#borra angst

[writethrough]

To celebrate reaching 500 followers, I’ll be introducing a new character! Please vote for the character you’d most like to read about next! And let me know what you wanna see in the comments.

[tyongbrat]

Avisos: angst + smut! Menção ao chenle!

🥀

Inicialmente isso era pra ser uma longfic, então me perdoem se parecer um pouquinho sem contexto! É meu primeiro angst.

Suas mãos trêmulas seguram o volante com força, você tenta segurar as lágrimas, mas elas caem quente pela sua face, escorrem borrando a sua maquiagem. Um flashback da briga com seu namorado repassa diante dos seus olhos, você bate com os punhos no volante e grita até doer a sua garganta. Acelera pelas ruas molhadas, só para quando vê o prédio dele.

A chuva borra o resto da maquiagem, você enche os pulmões de ar antes de adentrar o prédio dele, aperta o nove no elevador sabendo bem o andar dele, o coração dispara quando as portas abrem, você sabe o que vai encontrar lá dentro, mas não tá preparada.

Aperta um, duas, três vezes a campainha, tenta não parecer desesperada, mas você está. A figura magra surge na sua visão quando a porta abre, os cabelos desgrenhados, a calça preta justa com os joelhos rasgados, os óculos pendendo no nariz.

E ele te olha confuso, analisa a sua situação. Você não sabe por onde começar e ele 'ta cansado demais dessa situação, não quer ver você, mas você já está ali, parada na porta dele, ensopada de um temporal, visivelmente cansada.

— cara, cê tá fazendo o que aqui? — e você repete a pergunta na sua cabeça "o que você tá fazendo ali?"

— mark, por favor... — tá implorando, mas não sabe bem o que você quer...

O corpo magro afasta da porta pra você entrar, grande erro. Vocês dois, sabem que depois que você passar pela porta o ciclo vai se repetir.

Você inala o cheiro de cigarro de canela do apartamento, alguns papéis rabiscados estão espalhados no chão do apartamento, o violão encostado no sofá, ele tava compondo.

— então cê voltou escrever? — vira-se pra encarar o homem visivelmente tenso, os braços cruzados no peito, ele te olha com uma sobrancelha arqueada.

— você dirigiu quase uma hora de uma cidade pra outra pra me perguntar sobre isso? — ele se aproxima em passos lentos, como se você fosse quebrar com a proximidade dele.

E você não recua, não quer recuar. Anda até ele, ele sabe o motivo da visita, sabe muito bem que você só procura ele quando seu relacionamento com zhong chenle está desmoronando.

— o que ele fez dessa vez? — questiona. Uma das mãos dele limpa o borrado do rímel, e a outra coloca uma mexa do seu cabelo molhado atrás da orelha.

Você não evita abraçar o corpo dele, envolve os braços na cintura despida, sente o calor da pele dele, inala o cheiro... A maldita droga no qual você viciou.

A chuva torrencial desse dia lembra o dia no qual você conheceu Mark Lee. Ele vestindo aquele velho moletom verde, as mãos no bolso te observando de longe, um sorriso torto no rosto ao te ver sorrir para as pessoas, e então ele entra em cena, briga com você na frente de todos, você corre pro banheiro e Mark não pode evitar sair de cena pra ir te encontrar.

Ele é um bom garoto, limpa as suas lágrimas como hoje, te leva pra casa e te beija na chuva. E vocês repetem isso por meses, mas você nunca convida ele pra entrar, nunca dá um passo a mais, e sempre responde o mesmo "preciso me resolver", mas nunca resolve nada, sempre volta pro zhong.

Você guardou Mark como um cardigã velho, veste ele escondido de todos, mas não acha que ele é bom o suficiente pra sair na rua. E Mark está cansado disso.

— Não posso mais te ver — sussurra — Ele sabe de tudo.

— E você tá aqui — você pode sentir a voz magoada dele, Mark não faz o tipo raivoso, mas você sabe que ele tá com raiva — vai embora, por favor.

Ele tenta afastar teu corpo, entretanto você não solta, não quer deixá-lo. Não agora.

— posso dormir aqui? — suas mãos deslizam a cintura dele, tenta encarar os olhinhos de jabuticaba, mas acaba vacilando no caminho.

Ele ri com escárnio, não pode acreditar que você é tão insensível, você tem noção dos sentimentos dele. E você sabe de quantas coisas Mark abriu mão para estar com você nos últimos meses, ele deixou encontros, parou de fumar, deixou os velhos amigos da escola porque chenle frequentava o grupo acompanhado da sua presença...

— acho você melhor ir — ele avisa — se ficar aqui vai ser mais difícil para nós dois.

Você até tenta contestar, mas ele não deixa você falar. Beija os teus lábios como se pudesse arrancar as verdades que você nunca disse, os lábios dele envolvem os teus num beijo raivoso, a mão dele arranha a tua cintura, corpos colados como se dependesse disso.

— eu quero estar com você, mas você não quer estar comigo. — ele sussurra com a boca colada na tua. E você choraminga.

Envolve o pescoço dele com os braços, volta a beijá-lo, a maciez dos lábios te emaranha em um beijo sem fim. Ele puxa tuas pernas pra envolver a cintura dele, te leva até o quarto.

E antes de te colocar na cama você da uma boa olhada no local, o abajur deixando o quarto com um tom alaranjado, um poster de uma banda que provavelmente é muito mais legal do que qualquer coisa que você vai ouvir em toda a sua vida, violões pendurados na parede, a silhueta de uma mulher pintada em um quadro... A sua silhueta, você encara os olhos dele, mas ele não te dá tempo pra perguntar.

— ainda dá tempo de ir pra sua casa, pro seu namorado...

Mas você vira o rosto, não quer responder, não quer ir pra casa. Está em casa.

Ele avança no teu corpo, pela primeira vez ele não se policia, acaba chupando o teu pescoço, deixando marcas vermelhas por toda a parte, morde teu queixo, suspira quando teus olhos encontram os dele.

O rosto todo corado, você sente o coração pulando pela sua boca quando ele desce os beijos pelo abdômen coberto pelo vestido, a mão direita aperta tua coxa e a esquerda quase não dá conta de apertar teu seio. Ele se desdobra em vários pra arrancar aquele vestido colado encharcado do teu corpo, joga em qualquer canto do quarto, tira o que sobrou da roupa dele. O teu corpo gelado esquenta conforme o corpo dele se esfrega por toda a parte, vocês quase se tornam um só.

Os teus braços são presos no topo da cabeça, ele envolve teus pulsos com uma mão, a perna direita serve de ajuda pra espaçar as tuas. O íntimo dele faz fricção na tua perna, molha por onde passa, é uma sensação nova pra você ter Mak Lee tão vulnerável, tão entregue.

Os beijos nunca cessam, ele faz pressão lá, você suspira pesado ao sentir ele entrando duro, é quase como se não tivesse espaço, a sensação de queimação apertada é gostosa, te invade diferente de tudo que já provou, você não quer comparar mas é impossível quando Mark Lee sem fazer esforço te acerta lá. Ele não precisa de força, ele tem jeito, é gostoso quando ele se permite gemer em coro com você, quando a mão livre se encarrega de entrar entre vocês depois pra te estimular.

Você tem certeza que a única vontade dele é te dar prazer, sente teu corpo apertar quando ele acha o ângulo certo, ele vem lento até estar quase todo fora, depois volta com força, ele não para de te beijar, não para de gemer, de te masturbar. Tuas pernas tremem, ele sorri ao sentir, ele sabe que você tá quase lá, tá quase atingindo.

— tô me segurando pra não gozar, amor. — ele avisa.

E você quer gritar pra ele gozar, gozar dentro e te encher dele. O pensamento insano de ter um filho com ele é o primeiro na sua mente, você quer tanto ele te enchendo dele, quer se sentir estufada.

— goza, Minhyung — você sabe o que tá fazendo quando usa o nome dele assim, sabe o que quer quando geme com a voz manhosa pra ele fazer um filho em você.

— não faz assim, princesa — e ele também tem noção o quanto aquele apelido te afeta.

E vocês dois estão quase lá quando o seu celular começa a tocar de forma insana, não só mensagens como ligações, a tela acende diversas vezes. Seu coração quase pula pra fora do peito, você não consegue ver o nome, mas sabe de quem se trata.

É quase como se pudesse sentir a fúria de Mark quando ele solta teus pulsos, mas não para de meter em você, ele não vai parar e você tem noção disso quando o corpo dele levanta apenas pra puxar a tua perna colada na cintura dele. A mente nublada pelos gemidos roucos dele, as pernas voltando a tremer quando sente os jatos quentes te atingirem fundo, e tu goza também, goza pela sensação, pelos gemidos, goza quando vê a cabeça de Mark sendo joga pra trás e os dentes maltratando os lábios. Mark Lee é fodidamente lindo.

Vocês dois saem da bolha de torpor quando o celular de Mark começa a tocar também, ele desliza pro teu lado na cama tentando recobrar onde deixou o próprio celular, e você estica o braço pra pegar no chão junto com a calça dele. De soslaio você consegue visualizar a mensagem piscando na tela.

"pode achar que ganhou, mas ela sempre volta pra mim"

[trashiewrites]

can you maybe do a fanfic for mw2 2022 that the reader gets kidnapped and soap or ghost has to save them

OH HOHO HO

THis one is a two-parter!

A/N: SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE FOREVER!!! NOT ONLY WAS I HAVING A WRITER'S BLOCK BUT ALSO TMNT TOOK OVER MY LIFE SO HERE WE GO!! I AM GONNA DO ALL THE REQUESTS I GET I SWEAR!! Without further delay, enjoy!

Took You Long Enough: Part 1

(Soap x F!Reader)

(Trigger warning: light angst, mentions of violence and death) if case idk if anyone need these Moreofthismainlyinpart2 maybe maybe

"I don't see why I can't go with you guys!" You protested to Soap, "you guys need all the help you can get to get those missiles!" You grabbed his arm, as he continued to walk past. It's not in your nature to question orders but this doesn't make sense to you.

"I get it (Y/n) but that's not your choice to make!" Soap whipped around to face you; his face as serious as he could manage. "I don't quite get LT.'s thinking either but it's not our place to question it. Plus, you get the privilege of interrogation against our little drug lady."

"I don't see how that could be helpful... she already told us where the missile is." You shrugged, "if anything, Ghost is the better interrogator. At least more efficient..."

"Efficiency isn't the focus here lass," Soap grasped firmly to your shoulders, "LT trusts you to get some more info on where she is taking Hassan. I trust you to do it if anyone can; it's you."

"But what if-" you said before being pulled into an embrace. Soaps arms wrapped tightly around you but yet so gentle, his warmth making you melt deeper into the hug. He placed one hand firmly upon the top of your head.

"We will be back before you know it, (y/n)."

——————————————

Watching as the boy boarded the heli was bittersweet, to say the least. Soap's talk yesterday did help you get the idea that it wasn't as pointless as you thought. But the lingering fear of something bad happening just around the corner was irking you. To be honest, you could care less about the actual mission, as much as it was your job that wasn't why you wanted to go.

John Mactavish, your sergeant, you had always been fond of. You both knew each other in your last platoon before the 141. He was the one who recommended you to the captain, who surprisingly agreed. To say you two were close was a gross understatement, in your head at least...

You do one final salute as they head up, John with a sly smirk also gives you a small heart with his fingers. You smile, standing there till the heli is no longer in sight. Heading back inside you went into Alejandro's office; you were glad he allows you to use it to gather your thoughts and prep for interrogations. He also states that if you need anything then call for one of his troops. They have been instructed to do as you ask within reasonable means of course. You lean back in the plush chair, writing notes on how you wanted to begin your approach. ————————————————-

To no one's surprise, the drug lord is a tough cookie. In the beginning, not spilling a word. Secondly, you dug into her relationship with Alejandro. Perhaps her getting riled up would have her slip a thing or two. Within the first day, you had managed to get that they didn't stop the trade for Hassan. Despite their Boss being taken hostage.

"No les importa que yo esté aquí. No importa si muero, El Sin Nombre sigue vivo." Valeria spoke, she spoke deeply with a sick grin on her face. "My legacy will live on even if you decide to kill me now. Especially in the stupid states."

"What do you mean?" You grabbed her by the collar, "Where did you send Hassan; what is he planning?"

"Like I'd say anything to you, puta~" you backhand her straight in the face. Grabbing her face and crushing her cheeks with your hand.

"¡Borra esa puta sonrisa de tu cara, zorra!" You growled, "how could you be proud of yourself, you betray your people, Your home!"

"You know nothing of my home." You punched her gut; you watched as her head dropped low. Taking a deep sigh, and taking a break outside would probably help calm your nerves. Opening the container door, you covered your eyes as the sun blinded your vision. Walking just past the guard stationed in front, you rubbed your temples. Quiet footsteps move behind you.

"No need to cover the door," you raised your hand, "I'm gonna hea-" within moments you felt an arm wrapped tightly around your neck and a cloth held over your mouth. They kicked your shins, having using legs no longer your first thought. After harshly struggling you felt your consciousness slip, fading quickly to an empty void.

Upon stirring awake, eyes flutter open. Your head pounding mixed with the coldness of the surroundings. You attempted to move your arms, hearing an unmistakable clanging of metal chains. You were cuffed? Your mind raced, how in the world did this happen? Where were you and how do you get yourself out of this shit hole? Taking a moment to clear up your thoughts, taking a very needed deep breath. You noticed people talking loudly outside the cell. "You know what happens to those two British guys?" Americans... is Graves behind this? "Yeah, I heard they both fled. One was wounded though." 

"Serves them right, you don't fuck with the commander!" one laughed aloud, "speaking of which!"

"Where's the girl," Graves's voice sounded stern, he was not here for a happy chit-chat; you knew that much... But once you find out what the hell is going on you're going to murder that man yourself... "Open that cell"

"Yes, commander." Both men said in unison. How the mood dropped, silence so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Broken by the screeching noise on the cell doors. There stood the tall man with a disgruntled face.  You stared in horror as behind him two men pulled an unconscious Alejandro behind him. 

"Graves... What have you done?" You stared at him in disbelief... "How could you? After all we have been through!"  

"It's nothing personal beautiful~" Graves crossed his arms, leaning against the frame of the cell doors, "Just a change in command, that's all. Daddy's in charge now!" You felt yourself wanting to vomit hearing such foul words exit his mouth. How crude... Classic for him and his people if you were honest. "Now with how gracious I am, I am giving you a choice. Get out of this heaping shit pile and work beside me, or rot in this rusty pothole!"

"Graves..." You stood up, arms forced down to your side due to chain restrictions, "Where is Soap and Ghost?"

"You worried about those wanna-bes? Those traitors?" Graves chuckled, "Fine, I'll tell ya! Ghost, man is probably running for his life right now from my men! Begging for mercy! I can imagine it myself." You clenched your fist, the thought in your head that this is what he has thought about us this whole time... Our brothers in arms your ass... "And Lil'Soapy boy! Oh," He rubbed his hand on his chin...  "My men shot him up pretty well! I wouldn't see it impossible that he's bleeding out in the streets right now!"

"YOU BASTARD!" You lunged forward, pulled back once again by the chains. Grave's laugh haunted you, not a hint of remorse just utter amusement. "WE TRUSTED YOU! YOU AND YOUR TEAM WERE OUR BROTHERS!" 

"Keyword, 'were' my dear! " Graves eyes within a moment were back to those of a dead cold killer, smiling like a greedy bastard. "You see, 'Brothers' was revoked when they weren't so willing to uphold the chain of command. Now tell me," Graves walks forward to you, "What happens when a small puppy barks at the big vicious dog?" 

"What?" you snarled, and he extended his hand. Grabbing your face and pressing down your cheeks so tightly as to crush your jaw. 

"You. Get. Bit..." Graves lets go, swiping his leg under your feet. You fell back to the floor with a harsh thud. "Now, I'd love to chat more... but I have a lot of work to do!"  he laughed once again before heading to the cell door. "Say. Let me know when you take me up on that offer earlier. Still stands till whenever I guess!"

"Go fuck yourself Graves!" You yelled back at him, "You'll pay for this! I SWEAR IT!"

"Tell me when~" He grinned, "Close her up boys!" As the doors closed you were once again left to your thoughts... Your head was empty, no matter how much you tried only one thing haunted you... 

"John..." You hugged your knees close, resting your head as tears unknowingly flew down your face. "I-I knew I should have come with you..."

Part 2! Out now!

[ragdollrory]

For the ship ask, what do you think of Korrasami, Makorra, Borra, and Korvira?

Hiii thanks for the ask!! 🤗

So, Korra's ships are like- not a thing I'm entirely interested in. I guess mostly because of the way the show managed the whole love triangle thing, and the awkwardness and stuff, but also because I tend to cling to the older characters in most media. Or at least in animations. But I'll do my best with these!!

🧡 Korrasami: I would've liked to see more of this to make an informed opinion. I know there are comics, but I haven't read any of them, honestly. I think they look great together, power couple and all that, but I know I'm not even scratching the surface.

🤎 Makorra: Not my ship, truly. Besides the honestly awful start the show gave them, I just don't feel they'd work out in the long run. Their personalities are too clashing, and I think they both need to do some work on themselves and their communication skills if somethings going to happen there.

💚 Borra: Good friends, great buddies, not shipping material for me.

❤️ Korvira: The angst here is a very interesting angle, and I'm all for angsty ships. I haven't read any fics for it, but the art for it is very good, and I'd be interested to read some if there's any recs 👀

Adding an extra one here, because poly is my jam, but if you have any Korvirasami (is that the name?) recs, that would be interesting too. Or your own thoughts on these ships as well!! 🤗

Ship game!

[eternalstrigoii]

For Posterity

Borra (Maleficent: Mistress of Evil) x Desert Warrior Dark Fey Reader

                 “Isn’t it morbid?” you wondered aloud as you sauntered into Ulstead palace’s great hall. “Even for you?”

Borra followed you, the quiet pad of your bare feet on marble floors accentuated by the soft brush of your dark pinfeathers. “Do you not want to?”

You pretended to consider it. He was intense. Always had been. It was an attractive quality even when it meant watching him clutch iron until he broke out in a sweat, pitting the expectation that he would be severely wounded in battle against his desire not to falter even if he was.

There were two chairs at the end of otherwise lightly furnished room. The larger was made of solid wood, slightly gilded, and well-cushioned, but it was the one beside it that held  your interest. There was almost no chance that its glimmering plating wasn’t iron, though it had been done in ornamental dragon-scale. It was smaller, less well padded, though you imagined someone your size might be able to climb on it comfortably if you didn’t try to turn around after.

You lifted your hands to the leather buckle at the back of your neck. Even parted your hair over your shoulders to let him watch you undo it.

“I always want you, Borra.” You dropped your hands to the other leather fasten at your side, both part of the same beast that forged your chest-plate. And, before the approach of his feathers upon the stone reminded you too much of a sashaying ball gown, you dropped the top half of your armor to the floor.

Now you were on even ground, in your trousers and gauntlets and nothing else.

Well, nothing else but the bandage mortal healers wove around his arm and the one wrapped around your mid-back where someone’s bolt had broken skin. You were lucky it hadn’t clipped a wing.

Your back collided with his chest, his warm, rough palms settling at your hips. He pushed your hair back from the leaf of your ear with his lips and whispered, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

His touch trailed up your sides. Talons brushed your ribs. You were molten before he even reached your chest, and the place he found on your shoulder was one of his favorites – always exposed in the overlap of your armor, so every mark he left there was for all the world to see.

You purred your approval.

“Is this how you want me?” you whispered, letting your voice drop another octave. “Bared for you, on my knees?” You almost asked if he wanted you to pretend to be one of them so he could rut his aggression out, but you had the sense not to (and it wasn’t just because he’d gathered your hair in one of his hands to expose your newly-bared throat).

He growled, the low rumble in his chest making your hips shift against his. “You’re not on your knees yet.”

You knew what he wanted. If you agreed, it was to be of your own volition, not because he’d asked you to.

You turned your head. Brushed your lips over his. The summer heat of his breath caught between you, and you nearly purred again at the sight of his lowered eyelids – how readily both of you responded to the other.

You undid your trousers. Shucked them off even as the brush of his talons teased your sides. And, without missing a beat, you fanned out your large, dark wings and climbed onto the now-goat queen’s gilded throne.

Iron bit your flesh, even through the wrapping of your gauntlets. It stung the worst at your knees, which you settled on the edge. You made a pretty offering of yourself, your back deliberately arched so he could see the power of your muscles while you braced your weight on the arms of the ornamental chair.

He had no business letting his eyes linger on you. You thought they must’ve, even as you heard the rush of fabric collapsing to the floor.

He wrapped your hair around his hand, the other coming to rest on the iron throne in front of yours.

“I do like you like this,” he whispered, and the sudden snap of his hips joined you with him. You gasped with pleasure despite the burning of your skin.

There was no teasing preface. Not this time. You were not his conquest, but conquest was the objective all the same – no kingdom had fallen, though both sides knew loss. Your victory had come at a stalemate, and you hadn’t even been able to vanquish your enemy properly – dispatch her like the rabid animal she was. So he fucked you on her throne, laid claim to a symbol of your enemy’s power after she’d fallen since you could get satisfaction in no way else.

Not yet, anyhow. But that was a concern for another time.

The way he moved inside you made your claws screech against the iron scaling. You were both panting, the heat and the pain cropping up like afterthoughts, making your legs buck when one of the curved edges pressed into your calf and making him grip you tighter as you shifted to clutch the curved back, your nails digging trenches that made several iron scales chip away. They dropped to the floor with a musical sound, one after the other.

You made no effort to quiet yourself. Quiet growls became sharp, half-human cries when he hit that spot inside you, peeling your burning thighs off the rounded junction of the arms. “Ah, stars, come closer.”

He obliged, settling his weight between them. He boosted you better onto the cushions, as though that did much but help peel layers of your flesh off. You could’ve laughed, though you were more intent upon working your hips against his as the chair protested your collective weight. He settled his knee between yours, giving you the option to climb over him and make the bulk of the iron his problem.

You took it, paused just long enough to push him down onto the biting iron beneath so you could climb onto his lap.

He hissed in pleasure-pain.

“Is this what you wanted of your victory?” You gripped his chin. His eyes were ablaze as you moved, sinking onto him, grinding, withdrawing only to be pulled back down.

“Harder,” he growled.

You obliged. He moved with you like you were truly joined by your shared epicenter, his hips as fluid as yours even without the grip of your knees. His hands palmed the new burns on your legs, and you gripped him there, shielding only those parts of you while you rode him.

He arched off the back of it, pulling you down to work your hips in tighter circles. His wings flared, and yours beat once, unnecessarily hard.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “So beautiful. I feel you nearing. Go on. Scream for me.”

Your talons bit trenches into the leather around his wrist. You did, and you let him rise to meet you when he reached his peak so the flutter of tension in his stomach made your body melt.

You stung. Actually, you hurt, and the wounds on your calves were only getting worse. You’d never be able to explain them, but there would be a few on the backs of his thighs that couldn’t be accounted for either.

Neither of you lingered. Not there. You gripped his shoulder and he, your back, and you let him lift you to rest on the cool, stone floor.

“Not bad,” you admitted. “Glad to have tried it, probably won’t do it again.”

He laughed. His body folded over yours, fingers laced in your hair. You got a generous amount of kissing for your trouble, not that it would magically erase the new round of bandages you’d both need, but you smiled into it anyway.

At least, until you heard footsteps. Then you grinned, and he caught the wickedness in your eyes and moved to gather the pile of your forgotten clothes.

“Why should we run off?” you whispered, grinning as he tossed you your clothes.

“Shrike is coming.” He flashed you a grin that you knew came with trouble, and you stifled your laughter long enough to pull on your trousers and make a swift departure with him at your back.

You heard the clamor of armor getting tossed into the royal throne, and then a long and painful silence.

“Suren!” she was angry. “Borra!”

Early birds and worms and all that, you thought, cackling as you took off into the night with the decoration of your well-earned scorch marks on display.

[raointean]

Maleficent 2 and Descendants prompt 2

Look at my last post with this title for the premise. Basically Udo, after looking for the missing fey for some time (because the non captured fey have no idea what happened) finally finds the Isle of the Lost and enters it using a portal that works so only he can go back and forth. He’s horrified by the conditions. Starving children, children without shoes in a biome that definitely requires shoes, fey children with clipped wings, etc. He comes across Borra who takes him aside and explains everything. Long story short, Udo becomes a sort of mail man to and from the isle.

[madamebaggio]

“Your father broke our agreement.” He growled at Catia. “He proved to be just was untrustworthy as every other human I’ve ever met.”

“No, it’s not possible!” Catia cried. “He wouldn’t do that!”

“He already did!” He bellowed, furious beyond belief. “He attacked the Moors and took what we have.”

“It can’t be…” Catia sobbed.

“This whole agreement has been called off.” He warned her. “Now we prepare for war.”

***

Notes: Remember you can always find more about the Fleet here.

[lightningbenders]

Ok but literally Borra was the most wholesome, sweetest, cutest thing ever and I!!!! will never!!! be over them!!!! Or the injustice served upon them by both canon and the fandom!!!!

Bolin literally has like giant heart eyes for Korra from the SECOND he sees her!!! He constantly compliments her and tells her how amazing he thinks she is and shows her nothing but love and support even when she doesn’t return his feelings and just!!!!! WHY were they never given a fighting chance!!!!!

[ghostedgrim]

I'll write for.

Fandom Etiquette vital to know

(Smut:🌶|| slight nsfw✨️|| romance❤️|| platonic👍|| other💥)

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Eric Divergent 🌶✨️🩷👍💥

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3 slots available (Free to send requests but I'm currently on hiatus)

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What I won't write:

I will write angst, unless it's about one of the characters dying, I'm not mentally stable enough for that stuff man

Pregnancy, or kids, I'm don't want kids, I barely tolerate them and i fear the harm caused to ones body via pregnancy, that'll definitely wind up showing in my writing, so if you're looking for fluffy pregos, or person vs kids I'm not the one.

I may add implications of SH, but never in detail, it can be triggering for some, and as someone whom hasn't SH I'm not taking the risk of offending or hurting anyone

SA, once again only vauge mentions, it is very triggering for many.

•What I will write•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎●

Fluff

Slight NSFW

Smut (but only for some characters)

Humor

Character x reader/character

Character vs reader

Character + oc

Adventure

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feel free to come back from time to time to check out what requests I'm taking, it'll change from time to time. I don't mind working with people to write something they want.

Masterlists

Borra (Maleficent)

Eric (Divergent)

Ramattra (Overwatch)

The Bad Batch

(I probably have other ones that I have failed to find)

[momochizoey]

Korra for the pairing ask! 😊

Ooh, Korra! Let's see what I can think of!

My NOTP for them 

Probably Tarrlokorra. I've seen it, but he's just, very slimey (and also, bending supremacist cop)

My BROTP for them

Borra! Bolin and Korra have, like, perfect bro vibes together to me! They went on one date, it was weird, and decided they were just good friends, and I love that for them.

My OTP for them 

As much as I like Korrasami, and I'd put them in first in specific scenarios, my addiction to enemies to lovers tells me it's gotta be Korvira. I know, I know, Kuvira is a terrible person, however! She's hot and very much my type. Plus, that finale was one hell of an emotionally charged moment between Korra and Kuvira. Like, Korra jumping in front of a gigantic laser to save Kuvira, them being weirdly spiritually mirrored by the blast, and then ending up in each other's arms in a field of pink spirit flowers? That shit's gay af.

My second choice pairing for them 

Korrasami, though like I said, it would've been first in specific situations (say, Asami as an equalist, and Korra actually doing something about non-bender discrimination? Love that so much). They're very cute together, and also, both hot af.

My fluffy pairing for them

Korrasami is already a lot of fluff, but hm, if I had to pick a different ship... Korrazula? The way I have those two meet is a No War AU (shameless self plug, it's called Thunder And Lightning Make My Heart Beat Faster (but you do it all the time) on my AO3, check it out if you want) and is pretty fluffy! If they live in the same time period, Azula would be such a great firebending teacher for Korra.

My angsty pairing for them 

I mean, Korvira is already Very angsty, not sure anything can top that. I guess Korralin could be angsty in a forbidden love kind of way? Korra/Suyin (Koryin? Surra?) too for similar reasons (plus Su is married and has kids, there's some extra tension of having to keep it secret there). But those are pretty weak angst compared to Korvira really.

My favorite poly ship for them 

Korvirasami! Love it! Why choose one when you can have both? Plus, extra angst in different form, can never say no to that.

My weirdest pairing for them

Korra/Zhu Li! (Korra Li? Zhurra?) It's not common, but I like Zhu Li, she does the thing and she does it well. Also, I'm not a fan of Varrick, Zhu Li deserves better, and if Korra can be that better? Wonderful!

[ao3feed-klance]

En tu olvido yo moriré

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/JSiEn0z

by Pattyto35

«Un hilo rojo conecta a aquellos que están destinados a encontrarse, sin importar tiempo, lugar o circunstancias. El hilo se puede estirar o contraer, pero nunca romper». Así que permítanme el poder de cambiar las reglas, déjame alterar el destino y separa a estas almas. Borra su encuentro, rompe su destino y déjalos que elijan su propio camino.

Advertencia: Autolesión del personaje, sangre, descripción gráfica y angustia. Si es un detonante para ti, por favor no leas. Mantén tu mente sana siempre.

Words: 6472, Chapters: 1/2, Language: Español

Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk (Voltron), Allura (Voltron), Blue Lion (Voltron)

Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)

Additional Tags: Soulmates, Red thread, Angst, Langst, Unrequited Love, at least in the first chapter, Not Really Unrequited Love, Self-Harm, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance has depression, Protective Blue Lion (Voltron), Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Flashbacks, A LOT of Angst, Pining Keith (Voltron)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/JSiEn0z

[writethrough]

The WIP Tag Game

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

Thank you for tagging me, @steph-speaks! 😊

I don’t even know where to start! I have so many WIP for lots of fandoms. Here are just a few:

Finnick Odair friends to lovers situation

Various Avatar the Last Airbender/Legend of Korra fics for a whole spectrum of characters

Flightless

Witch

The Evolution of Us

Only One

I've Got You

Bad Boy Type (Part II)

A Sign of Heat

004

Malcolm Bright Request

*Titles are subject to change

Tagging: @bookshelf-dust, @billysbabyy, @alloftheimagines

[kidney9-9]

Idk if you do Borra (maleficent) if you don't can you just do Bucky? One where she's mesmerized by his wings (or arm for Bucky) and she touches the wings or arm w/out thinking and he flips out on her and scares her?

Hi anon! I’m not doing Borra/maleficent requests at the moment because I still need to watch the movies! In the future I might start doing them! But I love this request, I hope you enjoy this one :)

feel free to send in any requests you guys want to see! 

Masterlist

Bucky x Reader (Angst/Fluff!) No warnings except for one lil swear Word Count: 497

The glimmering silver plates stuck out to you the moment he stepped into the door. It was your first day working as Tony’s assistant, and Bucky came in for a check up on his metal arm. You had only seen pictures of it before, and my goodness did you think it was stunning. So, when he walked through the door, you felt your heart start to race at the sight of his metal arm, you really did think it was beautiful.

He stopped at your station, about to ask where Tony was when he noticed your staring. He shifted a bit, somewhat uncomfortable with your staring at his arm. He thought that you were scared by his arm, just like most people were. He really didn’t want to make anyone feel that way though, and his metal arm soon became one of his biggest insecurities.

Your gaze never left his arm as you reached out, mesmerized by the gleaming arm. You held your breath the moment your fingertips touched the metal, and you pressed your entire palm to it softly. Your movements shocked Bucky to the point he couldn’t stop his reaction.

His metal arm turned around and slammed into your arm, slapping it away, and right after that, his arm pushed into your body. Your body flew back into a shelf full tools and sharp objects. You automatically cried out at the pain that flowed through your body from your back and arm. The gasp flew out of his mouth, terrified by his own actions and he felt himself froze in place. “I- fuck! I’m sorry!” He stuttered out, feeling the shock and anxiety run through his body at the site of your figure on the ground.

You groaned out, moving around and trying to stand up. “I’m sorry- shouldn’t have done that.” You grunt out, rubbing your arm as if to make the pain leave. Your back ached and you felt lucky that you hadn’t been cut in anyway. Bucky’s trembling figure seemed to break out of his spell, and he rushed towards you.

“Why’d you touch my arm?” Bucky asked softly, while carefully helping you up. He gazed down at your arm, seeing the swelling and bruising already appear and he frowned at himself. He cursed the metal arm again, and his reflexes, feeling massive guilt hit him. “It’s beautiful.” You mumbled back, ignoring the pain and now feeling upset at your own actions.

“It can’t be beautiful. It’s a weapon.” Bucky whispered back, confused at your perspective at his arm. You tried smiling at him, “It is beautiful. It will only be a weapon if you let it be.”

Bucky left the lab a while after talking to you, feeling openhearted to your opinion. He felt as if a weight had been lifted, and he looked down to his metal arm with a small grin, replaying the words you told him.

He knew the two of you would be close in the future.

[hayleysayshay]

D, L, M, N for the fandom asks

Thanks Anon!

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t (again: be nice)

Realising I’ve reblogged this ask game before and answered this one, but Borra-- Bolin and Korra just seem like good friends. Basami as well-- Bolin and Asami just seem like brother and sister, so that’s something i like even less than Bolin and Korra. I like Bolin’s relationships with these characters but romantically I just can’t get my head around them.

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves (chars you’re neutral on are fair game, as are chars you dislike)

Kuvira is super hot, I will give you that. Like I mostly just prefer her when she is just a badass dictator instead of... I’ll stop, this is meant to be nice.

M - Say something genuinely nice about a ship that you don’t ship (or its shippers, or anything related to you)

So, I don’t like ship Makorra in canon verse stories, but repressed dork who pretends to be cool Mako x very extroverted chaotic Korra is very appealing in modern AUs.

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice)

1) I’d love more platonic Mako and Korra, Mako and Asami stuff! 

2) Everyone know I’m always soft for good angst about Mako and Bolin’s backstories.

3).... Makorrasami? Basically, the best way to end love triangles are threesomes, lets be honest.

FANDOM MEME ASKS

[eternalstrigoii]

Vengeful

Borra (Maleficent: Mistress of Evil) x Female-presenting Jungle-type Dark Fae Reader

He never did tell Maleficent why he hated humans so intensely.

You had been little more than children when you courted. You left the nest together frequently to dive in free-fall like the eagles, your hands clasped and feet fighting to stay aligned, guided only by the wind under your wings. You were young and careless; you always managed to right yourselves before you hit the sea, and it was never difficult to regain altitude afterward. You had wings just like your mother’s, bright and colorful, and you thought you made a stunning pair with his plumage so long and yours so bright.

Neither of you could’ve known what a mistake you made, landing atop the grassy plains at the apex of the cliff face. The wind ruffled your feathers and your hair, and it was a good excuse to pretend you had been blown into him so you could seek shelter in his arms. You looked for any excuse to kiss your mate, not that there weren’t thousands upon thousands of nooks and crevices in the great nest for you to steal away in. You felt you’d explored them all well enough, and this was as safe as any other.

Or, rather, that was what you thought until the weighted net flew over your heads.

You both broke for the cliffside, but couldn’t get away. He flared his wings, but the sear of iron on his flesh made them fold.  You fell to your knees, scraping them on the rocky shore, and threw your hands up in vain, trying not to tangle your horns.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered as the rapid footfalls of the poachers approached.

“With my life.” You looked at him as best you could, the iron searing your fingers, your head, your arms.

He lurched toward the edge in hopes of throwing you both, and the net that contained you, into the sea. You had the sense to follow.

The net was swept up from under you, though, closed by rope, and you were both dragged over the grass and the soil, shedding feathers as your wings scraped along beneath you. You both cried out in pain, flapping and struggling. It bit into your legs, your back, your sides; whatever skin you could touch to his got reprieve from the pain.

“Take the pretty one,” you heard one of them say, and Borra’s arm flew out to pull you close against him.

“Wait,” you cried, hoping, for a moment, to be reasonable. “What do you want of us!?”

“Decoration,” another replied to the laughter of his companions.

“You won’t touch her,” Borra’s voice was dangerous, but they knew as well as you did that the only way he could fight back was if he was released.

One of them made the mistake of grabbing for you by himself. Your mate kicked him in the face hard enough to make him recoil, holding his bleeding mouth.

They grabbed you by the wings the second time, folding the net over them until you screamed. You screamed while Borra held tight to you, trying in vain not to struggle lest it make you more easy to separate from him.

“Don’t waste the time. Kill them both,” someone said.

“Wait!” you cried, “I’ll go – I’ll go!”

It never crossed your mind to see what sort of weapon they had, to see if you could disarm them, but your mate misguidedly thought you had a plan. He had to be forcibly separated from you, the iron hissing and sizzling as it bit into his flesh, but you allowed yourself to be removed.

If it would save him, then perhaps the loss of your feathers would be worthwhile.

That was not what they intended. Not by a long shot.

You were bruised, battered, scorched and tired. You bled in ways that you never thought you were capable of. It was only you struggling to stand before the group of poachers on weakened legs, not understanding why they looked at you the way they did – the gold pieces they imagined they would be paid for gouging out your horns. Cutting off your hair. Most importantly, mounting your wings like the head of a royal boar…

You screamed when they seized you. Your wings beat the air furiously, far too strong for the men to hold still on their own.

“Let her go!” The iron net twisted around one of his horns, pressing, white hot, into his skin.

“Borra!” A note of hysterics crept into your voice. You kicked and fought, trying desperately to pry your body out of their grasps.

One of them grabbed the cartilage of the rounded part of your wing and cut into the base. He was sawing it off at the juncture of where your feathers met your skin, and you screamed at the top of your lungs like a wild animal.

“Cassia!” Borra yelled your name, struggling to lift the net on his battered wings. “Let her go – let her go! Don’t touch her! Please! Please!”

You felt your blood down your back. They didn’t care that you screamed yourself hoarse, or that you intermittently tried to kick and fight your way loose. By the time they’d removed the first wing, you were limp from agony and hoarsely begging.

Borra was still screaming your name as he beat the dirt with blistered fists.

For a moment, you thought you were hallucinating when you saw a grand whiteness – but, no, it was Udo. And Conall. And your mother.

“Help him,” you whispered, and you felt something snap against your back.

The second wing came off less cleanly than the first.

Your mother attacked.

The men dropped you on the ground as though you were already dead, grabbing your wings and bolting for the plains.

Udo and Conall wrestled the net off of Borra. He crawled out to you, gripping the grass until he was free enough to flap his wings and cast off the bits of iron that were left clinging to him.

“Cassia?” You heard Conall say your name, though your mate was the first to reach you, his hands gentle on your face. He patted your cheeks, scooped you carefully into his arms and squeezed you close.

“You have to wake up. Please, Cassia, wake up for me…”

You moaned. The pain in your back was unlike anything you’d ever felt.

“Let me take her,” Udo said softly, bending to take you from his arms. “Conall will support you as you fly.”

“Momma,” you whispered.

“Your mother won’t be alone,” Udo murmured to you. You hadn’t seen anyone else arrive with them, but you believed him.

Borra struggled to his feet. He stumbled when he reached for you, and you felt yourself slipping back into unconsciousness.

“Hold on to me, child,” Conall said to him, and you stayed awake long enough to make sure that he did.

You felt the soft down under you when you stirred, but something was wrong. Your chest felt weighted, and your head light. You struggled to breathe.

You heard him before you saw him, stumbling to you through the halls of the great nest. His voice was low and rough – where is she? And Udo, quietly, replying to him so low that your ears couldn’t reach.

“Borra…” your voice was so weak he could hardly stand to hear it, a thought that he immediately regretted. He would rather hear this, this weakest approximation of you, than ever go without. You were his mate, his friend, you had been destined for one another since you were fledglings.

“I’m here,” he knelt in the nest with you, watched the blood from your back quickly saturate the straw under your body. He took one of your hands between both of his, desperate not to feel the coldness taking hold of your skin. “I’m here, Cassia. I’m here, Conall…he’s going to fix this…”

You tried to shake your head. “I don’t think he can...”

He shook his in protest. His eyes brimmed with tears that, at first, he refused to let fall.

“I love you,” you whispered. You were struggling for breath and didn’t need him to hear, not that he would leave if you asked. “With all that I am, Borra…I love you. I love you now, and I always will…”

“Do something.” He tried to harden his tone toward Conall, but the waver in his voice was unmistakable.

You reached up, your fingers shaking, and caressed the indentations in his skin where the iron net burned. Your lips quivered, but you didn’t have the strength to sob.

He did.

His wings went wide, shielding you both as he wished he could’ve when you needed it. He gathered you as tenderly as he could, cradling you to his chest. Your blood-soaked hair left streaks of scarlet down his arm. His muscles quivered – his body heaved with the force of his sobs.

You were able to shed a single tear against his skin before he lost you. You succumbed to your injuries, Conall would tell the others. You had been murdered.

Your mate screamed. Holding you, with your blood coating his fingers, with your cool cheek pressed into his arm, your mate grieved for you. He mourned you. He mourned the loss of your touch, the loss of your smile, the loss of your future, the loss of seeing you with your family when he stood with his as Conall told everyone news of the world beyond. He had loved you with all that he was, and you had been taken from him. Slowly. Piece by piece. You suffered, and you bled, and for that, his pain echoed through the high ceilings of the great nest’s many chambers. Children pressed into the chests of their mothers; many enclosed their mates in the safety of their wing.

At some point, it was no longer your name he screamed.

But your blood was the first war paint he donned.

Your name, the first he shed blood in.

He didn’t intend to kill them when he left. No, he meant to teach them all a lesson about what happened when they didn’t finish what they began, but once he started, he hadn’t been able to stop. He tore apart the men who killed you as they had taken your life – piece by piece, limbs to be attached to boards and sold to the highest bidder.

Their blood mixed with yours on his skin. It was inadequate restitution.

Your family buried you. They mourned you. At first, Conall hoped that once he’d finished mourning, your mate would see reason.

He was wrong.

Borra covered the scars from his iron burns. He kept the only feather of yours he’d been able to find wrapped in the covering against the joint of his wrist. And he never stopped mourning you.

[whumpylurker]

Meet Larbi Al Hamza (Daniel Lundh) & Pedro Ballester (Marcel Borras) in another very interesting spanish drama! “Tiempos de Guerra” or ‘Morocco: Love in Times of War’. This drama is situated in Melilla, year 1921. There’s a lot going on on the series, but on this specific gif set, you see Julia (Pedro’s sister) and Larbi trying to help an injured Pedro escape from Melilla after being wrongly acussed of treason. As officers arrives to stop him from escaping, Pedro hits Larbi to make it look like he didn’t help them.

Obviously, it didn’t end well anyways, as he was shot, and under arrest with Larbi and Julia. This show (just as many other spanish dramas such as Gran Hotel or Altamar) is on netflix so you can go and watch it! There’s quite a lot of angst, whump, blood and a really interesting plot. (Daniel Lundh is an excellent actor, I’ve seen him on other shows and he’s just so nice and i don’t see a lot about him around here)