#but i need to stop forcing myself to write 2K+ on every fic

[galaxostars]

Transfest celebration

Hi everyone ! Pride month may be over but Transfest is still very much on going and so many beautiful fics/art keep coming out every day, so feel free to check them out and give them some much deserved love <3

I will be reblogging this post every time a new work comes out so stay tuned for that + the authors' reveal next week!

The Magic of You : 13.9k, E, Petunia/Severus, James/Lily, Eileen/Tobias

One cigarette can change everything. Or when two people realise they are far more alike than they are different.

can i tell you something? : 2.7k, G, Regulus/Remus

Regulus needs to tell Remus something.

What Are Friends For? : 2k, M, Draco/Harry, Hermione/Ron

Draco offers to help Harry out with a certain problem he’s having, courtesy of starting T.

Sun's out, Guns out : art, T, Charlie Weasley

Charlie Weasley has much to be proud about. All his scars are fucking cool, the dragon claws, the eyebrow slit, the stretch marks on his hips, and ... oh yeah : his top surgery scars ! Charlie Weasley is a hot transmasc dude, what do you want more from me i'm thirsting

Full Indulgence : 14.7k, E, Fleur/Nymphadora, Nymphadora/Bill, Fleur/Nymphadora/Bill

Tonks and Bill used to fuck. Bill met Fleur, and friends-with-benefits became friends again. Now, Bill’s engaged to Fleur. Tonks thinks Fleur is hot. Really hot. Tonks cannot stop thinking about her. Bill finds out. Bill has a solution. Tonks is caught in the middle, in the best way possible.

brother, I've returned : 2.7k, G, Regulus & Sirius

Sirius and Regulus reunite after their parents' deaths. written for the HP TransFest, prompt #82: Brother, Madds Buckley or FTM Sirius left home many years ago. After his parents death he must return for the reading of the will and face the brother he left behind

I don't wanna be anything other than me : 4.3k, T, Sirius/Remus

Remus has been thinking about confiding in the boys that he is trans and a werewolf, because he is tired of hiding who he is. Lily is his best friend, but living in the girl's dormitory is taking it's toll. A story of friendship, opening up to others, and accceptance. Prompt 33: Remus ftm taking to McGonagall and the boys about switching dorms

your friends are a fate that befell me : 12.8k, E, Regulus/Sirius, Regulus/James

Self prompted : Established Sirius/Regulus, Sirius wants Regulus to make James feel better after his breakup

Fawning Over You by toxik_angel - a Podfic podfic length 4.5-5 hours, E, Draco/Harry

Harry's not sure which would be worse: Ron and Hermione finding out he buys Draco Malfoy's premium pornography and an extra gift off his wishlist every week, or Draco Malfoy finding out Harry has a horrible, distracting, embarrassing crush on him. Alt title: Whore-ton Hears a Harry.

force our smiles, baby, half dead (from comparing myself to everyone else around me) : 3.8k, M, Remus/James

Five times James was asked how he was feeling + one time Remus was asked the same.

The bleedin' hearts, the arts and that other stuff : 55.9k, E, Remus/James, Dorcas/Lily, Regulus/Sirius, Barty/Pandora/Evan

Sometimes "coming out" means going stealth with your hookup. Sometimes "going stealth" means that your hookup gets the wrong idea that you (a book-loving pacifist who writes self-proclaimed sad boi music in your spare time) are a repeat offender in the back alley knife fight department. Oops? It's all fun and games in love and war for Remus and James until somebody gets hurt. This is a FINISHED FIC With an eleventh chapter - epilogue coming post-creator reveals <33

Between These Walls : 40k, E, Harry/Severus, Luna/Rolf Scamander

Casting an eye to his former student, Severus saw Potter’s head loll onto the thin pillow. The young man faced the ceiling, expression inert and dull. Why was he in a hospital bed next to Potter three years after the war? In which Harry quits the Auror force to recover from a bout of depression, Severus starts an owl-order business from his country house, and they both learn what it means to be in a relationship for the first time.

Wine Drunk : 2.8k, T, Sirius/Remus

Prompt: Sirius is falling in love with new member of order (remus homeschooled) and notices several things and tries to put together pieces

It's not over yet : 6.9k, T, Lily & Severus, Poppy & Severus

Taking self-made potions and performing a ritual at Ostara in his fourth year - Severus Snape had thought of many aspects while planning his transition. Was there something he purposefully ignored until the last second? Certainly. Severus struggles to navigate both his parents' reaction and the reality he has to face: people will ask questions regarding his new form. Severus is sure he is no "young woman" but rather a lad, yet telling other people is intimidating. At least he got his friends and a surprise ally.

moving into me : 5.2k, T, Hermione/Ron

Veronica "Ronny" Weasley always knew something was "off" but Ronny didn't understand what it was until the Yule Ball shenanigans during fourth year. Submitted for 2024 Trans Fest Prompt 6: "Trans male Ron who doesn’t realize/come out until a few years into Hogwarts."

Make sure to leave some kudos and comments to the authors 🏳️‍⚧️🫶🏻

[monstersinthecosmos]

🔮

🔮 Any advice for writers working through burnout or writer’s block?

!!!! Yes, absolutely.

I have three main approaches to this for myself, and I know everyone's brains and writing habits are different so yknow like take it or leave it or modify it to your own needs but here's three things I always fall back on when I'm stuck.

Be kind to yourself.

Be honest with yourself. Is there a reason the writing needs to be done NOW? You are not a machine. If it's not there, it's not there. Obviously this doesn't apply if you have deadlines to meet but if you're writing for fun, don't get so twisted up about it that it's not fun anymore. WHAT ARE WE DOIN HERE FELLAS?! It's okay to take a break and recover until it feels right again, you don't have to fill a quota.

Set extremely small goals.

I try to write 100 words a day because I have ADHD and I get crazy burnout and/or I go into creative frenzies where I binge write for 3 days and don't do the dishes. There's a balance in here somewhere lol. An easy goal and a routine can help a lot. 100 words is a joke. But there are days where it's a HUGE struggle. But it's still doable, and I walk away feeling like I chiseled away at the idea a little bit.

I can't stress enough that you can't push yourself THROUGH burnout, and this can go to any type of burnout. (I feel this way about house keeping too LOL). You're drawing from an empty well. Be honest with yourself, be kind to yourself, set a realistic goal. If you're burnt out you're not gonna sit down and crank out 2k in an evening, you just aren't, and if you try to force it you're just gonna feel worse when you can't do it. Be gentle. Make easy goals. Ease yourself back into it.

And don't forget, sometimes chiseling away is just exactly what you need to do. I sometimes go weeks where I put in 100 words at a time on a fic and then finally I make it through the hard part and 6k floods out of me all at once. Chiseling away is good. You will find your way back when you get through the hard part.

(Also, even if you're chiseling away with garbgae & nonsense, that's okay! You can edit it later! A sloppy first draft is better than no draft!)

Refill the well.

Speaking of drawing from an empty well; creativity requires an input and an output, imo. That's my personal opinion!! Sometimes you need to take a break and work on the input stream, too. Take a week where you watch a movie every night instead of trying to write. Reread a book from an author you admire. Stare at some paintings. Listen to your headphones in the dark, whatever the fuck it is !

You're running on empty! And it's not just the basic human energy to function! It's the creativity! It's the inspiration! If you're writing a fic, revisit the source! Remind yourself why you like it! If a movie or song or picture gave you the idea for your fic, go back to that! Absorb it, replenish yourself!!!!!

I know sometimes when I talk writing stuff that I speak about it more like, idk philosophically? And I know others might have technical advice, like write scenes out of order, change the font, sit in a different area of the house, find a friend to cheerlead! All of those things can work, too, and I try them sometimes. ((I have more to say about this and about how outlines are my lord & savior when writing with ADHD and trying to chisel away a scene at a time)) But like, all of that I think is a bit secondary to just being kind to yourself and taking care of your mental health first and getting yourself back into a place where you CAN be creative and find that drive again.

My life would be a fucking shambles if I couldn't make lil routines for myself with the ADHD and Brain Problems and whatnot and I leave myself an hour every day to write, right before bedtime! 9-10pm every night I'm CLOCKIN IN! And for me it's like a lil reward at the end of the day, so that I can like unwind, end the day, stop worrying about whatever else I didn't get done, etc. Making space for it as a fun activity and a reward is essential for me, and I still get stuck sometimes, but going back to these ideas helps me a lot!!!!!!!!!!!

[astrobei]

1, 19 and 44 :)

hii!! these look so fun omg thank u !!

1. do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road?

oooh ok this is so interesting bc honestly. it depends!! there are some stories that i built entirely around the ending and a couple scenes in between (like the one i’m working on rn) and there are others where i literally don’t know how it’s going to end until i write a scene and i’m like yeah. ok. im done. usually i have a lot more trouble with ending than beginnings or middles so generally i have no clue and i just wait until it comes to a somewhat logical stopping point and/or i just get tired and decide that’s as good as it’s going to get dwndkdkd

19. what are some books or authors that influenced your style the most?

oooh ok so. i haven’t read enough in the past few years to actually have my style influenced by any authors i don’t think? i just started getting back into it over the summer but some authors whose styles i just really admire are khaled hosseini aka one of my most favorite authors ever and also ocean vuong because i just started “on earth we’re briefly gorgeous” and i am BLOWN !! AWAY !! i admire their prose so much and how it’s nothing complex or like. pretentious in any way and how the simplicity of it makes it even more beautiful to read!! forever thinking about that hosseini quote that’s like “like a compass needle points north, a man’s accusing finger will find a woman” like literally every day of my life no joke. if one day i could write half as beautifully as them id be the happiest mf on the planet fr

44. any writing advice you want to share?

UMM i genuinely do not consider myself qualified to give advice because i have zero idea wtf i’m doing ever but !! one thing that really helps me when i’m stuck on a scene/don’t know how to proceed is just like. skipping ahead and writing something you’re more familiar or comfortable with first !! like recently i was working on my fic and i’d been stuck on this one scene for like a Month and at one point i was like. ok i give up. and just skipped forward to a scene that i knew i’d been looking forward to writing more and had more elements i felt more comfortable with and just like that i was immediately more inspired and back on track !! also don’t be afraid to delete stuff and start over ! i literally deleted 2k words yesterday that i spent like 5 days writing because the whole thing was so awkward and forced i just needed to hit reset and look at it again 🥳 if that makes any sense. idk if any of this is useful or relevant but this is just some stuff that i learned recently that rly helped me :^)))

[milo-hypno]

Milo, your Fanfic Q&A reblog - would you do 3 and 14 for Married AU? there's definitely some black magic happening ^^

Absolutely, I'll do my best!

3. If this work is an update/new chapter, how do you stay motivated on multi-chapter works?

I mean, a lot of things are at hand! The satisfaction of bringing an idea I had to life is certainly nothing to sneeze at - and since I like to print my works, knowing that when it's done I'll be able to hold a finished product in my hands is a nice motivator.

I also can't lie and say that the feedback I get from readers doesn't help - I do my best not to write for it, but all the same, knowing that people enjoy what I do is a nice drive.

But I think the thing that keeps me most motivated, actually, is sprinting (will touch on later) and sharing the nights work with a close friend. We both write in-fandom, and every night we sprint (well, she's certainly more dedicated to it - I do my best to be daily, but I miss sometimes) and then afterwards, we will send each other what we wrote, and then give feedback.

It gets me more excited to write every day, and gives me a gentle external pressure to work something out when I'm stuck. I can talk about my works, get advice, and give in turn - which is great for me! It also has a quicker deadline, so I can't just procrastinate and go "Ah, I have another 3 days to get it done, I don't need to write tonight."

14. Explain your writing process for this work.

I can't say I have a massive like, 12-step program, but the routine I've found works best in the past year is:

1 - initial plan, which usually involves writing a scene out that has Just Come To Me, or messaging a friend to talk about it with. For Married Au, it actually started with talking to a friend about a wholly separate AU, where we were trying to think of a reason why two characters might get married without being in love. (I had... a certain fixation to the trope at the time.) I was also juuust recovering from covid at the time.

That quickly turned into "Hey, what if Grian and Mumbo got married for like, an internal compass"

After that, I first talked about the idea more with said friend, and THEN I wrote a solid thousand words of outline.

When I outline things, I'm careful to make it more like guidelines/reminders, instead of say, "Grian breaks down in front of Mumbo in the middle of the night, Mumbo says "Hey don't worry I've got you."

My first 3 chapter outlines look like this:

Which is really nothing more than planning pacing, and enough of a reminder to jog my memory - anything too detailed, and I find that writing the scene can be exhausting - though, I do have notes with more details the further in and more plot-ridden a chapter is.

Other than that... all I do is:

Sprint (semi-)nightly - a writing sprint being a set amount of time where you write as much as you can. Discord has a bot available that allows you to do so with friends, which is very fun and a good motivator!

The habit is easy to break, but rewarding. When I was working on my DSMP fics, I used to average 100-200 words a night. Now, I average 500~, and sometimes I'll get a massive amount of inspiration for the scene, and will get up to 2k usually. (The most I've ever written in one night is 5k words - and man, my wrists ACHED at the end!)

Write consecutively - I used to write scenes like I was throwing darts at a dartboard, going to whichever plot point I wanted to at the time. It worked for me back then, but now, I've trained myself to the point where I barely write scenes before their time in the story. (Co-writing a fic with Ski helped a lot in that regard, because you're forced to keep it linear.)

I don't stop myself from doing a scene, however, if I'm in the mood - often times, I end up grateful I did so, since the scene could be a lot different with even a few hours between when I wrote it, and when I could have.

And finally, like I said above - exchanging the day's writing with a good friend, and sharing the excitement for it, is a massive motivator and key step for me.

I think the one thing that I trip on, however, is if I get to a scene where I didn't have enough planning - mentally, or in an outline. Usually, I don't improv story beats, just how it plays out exactly - but I have a vague shape in my mind for everything. So I guess my best advice is... if you have a spot in your story where it's just a "fill in the blank", maybe do so sooner than later.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//bruised and battered. sakusa kiyoomi//

Request: Soulmate AU where your soulmates scars appears on you and Omi somehow landed with the clumsiest girl in the world as his soulmate👉🏻👈🏻🥺

Warnings: mild swearing

Word Count: 1.3K

Notes:  okayokayokay i changed it up a bit?? So, think more like shared pain until you meet?? Also i’ll add the header later because it’s uhhhhh 6 am? And I should uhhhh sleep?

@nekxrizawa bby, because I won’t post the inbox message until I wake up in god knows how many hours and you said you wanted tagged ;-;

Sakusa must’ve looked like an old man, hobbling around school.  His entire body hurt as if he had tripped down the stairs.  He had been sitting in class, trying to mind his own damn business when the slow ache set in.  His jaw had clenched tight, trying his best to distract himself from the discomfort of the purple bruises that were surely forming all over his body. 

But, he was used to it by now.  His entire life he had been dealing with the constant random pains and bruises.  His body was littered with scars from all sorts of accidents, the most prominent being the one on his knee.  Everyone got hurt, he knew that.  Hell, even he got his own bruises after rigorous hours of practice, but this?  This was just ridiculous.  How the hell did he get stuck with the clumsiest person as a soulmate?  

It was like every other day something was wrong.  One time he was just trying to run laps with the rest of the team and his ankle randomly gave out, the throbbing pain from a new sprain of his soul mate’s ankle having him sitting down to take a quick breather.  There would be times when Sakusa would just be laying in his bed, trying to get some sleep when there was a jolt of pain passing through his nose, making him reach up to try to soothe the aching.  Did you fall or did you drop your phone on your face?  He didn’t know and it didn’t matter.  All he knew was that his nose hurt and now he was annoyed and couldn’t wait to finally figure out who you were so he could scold you for being so reckless with your body.  

But, even if it annoyed the shit out of him, there was part of him that found your complete and utter clumsiness to be almost . . . endearing.  It was so easy to picture himself tutting his tongue at you, calling you a dumbass, a cute pout on your face after stubbing your toe.  He didn’t even know who you were or what you looked like, but just like everyone else, there was a certain excitement within his chest about one day finding his soulmate and finally learning all of the stories behind the scars that you shared.

Sakusa didn’t know the full extent of that dull throbbing pain that had been building inside of his body since class until the end of the day.  He had been stripping his uniform to change into his set of practice clothes, the steady eyes of his teammates stopping him in his actions.  “What happened to your legs?”  Komori asks, tugging his own shirt over his torso.

It was then that Sakusa finally took a good look at himself.  There were deep bruises on his shins as if you had slammed them into something.  He caught himself shaking his head.  So, he was partially right, but instead of falling down the stairs, you fell up the stairs and had likely hit your shins on one of the steps.  But, as if those heavy purple marks weren’t enough, a third bruise was just barely visible under the leg of his shorts.  You were a walking disaster, that was for sure.  

“Soulmate,” was the only response that Sakusa could manage, bending down slowly to tie his sneakers, trying his best to ignore all of the aches and pains that you had caused him.

“Man, you really got it bad, huh?” Komori laughed, punching his cousin on the shoulder lightly.   “I couldn’t imagine getting hurt as much as you do.  Seems like every week you have a new bruise.”

The ace just shrugged, gingerly getting back up to his feet.  It was just his life.  It wasn’t anything new.  The bruises and the scratches and the scars were just a part of him, they were a part of you, a physical representation of a bond that couldn’t be broken.  There would be more scars and more pain as his life continued, but it was worth it to be with his other half.  If he had to endure a couple bruises and some random small injuries to find you, he would do it over and over again.  Bruises eventually go away and even scars can begin to fade, it’s all only temporary, but the love and adoration that he hopes to one day hold for you would be eternal, making everything worth it.  

Maybe it was cheesy.  Maybe this whole soulmate thing didn’t seem like his vibe, but what could he say?  There would be long nights of just staring at the ceiling as his mind raced and his heart pounded and he was flooded with thoughts of his soulmate.  What would they look like?  How would their laugh sound?  Could they sing?  Do they know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie-Pop?  Did they eat pineapple on their pizza?  Those important questions always plagued his mind, leaving him tossing and turning for hours on end.  

He had dreamt of meeting you a million times.  Sakusa thought that it might be something as small as recognizing a scar or watching you bump your head and then feeling pain in the same area, you know, like something out of a movie.  Except that wasn’t it.  Honestly, he would’ve missed the opportunity if it hadn’t been for Komori.  The libero had nudged him as they walked to class one morning.  “Hey, they have a bruise on their leg just like you do!  That’s kind of a neat coincidence, don’t you think?”  Komori’s easy smile and warm laugh was lost to Sakusa.  It was like his whole world was moving in slow motion, eyes trained only on the girl walking the halls with a group of friends, blackish-blue bruises painted across her shins, a larger one on her thigh just barely visible beneath the school uniform.   There was no doubting it.  After 17 years, there you were, right there in his own school this entire time.

One of your friends noticed the wide look on his face, tapping your shoulder, and gesturing towards him.  That little smile that spread across his face as you turned to look at him for the first time was unlike anything anyone had ever seen, but he couldn’t help himself.  You were better than anything he had ever imagined.  That absolutely bewildered expression as you stared up at him, your mouth settling in a small, “Oh,” as you got a good look at him.  There was a small scar above his right eyebrow, matching the one that you had gotten after running into a table as a toddler.  A scar in the shape of an ‘L’ on left hand from the time that you cut yourself trying to open a can of peaches.  The more you looked, the more markings you found that matched the ones that covered your own body.  

“So, what’d you do?  Trip up the stairs?”  Sakusa teased, nodding his head towards the bruises on your legs.

“Hey!  You don’t know that!”

He felt the edges of his mouth twitch up into a teasing smirk.  “So, you did trip up the stairs.”  And Sakusa just tutted his tongue at you as he shook his head, a small pout taking over your already cute features, just like he had always imagined.  “Dumbass.”

[buckyownsmylife]

Oh, well, imagine - Andy Barber smut

The one where Andy gets tired of living a double life 

Word count: 2K<

Warnings: smut, sugar relationship, infidelity (reader is the other woman), daddy kink, breeding kink, dubcon because Andy does stuff without getting reader’s consent beforehand, unprotected sex.

A/N: this was written for @donutloverxo​‘s #sugary4kchallenge! I took the opportunity to write something in the same universe as my first Andy fic, I write sins not tragedies, but this could be read by itself. Congrats on 4k, sweetheart!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The sound of the door being slammed startled me, almost making me drop the dishes I’d been washing. My eyebrows furrowed, confused and worried about what was going on. Only Andy had the key to the apartment, so I wasn’t curious as to who it was, just what had him behaving that way. In all the time we’d known each other, I’d never once seen him angry.

Still, when he appeared by the kitchen, it was clear that was the case. His chest heaved with the simple task of breathing, and when his eyes fell on me, they seemed darker. I almost felt scared - I probably would, if I didn’t trust him so much.

“Andy?” I asked, but he immediately shook his head.

“Not what you call me, princess.” Automatically, I stood up straighter, body electrified by the meaning behind his words. I knew what he wanted, even if it was clearly that more than desire. He needed this.

“Daddy.” He nodded once, clearly pleased at my acknowledgment. But there was still so much I needed to understand. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Instead of answering, he just kept staring at me long and hard, making me feel small and naked under his attention.

“Come here.”

My legs obeyed instantly, having been trained long enough to do exactly what he said without having to think about it. “Good girl.” The compliment was like some pavlovian buzzer to my poor cunt. I could feel the fabric of my underwear begin to uncomfortably stick to my lower lips, and I shifted from one leg to the other as I waited for further instructions.

“Daddy needs you tonight,” he finally began explaining, a single finger running under my jaw to make sure I’d keep our eyes connected. “Will you let me do whatever I want to you and this body?”

The perspective excited me, and I didn’t know if I was stupid for it, but I found myself nodding anyway. At the end of the day, I trusted Andy with my life. I knew he wouldn’t push me further than I could take it, and if he ever came close to it, I always had my safeword.

“Yes, Daddy.” He rewarded me with a kiss, but it wasn’t a soft one. His tongue invaded my mouth and before I could even realize what I was doing, I had to find a hold on his shirt, standing on my tippy toes just so I wouldn’t completely tip over.

“Are you excited to help daddy?” He asked, fingers already making quick work of my clothes as I trembled with excitement in his hold. He looked feverish, like he couldn’t hold back anymore, his mouth nipping and sucking and biting every inch of skin he could find.

“Yes, Daddy,” I repeated, forever his subservient servant, knowing that aiding him would bring me to pleasures I’d never known before we’d met. I watched as he licked his lips, taking in my naked body before his, the kitchen a mess of my discarded clothes and abandoned dinner, but instead of taking off his clothes, his hands went directly to his belt.

“Lay back on the floor.” It took me a full second to understand what he was saying, but thankfully he didn’t read it as hesitation. Instead, despite his eager state, he watched as I slowly lowered myself to the cold marble, stopping once I was on my knees to make sure of what he really wanted.

“Lay back,” he repeated, nodding towards me, and despite my confusion, I did as he said, gasping once my naked back met the icy stone. My nipples hardened against the air of the silent apartment and under his gaze, and I gasped when he knelt before me, hands reaching out for my thighs as he pulled me even closer.

“So, so beautiful,” he moaned, and I watched stunned as he lowered himself until he was eye-level with my navel, and I felt more than saw as his tongue stuck out and collected the wetness that was already threatening to drip from me. “And mine, all mine.”

The first time he’d said that, there was a conversation to be held right after we both came back from our highs. I needed to make sure that he remembered what this was, and he laughed when I tried to phrase it as sweetly as possible.

“I know this isn’t conventional,” he’d said, “but as long as it lasts, you’re mine. In and out of this apartment, but especially in this bed.” It didn’t take too long to realize that he was right.

I truly was his. My body responded to him in a way it’d never reacted to anyone else before. And I knew that whenever this little affair of ours came to an end, he would still forever own parts of me I’d never even realized I had before we met.

Andy’s P.O.V.

My mind was becoming hazier by the second. I needed to make sure she understood what was going to happen before I completely lost it. But first, I knew I’d hate myself if I didn’t take advantage of the delicious meal laid bare before me.

“Daddy!” She screamed, fingers curling around my strands as I lapped her up, rubbing my bearded jaw on the apex of her thighs. She was everything. I had never wanted anyone the way that I wanted her. And I knew that I never would again.

It was why I couldn’t lose her.

Connecting our eyes, I pushed two fingers inside of her and immediately curled them as I searched for that sweet spot I’d memorized so many months before, knowing I’d struck gold when she cried out for me again.

“Yeah, baby… I know you like that, sweet girl. So sweet for me, aren’t you?” I knew she wouldn’t be able to answer, and I didn’t mind. I could barely speak myself. The need to have her was just too strong, and so I kept licking her pussy and fucking it with my fingers until I felt her clench around my digits, not even waiting for her to calm down as I immediately raised to my knees and worked on releasing my member from its confines.

“Better get ready, princess… I won’t be able to stop until I’m done with you.” The lust in her hazy eyes was unmistakable, but just as I was about to plunge into her, warm hands found their way inside my shirt, holding my chest to stop me. 

“Andy… the condom…” but I wasn’t having it.

“No,” I announced it, the finality in my voice clear as day as I pushed her arms down against the floor and penetrated her slowly, making sure to watch her jaw going slack as it always did at my first thrust.

When I saw that the initial shock had started to subdue and she was about to argue, I took her lips with mine, devouring her mouth the way I’d done with her pussy just seconds before. “I’m fucking you just like this, and you’re gonna take it.”

She wiggled underneath me, but it seemed more like she was going through the motions of showing that she didn’t want that than actually trying to make me stop.

It didn’t stop me. She would never be able to stop me. Not when I was in this mindset, not when I needed her so much. “I’m tired of wanting you,” I admitted. “I’m tired of wanting you, having you and then going back to wanting you again. I will never have my fill of you, I know that now. I need you.”

Her pussy clenched around me sporadically, her moans escaping her lips as she failed to speak when my hips grew quicker, my thrusts more forceful. “I need you more than sexually. I’m desperate for you, baby.”

And finally, she stopped squirming, her eyes suddenly widening in realization as my voice betrayed all of the emotions I was feeling. “I want to come home to you, Y/N. Only you.”

My confession earned her surrender. I felt her muscles relax underneath me, a sign of her acceptance of my new quest for ownership of her body, and so I could finally release her hands to run mine all over her skin.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” I whispered once the tempo became softer, but no less passionate. “I haven’t fucked her since we met.” I could see the shock in her expression, and I knew what she would argue.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” I shook my head at her silliness, stroking her cheek after I kissed her one more time. I could see my future in her eyes, even if she didn’t allow herself to see hers in mine.

“I want to get you pregnant, Y/N.” And there it was. The truth and my heart, stripped of all pretense, exposed for her to see. And if I feared the rejection, the way her eyes softened before she pulled me to another kiss sealed our fate.

“I love you so fucking much.” And so we made passionate, desperate sex on the kitchen floor. I fucked her so hard, it didn’t take much to have her drooling for me. I drowned all of my worries and sorrows in her sweet pussy, making sure to worship every single inch of her body with my lips and tongue.

“I’m gonna keep you forever, princess,” I promised, heart aching just at the thought of ever losing her. “She won’t ever take you from me. Ever.” At the reminder of the reality of our situation, the fact that she was “the other one”, her body writhed underneath me, her struggle to fight back once again rising, but I wasn’t having any of it.

“Ever, baby,” I promised against her lips, silencing her cries with a deep, sloppy kiss that only ended when I needed to gather some air. “I can’t even think of having to live without you.” 

The rhythm of our hips finding one another kept up, the sounds growing exponentially wetter with each second, with each drop of her arousal that collected on her lower lips, lubricating my member and aiding my goal to fill her up until it lathered the floor beneath us.

“You won my heart,” I confessed, making sure that she’d see the honesty deep in my eyes. “You left me no choice but to fall for you. Now I won’t live without you.” A desperate cry tore from deep within her, rekindling the passion with which I fucked her. Normally I was so sweet to her, so patient. But I knew she liked this as well. She liked to be fucked like a whore, even if she was as far removed from one as possible.

“Call my name, sweet girl.” It was a plea, a desperate need to blur the lines between what our relationship was and what I wanted it to become until they disappeared altogether. “Say you are mine. Say it.”

She was drooling now, and I knew how hard it was for her to find the words I needed her to say as she succumbed to bliss right there, on the kitchen floor, with me. Still, her scream penetrated my hazy mind, adding to the overwhelming tightness that squeezed me, begging for my cum, “I’m yours! I’m yours, Andy.”

The aftermath found us breathless, with flushed chest and flushed cheeks. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything quite as beautiful as the nervous but hopeful look with which she gazed at me. I knew what she needed to hear, and with a kiss on her forehead, I reassured her, “Let’s go to bed, princess. You won’t be sleeping alone tonight.”

And as we cuddled the night away, the unspoken became clear and clear. Not tonight, nor ever again.

[vicious-vixxxen]

Drabble Interest Check #1

So just a quick recap, refer to my previous post for a more in depth explanation- I wanna start sharing some drabbles I write more off of a whim, when idea’s hit me really suddenly, and I just start writing them down, and they never turn into much afterwards.  But, I thought if I shared them with you guy’s, maybe they’d prompt some inspo to request more, to turn them into full fics, with a full story- as most of my drabbles spawn from me thinking of one specific scenario, and building off of it a bit until I get to a drabble length- or more, as this one is nearly 2K lol don’t ask me how, I was super into it as I was writing.  Or urge me to try and and add a real start and finish to them, so put out as full fic’s myself. I also think these drabbles will give you a guys a better idea of what I like to write, what I'm willing to write, and what I'm open to writing. As my drabbles usually hit more angst and nsfw/kink notes. ‘Problematic’ or otherwise. I’ll add some notes to the end of the fic to give an idea of what I had in mind with this drabble, and go more in depth on that. But here it is, I'm actually very proud of this one, and hope to figure out how to finish it at some point.  Established Enji Todoroki X Male!Reader Additionally: Natsuo Todoroki x Male!Reader angst, unrequited love (or is it? ;3))

Shuffling into the kitchen, you grimaced as the carpet turned to cold, hard tile below your feet- wrapping your arms around yourself as you did your best to stay quiet, rummaging around the Todoroki kitchen for some snacks. You’d woken up restless, your stomach growling, and after prying yourself from underneath Enji’s death grip, you’d worked up quite the appetite. The soft sizzle of pork on the stove could be heard soon enough. Not too loud, but that, alongside the soft beeping of the rice cooker, and the delicious scent of your cooking wafting across the lower levels of the house, are what woke Natsuo from a fitful sleep. Rubbing both of his eyes with his fists, Natsuo yawned. Brow lifted in question as he sniffed the air, and checked the clock. Who the hell was cooking at two in the morning?

 Legs swinging off the bed, he stuffed his feet in his house shoes, and set off towards the kitchen. Yawning as he went, lifting up his shirt briefly to rub at his stomach, as he came to a stop in the kitchen doorway. The scents pouring out of it pulling a soft moan from his lips, his stomach twisting with want.

Though not just for food anymore. Not when he saw you moving swiftly around the kitchen, like you’d cooked there your whole life. Trying to be silent, but humming under your breath quietly. Clad in nothing but a pair of sleep shorts...and one of Natsuo’s fathers much larger shirts. The younger Todoroki resisted the urge to roll his eyes, ignoring the steering jealousy that raged within him, in favor of whistling lowly, catching your eye, and offering you a shake of his head, and a soft smile as he moved around the island, towards you. You had enough sense to at least look apologetic, though Natsuo quickly shrugged it off, coming around to inspect your cooking briefly, before allowing himself to be dragged into a hug by you. Something he could vaguely recall being off put by, the first time his father had introduced you to them all. Your affection. Your ability to be so close in so little time. Trusting, caring, sweet, kind. Intimate touch of any kind was something Natsuo had rejected all his life- well, when he could start rejecting it- as his own advances for comfort and touch as a child had been snuffed out quickly. Point being, it had taken him a while for him to come around to you being so...hands on, with him. Seeing you be so hands on with his siblings. It settled something, deep within himself, he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge even existed, but it helped. It helped a lot. Though now, Natsuo rationed quietly in his own mind...now maybe he took things too far. His hands slung around your waist, your arms around Natsuo’s neck- hands in his soft, white hair, face in the boy's neck, where it would usually be pressed to Enji’s chest. You and Natsuo were almost the same height, though Natsuo had you beat on mass- taking after his father already, broad shouldered: muscular. Handsome. He was going to be a fine young man some day...he already was, really. An uncomfortable flip of your stomach followed as Natsuo nuzzled into your neck- and you were quick to pull back slowly after, patting the boys chest with a smile, looking up at him through your lashes briefly, before turning to the stove to flip the cuts of pork in the pan. “Are you hungry?” You whispered, almost conspiratorially, grinning as Natsuo blushed, laughing under his breath, before nodding. “Good. Grab two bowls, it’s almost finished.” You both ate in relative silence, only your contented sighs, and Natsuo’s soft affirmations of how good the food was. As always. You even had Fuyumi beat when it came to certain dishes. Though he’d never tell his sister that. When the food was gone, and all that were left were empty plates, you lead Natsuo back to the large family room, adjacent to the kitchen, both of you taking seats on either side of the love seat/ feet tangled together under a blanket you threw over you both, before dissolving into random, half asleep conversation. Stomachs full, bodies warm, and pliable. Your eyes closed as you recalled something from your childhood- natsuo suddenly wide awake, as his eyes drifted down over your neck, counting your freckles, and blushing as His fathers shirt rode down far enough to see some of your chest hair, and the definition between your pecs. God you were handsome, Natsuo thought, consumed with the need to lean over and press his face info your chest. Rip his fathers shirt off of you, and swaddle you in one of his collegiate sweatshirts instead. It would keep you warm so much better. Plus, Natsuo thought suddenly, heatedly: you’d just look good in something of his. The icy blue of Natsuo’s color palette reflected in your eyes. God... “Natsuo?” You called across to him, snapping the younger man out of his daydreaming- a deep crimson flushing down over his pale cheeks, as the younger Todoroki averted his gaze, and rubbed at his neck. “Sorry, I just...I got...I was somewhere else, for a moment. I apologize.” Natsuo finally stuttered out gruffly, staring off at the corner of the wall, trying to calm his thoughts. But they were swarming now, insistent, /fiery/, burning up his chest, and his mind. “It’s alright, I-“ “why-“ Natsuo caught himself, biting his tongue as he cut you off, feeling embarrassed. You paused, smiling and shaking your head as you motioned for the man to continue. 

“....why are you with my father?” Natsuo finally asked. Voice soft, hesitant. But firm enough that it was clear he was demanding an answer this time. Because he’d asked this very same question just weeks after first meeting you. When you’d fixed the young man with a knowing gaze, rested a hand on his chest, and simply said “because I like him”. Natsuo couldn’t fathom anyone so much as tolerating his father, let alone liking him. So it was a bit jarring, to say the least. “Do we really have to go over this again?” Ah, Natsuo thought. So you remembered that too. “My father could live a thousand lives atoning for what he’s done, and it would never be enough to deserve someone like you,” Natsuo said, voice heavier now, a little louder, breaking the quiet space you’d created there on the sofa together. Gaze directly on you now. Your eyes. Your gorgeous eyes that looked at his father with such admiration, that it made Natsuo ill sometimes to bear witness to it. “You are not the sole keeper of your fathers misgivings, Natsuo. He hasn’t just hurt you. Whether you choose to see and actively acknowledge the man he’s trying to become, is on you, and I won’t force your hand or try and tell you how you should feel. But don’t question my love for your father, because it’s just that: mine.” You matched the young man's tone, voice even, and soft, yet affirmative- leaving no room for argument. Though Natsuo seemed to want to test that. “So you love the old man then, huh? You really love him?” Natsuo urged, sitting up suddenly, much closer now as you stared. “Not that it is any of your business, but yes, Natsuo, yes. I’m in love with your father, and I see myself living a long and happy life with him. Getting married, settling down, having-“ “having what? Kids?!” Natsuo questioned, eyes wide as he stared at you. You paused, wondering if this was a conversation you should be having with Enji at your side. Natsuo was sweet, and soft spoken- when it was with anyone who wasn’t his father, that is, since that usually resulted in a shouting match between the two. Now though, he was feeling combative apparently- questioning your decisions, which you didn’t appreciate in the slightest. “Please tell me you’re not stupid enough to want to have /children/ with that man?” Natsuo urged, half desperate, half pleading, as he sat up on his knees, nearly towering over you now as you looked down on you. “Watch. Your. Tone.” You warned him, sitting up so you were on even level again, noses nearly brushing as you did so. “Your father may put up with your snippy, accusatory remarks because he thinks allowing you to walk over him will somehow bring you two closer together, but I sure as fuck won’t.” Your cursing nearly made Natsuo flinch out of pure guilt, but he stood his ground. “You’re fooling yourself if you think he’d be any different with your kids. Look at how we turned out! Is that what you want for your own children? A childhood of solicitude and abuse, to feel unwanted, and uncared for? To wonder every night when they go to bed why their father doesn’t love them?! Is that what you want!” Natsuo was shouting now, panic rising in his throat, and you suddenly felt wholly unprepared for this conversation. “I’ll be damned if I allow that sorry excuse of a man and a father, to think about bringing up new children. Robbing you of your chance to have a real partner by your side. Someone to help you care for, and love your children. You...you deserve so much better than him, I don’t understand.” Natsuo was holding back tears now, chest heaving as he breathed, and you couldn’t take it. Gathering him up in your arms, you brought the man in for a tight hug. Cradling him in, and rubbing his back as he began to cry, mumbling nonsense into your neck as you just held him, and closed your eyes, willing back your own tears as you bared witness to something for the first time: the result of Enji’s fathering. Or, your brain offered up weakly: the lack thereof. Even more so...his abuse. Here you were, experiencing the aftermath first hand, and it made your heart hurt so deeply, and your mind race. You wanted to beat the shit out of Enji for doing this to Natsuo, but what could be done about it now? Enji was trying, he was trying so hard every day. But Natsuo was clinging to his hate, and his anger, and his fears, and who were you to tell him he should let them go? At least this way, you rationalized, you could be there for him when they became too much. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Im sorry,” you whispered into his hair, raking your fingers through it as Natsuo shuddered through another sob, and shook his head in your chest. “I'm so sorry, Natsuo. I’m so, so sorry.” He mumbled something then, body tense, refusing to be pulled back to see your face, even as you tried. “What?” You asked quietly, tilting your head to hear him better. “Do you love /us/?” ‘Me’. Do you love me he’d asked first, you realized, and your heart beat sped up as you did your best to squeeze Natsuo impossibly tighter- head in his hair as you nodded. “I love you all so much. Fuyumi, Shoto. I have love for your mother, and for Toya. And I love you, Natsuo, I love you so much. I’m honored to be able to call you my family now. I do love you,” you reassured him, shushing him quietly through a new set of sobs, before tensing when Natsuo suddenly sat up, hot breath and humid, tear stains cheeks ghosting across your face as icy grey eyes met yours. He was nearly panting with the effort to stop his crying, clearly looking for something as he stared at you, before he was leaning forward and smashing your lips together in a heated, desperate kiss.

thus concludes the drabble, now on to the end notes lol

So yeah, that’s it lol, lemme know what you guys think? The plan for this originally was to have some sort of double todoroki x male!reader endgame, where he’d end up with both Enji and Natsuo, by some means. Though not without a fair bit more angst thrown in. Arguments, fighting, etc etc. But I did wanna have them all three be endgame someway or another.  Which, yes, would include incest. Whether direct or indirect, cuz one could make the argument they’re sort of just dating the same person, which is also fine- cuz it’s adorable to me, but they’d all be fucking at some point, even if most of the attention is solely on the male reader, it would happen. That’s part of the big reason I wanna do this drabble interest checks, because they give you a glimpse into my problematic mind, and you can decide for yourselves if you wanna stick around and be a part of it, or leave.  Not to say poly relationships are problematic in the slightest, of course- I adore poly ships, and hope to write some in the future- but incest? Boy howdy.  But I love it sksksk >;3  So lemme know what you guy’s think of this fic! If you want to see it continued, if so, how so?  Feel free to ask me anon or otherwise about kink and dynamics, sfw or nsfw, if you’d like too. I’m gonna make an updated kink list with kinks I will be writing about eventually, so you can decide to stick around and see them, or show yourself out so they don’t bother you. My space is mine, so I will not be responding to, or entertaining people who want to be upset about them, or disagree with my tastes. It’ll get you nowhere, telling you right now.  But yeah. Lemme know guys. <3 Vixen

[morganayenneferburnham]

Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angels Roll their Eyes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33661984/chapters/83654680

A very short summary: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker's crazy schemes.

Nikolai Lantsov. King of Ravka. He was privateer extraordinaire Sturmhond?

Word count: 2k

A/N:  So I wrote my first fic! Hopefully at least one person likes it! I just posted the first chapter today. The second one should follow somewhat soon ☺️I’m currently writing the third chapter!

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angels Roll their Eyes

Nikolai Lantsov. King of Ravka. He was privateer extraordinaire Sturmhond?

Y/N couldn’t quite believe it. She had been a fan of him for years. Asking for the latest news on the voyages of the Volkvolny and its captain every chance she got. They were legendary. When Kaz had told her a few days prior that Sturmhond was going to be with them for a job she had barely been able to contain her excitement. Now, she was mortified. How could she work with a king?

Had she not been standing next to Kaz during the meeting she’d never have believed it.

“How long have you known, Kaz? I mean, I know you’ve worked with him before but…” her voice trailed off in a question.

“I figured it out when we first met.” His mind traveled back to that day. Meeting the privateer by the Geldrenner hotel’s baths, just a few years ago. They had been trying to save Kuwei Yul-Bo, a Shu inferni who’d had the misfortune of being the son of the fabrikator who created Jurda Parem, making him the most valuable hostage in the world. They had auctioned him off, faked his death, and gotten revenge on Jan Van Eck all at the same time. “The king of Ravka wouldn’t just let anyone represent his country in important matters. The fact that he always travels with at least one member of the Triumvirate doesn’t help him keep his identity secret either.” He scoffed. “He really should stop doing that.” Kaz sounded almost… annoyed?

“I take it you’ve given him that particular piece of advice and he didn’t listen?” She smirked. “Though, you know, I’m glad Zoya Nazyalenski tagged along. She is even more gorgeous than I thought.”

“He never listens. Almost as stubborn as you.” He huffed. The glare he gave her would’ve been enough to scare most people, however, she was not most people. She considered Kaz family, and she knew that Kaz did too, in his own way. They had both lost siblings to the city after all. She had joined his crew a few months after they had lost Matthias and Nina had gone back to Ravka. He had needed a new corporalnik and she had made fast friends with Inej, Jesper, and Wylan. As much as Kaz had tried to keep the young tailor at arm’s length, she had found a way to worm herself into his cold guarded heart. His look softened before he continued. “You should steer clear of her. She’s just as icy as she appears. Wouldn’t want you to get your heart broken before the job.” That was his way of showing he cared.

“Don’t worry, Kaz, I’m not looking to marry her. Maybe she’d be open to a bit of fun?” She laughed, throwing her long auburn hair over her shoulder, and made her way back to Jesper and Wylan down the corridor.

---

A few days had passed since they’d met with Sturmhond. He and Zoya had temporarily moved into the slat. Kaz had been cooped up in his office, wearing his scheming face most of that time. Everyone could tell Kaz’s plan was going to involve multiple steps and deceptions.

Since they hadn’t been working any other jobs, the crows had been left to their own devices for the first time in months. Kaz occasionally called on them for their expertise, but they had a lot more downtime than they were used to. They had taken advantage of it to get to know their new teammates. Y/N had mostly struck out with Zoya, though she had managed to make her laugh a few times, to everyone’s surprise. Maybe with more time, she’d have a small chance with Zoya? The young grisha had also tried to wrap her head around the identity of her favourite privateer. She now found herself sitting in Kaz’s office, Jesper and Wylan on her right and Sturmhond and Zoya on her left. Kaz looked all business, so serious she feared he’d give himself an aneurysm.

“I need you to tailor him. Once you’re done, you’ll tailor yourself.” Kaz nodded in Sturmhond’s direction sitting behind his cluttered desk, hands resting on his crow’s head cane.

Y/N looked up at Inej who had been sitting at Kaz’s window. “May I ask why? Hasn’t he already been tailored?” She gestured to the privateer before returning her hand to her lap. “He doesn’t look like the king of Ravka.”

Kaz rolled his eyes. “Why must you always question me?” He sighed. “Yes, he has been tailored, nonetheless, he is too easily recognizable as Sturmhond. I need you both to look like rich Kaelish merchants. It shouldn’t be too hard for you?”

“Of course not. You know there’s nothing I can’t do, Brekker.” She replied in Kaelish. She softened her tone before continuing in Kerch. “I’m simply asking you to share your brilliant scheme with us mere mortals” Her voice was laced with sarcasm. Inej stifled a laugh. It looked like the Suli girl couldn’t help but smile at the other’s antics.

Kaz groaned. “Fine, I’ll share my plan for the job. It’d be easier if you just listened. I’ll explain it once so pay attention – Jesper!” Poor Jesper jumped on his chair. He’d been staring at Sturmhond since they’d all entered the office. Y/N couldn’t blame him. The privateer did have an inexplicable charm despite his tailored features.

“Yes, Boss!” Jesper straightened in his chair and sent an apologetic look to Wylan.

“Alright, to pull this one off we’ll need blueprints that can only be found in Gert Van Verent’s safe. He keeps his office under lock and key – ”

“Wait, you want us to break into a councilman’s house, again? Why can’t you do it Kaz? You’re the best at picking locks.”

“Well, if you hadn’t interrupted me” he was glaring daggers at her now, his eyes the hue of bitter coffee “you’d know that two guards are posted outside his office, at all times” he’d emphasized the last part and raised a hand to stop Y/N from interrupting him again “and his windows are protected behind steel bars.” Y/N nodded once slowly indicating she was willing to listen with no more interruptions.

“Van Verent is throwing a party in the hopes of finding his eldest daughter a husband. Being a devout Kerch merchant, he is also using the occasion to find new business ventures. The party is our window of opportunity. That-” he gestured to her and Sturmhond “is where you two come in. Ainsley and Eoin Ó Ceallaigh, newlyweds from the Wandering Isle, looking to extend your exporting business to Kerch. I already secured your invitation” Y/N felt her jaw drop. No sound came out. All she could do was stare at Kaz. He had finally lost it. He wanted her and the king of Ravka to assume false identities and pretend to be married? Dirtyhands had gone mad.

Wylan was the one who voiced her concern. “Kaz? I know Y/N’s a talented tailor and well she is Kaelish so that part’s covered but, well, um, no disrespect Sturm-, Sir? Your Highness? But, um, do you speak Kaelish?”

The king smiled. He looked amused at Wylan’s confusion. He replied in perfect unaccented Kaelish “Call me Nikolai, it will make for less confusing conversation. Of course, I speak Kaelish, I have been educated in 6 languages. I also had a fondness for Kaelish poetry in my youth.”

Everyone seemed to relax at that. However, Y/N could tell she was going to need Jesper’s help to undo the knots in her shoulders later that night. “Kaz? I don’t think I’m that great of an actress… You also haven’t told us how we’re supposed to get the plans if we do get in.”

“Don’t worry darling, I’m sure we’ll manage. I’m talented enough for the both of us” Nikolai winked at her. Nikolai, who just so happened to be the privateer she had admired for years. She felt her cheeks flush. Saints, she thought, this is going to be a nightmare.

“Jesper and Wylan have also been invited to the party thanks to Wylan’s new position on the merchant’s council.” She had never been more grateful to Kaz for overlooking the interruptions. “They’ll cause a distraction, with Nazyalenski’s help, to let you and Nikolai slip past the guards and break into Van Verent’s office.” He stopped and looked at Y/N. “I know you can pick the lock and crack the safe. I trained you myself after all.”

The discussions and planning continued well into the night. Y/N wasn’t convinced it was such a good plan, but everyone else seemed on board so she kept her mouth shut. All she could do now was make sure to memorize all she could before the job. The party was two days away, which didn’t give them much time to learn all they could about their characters. Kaz had instructed Nikolai and Y/N to spend every waking moment working together to make sure they made a believable couple.

Twelve hours in, Y/N was cursing herself for saying she wasn’t a great actress. If she’d only pretended to be confident in her acting abilities, she might have been allowed to take a break from the insufferable king. Well, insufferable might have been a little dramatic but the man loved himself way too much. They had memorized their stories in the first 8 hours and were now being quizzed by Wylan and Jesper while she started tailoring them both, yet the King would not stop flirting with her. He also made sure to touch her every chance he got. A brush of his fingers on her cheek, of his knuckles on hers, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. She knew it was just harmless fun for him. It was driving her completely mad. She just wanted him to take the job seriously.

“How did he propose?” Wylan asked for the third time in the past two hours.

Y/N sighed and moved her fingers through Nikolai’s hair to darken it. “It was incredibly romantic. He had planned a picnic by the lake where we met.” Her cheeks were already starting to hurt from the plastered smile on her face.

“I had all of her favourite foods, of course” Nikolai interjected, moving to softly caress the girl’s cheek.

Y/N had to restrain herself from slapping his hand away. “Yes, even strawberries, in winter! Can you believe it? Once the sun began to set, he dropped to one knee and pulled the ring from the picnic basket with a bouquet of winter roses. I’m so lucky to have fallen in love with such an attentive and caring man.” She turned to Kaz who had been observing them, leaning against the doorframe, and dropped the smile from her lips. “Was that satisfactory, Boss?”

Kaz shrugged. “It’d be better if you didn’t look like you wanted to stab him every time he touches you.”

Y/N released a breath. “Maybe if you’d let me take a break...” her tone was pleading.

Kaz smiled at that. He was finally wearing her down. Giving her a taste of what she’d put him through the last two years felt like sweet justice to him. He liked the girl well enough, but she had a way of getting on his nerves. He took no pity on her. “You’ll keep going until I actually believe you are in love with him.” He left the room with a pointed look at her.

Zoya released an amused laugh. “I’m just glad Nikolai found someone else to bother for a change.” She smiled smugly at Y/N. “Don’t worry, he’s mostly harmless. Just come find me if he gets too handsy, I’ll put him in his place for you.”

Y/N couldn’t believe it. Zoya had definitely sent her a wink before following behind Kaz. Maybe all her flirting had paid off?

“Sweetheart, I’m hurt, you are taking more interest in my general than in your own handsome husband.” Nikolai’s tone was toeing the line between mock hurt and amused.

She turned back to the three men in front of her. “Jesper, please, just shoot me.”

[andithiel]

I've been feeling a bit detatched from my writing lately, but I wanted to do something for Harry's birthday. So I managed to get out 2k of, I think maybe fluff? Many thanks to @booktopusmunro for the speedy beta and encouragement ❤️ Happy birthday Harry! Sidenote: Sega Mega Drive was called Sega Genesis in the US. This fic is loosely based on a scene from the Friends episode “The One Where Rachel Finds Out”.

Start Level

“Everybody! Hey, everybody, settle down! It’s time for Harry to open his presents!”

Ron’s sonoroused voice made Harry wince as he sat cross-legged in his favourite squishy armchair. A belly full of birthday cake and the comfort of  his friends surrounding him made Harry sleepy; but as he watched them all scramble to get seated as close to him as possible, a warmth rose in his chest. Ron had, of course, already sat down on the sofa closest to Harry before he made the announcement, but at Harry’s single raised eyebrow he shrugged with a crooked grin.

Harry snorted. He knew that with five older brothers, it was inevitable that Ron knew how to get to the front first. He looked around the room, trying not to tear up at the sight of all his friends gathered around, sitting on each other’s laps or perched on tables and armrests, all looking expectedly at him.

“Oh dear, what’s wrong with him?” Pansy stage-whispered to Hermione.

“Nothing,” said Harry, to let Hermione off the hook. “I’m just happy to get to spend my birthday with the people I love.”

Well, all except one, he thought. Draco hadn’t been able to get out of his work shift, and Harry refused to admit how disappointed he’d been when he’d found out about that, because it wasn’t reasonable for him to be. It wasn’t as if he expected Draco to be around all the time now just because they were sort of friends, or at least hung out in the same friend circles. But still, it wasn’t every day you turned 25 and wanted to celebrate with the people you cared most about.

Harry accepted the gift that Ron handed to him with a smile and a “Happy birthday, mate.” He tore the wrappings off to reveal a set of Wizards Chess. At Harry’s puzzled expression Ron explained. “Well, since you lost your old set I thought I’d give you a new one so we can play again!”

“Right,” Harry said with a tight smile, not mentioning that he knew damn well where his old set was (buried deep in a box in his attic because he was sick of losing to Ron all the time). “Thanks,” he managed to grind out, hoping it sounded sincere.

The rest under the cut or on ao3

“Maybe this one will be more useful,” said Blaise, as he handed Harry a thick, heavy parcel.

“Thanks Blaise!” Harry turned the package in his hands. “Hmmm, it feels like a book. Pretty sure it’s a book.” He unwrapped it. “And it’s a book! It’s— oh.”

“What, Harry?” Luna straightened up a bit to try and get a look.

“Um, nothing,” said Harry, trying to hide the Kama Sutra for Beginners behind his back. “Nothing, it’s, uh, I’ll have a closer look at this later.”

Blaise smirked and Harry whipped his head around to the stack of gifts next to him, wanting to occupy his mind with something other than the writhing bodies on the cover of the book currently taking up all the space in his head. “Who’s this from?” He picked up a big box wrapped in black paper with little golden snitches on it and a big golden bow on top.

“Oh that’s Draco’s,” said Pansy. “I promised I’d give it to you since he couldn’t make it today.”

“Right, right. Thanks Pansy,” Harry mumbled as he carefully peeled the tape from the paper, both so he wouldn’t tear it and so he could busy himself with the task instead of thinking about how Draco was holed up in St Mungo’s on Harry’s birthday.

He finally managed to get all the tape off and unwrapped the gift slowly. The sight of the box made him let out a gush of air, unable to believe that this was really real. Had Draco actually bought him—?

“What is it, Harry?” asked Hermione, trying to lean in closer to see what was in the box.

“I can’t—” Harry began, before swallowing and starting over. “I can’t believe he remembered.”

“What? What is it?” came a collective query from the group, everyone edging closer now.

Carefully, Harry opened the box to see if the content really matched the exterior, and when he’d made sure it really did, he had to pause again to blink repeatedly against the sting in his eyes. Then he picked up the black plastic box, twisting it in his hands. The room was silent, probably because few of them knew what this was.

“It’s a Muggle video game,” Harry tried to explain. “It’s… It must’ve been weeks ago, months maybe. We passed a Muggle second-hand store and I saw this and I… I made some throwaway comment about how Dudley used to have one of these but I was never allowed to play.” He stroked his thumb over the white letters forming the words “Mega Drive SEGA”, while memories of how he’d desperately wanted to play resurfaced in his mind. This console, like so many others before and after it, had not lasted long in the Dursley household. Before Harry had had any chance at trying it out, Dudley had stomped on it after the umpteenth attempt of getting past Dr. Eggman in the Oil Ocean Zone.

“Oh,” said Hermione softly in his ear, making him realise how close she was. “I remember these! Never had one myself but I sometimes played on my friend’s.”

Harry couldn’t stop staring. It wasn’t an extravagant gift, money-wise, but the thoughtfulness and the effort it must have taken Draco to find this for him was astounding. The game was almost mint condition. Draco must’ve gone back to the store to get a better look, and then found it in another store, because the one they’d seen had been old and battered. The gift made something stir in Harry, something he hadn’t allowed himself to think about before, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for even now.

“Oh, come on, remember when Draco went to Healer school and he fell in love with Keith Hendricks and bought him that ridiculously expensive non-spatter cauldron?” Ron chortled on Harry’s other side.

The room fell quiet and it took a few seconds for Ron’s words to process in Harry’s brain. He snapped his eyes up, looking sharply at Ron, whose ears had gone bright red.

“What did you just say?”

Ron’s eyes went wide and he gave Pansy, who was staring at him with a thunderous expression, a panicked look. “Uh…” said Ron, then cleared his throat several times while shrinking into the sofa. “Er… huh… ummm, non-spatter cauldron?”

“No. No, no,” said Harry, trying to wrap his head around Ron’s words. “The um, the ‘love’ part?”

Ron was now spluttering, frantically looking around the room for any sort of help from someone, and that was enough for the truth to register in Harry’s brain.

“Oh. My. God,” was all he managed to get out.

“Oh, noooo nononononono,” Ron chanted, rubbing his temples. “Noooo, I’m such a lousy friend!”

“I cannot believe this is the first time I hear about this!” Pansy snapped. “And to think that Draco confided in you, of all people!”

Ron straightened up and threw her a sharp look. “Hey! The ferret and I have a very trusting and mature friendship!”

“Yes, clearly he did the right thing trusting you with this information!” Pansy said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well it’s not like I’ve told anyone else! I’ve even kept it from my own wife!”

“Oh, bravo, Weasel, ten points to Gryffindor.” Pansy inclined her head in Ron’s direction and clapped her hands in mock applause. “And then you chose this moment to spill the beans, very clever. I’ll have you know that I’ve kept it a secret that he had a crush on Potter back at Hogw—” she said, but interrupted herself. “Er, nevermind.”

Harry felt like he was watching a ping pong match, his mind reeling at all this information. Draco’d had a crush on him at Hogwarts? And now he was in love with him?

“Aha!” Ron shouted triumphantly. “Who’s the bad friend now?”

“Can the two of you shut the fuck up?!” Harry said, surprised at his own words and the force behind them. “I need to think.”

“Yes! Yes, give the poor man some space to think!” Ron hastily said, his expression amix of relieved and frantic.

But before Harry had time to properly panic, the door opened.

“Well, I had to bribe Healer Merriweather by taking all her night shifts for a month, but at least I managed to get here,” said Draco as he stepped inside, impeccably dressed as ever. “Please tell me I haven’t missed the cake.” He paused in front of the doorway, looking around the room, all eyes turned on him. “What? What happened? Is there something on my shirt?” He started patting himself all over, looking for a non-existing stain.

Harry could only stare at him, at the way his hair fell into his eyes and how he had to constantly flick his head to keep it away. The flush on his cheeks from apparently having rushed from the hospital, just to be able to celebrate Harry’s birthday because he knew how important it was to him. Or maybe because he’d seen how disappointed Harry’d been when Draco’d told him he wouldn’t be able to make it and now he‘d wanted to make it up to him. The care with which he had selected a present for Harry just to make him happy. There was a swooping sensation in Harry’s stomach, and suddenly his mouth started speaking before he could stop himself.

“You’re in love with me?”

Draco froze, his eyes widening comically before flitting around the room to finally land on Ron, who seemed to try to make himself a permanent part of Harry’s sofa. After a split second, Draco leaned back into the hallway, not meeting Harry’s eyes once. “Wait, what’s that? Oh, no! I see Head Healer Patel’s patronus, oh this can’t be good, I really must be off.”

He turned around and bolted for the door, but with the reflexes of a seeker, Harry apparated into the hallway, right in front of the stairs.

“You’re in love with me,” he repeated, more like a statement now, or maybe a confirmation to himself.

Draco folded his arms across his chest, lifting his chin. “I have no idea what gave you that impression, Potter, but—”

“Ron told me. Or, well, to be fair he accidentally let it slip.”

“Weasel,” Draco hissed. “I should’ve known it was unwise to get drunk with him. That red-headed buffoon act is a great cover to trick people into trusting him with—”

He didn’t get any further, because right then, Harry decided that he needed to do what he did best: use his gut. And his gut told him that he was pants with words, especially compared to Draco. And he wanted to make Draco stop talking, so he did the first thing that came to mind. He stepped closer and pressed his lips to Draco’s. It was probably the most chaste kiss he’d ever experienced, and yet it gave his stomach that funny swooping feeling again. Draco made a funny sound, like a mix of a squeak and a sharp inhale, and Harry realised that maybe this wasn’t what Draco wanted and started to pull back. But then he was thoroughly proven wrong when Draco grabbed him by the collar and pushed him backwards until they hit the opposite wall. Harry gasped when his head thumped against it, and then again when Draco opened his mouth and really kissed him, hands still fisted in Harry’s shirt.

It was the kind of kiss that, had they not been in Harry’s hallway, it would’ve led to other things. Harry’s body responded immediately, and he desperately wanted more. But their frantic snogging came to an abrupt halt when they suddenly realised they weren’t alone anymore.

“Oh,” someone said softly, and Harry didn’t need to look to know it was Luna.

Then someone (who sounded a lot like Pansy) shouted “What?” and there was the unmistakable sound of all their friends rushing to get to Harry’s front door first, then someone else (definitely Ron) yelled, “I don't need to see that!”

Harry kept his gaze firmly on Draco, cheeks gone pink and lips wonderfully kiss-swollen.

“Let’s go to your place, yeah?”

Draco nodded, eyes bright, his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth. Harry couldn’t wait to suck it into his mouth again.

“Right, hang on for one second,” Harry said, fishing out his wand from his pocket. “Accio Draco’s present!” With a spark of satisfaction he heard Blaise mutter “Ow!” when the box undoubtedly smacked into his head as it zoomed towards Harry’s outstretched hand.

But just as he was about to catch it, Draco cast a Depulso, making the game fly towards Luna, who caught it with an expression of curiosity as she twisted it in her hands.

“I’m very happy that you like your present so much, but trust me, Harry,” Draco murmured into his ear, “there won’t be time for any video games when I get you alone.”

[temilyrights]

resisting you was always impossible (temily)

Summary: Tara Lewis x Emily Prentiss. Emily and Tara are forced to spend the night in a motel when a storm hits. (oh no there’s only one bed).

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is my first fic that doesn't include a reader and I'm proud. I was forced to write this because there just aren't enough Temily fics, and I'm completely obsessed with them (also would like to marry them both pls and ty<3) Please let me know what you think! I'm hoping to write for them more in the future :)

Read on AO3

Emily swore under her breath as she pushed her way into the motel room, her clothes and hair were absolutely drenched, and she was currently rethinking every single life decision that had led her to where she was now.

Stuck in a motel room.

with only one bed.

with the ONLY person that she’d been trying to avoid getting into any situation with that blurred the lines of professionalism.

“Oh, thank god, we’ve got towels.” Tara sighed in relief, grabbing the ratty towels from the cupboard as Emily shut the door.

She chucked one in Emily’s direction and used the other to squeeze the water from her hair as she made her way over to her go-bag she’d dropped onto the table.

She looked over her shoulder at Emily, who stood frozen, and frowned. “You okay, Prentiss?”

Emily cleared her throat and made to squeeze the water out of her own hair. “Yeah.”

Tara snorted and turned back to the bag. She rested the towel on her shoulder to free up her hands. She unzips the bag and rummages through for a moment before pulling out an old band t-shirt. She turns around and holds it up for Emily to inspect.  “This okay? It’s about all I’ve got.”

“Pardon?” Emily frowned.

“You need something to change into unless you plan on catching hypothermia and considering you didn’t have your go-bag in the SUV, you’re stuck with my clothes.”

Emily struggles to breathe. “Right.” She nods, “Uh, yeah. That’s fine.”

She steps forwards and takes the shirt from Tara. “Thanks, I’m gonna...” She points in the direction of the bathroom and without waiting for a response quickly disappears.

Once the door is shut behind her Emily proceeds to quietly freak the fuck out.

Of course, it was her luck that a storm would hit on their drive back from interviewing a perp at Arizona state prison (who they suspected of being connected to their current case). The rain was so bad Emily could hardly see the road and Tara had suggested stopping for the night and picking back up in the morning when the rain would have hopefully calmed.

Which was a smart idea, but Emily had protested up until the point the car slid and nearly drove off the side of the road.

With anyone else, this situation would be annoying but fine.

But Emily’s heart fluttered stupidly around Tara and she’d taken to telling herself multiple times a day that she was Tara’s boss and that nothing could happen.

It wasn’t helping.

“Suck it up, Prentiss.” She told herself. She’d taken down serial killers; she could handle an inconvenient crush.

Emily stripped out of her clothes, leaving only her underwear on, which thankfully hadn’t been soaked through because honestly, Emily didn’t know how she would have coped if she had had to ask Tara for some. She hung the clothes over the side of the bath to dry and slipped on Tara’s T-shirt.

It was an old Rolling Stones one, and despite her and Tara’s height difference, it barely covered her ass.

“Perfect.” She muttered, and with one last look in the shitty motel mirror, Emily opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom.

And then proceeded to nearly have a stroke.

Because Emily was painfully aware of how attractive Tara was, but she was totally not prepared to see her very long, very beautiful legs. She was wearing a vest top along with short sleep shorts, and it was just a lot of beautiful skin.

“You okay, Prentiss?” Tara asked for the second time that night, with a smirk that Emily desperately wanted to kiss off her face.

“Yeah, I, uh,” Emily scrambled for something to say, “I tried phoning Rossi to let him know what happened but there’s no cell reception.”

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out. We can leave early tomorrow so we can be back at the station for nine.” Tara said as she leant down to grab something from where it rested on the bed.

Emily managed to avert her eyes from Tara’s legs just before the women straightened up and met her gaze. She held out a chocolate bar. “Want this?”

“You have food? You’re a godsend.” Emily praised, happily accepting the bar and chucking her phone onto the bed in the process. They’d been planning on grabbing dinner when they’d gotten back to the hotel, which obviously hadn’t happened. There was no way they were going to be able to order food in this weather and Emily hadn’t eaten since lunchtime.

“Of course, you don’t keep snacks in your go-bag?” Tara’s brows raised in disbelief.

“No, but I will be from now on because that’s genius.”

Tara chuckled. “It’s not a lot. Just that chocolate bar, some trail mix, and a few nutrition bars, but they’re great for emergencies.” Tara’s lips spread into a smirk, her eyes dancing. “And apparently warding off hangry Prentiss’”

Emily scoffed. “I don’t get hangry.”

“Oh, yes you do.” Tara cackled, taking a step closer to her.

“No, I don’t!”

“Sorry, but you do.”

“I do not! Take it back!” Emily ordered, stepping forward to jab a finger at Tara.

“It’s okay Prentiss, a lot of people do.” Tara’s voice lowered, that irritating smirk still painting her lips.

“Yeah, well I’m not a lot of people!” Emily rebutted and knew her face was heating up from her proximity to Tara.

Their breath was practically mingling, and Emily desperately needed to step away. To end whatever this was.

“Oh, I’m very much aware,” Tara said in a way that couldn’t be misconstrued as anything other than flirting. Her eyes dropped to Emily’s lips as her fingers brushed her chin, angling Emily’s head upwards, bringing her mouth dangerously close to hers.

Emily couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stare deeply into Tara’s eyes. They twinkled but there was a softness behind them, her grip was gentle on Emily’s chin giving her plenty of chance to pull away, but Emily couldn’t remember any of the reasons she should.

So, instead, she nudged her head forward and met Tara’s lips.

And Tara kissed just like she did everything else, with precision, care, and passion. Emily’s hands threaded through Tara’s hair as Tara’s hands ran down her back.

The first sweep of Tara’s tongue had Emily whimpering. Even if she was thinking clearly, she wouldn’t have been able to name a single person who’d even turned her into putty this quickly.

Emily kissed back with everything she had, fighting Tara’s tongue for dominance as they stumbled back towards the bed.

They both breathed heavily as they separated, Tara sat down on the bed and tugged Emily into her lap. Her hands ran down Emily’s side, settling on her hips. Tara stared at her with soft eyes and swollen lips and Emily thought she was the most beautiful thing in the whole world.

But as she stared at Tara her mind began to clear and the full reality of what Emily had just done hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Oh god.”  Emily gasped, eyes widening in horror. “Shit. No. Fuck. Oh god.” She scrambled out of Tara’s lap and off the bed, moving to the other side of the room to put as much space between them as possible.

“We can’t- I shouldn’t have- I-” Emily blew out a breath as she struggled to find what to say. Tara just stared at her confusion and hurt shining in her eyes.

“I’m your boss.” Emily settled on, looking at Tara with desperate eyes. “We can’t do that. We can’t be...” It hurt more than it should have. She could feel her heart cracking.

Tara stood up and approached Emily. “It’ll be okay. There are plenty of agents that have dated while being on the same team.”

Emily shook her head, “I’m your boss. It’s different. There are rules in place for a reason-”

Tara scoffed, “Yeah because of Rossi.” She tried to reach for Emily’s hand, but Emily just swatted her away. “Really, Em?” Her eyes flashed with hurt. “Look, I understand it’s not an ideal situation but are you telling me that you’re just going to be able to forget about what just happened?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re both professionals. We don’t need to make a big deal out of this.” Emily said mostly to herself. Trying to convince herself that she hadn’t just fucked things up.

“Right. Fine.” Tara muttered, not able to hide the way it hurt. She shook her head and made to step away, but Emily’s hand flew out to stop her.

“Wait.” She waited until Tara met her eyes before releasing her wrist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt or upset you. I shouldn’t have let myself get sucked in. I should have stepped away instead of kissing you.”

Emily wanted to make this better, to get that sad look off of Tara’s face.

Tara sighed, “It’s fine, Emily. Let’s just eat and then go to bed. It’s late and I’m tired.”

It was barely 8 o’clock but Emily didn’t want to argue so instead she nodded her head.

The tension when they ate made Emily want to scream. They spoke strictly about the team, keeping the conversation light, and steadily avoiding brushing hands as they shared the bag of trail mix. It was more exhausting than the whole of Emily’s week combined.

By the time she crawled into bed, Emily was ready to hide under the covers and not come out for at least a week. She hated to think of what the next girls’ night would be like...

Tara turned the lights off, plunging the room into darkness before sliding into the bed. “Night.” She murmured.

“Goodnight.”

Emily rolled onto her side, facing away from the other women and tried to fall asleep.

The silence lasted for barely fifteen minutes before Tara sat back up, turned the lamp on and said, “You know what, It’s not fine.”

Emily rolled back over and sat up, wincing at the frustration in Tara’s face.

“You feel something too, right? This wasn’t just about sex. There’s something between us and I don’t want to ignore it just because of some bullshit fraternisation rules that only exist because Rossi is incapable of keeping it in his pants.”

“There are rules for a reason. What if something was to happen in the field, I wouldn’t be able to be objective. If I had to discipline you for a reason it would fuck with our relationship, and plus it would mess with your career if people knew you were sleeping with the boss.” Emily closed her eyes, blowing out a breath before looking at Tara with a pained smile. “I feel it too, okay? I-”

“Then stop fighting it,” Tara ordered. “I don’t care about any of that. We’ll make it work because I really like you Emily and I’m so tired of pretending I don’t.”

Emily’s body melted. Tara reached out and caressed her cheek causing Emily’s eyes to flutter close as she leaned into the contact.

“Let’s just give us a chance,” Tara whispered.

Emily opened her eyes, looking at Tara with adoration and love...because that’s what it was. It wasn’t an inconvenient crush or simple infatuation; Emily had fallen in love with Tara and there was no way of fighting that without breaking her own heart and possibly Tara’s in the process.

Emily steeled herself with a deep breath. “Okay.”

Tara’s eyes lit up in delight and Emily found the sight adorable.

“But we have to stay professional at work.”

“Yes, boss.” Tara teased before leaning in and meeting Emily in a soft kiss.

Emily hummed against her lips, “You’re gonna be the end of me, Tara Lewis.”

Tara chuckled, “Not if I can help it.”

She leaned back in and met Emily’s lips. After a few minutes, Emily groaned causing Tara to pull away with an amused look. “What?”

“I’m just imagining the teasing I’m going to receive from Rossi and JJ when they find out.”

“Well, let’s not think about that now.” She kissed Emily again.

“Yeah, you got a better idea?” Emily hummed in between kisses.

“I’ve got a few.”

Emily slid her hand up to Tara’s neck, dragging her in close and kissing the smirk off her face. Tara mewed and Emily just kissed her deeper, dragging her body down to hers and letting the rest of the world fade away as she focused solely on the beautiful woman on top of her.

taglist: @xrainydazeteax

[nekoannie-chan]

Surviving

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Mutant! Reader

Word count: 754 words.

Summary: HYDRA changed your powers, now you have to steal other people's hopes and dreams so you don't have nightmares and survive, what if Steve finds out?

Warnings: When Reader was a child was kidnapped by HYDRA. Also, reader’s power is similar as Tandy Bowen’s (Dagger) powers.

Death of characters.

A/N: This is my entry to @firefly-in-darkness’s 2K Follower Celebration with the dialogue prompt #11:

“My dreams were taken from me. But now…now I’ve stolen them from someone else.”

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @saiyanprincessswanie​ @charmed-asylum​ @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme

Your heart was beating super-fast, you had to get out of that place soon, no one should know you were there.

Even Steve didn’t know about that power you had; he only knew a few things you lived through during the time you were kidnapped by HYDRA.

When you thought you were far enough away, you tried to catch your breath, maybe you didn't need to do that to survive, maybe you were, you weren't sure, but it was horrible when you didn’t, not counting every time HYDRA forced you to steal dreams and hopes from enemies.

"Another one, similar to the past case," Clint said, entering the room where everyone was gathered.

Everyone in the room looked at the newspaper that Clint had thrown on the table, it had been a few weeks since the last "attack" like that, which happened on the night of last Saturday, Tyrone turned and saw Tandy, he was suspicious of her while you held your breath, they could not realize that you were responsible, it was never your intention that they would end up dead, but it seemed that humans could not live without dreams or hope.

A few hours later you could hear Ty and Tandy arguing, however, she had an alibi, had been with Nico that day.

"Where were you on Saturday?" asked Tandy.  

You stopped reading the report when you heard her voice, you hadn’t noticed when she came in, yet you know she was suspicious of you.

"Y/N was with me," Steve replied, entering your office. “I don't think you wanna know any more details...”

Tandy beckoned, the information was enough for her, you smiled and she left.

"Where were you really?" questioned Steve quietly after making sure Tandy wasn’t around.

"I went to visit my parents' grave," you lied, although you were sure that if Steve found out the truth, his heart would break, he probably wouldn't understand your motivation.

Two months since that incident had passed, you had to go out and get that... even if it were a little portion. The last two weeks, each night you’d had nightmares, which meant the source you got that time was over.

You went out in silence, you were watching that man for a few days without anyone knowing, you never attacked anyone who didn’t deserve it, you slowly approached the man and smiled at him, he probably thought you were flirting with him, you took out the precious white light from the man with incredible, he was knocked unconscious.

"So, you were responsible.”

You turned right away, there was Steve. There was no way to hide, you didn't have many options either, the only solution was to confess, maybe Steve wouldn't understand, maybe he’d send you to the Raft, but at least he'd find out the truth.

“My dreams were taken from me. But now…now I’ve stolen them from someone else.”

"What? It doesn’t make sense, there’s no justification for killing someone.”

"I don’t mean to kill them, but it seems that humans can't live without dreams or hope.”

"Y/N, what does this mean, what's that in your hand?”

"I told you, this beautiful little ball is what I need if I don't have it... it's horrible, I can't stop having nightmares. Is not my fault, they kidnapped me and modified my power, I used to...I could make people have beautiful dreams and they... I promise you they’re bad people, I don't want to hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it.”

That's when Steve understood everything, again was HYDRA's fault, they had made you believe you were a monster, they did experiments with you and changed your powers for their benefit.

"We have to go, I can't let them find out, put that away or do what you have to do, but we have to leave soon,” Steve said, holding your arm to get you up.

You looked at him without understanding, yet you moved your hand to undo the light and absorb it. You followed him without saying anything, you were sure he was going to take you to some authority, yet he took you to one of the safe houses the Avengers have.

"Steve, what are you going to do, are you going to rat on me? “You questioned nervously.

"No, it's not your fault, but I don't want you to take someone else either, you can take mine,” Steve offered.

"But I don't want to hurt you.”

"You won’t, I trust you, I’d do anything for you, I love you.”

[not-poignant]

PART1:Hey Pia! I'm an admirer of your writing and you as a writer and I'm kind of in a little pickle. When I read your stories (longtime lurker but I give every kudo that I can!) your characters feel so real and when you answer questions about them it feels less like a thing you talk about and more like you just k n o w how they would react/feel if x happens. A few years back I had that feeling for a few original charackters of mine too. I didn't need to ponder hours or days to figure out what they will do or how they feel about x, I just knew. I felt like an invisible spectator who just needs to watch and write down what happens.

Now? That feeling is gone. I still have ideas for stories or characters and I want to write, but that inherent feeling to just k n o w is missing which leads to not writing at all or writing like 2k, but everything just reads and feels flat. Like going through the motions.

I miss the i-just-know- connection to my characters.

Do you have any advice how I could get that connection back or how I could foster it for my characters/story ideas?

*

Tbh, you don't need to have that knowing to actually be able to write characters? It can make it more fun, but I haven't always had it. I didn't always have it - for example - with Thomas and Aodhan while writing The Gentle Wolf. Sometimes the decisions I made were based purely on logic and understanding of human behaviour, and the groundwork I'd done at the beginning of the story to create these characters in the first place.

And honestly, sometimes knowing lets you down, because sometimes it's wrong. Being in that position can lead to being very biased on a character's behalf, which can be fine sometimes - especially in Id fics! But is less great in like, realistic fiction or in general. That kind of immersion has pros and cons, just like not having that immersion has pros and cons.

So the main thing is you don't need that immersion to still write great characters and a solid story. It just might take time to learn essentially a new skill in characterisation that you haven't gotten used to using before (which is probably why it reads as flat, not because the non-immersion style is flawed or wrong, but because you're not used to employing it as a skill and might need more practice with it - it reminds me of Lyra with the alethiometer in His Dark Materials - at first she can just instinctively read the alethiometer to predict the future, and then she loses the ability, and has to learn another way of doing it - and there's a kind of grief there - but she learns the other way also has its own value too).

(I feel like Philip Pullman used that analogy to demonstrate that sometimes we can access a skill that is effortless and easy, and if we lose that, we get discouraged and don't want to learn it a new way - but it's worth learning a new way, even if there's grief there too).

The other thing is to...I guess think of the kind of characters you do experience immersion with these days. What stories are you reading where you feel more connected to the characters than normal? Why don't you write those kinds of characters, or even fanfiction of those characters? Is there a disconnect between the characters you're immersing with most vs. the characters you're trying to write?

If you're not feeling connections like that to any character right now, I don't know if you can 'force' immersion. It's usually a sign of burn out or exhaustion or even depression when it's to the point where you're not even connecting/immersing with fictional characters for the sake of entertainment or leisure.

And then honestly I'd recommend rest or...well, whatever you employ to look after yourself when you're Going Through It.

*

Also, sometimes pushing through that flatness can get you through to the other side. I don't think you should force yourself or anything... I mean I don't know you or your position exactly, but I know for myself, I can be tired and start writing and then find the thread of it after a few days or weeks. I'm not always sitting there in fun immersion land, basically.

I've written entire stories where I didn't have the benefit of in-character immersion while writing (I think Eversion comes immediately to mind, I didn't have that for huge chunks of the story - and some of The Beast that Chose Its Own Bridle comes to mind). Sometimes I gained aspects of that immersion after writing a 10,000 word chapter, which helped me re: comment responses, but that doesn't mean I had that feeling or experience during writing, y'know?

Sometimes you only really get to know your characters after 50k of writing them. Which is infuriating. Sometimes you never once experience immersion with them. Tons of successful writers have never experienced it once and wouldn't trust it even if they did, y'know? I don't always trust it myself, I often stop making hard decisions for characters when I go into that zone, so I've also had to learn the skill of detaching myself from that immersion at times too. That's especially true for Augus. Immersion in his character makes me write him badly. I need to step back for him, and he often gets the most brutal overhauling/editing in chapters afterwards, which is a sign of how that style of character connection can be a con, not a pro.

Basically tl;dr there's lots of ways of writing characters and feeling flat on this new technique doesn't mean it's a bad technique. Think about the characters in stories that make you feel immersed and connected to them - ask yourself if those are the characters you're writing, and if that's a possible direction to head. Good luck, anon!

[prettyboymichaels-ao3]

Rewind, Rewire, Reword - Chapter 1: Where Did I Put That Map Again? (Pt. 1)

It’s the week before Wrestlemania 12, he’s preparing to give Shawn Michaels the fight of his life in their 60-minute Iron Man match, and his little brother has decided to drag him out to socialize on an otherwise perfectly ordinary Wednesday night.

Surely, this decision won’t take the course his life was on – and the course his relationship with Shawn was on – and send it into a tailspin.

(Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels ABO AU; NOT Kayfabe Compliant; Words: ~2k; Rating: M; Notes, trigger warning/s, tag list, and chapter under the cut!)

my massive bretshawn abo au is here! as I only have two-ish more scenes to write, and 10 chapters already written to publish on here (separated into smaller “parts” for tumblr, which means I technically have 21 chapters; they’ll be published fully on ao3), I’ve decided to try for an every other day publishing schedule to give myself more time to fully finish this book of the series. so. :) I’ve read and edited and reread and re-edited this more than almost any other fic I’ve written, so HOPEFULLY. I don’t want to edit it MORE after finally PUBLISHING it. sigh. anyway.

-

tw for: attempted sexual assault. it doesn’t actually occur, but this IS the jumping off point for the fic, and it will be referenced throughout. the tw “references to attempted sexual assault” will be used in any chapter that references it

tag list: @track12to13​; @piratewithvigor​; @sinderellanightwolf​. tell me if you want to be tagged for any future chapters!

-

It was times like these when he wondered why he ever bothered going out at all.

They’d gotten to California two days before, early, the way they usually did, leaving the morning after their last match to get a head start and not arrive completely burnt out. They’d spent those two days getting acquainted with their hotel room, their rental car, and the stadium gym they were going to be using the next two weeks. However, “California” didn’t just mean “new match”, it also meant “new towns”, which meant “new opportunities to make Bret socialize”. He’d told Owen, repeatedly, in a variety of ways, that the last thing he needed was a fucking wingman, let alone his happily mated younger brother as a wingman, but he’d just brushed off everything he’d said and dragged him out anyway. “You have almost two weeks to prepare,” he’d scoffed, forcing him to change basically as soon as they got back to their room. “When’s the last time you really let loose?” he’d offered, trying to hustle him out almost before he’d had his shoes tied. “I promised mom I’d try something the last time we talked so would you stop digging your heels in, please,” was his final explanation, as he was hailing a cab to take them out of the city and to some smaller town a little less than an hour away, where they’d be less likely to get recognized, because getting mobbed in a bar or a club was always… not great, to say the least.

But it just really wasn’t Bret’s scene. It just really, really wasn’t. He wasn’t twenty anymore, he couldn’t power through a hangover the way he used to, and he wasn’t in the mood anyway, the way he hadn’t been for the last two years Owen’d been trying to set him up. He’d gotten used to being single by now, he’d even gotten used to his mother’s passive aggressive comments about it every time he called home, and, yeah, being used to it didn’t mean he liked it, but trying to find a date at this point in his life wasn’t exactly easy, at thirty-eight years old, in his line of work, with his designation. Honestly, he didn’t know why Owen was still trying so earnestly; the odds of Bret finding a decent prospective partner at some random club in Somewhere, California was so low it might as well be in the ground.

As such, instead of socializing, the way Owen wanted him to, he’d nursed a glass or two at the bar, had a fairly interesting conversation with an older woman who happened to be the designated driver for a group of girls giggling on the dance floor, and eventually called it quits after hitting the bathroom two hours in. It wasn’t even ten-thirty yet, you’d think he could last a little longer, and he could, he was just… bored. His bar mate was corralling her wayward group to leave, and Owen was having a grand time failing miserably at darts with what looked to be a group of regulars, so he just told him he was heading back to the hotel, refused to be guilted into a game no matter how many times Owen batted his eyelashes or how disappointed he looked, paid his tab, and slipped out into the night with a sigh and his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. It was only slightly cooler outside than it was inside, and it was much less crowded – a few smokers, on the other side of the street, and two people eating a pizza and using the box as their plate a little further down from that. Definitely less busy than Anaheim would be this time of night, and equally less well lit.

There was also, though, something he almost didn’t hear over the noise of the bar:

“…an’t change your mind now!”

“I agreed to go home with you, not you and your fucking friend–”

His foot still raised from where he’d been stepping to the curb to hail a cab, he cocked his head to the alleyway the voices had drifted from – and, there it was, he hadn’t been hearing things, because there was an incredulous laugh, a dull thump, and a pained grunt before another man said, amused, speaking over the rising growls, “C’mon, baby, you really think you’re in a position to turn us down? You’re the one about to go into heat, it won’t matter whose knot you’re taking soon enough.”

Bret was moving before the end of that sentence, rounding the corner to find three figures pressed up against the stone wall beside an open dumpster. They were mostly hidden from the orange street lamps outside the mouth of the alley, but he could still see rough impressions, and they weren’t very promising: two holding the third prone while the third tried to fight back, thrashing and almost snarling with how viciously he was growling, but he was getting nowhere fast, with how successfully he was being restrained. One’s nose was buried in this man’s throat, the other’s teeth visible in the low light as he grinned, and Bret felt his expression twist and harden as he stepped forward. “Hey! You’ve got three seconds to walk away before I make this a fair fight.”

That certainly got their attention, and he saw them all turn his way, their eyes flashing a little in the dark. Parts of their faces were highlighted now – the barest crests of their jaws, their cheekbones, their hair – but he could see the moment their nostrils flared and he was written off as nothing but a nuisance, which was only confirmed when one of them scoffed. “Run away, little beta, this doesn’t concern you.”

And then he turned right back around to continue scenting the man, the omega, who headbutted him so hard in the nose Bret could hear it crack from here. The man howled, staggering away and clutching at his gushing face with both hands, and Bret watched as the omega took advantage of the other man’s stunned disbelief to kick his legs out from under him and send him tumbling to the ground.

Bret didn’t waste any time. He stalked forward, hauling the one on the ground up by the collar of his coat and the waistband of his pants so he could toss him bodily into the open dumpster. The open, empty dumpster, if the clang of metal and yelp of pain were anything to go by. There was a choked off squeal from behind him, and he turned just in time to watch the omega’s leg come back down and the second perpetrator crumple into the fetal position, clutching his groin. That one quickly joined his friend in the dumpster, courtesy of Bret, and the groans and squeaks that resulted from that collision were incredibly satisfying.

He wiped his hands on his jeans before turning back to the omega, raising his hands placatingly when he, too, was met with a sharp, threatening growl. “Hey. You okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

There was an extended moment of silence. “…Bret?”

Oh, perfect, he’d been recognized– …Wait. He knew that voice. He squinted, edging closer, and fuck, now that his eyes had adjusted a little–

“…Shawn?!”

When it sounded like the men in the dumpster were starting to try and gather their bearings, Bret put his hand on – on Shawn’s shoulder and pushed him out of the alley and past the bar, letting his hand fall away and trusting Shawn to follow him as he lead them past another two buildings to turn the corner onto another block, and then a little further still, directly under a street light, far enough to see them coming if they tried it. After getting their asses handed to them so thoroughly, not just by their intended victim but by a little beta to boot, the alphas shouldn’t come sniffing around looking for seconds, but you could never be too careful.

“Jesus, Shawn, what the hell was that?” he hissed, shrugging his jacket off and settling it over Shawn’s shoulders in one fluid motion.

Or he would have, if the man didn’t take an immediate step back and bare his teeth at him, rubbing his arms. Bret scowled. “Can you stop being so stubborn for two seconds–”

“I’m two seconds from kicking you in the fucking balls, Bret, don’t test me,” Shawn barked, taking another step back for good measure. His voice was hoarser than it usually was, and Bret was a little worried about what he’d do if it cracked.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sucked in a breath through his mouth, and blew it out through his nostrils. “Look,” he settled on, staring at Shawn hard, who stared right back. In the orange light illuminating them, he could more clearly see his rumpled clothes, his wrecked hair, his blotchy face, but if he could compare him to anything right now it’d be a cornered animal. “Just – put it under your nose, okay? I know I don’t have much of a scent, but it’s gotta be better than whatever the fuck they were giving off.”

Shawn scoffed, but flexed his fingers from where they were clutching at his biceps, moving his eyes to his jacket. “Gee, when’s the last time you took a high school health class?”

“In high school, asshole, now take it.”

Shawn curled his lip, looking ready to keep arguing, but, shifting his weight on his feet, decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and snatched the jacket from Bret instead. He paused once he had it, glaring at him like he was expecting him to say something, and when Bret just crossed his arms and gave him a look, he finally shoved it under his nose and took a deep breath. Half the tension in his body released in one fell swoop, and with it came a hitch as he buried his face in the leather completely, his hands starting to shake.

Bret, deciding to give him a modicum of privacy, looked behind Shawn to make sure they hadn’t been followed (they hadn’t) and moved to the curb to finally hail a cab. Two of them passed, occupied, before he heard Shawn move up next to him, his jacket still stuffed under his nose. His eyes were a little red, and a little wet, but his cheeks were dry. “I wanna puke,” he rasped, muffled into the leather, and Bret gave a humorless snort.

“If you’re gonna, do it here,” he said, waving at another taxi, and this one actually responded, starting to pull up. “I sure as hell don’t wanna smell it all the way back to Anaheim.”

That earned him a grumble, more lighthearted than anything he’d heard out of Shawn’s mouth tonight, and Bret hid his relief by walking around the idling cab to talk to the driver at his window, digging out his wallet. “You got a divider?”

“Sure do, brother,” the cabbie told him, jerking his thumb to the backseat and the tinted glass that separated him from it. “Got some wet wipes back there, too. Just don’t leave any stains, huh?”

Bret frowned, because that made it all too clear what he thought they were planning on doing in his backseat, but threw a handful of twenties into the driver’s lap anyway, enough to make his eyes widen comically. “That’s to get us to Anaheim. There’s more where that came from if you get us there in forty.”

“Hell, brother, I’ll get you there in thirty,” the cabbie exclaimed, and Bret straightened back up after giving him the hotel’s address, waving at Shawn to get in on his side, which he did one-handed, slamming the door behind him as Bret followed suit. The divider deafened the cabbie’s music to a low rumble, and, as they pulled off, Bret started digging around in the mesh pocket attached to the back of the driver’s seat until he emerged with the aforementioned wet wipes. He tore the pack open, pulling half of them out in one go and passing them over to Shawn, who took them automatically with the hand that wasn’t holding Bret’s jacket to his nose, but gave him a look that said he had no idea what Bret was trying to do here.

He gestured to his own throat. “For your scent glands,” he explained, and he could see the moment the light went off, because Shawn started scrubbing at either side of his neck like a man possessed. Bret used the rest of the wipes to clean his own hands and stuffed them into his pocket after he was done, sinking back against the creaky plastic seats like they might swallow him up, lack of give or no.

[tiredcath]

Zukka Fic Recs

after atla came back into pop culture i found myself falling back in love with zukka which resulted in me reading (almost) every zukka fic on ao3 and here are my favorites

Transference by The_Quatermasters (146k)

In a modern AU, Zuko has to deal with settling in a new school after expulsion, dealing with an angry ex and an abusive father. Maybe his new found friendships and growing closeness with Sokka will help him make it through. 

Borderlines by The_Quatermasters (73k)

Three years after the war, the work still isn't quite done and the Gaang is scattered across the continents in their efforts to help the world recover. When Aang and Katara pay visit to the Fire Nation where Zuko is Fire Lord and Sokka acts as Ambassador for the Water Tribe, sparks fly between the siblings over Sokka's life choices.

Ashes Inside When You Finish Your Song by Muncaster (47k)

Sokka writes lyrics for his sister’s band. Zuko plays piano and is unnecessarily nice. Fellas, is it gay to write love songs about your friend and his golden eyes?

(AKA, a modern band AU featuring The Gaang, crappy software equipment, homoerotic lyrics, and the realization that maybe, if you think about a guy every night before you sleep, you just might be in love with him.)

sirens & sleepless nights by Satirrian (54k)

Life can be pretty hard living in a city under a totalitarian regime. Between adhering to the ridiculous curfew, keeping himself from being gunned down by a passing patrolman, and paying his unnecessary tolls to the state for, say, breathing, Sokka has his hands full just getting to work. Add aiding a resistance group on top of that, and Sokka should really be getting paid for this.

Then, one night, Sokka finds an injured patrolman collapsed in the street, who tells him with blood on his lips, “If the patrol finds me, I’m dead.”

 Real Slow by surveycorpsjean (21k)

“I see.” Zuko closes the scroll. “Is the Water Tribe sending a replacement?”

“Uh yeah,” Sokka gestures to himself dramatically. “You’re looking at him.”

 First by HoneyBadgerMole (20k)

Zuko has been nurturing a crush on the jock in his AP Psych class but he has been too scared to talk to him until they get paired up for a project.

the benefits of getting a flat tire by LesbeanLatte (64k)

Zuko makes an impromptu decision to run away from home after a disturbing conversation with Azula. Unfortunately, some plans are better when they're actually, well, planned. Zuko isn't counting on getting a flat tire almost as soon as he's far enough away from the city to really be in the middle of nowhere.

Sokka is immediately taken with the stranger he and his friends find stranded on the side of the road during an afternoon joy ride. However, he has no idea what he's getting involved with and a kind attempt to help a fellow teen in need turns into a massive coverup for a missing person who just so happens to be the son of the mayor of Ba Sing Se.

Azula was just trying to help her big brother - in her own way - by telling him things she thought he deserved to know. Now the situation has gotten wildly out of control. Did she enjoy seeing Zuko upset and afraid? Of course. Had she intended to endanger his life? Not necessarily, but of course, her idiot brother overreacted to everything and that's what happened and now she doesn't know how to stop the chain of events she's indirectly put in place like dominoes.

Operation Leverage by snowandfire (50k)

Sokka's instincts are onto something great. Zuko just wants to serve tea and brood in peace. Ironically, Toph is the only one who can see what's really going on.

 The Stingray by Smediterranea (24k)

“You’re not carrying me.”

“I don’t mind,” the lifeguard says easily.

“I can just hop over.”

“On sand?”

Zuko will never admit it, but being carried feels pretty nice. The lifeguard sets him down and eyes him warily.

“Are you really all by yourself?” he asks in a worried tone. “No friends in town you can call to check on you?”

“No,” Zuko confirms. Tears are forming again with alarming speed; his foot throbs painfully with every passing second.

“What kind of burrito do you want?”

“You don’t have to —“ Zuko repeats.

“I’m getting al pastor. You like al pastor?”

 AU: Zuko falls for Sokka, the super hot lifeguard who helps him after an unfortunate encounter with a stingray.

 it's the illusion of separation by argentoswan (110k)

Sokka takes a job washing dishes at the new tea shop in town. It's a great gig, until he finds out his only coworker is his old high school bully. Sokka really should quit, but he also really needs to afford rent.

Also, Zuko is kind of hot now.

 People like to think war means something by trying_to_spell_both_our_names_at_once (21k)

Sokka was the first to leave.

Somehow that hurt the most. . . . Not long after Zuko becomes Firelord, forces gather in the South and next thing he knows he's thrown into a civil war with almost no one by his side. Maybe healing is longer and more complicated than it needs to be, but with the right people by your side it is always possible.

 a way that will destroy you by anothermistakemade (14k)

In the wake of Ozai's death, Zuko begins to fall apart. Sokka will do everything in his power to make sure that doesn't happen.

-

or, zuko might be losing his mind, but he also might just be really sad & traumatized

 Those Who Favor Fire by CSHfic, VSfic (30k)

After a failed attempt on his life, Sokka fakes his death, dons a disguise, and infiltrates the would-be assassin's ranks in an attempt to bring them down from the inside.

Zuko learns of his husband's tragic death, mourns, and vows revenge.

 Words Mean More at Night by DaisytheDoodleDog (28k)

Even ten years after the end of the war, rebellions rise and risk the balance of the nations. Sokka was willing to do anything to protect his people, which is perhaps why he's leading an army against the rebellion, attacking only as a last result. But Sokka's unwinding, it's taking a toll on him, and the only thing keeping him grounded are the letter Zuko and him exchange late in the night when no one can see the messenger hawks. But as they say, nothing's fair in love and war.

another word for wanting by eurydicees (23k)

Sokka begins to dream of his soulmate when he's eleven years old, and it just gets harder from there. Or, 125 moments soulmates share, and none of them come easy.

(In which your dreams are your soulmate's memories, and Sokka dreams of an all-consuming fire, growing and eating at his soulmate until it burns up the connection between their souls. In which they find love anyways.)

 It Has Only Just Begun by Kirazalea (39k)

There is a bitter triumph in crashing when you should be soaring

Zuko had now chosen the path his uncle had been trying so hard to show him; he had someone who believed in him, who maybe loved him; he was travelling with the Avatar and they apparently had a plan to end the war. By all accounts, Zuko should be smiling.

But Uncle was gone (captured by Azula, and Zuko didn't think she would kill him, but he didn’t, couldn’t, know for sure). The Avatar was barely breathing (he could still die at any second and there was nothing any of them could do about it). Azula had conquered the last Earth Kingdom stronghold (all those innocent people who were now at her mercy). It seemed like, for every step Zuko took forward, the world sent him back three more.

But he was determined to push forward anyways. He needed to make his uncle proud, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

aka: zuko joins the gaang at the end of season 2

 Nightmares and Reveries by HisMomoness (20k)

Zuko doesn't sleep because when he does, he's haunted by nightmares. Sokka worms his way into a job and makes it his mission to get Zuko to relax. Lots of head pets and one vacation to the South Pole later, Zuko might just be getting the hang of it.

Cue pining, some fluff, and eventual romance.

 The One Who Stopped Time by ohhihoney (66k)

All hope was lost to Zuko until one day, his uncle asked a random person at the Jasmine Dragon to tutor his nephew. Gritting his teeth and embarrassed beyond the point of no return, Zuko gave the blue eyed boy his number.

Little did Zuko know how much Sokka would change his world.

 Rubbed Off Stars by ohhihoney (2k)

Sokka wasn't going to just sit and watch the boy at the back of the bus cry while trying to rub off pride flags off his cheeks.

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

WIP

Ozymandias, King of Kings by Think_of_a_Wonderful_Thought (168k)

After that fateful Agni Kai, Ozai makes a different call. Branded as a traitor and banished to a prison camp, Zuko learns how cruel the Fire Nation can be to its citizens. Three years, a water tribe raid, and an unexpected meeting with a gang of over-enthusiastic idealistic children puts Zuko back in the spotlight. The revolution is coming and it wants another poster boy, but Zuko is not willing to lend his face to the cause.

 Another Brother by AvocadoLove (312k)

It was a mission of revenge. There weren't supposed to be any survivors, but Chief Hakoda couldn't bring himself to kill the Fire Nation boy. Against his better judgment, he brought him home. A Zuko joins the Water Tribe story.

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

BONUS : zuko x jet

Something to Hold Onto by Wildgoosery (122k)

Since the day the walls of Ba Sing Se fell, the Freedom Fighters have struggled to protect what remains of the city and its people. Jet and his second command, a mysterious boy named Li, have spent the summer piecing together an army, hoping for a chance to take the city back for good. But Li is also Zuko, and the time for that secret is quickly running out. Soon, he'll have to decide exactly who he is, what cause he's going to fight for, and where his heart lies.

[dumbass-mha-simp]

Hawks x Reader: Bad Idea

Another self indulgent Hawks fic that I've literally had in my notes for months. He lives in my head rent free along with my other 22 fake boyfriend's because I'm ✨mentally unstable.✨ It is a song fic tho, Bad Idea ft. Shiloh Dynasty https://youtu.be/kH9hJnT7KkE

Tw: food, depression, Hawks is honestly just feeling it bro- same dude,

Word count: almost 2k? I think

Requests are open! Honestly I'm probably terrible but the only things I can think to write are those imaginary situations I put myself in

(Y/L/N)- your last name

(Y/N)- your name

Thoughts or emphasized talk are in italics

Also idk why but I imagine he removes his feathers to shower since they probably need different cleaning conditions and also they just seem like a hassle in showers.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Here he was, the number two prohero. Everyone assumed his life was perfect, anything he wanted served on a gold platter. He felt the guilt creep up into him.

I should be thankful. The thoughts ate away at his mind in the rare seconds he got alone. You shouldn't be so selfish. So annoying. So insufferable.

Takami pushed these thoughts back. "No one needs to know how you think, Keigo." He whispers out to himself in his office.

He scrawled at paper work, trying to not let the self depreciating thoughts feast away on his mind. Unfortunately for him, different thoughts came up.

His best friend, Rumi had this friend. (Y/L/N). Smart, attractive, sometimes a little rough around the edges, but amazing. He found his mind wandering to them all too often.

They were mostly unknown, despite their insanely strong quirk. They preferred to stay out of the lime-light, through that irritable exterior sat overwhelming anxiety and shyness. But they always denied it.

He stopped himself as he realized he's spent 10 minutes only thinking of them, a friend. Yeah right.

He lazily walked out of the office waving to all his employees as he made his way outside. His eyes slowly dragged to the darkly faded blue sky, dusted in clouds. Cold, tired, aching. Just how he felt.

He took a slow brisk flight to his house, feeling the wind bash his face and the air flow through his feathers. He gently placed a foot on the metal railing of his balcony, taking a deep step to the ground and opening the door.

The emptiness rung through his apartment like a blaring siren. You have everything. How can you still want more?

The voices in his head screamed and clawed their way out. You're nobody. No one ever loved you. You're so alone. You're nothing but a tool to the commission. You're actual character is useless.

He shed his coat, boots, and pants. Looking to himself in the mirror as he removed most of his feathers. He looked exhausted as he stumbled into the shower, numbly.

The next ten minutes seemed to elude him when he wondered how much time has gone by of him staring at the shower wall blankly.

He dried off a bit then looked around his kitchen for something to eat. Have I eaten today? The buzz and light of his phone on the counter startled him.

"Hey, Hawks." A single, simple message from (Y/L/N). Okay don't panic.

"What's up?" He replied swiftly.

"I had this feeling something was wrong and wanted to check up on you."

"Why would you think that?" He tried to play it off like it wasn't true without actually lying.

"I'm not sure. Do you maybe wanna join me?" You asked.

"Where?"

"Well, every once in awhile when I need a break I go and stargaze with a night picnic. It helps me relax, and if you think it might help I'd want to. I can tell something's off." You were always so convincing. It felt like you weren't too nosy or snoopy but you understood.

"Text me where to be and when?" He let out a gentle smile at his phone.

"The dollar store on 4th in 10 minutes? So we can choose some snacks together?"

"I'll be there."

Did Takami think any problems where going to be solved with some food in the dark? No. But would he skip the opportunity to be with you, to find out how he really felt when it was just you two? Absolutely not.

He landed down on the broken pavement outside of the old dollar store, scanning around to see you.

"Boo!" A bump from behind had him flinching to see the sound as you stood behind him giggling. "Got ya."

"Very funny (Y/L/N) the most amazing trick yet." He rolled his eyes with a slight smile.

"C'mon let's go grab a bunch of terrible snacks and call it a picnic, bird brain."

You two walked into the store and walked a large circle around it, choosing chips and candy and drinks at your leisure. Once you got to the counter, he fights you to his wallet.

"It's my picnic."

"And I'm the very special guest who was so generously invited. I'm paying." He grins as you pout at him.

Grabbing the bags you placed them in the back seat as you offered passenger side to him.

"I don't like cars."

"Why not?"

"Cramps my wings."

You look at him with the biggest puppy eyes you can manage. "You already agreed to keep me company and pay for the snacks, let me do something for you?"

"Fine, but only cause you're pouting kid."

He gently sits in your passenger seat as you strap yourself in and turn the car on. The car hums and the music playing softly on the radio are the only things heard. The peace feeling too good to break.

Once you pull your car up into the parking lot of a small park and grab your bags, you begin leading him to your usual place.

"Hold these." You hand him the bags as you jump and climb up on top of a big metal container. You peer over the side with big eyes and a smile as you say to him, "now hand me the bags and do what I did!"

He looks at you with a wide smirk before simply flying up to join you. "Or you can do it the cheater's way." You pouted and bumped his shoulder.

"It's not cheating, it's using my resources." He says with a triumphant smirk.

"Your cheating resources." You pull out your gummy candies and started eating as you leaned back till you were laying down.

"Do you like the stars, Hawks?" You say like your sleep talking, staring into the night sky.

"Keigo." He shifts to lay down about a foot away from you. "You can call me, Keigo. And... I don't think I've ever taken time to look at the stars."

"No sneaking out away from parents to sit on vans and stargaze? Or watching the sunrise with a partner while eating fast food?"

"What kinda date is sitting in a car for hours staring at the sky and eating?" He laughs.

"Ah one that never really happened, he just said he would. But never mind that repressed shit." A sad laugh forces itself out as you stare between the stars.

"Was he cute?" He tried to sound funny but it came out more sympathetic.

"Sometimes," you laugh with him. "But he had really nice hands."

"Hands? That's an odd thing to find attractive." He turned his head over to look at you as your eyes seemed to burn holes in the dark milky blue sky.

He continued laughing with you about this guy but couldn't help an overwhelming feeling of jealousy. Who was he? Did he look anything like him? Was this recent?

"Keigo?" A voice snapped at his train or thought, "Yes, (Y/L/N)?" He replied rushed.

"Do you want your mini cookies?" You ask looking to him with the bag.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks." He mentions grabbing the bag from your finger tips.

He ate his cookies and thought as you seemed either lost in your head, or lost in the stars.

Loving you would be selfish. As such a high ranking hero, he's made a target for himself and anyone around him. He's broken down, can't feel. You obviously have other people on your mind. Someone like you wouldn't be single long.

"When did he leave?" He blurts out without thinking. Maybe it's a sore subject-

"Long ago." You look lost, your eyes searching and wandering but never grabbing hold of exactly where you should be. "Why?" Well I guess if I'm gonna start prying might as well go all the way.

"He thought that maybe he could love me. But now that's just ridiculous," you laugh coldly. "Who would love me?"

"Falling in love with you seems like a really bad idea. But not on your part." He whispers into the wind, hoping it'll carry his words away from you.

"What do you mean?" You look completely confused, almost scattered.

"You're quiet, and I'm someone who puts a spotlight on practically anyone around me. You'd constantly be put in danger. Plus I'm arrogant and cocky, nothing at all like you." He acted like he could see the stars as you could. He stared into them finding any way he could to avoid your eyes.

"You could get hurt or I could annoy you." He whispers.

"I had no idea you felt that way, Keigo." You whisper back, shock keeping your voice quiet.

His eyes burned holes into the night sky, he felt he shouldn't look at you. The mental image of you already wouldn't go away.

"You wanna know something, Keigo? I can read people like books, I can read stars like stories, and I can read in-between lines like they were in bold font. But, you always catch me off guard. Reading you is like a mystery novel. Sometimes intense, sometimes peaceful, but always keeping me wondering." You smile into the stars, you can tell he desperately doesn't want to see your eyes. "You're always leaving everyone on the edge of their seat, and when you leave you can't stop thinking of the next time you'll come. What you'll bring."

"I....I don't think I understand (Y/L/N)-" Keigo's soon cut off.

"(Y/N)"

"Well, (Y/N)- I don't think I understand." He tries to sit up and look at you.

"You catch me off guard, something about you speaks to me in ways I know you never actually would. I can see it, the way you stumble or hesitate. I can tell somethings scared you into silence." You've never had much chance to talk about the ways you analyze people, you wanted to tell him how you could tell the way he acted wasn't always good.

"I think you might be reading too much into this, kid." He tries to intervene.

"I get if you don't want to tell me." You stared up at the stars, waiting for him to do the same. "You see there?" You pointed to a star. "That's a constellation."

"They just look like stars." He seemed a bit disappointed that he couldn't see stars the way you did, with such knowledge and wonder in your eyes.

"That's cause they are," you giggled to him, "it's not like I can actually see the pictures either."

"You.. you can't?" He looked to you confused but slightly hopeful, how could they look at them but not see too?

"That's the whole point, Keigo. It's being able to see what's not really there. Sometimes I stare into the sky hoping to see any semblance of hope, but that's not how it is. You have to teach yourself to look at what could be there." He stared to you, a small content smile graced your face. You were beautiful.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Maybe, loving you isn't such a bad idea.." he looked remorseful, staring into the stars. Maybe he could see it too one day.

"What do you mean?" You glace to him.

"You see so much, you can read and see the things I want to see. I want to learn, (Y/N). I want to see how you do."

The smile on your face spread.

"I'd love to show you."

[skullrock]

the confessions - Steve x Reader

gif by @harringtown

pairing: Steve x Reader

request: hey! can u write a fic where steve and reader go to a party and reader gets shitfaced but steve stays sober and she’s pretty much hitting on him the entire night cause the alcohol gave her courage, and when steve takes her home she’s like super handsy with him and saying sweet things to him (also saying suggestive themes things to him that makes him go 😳) and steve’s super sad cause he loves her and thinks it’s drunk talk. but its not!! so they talk about it the next day. thank you

warnings: swearin’ and angst! some suggestive content if ya squint

word count: 2k

===

Steve watched as you downed shot after shot, regret running through him with each glass of vodka. He brought you here to have fun - he didn’t anticipate having to babysit you. He knew you were stressed, but he didn’t know you were this stressed. As he watched you head for the punch bowl again, he went to intervene.

“Hey!” you sing, happy to see him. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for an awkward hug. “What’s up, buddy!”

“I think you need to go home,” he says, pulling away from you gently. His stomach flipped every time you touched him, but he wanted to swallow those feelings. You were his friend, after all. Nothing more and nothing less.

“Me?” you ask, pointing to yourself. “You think… I think you need to go home!”

“Okay,” he says smoothly. “Let’s go home together, what about that?”

You gasp and throw a hand up to your heart. “Why, Mister Harrington, are you inviting me to your house?”

Steve’s cheeks turn red, but he attempts to act unfazed. “No, I’m taking you to your house, okay?” He gently takes your cup from you and puts his arm around your waist to support you as he took you to his car.

The thing is, you had drank so much because you wanted to hit on him. You needed that extra courage to get you to actually make a move. Did you overdo it? Yes. Did the alcohol work? Also yes. Maybe it worked a little too well.

When you step outside, you pull Steve into you, pressing into his chest. “You look so good tonight, Stevie, you know that?”

Steve’s ears turn pink. “Since when do you call me that?” he asks, gently pushing you away from him.

“Do you like it?” you ask. “It’s cute, like you.”

“Okay,” Steve says, clearing his throat. “Um, thanks.”

“Do I look cute?” you ask, leaning on him heavily as he continues to guide you to his car.

“You always look cute.”

You gasp. “You mean it?”

Steve’s heart twists painfully. “Of course I mean it.”

As he sits you in the passenger seat and leans over to buckle you up, you wrap your fingers in his hair. Steve’s cheeks turn red-hot and he pulls back, a moan escaping his lips as your fingers tug in his hair. He takes your hands and takes a deep breath. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Vodka,” you smile, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Keep your hands to yourself during the ride, okay?” he jokes, and you pout.

“But what if I don’t want to keep them to myself?”

“Those are the rules of the ride,” Steve says, clicking his tongue sympathetically. “You have to follow them.”

“You’re such a dork,” you say, reaching out for him again, but he moves before your fingertips can touch him.

Steve shuts the door and shakes his head, mumbling, “Jesus Christ,” before climbing into the front seat. “You okay, Y/N?”

You nod and look over at him, sending a wink that sent a chill down his spine. Focus, Steve, he thinks to himself, white-knuckling the steering wheel as he starts for your house. Steve turns on the radio - Can’t Fight this Feeling comes on. The tension in the car while the song is playing can be cut with a knife. You sit and play with your skirt, slowly moving it up your thighs in an attempt to entice Steve. Steve sees in his peripheral, but keeps his eyes on the road in an attempt to not crash the car in a fit of passion.

Steve gets pulled into his own thoughts as he drives. He’s loved you for a while now - totally, completely loved you. Every day brought more adoration, and it was getting to be a bit painful. You’d never let on any signs that you were into him until tonight. The whole thing was confusing and heartbreaking. You probably thought he was someone else. Someone cooler, more charming, more handsome. You could never say this stuff to him sober, which solidified his theory that you weren’t into him at all.

He pulls into your driveway and climbs out, sighing as he heads over to your side. When he tries to help you out, you offer him your foot first.

“Wrong end,” he says.

“Oops!” You hand him your hand and he pulls you up, steadying you as you stumble into his chest again. You look up at him with big eyes. To you, they’re full of love; to him, they’re full of shit.

“How do we keep ending up like this?” you slur.

“Because you’re drunk,” Steve breathes, forcing himself not to lean down and kiss you.

“Maybe you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk, Y/N.”

“Oh.”

Steve laughs a bit and keeps guiding you to your door and into your bedroom. He sits you on your bed and starts going through your wardrobe to find you some pajamas. When he turns around, you’re up and naked, making Steve drop the clothes and cover his eyes.

“Uh - hey - what are you doing?”

“Changing,” you respond, walking over to where he dropped the clothes. You pick them up and start putting them on, allowing Steve to relax.

“Don’t be such a prude, Steve,” you say, shrugging on your sweater. “It’s not like you’ve never seen a naked girl before.”

“But you’re my friend,” Steve says. “That’s not the same.”

“What if I don’t want to be friends?”

Steve’s hand drops to his side, revealing a fully clothed you. Your eyes look serious, and you look shy. Steve’s brows furrow. “You know who I am, right?”

“I know who you are, Steve.”

Steve’s stuck. He’s not sure if you’re just shitting him or if you’re serious. It’s hard to tell when you’re slurring and hunched over like Quasimodo, hardly able to walk. He bites his lip and your eyes train on how perfect he is, how beautiful he looks as the moon comes through your window. He takes a step towards you, and you think that maybe he’s going to embrace you like the lovers do in movies. But instead, he guides you to the bed, tucking you under the covers.

“I’m going to get you some water and pain pills, okay?” he says. “You’re going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.” You’re probably going to forget all of this, too, he thinks.

You nod and he gets water and medicine from your kitchen, bringing it back to you quietly. He sits it on the nightstand. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Come here,” you beckon, sitting up out of the carefully tucked sheets. Steve blinks as you undo his gentle tucking, but he sits down beside you. You grab his hand and look at it carefully, closely. Then you grab the other one.

“You reading my fortune, or something?” Steve jokes, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

“You have nice hands,” you mumble. You look up at his face and run a hand gently down one of his cheeks. “You have a pretty face, too.”

Steve decides to indulge himself, just a bit. “What else do I have?”

“You have nice arms,” you continue, running your hands up them, feeling Steve’s flesh become riddled with goosebumps. “So strong and toned.” You move your hands to his chest. “Nice broad chest. Nice shoulders.”

Steve shifts nervously, swallowing hard as your hands ghost down his shirt, going dangerously close to his belt. Your hands take a detour to his sides, though, gripping his hips gently. “Such nice hips, too.”

“Hips?” he laughs. “Is that something girls look for?”

“They just fit you so perfectly,” you say quietly. Your hands then move to his thighs and you lick your lips. “Your thighs are nice too, Steve.” You squeeze them and smile. “So is your ass.”

Steve blushes but rolls his eyes. “My ass is not nice.”

You shrug, bringing your hands up to his shoulders to rest. “I like it.”

He swallows again. “Do you like anything else?”

“I like your laugh. It’s always so pretty,” you whisper. “It makes me happy. So does your smile. And your eyes are always so warm, even when you’re mad.”

Steve realizes how closely you both are leaning in, so he pulls back slightly. “You’re full of compliments when you’re drunk, huh?”

You frown, letting your hands fall into your lap. “Guess I am.”

Steve clears his throat. “I guess - while we’re on the subject - I should tell you that I think you’re very pretty.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he says with a slight shrug. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Prettier than Nancy?”

Steve feels the sadness envelop him, crashing over him like a wave. To be sitting in front of a person so beautiful while being reminded of his shit luck - it’s a lot to handle. But he forces out, “Prettier than Nancy.”

You seem pleased, laying down again and beckoning him to cover you. Steve’s throat feels wickedly painful, and he pushes his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop himself from crying. He ruffles your hair and whispers, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Won’t you stay?”

Steve laughs a bit. “I have work in the morning.”

“With Keith?”

“Yeah, with Keith.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah, pretty gross,” he agrees. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Tomorrow,” you repeat, and you fall asleep soon after, leaving Steve with his thoughts as he heads to his car.

===

Tomorrow comes, and you’re painfully aware of how much you had to drink last night. You groan and sit up to find the painkillers and water Steve had left.

“Oh, thank God,” you whisper, taking them swiftly and laying back down. You hug one of your pillows and attempt to go back to sleep before last night comes back to you at lightning speed. How much you drank so that you’d have the courage to talk to him; how you put your hands in his hair; how you kept touching him; how you undressed right in front of him; and then everything you said. Embarrassment grips you tightly, making you groan and bury your head in your pillow. You hop up quickly, though, staggering to the phone and phonebook.

===

Steve stops stacking tapes to get the phone, droning out, “Thanks for calling Family Video, this is Steve, how can I help you?”

“Steve!”

Steve gasps and almost drops the phone. “Y/N?” he hisses. “What - are you okay?”

“I gotta talk to you about last night,” you say. “Can we talk?”

Steve looks around for Keith. “I’m - I’m at work.”

“I have to tell you something and it can’t wait.”

Steve looks around again and sighs, taking the phone with him into the break room and shutting the door on the cable. “Okay, what’s up?”

“Last night, I got super shitfaced.”

“I’m aware.”

“Well, I got so drunk because I wanted to talk to you - like, tell you how I feel -”

Steve’s breath hitches and his heart speeds up. “About what?”

You take a deep breath. It’s now or never. “Steve, I love you.”

Steve almost drops the phone again.

“Bullshit,” he breathes. “You can’t -”

“I do, Steve,” you say. “I love you, and I know I do.”

There’s a quick, loud knock on the door. “Uh, what’s going on in there?”

Steve jerks the door open, holding the phone tightly to his chest. “Keith, I swear to Christ, if you ruin this moment for me, I’m going to shove a VHS right up your -”

“Steve!” you gasp on the phone.

Steve slams the door shut again and puts the phone up to his ear. “You’re not gonna believe this, but I love you, too.”

You beam brightly. “You mean it?”

“I never thought you’d say that to me,” Steve says softly. “But I’ve loved you for so long.”

“I’ve loved you for a long time, too.”

Steve smiles brightly, feeling like a new man as happiness replaces the sadness and emptiness in his chest.

Keith knocks on the door again. “Harrington, you better get out here -”

“Shut up, Keith!” Steve shouts. “I guess I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Come over after work, will you?”

“I will,” Steve promises. “God, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

===

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