even more than it was when Ray left. By now, you’re certain that the company you’re testing for must be responsible for some very popular games, if they can afford all this. Do all the employees here live in such luxury? You decide that they must— after all, you’re nothing special. But even so, now that you’ve seen where you’ll be staying, you’re excited to get to work testing the game… and to spend more time with the game developer who invited you to do so.

#mystic messenger #another story #mint eye #is this a drabble or a oneshot I genuinely do not know #there's no plot it's just room #everyone's favorite part of mystic messenger #a location #but this concept has also been living rent free in my head for days