#a civil wars song as a fic title

[safereturn]

let me hold your hand (and dance around the flames)

Another Ember Island Players Fic Word Count: 1956 Zutara one-shot Read on ao3

Zuko is sure his shame will consume him, obliterate him, turn him to ashes and blow him away in the wind. The only evidence of his existence will be that awful play and the wake of destruction caused by his own implosion.

And yet, it pales in comparison to the anger flowing off the water bender walking beside him. Fearing retribution, he keeps his gaze steadily ahead, focusing on the trio walking in front of them. Sokka, Suki, and Toph chatter about their portrayal; Toph lets out a roar that sends Sokka yelping into Suki’s side. Suki laughs so hard she snorts and slaps Sokka’s back as his cheeks tinge red. 

Zuko bites back a snarky comment. It’s simply propaganda, the events told with the inevitable agenda of a Fire Nation playwright, but at least they were written as comic reliefs. 

They weren’t failures and traitors. 

As they approach his family’s old vacation home, Katara’s sandal gets caught in the transition of cobblestone to sand. She loses her balance, but just as Zuko reaches a steadying arm out toward her, she rights herself on her own. Aang huffs behind him. 

Not to mention the resentment radiating off the young Avatar. Aang all but limps toward the house like a wounded puppy, head tucked into his chest. 

Katara pulls away from the group and storms off toward shore, back stiff, fists tight. Zuko slows to a stop as he watches her. She marches on to the beach, right where the tide stops overlapping the sand, and slumps to the ground, knees to her chest. 

The rest of the group carries on into the house. Aang sends one last glare at Zuko, then runs up the stairs and slams the door behind him, rattling the frame and sending an explosion of sound that evacuates nearby cicada-crickets from the trees. 

Zuko feels his chest constrict at the thought of following them inside the house. He isn’t claustrophobic–years spent at sea on a Fire Navy cruiser in close quarters with his crew desensitized him to any fears of being too enclosed. But there was a sort of heat burning under his skin. He was restless and itchy. Like if he walked into that house, he would explode, bringing the walls down around him in a terrible blaze.

Zuko glances over to the silhouette of Katara sitting in the sand again, still hunched, gently swaying back and forth with the tide. He’d seen her move like this once before, flying high over the ocean on Appa, the rain coming down around them. 

After confronting her mother’s killer, Katara had been near catatonic. They’d walked away from the quaking old man, but the further they got, the more she had withdrawn. Zuko had helped her climb onto Appa’s back, and she collapsed onto the saddle and stared blankly ahead. She might have been crying, but the rain had cast everything in a haze. As if it were all a dream. And then, like a child being comforted by a mother, she rocked herself side to side. 

She hadn’t spoken to him until they landed back at camp, and Katara had thrown her arms around him and granted him forgiveness. He remembers the warmth of her body against his, it had spread through his chest and she gave him a gentle squeeze before letting him go.

Zuko decides he would rather drown at her hand than suffocate amongst childhood memories. He approaches her as one would approach an injured turtle duck, softly and with no sudden movements.

“Go to bed, Aang.” Katara’s words are thick, tinged with finality that left no room for argument. It doesn’t escape him how maternal she sounds, as if she were scolding a petulant child. 

“It’s me,” he says. Katara peeks at him over her shoulder, then looks out toward the ocean. “I can go further down the shore if you want to be alone,” he offers, “but I’d rather not be in the house right now.”

He watches her shoulders rise as she fills her lungs with a long breath. Then, slowly, she places a hand on the sand beside her and gives it a pat. 

“You can stay.” She sounds tired now, but her tone is softer than her previous chiding. 

He sits cross legged beside her, sitting a little closer than intended, his shoulder brushing against hers. Zuko’s nerves were raw, his fingers had been trembling since the end of the first act. The gentle warmth of Katara’s arm against his was like an anchor, grounding him, giving him something to brace against. She doesn’t acknowledge it, she simply sways into him, then back, her chin resting atop her knees. 

“I’m sorry about tonight,” Zuko says. “That wasn’t a good play.”

Katara raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t write the play, Zuko.”

“No.” He grabs a handful of sand, it’s clumpy and coarse, still damp. Zuko squeezes it in his hand, then lets it crumble between his fingers. He does it again. “I'm just– sorry. I’m sorry you had to relive that. Relive me.”

She’s examining him. Zuko doesn’t dare make eye contact, but his skin prickles at the heat of her gaze on his face. It travels down his arms, to his hands, until she’s watching the grains of sand trickle between his fingertips. 

Again, he feels too large. He waits for his skin to burst open. 

“That wasn’t you on that stage, Zuko.”

“It was all the things I’ve done. All the ways I’ve hurt people.” 

How much good would he have to do to counter balance all the bad? Terrorizing citizens for any knowledge about the Avatar, burning down villages…

The Catacombs under Ba Sing Se.

The look of terror on Katara’s face, the smell of burning flesh, the cry that tore itself from her lips as she fought to get to Aang, fought to get them to the surface, fought against Azula, fought against him.

The look of anguish on Uncle’s face as he fought to keep Aang and Katara safe. 

Zuko chokes on a shuddering breath. His skin burns, his chest burns, his eyes burn.

“I’ve hurt so many people.”

So much blood.

Katara grasps his hand, grains of sand gently chafing against skin as she twines their fingers together. “Stop,” she whispers. “That was not you on that stage.”

His mind stutters, trying to pull himself from the memories. Katara squeezes his hand once and brushes her thumb over his knuckles. Back and forth. He sucks in a breath, then lets it whoosh out of his lungs. The tension in his shoulders drops. 

“You have done more than enough, Zuko.”

Enough. 

If there is wetness on his cheeks, Katara doesn’t mention it. She simply keeps rubbing soothing circles in his skin with her thumb. They watch the waves crash over the horizon.

 “Maybe I should apologize to Aang,” Zuko says, thinking of Aang’s glare. 

He can feel her deflate next to him, slumping into herself. Katara presses her face into her knees and heaves a sigh.

“He’s not angry with you,” she mumbles.  

“You didn’t see the look he gave me.”

Katara shakes her head and with a shrug says, “He’s angry with me. We had a fight at intermission.”

“What could he possibly be mad at you for?” Zuko saw the way Aang looked at Katara. He worshiped the ground she walked on, what could she have done that was so bad? And why would Aang take it out on him?

“It’s complicated.”

Zuko huffs. It’s not quite a laugh. “Try me.”

Katara gives him an uncertain look, then turns her gaze back to the ocean. Just when Zuko thinks she’ll ignore him, her voice breaks over the sound of the waves.

“Aang had… a hard time distinguishing between the play and reality. Ever since we met we’ve been really close. For months it was just me, Sokka, and Aang. And then Toph joined and it was the four of us. I always trusted them with my life, but it felt like Aang was on my side when Sokka and Toph pushed me too hard. He helped me through some pretty bad things, and I helped him, too.

“I found him in an iceberg, so I was possessive , I guess. He was going to save the world. My world. And I would have done anything–” Karata’s voice cuts off, followed by a frenetic breath. The waves wash higher on the shore, in time with her quick breaths. The water sweeps against their feet.

“I would have done anything to make him happy. He’s my best friend and of course I love him, but what he wants...” Katara heaves a shuddering breath. And then another. Her next words come quickly, garbled. “It’s too much. I’m trying to win a war, and so is he! But I can’t–I feel like I can’t even breathe.”

And then Katara makes an awful sound, a low whine cut off by a choked gasp. And then, even worse, she’s apologizing .

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, pulling her hand from his and swiping under her eyes. “This is stupid, just like that ridiculous actress.” Her hands leave behind grains of white sand on her cheeks. 

And for the first time, Katara looks defeated. Not even nine months ago, in a much colder continent, with her family's lives at stake and only a water whip to protect them did she look so small. She had built herself up with fury, indignation. She made up for what she didn’t know in determination. 

Now, with her eyes squeezed shut and shoulders hunched, there was nothing she could fight to make this hurt go away.

Zuko is at a loss for how to comfort her, and he hates himself for it. She so effortlessly brought him from the edge of panic. Forgave him when he was the face of everything that was taken from her. 

He thinks of her arms thrown around his neck. Her thumb brushing circles into his hand.  

And he does what he should’ve done when Katara sat numbly in Appa’s saddle. Zuko pulls Katara into his side, tucks her head into his shoulder, and hugs her. He winds his arms around her back, and sways her gently, his chin tucked over top of her head. Katara lets out a whimper, and then her arms circle around his waist. She buries her face into the crook where Zuko’s neck meets his shoulder. 

For a moment, all there is is the roar of the waves and his stiffness. He doesn’t want to jostle her, spook her. But her fists clench handfuls of his shirt and she is shaking, chest heaving with silent sobs. 

Zuko thinks of his mother and turtle duck bites and cries met with warm arms and soothing whispers. And he sways her, side to side, soothing a hand down her hair. She smells of sea salt and the old bath oils left in the wet room.

“Okay,” he says into her hair, “okay.”

It’s not okay. Zuko knows what it’s like to collapse under the weight of expectation, knows what it’s like to choke on the disappointment of others, knows the taste of desperation. It had almost killed him, back in that apartment in Ba Sing Se. And when he’d made it back to the Fire Nation on the basis of Aang’s murder, there were times he wished the fever had taken him. 

So much pain.

“Nothing like the actress,” he says. There is wetness and sand and shuddering breaths against his neck. “You are strong, this is strength.”

Katara takes a deep breath. Then another.

The waves wash back out to the ocean and quiet to a lull.

“You’ve given more than enough."

[msbigredmachine]

Here With Me - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

As the Bloodline Civil War takes an unexpected turn of events, Reader comes up with the perfect pick-me-up for her Tribal Chief. Post-Summerslam 2023.

PAIRING: Tribal Chief!Roman Reigns x OC

Warnings: SMUT

Word count: 6k 

A/N: Dido's "Here With Me" did so much for the writing of this that I had to name the fic after the song.

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

I’m startled awake by the door clicking shut, my eyes remaining closed as he walks into the bedroom of his penthouse suite. I’m laying on my side facing away from him, but he is clear as day in my mind's eye as he tosses the gold title belt on the sofa across the room. His beloved ula fula, the subject of heated combat tonight, follows. The mattress dips as he sits on his side of the bed, letting out a painful exhale. 

My eyes flicker to the digital clock on the nightstand. I returned to the suite right after the main event. It’s currently 1.30 am. I have no idea where he’s been for the last two hours, but I let it slide. He’s come back to me and that’s all that matters.

The pointed silence and the hairs that suddenly stand on the back of my neck tell me he’s staring at me. It’s confirmed when I feel his hand rest on my leg over the white sheets blanketing me. His usually assured, confident touch is sad and distracted. Even in the humming quiet, I can feel the turmoil brewing inside him and understandably so. 

The last few weeks have been a lot for him to take in. Getting pinned in London; tensions exploding in MSG; putting his entire legacy on the line against Jey in Orlando, and tonight, at Summerslam, victory at Tribal Combat. But it’s come at a price, as his family has all but disintegrated now. He is exhausted, physically and emotionally. I could see it in his eyes backstage after the match in spite of his best attempts to conceal his true feelings. For him, tonight’s win feels like a loss.

The second his hand slips away, I miss him. He stands up from the bed and heads to the bathroom. I twist around the bed to face the partially closed door, and hear the shower start. I wait for a while before getting up and making my way to him. His head snaps in my direction when I open the door.

“Babe?” he calls out.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t panic,” I try to joke, my smile faltering a little when he merely turns back around and faces the wall. I notice the still visible red marks on his broad back, imprints from the kendo stick and leather strap beatings he endured tonight.

"I'm sorry, I musta woke you," he says, as I pull off the baggy t-shirt that belongs to him over my head. I swap my silk bonnet for a shower cap and open the door to the enclosure. Stepping inside, I immediately jump away in alarm when the water beating down on him splashes onto my skin. It’s boiling hot. 

“Jesus, Ro! You tryin’ to cook yourself?” I exclaim, quickly grabbing the tap, my wrist frantically twisting the knob to adjust the temperature to a less dangerous degree. He hasn’t flinched once. I steer him away from the water, then slip around to his front and wrap him up in a hug that he clearly, desperately, needs. His body stiffens, hesitant at first, before he sags against me and locks his arms around my waist. His face is tucked in the crook of my neck, nestled comfortably like it belongs there. I can feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“It’s okay. Just keep holding me until you’re ready,” I whisper, combing my fingers soothingly through damp strands of his hair as his grip on my waist remains tight. Being the macho hypermasculine entity that he is, I know he doesn’t like it when I see him like this. But relationships are about sticking together through the good times and the bad. I’ll always be there to see him through both.

“I coulda sworn you won your match tonight. What’s wrong?” I lure him in with a coaxing peck to his shoulder, hoping to quicken his response time.

After several seconds of hesitation, he gives in. “I warned them both,” he starts to vent. “I knew it would come to this. You saw for yourself tonight what happens when you become selfish and greedy. All I ever wanted to do was keep my family together, elevate them and their careers. Those two ingrates turned against me and made me out to be some kind of monster. Conspired with the Elders behind my back and questioned my place as the Head of the Table. Now they’re at each other’s throats and our entire family looks weak! I warned 'em, I told 'em-”

"Hey, hey, hey,” I gently shush him, lifting his face so our eyes meet. My heart sinks from how despondent he looks. “Breathe, baby, breathe. Deep breath.” I wait for him to do so, feeling his chest rise and fall against mine, inhaling and exhaling. But his mind is clearly still on his cousins. 

“This is all on them,” he continues. “They refused to see the big picture and now it’s gone to shit.” He licks his lips and his eyes are glazed. “The family wants me to intervene, but fuck that. Not after they tried to destroy everything I’ve worked my ass off for the last three years. As far as I’m concerned, they’re dead to me.”

"Don’t say that. Families fight all the time. It’s going to be fine,” I vow, even though I'm in no position to promise such a thing. “Come here." I gently prompt him to turn around, and watch for a few seconds as the less scalding shower stream pelts his shoulders with water. The tribal tattoo adorning the right side of his back is majestic and intimidating up close, and I never pass up the chance to idolize the intricate design. “I want you to relax for me, okay?”

He reaches out and braces his hands on the wall in front of him while I run mine up his back to slowly knead his shoulders, working the tense flesh. His muscles are tight and I do my best to ease them up with my amateur masseuse skills, gleefully aware that I love touching him anyway.

I move down to the middle of his back, and he starts to relax under my touch. As I’m about to retrace my route, I lean in and press soft kisses to his back right before massaging that same spot. Roman exhales again, suggesting he is calmer now, but only just. He’s a tough man to crack, so it feels good each time I become more conversant with his…complexities, if you will. Our relationship is relatively new…We only just met in February this year. I was not a wrestling fan growing up, but I’ve since plunged headfirst into the circus-like controlled chaos that only a pro wrestler is capable of living in. In my defense, it’s easy to dive in when it’s with a man as sweet, charming and criminally sexy as Roman Reigns. Of course, it’s not all rainbows and roses; his prolonged absences, our bitter exes and his psychotic fan girls spring to mind. But I won't change a thing as it’s only made us stronger together. Every day I wonder where he has been all my life, and I want to be with him forever. Yes. I’m in that tight of a chokehold. It’s a whole lot sexier when he’s actually doing the choking.

“You know, other people woulda buckled under the pressure and responsibility long ago. But here you are, standing tall despite the setbacks. That says a lot about you, big boy,” I say to him, my hands still at work. “You’re still the Champ, the longest reign in the last thirty plus years. The twins may have turned their backs on you, but best believe I won’t. I never will.”

Roman scoffs cynically and shakes his head. “Right. Everyone leaves me in the end. Seth. Mox. My ex-wife. Sami. Even Heyman abandoned me once. Now my own cousins.”

“Well, I ain’t none of them,” I answer smoothly, as he turns around to face me.

“I'm not a bad person, Y/N,” he insists, his eyes pleading, as though he’s desperate for me to believe him. I do. I take his hands in mine and stare into his chocolate-colored eyes. 

“I know you’re not. You’re not afraid to speak your mind, and you don’t take shit from nobody. You’re passionate and you stand your ground and fight for what’s yours. There’s nothing wrong with that at all. In fact, it’s sexy to me.”

His eyes twinkle mischievously at my choice of words. “Sexy, huh?”

“Mm-hmm. I’m learning a lot about this sweet, sexy man I’m sleeping with and falling in love with.”

The sudden silence that follows is amplified by the rush of the shower water. The look in Roman’s eyes is so intense that my knees grow weak. It’s not the most picture-perfect setting to utter the L word for the very first time, but witnessing first-hand the ferocity with which he defends his pride and his legacy has sparked a wave of awe and devotion and yes, love…through me that I can no longer keep to myself. 

"I'm sorry I came back so late. I needed to clear my head,” he says softly, his hand lifting to caress my cheek. The anger in his voice has disappeared, while his eyes and demeanor are much softer…My little declaration has penetrated his armor. He looks down sheepishly at his feet and wets his lips before speaking again. “I kinda feel like I’ve been neglecting you, too…” he adds.

He’s such a sweetheart. To be fair, he’s made up for it by flying me to London, New York and now Detroit to be with him. The beautiful part is, I know I’m not the only one in love…His actions and gestures lately have spoken volumes. But if he’s not ready to say it back, he doesn’t have to. I just need him to know that he has my heart and I’ll always be by his side no matter what. 

Pressing my body more firmly against his, my arms wind around his middle as I leave delicate licks and kisses all over his tattooed pec, right over the spot where his heart beats. I hope every day that it’s me his heart beats for. 

“I know how frustrated you are about what’s going on. It sucks to feel like you’re losing control,” I tell him, staring up at him through my long lashes. “I can do something for you, Daddy. I could give some control back to you. I can make you feel better,” I offer, my voice as soft and seductive and as enticing as what I’m proposing. My mouth applies more pressure to his wet skin, and his breath hitches when I suckle the shell of his earlobe. “However you want me tonight, you can take me. Just say the word and I’m all yours.” My hands slide down to scrape his firm backside, and his dick twitches between our naked bodies, the exact reaction I yearn for. 

For a long moment, he says nothing, only stares at me with his smoldering gaze. The energy simmers between us, and it boils over when he grabs my face and presses his lips to mine. Instantly my skin prickles and my heart pounds as we plunge headlong into each other. Our heads tilt from side to side, our tongues dance together as the water cascades around us, and I lose myself to the heat of our embrace. 

Feeling dastardly, I break the kiss to slip his finger into my mouth. My lips drag along his long index finger, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. I suck on it like I am sucking something else, bigger, and the memory has him groaning deeply, his erection straining impatiently against my belly.

“Get on your knees and do that with my dick,” he orders.

Now we’re talking.

Leaning in for one more kiss, I trail my tongue along his throat and down his torso until I’m kneeling on the tiled floor. I wrap my right hand around the base of his engorged dick and tug gently on it. He lets out a quiet whimper, and it is a massive turn-on to know I can elicit such a response from this specimen of a man. Watching him succumb to me is always sexy as hell.

His cock jumps in my grip when I roll my tongue around the tip. He inhales sharply, moving his hands behind my head, and squirms as I lavishly lick along the underside, teasing him. I luxuriate in his throaty groan as I then slowly make him disappear inside my mouth. I stroke and suck simultaneously, relaxing my throat to take him in deeper with every bob of my head.

"Fuck yeah," he pants, his fingers sinking into my scalp. “Suck my dick, beautiful. Don’t fuckin’ stop...”

Right now, I’m all about obeying Daddy. Staring up at him with hazy eyes, my tongue twirls around the base of his dick again before I switch to more intense suctions, my cheeks hollowing as my mouth glides hungrily up and down his entire length. His moans and gasps echo around the enclosure, causing my pussy to moisten and throb with lust. Gripping the back of my head, he holds me all the way down on him, my lips touching his pelvis. He withdraws and then pushes back in, rolling his hips to go even deeper down my throat. "Shit, your mouth feels so good, babe," he moans, a ravenous look in his eyes. My fingers slip underneath to play with his balls while I suck and tongue him down, and I’m rewarded with another desperate groan. I’m so aroused knowing I’m bringing him so much pleasure. 

Suddenly his pace quickens, his hips pumping, fucking my mouth more aggressively. Saliva spills down to my chin as his long, thick cock slides more easily in and out of my mouth. Roman lets out another moan before holding my head down again, exploding down my throat with a harsh grunt. He collapses against the shower wall, catching his breath as I pop him out of my mouth and pat his cock against my tongue. Once upon a time, I used to be uncomfortable letting my exes finish in my mouth. I talked about it with Roman, and he was fine with it. But there was something in me that wanted to please him to the fullest, and not long after our first time together, I changed my mind. It’s an experience I learned to fully commit to, and I haven’t looked back since.

"That was fuckin’ amazing. Come here," Roman lauds, tugging me up on my feet and sweeping his lips along mine. "I'm so glad you were awake." The timbre of his voice, deep and laden with desire, sprouts goosebumps all over my skin. 

"I don’t sleep as good without you," I reply, running my fingers again through his hair. He leans down and scoops my right breast into his mouth. I moan as the sensation zips straight to my loins. His hands glide down my back to squeeze and caress my ass. He keeps me tight against him, pressing himself firmly on my stomach. Feeling him so turned on sends more chills through my body. 

"You know we ain’t done, right?" he says, “We just gettin’ started, baby girl.”

"I hope so..." I reach behind him to turn off the shower. Handing him one of the bathrobes, I wrap myself in another one and open the shower door, taking his hand and leading him back to the bedroom.

We stand at the side of the bed and he undresses me, dragging the robe off my body. I can’t help but blush as he ogles me like he’s seeing me naked for the very first time. He cups my breasts, rolling them in his hands as he kisses me passionately. I tug his robe down his shoulders as I kiss him, my tongue bossily claiming every inch of his mouth as my own. His hands travel all over my naked body, heating me up with his stimulating caresses. He tells me all the time how much he loves my curves, but this is more than that. He’s prepping me for an onslaught. He is about to manhandle me like the sex god that he is, and my breathing quickens and my loins pool with anticipation.

Roman detaches his lips from mine out of nowhere, a devious smile on his gorgeous face. He shoves me onto the bed, flat on my back right on the edge with my legs spread. I can’t hold back my moan as he strokes his dick while stepping between my thighs. The sight of his muscular right arm flexing as his fingers strum his long, hard cock, makes my clit throb. 

Ever observant, Roman notices me staring and smiles smugly. “You like this baby? Want me to jack off for you?” he asks, tugging and smacking his dick a little harder, a bead of pre-cum oozing out the tip, and my thighs clamp together to relieve the maddening pressure between them.

“Dude, no! I want it in me,” I practically admonish him, almost offended that he thinks I want anything else. I’m about to bust right now just looking at him.

His smile widens, and he takes my knees and yanks them in opposite directions. He’s enjoying this, torturing me, making me beg for him. “My little slut is so needy. Don’t worry, baby, Daddy will give you what you want.”

As his face nears mine, I instinctively reach up to touch him, but he grabs my wrists and pushes them back down to the mattress above my head.

"Uh-uh. I got plans, baby girl," he informs me with a brief kiss. He searches around for what ends up being his bathrobe and draws the long white belt off, twisting it around his hands and tugging it ominously. We lock darkened eyes, and his tongue swishes hungrily across his lips.

“Gimme your hands.”

I obey. He takes my right hand first, and then my left, crossing my wrists together and winding the belt firmly around them, before pushing my hands back above my head. I’m flat on my back and all tied up with my ass halfway on the bed, legs spread, naked, cunt exposed and at his mercy. I love it. I love that he trusts me and is comfortable enough with me to explore his kinky side. I trust him, too. I’m proud to be the fucktoy of my Tribal Chief.

“Jesus, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he groans, his eyes raking down my prone frame like he’s famished. My breath catches as I watch him tie his wet hair in his trademark man bun. Then, he bends down between my legs, breathes hard on my clit and then sticks his tongue out to lap at my folds. Right away my body jerks, blooming with sensual heat. He starts licking me with longer strokes, working his tongue all over the surface of my pussy lips, then he breaches, jabbing his tongue in and out of me with expert precision. The quiet of our room amplifies the erotic audio between us; my staccato breaths, his lazy slurping, my wet pussy splashing against his deadly tongue. Then, to murder me, he closes his mouth around my clit and starts sucking it lightly. That’s a big ass mouth, and it takes everything in me to not scream from how good he’s working me. He keeps glancing up at me; I know he’s getting off to my moans and my attempts to grind against his face. He takes me hostage, his muscled arms winding around my thighs to hold me down while he feasts. His soft groans against my flesh, the warmth of his breath, the scratch of his beard on my inner thighs…The combined stimulation is toe-curling, with wave after wave of pleasure bombarding me like a thunderstorm.

“Don’t come yet,” he instructs unexpectedly, and I’m about to cry. His mouth feels so damn good. He continues sucking and licking, wreaking havoc on my sensitive core. I grip the sheets tighter as my back arches off the bed. “Fuck, Roman, please!” I cry out, damn near begging for release.

Of course, my pleas are ignored. He twists his tongue inside me, gifting me with more strokes over my pussy and my engorged bundle. The decadent rhythm of his mouth and tongue on me is edging me dangerously closer to a mind blowing nut. Just when I’m certain I’m about to disobey him in the worst way, he pulls away, his full lips glossy and shining in the lonely lamplight by the bedside. I don’t know whether to be upset or relieved. He licks all the way up to my chest and clasps my left breast in his hand, worrying the sensitive nipple between his fingers while sucking my other breast in his mouth. 

"Imma fuck the shit outta you," he whispers to me in a rough and raspy voice, his dark eyes gleaming.

His promise is a direct hit to my groin. "Do it, Daddy. Do that shit," I gasp, squirming under his touch.

He brushes our mouths together, and I sigh softly as my own juices melt from his tongue onto mine. Roman stands upright at the bed’s edge, bends his knees and rubs the tip of his shaft along my slick, softened folds. He lunges forward in one fluid motion, his lips parting in a moan as he slowly slides inside me. I bite down on my bottom lip, my eyes glazing over with pleasure when he draws back out, leaving just the tip, before plunging in again with a sharp snap of his hips. It feels like the wind has been knocked out of me.

"I'm inside of you, baby. This what you want? Want me to take this pussy?" he asks with another deep thrust, his big dick nestled in my warm wetness, and it’s driving me wild.

"Yes, take your pussy Daddy, fuck me," I plead, my voice catching on the desire and lust washing over me. 

With that information, he hoists my legs onto his shoulders and picks up the pace, pushing in deeper and filling me to the brim like he always does. I’ve told him more than once that he belongs inside me, and the pure pleasure in his eyes every time we fuck says he agrees wholeheartedly.

"Shiiit, baby, right there, that feels so good…" I whine, feeling him nudge right up against my hilt. He pulls back for a second, and I watch as he holds my legs open and a thick glob of saliva spills from his mouth and onto my pussy. Before I can fully process this, he slams back into me, more easily now, snatching my breath from my lungs. His fingers grasp my hips as he pounds me, slow and balls-deep, to the point that I’m seeing stars. My restrained hands claw at the sheets above me, searching for some kind of leverage as he dicks me down. He has total control of my body and he’s using that power to make me take every inch of him, literally and otherwise. My eyes squeeze shut, mouth falling open as my chest begins to clog and my head begins spinning from his long, lethal strokes. 

His hulking upper body closes the space between us and descends on top of mine, bringing us chest to chest. "Breathe, sweetheart," he tells me, and on command, I draw in a raspy breath, alleviating the discomfort in my chest. His evil little smirk tells me he is enjoying every second of my agony. His arms stretch upwards, brushing over the cotton material of the belt securing my wrists and twining his fingers around mine. His muscles flex and ripple as he keeps pumping into me. He nuzzles the spot where my neck and shoulder meet and bites down on it, making me call out his name.

"Goddamn, this pussy good as fuck. Every damn time," he grunts. His hands tighten around mine as his pounding thrusts switch to salacious rolls of his hips, grinding deliciously against me while he swallows my moans, his tongue slipping inside my mouth for another hot, sloppy kiss. My legs wrap around his waist, my ankles locked behind his back to keep him to me. 

"Tell me again, baby. Tell me you love me,” he rasps in the middle of our intense kissing.

“I love you, Daddy, mmm,” I moan back, my heart pounding as hard as he is pounding me. It’s a stunning mix of the emotional high of love and the carnal rush of lust that I’ve never felt before with anyone else. 

“Yeah, you love me?” He searches my eyes, as engulfed in the throes of passion as I am.

“I do, Roman, I love you so fuckin’ much...unnhh my god…”

He has moved off of me, seizing my legs from around his waist and shoving my knees into the mattress. There’s no time to miss the warmth of his body as he’s back to his rough, brutal strokes, drilling me over and over, stuffing my pussy with his cock. It’s like the animal in him has been unleashed, months of family strife spilling over and transferred to me via his increasing aggressiveness. As my orgasm builds in my stomach, I flex against my restraints again, my fingers craving to dig into his skin, to sink into him the way he’s sinking into me. With one more suffocating thrust, I break at last, and my eyes roll into the back of my head, my moans ringing around the entire suite as I tremble beneath him. His arrogant chuckle tickles my ears, clearly reveling in the blissful state he’s put me in.

Before I can blink, he grabs my waist and flips me roughly onto my belly, bending me over the side of the bed. Hovering over me, he unties the belt binding my hands, and I assume I’m free. But then, he tugs both my arms behind my back and re-ties my wrists together. I’m still recovering from the shock of my orgasm and this new position when his dick slots back in my cunt, and my mind is wiped blank, a strangled moan escaping my lips. Roman gives a few short, stabbing thrusts inside me before finding a rhythm he enjoys.

"God, you feel fuckin’ amazing, baby, so tight and wet for me. Damn,” he hisses behind me. Using his right hand, he slaps my left ass cheek and jiggles it. I gasp from the pain and the pleasure, making my pussy squeeze around his dick with a force that has us both groaning. My fingers scrape against his pelvis as he keeps his momentum, sliding in and out of me, in and out. Oh, fuck, it feels sooo good! He’s so long and girthy that I feel like I’m being split open, but I melt into submission and take it like the fucktoy that I am. 

His husky groans are my soundtrack as he fucks me into the bed at a savage pace, having his way with me. Clutching my ass in large handfuls, he spreads my cheeks open and plunges his dick deeper inside me, forcing me up on the tips of my toes. Using his thumb to scoop up my juices, he circles it around the puckered hole of my second opening, a keening cry tumbles out of me and into the sheets as he pushes it deep into the tight entrance. 

“Too bad we forgot the lube, I’da fucked this pretty ass all night long,” he says with another slap on my backside, and I can only whimper in response. Pinned face-down to the sheets, I can feel all of it. His thumb fucking my asshole, his magic cock stretching my other hole wide open, his powerful tree trunk like legs barricading mine against the side of the bed. My body is so riled up that my pussy reacts by leaking all over his cock, the gush of my nectar sending a pleasurable sensation through us both. 

“Mm-hmm, make a mess on my dick, baby, keep comin’ all over it,” he taunts me. He lifts both my legs off the floor and onto the bed, arching my back and spreading my knees wide. From there, he wraps his hand around my hip, his fingers pressing into my flesh, and he rocks me back and forth on that big ass dick, making me move with him. We moan together at how good we’re making each other feel. Every sound resonates through my heated body; the inevitable squelches of my dripping cunt, our skins smacking lewdly together, our sex filling the air with a familiar primal scent that belongs to no one but us. 

My brain is on sensory overload as he speeds up his thrusts, his balls slapping against my clit as he hammers into my pussy with newfound aggression. The pressure is building inside me at a dizzying, alarming rate, so much so that I use my bound hands to push again at his lower abs. This time I succeed in pushing him off, but only for a second.

“What’chu doin’? Don’t run, c’mere,” he growls, sliding his dick back in me right before it slips out, and I cry out as he impales me hard on his shaft. He spanks my ass hard for my bad behavior. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Take this fuckin’ dick.” 

Seizing my wayward hand in one of his, he buries himself in me, deep-diving in my g-spot, making my walls contract around his dick again. My voice is all but gone, I’m that spent. But Roman wants more. He’s an expert at coaxing more out of me even when I have nothing left.

"Tell me who you belong to, huh. Who’s my slut?" he demands, giving my ass an underhand slap.

"I'm your slut," I slur.

"What’chu say?"

"I'm your slut, Daddy," I enunciate with great effort, inebriated in a cocktail of love and ecstasy.

Another stinging smack on my butt.

"Louder." 

"I'm your slut!" I bellow, my voice cut off when Roman pins me down by the back of my neck, my cheek pressed into the mattress. This forces a deeper arch in my back, opening me up to be plowed mercilessly by his dick. The pressure of his fingers on both sides of my throat has me struggling for breath. I’m high from overwhelming pleasure right now, and that menacing coil that’s been winding in my belly finally snaps again. 

“Ohmygod…ohmygod…fuck, fuck, fuck!” My body explodes again, and I’m shaking like I’ve been possessed by a supernatural entity. I know Roman can feel it too, as he’s moaning and gasping, a handful of my vibrating ass cheek in his grasp because the grip of my pussy is about to break his dick in half. I’m reduced to a weak, moaning mess as somehow he continues fucking me senseless. Then, with a loud, hoarse grunt, he yanks his dick out of me. One squeeze is all he needs, expletives tumbling around my name as he comes all over my ass, warm, thick droplets spilling onto my backside. I can hear the wet, slippery skin on skin contact as he strokes out his nut, and the sound arouses me despite my thoroughly fucked disposition. 

“Fuck!” he moans out, leaning tiredly into me, his drained cock mashed against my ass. “Damn, baby. Damn.”

The rest of my lifeless body melts onto the bed, my arms limp on my lower back, my mouth hanging open. I’m barely cognizant of him loosening the belt from my wrists. When he’s done, he seizes my ass cheeks with both hands, slapping them together one last time before walking away from the destruction on the bed. I haven’t moved an inch. My ass is still in the air and my eyes are starting to drift shut. It won’t be the first time he’s fucked me right to sleep. However, before I succumb to the darkness, his deep voice rouses me. 

“Don’t go to sleep yet, baby. Come here.”

I force my eyes open and lift my head to search for him. He’s stretched out on the other side of the bed, watching me with unabashed amusement.

“We ain’t done?” I mewl, exhausted.

“Nope. But we’re taking a little break for now. Come sit on top of Daddy.”

That’s a dangerous position to be in, especially as his dick is still hard and covered in layers of my cum. But how can I ever resist my man? With all the strength I have left, I crawl up the bed towards my lover. His brawny arms wrap around my body and ease me on top of him. He grabs his bathrobe and wipes his mess off my backside, before rubbing my back and my thigh with those big callused hands of his. He feathers a kiss on my forehead, my nose and then my mouth, in the sweetest, most tender of kisses. "You're so good to me, baby. I appreciate you so much," he whispers against my lips.

"Anything for you, baby," I remind him, dabbing away the sweat from his forehead with the bathrobe. "Do you feel better?"

"I do." His soft, beautiful eyes gaze into mine, observing me. “I know that you worry about me a lot, and I’m sorry,” he says.

"Don’t ever be sorry. I always worry about the people I love. I just want you to be okay," I answer. 

"I know, and that means a lot to me. You have no idea how much you mean to me, baby girl. I think about you all the time...I feel at home every time I’m out there performing for the fans, but coming home to you is always my top priority," he tells me. His eyes shine with emotion. "I love being with you. I love calling you mine and me, yours. I’m so happy you love me, because I love you too baby, so much."

Oh my god. He’s said it. I’m not imagining it this time. Tears spring to my eyes but I quickly blink them away. "I love you, Roman," I breathe, and press my lips to his, grateful to have this amazing man in my life. Our mouths move sensually together as I glide my palms down the side of his face, smoothing out the bristles of his beard. He lets out a throaty moan at my touch, at my kiss. I could stay like this forever, but my baby needs his rest.

“You should get some sleep. You had a long night tonight,” I say. 

He raises an eyebrow at me. “I think you’ve forgot when I said we’re just getting started. It’s your turn to fuck me.”

“Damn, you were being for real huh.”

“Course I was. You’re my little fucktoy, aren’t you?” Two of his fingers rub across my bottom lip before slipping into my mouth, as he hypnotizes me with his smoldering, effortlessly sexy stare. “I can use you however I want, however long I want, as many times as I want. Right?”

I may be fatigued from the barrage of orgasms he’s blessed me with tonight, but I’ve since realized that no matter how tired I feel, I’m still greedy for that big ol’ dick. He’s turned me out and turned me into a raging nympho in the process. I nod thirstily, gasping around his fingers as I feel his dick stiffen against the swollen mound of my cunt, ready for me again. 

“Good girl.” His fingers slide from my mouth to join the rest of their counterparts down south. Together, the ten of them gather the supple cheeks of my ass, molding, caressing, a devilish twinkle in Roman’s eyes at the hunger shining in mine. “Recess is over sweetheart,” he announces. “Ride this dick. And this time, I’m nuttin’ all up in that sweet pussy of yours.”

Fuck, I'm such a slut. It’s almost embarrassing, the way my already battered pussy instantly flutters at his low, husky tone, at the thought of getting filled up with his seed. I reach down to grip his cock, sliding the tip along my wet slit to lube it with more of my juices. The shiver of his big body as I stroke him sends a thrill through me. His big hands envelop my hips once more as I lower myself down on his waiting erection, sending a jolt of electricity through our bodies as we begin the eternal, spellbinding dance of lovers all over again.

THE END

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

The good girl in me wants so badly to apologize for writing so much smut, but dammit I’m not sorry! Roman is sexy af lol

Please leave feedback. I love feedback!

Banner made by me. All Roman gifs by @romanreigns​. Credit to owners of the other pics and gifs.

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[mitskinaturalbang]

a stray's devotion

Title: a stray's devotion

Author: preetkiran1016

Artist: e-mio

Song: i bet on losing dogs

Posting date: April 27th

Rating: E

Pairing: dean winchester/castiel, dean winchester/lisa

Any archive warnings: none

Top 10 main tags: Voyeurism, betrayal, requited unrequited pining, angst, hurt no comfort, god complex, heaven's civil war, unhealthy ideas of love, animal death, original characters, non-linear narrative, someone give these guys a hug, the road to hell is paved in good intentions, godstiel

Summary: Castiel doesn't understand how his actions could've been wrong. Standing in a ring of holy oil, unable to look Dean in the eye.

How his devotion could be so readily thrown away.

A dog, thrown to the street after years of loyalty.

Humans were fickle things.

Author tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/preetkiran1016

Link to Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55492609

Artist tumblr (or other SM link if no tumblr):  https://www.tumblr.com/e-mio

Link to Art: https://e-mio.tumblr.com/private/747128071607533568/tumblr_RXPZe96UET5BJsggl

[lykegenia]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤️

Thank you for this ask! One thing it's made me realise is how many fics I have now - twenty new ones since I last counted - and I have no idea how that happened. My five favourites?

On Last Song - Oneshot, Dagon Age: Origins. The last stand of the Eleanor Cousland, the Seawolf. This one I love because it switches up the perspective usually seen in the Cousland origin and lets Eleanor have the hero moment she deserves. The fic actually started with the poem I wrote for the codex entry in the notes, and I'm still really proud of it.

Like Glitter and Gold - longfic, The Wayhaven Chronicles, Leah Kingston x Nate Sewell. The body of a murdered supernatural is found behind a bar, and Detective Leah Kingston must solve the crime (while dealing with the tempestuous budding romance between her and a certain suave member of Unit Bravo). This was the first murder mystery I've ever written, and it taught me so much about plotting and consistency. I also loved getting to explore the relationship between Leah and Nate as they both learn to open up and communicate. Also love for this one because you bound it for me so now it's sitting on my shelf where I can read it like a real book.

The Falcon and the Rose - longfic, Dragon Age: Origins, Rosslyn Cousland x Alistair Theirin. To the surprise of absolutely no one I'm still super proud of my AU where instead of a Blight, the only thing our heroes have to worry about is a civil war. The intricacies of Fereldan politics, the lore and worldbuilding, the relationships between Alistair, Rosslyn, and Cailan, and the fact that I actually finished it are all reasons why this is still my favourite of all the things I've written.

The Things We Hide - longfic, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Zutara. An AU where the Southern Water Tribe only fell to the Fire Nation with the help of Sozin's Comet, with Katara taken to the Caldera as a political prisoner where she works to undermine the rule of the Fire Lord from within. More political intrigue, Katara and Zuko both being awesome, classic enemies to lovers. Even if the title still hasn't grown on me, I'll always be fond of this one because I almost, almost didn't post it but people ended up loving it.

Unlocking The Door - oneshot, Dragon Age: Inquisition. An exploration of Cullen's (headcanoned) asexuality. This one I love because so many people responded to it so positively to say they felt represented, and as someone who also identifies as ace that feels important.

[throughtrialbyfire]

Fic Author Self-Rec!

tagged by the lovely @mareenavee , thank you so much!! <3

tagging @dirty-bosmer @orfeoarte @gilgamish @umbracirrus @totally-not-deacon @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @thequeenofthewinter and YOU!! no pressure to participate, and if you haven't written 5 fics, feel free to just talk about whichever ones you have!!

Rules:

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

i'm going to paste each fics summary, and then go on my tangents!

An Inner Sanctity

Two months after attempting to utilize the Eye of Magnus and gain it's power, Ancano wakes up in an unfamiliar cottage, being cared for by the very person he intended to destroy. Navigating their strange and new dynamic, the Thalmor agent finds he may be offered second chance at life, but whether or not he takes it is another story.

this fic is a huge work of exploration into what indoctrination can do to someone who has never known any different, and how that can affect things as broad as worldviews and as personal as one-on-one dynamics with people. it's also partially catharsis-fic, as giving ancano some of my own mental and physical issues and dialing it up to 10000000000% is a hell of a lot of fun. i love seeing that old man suffer and then earn his rise from the ashes. plus, using athenath in a fic where they cant rely on the other two of the trio - as this is in an AU i call the "athenath solo run" - forces me to think of how they would handle situations on his own. spoiler? not too well.

it's on a hiatus at the moment despite having a pretty long backlog, i just don't have the motivation right now to edit and write more for it, but that definitely will change in the future, because i really love exploring ancano's psyche and how he begins to grow and change.

also the fic title comes from the song "Twilight" by Bôa, while that doesnt have anything to do with the fic, i loved the line "you give me an inner sanctity", sooooo <3

The Mark You Left

Two scientists realize, upon losing contact with Dr. Richtofen, that they are truly alone in the aftermath of their actions.

i don't have 5 fics for TES, so have my singular CoD Zombies fic as well! i've had a special interest in the ultimis timeline of CoD Zombies since uhhhh 2011? maybe? sometimes it lays dormant for months and then all of the sudden i think about it daily, especially the dynamics between Dr. Schuster, Dr. Richtofen, and Dr. Groph. so, i wrote this as a bit of a loveletter to a fandom i no longer am part of, but still have a lot of fondness for. it's a quick read that hits on this concept of ultimate betrayal in the aftermath of literally betraying someone else for that person. two people dealing with that, processing that, and what they'll do in the wake of all of this.

the title for this fic comes from the song "Birds" by BENN, who used to make CoD Zombies-based songs before rewriting/redoing them for his own original work!!

Portraits Under Forgotten Suns

A collection of short one-shot fics done for TESFest 2023. A werewolf in his cage, a Bosmer alchemists' first memory, a Dunmer mage's quiet contemplation, a humble keeper's last look at the place he's called home, a sailor's fate at the wreck of the Brinehammer, and an Altmer bard's fond summer memory.

as it says on the tin! its a series of one-shots i initially published to tumblr, then moved to Ao3 to make them more accessible and have a ready archive of them! i loved working on each of these, getting into different perspectives, and figuring out how to convey the narratives of the characters i worked with. i liked writing up details of my dragonborn trio's pasts, too, and the story for "Forgotten/Devotion" was a hell of a lot of fun, getting to pull the wreck of the brinehammer into a fic!

If by Sun and Moon I Swore

With the Empire's victory in the Skyrim Civil War, Hadvar has been quietly readjusting to regular life. When an old friend turns up at his door, that quiet he'd hoped for comes to a halt.

i love hadvar/ralof with all my wretched pining heart okay. i cannot deny this pair has a vice grip on me! and working with them, two soldiers touched by war on opposite sides who once had something (in this case, used to be (and still are) in love), can be something both so tragic and so healing. pulling this pair back together, giving them some form of comfort, even if it's brief, is such a joy. i have intentions of writing more for this couple in the future, but that's likely going to be a while. still, i'll be sure to let you guys know if i do get around to it!!

this fics title is from "Like The Dawn" by The Oh Hellos! its my quintessential hadvar/ralof song for sure <3

Cycle of the Serpent

Surviving Helgen by the skin of their teeth, three elves find themselves tossed into the middle of ancient legends, a civil war, and a hell of a lot of problems. They may all have different reasons for being in Skyrim, but if they have any hope of reaching their destinations alive, it lies in learning to trust their strange new companions… no matter what. From the ruins of Helgen to the plains of Whiterun, from the seas of Solitude to the grim frost of Winterhold, and everywhere sprawling beyond, the unlikely trio will find that being chosen by Akatosh is more than they've ever bargained for. And with their own histories crawling back, and secrets slowly spilled, the trio may find that there's little they can do to escape the cycles they've made.

this longfic is… a huge undertaking. "An Inner Sanctity" focuses on two very flawed people coming to love one another. "Cycle of the Serpent" focuses on three very flawed, extremely fucked up people learning to trust one another and face whatever fate awaits them together, even when that trust is tested, even when the world is cruel, even when trauma batters and bruises them in the current and then rises up from the briny depths of the past to tug them back down beneath. it's about sustained and sometimes self-fulfilling cycles of hurt, anger, and sometimes vengeance, and it's about love and joy and companionship and friendship that lives within it all.

in short, this longfic is one of my biggest undertakings in a very long time.

i started this as a bit of a joke. the idea of there being more than one LDB was a fun idea, and then i created three elves, and those three elves gave me their family histories and their childhood friendships and their previous travels and how it changed them all prior to helgen and i went… yeah i can't just not write this and go insane about it. these three and their various methods for dealing with situations, their triumphs and defeats, and how they bounce off one another became so organic and real to me that i feel continuously pulled to keep their narrative going. this story forced me to write my first ever combat scenes (posted the snippet of my second ever real combat scene tonight!) and learn how to navigate keeping it within TES lore, while also breaking out of some of the stale writing in skyrim itself. i have plans to rewrite/overhaul entire questlines and characters to give them more life, and i've got dozens of OCs lined up - at least one of whom is hinted at within the first chapter. i have this story and these characters arcs planned out, and they do get particularly grim at points, but i never want this story to go into "there is no hope" territory. there's always hope, it just lies in learning to break your own cycles, even if it feels like it may kill you.

the title of this fic was taken from the song "Pillar of Na" by Saintseneca, i very heavily envision emeros as the first verse, athenath as the second, wyndrelis as the third, with the fourth being all three of them, and the fifth (the "eternal, eternal, eternity round…") being a sort of ensemble of all the places and people they've touched in their lives.

woooooooooooooooo!! that was long-winded. thank you for listening to me ramble on these, and thank you so much again for tagging me, mareena!! i hope everyone is having a lovely wednesday/thursday!! <3333

[findingstony]

I haven't read this but had someone mention it so I don't know much details. It's a post civil war fic but not with a lot of focus on the conflict, mostly just a really apologetic Steve and a jaded Tony who loves him but doesn't want to. The title is from a Italian song but just the title, the fic is English.

Sounds like you're looking for "almeno tu nell'universo" by silkspectred!

Don’t forget to bookmark, comment, and leave kudos!

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817463

[ironfey-42]

Take My Hand and We’ll Dance the Morning Away

Barefoot Kitchen Waltz by Matt Mariano

Slow Dance by Chasing Lovely

Fly Me to the Moon/Lucky by Rick Hale feat. Breea Guttery

How Long Will I Love You by Ellie Goulding

All of Me by John Legend

I’m Yours by Jason Mraz

Endless Love by Lionel Richie, Diana Ross

Kiss from a Rose by Seal

Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

Cupid - Acoustic version by Girl’s Day English Translation

Bubbly by Colbie Caillat

God Only Knows Cover by Kina Grannis, Imaginary Future

The Rose Cover by Glee Cast

A Thousand Years by Christina Perri

Love is All We Need by Ajmw

Fallin for You by Peachy!, mxmtoon

ocean eyes by Billie Eilish

Electric Love by BØRNS

Love on the Brain by Rihanna

Love is by Davichi

The Story by Brandi Carlile

Love You Like A Love Song Cover by Noah Guthrie

Here Comes The Sun Cover by Glee Cast

Count On Me by Bruno Mars

Dance Me to the End of Love Cover by The Civil Wars

We’ll Meet Again by Vera Lynn

You Are the Reason by Calum Scott

This Love by Davichi

Tip of My Tongue by The Civil Wars

Spotify Youtube Playlist

this playlist goes along with the fic Take My Hand and We’ll Dance the Morning Away

the original lyric that the title comes from is we’ll dance the night away and not morning, but for the sake of the story, I changed night to morning.

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

Numb Little Bug

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54553084 by Spagoleon Bouncing from foster home to foster home, a mute Peter Parker eventually ends up in the arms of Sam Wilson. Maybe everything isn’t so bad… Words: 4175, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M, Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Wanda Maximoff, Vision (Marvel), Thaddeus Ross, Michelle Jones (Marvel), Ned Leeds Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Sam Wilson, Avengers Team Members & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark Additional Tags: don't expect regular updates with this one, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker & Sam Wilson Friendship, Sam Wilson Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Team as Family, Mute Peter Parker, Selectively Mute Character, Post-Movie: Captain America: Civil War (2016), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Renegotiated Sokovia Accords, Song: Numb Little Bug (Em Beihold), I'm honestly surprised at how little fics there are using this title for Peter angst, There's like two and they're both SpiderVerse, Foster Care, Sign Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Dead Aunt May Parker (Marvel) read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54553084

[henghost]

another schizopost

I was, as the Against Me! song suggests, a teenage anarchist. I read Kropotkin, Le Guin, Bonanno, and several Twitter accounts of dubious quality. These culminated in a state of mind that saw Worm fanfiction as the ultimate revolutionary medium — an infantile disorder indeed. My attempt centered Circus, namely as a means to get away with a winking title: "Panem et Circenses" (although certainly concerns of gender nonconformism were involved as well), and for all its many flaws I believe it grazed lightly against some vast truth of canon, the anarchist core of the parahuman universe. (NB: I am no longer an anarchist. I have nothing against those who are, but let me offer by way of critique a summary of the latter half of my aforementioned fic: due to disorganization, agents provocateur, and a dearth of productive capacity, the state — i.e. the PRT/Cauldron — overwhelms the plucky libertarian Undersiders to a brutal, gory end.)

I introduce this concept of parahuman anarchism as a preface to the primary topic of today's schizopost, which is the nature of the "shard," the passenger, the Corona pollentia, etc. How are we meant to read this quirk of world worldbuilding if, as one ought, we understand the system of triggering-shard-power as metaphor? Are we meant to understand this conflict-causing organ as what Nietzsche would call the will to power, the irrepressible drive toward strength and creation. Or — and this interpretation seems more analytically lucrative considering the Freudian overtones of the text in general — shall we read it as Thanatos, the death-drive, the desire for destruction unto a ceasement of excitation. Indeed, much of the function of powers resembles the psychoanalytic model, especially, as I have alluded to in an earlier post, with regard to the repetition compulsion. This way, we can understand the Endbringers as a form of neurosis, some sublimated trauma unleashed upon the entire world.

However, as much as Worm's Freudianism presents an easy hermeneutical framework, I believe that to understand the full political weight of the text it is necessary to rely upon a concept formulated by French insurrectionary anarchist collective Tiqqun, that of the form-of-life. The form-of-life is (as best as I can understand it; these frogs arent known for concreteness, much less accessibility) that organism which rests beneath whatever predicates (= descriptors or qualities, e.g., mother, worker, socialist, individual, etc.) have been forced upon you. They experience friendship or enmity at the micro scale, community and a constant state of civil war at the macro. This is crucial: civil war is the natural state for the form-of-life — war is its free play. 

This helps to explain the so-called cops and robbers dynamic that dominates much of the narrative. Tiqqun understands Empire (= the neoliberal state, for all intents and purposes) as an all-encompassing web of biopolitical tissue. There is no longer a society as such. In lieu of borders there is a customs checkpoint on every block, a Dragon drone beside every streetlamp, a panopticism that would have been unfathomable to the society of sovereignty. In the fissure between the form-of-life and the individual, the ego, there is a cop. (This citizen-cop has an outsize influence on Taylor, as can be seen in her turn toward the Wards, and in her humanistic moralizing more generally.) Empire (in our vocabulary, Cauldron) tolerates these violent crises because that is its wont. The gang war in Brockton Bay represents no threat to Empire/Cauldron because it has achieved utter immanence; there is nothing outside its purview. Panem et Circenses is more accurately rendered as Spectacle and Biopower. The only meaningful challenge to such a status quo comes in the form of Khepri. Tiqqun sees the workers’ strike as ineffectual — only a human strike will do, only the renunciation of the predicate, as in the feminist protests of the seventies: these women were no longer wives, no longer mothers, no longer women. In Khepri’s hivemind can be seen Tiqqun itself, which in Hebrew means rectification. (Remind me to talk more about shards in the context of Lurianic Kabbalah later on.) Khepri is nothing but her shard, Queen Administrator made manifest, and all her acolytes are in this similarly bare state, reduced to their forms-of-life. Khepri against Scion is civil war in its purest form, and only in this way is change possible.

[thethistlegirl]

Character Playlists Masterpost

So I have a thing whenever I get into a new fandom about finding songs that match the characters. I have...a few different current ones, as might be rather evident, so I'm going to make a list of songs I associate with the characters! If I've made an edit already associated with that song I'll link it to the song title. And this is going to get YouTube playlists made specifically for each one (Right now they're all jumbled in one big playlist called 'Write Things Heather', yes I am passive aggressive to myself in playlist naming) that I'll link to the character name!

Bill Cage (Edge of Tomorrow):

How Far We’ve Come - Matchbox Twenty

I Melt With You - Modern English

Must Have Done Something Right - Relient K

Joan of Arc - Arcade Fire

Love Don’t Die - The Fray

Sugar You - Oh Honey

The Proof of Your Love - For King and Country

Star Sky - Two Steps from Hell

Spin - Lifehouse

Meet Me on the Battlefield - SVRCINA

Ethan Hunt (Mission Impossible):

Touch - Sleeping at Last

Let Her Go - Passenger

Renegades - X Ambassadors

On Top of the World - Imagine Dragons

Carry On - Fun

Flares - The Script

Eight - Sleeping at Last

Back in Black - AC/DC

Jack Reacher:

Mercury - Sleeping at Last

Take it Easy - The Eagles

Bless the Broken Road - Rascal Flatts

Desperado - The Eagles - Fic: All Your Highs and Lows

Heart Like a Truck - Lainey Wilson

Ramble On - Led Zeppelin

Fast Car - Tracy Chapman

Life is a Highway - Rascal Flatts

Here I Go Again - Whitesnake

Heads Carolina, Tails California - Jo Dee Messina

Still the Same - Bob Seger

May I Miss You - Family of the Year

Hit the Road Jack - Ray Charles

Wait in the Truck - Hardy

Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Green Day - Fic: My Shallow Heart's the Only Thing That's Beating

Devil's Backbone - The Civil Wars

Broken - Lifehouse

Hero - Family of the Year

Oh What a Life - American Authors

Jack Harper:

Nine - Sleeping at Last

Earth - Sleeping at Last

Pluto - Sleeping at Last

You Wouldn’t Like Me - Sleeping at Last

Rocketman - Elton John

(Why all my Jack Harper songs are Sleeping at Last I have no idea other than that the whole band's sound just basically has Oblivion vibes-edit: now it's just most of them)

(Edit 2, I got sucked into DC Titans and have feelings about Hank so have another playlist...)

Hawk & Dove:

Shadows of the Night - Pat Benetar

Kids in America - Kim Wilde

Brighter Days - Blessing Offor

Battlefield - Jordin Sparks

21 Guns - Green Day

And if you want a feel for what my playlist for Top Gun and Maverick would be, go check out @nade2308 's gifsets because the song vibes are ALWAYS spot on!

note: @malewifebillcage I blame you entirely for how many times I listen to a song and go "oh no it's Bill and Rita"

[silcoitus]

Do your have recs for any good canon divergent Silco AU fics? (Silco x Reader and otherwise?) I especially would love any fic exploring his relationship with Jinx and being a Dad! Thank you!

Ooooooh okay okay give me a second to grab some links! All below the cut

And you'll have to forgive me: these fics aren't finished. Idk if that's gonna be a deal breaker for you. I hope it isn't because these are too good to skip.

Bend But Not Break by Constant-Fragmentation

It's only on ao3 and not done, but believe me it is worth it. It's a regency AU and it's beeeeaaauuuuutifully written. Absolutely S-tier Silco/reader fic with a young Powder/Jinx. This hits all the things you asked for.

To the Depths by @cognacandlilac

Pirate AU! Mentioned in the poem but worth a separate shout-out. Pirate Silco and Pirate Jinx! With a sassy reader who you can't help but love.

Love Thy Neighbor by @sherwood-forests

Modern AU with Silco and young Jinx being nextdoor neighbors to reader. The fluff is phenomenal and I love the little family dynamics of reader, Silco, and Jinx. If I ever get the chance to go stargazing, I will be dreaming of CEO Silco the entire time.

Barton Hollow by me

Okay I'm tossing my (cowboy) hat in, too. Western AU with outlaw Silco and outlaw Jinx. This one is finished and I'm very proud of it! Each chapter title is a song title from the band The Civil Wars, so highly rec listening to them!

Happy reading, anon!

Love,

Your local Silco dealer

[usmsgutterson]

LAVENDER HAZE- Nikolai Lantsov

Okay! First fic for the midnights event! For those who don’t know, Midnights is the album by Taylor Swift that came out a week and a half ago. In short, a bit of chaos between @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r​ and myself ensued and here we are!

I have a few things to clarify before we jump in, however. None of the fics in this event are song fics. Some of them will have lyrics from the song somewhere or the song title referenced, but I primarily based them off whatever the like, vibe of the song is? The fics will hopefully match the songs aesthetic pretty well, but if they don’t, I apologize in advance. 

Fic type- fluff

Warnings- none

The largest part of being a royal was being under public scrutiny near-constantly. At every single dinner, every gala, every time you showed your face, had an opinion to voice, you were critiqued. Notes about your outfit were made by journalists who’d later critique them in their gossip newspapers. Notes about the way you stood, what your expression was as you stood in front of a crowd.

People even made it their own prerogative to assume things about your relationship, to make assumptions and then to treat those assumptions as the truth, only to be confronted by the real truth when it smacked them across the face. They were hurt when it finally did, when the writers of the gossip newspapers saw you and Nikolai in public, hands interlaced, grins on your faces and love clear as day in your eyes.

Nikolai and yourself had been courting since before the civil war. You’d been around as long as he’d known Dominik, your relationship having begun at sixteen. The three of you enlisted in the First Army together, and when Nikolai took to his boats and the identity of Sturmhond, you’d been at his side, his partner in all things, love and war included.

“How do you do it, my love?” Nikolai asked as you stepped out of the carriage. The two of you would enter a building, enjoy two minutes of private time while you walked down a long corridor before you met a crowd. “How do you handle all of this with such cadence as you do? I wouldn’t mind knowing a few of your tricks.”

“You get used to it,” you said with a laugh. “I would’ve presumed you knew that. You’ve been handling this all your life, have you not?” Nikolai offered a mere shrug as the two of you proceeded up a long marble staircase.

“You seem to handle it better than I sometimes,” he said. “You handle it beautifully, Y/N.”

You took his hand, interlacing your fingers and pressing a kiss to his cheekbone. “I thank you for your compliments, but I’d rather not be blushing when we face the crowd, Nik. It’ll become all the news if I am. The writers will assume you’d told me something scandalous beforehand.”

Nikolai laughed, an easy, open laugh as the two of you reached the landing and the doors for the venue opened.

“Heaven forbid I make the love of my life blush when doing so is just so fun,” he said. “Oh, the gossip writers! Their dresses and suits will certainly be in knots if we dare!” You laughed, giving his hand a squeeze as he straightened his shoulders. About a minute into your walk down the corridor, Nikolai would straighten his expression to convey what seemed to be happy indifference, though the two of you both knew that you would rather be anywhere else than addressing a crowd.

“I love you, Nik,” you said.

He grinned as the two of you stepped past the venues threshold.

“I love you too,” he said.

The walk through the corridor was quiet, the pair of you heading down it and putting up the royal façade like it was second nature. Your shoulders straightened, expression nullified into simple indifference.

You’d long learned what to do to keep your relationship private, to keep the writers and their gossip from assuming much of anything. The people got what you gave them in terms of your relationship with Nikolai. They got your loving gazes as you watched one another across rooms, the fact that you didn’t shy away from holding hands or just looking like a couple when you were seen taking walks on tours throughout various Ravkan cities.

It was funny to you, really. Every single gossip column that you’d read in regards to yourself had always had a specific point of speculation. When would there be an engagement? You’d been seen with rings on your finger before, could that possibly mean that the Ravkan royal you loved had finally proposed, after nearly ten years together?

The doors to the crowd were opened, and you let yourself cast a look to your lover as the two of you stepped past the threshold and onto the stage. He met your gaze, grinning at you for only a moment before the both you had to turn your attentions to the crowd.

You found yourself fighting an eyeroll as you recognized the faces of several gossip writers. There was respect for them somewhere, but to be in attendance at an announcement about the reduction of the debts Ravka owed to other countries? There was nothing worthy of note there, unless they were going to treat the fact that the debts Ravka owed had gone down by thirty percent as a rumor, as something only being said to ensure that the Ravkan royals still looked good to the citizens, even though the thirty percent decrease was precisely the truth.

Or, perhaps, it seemed likely that they’d comment on you. Your outfit, your expression. How many times you glanced at Nikolai or how many times you glanced away from him. How long you kept your eyes on the crowd, because how dare you look at the group of people whom your spouse is addressing? The gossip writers liked to make scandals out of anything, and they’d surely find a way to make a scandal out of that. They’d twist a detail so that it looked how they wanted it to, take something out of context or just blatantly make something up. It was all that gossip writers tended to be much good for, anyway.

The announcement finished, and once again, you and Nikolai found yourselves walking down that corridor. You couldn’t hear it, but you knew that the gossip writers were rushing outside while you and Nikolai walked, prepared to shout questions, demand answers, and remain upset when no answers were given.

“You’re ready to be asked if we’re engaged for the umpteenth time?” Nikolai asked, steeling his shoulders as though preparing for it. “Oh, the gossip writers never stop, do they?”

You laughed, leaning your head against Nikolais shoulder for a moment. “They never do. I just don’t think it’s in their nature, but yes. I’m ready to face it. I’ve become more than capable of facing it since the civil war, have you not?”

The rumors of engagement, the talks of coronations and marriages, they’d been happening since Nikolai was crowned king. The two of you had long learned to ignore them, content to remain in your bubble of romantics away from the rest of the outside world. You were content to remain there and you would’ve preferred staying there rather than having to face the writers of the gossip mags who showed up where they weren’t needed.

The doors opened, the two of you stepped out, and instantly, you were bombarded.

“King Nikolai, you do realize that you need to find someone whom you can rule alongside in the coming years? You need to provide an heir to the throne before it is too late to do so!”

“King Nikolai, what is your relationship with your honorable consort like? Can you tell us any of the details?”

“Y/N, you were spotted with a ring on your finger just last week! Can you tell us whether or not you and the king are engaged? My readers would love to be the first ones to have such information!”

“Y/N! When is the wedding? Have you begun the planning process yet?”

“Y/N, how well have you accustomed to royal life since the start of the civil war?”

The words drowned out all others as the two of you cascaded down the steps, both of you eager to get to the carriage and a safe distance away from everyone who wanted every piece of your life, including the ones you remained unwilling to give.

As the carriage doors opened and the questions continued, Nikolai said the words that made a silence ring true over the crowd.

“My partner and I do not wish to comment on your questions, which were asked at a grossly inappropriate time. You may consider that an engagement would be so obvious that questions would not have to be asked. You may also consider that my partner and I do not owe you explanations of any kind. We thank you so much for your time, however, and bid you all good day.”

With the word, Nikolai and yourself both climbed into the carriage, grinning triumphantly as the doors closed and the voices stopped. He leaned across the space between the two of you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips and one to your hand before sitting back and closing his eyes.

“We did it,” he said.

You laughed. “Back to our perfect romance we shall go.”

Nikolai opened an eye, gave you a charming grin that had you falling head over heels all over again.

“I can’t wait,” he said. “I love every minute. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Nik.”

The romance you had with him was perfect, certainly, the lavender haze was worth every minute of fighting. Every minute of disagreement was worth it for all the perfect moments in between.

[tennisarchives]

Top 5 sad songs and Top 5 foods 🧡

anon oh my god i need you to know i did NOT mean to ignore you i just totally missed this in my inbox oops 😭 but anyway!

sad songs

“anak” by freddie aguilar -> this made me cry a lot as a teenager ngl. it’s a filipino song more or less abt having parents who do so much to care for you but you grow up and get into vices and then realize you went down the wrong path. yeah.

“safe & sound” by taylor swift ft. the civil wars -> like oh my god this song breaks me every single time in general but ALSO there’s another reason. several years ago i went abroad for a short vacation, during which i read a painful 300k fic titled after this song. i finished it on the plane ride back home, and the bittersweet ending plus the immense sadness of my vacation coming to an end got mixed into one big mess and i kept thinking of this song all the while. so yeah i was inconsolable for a few days, to the point that i actually cried in the middle of my high school homeroom one morning.

“turning” from les miserables -> this is my favorite musical and this song? ouch. the lyrics are painful enough but it’s only sung by the female ensemble so it’s high and chilling.

“reflection” from mulan -> a classic that will never stop hurting me. and it’s sung by lea salonga whose gorgeous voice makes it all the more ouch

“butterfly kisses” by bob carlisle -> okay i’m aware this probably isn’t a traditional sad somg exactly but. it makes me fucking sob. i get rly emotional abt the concept of growing up and my parents getting old so uh. yeah this one just makes me sad.

foods

fried chicken. the classic. the beloved. generally p good in any cuisine

beef noodles in chinese and taiwanese cuisine. when the broth is done right this is always sooooo good

grilled lobster. bougie answer but damn if that sea cockroach aint delicious

gyudon. thinly sliced beef and rice and egg um yes

taho. a filipino soy dessert that’s so delicious and perfect and yeah i will never get tired of it

[useyourtelescope]

1, 7, 34 for the fic asks!!<3

Thank you for the ask! :)

Compliment your writing!

I think I'm good at foreshadowing stuff - in my longer fics especially I like to try put down some hints in advance and its always nice when people make the connection.

7. Share the first line of your five most recently published fics

sure thing [Hyacinth/Gareth - Bridgerton, Modern AU, one-shot, E]

When Gareth entered the grand living room, he immediately became aware of the position Hyacinth Bridgerton occupied within it.

loving you is in my bones [Cesare/Lucrezia - The Borgias, Canon Divergence, WIP, E]

It was a warm evening as Lucrezia lowered her glass of wine in order to return the King of France’s genial smile, with no expectation that he was about to put her off the rest of her supper entirely.

forever (to see where you end) [Colin/Penelope - Bridgerton, Canon Divergence, WIP, T]

When Colin Bridgerton returned from his first tour abroad in 1814 and laid eyes on Lady Whistledown's inaugural novel, he did not give it a second thought.

(and then I have 5 fics all posted the same day for yuletide so I've just picked 2 in different fandoms)

Co-Location [Mabel & Charles & Oliver - Only Murders In The Building, Canon Divergence, one-shot, G]

It seemed to Mabel that you could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed Charles’s suggestion.

The Very Thought of You [Frankie/Bobby - Why Didn't They Ask Evans?, Post-Canon, one-shot, M]

Frankie has returned to Marchington for all of twenty minutes before she rings the garage.

(posting these all out has made me realise I do tend to just start and get going lol)

34. What title do you want to use, but can't figure out a story to fit?

One of the titles I've had saved for ages is '(i wish you were) the one that got away' from The Civil Wars song but I haven't had a story that really fit it yet.

fanfic writer ask game

[mihrsuri]

For the fanfic ask game: 3, 7, 12, 20 💜💜

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? Such A Time As This (Tudors). It’s a retelling/reinterpretation of the Purim Story with Anne Boleyn as Esther - specifically as Persian Jewish woman. It was so scary to post because it’s so deeply personal - I was writing my own identity as a biracial persian jewish woman into the threads and soul of this story and while there are things I would add/change now I am still so proud of it. A quote:

"You are talking of me, of my family" she wants to say to the courtiers when they sneer or repeat the stories about the Jewish monsters who steal babies to make matzoh and mix the blood in with their gold and have poisoned all the wells in France. But it would do no good at all). And she should be used to hearing this - as it has been around her all her life and it would not change - to be Jewish was to be safe nowhere.

7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now? I am not including actual WIPs that have words here but a list (feel free to ask questions about if wanted):

The West Wing Dystopia

Multifandom Sex Slave AU aka ‘that is yours, I am not’

President Joanna Bartlet and her wife Abbey

Robert Dudley Travels Back In Time

Gregory Cromwell Has Some Feelings

Jane and John Dudley????

Hot Thomas Boleyn Rights

English Civil War: AU Edition

Tough Scenes In Fictional In Universe Version Of The Tudors

Choreographer Interview

TWW Ballet AU

Persian Jewish Sara Crewe

Race Bent LOTR graphics

Helen Norwich

Girl H7/Boy EOY

Liam shows up in George’s office with an iced coffee

OT3 verse next gen (Anne Tudor-Dudley)

Tudor Ships + Taylor Swift

Robert proposes to Elizabeth

12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP(s)? Share it!

20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written? I personally believe that Only Wore This Doublet (So You Could Take It Off) is a genius title/rif on the Taylor Swift lyric ;). (Tudors, Robert Dudley/Elizabeth I and for some reason it contains knife kink)

[qs63]

20 and 36 for the writer ask!

Thanks for the ask!

20. Do you work on a single project or many at the same time? How does that work for you?

I try to work on a single project at a time, but that doesn't always work... My writing is quite chaotic and I just go with the flow. If that means 4 concurrent WIPS... Well it is what it is.

36.How do you come up with fic titles? What's the one you're most proud of?

Sometimes they come from songs, like "Voices of the Court" comes from the song "Voices of the Chord". Most of the times I just go with whatever comes to mind that reminds me of the fic.

One I'm proud of is "Attrition warfare", that one I came up with while writing the fic. I thought how much the civil war must have been a "Guerra de desgaste" on the Ishvalan side, and how ironic it was that the east troops wouldn't want to fall into a similar position while fighting the central city troops. I like it because it also fits how worn out Roy is during the Ishval part of the fic.