#every time i try to say something short it winds up in paragraphs. why. this was not supposed to be so long

[astraldraco]

for some reason it only just now hit me that I don't have to make some big finished thing in order to tell all the little stories I have rolling around in my head, I can just write a description of them and come back later if I want to make a big thing with them. there's nothing stopping me

sometimes you just need a reminder that oh yeah, there are no rules in art and you can do and share whatever you want forever

so! doodles and blurbs about the many little characters and narratives hanging out in my brain hopefully will be happening! assuming I remember and everything :DD

[raccoon-in-a-dumpster]

I am in the editing stage for The Big Breakdown Of The 33 Paragraph Essay Ask, but here's the short version:

I think they mostly wanted to try to explain their stance one more time. This is my best attempt at a short breakdown, without bias. The only reason I’m trying to keep my bias out is because I think it’s better to try to extract the core of the essay in the purest essence possible when trying to explain someone else’s point. Ik I’ve said some variation of that already but I want to say it again.

The main points are:

An attempt to reiterate what they believe ‘proship’ means, and why they think your version is…lacking?? Illogical?? Secret Third (But Similar) Option? Or just straight-up wrong. Somewhere in there.

An attempt to convey that they understand why you won’t believe them. 

I gotta say tho, the way they actually went into that (further than just an ‘I Get It’) being so close to how I put earlier it is. Unsettling. As I’m typing this out, I don’t honestly remember if I got to that point in the Thirty-Three Theses* yet when I said something about it. If yes, it was probably just fresh in my brain. Either way every time i read it again I feel like someone i don’t know just briefly glanced through the mirror at me.

Their third point is basically “I’m afraid that if it’s okay to harass pedophiles, then queer people will be harassed under the pretense of us all being pedophiles just because homophobic/transphobic/etc dickheads want us to leave. So that’s why I’ve decided I’m Proship.” with a very dramatic lead-up that implies concern for you, + a moment of ‘btw I don’t support that stuff myself. For the record.’

There is a reminder of that one time an anon accused you of pedophilia. I do, actually, remember that, because I remember wondering if the anon just heard that you were trans and suddenly saw red. I couldn’t think of any other reason to call a minor a pedophile, unless they just wanted to upset you for no reason? Idk. anyways.

There is also expressed concern for people who aren’t necessarily queer, but people who are writing about pedophilic/incestuous relationships who either don’t know any better, are trying to deal with their own trauma through writing, or adults who aren’t writing anything like that but it’s For or About kids and People Will Call It’s Sus.

Still, their main concern seems to be queer people. 

Long-winded explanation of why they won’t come off anon, which boils down to ‘i am not going to get harassed because i do not need that damage to my mental health’

I don’t know why they worded the last few blocks like a mysterious warning. I think it and the war drums comment are probably because they got weirdly dramatic and self-righteous about it? Idk. Either way they’re expressing concern for you (whether real or fabricated, who knows), with the implication that they think you’re being used/manipulated. Or that they think you could easily be used/manipulated? One of the two.

I have no idea if any of this is performative, or if it’s entirely sincere. The last bit is kind of insulting to you, even if it’s indirect. But what I’m hearing there is “you are voting for the Face-Eating Leopards Party, who promise to only eat the faces of Bad People, but you don’t realize that they can and will easily pin the ‘Bad People’ label on you and your demographic.”

Also, regarding their definition of proship: It’s less about what you ship and how you treat other people for shipping things, whether you like the ship or not.

So by their definition, even if someone did ship something like, idk, Dreammare (most common icky ship that I hear of), they’re not necessarily proship. If they believe that people shouldn’t be harassed over what they ship, and also stick to that and aren’t a fucking hypocrite, then they’re proship. Whether or not the ship in question is pedophilic, abusive, toxic, pretty average, or pure wholesome fluff has no bearing on it. 

I go more into that in the Big Breakdown.

I'm going to have to go places in a moment or two, but when I get back I should be able to finish my editing.

...At least, in the google doc. I'm debating whether tumblr would have better formatting and if I should make it a tumblr post instead of sending a link to the google doc, but if I did then I'd have to fuck with the images, and change some of the OTHER formatting because tumblr doesn't do underline for non-links.......

Either way, send me a message or something if you decide you want to see the whole thing. We're at 7525 words, which includes the essay from Proship Anon themself. most of it's me though

My “Thirty-Three Theses” comment is a reference to the Ninety-Five Theses that made Protestantism a thing. I only reference it because that’s a lot of fucking theses, and they were nailed to the door of the church that the author was bitching about and I think that’s funny. Otherwise it’s entirely irrelevant. I just wanted to share the joke.

7525 WORDS??? JEESSUS CHRIST MAN

but yeah the whole "anon calling me a tranny pedophile" was actually cause they were originally harassing my older brother for being a "tranny pedophile" (they did call BOTH of us trannies so.) despite the fact we're both minors, and also "what're you doing at the devil's sacrament" shit of "see you on Einstein's (epstien's) island"

but like... jesus. you're doing god's work ong.

and like. honestly. i do not give a shit about what someone draws/writes to cope with stuff, that's not my business, yk? my stance on that is that you. should not post it online. keep it between you and your therapist or whatever

[gettingfrilly]

Hello, sorry if this is random but I was wondering if you could give some advice for writing fanfics? I’m pretty new to writing them, and feel very unconfident about my writing skills.

oh gosh, im flattered you think im a good person to go to for advice with this. I'll do my best to say something helpful.

General writing tips:

Read! and not just fanfics. it's the second best way to improve your craft overall.

Write! this is the number one best way to improve your writing. practice practice practice, even if you're not going to upload it anywhere. even just sitting down to write a few paragraphs of whatever comes to mind is good practice.

Be intentional in your writing. Why did you have that character say that? why did you use that adjective as opposed to another? why did you structure that sentence in that manner? what are you trying to get across to your reader with your choices? Think of yourself as controlling a spotlight for a play that the reader's eyes and thoughts have to follow along with.

use a mix of simple, compound, and complex sentences. too many simple sentences makes your prose choppy, but too many compound and complex sentences makes it hard to keep track of what's going on. think of simple sentences as giving the reader's brain a break. simple sentences can also be used for dramatic impact or to draw attention to something important, especially if you put it in the middle of or right after a long winded sentence or group of sentences.

Show AND tell, and be intentional about why you're doing one over the other for a particular scene. Showing is better for imagery and making a scene vivid or dramatic, telling helps you tighten up the pace of a story. it's not too dissimilar from why you should use a mix of simple, compound, and complex sentences.

motivation motivation motivation. What motivates your characters? why are they saying what they're saying and doing what they're doing? Keep those motivations consistent, and their methods of obtaining what they want consistent, or at the very least changing in a way that makes sense for their character growth.

Read it out loud. Reading what you write out loud to yourself is a great way to notice not just spelling and grammatical errors, but where your writing flows well and where it doesn't.

Fanfic tips:

Stay familiar with the source material. rewatch, reread, replay. pay close attention to how everyone's characterized, and refer back to those canon characterizations in your writing. If your characters are in an AU or aged up or down, make sure their characterization still makes sense when you take the source material into consideration.

that being said, don't be afraid to take some artistic license! fanfics exist to give fans something other than the source material to chew on. showing how their characterization would change in different circumstances and settings is part of the fun.

practice mindfulness and self affirmations, i am dead serious. putting something you crafted out into the world is so super vulnerable. be aware of any feelings this brings up, don't judge yourself for having those feelings, and then practice letting those feelings go. remind yourself that no matter what your skill level, every single time you write something, you are still practicing and learning new things. this is true of every writer ever. also i supes promise that if you post something no one ends up engaging with, you will still live to write another day. remember, a human being can survive anything short of being flattened by a steam roller.

that's all i got! would appreciate people adding onto this as sometimes i am but a potato smacking itself against a keyboard. again im super flattered you'd come to me for advice, ty for your interest in my writing <3

[alittlebitofwonk]

A short list of ways to instantly improve your writing, from someone with a degree in writing. (Also this list is partly a reminder for me lol).

Also, some of these are beginner tips and some are more advanced, take them as you want!

Number one tip I can give you, every time— PROPER SPACING AND PARAGRAPH BREAKS. Purdue Owl is my go-to resource for formatting details, but the basics are this: break a paragraph at any new event, at scenery changes, or, and this is the most important, when a new character begins speaking in dialogue. Also, when dialogue is three words or longer, it should come at the end or beginning of a paragraph. Don’t sandwich it. Keeping your paragraphs broken and not creating text walls will immediately help retain readership.

Show, don’t tell. I’m guilty of this too, tbh. But here’s an example— instead of saying “the apple was crunchy” say “as they bit into the apple, it crunched beneath their teeth.” Pair a description with an action! Instead of “it was cold out” say “he shivered as the wind hit, tucking his hands deep in his pockets.” Also helps boost word count.

It’s okay to end your sentences. I’m guilty of this one a TON— instead of starting a new sentence, I’ll do a comma or semicolon or em-dash, and it’ll just… keep… going. It’s okay to break those sentences up completely with a period. I promise.

Don’t over describe. Some description is great, and helps your reader build a better image of what you’ve written. But too much is boring, and doesn’t give the reader the space they need to put the picture together in a way that is meaningful to THEM. Your reader is just as important as you are. Have some faith in them!

Take inspiration. As fanfic authors we do this with media all the time, but take inspiration from more than just your fandom— find it in other fandoms, find it in your own struggles, find it in the world around you. It’s there for the taking.

Practice! Practice writing when you can, and practice reading, too. You can only get better, I promise. I’ve come a long way with practicing my own writing and learning from others.

If you read deeper than the surface, you’ll write deeper than the surface. Be mindful of the content you consume, and what goes into it. Think about the Hunger Games, for example. Yes, it’s a book about dystopian America, but it’s also a heavy criticism of consumerism, the entertainment industry, and the lack of value we assign to our children.

And the antithesis, too— sometimes a blue curtain is just a blue curtain. Not every detail you put down needs to have some deeper meaning. Sometimes a character just has white hair because it’s cool— not because they’re stressed or a chosen one or something.

Finally— all the rules can and should be broken. Yes, even the paragraph breaks. Break the conventions as you please, so long as you’re mindful and intentional about it. If you aren’t breaking up dialogue breaks, why aren’t you? Is it because you forgot, or are you trying to make the dialogue frantic, trying to convey how difficult the conversation is to keep track of?

Anyway, that’s all I have right now, but my inbox is always open for more tips! Also, here’s some links to reference texts I particularly like that aren’t super dense. I’m particular fond of these two because you can jump between sections to find what you want rather than having to read the whole text. (Don’t read On Writing Well. It will come up as a recommendation with these two. It sucks. The author spends far too much of his time talking about the fact that he went to Yale.)

[ripeteeth]

10 lines tagging game

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway!

Thanks for the tag, @likelightinglass!!! Like yourself, I'm doing first paragraphs instead. I've been struggling with writers' block over the last couple of years, so many of these are short or are wips (as noted).

zoetrope (mdzs, songxuexiao, 10k)

This is how it goes. I’ve been trying to tell you something. I’ve been trying to tell you something for a very long time.

blood, bones, and butter (mdzs, songxuexiao, 12k)

The day he meets them is a red-sky day. Of course, everyone knows the old saying: red sky at morning, sailors take warning, but Xue Yang isn’t a fucking sailor, so why would he fucking care? 

Revachol Calling (disco elysium, harrykim, 35k wip)

Spring is pale in Revachol. The May bells bloom first, then the daffodils, then the tulips, then the cherry blossoms. But the May bells always bloom first, promising warmth again. Spring is coming, they seem to say. Spring will be here soon, in showers of white and gold. It is nearly May. The winds blow thick with petals, like a late snow.

long slow love song (tgcf, fengqing, 3k wip)

The walk home is lonely. He locks his office door, and the halls are already empty, save for the sound of a vacuum somewhere and the effervescent buzz of industrial fluorescent lighting. His shoulder has a perpetual sag in it from the weight of his bag, and there are lines beneath his eyes that no amount of sleep ever seems to touch. 

impact (beyond evil, jwds, 2k)

He wonders how he’ll die. Some people can open a car door and buckle up without giving any thought to the way the chassis around them would twist on impact, the way the gear shaft might puncture through skin and sinew, and leave safety glass in a shattered constellation on asphalt. Juwon is not one of those people. He never enters a car without thinking about how he might exit from it, just as he always touches the outside of an airplane, just in case. 

shotgunning (kinnporsche, vegas/kinn/porsche, 1.2k wip)

When Kinn had been a boy, he’d had an old tomcat that liked to sleep in his bed. The cat had the run of things, coming and going as he pleased, crawling in through an open window as the desire struck him. Missing a part of his left ear and a patch of fur on his neck, he’d taken to Kinn for some unknown reason, coming to curl up at his feet, or on his pillow. He brought gifts to Kinn: dead birds and dead mice, dropped between his sheets. One morning, Kinn woke to pawprints in red, like a greeting card scrawled across his face. Hello, the red smear on his cheek seemed to say. I missed you. 

june hymn (ofmd, gentlebeard, 3k)

The room is large. A fine bed in the center, raised upon a dais, and windows on each side like attendants. Gentle air spills through the window sashes, bringing summer and birdsong. The dusk half-light casts long arms over the room, draping itself across the duvet like an impatient lover might. The birds sing evensong; Edward has forgotten how to listen.

Asterius (greek myth, theseus/asterius, 25k wip)

They say I am my mother’s fault.  Pah. What do they know? (They’re right.) 

A beetle skitters in the dark. I stamp my foot on it, feeling the carapace crunch between my toes and spit on my hand to wipe it off. My stomach growls and I look at the thing, thinking about eating it, but a beetle against an ocean of hunger seems pointless. I scrape it off and throw it in the corner. The rest run. 

bellyache (ofmd, steddyhands, 3k)

His mother had told him that he should keep his softness safe. The vulnerable underbelly of himself, kept safe for those he loves. She had kissed him on his red right cheek, just as she did every night when she tucked him into bed.

hapax legomenon (2ha, ranwan, 2k)

It begins on a sunny day, in the wide middle of a broad street. A crowded street is so busy as to be meaningless, and he is not paying attention. The heavy sack of groceries cuts into the meat of his shoulder, bruising his skin as surely as the plums in the bottom of the bag. He has not forgotten the milk. He has not forgotten the bread. Chu Wanning has gotten everything on his list, and he crosses each line item off with a black pen, feeling the bone-deep satisfaction of a completed task. A woman lifts her child onto her left hip. A man buys a bun from a streetcart. A train comes, and it goes. 

Tagging: @mia-ugly, @soft-october-night, @iodhadh, @itsevidentvery, @jouissants, @wildcard47, @reserve, @et-in-arkadia, @areyougonnabe, @perverse-idyll, @danpuff-ao3, @flanneryoconnorfanfiction, @weatheredlaw, @racketghost, @robotmango, @rcmclachlan, @pearwaldorf, @longstoryshortikilledhim, @veganthranduil, and anyone else who wishes!

[itsevanffs]

Hihi!! I've been hyperfixating on tommary lately and I absolutely loved (In the dark!)! I wanted to see if u have any tommary/harrymort fics that u recommend.. preferably ones that feature a possessive Tom ^^ ty in advance

I guess this would be the right time to publicly declare my bookmarks as open? Everything on there is a hard rec, and I vigorously quality-check those... for my liking and my liking only. (Sorry, not sorry. They're there for me, after all.)

That being said, hmm. I've got a few you might like.

Below the cut: more (additionally to my bookmarks) Tomarrymort (Tomarry or Harrymort) recommendations with possessive/obsessive Tom in alphabetical order; NOT order of how much I enjoy them. I'd argue I enjoy them all equally, just in different ways.

Ps: thank you! I'm incredibly flattered you liked my work :D

and don't let the police know anything by littlecupkate https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920947

Ted Dirlod is dangerous, Harry Potter knows this for a fact, but the man was still his only hope at escaping a doomed fate. It is never wise to blackmail a crime lord. It is even more unwise(?) when said crime lord is obsessed with you. An expanded version of "praying to whatever's in heaven, please send me a felon"

Genuinely lovely? Ticks all my boxes, at least, and minimal angst, which is always a plus. That being said, you should probably read the work mentioned in the summary as well for context. But hey. Two cakes by one person ;) Can never go wrong, can it?

As Certain Dark Things Are to be Loved by Strange_Soulmates https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015619

Tom was Harry's best friend growing up and his first love. At eight, Harry gave Tom his first kiss before moving away. As a freshman in college, the name of the RA on the door across the hall is terribly familiar.

Also absolutely deliciously indulgent. Tom is a possessive terror and Harry loves him for it. Need I say more?

Harry Potter and the Search for Ancient Magic (series) by Snickerdoodlepop https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133141

Once Voldemort realizes that Harry Potter is his horcrux, his plans change drastically. So does Draco Malfoy's assignment for the school year. Harry's sixth year starts going very differently. Snape is on a mission. Harry needs to learn pureblood politics. Draco Malfoy is trying to convince Harry to forgive him. Voldemort finds himself visiting Harry Potter in his dreams. Everyone is realizing that no one is quite what they thought. And through it all, there's a mystery. What is Ancient Magic? Can Harry use it to save himself or will it pull him toward the dark side?

Honestly, genuinely, hands down the best fucking tomarrymort series I've ever read. Hard, hard rec from here. The first work is completed and the second is in progress, so it's a nice pile of words to chew through!

can't commit to anything but a crime by caelesti https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286483

Excitement is the word he does not dare utter, even in the privacy of his own mind. It’s wrong, he knows. These women are people, in their own right; people with fears and aspirations, with friends and families and dreams, and to have anything cut those lives short is nothing but tragic. To have anyone cut those lives short is nothing but condemnable. He doesn’t have James Potter’s laugh lines, but he does have his father’s innate flair for danger. He doesn’t have Lily Potter’s enthusiasm, but he does have her insatiable curiosity. (In every world, Harry will excel at finding the biggest spot of trouble available and sticking his nose in it.)

Hot serial killer serial killer hot. That's it, those are the thoughts. Please read.

Dripping Fingers by May_May_0_0 https://archiveofourown.org/works/25440826

When Harry finds Tom Riddle's diary he does not write 'Hello.' He does not write anything at all. He draws. Tom Riddle falls in love with the artwork. _________________ Sketch by sketch, drawing by drawing, the ink Harry pours into the diary manifests as creations in Tom's monochrome world.

Okay so if I'm the reincarnation of Shakespeare, May_May_0_0 is fucking... Ted Hughes. Which doesn't say much to your average viewer but that man wrote my favourite poem ever (the one I based my war fic off) and I hold him in very high regard. This story? It is poetry in its rawest form. Pure, condensed beauty. If you decide to read only one of the fics in this list, please choose this one.

Either must die at the hand of the other by Metalomagnetic https://archiveofourown.org/works/29356095

Voldemort survives the Battle of Hogwarts because Harry Potter had not been the one to kill him, as the prophecy demands.

When is Metalomagnetic not a master of words? When will I cease becoming breathless at every paragraph, at every cleverly twisted word that comes back and reveals itself so beautifully later?

Fine Line by galaxiesundone https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949952

Magic always leaves traces. The lingering darkness of Sectumsempra, combined with Harry’s nature as a horcrux, awakens the soul piece contained within Ravenclaw’s diadem. At twenty years old, Tom Riddle walks a fine line between man and monster, the devil and the light-bringer in one. His influence forces Harry to face an ancient enemy unlike anything he has faced before: temptation.

Long story short: Tom Riddle is Hot and Good At Being Hot and Harry truly doesn't stand a chance and I am here for it. Lord help me I love this fic to pieces.

Good Intentions by Strange_Soulmates https://archiveofourown.org/works/7035334

Five year old Harry Potter meets and befriends a seventeen year old Tom Riddle while hanging out at his dad’s station. James Potter decides to take Tom under his wing, using Tom’s connection with Harry to try and keep the teen grounded, even as he begins to investigate the Death Eaters, a dangerous organized crime group and their mysterious leader only known as Lord Voldemort.

The sheer potential of this fic. The horrible, terrible dread of future events that have yet to be revealed. I will cry.

Honey, Smoke, Shiver by machiavelli https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068062

Harry - Omega, only son of Lord Potter - is nothing more than a useful playing card in a political game of power and money, one that is bought by the famed Tom Riddle: powerful, dangerous, pureblood Alpha. Unsurprisingly, Harry loves being underestimated.

Machiavelli is always a rec from me. Sorry lads but that's the way it is. Never a moment where I won't recommend their stuff.

Sickly-Sweet Obsession by maquira https://archiveofourown.org/works/18259103

Quiet, studious Tom Riddle spends his first year thirsting after an older student—Gryffindor’s Quidditch Captain, Harry Potter. His crush is common knowledge, and even Harry finds it cute… at first. Possessiveness spawns monstrosities. Tom does all within his power to mess with Harry’s dating life. And one seemingly harmless crush spirals into something darker, begetting deadly consequences.

Again; the potential. Delicious. This will bloom into something beautifully twisted, I'm sure of it.

Stars, Hide Your Fires by Audair https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745546

Riddle’s undivided attention snapped to him with the swiftness of shattering glass. His turbulent magic receded from where it had besieged the shop. "You,” he breathed. Coiling in leisurely motions, the eager tendrils of his magic reached for Harry, swathing about his limbs and neck and chest with a liquid, flowing fascination. "I’ve been looking for you,” Riddle continued, tilting his head to the side and sweeping his gaze over Harry. It was an appraisal that felt simultaneously like the raking of iron nails and the tender drapery of silk. It was so familiar, and yet… so foreign. In the winding streets of Knockturn Alley, an intricate dance of mutual obsession unravels between twenty-three-year-old Tom Riddle and a time-travelling Harry Potter.

This work has recently been undergoing a rewrite, and I can tell you with certainty it's only gotten better for it. It's beautiful; the setting, the atmosphere, the vibes... Perfection. Captures Knockturn Alley's mood impeccably and does not disappoint a single moment.

the pleasure, the privilege by asterisms https://archiveofourown.org/works/21227528

It begins with Vernon Dursley's body, dead across the table. In which Voldemort is dosed with amortentia, and nothing is better for it.

Completed, terrifying... and gorgeous.

The Shrike (to your sharp and glorious thorn) by PaperWorlds https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380079

Shrike: A songbird with a sharply hooked bill, known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling their bodies on thorns, the spikes on barbed-wire fences, or any available sharp point. A young Harry Potter survives an attack by notorious serial killer Voldemort. Over a decade later, they meet again.

Lads I'm so desperate for an update from this fic that I might cry if I think about it for too long. I keep saying it and I'll say it again; this is one of those fics with amazing potential that are sure to never disappoint no matter what path they take. An incredibly hard rec.

To Raise a Servant by bluegrass https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780816

Tom had found the boy amidst pouring rain. He figured he'd always wanted a pet snake.

Surprisingly not quite as dark as the summary makes it seem? I certainly enjoyed it, though, and that's why it's on this list.

What He Grows To Be by Severus_divides_into_H https://archiveofourown.org/works/19042240

Tom Riddle is a frightening coil of darkness, cruelty, and greatness, and changing him is Harry’s only hope for saving people he loves. Going back in time, he takes Tom from the orphanage, but his optimism shatters with every year they spend together. Tom still longs for darkness. Tom stifles him in his possessiveness. Tom is fixated on him to the point of destroying the world just to keep him. But Harry loves him. And the future changes.

Beautiful. And absolutely terrifying. I've started crying mid-scene at least three times for this fic, and it honestly seems unfathomable if you haven't read it if you're on my profile, since I think this is one of the fics that have shaped my style and ambitions. It is what I aspire to be.

[sister-dear]

Sentence Structure and Flow

Someone on discord asked me about how I structure sentences and how I learned to write. I’m going to do my best to answer! Hopefully it’s useful. It got long, so I made it a Tumblr post.

On learning to write:

Sky_squido, the author of “What Hyrule Hadn’t Seen” made this presentation and there were several points in it that I found incredibly helpful.

The two main ideas that I found most beneficial:

It’s about the ~vibes. Every story or scene has some kind of overall theme or emotion. Once you’re far enough into your story to have found what that is, edit your word choice to match. If a word technically works but doesn’t fit the mood, replace it with something else. The actual definition of a word is sometimes less important than the emotion that word conveys.

Verbs are incredibly important. If you’re having trouble with your sentence structure - if your story seems boring or like the prose drags - look at your verbs. I tend to use “is” as a verb far too often (or “was” for those of you who write past tense), so a lot of my editing comes down to reworking some sentences to make the stronger, more interesting words be the action words. So instead of “Legend was walking,” the sentence would be “Legend walked.” Or, even better, “Legend strolled/stalked/slouched along.” We’ve gone from a passive sentence to something that tells us, in engaging fashion, not just what Legend’s doing but how he’s doing it and maybe even a little about how he’s feeling.

Filter Words

Another post I found incredibly helpful: examples of how to cut out ‘filter words.’ It’s great for adding urgency, establishing tone, and introducing strong descriptions into your writing. Basically, this is how to put ‘show, don’t tell,’ into practice at a sentence-structure level. I use this approach a lot when it comes to conveying character emotion.

A couple other points

Variation is your friend.

Repeating things draws attention.

Description slows things down.

1. Variation is your friend.

For most writing, it’s a good idea to vary your sentence structure and length. Dialogue with no tags is rapid. Same with short sentences. Short and choppy reads disjointed and fast. This also applies to paragraph lengths! Longer sentences and paragraphs read slower, and in turn cause your reader to linger; sometimes maybe even linger too much. A combination keeps things interesting.

Too many long sections in a row - be they sentences or paragraphs - causes reader fatigue. Don’t be afraid to break those up. Let your readers take a breather.

If all your sentences start the same way, rework some of them. Lead with the action in one sentence and the subject in the next.

Starting a new paragraph gets a reader’s attention. You can use this for punch.

You should have one topic, or one person speaking, per paragraph.

Important things go at the start of the paragraph. Readers won’t tend to remember as much stuff from the middle or ends. Speed readers might not read those sections at all. The above note about one topic per paragraph? This is why.

2. Repeating things draws attention.

This applies to everything from individual words to overall themes to something like a series of sentences all with the same structure. It can work for you or against you.

A lot of my editing winds up being me reworking sentences to avoid using the same word too closely in succession. I’m not talking basic words here, like ‘he’ and ‘said.’ Those are non-words. If you have enough strong words around them, they disappear. They’re fine. But to use a snippet from a current work in progress:

...(Legend) bares his teeth, river water dripping off his hair and sticking his tunic to his legs. He braces his legs, wet muck squelching over the sides of his boots.

I wound up changing to “sticking his tunic to his thighs” to avoid the repeated word “legs.” I didn’t want to draw attention to his legs themselves, but the state of them. “He braces his feet,” would also work, or I could just cut the sentence down. “He braces,” does the trick just as well, and might be what I go with for the final draft. If the sentence makes sense without the word, then you can let the unneeded word go and your writing will often be stronger for it.

This can be much harder to do with nouns than verbs. Sometimes you just need to call a sword a sword. That’s usually where I start to alternate between a small group of words. “Sword,” “blade,” and “weapon” can all be alternated between to try to avoid using the same word too close together. You might also be able to get around using the problem word at all, as in the example above.

Another note on non-words. Names and pronouns qualify! You can use them over and over again and readers won’t notice. In fact, trying not to use these words can actually draw more attention than just using them!

For example, referring to Hyrule as “the Traveler.” Is it relevant, in the context of what I am writing, that Hyrule travels a lot? Or am I just trying to avoid using his name too much? If the answer is the latter, either don’t bother or change your sentence structure to remove the name entirely. If you have a solid action word, the name will disappear in favor of the action.

Using ‘Traveler’ in this context draws attention away from whatever Hyrule’s doing to what he is. That may not be the best thing to draw attention to. If what you are writing is a story about Hyrule finally getting a safe place of his own to call a home, you could use it for contrast. In which case, save it. Use it once, so it has impact. But if I'm writing about Hyrule teasing Legend, referring to him in that way can disrupt the flow of the story. It draws attention away from Hyrule's personality and his interaction with Legend to his background.

The point is to do it deliberately! It’s okay to use names and pronouns a lot. ‘Traveller’ is a title. Titles stand out.

3. Description slows things down.

Anywhere you want to linger or draw attention is where your descriptions should be going.

The middle of a fast paced action scene where your character is concentrating on the fight might not be the best spot to go into deep detail about the surroundings or what the enemy looks like. Convey those details in bursts that are worked into the action: “Time nearly rolls his ankle on the rocky ground.” Be very sparing. What makes an action scene interesting is how the character feels about what’s happening. You only need enough information on what the surroundings look like for a reader to follow along, and you can probably do most of that setup in a brief paragraph before the actual action starts.

On the other hand, if your character takes a shocking injury in said fight and you really want to dwell on that moment? Or if they’ve got a really cool, flashy move that they unleash in one single exciting burst of fighting prowess? That’s the spot to let your inner poet shine. Slow those spots down and let the reader really enjoy what you’re doing by using your detailed descriptions there.

This applies to all action, not just fighting. Walking through a busy marketplace? Action. A conversation? Can be approached as action. The best spots to use lots of description will be the spots you want to linger on: the first glimpse of a long-lost friend through the crowd, that last hug as they say goodbye.

Description slows things down. Use it accordingly.

Most everything else I can think of is less to do with flow and structure and more to do with other aspects of writing, so I'll stop here.

[elfwoodfae]

“Complications”

Summary: After finding out by accident Dr.Wells’ secret, your relationship with him gets complicated as he doesn’t let anyone else close to you while you work a project for him.

Author‘s note: please if you are a minor don’t read. This piece contains smut. Do not read if you are under 18. This is the first piece of smut I write and publish, please be kind but criticism is always welcome. Feel free to reblog if you like, just don’t claim as your own please. Also tumblr is being weird and not letting me edit the space in between paragraphs better so sorry for that. Credits for the gif to the owner, I found it on Google and just cropped it.

Warning: Smut.

It had been an accident really. How you found out about his secret. A simple error in his calculations. It was a Wednesday night, the whole team had left by then, or at least he thought they had. He hasn’t counted on you coming back for something and as quiet as you were, it was no surprise when you caught him opening the time vault to come out of there, walking non the less.

There you stood, mouth opening and closing like a little fish, he hasn’t see you yet, but as fate had it the tool you were holding fell to the floor, making a loud noise. Turning his head around at a speed that had to for sure had given him a wishsplash he stared at you. Tilting his neck a little he moved in your direction with the beginning of a smirk forming in his lips. He wasn’t worried. He would get rid off you if he needed to keep his secret safe. Once he was in front of you you finally reacted, closed your mouth only to open it a second later.

“Why?” Was the only word that came out of your mouth. You couldn’t understand why would he lie. He raised an eyebrow as he approached you even more.

“You will need to specify a little more in your question y/n, why what?” It was easy to see he was thinking what to do with you after you had found out about him.

“Why would you lie about being able to walk Dr.Wells? And why were you coming out of that room in the wall? Do the others know about that room? What are you hiding?”

“I said specify, not add three more questions y/n, but to answer you, I lied because is in my convenience for the rest of the team to believe I’m, and that room in the wall is my time vault, as to what I’m hiding well there’s no point in denying it to you as you have already interrupted my plan. Your help was something I need and was counting on but not for it to happen this soon.” Your eyes widened as his hand came up to your eye level and started to vibrate.

“Is you isn’t it? You are the man in yellow , the ones we have been trying to catch!” Your lip started quivering, from fear and rage. This man who you all had trusted and confided in was the very same nightmare you and the rest had been trying to fight. Of course he was always one step ahead.

“Yes, is me” he replied in a whisper, his voice low and husky. “And now if you want your heart to keep beating, you will do exactly as I say” he lowered his hand closer to your chest, making you tremble in fear thinking this was it.

“I need you to build for me a tachyon enhancer,” he continued. “And I need you to keep this” he signaled with his free hand in between you and him “our secret, don’t think for a moment I won’t know if you try to tell the others, I’m after all always one step ahead.” With a flick of his wrist his hand stopped vibrating and as he moved to the side you made your way out of the lab still in shock. As the elevator doors were about to close you heard him wish you a goodnight, but you were too shocked to be able to process any of what was happening.

That incident had been a week ago and every second of the day you were on edge, always nervous whenever he was around and you were sure the rest of them were catching on that something was wrong with you.

You were working in your work station, a small lab a little away from the cortex, the tachyon enhancer he wanted was in process and as you twisted and secured a few of the screws you turned around completely oblivious to the world as your headphones were on your ears. The moment you turned around your hand flew to your chest as a mini heart attack threaten to appear as you came face to face with Dr.Wells.

“Jesus don’t do that!” You exclaimed, yanking the headphones out of your ears. He only stared at you waiting for your breathing to regulate before speaking.

“How’s our little project coming along?”

“I am working on it as fast as I can without raising questions from Cisco when he passes by, if I spend all the time here on it they are bound to grow suspicious.” He nodded and wheeled himself out of your lab. You had been thinking all day and night in how could you let Barry know what was going on, how to tell him who Wells really was without the man realizing it and ending your life in the process.

As if by a miracle Cisco came up with the idea that you all should go out for drinks, Barry would invite Iris and it would be the perfect opportunity to be out and talk to him without looking suspicious as all of you went out for drinks every once in a while. In there without being too obvious maybe you would be able to get Barry alone and speak to him.

“I need a drink or ten” you commented to Caitlyn as you all made your way to the elevators.

“Alright so Barry will pickup Iris and Caitlyn will pick you and then me and we meet at the bar” commented Cisco turning around and pointing at us.

“That sounds perfect to me” You said as you tried to give him the most genuine smile you could muster given the past few days.

Once alone in your apartment you started to get ready and think about what this past couple of days had been, how fast your life had taken a turn, you felt dirty, you wanted to tell them so much what had been happening but you couldn’t, not without risking a hand going through your chest. Just thinking about it made a hole open in your stomach. What you needed was a good night of drinks and some fun if a candidate appeared, you told yourself . Picking a dress a little too short and some high heels, you let your hair loose and run down your back. As you grabbed your bag and made your way to the door to greet Caity and Cisco your phone rang with a message.

“Don’t even think for a moment I won’t know if you so much as try to tell them.” You didn’t need to read the number to know who the message was from and dread filled you as you looked around in fear trying to spot him somewhere, hiding in the shadows. You jumped as Cisco knocked loudly on the door and called for you to hurry up.

The night had been promising, the bar was full and the music loud. Drink after drink seemed like the only solution tonight. Dancing and talking with your friends you started to relax a little bit more, your plan to tell them long forgotten since that message.

Around midnight you spotted a guy who caught your attention and as you made conversation with him you realized this is the distraction you were looking for. Walking over to the team you informed them you would leave with a friend and to not worry if anything were to happen you would let them know instantly. As you made it to the door of your building said stranger was kissing you, as you smiled in the kiss and and played with his hair his hand was running up against your thigh, the kiss deepened as you struggled with the key to open the door and in the moment you finally opened it and were about to pull him inside in a gush of wind and lightning he disappeared. Shock and rage filled you as you banged your forehead against the door and closed your eyes to take a breath. You knew who had done it, and to confirm your suspicions the moment you opened your eyes you were met with a pair of red glowing ones and a distorted face in a yellow suit. But as you were about to open your mouth to give him a piece of your mind he disappeared.

The next day at the lab Caitlyn asked you how it had been with your friend and you sadly had to tell her that something had come up and he had to leave.

“What a shame, he was cute, maybe you will see him again” she commented, trying to cheer you up.

“Yeah he was really cute,” you said “and who knows yeah I probably will see him again” you said making sure to glare daggers at Harrison, who was looking over at you two from the hallway that connected to the cortex.

“ Miss l/n a word please?” He asked in that tone that made everyone believe he was just worried or looking out for all of you. Getting up you walked after him, following to the lab farther away from the cortex, where no one was sure to listen or walk in by accident. As you got there, you used the little courage you had left to confront him.

“What was that last night?!” “What is it to you who I take him?” You questioned him, crossing your arms over your chest. He rubbed two fingers over his lips and stared at you with those piercing eyes that felt as if they could look inside your soul and as he lowered his hand he got up from his chair, towering over you, making you feel small and reminding you how intimidating he could be. He walked over to you in slow long strides, moving his arms to rest each one next to your body, caging you in in between the desk and himself.

“I don’t like distractions in my plans” his voice was low almost a whisper, “have we met in different circumstances it would had probably even been fun” he said. You could only look at him, and it could be the adrenaline of the moment or his close proximity but you found yourself feeling a low tingle in your stomach and the temperature of your body rise to the sky. It wasn’t a lie that he was attractive and smelled in a way that made you want to bury your noise in his neck. Your body betrayed you as you felt heat pool in between your legs and tried to focus your attention on him, only to realize that you haven’t heard a single word of what he had said and only catches the phrase “adhere to the plan.” And with that he pulled back away from you and sat back on the chair.

That night you couldn’t sleep. Your mind kept playing that moment over and over again. His voice, so close to your face, his lips, the way he moved, so dominating and confident, knowing he had the upper hand , that he had power over you, and his smell. The way he smelled, musky and clean. It was intoxicating and you wondered how you had never smelled him before.

After that incident you haven’t been able to be alone with him without thinking about it, or going as far as to imagine what would it feel like if he kissed you. You had a feeling he was a dominant man in bed. Your eyes widened as you realized just what you had been thinking about and realizing you needed a distraction you stopped your work on his tachyon enhancer and went to collect your things to leave a little earlier, taking advantage that he was nowhere to be seen, probably hiding in his room in the wall or hole in the wall as you called it.

Tonight was the night you would finally have some fun. Dressed in a very sexy black silky dress you decided to find some place to clear your mind with and after a few drinks and some luck maybe find some company too.

A few too many drinks you found yourself a little drunk but with the perfect company of a guy you had been talking to for the past half hour and making your way to your apartment everything seemed to be going smoothly. But as fate had it, in the moment you both made it through the door and he started kissing you and moving his hands to the zipper of your dress, in a fit of lighting he was gone, once again, another man with who you were about to have fun with was gone, and of course in his place was the man in the yellow suit. With the liquid courage so many drinks had given you, you pointed your finger at him.

“What is your problem!!” You attempted to smack him chest with your close fist. “What is it to you! Why do you care who I sleep with?” You screamed at him, tired of his constant interruptions. Grabbing your hand and in the blink of an eye he had you against the wall. His mask was pulled down and his red eyes stared at you. Your breath caught in your throat at his proximity and the position he had you in. “As I told you, I don’t like distractions, and you are becoming one big one, I also don’t like sharing, if I cannot have you, then nobody can” he said, his voice deep and distorted.

It took a second for your brain to process what he was saying and in between the alcohol in your system and his presence you started to blush, your mouth was semi open, unable to said anything.

Slowly he moved closer to you and as you closed your eyes his lips crashed into yours. His kiss was dominating, passionate, it made your knees tremble and your hand instinctively moved to his hair. One of his arms moved to the wall next to your head as the other came to rest in your waist. The kiss deepened, his tongue intrusively moved inside your mouth and you moaned into the kiss which only served to spur him on as he squeezed your waist and moved the hand on the wall and buried his fingers in your hair, keeping you in place.

He broke away, only to start kissing along your jaw down to your neck, moving lower he found that sensitive spot in between your neck and shoulder and when your head moved back and you pulled his hair at the pleasure, he made sure to suck on your skin and bite into it, gaining a long moan out of you.

“Which way is your room?” He asked in between kisses, his voice low and husky, as he lifted both your legs and you wrapped them around him. “Second door to the right” you said breathlessly as he sped you both away into it. Kneeling down on the bed he started to caress your thigh moving up to grab the bottom of your dress and lift it over your head, leaving you naked to him. You shivered and as he kissed his way down your shoulders and chest his hand came up your sides grazing the curve of your breast. Your hands played with his hair as you tried to feel if there was a zipper or a way to get him out of the suit.

Laying you back he phased himself out of the suit, moving his hands to your hair to hold you in place he kissed you passionately as he devoured your mouth your hands caressed all over him, feeling his skin, his toned arms, the curve of his shoulders and the way his back muscle flexed at the effort of holding himself over you. His hand moved up and down your thigh and as it got close to your butt cheek he moved his thumb slowly around the inside of your thigh right where it met the curve of your ass, feeling how warm and hot you were for him. The moment his thumb went over your entrance you moaned hard into his mouth. Breaking the kiss he held your hands over your head with one hand and started kissing down your neck to your breast, marking the soft skin of your breast, sucking and leaving small bites in it, making you squirm under him.

His other hand worked around your entrance, yanking down your underwear he ran a finger over, feeling your wetness and groaning at the feeling of your heat. Vibrating his thumb he moved over your clit, making you cry out in pleasure as one finger eased his way into you, and as he increased the speed added a second finger, stretching you, making you moan and arch your back as you tried to break your hands free.

Once out of his grip your hands went to his hair as you pulled him up to kiss you again, his eyes bore into yours, as he fingered you, watching you squirm and close your eyes at the pleasure. Your hand ran down his stomach, feeling his muscles, trying to get to his boxers and touch him.

That’s when it hit him how far he had allowed himself to let this go, you were a distraction to his plan, he was putting all of his work in danger for this, but he had been alone for so long, for fifteen years he had missed the touch of someone else, he was letting his rational size take control once again, he couldn’t allow this to go any farther, but as soon as your hand grasped his cock he knew all though process went out the window, he was impossibly hard and the second you stroke him down he had to bury his face in your neck to conceal a moan that was threatening to escape, he couldn’t hold on too much longer, it had been too long for him and the only thought in his head was how desperately he needed to be buried balls deep inside of you. He started to vibrate the fingers inside of you and you started to feel your orgasm get closer, as he vibrates his thumb faster your eyes rolled back and you moaned hard under him, pulling at the nape of his neck and scratching his shoulder. If coming over his fingers had felt this good you couldn’t wait for what coming over his cock would feel like.

Looking into your eyes he waited a second for you to look at him and decide if you wanted him to stop, he honestly thought you would realize what you were doing by now and demand him to leave, but instead you grabbed his face and kissed him hard while you struggled to take his boxers off, once his cock was free, you moved your hips against his, feeling his tip slide in between your folds, making you moan into the kiss, grabbing your waist , he hid his face in your neck, bitting down on you as he started to push his cock into you.

Groaning at the sensation of your wet walls squeezing him and for a second he forgot all about his plan, all about everything as the feeling of being inside of you consumed him.

Thrusting slowly into you he started to move. Making you moan in pleasure and grabbing his shoulders, scratching his back at the feeling of him bottoming out into you. His hand moved to your thigh, moving it over his hip, making you wrap it around him, giving him a better angle to go deeper, hitting that spot inside that made your eyes roll back and your back arch. Enjoying your reaction he kept hitting at that angle, loving the feeling of you squirming under him, in a moaning mess, sweat grazing your forehead as you tried to beg him to go faster. He knew what you wanted, but he enjoyed watching you try to form words to ask him for it.

“Move… move faster please” you begged him in between thrusts. He only moaned in response and started to move his hand down your abdomen, vibrating his fingers over your clit and speeding up his thrusts. You felt yourself clinging to his shoulders and scratching his back at the pleasure, your walls started tighten around him, squeezing him as you started to come, taking in a breath and squeezing your eyes shot as your orgasm came over you, coming around him was an addicting feeling, his cock moving in and out of you, hitting that spot in you while you came was too much for you as you moaned hard in the air, it felt like a shock, like electricity pumping through your veins, it was a feeling you never wanted to end. His trust became erratic, he was close, he bit down your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark as he came deep inside of you, enjoying every second of it, it had been literal centuries since the last time he had done this, and the feeling was excruciating.

Giving you a few seconds to breathe and come down from your high he kept his face in your neck breathing into your hair calming his breathing. Lifting himself off of you he saw the sloppy smile playing on your lips, your pupils dilated as you looked at him, cheeks flushes from the alcohol and effort. He doubted you would remember much in the morning. He hoped this wouldn’t complicate things. But he was sure he would have to do something about it if it interfered with his plan.

Slowly he moved out of you, as you turned into your side, too tired to think now, slowly drifting into sleep. He sped around the room getting into his suit and making his way back to the lab, he needed to think and check with Guideon that the article hadn’t changed.

The next morning you woke up with a raging headache, looking around slowly you notice a bottles of pills in your nightstand and a glass of water. You wondered how much exactly did you he to drink last night. Rubbing your forehead with your hands it took exactly 5 seconds and a sticky feeling in between your legs for you brain to catch up with what had happened last night and as a dread feeling came over you, you wondered how could you go back to the labs and face him. Not only him but the rest of the team now that you had literally slept with the enemy, and the worst part is that you didn’t regret how good it had felt to have him deep inside of you.

@mintchipcupcake @nellethiel-aranel @saltykidcreation

[taones]

𝐈 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 // 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚

↬ Parings: Osamu x reader

↬ Reader: Gender Neutral but AFAB  

 ↬ A/n: thank you to lovely Dee and Charlie for reading this over and correcting my shitty punctuation, I hope you guys like this cause I was freaking out slightly

↬ Warnings: mentions of food in the first paragraphs. Nickname ‘kitten’ for reader, finger sucking, choking, unprotected sex, teasing, kinda sweet/fluffy aftercare

“Hey”  you called, opening the door to your partners shop.

Osamu, said partner, had given you a key specifically for times like this. The shop was closed but you had come after work, it was nice to spend time with him outside of your home. A change of scenery was good once in a while and you got to spend more time with him than usual. 

His arms were quick to wrap around you the moment you got close enough. He always smelt so nice despite being around food all day. It was a soft, woody scent that you loved to surround yourself in. Soft fingers massaged at your shoulders until you untensed. A sigh escaped you. The days stress and work visibly bled out of your shoulders, sinking into the floor. 

Sighing, you looked up at him.

“How was your day kitten?” he muttered, rubbing your neck.

You hummed, too lost in the feeling of his relaxing touch to form a response. He squeezed your arm softly for a reply. 

“It was fine?” you replied, “just tiring s’all”

He frowned a little at your exhaustion. The obvious question in your tone saying you were fine told him the opposite. Osamu never liked seeing you tired. Hands snuck up to cup your cheeks, tilting your head until you opened your tired eyes. He smiled softly at you, leaning to give you a slow peck. 

“I just have some things to prepare and then we can go home hmm pretty one?”

― ― ―

You were worked up. Osamu and you had been sitting in your kitchen for the past hour. You were watching him make bread and cookies, activities that should’ve been mundane at the least and domestic at the most. However, pretty soon into the task, your eyes had fixated on the hands and forearms of your partner. 

Every stir and knead of the dough caused the veins in his flexing arms to pop a little more. The more they stood out, the more you writhed on your chair. It wasn’t exactly like you were trying to hide it and it was surprising that he hadn’t noticed. The grey-haired man had barely looked at you since he started. You were used to him being engrossed in a mix of baking and humming to the tune that was on the radio but you were getting desperate. 

Whenever he pulled the dough out, sprinkled some flour or punched into the bowl to deflate the dough, his arms brought thoughts to you. Thoughts of countless nights with that strength pinning your legs to the bed to stop you writhing. Thoughts of those arms holding your arms behind your back as he pounded you into the bed covers. Thoughts of his fingers pressing down on your tongue and you desperately sucking on them.

He put the last of the dough away to proof and washed his hands. The sight of him splashing water over his face was the final straw for you. Water droplets dripped down the tan skin of his neck, eyes closed in relief at the cool feeling. You whimpered. 

“Oh?” he smirked, looking over to where you sat.

Your thighs were rubbing together in repetitive motions and it was obvious you were grinding down onto the chair beneath you. The plain cotton panties under your skirt were soaked through, pooling uncomfortably between your thighs. Sweat glistened on your forehead and your bitten lips gave away just how desperate you were.

“Pretty one” he mused, sauntering round the table, “couldn’t help yourself hmm?”

Another roll of your hips had him finally touching you. Nothing much but even the feeling of his cool hands against the searing skin of your neck made you gasp. His hand slid up the side of your neck to cup your jaw, tilting your head until you were looking him in the eyes. 

“What do we say when we need something, kitten?” 

“Please ‘Samu” you whispered

That frustrating smirk slid back onto his face. You would begin to resent it if you weren’t so excited for what you know follows.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me”

Strong fingers slid under the loose fabric of your shorts and the elastic of the, now soaked, cotton fabric. The rough pads of his fingers danced lightly over your folds. It was enough to give you a taste of his touch but nowhere near what you wanted, what you needed. It felt like all the ovens in the room had been turned on, his figure over yours was almost suffocating you in his presence. A nibble to your ear sent your hips canting forwards against his teasing digits, finally pushing them towards where you desperately needed them to be. 

A growl sounded from above you.

Almost instantly, two digits were pushed into you. You choked on your moan at the sudden feeling of fullness, mixed beautifully with relief. They were pumped in and out at a punishing pace, not giving you time to catch your breath. The speed was taking the wind from your lungs and he wasn’t pausing his actions to let you adjust. Why should he? You were the one who was so desperate for his touch.

“Sa-samu, slow down,” you moan loudly.

The only response you got was a low chuckle and a thumb pressed against your clit. The circles Osamu was rubbing against it were gentle enough but, combined with the force of his fingers, you remained overwhelmed. The heat rose to your cheeks again as you found yourself opening your mouth to beg once more. 

“Ah, ple-”

Your request was cut off by your partner's free hand coming up to grip your jaw. Your face was pulled towards his. 

“Why the noise kitty? I thought this was what you wanted, for me to touch you?” he drawled.

Grunting, you clenched around his digits. You were eager to get some sort of stimulation as his fingers had gone from one extreme to the other and were motionless. Once again, you opened your mouth only for it to be filled by the hand that was previously holding your face to his. You now had two of his fingers filling your mouth, sliding over your tongue to the back of your throat. 

With you silent, he was able to start up his previous actions without distraction. He used his forearm to hook around your hip and keep it still. He was in total control. The only person able to bring you the relief you needed was him and you had a feeling he was going to take his sweet time in getting you there. 

“You’re so easy once you’re quiet” he muttered next to your ear, “so fucking desperate for me aren’t you?”

Both sets of fingers were moving at a slow pace.  Every drag against your soft walls was like torture, the friction just bodering on what you needed. The pump of his fingers meant lewd squelching was echoing around your kitchen, the sounds making your face heat up in shame. You whined, grinding your clit down on his palm in an effort to chase some proper friction. To your surprise, he let you. 

You were wrecked. Chasing your high had left your face damp with sweat and you knew how debauched the motions of your hips desperately grinding against Osamu’s palm was. Did you care? No. The only thing on your mind was the fingers pumping in and out of you and reaching your high.

And then he stopped.

The whimper you let out when his fingers stopped moving made his heart ache and his hips burn but he continued to pull his fingers out of you. Your hips still moved above where his hand was as if you could bring his hand back. He chuckled.

“Sorry kitten” he groaned

His voice was strained and you soon figured out why. He moved you upwards on shaky legs and pulled you towards him for a kiss. Your head was fuzzy and movements lazy so your tongues moved together shamelessly. Dragging you closer made you feel exactly why he had stopped. His length was hard under his trousers and pressing painfully against the fabric. You met his eyes, only to find him already staring at you. The tall man was obviously wrecked too. His eyes were sort of unfocused cheeks red and lips bitten red and raw. Yet he stared down at you like you were his prey. 

Hands reached down to undo his trousers and he groaned at the feeling of relieving the pressure on his aching dick. The sight of him straining against his boxers made your knees weak. You watched intently as he pulled off the last piece of fabric, actions too frantic to bother taking them off completely. 

It wasn’t long before his attention was back onto you. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and you whined a bit. Hearing the noise made him smirk, he had always loved the effect he had on you. No time more than now, when he was pushing you against the counter and slipping his tongue in your mouth to keep you quiet. His pretty kitten. 

A hand reached under your shirt. The white fabric was quickly pulled over your head and thrown somewhere in the room, his lips moving from your mouth to encase your nipple. He let his tongue swirl around the bud, holding your back to keep you steady. You slid your fingers through his hair, tugging on the roots to feel his groans vibrate around you. 

“Osamu c’mon, hurry up” you mutter, tugging at the back of his shirt.

He rolled his eyes and looked at you. His silence made your heart race, you know you were pushing a little but he had left you desperate and the dampness of your inner thighs vouched for that.

His hand slid between the valley of your chest and came to rest against your throat. Your breath hitched in excitement. Blue eyes glinted when they met yours, squeezing against the side of your throat just to see your eyes rolled back. He bent down so his mouth was beside your ears. You felt a hot breath against the side of your face. 

“You don’t tell me what to do,” he drawled, “understand?”

He accompanied his question with another squeeze to the sides of your throat. You whimpered. The domineering tone to his voice had your pussy clenching around nothing. You were desperate for him to touch you but you nodded anyway. He knew what was best for you and he was in charge. You were his dumb little kitty, hanging off his every word.

You were brought back down to earth by the feeling of him pulling you off of the table. You stared in confusion for a little but were soon bent across said table. The cool surface pressing against your heated skin sent shivers down your spine. As did the feeling of Osamu’s hard tip pressing against your hole. Tempted to shake your hips, you chose better of it. As much as you loved teasing him, the empty feeling you had made you weak to his wants. 

He pushed in, finally. The stretch wasn’t as much as usually considering the time he had spent opening you up on his fingers. The feeling of his cock stretching and dragging against your walls had you panting against the table, the pressure forcing the air out of your lungs. There wasn’t a chance to catch your breath before your body was shifting up the table with the force of his thrusts.

“Ah- feel s’good” he moans from above you, “fuck kitten”

You couldn’t respond. Still face down on the table, your moans were muffled by the cold plastic. Said plastic felt like ice against your skin. It was quickly heating up from the friction of your body being dragged up and down from the force of your boyfriend's hips. His hands were dragging your hips down to meet his thrusts, leaving you defenceless against his wants. 

The way you liked it. 

Eventually, he grew tired of your muffled moans. He needed to hear you. A hand wrapped around your throat once more, dragging you upwards and away from the table. Immediately, you moaned loudly at the change of angle. The grip on your throat tightened as the male behind you leant down to whisper in your ear. 

“Look at the mess you made” 

On the table were marks from both drool and the evidence from his earlier actions. Your face burned in shame and you tried to turn your head. Osamu had other plans. His hips continued to move while he gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at your mess. 

“So dirty” he groaned, biting at your ear lobe, “what do we say kitten?”

“I’m sorry” you keened, “sorry ‘samu a-ah”

The grunt at your whines left you with a small feeling of victory. It was quickly pushed from your mind as he pushed you against the table once more, hand still on your throat. His grip tightened from a loose grip on the sides and your eyes rolled back. The constriction made your head light and floaty, your choked moans were fuzzy and all you could focus on was the man above you. Your Osamu.

Gripping at the counter, you began to move your hips back in tandem with his thrusts.  The sounds of your skin colliding were echoing around the kitchen. Accompanied by the lewd squelching sounds of your pussy. Usually, they would fill you with embarrassment yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about anything else except reaching your high. 

“Osamu- ‘Samu please” you begged

You didn’t really know what you were begging for. Was it more of his touch? For his fingers? To come around his cock? You were too far gone to know. 

He breathed out heavily. Your moans affected him like nothing else. The way you were begging, voice hoarse from the hand wrapped around your throat and a good hour of moaning like a whore for him. This added to the white ring at the base of his dick every time you moved forward was sending him closer to the edge. Every drag of his cock against your walls brought you closer and closer to the edge. It was a wonder you had lasted this long with his pace.

“M’close” you gasped, grabbing at the hand around your neck.

“Go on baby, you did good” he was breathless behind you

His hand moved from your throat, leaning you against the counter. It slipped round your thigh so he could circle and pinch at your clit. Your back arched, clenching harshly around him. Vision going white as you came around his cock, soaking his upper thighs.  Slumping on the table, you tried to catch your breath.

He tried to stay still, he really did. But he was pulsing inside your soaked walls. Osamu’s tip was most likely an angry red and holding out so long. His thrusts started up again which sent you into oversensitivity. Your whines and mewls started up again, aiding him while he chased his high. 

A final thrust had him spilling into you. He leant across you with two arms either side of your head to keep himself up. Gingerly, he pulled out. You both winced as the cool air of the kitchen hit you once again. 

Lifting your torso, he sank down the the floor with you. Neither of you cared about the puddle of hi cum that was left on the counter nor what was now dripping down the inside of your thigh onto the floor. He had his arms wrapped around you, that’s all you needed. 

“You were so good kitten” he muttered, kissing the top of your head

You started to doze, body cooling down. Osamu rested your head on his shoulder to support your sleepy form. It wasn’t comfortable but work combined with being bent over a table had zapped most of your energy. So, despite your state, you felt your eyes droop.

“Get some sleep baby, you deserve it” he whispered, your ‘Samu.

Please ignore any spelling or punctuation errors, I was too nervous to read over it again hehe. I hope you guys enjoyed it, I know I loved writing it!

Taglist: @prettysetterbaby​ @miyaflix @corpse-monsterfucker @gayfanficanonymous

Remember reblogging helps content creators <3

[riddlecrux]

Why rejection leads to the endgame: Rowaelin and Elriel comparison.

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR and TOG series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. This post is going to be about two very prominent scenes that occur to the main characters and how they are played in the books, setting-wise but also plot-wise. Of course, a small warning: this is strictly pro-Elriel meta, so if it isn't your cup of tea you are in the wrong place. Also: SPOILERS FOR TOG!

I would like to start this meta with a short preface about how I am going to approach the subject. The things I will be looking into are setting, wording, and emotional attachments. (With a sprinkle of speculations).

We will begin with Rowaelin and how the rejection scene developed. The plotline setting is after a very tense situation, which was confronting Arobynn.

Queen of Shadows, pg. 321

Rowan was done waiting. (...) The lamplight glinted off the combs in her hair and along the golden dragon on the dress.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it glides across combs of Aelin hair - "glinted"

Also worth mentioning is how Rowan finally overcame his inner battle. He became impatient.

Azriel POV, pg. 1

Azriel couldn't stop it. (...) he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. (...) and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it lightens Elain hair - "gilded"

Again, we have a male who is questioning his inner feelings and after an imminent mind battle, he decides to move and goes towards a place when he meets up with a female.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 321-322

She half turned toward him. (...) The look in her eyes—guilt, anger, agony—hit him like a blow to the gut.

(...) and though she tried to hide it, he could see the fear in her gaze, and the guilt.

Rowan can read Aelin without words. Just one look and he knows exactly what she feels or what hides behind her words - which often are laced with lies. Yet, he, Rowan was able to always see beneath the false facade - even before they were told about them being true mates.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

Azriel, just as Rowan can easily deduct lies underneath Elain's words. Him being a shadowsinger and spymaster could help him in knowing the truth, yet we have an emphasis on the fact that he didn't need his powers to realize and catch Elain's lie based on her tone and facial expressions.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

He watched her swallow.

The same imagery, similar wording. Both males are focused on the females' emotions and their nervousness/trepidation.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

She rested her head against his chest, the tips of the bat-wing combs digging into him enough that he eased them one at a time from her hair. The gold was slick and cold in his hands (...)

Emphasis on: - Aelin initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Aelin's hair

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

"Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable.

Emphasis on: - Elain initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Elain's hair

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She huffed a laugh that might have been a sob and wrapped her arms around his waist as if trying to steal his warmth.

He flattened his hand against her waist, his fingers contracting once as if debating letting her go.

We have Aelin seeking Rowan's touch, she is the one who pushes on the physical line between them. It's important to note that it's her constantly assessing Rowan, trying to close the distance between them. She's acting on her feelings and a need for closure.

Emphasis on the wording used by SJM: - "flattened his hand (...)"

Azriel POV pg. 3

Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

Emphasis on: - "until his palm lay flat (...)"

In this setting, we have Elain who, once again, closes on the distance between her and Azriel. Just like Aelin she chooses to move along her feelings - which are obstructed from the reader's point of view due to the text being singular POV. It is her who slowly builds up the courage and makes Azriel touch her. Settle on her skin.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She waited for him to pull back, but he just stared at her—stared into her in that way he always did. Friends, but more. So much more, and she’d known it longer than she wanted to admit.

Carefully, she stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, his face slick with the rain.

Aelin realizes her feelings. She comes with the terms of their friendship and its possible development - both she and Rowan started out on the wrong foot, yet they formed an amazing friendship. They built their relation slowly, surely with many heartful moments that bordered on the line of friendship and something more.

Emphasis on: - Aelin "stroking" Rowan's face

Azriel POV pg. 3

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine.

Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.

As in the Rowaelin case, Elain and Azriel also built their relationship from a friendship. It was formed during the very dark period of time on Elain's behalf - just like it was for Aelin's. Both Azriel and Elain found comfort with each other, they both started to enjoy the company of the other - sitting in comfortable silence. Yet, we have an idea that this friendship slowly started to bloom into something riskier, more emotional. Both, Azriel and Elain already had their first love ripped away, never fulfilled, and ending in a painful manner. And for the first time when we are inside Azriel POV, it confirms that they balanced on this thin line for a while.

Emphasis on: - Azriel "brushing" Elain's throat and nape

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

It hit her like a stone—the wanting. She was a fool to have dodged it, denied it, even when a part of her had screamed it every morning that she’d blindly reached for the empty half of the bed.

Emphasis on: - realization of desire - mornings in the bed - desperate search for Rowan in the sheets

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.

(...) a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Emphasis on: - desire - night and bed - looking at the gift from Elain on his nightstand

Both scenes and paragraphs signalize that both Aelin and Azriel fought with their newfound feelings. They were realizing that the friendship was slowly turning into something more - a feeling of desire to not only be close to the other person but also a desire to close the distance between friends and lovers.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

She lifted her other hand to his face and his eyes locked onto hers, his breathing ragged as she traced the lines of the tattoo along his temple.

His hands tightened slightly on her waist, his thumbs grazing the bottom of her ribcage. It was an effort not to arch into his touch.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

(...) his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer.

Emphasis on: - constant engaging in physical contact - touching vulnerable parts of the other person - answering to the touch

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

“Rowan,” she breathed, his name a plea and a prayer. She slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek, and—

Azriel POV pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Emphasis on: - how the last word before the almost kiss is breathed - "religious" themes such as comparison to Rowan's name to the prayer - Mother (a "religious" figure) being present during this intimate scene between Elain and Azriel

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

Faster than she could see, he grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly. The world yawned open around her, cold and still.

He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away, those green eyes flat and dull in a way she hadn’t seen for some time now. Her throat closed up even before he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

Rowan rejected Aelin in a brusque manner - and it wasn't necessarily because he didn't want to engage in expanding their relationship past the friendship. Rowan at this moment still lacks self-reassurance about how he should feel after Lyria. He is scared. It is something different than the feelings that restrained him from the kiss.

Azriel POV, pg. 4

Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

We have Azriel who rejects the kiss because of Rhysand. It was not on his own terms. It was an order of his High Lord that involuntarily stopped him from kissing Elain.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

There was a roaring in her ears, a burning in her face, and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean—” She backed away a step, toward the door on the other side of the roof. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.”

Azriel POV pg. 4

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

In both scenes, it's the female that apologizes. The one who initiated physical contact. Aelin apologizes twice, meanwhile, Elain is rendered speechless and hurt - and it's Azriel who assures her that it is she doesn't need to apologize. However, Elain is left alone without an explanation and Azriel can't stand seeing her like that.

Both scenes are built in a similar manner - we have friendships border lining on a thin line of something more. Both Elain and Aelin are the ones who initiate physical contact and are the ones who are "rejected", left hurt, and confused. Rowan and Azriel are battling their self-hatred and feeling of unworthiness that is very sound in both of their POVS. There is a lot of things that contribute to the rejection - especially their feelings. Rowan and Azriel feel the romantic pull towards their loved ones - they know that desire and their feelings are reciprocated. Yet, their inner struggles are in the way of fully accepting the fact that the female they yearn for is able to accept them.

More parallels:

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He’d almost fallen to his knees when he’d first seen her earlier tonight.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Both males are on the verge of falling to their knees in front of Aelin/Elain. They are ready to submit to their loved ones.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

(...) understood that though she’d seen his eyes shine with hunger—hunger for her—it didn’t mean he wanted to act on it. Didn’t mean he might not hate himself for it.

In this chapter in Queen Of Shadows, we are presented with dual POV, both from Rowan and Aelin so it's easier to see what Aelin had felt when she was rejected. She tells the audience that she was aware of the fact that Rowan exhibited a desire for her. Furthermore, we have another instance of Aelin being able to understand Rowan without words. She knows that Rowan feeling lust for her might have resulted in him hating himself for that because of what had happened with Lyria.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

We are obstructed from Elain's point of view and her understanding is explained by Azriel. He knows that Elain understands him. It's an important thing to remember since their friendship was built on the comfortable silence in which both of them bask. Elain and Azriel, just like Aelin and Rowan understand each other without words.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 337

He hated it. Hated that he couldn’t reach her when she was that person. Hated that he’d snapped at her last night, had panicked at the touch of her hands. Now she’d shut him out entirely. This person she’d become today had no kindness, no joy.

Azriel POV, pg. 2-4

(...) Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

Both Rowan and Azriel don't want to hurt their significant other. They battle their inner demons, their inner self-worth problems while trying not to put the weight of it on Aelin and Elain. Rowan has his mind troubled because he, at this moment in the books, is still burdened with what had happened to his "mate". On the other hand, we have Azriel who can't bring himself to be in the same room as Elain and Lucien due to their bond. A mate that Elain doesn't want. Azriel's reaction to the mating bond is also very strange - he can see it and scent it. Which I believe should be very telling if we're taking true mate/second mate theories into consideration. So, overall the problem of both males stems from the notion of "mate".

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 345

Even now, he honestly couldn’t decide if he was amused or enraged by Rowan’s words—Don’t touch me like that—when it was obvious the warrior-prince felt quite the opposite.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --

Rowan and Azriel want to indulge in their desire for Aelin and Elain. Both of them weren't able to do so because of the "rejection", yet we are presented with the fact that even the rejection doesn't mean anything as long as both males feel completely opposite to what they had told during the refusal scenes.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

Her scent hit him as she unbound her hair and nestled into the pile of pillows. That scent had always struck him, had always been a call and a challenge. It had shaken him so thoroughly from centuries encased in ice that he’d hated her at first. And now … now that scent drove him out of his mind.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Emphasis on: - the scent - how it affects the male

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

They were both really damn lucky that she currently couldn’t shift into her Fae form and smell what was pounding through his blood. It had been hard enough to conceal it from her until now.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent.

Both males explain to the audience that their desire and lust were and are something they are battling as well. Rowan and Azriel are anxious because of their own problems with self-worth that they are struggling to keep as a secret.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

He’d seen her naked before—a few times. And gods, yes, there had been moments when he’d considered it, but he’d mastered himself. He’d learned to keep those useless thoughts on a short, short leash. Like that time she’d moaned at the breeze he sent her way on Beltane—the arch of her neck, the parting of that mouth of hers, the sound that came out of her—

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Emphasis on: - keeping the desire to himself - imagery of the female body - the sounds/moans

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

She was now lying on her side, her back to him. “About last night,” he said through his teeth. “It’s fine. It was a mistake.”

Azriel POV, pg. 4

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

I think this is self-explanatory. The same words, similar situation. Rejection followed by a declaration of it being a mistake when the truth is that both couples are yearning for each other and want to be with one another.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 349

The desire hadn’t been what shook him at all. It was just … Aelin had driven him insane these past few weeks, and yet he hadn’t considered what it would be like to have her look at him with interest.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent.

So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open (...)

Rowan and Azriel didn't even think about the fact that their desire could be reciprocated- and more than lust they were shocked that Aelin/Elain would look at them with interest, longing, hope. They weren't ready to acknowledge the fact that they weren't alone in this spiral of emotions and feelings.

Moving forward we have the acceptance stage and romantic moments for Rowaelin in Queen Of Shadows. Of course in the case of Elriel we are limited to an extra chapter, however, there are still very prominent similarities in setting and wording.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 378

“Aelin,” he breathed. Not in reprimand or warning, but … a plea. It sounded like a plea. He lowered his head to her exposed neck and hovered a hair’s breadth away. She arched her neck farther, a silent invitation. Rowan let out a soft groan and grazed his teeth against her skin.

He let out another low groan, answer and confirmation and request, and the rumble echoed inside her

Azriel POV, pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Both couples operate without words. In the case of Rowaelin we have: - a plea - a silent invitation - an answer - a confirmation - a request

In the case of Elriel we have: - an offer - a permission - a decision - a relief - a need

The same setting, very similar description, and usage of words. As I was saying, in the case of Elain and Azriel relationship we are obstructed from Elain's point of view due to the content being a bonus chapter. Yet, we can draw a comparison between both couples. Why? Because SJM structured both rejections in the same way. Rowaeiln's rejection leads to a relationship, later to a discovery of being true mates. Is it a coincidence? From a writer's point of view and an avid reader - I don't believe so. She structured both rejections, in the same manner, using very similar vocabulary and even the familiar setting. In the case of Elriel - Azriel's "rejection" is what essentially builds a start for their relationship in the next book. We also have to remember that in Elain and Azriel situation we have:

- a mate - political background - forbidden romance - compatible powers - blood duel - connection to Koschei SJM gave us a setup for the premise of the next book which we know is Elain's. Azriel and Feyre's POV focus on her, but we know that it's one couple per book. Which perfectly aligns with Elriel and their rejection and pining. In SJM universe such rejections as the ones presented are used to further develop a couple, not to bring it down. The parallels are evident and if you are thinking that she doesn't use foreshadowing and she doesn't focus on details I would recommend rereading both series and see that SJM is an expert in foreshadowing - even the tiniest bits of it come out through the series.

That's why in the cases of her HEA couples rejection means endgame.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 379

“This changes things,” she said, hardly able to get the words out. “Things have been changing for a while already. We’ll deal with it.”

[oogaboogasphincter]

The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break. 

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting​ and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic​. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian​

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?” 

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being. 

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.” 

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.” 

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies. 

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.” 

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you. 

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study. 

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you’ve ever experienced. 

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left. 

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts. 

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt. 

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out. 

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.” 

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester. 

💘taglist: @pascalpanic​, @mellowswriting​

[pepper-up-potion]

Starry nights (Remus Lupin x fem!reader)

Summary: Remus has a crush on reader but never directly admits it so reader grows impatient and fesses up before him.

Warnings: the mention of the word penis (not in a sexual way it’s a joke more specifically the penis game where u say the word lowered and lowered in a public place), nothing else, it’s just fluff

Word count: 1783 words

A/n: Once again a fic inspired by my relationship 🙈. I feel like Remus is one of those people that thinks you’re already dating and forgets to make it official (much like my bf) so I wrote a fic about that. Hope you like it :)

(Y/n) is scribbling away trying to finish her astronomy paper about Jupiter’s moons before the end of her free period. She’s gone up to the library where she expects no distractions and absolute silence.

This wish is met until she arrives at her concluding paragraph. Laughs erupt from the front entrance of the library and she suspects that is all the work she is going to get done before class. Three boys sit down in front of her while she finishes her sentence. She finally looks up at Sirius, James and Remus who have just started playing the penis game.

“Penis” James whispers.

“Penis” says Sirius with a normal register. The few students close by turn their heads and look in disapproval. To this the boys start howling with laughter.

Remus fills his lungs and gets ready to scream but she cuts him off.

“Shhhh. You’ll get us kicked out.” She whispers with her eyes narrowed.

Remus looks at her apologetically as he releases the air from his lungs. “Sorry” he mumbles, cheeks red.

“We’re bored y/n come hang out with us.” Says James with a whiny voice.

“Don’t you have work to do?” She whispers sharply. Maybe if Madam Pince sees her whispering she’ll only kick out the boys and let her stay and finish her paper.

“Ughh who caressss” groans Sirius.

“We were thinking of playing a short game of quidditch. Do you wanna come with us?” Remus whispers.

“It sounds fun but I really want to finish this paper before my next class.” His face falls when she declines but he quickly covers it with an acknowledging nod.

“nerd.” Coughs Sirius.

She sticks her tongue out at him making them chuckle.

They quickly realize she isn’t going to budge and before she knows it, they were gone. Grateful for the peace and quiet she focuses back to her paper and writes down another sentence. As she ponders on what to write next she looks up and notices a small bit of folded parchment that had not been there before the boys came to visit.

Looking around to make sure it couldn’t be someone else's, she reaches out and unfolds the paper. Maybe she will recognize one of the boys’ writing and give it back to them.

Meet me at the boathouse at 10:00 tonight. -Mooney

Her stomach fills with butterflies and a deep blush tints her cheeks. It’s been a month now they’ve been going on what feels like dates. It’s always just the two of them, the activity always more romantic than the last. Remus walks her back to her common room every time and there’s the occasional hand hold during these night excursions. Neither of them have addressed how they feel about each other. It’s like a secret they’re both trying to keep from each other. A belief that it’s better left unsaid. Sometimes she wonders what would happen if she told him how she felt.

~

Remus is standing at the edge of the harbor looking out at the still water.

“Should I have brought a bathing suit? Or maybe a life jacket? How good are you with boats?” She jokes with a quizzical brow.

Remus does a fast 180 and smiles wide as soon as he sees her face.

“Do you trust me (y/n)?” He asks, smirking.

I trust you more than anyone. I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you. It’s what she wants to say. She looks in his soft eyes. It’s like he knows the answer already. She settles with a small nod instead.

He grabs her hand and guides her to one of the small boats. He steps in first, offering his hand to help her next. With the flick of his wand the boat moves forward.

“Where are we going?” She asks, already a few guesses in mind.

“You’ll see.” He smirks.

It’s mid-October and she can already feel the cold wind stinging her cheeks as the boat moves away from the castle and into the darkness. They mostly ride in silence. There’s the occasional question and anecdote about their day but they don’t really feel it’s necessary to fill the silence.

“Were here” he says after a while.

“What do you mean we're here? There’s nothing here but water!” She says in somewhat of a panic.

“No love, look behind you.” The surname makes her stomach knot on itself and she feels her cheeks turn that familiar pink. She still can’t believe how easily he can get her all flustered.

She turns at the same time as the boat docks onto an island.

“This is bowtruckle island.” Remus says as he climbs out of the boat and gives her a hand out. “I come here when I need some time away from the boys. This is the only place they don’t know I go to. I call it my safe haven.”

She laughs but after looking at the small island, she sort of understands what he means. “There’s something sort of serene about this place. I can see why you like it.”

“Exactly.” He looks at her in absolute admiration. He knew she would see it too, it’s like she understands him perfectly, she feels what he feels.

For a moment they both stand awkwardly on the shore before Remus pulls out a pack. He walks towards the large tree that almost takes up the whole surface of the island. He pulls a blanket and two small pillows from the pack and lays them out on the ground. He looks up at (y/n) and points to one of the pillows.

“I thought we could look at the stars together.” He suggests.

She smiles and nods in agreement. She never knew Remus could be such a romantic until they started these “dates”.

Their conversations flow smoothly as they talk about the stars and classes and funny memories, getting more and more familiar with one another. They eventually fall into a comfortable silence. The rhythmic sound of the water swishing onto the shore helps her drift away into her thoughts. She wishes she could stay there forever. She feels at her best when she’s with Remus. She thinks maybe she should tell him that. Maybe she should tell him everything she’s ever thought about him. How badly she wants to kiss him. How much she wishes they could be a couple and walk around the school hand in hand to rub in everyone’s face that they are together. How she’s had a crush on him ever since he smiled and shook her hand when they first met in second year.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a sudden warm feeling around her hand. Remus had intertwined his fingers with hers. She turns her head towards him and they lock eyes. There’s a hopeful glint in his eyes. He turns his body a bit to face her and leans forward. She closes her eyes in anticipation for their first kiss when a strong gust of wind swoops their way. It sends a strong shiver down her spine and immediately kills the moment as she curls into herself and unintentionally moves away from Remus.

“Cold?” He whispers. It’s soft but there’s a light growl indicating he’s bummed. He sits up and grabs another blanket from his bag and unfolds it.

“This should hel-“

“What is this Remus?” It comes off much harsher than she had anticipated but she hardly had time to think before she spat out the words. She thinks maybe it would have been better to say any of the things she had been thinking before he went in for a kiss but she’s quite flustered. She’s fallen for Remus years ago and her feelings grow stronger every time they see each other. She just wants more clarity on what is going on between them and she’s growing impatient about it.

“What?” A panicked look crosses his face. “It’s a blanket...?” He tries.

“No Remus, I mean this.” She sits up and gestures to her surroundings. He furrows his brows in confusion. “Well, you’ve been planning these elaborate and romantic nights where we hold hands and do couple things and I have so much fun every time and I feel like we get along really well and I really like you, like I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else because you’re so kind and caring and thoughtful and funny and you smell good and you have nice hair and you’re the only person I want to take home to meet my parents and then kiss in my room afterwards.” She rambles out in one breath. Remus chuckles with a look of pure delight on his face as (y/n) pants completely out of breath, cheeks tomato red from the blunt confession.

“Do I have to wait until I meet your parents to kiss you?” He asks. She can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“Please don’t.”

He cups her cheek before leaning forwards and softly placing his lips to hers. It starts slow and tentative but quickly develops into a desperate kiss as they make up for years of lustful temptations. Remus places a hand behind her head and one on her waist and guides her down onto the blanket as she hums softly in encouragement.

“Woooooo!”

“Finally!”

“Yeah Mooney!”

The cheers echo on the lake as Remus and (y/n) jump apart in surprise. They spot another boat on the water with three boys in it. Remus shakes his head as Sirius jumps up in excitement which sways the boat so far that Peter falls in the water. Peter pulls on the boat until it capsizes and soon there are three heads bobbing in the water.

“Merlin, I can’t with those three.” Remus shakes his head but his adoring smile says otherwise. “This is your final chance to back out. I can’t even take you to my quiet place without them interrupting.” He points his thumb towards the three who are now bickering on how to turn the boat over.

She places her finger on her chin pretending to think about it. “Hmmm, I think the benefits out weigh the consequences” She concludes.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” he says as he fills the space between stopping before their lips meet and quickly jerking back. “Just to be clear, I like you too.” He blurts with a panicked face and hands out to stop her from leaning forward.

“I’m happy we got that cleared up.” She smiles wide. “Now get back here.” She whispers as she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in for another kiss, the sound of the boys yelling fading out as the kiss deepens.

[the-last-cuddlebender]

Blood In A Blacklight

Katara has a criminal empire to run, a family to protect, and plenty of shadows from the past who want to tear it all down.

Part 1: The Wind Howls (1/2) - She has him back, and everything should be perfect now, but it’s not. She’s more worried than ever. And she hasn’t slept in days.

********************************

A/N: Mafiosa!Katara and Gaang™ gang because I want it and am willing it into existence. Basically took “Sokka and I, we’re your family now” and made my take on a bending-mafia-families AU lmao

Words: 1,748

********************************

Katara punished her book for the weather and nearly tore it when she flipped the page. The words blurred again. She glared, hoping to become a firebender and burn a hole through the damn thing.

The door opened without a knock, and the frame of her vision shook, bordering on crimson. Mercy was still a foreign concept, and nearly ninety-six hours awake had mutilated her ‘moral code’ into watery dough. A few twitches of her fingers closed her hand around veins and arteries, but her bending recognized her intruder’s old blood and fresh wounds before she could register why her power wasn’t listening. It was worse than a tranquilizer. Worse than chloroform in a black alley. Aang’s heartbeat pinned her to her seat and ripped out her fangs like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Katara remembered that time was a thing that would still pass whether or not she kept breathing. Fresh rain met the wall of windows behind her. Her thumb dragged over the ear of the page. She crawled into the dull thump of his heartbeat and sank into her chair, hiding in his rhythm like it was a cave.

The soft click of the door startled her like it was a strike of lightning, stuttering her breath and rallying her instincts to probe for the nearest skein of water. She shifted, impatient for him to be closer, waiting for enemies to burst from the shadows.

She re-read the same paragraph until he limped — badly, on the left side — to her desk. He paused, thinned Katara’s sanity, and sat in one of the leather chairs across from her. His silence filled the room with static. The full moon taunted her with power for all the wrong problems. The storm put a distance of hisses and low rumbles between them, bleating her pulse against the drums of her ears.

“What are you doing?” Aang gently asked.

Katara propped her head on her fist, her voice like paint peeling from the side of an old ship. “I’m reading.”

“You’ve been staring at that page for seven minutes.”

“I’m reading slowly.”

“You’re sulking.”

She almost looked up. “I am not sulking.”

“And now you’re lying.”

Something made a spark, and Katara slammed her book, still open, on her desk. “I am not lying.”

Her almost-shout did things that the thunder could only dream of, but before Katara could retreat, Aang leaned forward, onto her desk, mirroring her posture and leaving inches between their faces. It brought the smell of the wind in his clothes, and his element tickled her frayed hair from her cheek. His presence was warm. In every way. Warm hues, warm feelings, warm heartbeat, warm memories—

It took longer for the crimson to leave her vision this time. The thin wound wasn’t the worst, but it was the most noticeable, crawling across his face and over the bridge of his nose like a comet touching from beneath one eye to under the other. It was a bleach-white horizon that his eyes sat just above, but what he leveled her with didn’t allow her the freedom to consider her to-kill list in detail.

Katara had been shot, captured, tortured, ransomed, and used as a bartering chip far more times than she dared to remember, but even oceans would part for the look that Aang gave her when she tried to dance around the truth with him and win. She scowled, not that it helped her. Intensity clouded his eyes in a smokescreen, and grey irises darted in short, sharp glances that wouldn’t have been noticeable if he was any further away.

Katara’s finger itched to turn the page. Aang’s breathing had been steady, but when he exhaled again, closing his eyes, it took the strength out of his shoulders and kicked her in the chest.

“You promised you would stop looking into this.”

Katara snapped the book shut and set it aside. “I told you to stay away from the hospital.”

“I had to see her. And you went there, too.”

He didn’t mention a name, but still, Katara’s nails dug into her hands and threatened to draw blood. She seethed, but her fire didn’t phase him. Always him. Only him. Even in her office she was powerless.

Lips pulled into a tight line, she took a calming breath and held it, waiting for it to start working. Aang didn’t look away. His smokescreen was looking more like a storm and shone lightning like steel blades clashing.

She knew what her glare did to good men, and she knew it didn’t work on him, but she looked away all the same. Her eyes found the book, and the pins and needles from her held breath suddenly became the cold gasps of a child who couldn’t run fast enough. She saw the splintering of ancient wooden doors and the darkness that spilled from them. She felt the ice of new irons and the strain they put on growing bones.

And the screams. There should have been screams…

Katara blinked and was back in her office, greeted by the sheets of bullets on her windows and the warm heat of Aang’s attention. She looked at him. He was the same as her gaze had left him.

She didn’t mean to sound so defeated, but she was so tired of losing. “What were you thinking, Aang?”

“Katara, you’re scared and angry and hurt and I get it, but you don’t have to save me anymore. I’m right here.”

“I can’t sit by and do nothing. If I don’t fight for you, then no one will.”

She had seen men recoil from a bullet through the heart, but Aang caught himself just before the stage of crumpling to the ground. His gaze dropped, staggering to her necklace and then to her desk. “…I guess you’re right.”

Katara scrambled to pick up his pieces. “That’s not what I—”

“I know.” He splayed his palm, pretending to read the lines. “You didn’t mean it.”

Lightning lit up the room, like a picture being taken. Katara combed back her hair, fiddling with her low ponytail, and gave up trying to keep her empty hands occupied. “Can you just—” She grabbed the air like she could hold onto the problem. “Can you just promise me that you won’t do something like that again? Please?”

It was the closest she had ever — ever — come to begging, but Aang kept his eyes on his palm. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I’m not one of your goons to boss around,” he said, still without looking up, though his brow furrowed with a small crease.

“At least they know their limits. None of this would have happened if you had just let me handle it. This is my family, and that includes you, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t belong to you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because you need me, too,” he said, with a soft voice that could shake a stadium. “And I might just be a speedbump to knock you on your ass and make you think twice before you do it anyways, but you’re my family too.”

The silence yawned, hissing with a thick but fine sheet of rain. If it weren’t for her desk, Katara would have hugged him. Probably. Doubt opened a pit in her belly, and her throat threatened to seal shut. Instinct and intuition went to war and left her with the sinking feeling that touching him would just prove how far away he was.

Aang still didn’t look up from his hand. Katara tried to find the right words and, more importantly, how to say them, but all she could manage after so many years of lying was a tender inflection of his name. “Aang…”

“They made me forget your face,” he said, deflating like saying it out loud finally made the scars real. His voice was watery, broken on the last vowel, and took a sledgehammer to Katara’s chest. “And now you…” He gestured. “Now you’re there and I’m here and…” The word died. He paused, then dragged his eyes up to hers. “You think of them when you look at me, so I see them, too. They scare me. And now you scare me. And I don’t want to be scared of you because I don’t want to stop looking at you. But it scares me. A lot.”

“I…Aang, I’m sorry—”

“I know. I know,” he said as he stood. His eyes roamed her empty desk, trying to find something of hers and settling on the book, which broke what was left of him. “…You didn’t mean it.”

Katara stood, but the desk was still in the way. “Aang, wait—”

“I'm going to take a walk to…,” he trailed, more in his own thoughts than in her office. “…I’ll get Zuko so you don’t worry.”

She should have gone after him. She should have done something, but her legs were pillars of cement. The door bled fluorescent yellow light into her twilight and took him, in his red and orange robes from across the world, with it.

Something cold crawled out of the old attic of where her heart was supposed to be. It cracked, weaving thin white scars — like his — in a web across her vision. She braced herself on the desk. There was nowhere to hide. No heartbeat. Not even a wound to distract her with its pain. She closed her eyes and bared her teeth and wished she had the strength to cry without him. Just this once, without him. She was so full and so empty and on the verge of combustion—

Something broke, something small, like a cornerstone, and Katara plopped into her chair. She breathed just like he taught her and eventually rubbed her face. Her bones ached. Everything ached. She was so tired of losing. She just wanted to sleep without knowing that she would wake up, still stuck in her worst nightmare.

Thunder growled above the city. Katara picked up the book. It was blurry, no matter how much she blinked. She dragged her nail over the scuff marks, feeling the minute pilling of old leather like a topographic map of the past.

Aang’s absence reminded her why she was reading, but she wasn’t sure if she could anymore. The book took on the weight of a planet, her arms even moreso.

Realization dawned slowly, like a dog attack in slow motion. The thought was a shadow bleeding out of the tall grass to fill her stomach with ice.

She peeled open the pages, praying to whoever would answer.

It burned. It burned like fire never could. It ate her away from the inside out, like cinders consuming a dry leaf in the time it took to blink.

The raindrops became smaller, like a mist, and gently brushed the windows. Standing was a miracle, but Katara dragged her feet around her desk, falling into Aang’s chair.

It was warm, like his shadow always was. She crawled into the footprint his life left behind, imagining his heartbeat in the hug of plush leather and the smell of salt and sand that reminded her where home was. Katara told herself to breathe and sank into the reasons why. Her legs curled beneath her, like when she was a girl, back when she wore her mother’s dresses to imagine herself a hero and not in three-piece suits to mask bloodstains.

She read the book slowly, from the beginning again, trying to love even the words that hurt. When lightning struck, she held it closer, trying to protect it, even though she knew that she couldn’t.

********************************

.

.

Don’t know if I described it well enough, but Aang’s ‘scar’ (quotes because it eventually seals up into a thin line) is supposed to be like the bottom arch of the Yu Yan archers’ tattoos.

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

prussia x reader: silly squabbles

Hello, lovelies~ I was plagued by images of this dumbass and his general ridiculousness, so of course I had to write it all out. This fic is pointless, but I hope you enjoy anyway.

"You are really annoying."

"And yet, somehow, I'm not detecting any real annoyance. Wonder why?"

His words hung lightly in the air, gentle and playful, just shy of taunting.

You did your best to ignore them, trying to focus on your book. But his fingers were moving again, trailing over your back in an inconsistent pattern, heavy enough a presence to register, yet just light enough to torment.

You were sure, in some long-winded, ridiculous, roundabout way, he would blame you for this predicament- for not reading as fast as him, for not paying him enough attention during a lazy day in.

Regardless, you tried to focus on the passage at hand, rereading the same paragraph for the tenth time now as he teased a particularly sensitive spot near your ribs.

He wasn't quite tickling you- not yet- but the shifting tempo and pressure all played upon the obvious threat.

Only mildly irritated- really, you were too familiar with his shenanigans by now to ever be truly annoyed- your focus landed on the bookcase, the only immediate target for your long-suffering gaze. "Do you mind?"

There was a hint of pride in his voice as he answered, a cockiness at successfully distracting you. "Nope!"

His fingers- now having tasked themselves with massaging more than teasing- paused between your shoulder blades. "Why? Do you?"

Rather than allow him another victory, you huffed quietly, pointedly making an effort to lose yourself once more in your book. "No... Not at all."

If he was amused by your answer practically being ground between your teeth, he made no indication of it. Instead, he resumed his massage, keeping his palm mostly flat against your spine, adopting a steady rhythm that lulled you into some semblance of security.

You allowed yourself to relax, turning your attention fully to your tale, praying he would at least let you finish this chapter in relative peace.

It was a hope to be short-lived alas, his posture shifting, bringing him near enough to read over your shoulder.

You were far too invested to truly pay him any mind, but then he was hovering near your temple, fingers drifting ever closer to your neck, once more dancing in that maddeningly light way which he employed solely in effort to agitate you.

You knew what he was doing, and you'd be damned if you'd let him win; summoning every ounce of self-restraint within you, you purposely, blatantly, chose to ignore him.

It took only a few moments for him to acknowledge your determination towards defiance (a few torturous moments where he had started tracing his nails against your hairline and whispered some of the passage aloud), his huff of displeasure bring you a small taste of sweet, sweet victory.

You would have been naive to think he had given up, knew it would be foolish to assume, to dare to presume, that he didn't already have other strategies in mind.

What you couldn't guess, regretfully, was exactly which plan he would attempt next.

When he sat upright once more, leaving you to lounge peacefully on your stomach, you unwisely surmised that he was actually finished with the whole affair, that he'd grown bored, that he would actually leave you to your novel in peace.

Feeling him shift back to the head of the bed, hearing him tapping away at his phone- these factors allied with his distance away from you all allayed your worries, letting you escape once more to the realm belonging to the pages before you.

The temporary tranquility was somehow less than simply fleeting; it had scarcely existed at all.

Not even five minutes had passed, and you felt teasing fingers once more, now grazing ever-so-softly against the bare skin of your ankle.

A jolt of panic fueled your reflexive movement away from him, your legs kicking, book falling to the floor in your surprise.

You shot upright and fixed him with a glare, hoping to convey just how furious you were with him. "I swear to God-!"

The villainous grin on his face revealed vanity in its purest form, and it did nothing to reduce your resentment.

Scowling now, and forcing yourself into an upright position, you narrowed your eyes at him. "What do you want, asshole?"

He was quiet for a moment, by all appearances still savoring his triumph. But then his smile shifted, the self-satisfied smirk falling slowly into something softer, fonder.

It took you by surprise, sent a stutter through your pulse, all irritation rapidly transitioning into confusion. "What?"

He shifted forward, leg bending beneath him as he drew closer.

Suspicious, but not too concerned, you offered an unimpressed expression, relaying your distrust. "Gil?"

There was a flicker to his smile, but it was soon replaced by something far more serious, his eyes languidly studying your features.

Briefly, more a passing fancy, you considered teasing him for his sudden quiet, yet there was something too tremulous tormenting him, and you dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, instead offering your concern. “Teuton?”

Whatever spell that had held him within its grasp was finally dismissed, his head cocking to the side and a considering tone coating his next words. “You love me, right?”

It sounded innocent enough, and his behavior certainly suggested no ill-intent. But you knew him, and knew all-too-well not to fully believe in it. “Is that a trick question?”

You made sure to keep your words only just on the side of playful, but tempered with enough sincerity to assuage any possible self-doubts that may be afflicting him.

It was clearly the right approach, the left corner of his mouth only just hinting at a smile, a familiar spark almost tangible in the air. “It’s a simple question, Liebling. No need to sound so suspicious!”

You felt your eyes narrow as you studied him, his wording only heightening your wariness. “You know- The fact you feel you have to say so really isn’t winning you any points here.”

His grin was back at that, disorienting in its intensity, just enough that you nearly forgot his previous grimness. “I’m just asking if you love me, mein Schatz. ‘Snot like I’m asking you to sell me your immortal soul or something.”

You neglected to point out how those two things were near one and the same, instead choosing to offer a faux sincerity. “Oh no, you’re right. I hate you so much,” you quipped, each syllable oversaturated in sarcasm.

He scoffed, melodramatically pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning down just long enough to rescue your book from the floor, marking your page and setting beside you on the comforter. “I’m sure your pride will be just fine."

“I dunno…” His words trailed off, and you could make out the distinct, irritating sound of him sucking on his teeth. “I think it may be mortal this time.”

You decided to play along, content to lose yourself in the absurdity. “Oh no,” came your reply, emotionless a tone as you could muster, in spite of the smile playing on your lips. “How could I possibly live with myself?”

He hummed, running a finger over his chin as if he were seriously considering it. “You’d probably take my fortune, settle somewhere warm.”

You fought a laugh, unsuccessfully. “Mm, definitely. Have sordid affairs with all the cabana boys and the waitresses.”

“Sing drunken renditions of Mamma Mia during karaoke night.”

“And I’ll adopt some ugly, exotic pet that I insist travels with me everywhere.”

“Only after your third husband disappears after mysterious circumstances, of course.”

He was only half-serious, and you couldn’t resist raising an eyebrow in mock offense. “Only three?”

Your question made him snicker, his eyes shining in amusement, but he didn’t continue the exchange.

Several moments passed, and with them the lingering ridiculousness of the “argument” faded away. There were many of these odd backs-and-forths, all somehow sillier than the last. The quiet was just as pleasant though, and you embraced the comfort it carried.

That was, until, he was biting his lip in thought, his amusement long abandoned.

Concerned, you shifted closer, studying his features carefully. "Gil?"

His eyes were glued to some distant place you couldn’t see, miles and centuries away from the here and now. “You do love me, right?”

“Of course,” you replied almost reflexively, still taken aback by the sudden shift back to solemnity.

“Really?” His eyes turned to yours once more, unguarded, open, a haunting fragility shining in them that made your heart clench inside your chest.

Wherever this insecurity came from, you wished you could rid him of it, tear all traces of it from his psyche, make it so he would never question his self-worth ever again.

As it was, you did what you could, lifting his hand to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to his ring, meeting his gaze as you lingered against the silver. “Would you be wearing this if I didn’t?”

There was a smile, the one you fell in love with: fond, slightly shy, just a little cocky. “Good point.”

You couldn’t help but feel as if something was still off about him however, something bothering him that you couldn’t even hope to guess. “Why do you ask, anyway?”

He took to studying your features again, his free hand rising to trace his fingers softly against your cheek. His eyes were warm and gentle, posture completely at ease. His words however-

“Sometimes I can’t believe this is real, or how lucky I am; some days I swear you’re just a figment of my imagination.”

His words carried an almost unbearable amount of loneliness, layered among disbelief and adoration. They triggered several different emotions within you, stirring them into a frenzied muss of affection and sadness, leaving you breathless.

Several potential reactions came to mind, but were all dismissed as you weighed his words, compared them to the relaxation of his shoulders, the familiarity as he languidly brushed his fingertips behind your ear, lightly teasing your scalp.

You could easily surrender to it, could already feel your own posture relaxing with each steady shift of his fingers. Still, you weren’t quite ready to abandon your prior playfulness, offering a haughty hum to prelude your reply.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m very real.” You felt a passing smirk flicker to life for a moment, blazing brightly before it was gone again, sober sincerity settling once more in its place. “You’re stuck with me, Beilschmidt. Forever…” you finished in an elongated stage whisper.

He breathed a laugh, the slightest hiss, his grin irrepressible now. His tone, however, mimicked nonchalance. “Eh. There are worse things, I guess.”

The tease was impossible to ignore, especially as that all-too-familiar deviousness was taunting in its own right.

You tried to keep your words accusatory, but they came out entirely too fond. “You’re a dick.”

He smirked, offering a half-hearted shrug.

“Guilty,” he sang, almost entirely too proud.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, he was cradling both of your cheeks, and before you could guess at his next move, he was shifting forward, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But I’m a dick who loves you very much.”

Thanks for reading!

[unimooshi]

Christmas Fluff Snippet Megapost

(brought to you by your host Mooshi bc I’m stuck at home and wanna procrastinate cleaning my room :) )

Rated: G/Fluff

Relationship(s): Literally as many I can think within the span of 3 hours as they’re all basically 1 paragraph long. Feel free to read whichever ones you want I’m making word soup rn. We smackin’ tonight kings, queen, and royals in between😌😭✨

All relationships can be whatever universe you want, unless stated otherwise. Have a good time

Also please keep in mind that I haven’t read a lot of the comics and have a limited knowledge on the cartoons bc I haven’t watched some of them, but I’ll try my best to write out the dynamic as I see it.

1) Starscream/Optimus (StarPrime) you knew we were gonna start with OTP

“I know you wanted to visit Earth for a small vacation, but did you really have to choose the coldest of Earth months to visit?”, Starscream said with borderline disgust as he stared at the snow at the bottom of their ship, the only redeeming thing about the environment was the setting sun.

He kneeled down and scooped up a pile of snow, watching it crumble away between his digits. His internal heating system kicking into overdrive to compensate, little puffs of steam floating into the air. It wasn’t that it was cold, the issue was how wet it would be. The mess that would be made inside their circuits and the water dripping from exposed wiring made Starscream shiver.

“No, I didn’t have to but Earth has such a happy culture this time of year and I wanted to share that with you. I think you’ll like Christmas. Cheer up, let’s take a walk.” , Optimus planted a small peck on the side of Starscream’s helm and stepped outside, the soft crunch of snow following the Prime.

Starscream reluctantly stepped into the snow and groaned with how much water his sensors were already detecting, “How happy could this holiday possibly be with frozen condensation falling from the sky and getting into your circuits?”

“Well, according to what can be found on the internet, it’s an annual religious festival, but most humans use it as a time to see loved ones and celebrate their love for one another.”, Optimus took Starscream’s servo and interlaced it with his own, removing his battle mask to reveal a soft smile with blue optics to match, “and besides you can take a warm lather in the washracks later while I warm up some energon. I know you like watching Earth movies every once in a while.”

Starscream really couldn’t argue with his conjux and just vented out more heat, the puff leaving a trail of white steam as it floated into the evening sky. If being on a mud ball planet meant Optimus would be relaxed then he supposed it would be worth getting his circuits drenched for. Honestly, doing anything was worth it if it meant his Prime would stop thinking about his responsibilities even for just a cycle.

“Your strobes are blinking by the way.”

Starscream stopped walking and flapped his wings into view then dipped them low, brushing it off.

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t.”, Optimus rolled his optics and laughed, holding his conjux’s servo a little tighter.

———

2) Knockout/Breakdown (KOBD)

“Merry Christmas Knockout!”, Breakdown burst into the Medbay with a clumsily wrapped box.

Knockout nearly dropped his datapad and jumped from the sudden intrusion, his servo switched out for his buzz saw until he saw who it was.

“Breakdown!”, Knockout vented out and transformed his servo back, “Don’t scare me like that so suddenly.”

“I’m sorry, but I just wanted to finally give you this. I knew you just had to have it when I saw it and I really hope you like it.”

“All is forgiven. Thank you.”, Knockout casually tore away at the wrapping and lifted the lid, his optics glowing brighter.

“Well...do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!”, Knockout unfolded the white stripe vinyl inside to it’s full length, laughing with a full smile, “You always know just what to get me!”

He put his gift down on the examination table and went to go hug his conjux, climbing up a little to properly plant a kiss.

As high as the mood was brought up, it was quickly shot down again.

“Wait, I’m not done with your gift yet.”, Knockout left for his datapad and scrolled through something.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to give me one. Your company is the only gift I need.”, Breakdown tried to comfort his conjux, but Knockout held out a servo to stop him.

“That’s a sweet sentiment, but it doesn’t feel fair if I had my gift before yours is even done and I don’t want you seeing it while it’s incomplete.”

“I’m sure I’ll like it even if it’s unfinished. The thought matters more than what it is. Can you tell me what it is?”

“Are you sure?”

Breakdown nodded excitedly.

Knockout sighed and handed over the datapad, “It’s only about 75% of the way done, but it’s a transcription of that Earth book you wanted to read but couldn’t find an online PDF version of it.”

Breakdown scrolled through the pages of words and felt his frame melt.

“I know it’s not as good as what you gave me but—”

“I love it!”, He lifted Knockout off the ground and squeezed, “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome but watch the paint!”

———

3) Bumblebee/Blitzwing (TFA Blitzbee)

Bumblebee wasn’t one for snow to be perfectly honest. Sure, making snowmen and having snowball fights with Sari were fun, but he mostly did those activities to make her happy as her best friend. The frosty windows on the base served as another reminder as to why he liked to stay inside where it was warm and there was plenty of oil to drink, so it was rather ironic when he started seeing a mech who could make ice and enjoyed just burying himself in the frozen stuff.

“Come outside my little bee~”

Random sang softly and taunted him from outside the Autobot base. The heat from Blitzwing’s system fogging up the window further. Everyone else in the base had retreated back to their rooms for the night, leaving Bee free to do what he wanted in the living room. At least, he would be if there wasn’t a giant beige and purple bot trying to get him outside.

“No way Blitzbrain. It’s beyond freezing out there. I’m not locking up my servos just so you can eat street snow again.”

Bumble whispered harshly and opened the window, a gush of frozen air creeped their way through the cracks of his frame. His central heating system kicked online.

Random’s glossa slithered out of his intake, “Aww why not?”

“Because it’s gross. And that’s saying something when it comes from me!”

Vrrrr.

“I suppose that’s true.”, Icy’s lips pouted outward as he pressed his digits to his chin. His sharp features standing out in the crisp darkness of the night, “But aren’t you the one always wanting to go out? Why is it so different this time?”

“Because time impossible to drive in snow and I don’t wanna deal with traffic.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“So?”

Vrrrr.

“So why don’t you want to come out here and spend some time away from this stupid base you tiny bug bot!”

Bee held a digit to his intake, “I’m right here idiot, you’ll wake everyone up and then they’ll see you and then we’ll have to fight.”

Vrrrr.

“You’re afraid of the snow aren’t you.”

“What? No. That’s not—I’m not afraid of it are you kidding me? Only sparklings are afraid of stupid things like that.”

“Ok, so you just don’t like the cold.”

“So what if I don’t?”

“Even if you can’t drive, it’s still a nice night for flying.”

Bumblebee’s optics widened, “Flying?”

“Yes. Calm winds, clear skies, no organics or bots in the streets, what more could you wait for?”

“You’re gonna take me flying?”, Bee’s voice rose in pitch and he looked up at his mechfriend with stars in his eyes.

Vrrrr.

“If you keep repeating the same thing I’ll crush you with this wall!”

Vrrrr.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen something go splat!”

Random laughed at his own morbid thought.

“Ok, first of all, don’t crush me. You’re like three times my size, you don’t need a wall. Second, as long as I don’t have to get my servos wet I’ll be there in a nanoklik.”

Bumblebee gave a quick peck before racing away to touch himself up a little for his small impromptu date.

———

4) Megatron/Soundwave (MegaWave)

Megatron was busy. Again.

Soundwave didn’t mind it much as he just worked on his reports, but deep in his spark he really hoped he would’ve made some time to be with him. There was no such luck unfortunately. Soundwave knew his leader was always busy which is what made their small times together all the more special and intimate. Nobody ever saw the side of the warlord that he did and he was quite proud of that. It made him feel special.

>Soundwave.

A private communication line blipped open from Megatron. What convenient timing.

>Yes, Lord Megatron?

>I need you to send a message to Shockwave about the latest export of energon. There will be a delay because of Autobot meddling, but it shouldn’t take more than a couple earth cycles to have everything in order.

>Message received. Will be sent as soon as possible.

>Good. By the way Soundwave, I’ve left something for you in your desk compartment. Consider it a token of my appreciation for all you’ve done staying loyal to the Decepticons.

>Understood. Thank you Lord Megatron.

With that, the line cut off and Soundwave was left alone again in the communication center. His optics glanced over at the large compartment in his desk and opened it. Inside he found a small stack of datapads and one single use datapad filled out.

—

‘To: Soundwave

Silent as a thief in the night

You crept into my spark and took flight

Your visor so full of mystery

Yet take away much of my misery

In war there is treachery

In war there is loyalty

No words could ever be strung to say how much you mean to me

Merry Christmas,

From Megatron

—

A/N: I’m done with this post. Whoop. 4 short stories in one post. This is all I could crank out in a few hours. I didn’t anticipate this day to be so busy for me😭😭. I’ve been hanging out with family and dropping off gifts for friends at their door step. You can kinda tel I gave up at the end and poems aren’t really my thing. I’ll finish the rest tomorrow, so just pretend that whatever I post tomorrow was done today. Tell me what you think and have a nice night. I’m gonna pass out now. Mwah.

AND YES WHEN I WRITE MEGS IN ANY FIC HE IS A MUSHY BASTARD WHEN HES NOT AN ASS HAT AND THATS ON SOFT BASTARDS😌✨✨

[kibybun]

Hi. Can I ask you to write about Aizawa or Hawks and their darling, who constantly joked about death and eventually she committed suicide, please? I love your writing💞 You are so awesome and talented and cool. Thank you so much for your work💕

Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I hope you like it!💞💞

Platonic Yandere Hawks x suicide joking reader

Tw: Yandere, suicide, self harm, angst

Enjoy!

💛Hawks first met you at the sports festival, showing off your quirk and demonstrating power. You caught his attention rather quickly.

💛Not only were you adorable but intriguing as well. You wore long sleeves, even though you looked uncomfortable in them, and you seemed oddly quiet compared to everyone else, shying away when they come up to talk to you.

💛Another thing that stood out to him was when you were doing the calvary battle. No one came to ask you to join their team, but you didn't go out and ask to join either. You just stood there until a purple hair guy came up to you, most likely getting you to join his group.

💛Though, you seemed to change. Your fighting style and the way you use your quirk changed.

💛It bothered Hawks the whole calvary battle but he was put at ease when some kid with a tail backed out due to the other guy brainwashing him.

💛You end up backing out too, much to Hawk's dismay.

💛Even though you weren't fighting anymore he still keeps his attention on you, not seeing your other classmates or students.

💛He watched you zone out and silently cheer for your classmates, finding it adorable as you watch in awe at some of the battles.

💛The sports festival ends and he follows you home, only to make surd your okay. Once he got home he quickly put in a request for you to come intern with him before going to bed.

💛When you went back to school you were excited to see if anyone wanted you to intern with them, knowing you wouldn't get as many requests like Todoroki or Deku.

💛... two. Only two requests.

💛It hurt to look at the board and see that you one of the most unwanted students in class 1-A. You thought you did really well and maybe impressed more than two people.

💛You get your list of hero agencies and sink deeper into your self pitty when you realize that one of the agencies werebt even specifically asking for you. All the students got requested by them.

💛That leaves Hawk's agency.

💛You didn't know much about him and his work so this was going to be awkward.

💛When the day came to board the subway and head off to your internship, no one wished you goodbye. All the groups and clicks were together, walking each other to their respective trains while you again, stood alone. You ere used to it though.

💛You board the train and zone out, nearly missing your stop.

💛Right as you get off the train your vision is filled with red feathers. Low and behold the pro hero who requested you.

💛His charisma hits you as you instantly feel welcome. He makes witty remarks about the train being too slow as he begins walking with you in tow.

💛Along the way you ask him why he wanted you to intern with him. He smirks and responds with a "Why wouldn't I?" That didn't answer your question.

💛He walks you to his agency and introduces you to all his other interns. After that he shoves you towards the bathroom, telling you to change into your hero costume.

💛He sure didn't waste time as the two of you begin patrolling the city. It seemed very rushed and eager but you prefered it over having to sit in class and do quizzes.

💛During patrol Hawks starts questioning you about school and life almkst like an uncle or brother would. It was very odd to you, considering you never get asked questions about yourself.

💛You felt so pitiful not being able to tell him your birthday, you had forgotten it, but somehow he was so understanding and kind about it.

💛It wasn't long before all of his fans flocked to the two of you, shouting questions and begging for autographs. You didn't like how all the people were surrounding you and Hawks could tell.

💛He uses his wing to shield you and hastily shoos the crowd off. After that he asks if you're okay and checks to make sure you didn't get hurt.

💛His intentions weren't to sleep with you, no. They were pure. He almost saw himself in you, alone and blocked off from the world. He just wanted to protect you and make sure you knew you weren't alone.

💛It was working too.

💛In the short week you were with him you had laughed the hardest you had in awhile and smiled more. You even considered him your bestfriend.

💛The one downside of your friendship was he couldn't see your cries for help.

💛While one roofs or flying with him you'd make jokes about how easy it would be to fall and die or how fun it'd feel to free fall.

💛He'd only laugh these off, thinking it was some kind of dark humor, because if something was wrong he'd trust you to tell him.

💛When the internship was over you had to hold back tears as he hugged you goodbye. Of course he gave you his number to keep in touch but it wouldn't be the same as sneaking away from work and eating fried chicken.

💛The second the train left you felt how alone you were. You didnt want to text him right away because that would feel too needy. Should you even text him? Was he doing it just to be nice or did he actually care?

💛You leave those thoughts behind as your phone buzzes. It was a text from Hawks. "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

💛Your mood brightens as the two of you continue sending dumb chicken jokes, memes, and puns, with the occasional "dark humored" joke from you.

💛You make it home and your texting slowed, mainly due to Hawks having to work. You didn't know he was actually flying outside your house, making sure you were okay before flying off to buy you a dumb looking teddy bear.

💛Slowly, your mood begins to brighten with the constant reassurance of Hawks being there. He knew the right things to say at all times. Self conscious about your outfit? Incomes a barrage of compliments and confidence boosters. Nervous about a test or presentation? Boom, paragraphs about how amazing you are and how you can do it.

💛It almost made the emptiness inside go away.

💛Problems don't just go away, and it really shows.

💛Whenever you couldn't text or call Hawks your loniness sinks in. You had no other friends besides him. Your parents weren't the beat either with their comments about what you're doing or what you're wearing.

💛It only reminded you of all the reasons for the scars on your arms.

💛But before you could act on those reasons he was there. It was always magicly when you were crying in bed or fumbling with a sharp object.

💛Over time Hawks picked up on your thoughts and feelings, causing him to watch over you every second he could. He loved you so much, he couldn't lose you.

💛The amount of cute gifts he gets you griw over time. More stuffed animals, more snacks, more little trinkets. Anything to make you happy.

💛And again, it worked. The nights you spent crying or staring numbly at the ceiling slowly decreased. You also threw away the razors you had hidden, determined to stay clean.

💛When the work studies came you were the happiest you've ever been. You got to be with Hawks again.

💛Upon seeing him you were greeted with the best hug you've ever gotten along with fried chicken for lunch.

💛But something was off this time. He seemed a little more paranoid walking around the city with you, more eager to be inside at night, and disappearing at night.

💛It worried you, making you overthink the hole situation tenfold.

💛What if he was trying to avoid you? Where you being that annoying? Maybe he was tired of you. You should just leave him alone.

💛He hugs you goodbye as you leave, still conflicted.

💛Sadly your thoughts only grow stronger as time goes on. His texts become shorter and less frequent, making you think he was tired of you. His constant gifts had stopped as well

💛Hawks couldn't control his lack of contact with you. He wanted to spam you with memes at two am like he normally did but he was given a mission that couldn't be compromised, even at the expense of your friendship.

💛You fall back into your dark place without him. You were reminded of how forgettable you were to everyone, how you had no friends beside him, how your parents were disappointed in you.

💛What's the point in living in pain?

💛You start cutting again, just wanting to feel something again. You stop sleeping and eating, not feeling the need for it anymore. You completely passed out during training due to this.

💛One weekend you ride a train away from your town and into the one where Hawk's agency was. You were looking for him, a sign, anything, to tell you to stop.

💛The streets were empty and he was no where in sight.

💛You fight yourself at the top of a business building, hands trembling as you sent a final text to your only friend. You told him how much he ment to you, how grateful you were to him, how sorry you were for being annoying and taking up so much of his time, how this was goodbye.

💛You got to feel the wind rush past you. You were right about it being fun to free fall.

💛Hawks was talking to Dabi when his phone buzzed. Thinking it was the commission he checked it.

💛Dabi watched as Hawk's smug demeanor turned to confused then broken. He watched the pro hero fall to his knees and clutch his phone, nearly cracking it.

💛Dabi didn't even have a chance to ask what was wrong as Hawks flew at super sonic speed away from him and up into the sky.

💛He first scanned the buildings looking for you, wiping the tears from his eyes to try and see better. When he couldn't find you he swoops down low to the streets to see if he could catch you before you hit the ground.

💛He stops when he sees the splatters of your body of the ground.

💛He collapses next to you, sobbing as he looked at your remains.

💛It was his fault. He should've been there so much more. He should've watched you more carefully than he did. He should've killed those fuckers who thought they were better than you.

💛You should've lived.

💛Hawks lays there crying, going over all the things he did wrong and how it should've been him to die.

💛The morning comes and police officers tape off the area, pulling a now broken man away from you. They clean the area and leave.

💛Hawks mindlessly sits in the spot you were in, hoping this was a nightmare.

💛Night falls and Dabi managed to find him. He tells Hawks that he saw the news. It was odd for him to feel sympathy for a hero but here he was.

💛Hawks stands and grabs Dabi's hand, placing it on his face before begging him to set him ablaze. He didn't want to live in a world without you.

💛Dabi backs up, retreating his hand and looking at him stunned. What exactly did you mean to him?

💛Hawks continues to beg and pleas but Dabi continues to refuse. Too bad Hawks would do anything to die at this point.

💛Hawks shouts out his plans to spy on the league, to manipulate and destroy them from the inside. How he would kill them all in secret if he could. How it would be the best feeling ever to watch them die in betrayal.

💛Dabi falls for his trap. Rage was the only thing he could feel as his fire engulfed Hawks, semding him to the grave in a firey blaze.

💛He ran from the scene, leaving another body in the same spot.

kiby~💚