#if there are any specific characters or genres that you’re looking for then feel free to send me another ask and i’ll hunt smth down!!!

[wyngigi]

ꕀ LUST FOR LIFE ꕀ 03

↳ sex money feelings die remastered .ᐟ cross posted on ao3

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“ they say only the good die young, that just ain't right 'cause we're having too much fun, too much fun tonight ”

↳ synopsis: a group of individuals find that their first taste of freedom in the world brings more obstacles than expected. some of them, find solace by drowning in liquor or in the backseat of somebody else’s car. a lot of them have got to get their shit together. a lot of them won't.

mdni » story contains nsfw content intended for 18+ audiences pairings » member specific, not listed for spoiler purposes ↳󠁪󠁪 ateez x female reader, ateez x ateez ↳ genre » coming of age ↳ word count » 3.3k ↳ general warnings » substance abuse & consumption, sexual content, morally grey characters, unreliable narrators, internalised homophobia, angst, basically every struggle young adolescence can go through ↳ chapter warnings » description of sexual activity while under the influence of alcohol and drugs, mention of sexual activity being filmed (with dubious consent due to intoxication) ↳ a/n┆timeline clarification chapter one is the aftermath of the party that mg, wy, ys & san talk about going to in chapter two, and this chapter (three) is the actual party this story will contain many events that are written out of chronological order im sorry its who i am

03⌇the absolute fucking irony

College parties. Young adults burdened by the struggles of growing up with too much access to liquor and a whole lot of free will. Glass bottles litter the kitchen island, empty cans crushing under people’s shoes no matter where they step.

A certain variety of liquids have been splashed and spilt onto the floors, forming several small puddles. Every room is dimly lit, courtesy of the crappy party lights sending rays of colours out, splaying onto the crowds of people below. Columbia parties, where the music never stops blasting and the room can’t stop spinning.

Tonight is no different. You’re somewhere in there, lodged deep in the collection of sweaty intoxicated people just as fucked up with a cup in hand. Everyone rocks back and forth against each other, bass boosted music drowning out any audible voices. Some others are spread out, chatting, screaming, leaning on any available surface with their almost blacked out friends by their side.

Liquor is sloshing around in the guy’s cup in front of you, splashing onto your arm. Rolling your eyes, you turn away from him wiping your arm before downing the rest of your own cup. The songs playing blast into your ears almost deafeningly as you close your eyes, intoxication making your head spin.

You’ve been here for just over an hour, drinking, dancing, drinking some more. You’re five drinks deep now before opening your eyes to spot your friend. She’s tipsy too, talking to an equally wasted new friend of hers. That’s a lie, no talking is happening there. Definitely more than friends too. You call out her name, locking eyes with her through the crowd, shooting her a thumbs up.

Julie grins, playfully waving you off as she snakes her arms around the boy’s neck opposite to her. You can’t see his face, but you do have faith in her, she’s the picky type.

When the music changes to a slow song, you take a chance to get a breather, and a refill. Tumbling as you make your way to the kitchen you spot a familiar head of tousled brown hair. He’s on his phone, typing with one hand as he runs the other through his hair. He hasn’t spotted you yet, so you head over to the opposite side of the island shuffling through the glass bottles, making just enough noise for him to look up.

Like clockwork, he does and ushers you over with a brief tilt of his head. His teeth are on display as a sly grin plays on his lips. You give him one back, picking up an unopened bottle of Pink Whitney before you make your way over to him.

Setting your empty cup and the bottle down, you lean the side of your body into the counter to stabilise yourself. The marble is cold, pressing into your stomach yet you pay no mind to it. “Having fun?” He teases eyeing how you sway slowly, more than a little out of it. Your eyes are glazed over, and he gives you a once over before mirroring you, hip digging into the counter as he crosses his arms.

Kim Hongjoong, former pretentious rich kid turned even more pretentious angsty tortured artist. Most importantly your favorite dealer, and if it matters to anyone, an excellent fuck.

Several piercings decorate both of his ears, and a small but mighty metal ring is lodged in his lip; it shines despite the low lighting. His eyelashes are long, fanning over his bloodshot eyes. His hair is chopped roughly in the front, purposely grown out in the back. It suits him, his whole brand is that type of messy yet put together all the same. The effortless rockstar vibe if you will.

The speakers are still blaring off in the distance, but the kitchen is somewhat far enough that you only have to raise your voice a little to hear each other. “Definitely a whole lot more now,” you chide. He hums in agreement, hand finding its way to your waist as he leans behind you to grab a bottle off the shelf. The metal rings on his fingers are cold, but you lean into his touch regardless.

The proximity between you two closes in, a combination of woody and musky tones hits you, flooding your senses. It’s a mix of marijuana and, his cologne. It’s welcoming, familiar.

“You don’t look drunk enough to be here,” you poke a finger into his chest, leaning up to look at him. He shakes his head, mullet brushing against the collar of his jacket. Hongjoong’s hand leaves your waist as he moves to face the counter, twisting open the bottle as the seal pops quietly. “Night’s young, pretty,” Hongjoong jests, filling up his cup, “Don’t stress, I’ll catch up soon.” You nod, silently agreeing as you move to take his cup from his hands. He allows it, eyes never leaving yours as you take a sip from the drink. It burns a little at the start then it goes down easy. Fitting.

The liquid leaves a shine on your lips that catches the light. Hongjoong’s eyes flicker down, cursing under his breath quietly at the sight as you look up at him. Your lips always looked so enticing to him, and he can’t help but appreciate the view now. It’s also welcoming, and even more familiar.

Hongjoong maintains eye contact with you, holding up the bottle you brought over in his hands between the both of you. It’s a silent question. You scrunch your nose, accepting his offer while nudging your cup towards his direction on the counter.

You step away from each other as he refills your cup, not too far but just enough so you can continue drinking comfortably. The glass bottle clinks against the countertop when he sets it down, pushing it off to the side. You rest your forearm down to cradle your drink, feeling a warm hand creep its way on top of your empty one. His hand isn’t much bigger than yours, and you smile at the chipped polish on his pinkie. Next time the two of you meet, you’ll be sure to give it a fresh coat.

You turn your head to look back at him and find him doing the same. The music seems to fade as the two of you lock eyes before a small grin cracks out on his face, the hues of red and blue lights blend, purple cascading over his features instead. You huff out a small chuckle, breaking away from his gaze. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, eyes searching the crowd for Julie just as a new face approaches Hongjoong.

The boy glances at you momentarily, lifting his drink up to you before greeting the other opposite you. “Yo man, you got a new buyer out front.” Hongjoong nods, lips pressing into a thin line as he leans off the counter. His friend notes the hand that still hasn’t left yours, eyes gesturing between the two of you. Hongjoong winks in confirmation. When he looks back to you, he’s grabbing your wrist to pull you closer to him. Leaning in, he whispers, “Text me, yeah?”

His breath is hot, fanning on your face while his lips just barely drag over your cheek as he pulls back. It heats your whole body up even once he’s already left.

Yeosang escapes quickly from the blonde who had approached him, now entering the backyard of the house. Mingi and his new roommate haven’t arrived yet, and just as anticipated, Wooyoung’s got his tongue shoved down some girl’s throat against a wall already.

He’s nursing a cup of clear liquid that he thinks could be some form of cheap tequila, but he drinks almost anything (unlike Mingi, rich prick) so the thought is pushed aside. Unfortunately, it’s not just the drink leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Something about tonight isn’t clicking for him, the music isn’t quite right, and no one has piqued his interest to look at more than once. This weekend is being spent similar to the many before, and he would usually hope for it to end the same as well. Let Wooyoung loose to drink to his heart’s content, make sure he’s gotten more than comfortable with someone, then find his own someone for the night. Girls and guys alike have shot him subtle smiles and flirty waves, yet none are what he’s after.

By chance, it could have something to do with seeing his roommate with an arm slung around some girl. For the sake of his sanity and to not be a total buzzkill tonight, he’s pretending that’s not the case. Making another thought get pushed to the back of his mind.

Columbia parties also aren’t his usual go-to. The parties are fun don’t get him wrong, but only later in the night. It’s when the crowds really build, and he lets loose till he can’t feel his face. He’s arrived far too early, thanks to a certain someone. He curses Wooyoung for being too eager during their pregames, Yeosang hopes and prays for his friend’s hangover tomorrow to be an absolute bitch.

He spots a group of familiar people playing spin the bottle, but he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough for that yet. Yeosang feels a buzz in his pocket, taking another gulp before reaching for his phone.

mingi: san n i 2 mins away

pls tell me u n wy aren’t wasted already

yeosang: can’t say he isn’t

im ok tho

mingi: knew it , c u soon Yeosang continues scrolling through his notifications before a much taller figure appears next to him.  He knows exactly who it is by height alone. Yeah, one hundred percent not nearly drunk enough to deal with this right now. Being drunk would also not help though. Yeosang wishes the boy was standing a little further away because he looks like a puppy right now. A really cute, really kissable drunk puppy.

His cheeks are tinged red and the tips of his ears match. Yunho grins, leaning close into the other’s face, pupils darting between his. Yeosang’s breath hitches, “Yunho, you good?” he asks, stepping backwards as quick as he can.

He nods slowly, “Mhm, doing great. What’s got you looking so down though?” Yunho singsongs, absentmindedly shuffling from foot to foot. Yeosang hums in response, “Just not feeling too great tonight.” Yunho tips his head back to finish off his drink, Adam’s apple bobbing. Hell, why does this guy have to be straight? Yeosang’s lost in thought before he hears Yunho retort, “Like what, no one to get your dick wet for you arrived yet?”

“Well, in another universe maybe!” Yeosang thinks to himself, instead he replies by shaking his head, hair covering his eyes slightly. This is not the type of conversation he wants to have with his roommate. He turns away from the boy to scan the crowds of people in front him, only to regret it when he spots the girl who was with Yunho earlier continuing to eye fuck him.

Before he has to make more small talk with him, he spots Mingi and who he assumes is San trailing behind him shuffling through the small groups in the backyard. Mingi’s eyes are wandering through the people, filtering for a familiar face.

Yeosang raises his hand up, giving a short whistle as he calls them over. Mingi was right, his new roommate is far from ugly. If his friend didn’t already have an obvious crush on the boy, Yeosang would not have been objected to having a taste of him, mostly to wash out the sour aftertaste someone’s mere presence has somehow brought him tonight.

“Yeo! ‘Sup, Yunho. This is the new roomie here,” Mingi pulls Yeosang into a side hug, patting him on the back. Yeosang raises his brows, shooting the boy a knowing look before whisper-yelling, “He is cute.” Mingi shushes him immediately as Yeosang turns back to the others. San stood further away finally steps forward towards the group. He waves to both of them, “San,” he tells them with a tightly lipped smile before looking around over each shoulder. The shy type, antsy. Cute.

Yeosang speaks up, “Hey San, did you um-” He holds up his own cup, “maybe want a drink or? Mingi’s been here before so he can take you to the kitchen, if you want.” The boy mentioned nods, “Yeah, c’mon,” going to move back towards the kitchen before San interjects, “I’ll uh, grab a drink in a bit. There’s someone I kind of need to look for first.” Mingi blinks slowly, furrowing his brows as he locks eyes with Yeosang.

San looks between the two, licking his lips as he stammers out a cue to leave.

“If you’re thirsty you can go ahead, I’ll catch up soon,” San’s voice trails off as he hurries off in another direction, leaving the three where they are. Yunho pays little mind, still dozed off with too many drinks in his system. Yeosang mouths, “You good?” towards Mingi just as he has to fling his arm out to catch his roommate who's starting to lose the ability to stand straight.

Mingi sighs, biting the inside of his cheek as he looks off into the crowd. He decides there in that moment, yes, he will in fact, be getting a drink. Yeosang catches the look of defeat in the boy’s eyes but before he can silently plead with his eyes for him to stay, Mingi is turned around already.

Yunho slings his arm around the younger’s shoulders, swaying them both to the slow song playing in the distance. He snickers to himself, shaking his head. Yeosang chews his bottom lip, “What’s so funny?” The boy shrugs, looking pointedly at Mingi disappearing into the crowd, head of black hair still peeking out above the others. “Isn’t San kind of oblivious, Mingi clearly wants to rip his clothes off.” Yeosang deadpans for a moment, the absolute fucking irony.

Seonghwa is more than a just little on edge right now. He’s just about to walk into a party that he knows he should not be at, first because he’s rostered for a shift tomorrow at the crack of dawn. Secondly, his friends are excruciatingly good at encouraging him to drink. Something he’d happily entertain even with the promise of a shitty hangover.

That was typically the case, right up until four hours ago when he knocked back the last few pills from his second script of oxy. Without counting how many to actually take.

And finally, he also kind of freaked out after actually seeing the now empty orange bottle, so he had texted his friends that he would be coming tonight after previously opting out. Not that he’s an addict or anything, but withdrawal can be a bitch, or so he’s heard. Anyways, that’s the background for why he’s standing in front of a fraternity house with some artsy alternative looking drug dealer, handing him a wad of cash.

The two of them talk for a bit, letting Seonghwa know he’ll throw in some free ecstasy just for his pretty face. The guy is pretty hot, so Seonghwa thanks him with a flirty smile as he shoves the plastic bags in his pocket.

If you aren’t too familiar with the wonderous world of opioids, specifically oxycodone, here’s the 101. Number one, only take it exactly as prescribed by a healthcare professional. Number two, never mix it with alcohol (or any other depressants for that matter).

His mind is on absolute overdrive right now, studying for exams, picking up extra shifts, he’s there early in the mornings and working closing ones too. The combination of these things are giving him a measly two to three hours of shut eye at most on the daily.

The party lights are beginning to flash in his eyes so much they’re seizure inducing and he’s ready to start drinking so every thought running in his mind just slows down. So he does. He starts slow, letting his friends fill his half empty cup of soda to the brim with vodka.

Eventually it gets to like, three quarters liquor then he decides to take a break. He’s not that irresponsible. Seonghwa knows he has to control himself. He’s also spitting complete bullshit if you couldn’t tell. Seonghwa had gone straight to shots after his solo cup had been emptied the first time. Alcohol doesn’t hit him too bad, but when the oxy does hit instead, it hits hard.

If he wasn’t so out of it, he’d probably be describing some pretty fucked sensory details right now. The party lights becoming brighter, but not hurting him anymore. The walls waving back and forth, starting to swirl. Or melt, the pills definitely kind of mess with some visual receptors if you can’t tell already.

Seonghwa lets out a small laugh as the music’s beat begins pounding in his chest. His breath staggers as the faces of the people surrounding him begin to blur and his arms and legs start to tingle a little. He’s happy, he feels okay now. Actually, wrong. It’s even better. He’s on top of the fucking world.

Whatever happened to Seonghwa from the moment his dopamine surged to the rest of the night can’t be recalled from memory now unfortunately. Fragments of his time at the party (and a personal, very private after party) however could instead be pieced together thanks to all the new photos and videos captured by his phone. It started off pretty tame, him screaming butchered versions of lyrics to songs, dancing and whatnot.

Then there’s a clip of a bathroom stall, white powdery lines on the metal toilet paper dispenser with some guy’s voice in the background. Then there was more dancing, which developed into PG-rated snippets of some form of grinding with a pretty boy who kind of reminds him of a puppy. Then as you continue to scroll you’ll find a video taken from the back camera, albeit a little shakily, of him walking down a faintly lit street hand-in-hand with who he thinks is the boy seen in the earlier videos.

They’re both extremely wasted, their words slurring as they stumble onto a familiar pathway that leads back to his dorm. (He also confirms both guys from the previous memories are the same person from his clothes and voice). It’s cute, in a way. They’re giggling and knocking into each other accidentally. The time stamps between that video, and the next few are just over ten minutes apart. The rest of the clips are short, but they paint the picture of their next encounters pretty effectively.

And that’s putting it lightly, Seonghwa basically made a fucking sex tape.

It’s lewd and provocative in every way, including anything and everything that a person could think of. Kissing, moaning, heavy breathing, broken gasps, his own high-pitched whining. The echoes of skin slapping against skin is apparent in almost all of them. The ones without it are replaced with the guy’s low, throaty groans. They were filmed by him too, pointing the back camera towards Seonghwa, who's looking up at him through a half-lidded gaze, awed expression as the boy swipes his thumb across his raw bitten lips.

The next morning, he wakes up naked to an empty bed. Once he finishes watching over everything captured in his phone, Seonghwa puts them into the hidden album in his gallery. His hangover feels like hell, so he begins scrambling around his room to find his jeans discarded to the floor from last night’s shenanigans. There’s a messy pile of clothes (including what he wore the night before, still turned inside out from what assumes to be impatience) that he has to filter through before he finally does find them.

Digging his hand into every pocket, he manages to first find the fresh bag of oxy and with more searching, the other bag too. As expected from whatever the fuck he did last night, that one is definitely pretty empty.

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[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Hi!! What are some of ur favourite lines from some of ur fave fics that u have read on here?? And what r some of ur favourite fics I am in dire need of new reading materials on tumblr and I trust ur taste so much 💚 I hope u have a great day and I hope this isn’t any pressure!

HI ANON !!!!!!!! my brain is . physically incapable of following my commands so i don’t know if i can recall any exact lines at the top of my head :’3 i know for a fact there r hundreds but . my brain Cannot compute . as i’m writing this i’m remembering one actually nevermind. ”and your body is his and his body is yours. he's seen it in the mirror a thousand times. the skin is the same, the hair, the scars. there are parts of his life he wishes he could give to you.” from teeth; gum; metal by @/mossmotif genuinely changed my fucking life it wrecked me entirely and i’m never not thinking about it. anyway.

AS FOR FICS THOUGH …. i got an ask a while ago that wanted me to spread some love by making a list of my favorite fics that my mutuals have written, and i’ve been working on that one for a while now!! :3 still haven’t posted because there are some moots whose writing i haven’t read yet and i’d hate to make anyone feel left out …. but i’m getting there!!! it’s . already very very long. in my defense my mutals are the second comings of shakespeare. if you’re looking for good writing genuinely just hunt down my moots. they’re insane in the head (affectionate)

but yeah !!!! since you’re on anon i can’t exactly let you know when i answer that ask (unless you’d like me to tag you, in which case you’re more than welcome to shoot me a dm!!), but i promise you i’ll get to it!!! in the meantime….. have an ao3 rec <33333 it’s one of my favorite suguru fics Ever . and characterizations of sugu :3 this is my gospel.

alive, still - heeful

[dcafanzine]

We’ve been getting a lot of asks about what the application process will look like and what to do, so here are a few tips that should help you out! (This is not required reading if you’re looking to apply, but it might help!)

When you’re applying for a spot on the DCA fanzine, we will be asking to see examples of your existing work. You might be wondering what would be considered a good fit, and which of your existing pieces to choose to show off in your contributor application.

NOTE: PLEASE do NOT create pieces you are intending to submit to be included in the zine itself as part of your application! Zine pieces are to be created by contributors in the three month period following their being selected to be on the zine. We cannot guarantee you a spot, so please don’t burn yourself out trying! There will be other chances!

(Oh, and please ensure viewing permissions are on when you’re sharing any links in your application, so we can see your work!)

Now on to the fine details …

For all applicants:

This zine is a celebration of our beloved celestial jester(s), the daycare attendant(s) - you will need to submit at least one example piece in your application (preferably more) that features these characters, with depictions of them in a canon-adjacent* form being a huge bonus.

Pieces submitted in your application should ideally be safe for work, as this will be a safe for work zine. This zine isn’t playing to a specific mood or genre, so feel free to go wild with depictions of fluff, angst, horror, etc. so long as these fit broadly under the PG-13 rating. Shipping ideally shouldn’t be the focus of every example provided either as this zine will not be specifically focused around romantic ships but more on the character(s) of the daycare attendant(s) themselves.

A limited number of AU spots will be available but in order to accept AU works as final pieces in this zine we request that you must either be the creator of the AU, or have express permission from the AU’s creator.

*Canon-adjacent here doesn’t mean the depiction has to be biblically accurate, just that the design should not differ so substantially from what would typically be recognised as the DCA to essentially be a separate character. This fandom is intensely creative and we love and applaud the originality of the many different variants of the DCA, but this zine aims to focus primarily on canon-adjacent depictions, with a limited number of slots for AU content as well. Having canon-adjacent depictions of the DCA will massively help round out your application for this zine!

For some positions, you will be asked to give 1-3 idea pitches, with at least one idea pitch being required. Pitches should summarise what you might be thinking of creating for the zine, showcasing your creativity and helping you brainstorm ideas for what to make if selected. Your pitch will be especially useful if you are hoping to write or illustrate any AU content, to give us an idea of what sort of thing you expect to contribute. Your pitch may be on the longer or shorter side depending on what you prefer, just as long as it illustrates the idea(s) you are aiming for. If you are selected, you will not be required to create the idea(s) you mentioned in your pitch, and will be able to change your mind on what you wish to create for the zine at a later point.

For writers:

We are looking for around 5 writers to join this zine. Upon being selected to be contributors, writers will write a short self-contained story (around 1.5-2k words) which will be illustrated by the spot artist they pair up with.

What we’ll be looking for in a writer application is readability (how well the example writing submitted for the application flows and how easy to follow it is), pacing, vividness of characters (characterisation of Sun and Moon in this fandom tends to vary a lot, so we’ll be looking more at consistency and imaginativeness here!), and how engaging the example writing is, as well as the ability to wrap up a short story. For this reason, while excerpts reaching around the 2k mark will be happily accepted, at least one of the examples should be a self-contained story or scene that fits within (or close to!) the word limit listed on the application form!

For page artists:

We are looking for around 23 page artists to contribute to this zine. Once selected as contributors, page artists will create a full page illustration featuring the daycare attendant(s) for the zine. A page illustration should fill the space on the page nicely and play to your strengths. This could be a coloured illustration depicting one or multiple characters with a background, a neat photograph of a sculpture or traditional piece you’ve made, or even a nice neat one-page comic! So long as it fits nicely on the page without compromising its quality, it will likely make a great fit for the zine!

What we will be looking for in a page artist application is composition (how elements in the example pictures submitted for the application like the background, props, characters, etc. work together), atmosphere (how the example pictures build a mood), creativity (unique and quirky representations and ideas!), and the level of polish the example pieces have (so overall how neat and nicely finished they look). At least one example provided will need to have a full background (so something containing complex background elements or designs or scenery, like a room or a scene).

For spot artists:

We are aiming to have around 5 spot artists for this zine. Spot artists will be paired up with writers, illustrating smaller scenes written for the zine. The mood of these pieces might vary greatly, but should match the tone and content of the writing.

What we’ll be looking for in a spot artist application is how well their example pieces convey a particular mood and/or feeling, as well as how well they present a scene in a smaller space. The example pieces submitted might not need to be as detailed or polished as those required by full page artists, but should be just as expressive!

For merch artists:

We will be looking for around 2-3 merch artists for this zine. Merch artists will design merch to go with the zine when it potentially hits certain sales targets. Prior experience making merch is greatly preferred for applicants applying for this role.

What we’ll be looking for in a merch artist application is the ability to make neat, simple designs that translate well as physical and digital merchandise.

Hopefully that clears a few things up - and please don’t be too daunted by all the details or feel you have to play perfectly to all of the ideas given above, every single one of us is different and the most unconventional of application pieces might be just the thing we need! This is just to make the application process a little clearer for anyone who’s nervous about what to submit. If anything is still a little unclear, please feel free to send us an ask on our Tumblr or CuriousCat!

[amethystarachnid]

FEAR

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony "Tony" Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst, fluff, a little spicy

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5k

ᯓ★ TW(s): spicy kisses, reader is insecure

ᯓ★ Request: Hii, tony stark x reader + friends to lovers, please? 😁 with smut if possible 😁😁 ( @ts-rdj-reader)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

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ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier lover click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language, feel free to correct me kindly please

You’re sitting in the lab at Stark Tower, watching Tony work, and that’s when it hits you. It’s not like some dramatic, slow-motion moment where everything clicks into place with fireworks in the background. No, it’s quieter than that. Subtle. Almost sneaky. It’s just Tony, as he always is: focused, slightly manic, throwing out sarcastic comments that make you roll your eyes, but secretly smile.

“Y/N,” Tony calls out, not even looking up from the holographic display in front of him. “Are you going to just stare at me all day, or are you going to actually help me with this? You know, contribute something to society?”

You blink, startled out of your thoughts, and immediately feel your cheeks heat up. God, were you really just staring? What is wrong with you? You’ve never been this… distracted by him before. Not like this.

“Sorry, I was...uh...thinking,” you lie, trying to shake off whatever weird realization is buzzing in your brain.

Tony doesn’t even glance your way. “Thinking? That’s dangerous. Especially in here. I’m trying to build a reactor, not accidentally blow us up because your mind is somewhere else. Come on, get your head in the game, Y/L/N.”

You force a laugh, hoping it sounds casual, but it feels strained. “Right. Reactor. I’m on it.”

As you move to join him, you do your best to shove down the sudden burst of awareness that’s decided to rear its head today. You and Tony? No. That’s ridiculous. He’s your best friend, your boss, and, let’s be real, way out of your league. He’s Tony freaking Stark, billionaire genius, walking chaos, with charm and charisma that have landed him just about any person he’s ever wanted. He doesn’t do serious relationships, and he definitely wouldn’t look at you like that.

Would he?

No. Don’t even go there. You can’t afford to let your mind wander down that path. It’s dangerous. It’s… stupid.

Still, as you work side by side with him, your eyes can’t help but flicker to the way his hands move, quick and precise, always in control, always tinkering. You think about the way he makes you laugh, even on your worst days, or how he checks in on you when he thinks no one’s looking, dropping off coffee at your desk without saying a word. There are the little things too, the inside jokes, the quiet moments after long days of saving the world, when it’s just the two of you, sitting in companionable silence.

It’s all those things that have started to pile up, one after the other, until suddenly you’re drowning in this feeling you can’t quite name...Or rather, one you don’t want to name. Because if you name it, if you admit it, it becomes real. And once it’s real, it’s going to wreck everything.

“Y/N,” Tony’s voice cuts through the thick fog of your thoughts, and this time, he’s looking right at you, his sharp brown eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What’s up with you today? You’ve been weird for the past hour.”

You freeze, panic rising in your chest. He’s too perceptive for his own good. Damn it. “I’m not being weird.”

“Yeah, you are.” He crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head. “You’re quiet. You’re never this quiet. Spill it. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You flinch, knowing if anyone could see through your defenses, it’s him. He always has. That’s part of the problem, isn’t it? He knows you too well. He’ll see right through any lie you come up with, any excuse you make. And once he does… what then? He’ll realize how you feel, and you’ll become just another awkward footnote in the complicated history of Tony Stark’s relationships. Except this time, you’ll lose the best friend you’ve ever had.

You clear your throat, scrambling for something to say. “It’s just… work stuff. I’m fine, Tony.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his gaze heavy, as if he doesn’t believe you. And why would he? He knows you better than anyone. But finally, he relents, letting out a sigh and turning back to the reactor prototype in front of him. “Whatever you say, Y/N. But just so you know, your poker face? It sucks.”

You swallow hard, laughing a little too loudly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm, but there’s an undercurrent of concern there too, one that makes your heart tighten in your chest.

It’s not fair, how easily he can make you feel like this. How just being near him makes your pulse race and your stomach twist. You’ve always known Tony had a way of getting under your skin, but this? This is different. This is worse. Because now, you’ve fallen for him, and there’s no coming back from that.

But you can’t let him know. You won’t.

For the rest of the day, you force yourself to be as normal as possible. You joke with him, laugh at his ridiculous quips, and do your best to avoid those moments when his gaze lingers on you for just a second too long. It’s torture, but you manage to keep your cool...Barely. By the time you leave the lab, you’re exhausted, both mentally and emotionally.

As you step into the elevator, your mind is still spinning, replaying every little interaction with Tony, overanalyzing every look, every word. Did he notice? Does he know? God, if he figures it out…

Just as the doors begin to close, Tony’s voice calls out from the hallway. “Y/N, hold up.”

Your heart jumps into your throat as he slips into the elevator with you, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say anything at first, just presses the button for your floor and leans back against the wall, arms crossed, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

The silence between you feels thick, heavy with unspoken things. You want to say something, anything, to break it, but your mind is blank. For once, you can’t find the words, and it terrifies you.

Finally, Tony speaks, his voice quieter than usual, a hint of something serious lurking beneath the sarcasm. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

He shifts his weight, turning to face you fully. “Whatever’s going on with you...It’s not just work. I know when you’re stressed about work, and this… this isn’t that. So, what’s really going on?”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. He’s giving you an opening, a chance to tell him the truth. But you can’t. You can’t risk it. Not when there’s so much at stake.

“I’m fine, Tony,” you say, your voice a little too firm. “I promise.”

He watches you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes, and for a second, you think he’s going to push further. But then he just sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Alright. Fine. Be mysterious. But if you ever decide to stop being a stubborn ass, you know where to find me.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open to your floor. You step out, feeling like you’ve just dodged a bullet, but as the doors close behind you, you realize something else: this isn’t over. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s only going to get worse.

Because no matter how hard you try to hide it, you’re already falling for Tony Stark. And it’s only a matter of time before everything falls apart.

Tony Stark isn’t exactly known for being emotionally in tune. Sure, he’s brilliant — genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and all that — but when it comes to feelings, he’s about as clueless as they come. That’s probably why it takes him a while to notice that something’s been off between you two lately. Not off in a bad way, just… different.

For weeks now, he’s felt a strange tension hanging in the air whenever you’re around. You’ll be sitting side by side in the lab, working together like always, and suddenly, there’ll be this silence that feels loaded with something neither of you are acknowledging. He’ll make some sarcastic comment, and instead of your usual sharp comeback, you’ll just give him this soft, lingering look that makes his chest tighten.

At first, he brushes it off. Maybe you’re just distracted. Maybe it’s stress. Hell, maybe you’re sick of his company. But then, one night, it hits him.

It’s after midnight, and the two of you are still in the lab, burning the midnight oil as usual. You’re both tired, but you don’t want to leave until the project you’re working on is at least somewhat functional. Tony’s sitting on one of the stools, scribbling down notes on a piece of paper, while you’re across the room tinkering with one of the prototypes. He glances up to ask you something, but the words freeze in his throat.

You’re standing there, bathed in the soft glow of the workshop lights, your hair slightly tousled from hours of working, your brow furrowed in concentration as you carefully adjust the wires on the circuit board in front of you. There’s a faint smudge of grease on your cheek, and the sleeves of your shirt are rolled up to your elbows. It’s nothing new, he’s seen you like this a thousand times before, but something about the moment feels different.

His breath catches in his throat, and for the first time, he really sees you. Not just his best friend, not just his partner in crime, but you, funny, brilliant, stubborn, always ready to challenge him, always pushing him to be better. His mind races back over the past few months, and suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The long nights spent together, the easy banter, the way his heart seems to race when you’re close to him, how he finds excuses to hang out with you even when he doesn’t need to… and the way he misses you when you’re not around.

Oh, no.

He’s in love with you.

Tony almost laughs at the absurdity of it all. The great Tony Stark, falling for his best friend? The same man who’s spent years avoiding anything remotely close to a serious relationship, and here he is, head over heels for the one person he can’t afford to screw things up with.

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you for a moment longer, his heart pounding in his chest. You look up, catching him staring, and for a brief second, something flickers in your eyes, something soft, almost vulnerable. But then you look away, brushing your hair behind your ear, and the moment passes.

“Hey, genius,” you call out, breaking the silence. “You gonna help me with this or just sit there staring at me like a weirdo?”

Tony snaps out of it, shaking his head as he tries to clear his thoughts. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he says, hopping off the stool and walking over to you, determined to bury this newfound revelation under layers of sarcasm and work.

He can’t deal with this right now. He’s Tony Stark, for god’s sake. He doesn’t do feelings.

But deep down, he knows there’s no escaping it.

For the next few weeks, everything changes. Well, sort of. You and Tony still hang out all the time, you still work together, you still exchange your usual discussions, but there’s this tension between you now, this unspoken something that neither of you are acknowledging.

You feel it every time his arm brushes against yours when you’re working side by side, or when he makes some smartass remark and you laugh a little too hard, only to catch him looking at you with that same intensity that sends a flutter through your chest.

But you’re scared. Terrified, actually. You know how Tony is with relationships, he doesn’t do them, and even if he did, you’re not sure you could ever be what he needs. He’s Tony Stark, larger than life, always moving a mile a minute. And you? You’re just… you. How could you ever compare to the women who’ve come in and out of his life, the ones who are glamorous, confident, and, let’s face it, completely different from you.

So, you try to push your feelings down, bury them deep where they can’t mess things up. You can’t lose Tony. Not like this. You’d rather be his friend forever than risk ruining what you have by admitting you’ve fallen for him.

What you don’t know is that Tony’s going through the exact same thing.

He can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard he tries. He spends hours lying awake at night, replaying every interaction between you, wondering if you feel the same way, and cursing himself for not having the guts to find out. But he’s scared too. For all his bravado and confidence, when it comes to you, Tony’s terrified. He’s never had someone in his life like you before, someone who really knows him, sees him for who he is, flaws and all.

The thought of losing you? Of screwing things up and ruining the best thing in his life? That’s enough to make him keep his mouth shut, no matter how much it kills him.

One evening, after a particularly long day, the two of you end up in Tony’s penthouse, sprawled out on the couch, a bottle of whiskey sitting between you. It’s a familiar scene: just you and Tony, unwinding after a long day, laughing and talking about everything and nothing. But tonight, something feels different. There’s a charge in the air, something unsaid that’s been hanging between you for weeks.

You take a sip of your drink, your eyes wandering over to Tony. He’s sitting next to you, his arm draped over the back of the couch, his head tilted back as he stares up at the ceiling. There’s a quietness about him tonight, a kind of vulnerability that you don’t see often.

“You ever wonder what it would be like if things were… different?” he asks suddenly, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your tone casual, not wanting to give anything away. “Different how?”

Tony shrugs, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “You know, if we weren’t… us. If we were different people, with different lives. Maybe things wouldn’t be so complicated.”

You swallow hard, your pulse quickening. “What’s complicated about it?”

He glances over at you, and for a moment, you see something in his eyes that makes your breath catch. Something raw, something real. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone, replaced by the familiar smirk you know so well.

“Nothing,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “Just thinking out loud. Ignore me. I’ve had too much to drink.”

You bite your lip, your chest tightening as you try to push down the disappointment that’s rising in your throat. He was so close to saying something—so close to opening up, to finally talking about what’s been hanging between you. But, as always, he retreats behind his armor of sarcasm and bravado, and the moment slips away.

You lean back against the couch, forcing yourself to relax. You can’t let yourself get caught up in this. Tony’s never going to say anything, and neither are you. It’s just the way things are.

But that doesn’t stop your heart from aching.

The tension between you two builds over the next few weeks, until it’s practically unbearable. Every touch, every glance feels charged with unspoken words, and you’re both teetering on the edge of something you’re too scared to face.

It all comes to a head one night after a particularly rough mission. You’re exhausted, bruised, and still a little shaken from the close call you had out in the field. Tony’s even more on edge than usual, his temper flaring as he snaps at everyone around him, barking orders and refusing to listen to reason.

You follow him back to the Tower, watching as he storms into the lab, his face a mask of frustration and anger. You know him well enough to see what’s really going on—he’s scared. Tony hides his fear behind anger, always has, but you’re not about to let him shut you out.

“Tony,” you say softly, stepping into the lab after him. “Talk to me.”

He doesn’t look at you, just starts pulling pieces of equipment off the shelves, muttering under his breath. “Not now, Y/N.”

“Tony, stop,” you say, your voice firm as you walk up to him, placing a hand on his arm. “Whatever’s going on, you can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep shutting me out.”

He freezes at your touch, his jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper. For a

moment, you think he’s going to brush you off again, but then, suddenly, he turns to face you, his eyes blazing.

“You want to know what’s going on?” he snaps, his voice harsh. “Fine. I’ll tell you. I’m scared, okay? I’m scared that one of these days, I’m going to lose you. I’m scared that I’m going to screw things up, like I always do, and you’ll be the one who pays for it. And I can’t...” His voice breaks, and he runs a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I just… I can’t.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, your heart pounding. He’s never been this open with you before, never let you see this side of him. And suddenly, all the walls you’ve built around your heart come crashing down.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tony,” you say softly, stepping closer to him. “I’m right here. I’ve always been here.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and for the first time, there’s no smirk, no sarcastic remark to deflect what he’s feeling. There’s just Tony, raw and vulnerable, standing in front of you, his heart laid bare.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, before the doubt creeps back in, you surge forward, closing the gap between you in an instant. This time, the kiss isn’t soft or tentative like the first, it’s hungry, desperate, and filled with all the emotions you've been trying to hide.

Tony doesn’t hesitate. The second your lips crash into his, his hands are on you, gripping your waist firmly as he pulls you flush against him. His kiss is rougher, more demanding, his lips parting yours with a quiet groan that sends heat pooling in your stomach. You gasp into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that leaves you breathless.

Your back hits the lab table behind you, the cool metal contrasting sharply with the heat of Tony’s body pressed against yours. One of his hands slips down to your thigh, lifting it to hook around his hip, anchoring you closer as his lips move against yours with an intensity that has your head spinning.

His grip tightens on you, the kiss turning frantic as if both of you are trying to make up for all the moments you’ve avoided this, for all the tension that’s been building for months, maybe years. The way he’s kissing you, like he’s been waiting for this just as long as you have, makes your heart race even faster.

But then the weight of it hits you, everything this could mean, everything this could ruin.

You pull back sharply, breaking the kiss as your breath comes out in shaky gasps. Tony stares at you, wide-eyed, his expression a mix of surprise and something else—something you’re not ready to face.

“I—” you stammer, taking a step back, your mind racing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Tony takes a step toward you, his hand reaching for you, but you’re already moving, already pulling away from him and the mess of emotions swirling between you.

Without thinking, you turn and run.

“Y/N, wait!” Tony calls after you, his voice panicked, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. Your heart is pounding, your mind racing with a thousand different thoughts, all of them crashing into each other like waves in a storm.

What did you just do?

You practically sprint out of the lab, heading for the nearest exit as your heart thunders in your chest. You don’t know where you’re going. You just need space. You need to think. You need to breathe.

You run out of the building, the cool night air hitting your skin like a shock to the system. It’s a relief, in a way, the cold helping to snap you back to reality. But your mind is still racing, replaying that kiss over and over again. The way his lips felt on yours. The way his hands held you, like he was afraid to let go.

This was a mistake.

You tell yourself that over and over again as you walk aimlessly down the dark streets, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You and Tony, best friends for years, always dancing around something deeper but never daring to cross that line. And now? You’ve crossed it. And there’s no going back.

You shake your head, wiping at the tears that you hadn’t realized had started to fall. How could you have been so stupid? You’ve seen the way Tony treats relationships: brief, fleeting, never letting anyone too close. You were different. You were safe. And now, you’ve gone and ruined it.

The worst part? You know you love him. You’ve known it for a while, even if you’ve been too scared to admit it to yourself. And now that you’ve kissed him, now that you’ve felt what it’s like to have him hold you, you know there’s no turning back. But the fear, the doubt, it claws at you, telling you that you’ll never be what he needs. You’ll never be enough.

He’ll leave, just like he always does. And you can’t bear to lose him like that.

Tony stands frozen in the lab, staring at the spot where you just were, his heart still racing from the kiss. He can’t believe it, one minute, you were kissing him, and the next? You were gone.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His mind is spinning, replaying the way you’d pulled away, the panic in your eyes before you bolted.

He doesn’t know what to do. He’s never been good at this, at feelings, at relationships, at anything that requires him to actually open up. But you? You’re different. You’ve always been different. And now that he knows that you feel the same way, he’s terrified that he’s just blown it.

He should’ve stopped you. He should’ve said something, anything, to let you know that he’s feeling just as scared, just as confused, but instead, he let you run.

Tony paces the room, his mind racing. He’s not used to feeling helpless. In most situations, he’s the guy with all the answers, the one who can fix anything with the right tech, the right plan. But this? This is uncharted territory. He doesn’t know how to fix this. He doesn’t even know where to start.

She’s gone because she thinks it was a mistake.

The thought sends a jolt of panic through him, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. He can’t let you walk away thinking this was a mistake. He can’t let you walk away at all.

Because for the first time in his life, Tony Stark realizes he’s scared of losing someone. Not just anyone: you.

The next few days are a blur of avoidance, both on your part and Tony’s. You throw yourself into work, keeping busy with any project you can find. Anything to keep your mind off that kiss, off the way Tony looked at you like he might actually feel the same way.

Tony’s doing the same thing. You see him around, of course, you still live at the Stark Tower after all, and avoiding him completely is next to impossible. But there’s a distance between you now, a tension that wasn’t there before. It’s awkward, but neither of you say anything. Neither of you dare to acknowledge the giant, kiss-shaped elephant in the room.

Instead, you both retreat into your old habits. Tony leans on his sarcasm, cracking jokes that fall flat, while you throw yourself into your work, avoiding his gaze whenever you’re in the same room together. It’s like you’re both walking on eggshells, terrified of what might happen if one of you breaks the silence.

You hate it. You hate the awkwardness, the tension, the way things have changed between you. You miss the ease you used to have with Tony, the way you could just be you around him without worrying about anything else. But now? Everything’s different, and you don’t know how to get back to what you had.

Worse, you don’t even know if you want to.

Because the truth is, you don’t think you can go back. Not after that kiss. Not after feeling what it was like to have him hold you, to kiss you like he actually meant it. And that scares the hell out of you.

You’ve been in love with Tony for longer than you care to admit, but you’ve always pushed it down, telling yourself it was better to stay friends, better to keep things simple. But now, after that kiss, you can’t ignore it anymore. You can’t pretend that you don’t want more.

The problem is, you’re pretty sure Tony doesn’t want the same thing. He’s Tony Stark, he doesn’t do relationships, not serious ones, anyway. And even if he did… why would he want you?

That thought lingers in your mind, eating away at you. You’re not enough for him. You’ll never be enough. And that’s why, even though the kiss was everything you’ve ever wanted, you know it was a mistake.

It has to be.

It’s another late night in the lab, just like any other night. Or at least, that’s what you’re trying to tell yourself. But you can feel Tony’s eyes on you as you work, and it’s driving you insane.

You haven’t talked about what happened. You haven’t even mentioned it. And it’s starting to suffocate you.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You slam your tools down on the table, turning to face Tony, who’s sitting across the room, fiddling with a circuit board.

“We need to talk,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended.

Tony looks up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Talk about what?”

You give him a look, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know what.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair as he stands up and walks over to you.

“Look,” he says, his voice softer now, more serious. “I get it. You think the kiss was a mistake.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Tony holds up a hand, cutting you off. “But here’s the thing, Y/N. It wasn’t. At least, not for me.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you force yourself to stay calm, to not get your hopes up. “Tony, don’t—”

“No, listen,” he interrupts, stepping closer. “I’ve been thinking about this, about us, and I know I’ve screwed up a lot in my life. Hell, I’ve probably screwed this up too. But I don’t want to keep pretending that kiss didn’t mean anything.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been dreading, the moment you’ve been avoiding. And yet, you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Tony takes another step closer, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t know what this is, Y/N. I don’t have all the answers. But I do know one thing: I don’t want to lose you. Not as a friend, not as anything. So if you’re willing to take a chance on me… on us… then I’m all in.”

For a moment, you just stand there, staring at him, your mind racing. This is it. The moment you’ve been waiting for, the moment you’ve been terrified of. And yet, as you look into Tony’s eyes, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this is worth the risk.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” Tony says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

And in that moment, you know you can’t run anymore. You take a deep breath, stepping forward, closing the distance between you.

“I’m in,” you whisper.

Tony grins, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you into a kiss. And this time, you don’t run. You don’t push him away.

Because this time, you know it’s real.

“God, Y/N,” he breathes against your lips between kisses, his voice rough with need. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

The confession stokes the fire burning between you, and you kiss him harder, your fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt. He groans into your mouth, his hand sliding up your back, pulling you even closer as his teeth graze your bottom lip, sending a shiver of pleasure straight through you.

It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of losing control. Every kiss, every touch from Tony makes your whole body ache for more, and suddenly, you’re not sure you can stop this. You’re not sure you want to stop this.

But just as quickly as it began, a flicker of fear pulls you back. You break the kiss, gasping for air as you pull away slightly, your forehead resting against his, both of you breathless. Tony’s hands stay on you, his grip firm but not demanding, as if he’s giving you the space to decide where this goes next.

And in that brief moment, reality crashes back in, the weight of everything you’re risking between you. Your heart is racing, your lips swollen from the kiss, and every nerve in your body is screaming at you to give in, to let this happen. But the fear, of losing him, of ruining what you have, still lingers at the edges of your mind.

“I can’t lose you,” you whisper, your voice shaky, torn between desire and doubt. “Tony, I...”

His hand cups your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your lips, still damp from the kiss. “You won’t,” he says softly, his voice steady despite the heat still burning in his eyes. “I promise you, Y/N. You won’t lose me.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters, is enough to make you believe him. For the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe this, you and him, could work.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch, and with one last look into his eyes, you crash your lips back into his, giving yourself over completely this time. And this kiss? This one isn’t frantic. It’s deep, slow, and filled with the promise of everything that’s been building between you for so long.

Tony moans into your mouth, his hands roaming your body with newfound confidence, and you can feel the heat between you growing, spiraling out of control. His lips trail down your jaw, then lower, tracing a hot path along your neck that has you gasping his name.

This time, you don’t pull away. You don’t run.

You stay, letting yourself fall.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ♡ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

I don't know if I like this or not but well...here we are. If you liked it like, reblog and leave a comment if you want! <3

[devvelle]

Let it Snow

Genre: fluff, drabbles

Characters: Leona, Floyd, Azul, Idia, and Malleus x gn!reader

Scenario: sweet winter moments with them <3

Notes: most of these take place at NRC and reader is implied to be the prefect. no specific holiday mentioned, just winter coziness !

Leona, and cuddling by the fire...

Leona's been spending quite a lot of time with you lately. 

You hadn’t thought much of it, seeing as he appeared innocent in intention and didn't give you any reason for suspicion. But something still seems strange about his behavior, with the third year growing ever-clingier as the winter holidays approach.

Given this, you find it a bit odd that Leona makes no appearance as you run errands on the main campus today. As you make your way back to your dorm in the evening, you even question Ruggie via text–but he doesn’t have any idea where his dorm leader is, either. Nerves begin to settle in as you trudge through the snow, wondering where on campus he might be freezing to death.

However, all your questions are answered once you step foot into Ramshackle.

You make it no more than a few steps into the warm living room when a hand grips onto your wrist, pulling you around the couch before you can question what’s going on. Your attempt to shriek is stifled by a large hand, and rather forcefully you’re tugged down onto the lumpy piece of furniture. Dropping all your bags, you collapse inelegantly onto the trespasser; their snicker is one you’d recognize anywhere.

"About time you got back, herbivore."

Your fear turns into overwhelming annoyance almost immediately. Slapping his hand away with a glare doesn’t seem to phase him at all, though. He wraps his arm around you instead, pulling your legs over his lap with an annoying smirk. Albeit reluctantly, you settle into his embrace seeing as he clearly has no plans of setting you free.

Taking off your gloves you huff, “what are you doing here?"

“Heard Crowley had you running around. I wasn’t going to chase after you, so I sent your pet to go hang at some other dorm and waited here.” He punctuates his sentence with a yawn, showing absolutely no remorse for poor Grimm. You roll your eyes.

That’s when you finally take note of the state of your living room.

It’s undoubtedly much cozier than it had been when you left in the morning; wood crackles in the fireplace, a large candle spreads the faint scent of vanilla throughout the room, and several expensive looking blankets are laid out on the arm of the couch. You squeeze the hand he has around you, blinking at him warily.

“You did all of this?” 

“About time you noticed.”

Leona doesn’t give you a chance to say anything more, not that you even know what to say. He drapes a blanket over you both and pulls you closer, instructing you to sleep while he he tends to removing your shoes. The wood burns bright and the snow continues to fall as you relax in his embrace.

Winter vacation is imminent, meaning Leona will have to go home and face his family along with the complicated emotions he feels toward them. But your company is a reminder that the world is not entirely against him.

You can’t shame him for wanting to keep you close.

Floyd, and playing in the snow...

When you meet up with Floyd after class, his mood is clearly sour. He wears a deep-set scowl and his uniform is in more disarray than usual, but what most concerns you is his silence. 

He always has something to say, no matter what kind of mood he’s in. If he's happy, he'll let you know all about it. If he's mad, he won't let you go until you justify his emotions and whatever actions he took as a result of them. But as he walks you to your next class, your attempts to spark conversation are blatantly ignored. Something that's never happened before.

“Floyd, something wrong?”

“I dunno.”

“Oookay. Are you feeling alright?”

“Yup.” 

He pops the ‘p’ and silence settles between you once more.

Shoving your hands into your coat, you run through what else you can say, but Floyd isn’t someone who can be forced to cooperate. There's not a high chance you'll find out what's wrong, so your hands are pretty much tied.

But just as you reach the exterior hallway, you notice the flurries of snow cascading just a few feet away. Afresh layer of snow rests upon the grass, entirely undisturbed. An idea strikes you.

Looking around, you make sure that the two of you are alone in this section of the courtyard and it's all the motivation you need. Quickly, you jog over to the snow-covered ground while Floyd watches you silently, an impatient expression creeping onto his face. Crouching low, you ball up some snow. And your aim, for better or worse, decides to be perfect today.

When you turn and throw it at him, it hits him straight in the face. The snow falls to the ground comically as he stares at you with eyes full of disbelief.

He wants to be upset, really. But the words on the tip of his tongue are held back when he hears your laughter.

And before you can breathe a word of apology, he’s running toward you full-speed.

“No, Floyd. Stop! Wait-” You jump to your feet and try to back away, but it’s too late.

In the blink of an eye he topples you backward into the thick snow, leaving you struggling to breathe underneath his body weight. After a few smacks to his back, he places his arms by your head to hoist himself off of you, giving you a daring look. But his is hair covered in so much snow that you can't help but burst into laughter again. 

“What’s so funny?” He questions, knitting his eyebrows together with a pout. But his eyes are bright, and his mouth twitches with the threat of a grin.

You shake some snow from his hair instead of answering, which proves to be a bad choice as it falls directly onto your face instead. He laughs at you and rolls over, laying next to you in the now-disrupted blanket of white. You both turn your heads to look at one another expectantly, Floyd seemingly searching your expression for something while you helplessly smile back. With a huff, he ultimately turns his gaze to the clouds above.

“Ya never just leave people alone. Dontcha ever get tired of tryna fix everyone?” 

His voice is quiet, barely audible over the harsh whisper of the wind. He feels around for your hand in the snow, lacing his fingers with yours a bit too tightly once he finds it. Squeezing his hand back, you contemplate how to reply.

Ultimately, you settle with something simple. Something he'll understand.

“Well, you’re boring when you’re sad, Floyd.”

After a moment of stunned silence, he laughs brightly.

It’s carefree and infectious, and you have to take a moment to admire the way joy looks on him. Once you both recover, he sits up to shake snow from his hair, flashing you a maniacal smile and speaking cheerily.

“You have 3 seconds before I get ya, Shrimpy. Start runnin'.”

Azul, and shopping for gifts...

It only takes a half hour of gift shopping for Azul to start acting like he’s being tortured.

He was hesitant to accompany you from the start, but the moment you suggest he do some shopping of his own he seriously considers abandoning you. According to him, gift-giving isn’t one of his areas of expertise. Nor does he desire it to be.

Even so, you drag him from store to store until you find yourselves in the perfect holiday antique shop. As you walk ahead of him through the cluttered aisles, your conversation lands on gift ideas for the twins.

“You should get them something physical,” you stress, explaining yet again that a “holiday bonus” isn’t as thoughtful as he thinks it is. “Money is great, sure, but a thoughtful gift shows you care.”

Judging by the way Azul doesn’t argue this time, he must finally see some sense in your argument. Either that, or he realized he won’t win against you. You pick up a plastic snowman and he grimaces at its poorly painted face.

“I don’t have the slightest idea what they would want. Money is much easier.” A line of porcelain knick knacks manages to catch his eye as he says that, but he realizes the major potential for disaster should one of those be put in the hands of Floyd.

You link your arm with his. "It’s the thought that counts. Just get them something you think they’ll like." For a while, he remains silent.

You lead him through the store, arm in arm, while grabbing a few things for your own friends. Leaving him to contemplate his gifts, you only make the occasional suggestion until a few minutes later, he mumbles something under his breath. You don't quite catch it.

“What was that?” You ask.

He bristles, clearing his throat. Your attempts to catch his eye prove unsuccessful, but he repeats himself.

“What would you like? For the…holidays.”

It's entirely accidental that your laughter escapes you, caught off guard by his uncharacteristic shyness. Immediately you try to stifle it with a cough, but he's already petulantly trying to unlink his arm from yours.

“I didn’t mean to laugh!” You plead lightheartedly, contented when he stops fighting with a sigh. Tightening your hold, you let your head fall to his shoulder in front of a display of snowglobes. “I promise I’ll be happy with anything, even if it’s just a card. Don't worry so much.”

“And if you don’t like what I get you?”

“Try again next year.”

In the reflection of a snow globe, you finally see him crack a smile.

He pinches your arm playfully, successfully slipping out of your grasp when you recoil in surprise. He turns to you, slightly startling you but prompting you to do the same. Wide-eyed you watch as he takes a step forward, crowding you into the corner of the already cramped shop. 

“Actually, I think I might know what you’d like,” he leans in close, his gaze flickering to your lips and making your breath hitch. There's no more room for you to back up, and your heart pounds relentlessly as he watches you like a hunter their prey. He cups your cheek, his lips ghosting over your own.

“Would you mind if I gave it to you early?”

Idia, and the first snowfall of the season...

The sound of an incoming call disrupts Idia’s game. He doesn’t bother to check who it is–there’s only one person it could be–yet he still pauses before accepting.

It hasn’t been long since you pushed your way into his circle and started developing a friendship with him. It took him (and Ortho) by surprise, and so speaking with you is still something he finds himself needing lots of mental preparation for. His fingers are unsteady in picking up his phone, causing him to almost miss the button when he finally answers.

“Idia!” Your voice comes through somewhat breathlessly, but your enthusiasm is loud and clear. He can hear you aggressively slamming what seems to be drawers, for whatever reason. “Have you looked outside?”

Your sudden inquiry catches him off guard, seeing as he barely had the courage to answer the phone, let alone questions. His nerves spike as you wait patiently for his answer, so he glances around his room.

Only to cringe when he realizes he doesn’t even have a window to look out of. 

“Um, n-no I haven't. Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just the weather.” You laugh, slamming another drawer which makes him jolt.

He takes a steadying breath, trying to relax. “Well, the weather in my dorm isn’t the s-same as yours, so...”

“Ugh, that's right.” Your disappointment gives him a dreadful feeling, but you don't give him a chance to dwell on it. “Well, it snowed here last night! I was thinking of making a snowman, do you want to come over?”

Ten minutes later, you’re standing at his door with an extra hat in hand and an excited Ortho hovering at your side.

As the three of you make the journey back to Ramshackle, you and the younger Shroud brother make excited conversation the whole way. Once the snow is in sight you suggest making a snowman to Ortho, and Idia hangs back while you get to work. He takes a moment to better compose himself.

Yet it’s in watching you with his brother that Idia realizes how much of a mess his emotions are. He watches through the condensation of his breath as you show Ortho how to carefully pack snow and place it where it’s needed. His expression softens at all the ways you take care to ensure that the wet snow doesn’t harm his brother's build.

Idia hardly ever notices the cold, but he knows it would feel much more frigid here, and in all of Twisted Wonderland, without you.

Caught in his thoughts, he doesn't notice when you come bounding up to him until his cold hand is in both of your gloved ones. He squeaks, startled by the very object of his anguish. You tug on his arm innocently.

“What are you sulking over here for? Come help us!” 

But Idia won’t budge. His gaze flickers behind you, checking that Ortho is distracted, before focusing his attention back on you. He sort of processes you asking if something is wrong while tentatively adjusting the collar of his coat. 

Very much so, he thinks.

The flurries of snow landing on your face take up most of his focus. Your eyebrows are raised and your head is tilted at him, and it’s so captivating that he wants to burn this moment into his memory forever, if possible. One of your hands still holds onto his, playing with his fingers patiently.

As he stares at you, he wonders how you’d react if he just…kissed you, maybe. He knows you must have some feelings for him, at least he thinks so, but in his state, it would surely be a disaster regardless. So he shuts the idea down quickly-there's plenty of time to get to that.

He squeezes your hand with an apologetic smile, one you reciprocate ten times brighter.

“S-sorry,” he chokes. “Lead the way?”

He relishes in the warmth of your hand in his.

Malleus, and decorating for the holidays...

Malleus, ever eager to learn more of your customs, happily agrees to help you decorate Ramshackle for the holidays.

He arrives early, as he tends to when he’s excited about something, and beats your alarm clock in waking you up. You open your eyes to him sitting beside you, reading a book and sporting gold tinsel wrapped around his horns. In your half-awake state, the tinsel is much more startling than his presence.

"Um, goodmorning. What's with the uh..." Blinking sleepily, you gesture to his head.

He looks up in confusion, before piecing together what you're referring to.

"Lilia informed me that it would be appropriate. He said you'd appreciate 'festive' attire?"

You laugh warmly as you rub your eyes, ever grateful for Lilia's whims.

Malleus reads patiently as you get dressed in as many layers as possible, and eventually, you make your way downstairs to the lounge.

As you open some boxes of decorations you’d gathered from Sam’s, he takes the opportunity to peak through them as well. He’s fascinated by the strings of lights and paper snowflakes you bring out, excited to be the one helping you. As if his horns weren't shiny enough, he's practically glowing every time you ask him to place something up high, finding joy in being at your service. It would be lying to say you weren't absolutely endeared by his excitement.

When you get to decorating the windows, you don't expect the sight of a thick blanket of snow outside. It hadn't been there last night, and the way it falls from the sky indicates that it won’t be stopping, either. You pause your actions, Malleus joining you in intrigue.

“I didn’t realize it was going to snow today.” You look down thoughtfully before turning to him. The snow seems to be coming in quite heavily, even still. “Do you want to go back to your dorm?”

He blinks at you.

“Would you like me to go?”

Looking surprised by your question, disappointment practically drips from his voice. He seems to take it as you asking him to leave, which you correct frantically.

“No, it’s not that! I just don’t want you to get stuck here."

His face softens, chuckling fondly. Reaching a hand out he smooths the space between your eyebrows until your face lifts into the lighter expression he prefers on you. Taking one end of the garland in your hands, he only momentarily disregards your question to bring it to the mantle above the fireplace.

“I may come and go as I please, as I do believe you are aware. How do you think I arrived?” He questions, gesturing for you to join him. You chastise yourself for not realizing, having forgotten about his magic since you spend most of your time with him walking. “But I wish to spend more time with you, if you’ll allow it.”

After that, your conversation dwindles–largely due to your embarrassment–but the silence is comfortable.

Once all the decorations go up, the two of you find yourselves on the couch. You sit on one end, his head in your lap while you admire the hues of gold and silver all around you. Your fingers brush through the hair on his forehead and trace over his horns, tinsel now gone in favor of decorating the windowsill. You feel a warm sense of home, one you've been missing so much since arriving in this world, and it's a comforting thought as you watch flurries of ice collect on the window pane.

“Thank you for helping me today, Mal. It really means a lot.”

He meets your eyes, smiling warmly.

“Anything for you, my child of man.”

a/n : haiii everyone I hope this gets u guys in the holiday mood! I wanted to explore some cozy prompts with my fave boys since it's the holidays (can u tell I got carried away w Azul n Idia...) hope these r cute

also need to say thank you for all the love and support lately !! i'm not great at replying to comments and such because I still don't entirely know how to use Tumblr, but I appreciate it so so much. you're all so kind and I'm glad I get to share this platform with you all! see u soon, kisses

[gucciwins]

i miss harry so much :(( could you write a little blurb for us to see what harry and y/n would be up to today? even if it’s only 300 words idc i just need some harry content🥹🫶

had no idea what I wanted to write or if you wanted to see a specific couple of mine but I do hope you enjoy this for now 🥺 love you

+

Autumn was his favorite season. 

He loved the cold, always being bundled up in a jumper. Gave him even more of a reason to visit his favorite coffee shop. It didn’t hurt he also got to see Y/N, the pretty barista who always drew a flower by his name. 

It’s actually where he was heading on this drizzly morning. He had finished his workout and thought he deserved a treat. To his surprise, Y/N wasn’t behind the counter waiting to greet him with a bright smile. Of course, he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up; he knows she has to get a day off. 

Harry goes to the counter and orders a black americano to match his mood and chocolate croissant. 

“Not big on flavor today?”

He turns around and finds Y/N looking up at him, having overhead his order. “Hi,” he greets in a fluttery breath. Y/N always recommended a drink, but it seemed he didn’t bother today. “Uh, I wasn’t sure what to get.” 

Y/N laughs, “I’m sorry if that’s on me.”

Harry is quick to shake his head. “A bit in the clouds today. Didn’t want to think too hard.” 

“Mhm…”

“Off today?” Harry asks, wanting to keep speaking with her.

“Yeah, I was in the neighborhood and wanted a coffee before continuing the day.” 

Harry smiles, “where are you headed, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

Y/N steps closer to him. “Oh, I’m headed to the park to do some reading. Nothing exciting.” 

He’s intrigued, though. He wants to ask her what book she’s reading? What is her favorite genre? If she had one, she’d recommend for him. Before he could ask any of those questions, she excused herself to grab her coffee, and Harry thought that was it. He’d go back to admiring her from afar. In came a crowd of people, and he seemed to lose sight of her and instead decided to wait for his coffee and go from there for his day. 

Harry looked around one more time in the buzzing cafe before walking out. He decided to turn right when he heard a yell of his name behind him.

It was Y/N.

She rushed over, her tote bag slipping off her shoulder. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” 

He shakes his head, assuring her it’s okay. 

Y/N brushes her hair back, a sign telling him she’s nervous. “Well, I was wondering if you wanted to walk with me. Only if you’re free,” she adds. 

Harry bites back his smile, knowing he might have never gained the courage to ask her out, but glad Y/N made the first move. “I’d love to join you.” 

It’s how they find themselves walking to the park and settling onto a dry bench as the morning drizzle seems to have passed. Harry could listen to Y/N talk all day. He learns she has lunch with her parents every Sunday and has a baby tabby named Gus, after her favorite romance character. She shares that while she loves making coffee, it’s a means to an end while she gets through university. Y/N has a year left and knows time will fly by after the holidays. She tells him that she loves jackets and can never go without one. She can also be very forgetful, meaning she’s gone through her fair of keys to her flat. Y/N switched it up on asking him questions, but they always seemed to go back to her, not that she minded. 

“Can I confess something?” Harry tells her after he returns from throwing away their coffee cups. 

Y/N beams at him, “course, Harry.” 

“Uh,” he thought it’d be easier to confess his feelings, but he felt his heart in his throat. “I think you’re amazing, and I’d love to take you on a date,” Harry breathes out.

Y/N feels her face flush at his confession. She places her hand on top of his and gives him a squeeze. “I’d love to go on a date. Though this felt like a date to me.”

Harry agrees but promises their second date will be even better. Y/N excuses herself after seeing the time after giving Harry her number. 

“Don’t make me wait for a text, Harry.”

“Call you tonight? We can plan out our date.” He offers. 

Y/N nods, “sounds perfect.” 

She walks away but pauses a few steps away as if she is debating something because he can ask her if something’s wrong. Y/N walks back over to Harry and places her lips on his cheek. It was a short kiss, but he could feel her lips' softness. Y/N pulls back with a sheepish smile, laughing as she sees Harry’s face turn red. 

“I’ll see you, Harry.”

“Bye, Y/N,” he breathed out, locked in a trance. 

It’d seemed this Autumn would forever hold a special place in his heart. 

[lloydssluts]

Lloyd Hansen Writing Challenge

Welcome to the Lloyd Hansen Writing Challenge, hosted by the Lloyd Hansen server.

About 2 years ago, we got our first taste of Lloyd Hansen through Netflix’s trailers. From then on, we were hooked. To celebrate this anniversary, we invite writers to join our challenge and create their own Lloyd Hansen fics!

This challenge is 18+ ONLY. Minors are not allowed to engage in any way, shape, or form. It is open to everyone—not just members of our server, although we encourage you to join us if you haven’t already.

All fics will be about Lloyd Hansen. We do not allow incest (stepcest is permitted), underage, or scat play. Fics should be reader inserts* and as inclusive as possible. Any genre (dark, smut, angst, fluff) is allowed. *For any other specifications or adjustments, reach out to one of the mods or send an ask. This is not a strict requirement.

There is no word count requirement. However, you must use a “read more” break, no matter the length. Use appropriate warnings.

The deadline for the challenge is July 22nd, 2024. This is not a strict deadline at all!

You will choose a dialogue that the character has said in the film and transform it from the original context. Certain prompts are open to changing as long as you note that somewhere. Once you’ve chosen a prompt and sent us an ask with it, it will be crossed off from the list. Prompts are on a first-come, first-serve basis! You can select up to 5 prompts.

Need feedback or advice? Feel free to message either one of the mods (@hansensgirl or @cuttlefjsh), or visit our server to discuss your fic with other members.

TAG YOUR FICS WITH THE TAG #Lloyd Hansen Server WC24

Happy writing!

Asterisks + ‘[…]’ indicates a prompt is open for change.

Should we try again?

Boring.

“Mostly, it’s loss which teaches us about the worth of things.” That’s Arthur Schopenhauer. He was a German philosopher, a pessimist. He saw the value in suffering.

Damn it. Phones on silent when I’m working, please.

Still just flirting. But… [...] getting there. *

Well, no one goes to Harvard to play football.

I like to be the exception. What’s up?

Gimme a name.

Could be fun.

Well, I’m gonna need a full green light on this one. Open checkbook.

I’d rather you punch me in the dick.

We’ll find somebody [...] loves and squeeze. *

Have I ever done you wrong, [...]? *

Professionally maybe. Lloyd Hansen, Hansen Government Services.

Aw, does it? Good.

You know my work. That’ll make this next part a lot easier.

You know what makes me sad, [...]? *

Five and a half.

Who likes cats?

Let’s talk about the mess your [...] made. *

Oh, [...] made a big one. And judging by your shallow breathing and puckered asshole*, I can only assume you know why I’m here.

But see, that’s the beauty of the private sector. I don’t care about reasons.

My guess is you’re helping [...] already. So this shouldn’t put too much of a dent in your day. *

But your file, well, that’s chock-full of nuggets, some of which might make you rethink your fussy attitude.

You gonna answer it?

Hey, sunshine. Lloyd Hansen here. I’m the one running this op.

The one where I get exactly what I want.

Okay, that’s fair. Well, why don’t you come on in, and we can chat? My assistant will get lunch. You like sushi?

Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page.

Looks like you need a new phone.

Don’t say “preternatural” to me. It’s an asshole word.

And that, [...], is exactly what bad ethics and zero impulse control will get you. *

I can kill anybody.

Well, we’ll see.

We need to ground in *Vienna.

How do you feel about your license?

Who’s up for some *Tafelspitz?

Hey, sunshine.

What gave it away?

Ballsy.

Nice try, pumpkin.

What size shoe are you?

Can someone get me a Vicodin, please?

On the run, scared shit less.

You know all those rules you guys are always trying to work your way around? They don’t mean dick to me.

Shut up and go sit in the corner.

Oh. How about that?

Forget about the Vicodin.

That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.

Goldilocks, would you be a lamb and excuse us?

Shhh. Please.

Now, whatever I just did to your *ears, it’s not even torture. I just made it up on the spot. Just came to me. And that’s how this is gonna go.

Should we try again?

Maybe we should get the *girl back in here.

Well, that was unexpected.

Make him dead.

My God, how hard is it to shoot somebody?

What I do can’t be taught.

You know what I love about you?

Yahtzee.

No, success qualifies as success.

You wanna make an omelette, you gotta *kill some people.

You know, in English, we call this a *happy ending. However, if you say one more word, you may not see it that way.

Lock everything down.

Get me eyes on the bridge.

You’re making me destroy a historic building here!

Wait! Please don’t shoot! Look what you did to my hand.

Give me that, you little shit.

Now you pick those feet up, or you’re gonna get dead real quick.

Now, listen. You shut up, and you don’t move.

Now, I’m gonna stop you right there, cupcake.

What do you say we wrap this up?

I mean, I’m having a blast, but it’s way past the kid’s bedtime, don’t you think?

You’re gonna throw me that gun, or the little one gets a new face. *

It’s really a shame this isn’t gonna work out between us.

Now normally, at this point in the night, I wouldn’t be sticking around.

With the house lights about to come on, I’d find a desperate, ugly chick to lick my wounds and split, but you have been a pebble in my shoe since the very beginning.

And now I just don’t think I can walk away.

Guess what I’m thinking right now.

I think I’m better than you.

Still getting used to it.

Let’s see if these moves fuck.

[shona22]

Sterek fic rec: October edition (2024) 🐺 ⚓

Each month, I'll be sharing some of my favorite fics (and I'll make sure to backup and download them for safekeeping). Please note that I have a soft spot for darker themes, so warnings and tags will be plentiful - reader discretion advised!

Want specific recs? Feel free to send me an ask with your preferred tropes or genres, and I'll do my best to find some from my bookmarks. 

Pay by the hour, but don't leave so soon by JettieBettie 

"This is the last time," he tells her, heading toward the door.

"That’s what you always say. But I end up wearing his face for you again and again.”

Note: an incredibly hot pwp. I won't spoil much, but it does have an amazing Stiles voice regardless of being so short. 

___

Step towards me, step away by Areiton 

The truth is, he’s been more than a little bit in love with Derek Hale for a long time.

Note: A compelling exploration of an unconventional relationship. Complex characters, angst, and favourite tropes (Derek angsting over age gap, Kate comparisons) lead to a satisfying ending. Worth the read!

___

I found you hidden in plain sight (why'd I take so long?) by Gorgeousgreymatter 

Stiles is pretty sure he’s hallucinating. He’s got to be. There’s no other plausible explanation, he thinks, as he sits on the sidelines of the lacrosse field and feels the cold, hard bench underneath him, the roar of the crowd at his back like the worst white noise machine in the world.

There’s no other reason why he sees it, the hulking, black figure of a wolf peering at him from the treeline behind the bleachers. Its eyes flare in the glaring glow of the stadium lights, but they’re the wrong color, he thinks: blood-moon red instead of cobalt blue, but the familiarity of it all makes his stomach roll and clench.

Note: Gods. Another one my favourite trope, where Derek gets his alpha spark back because of Stiles. The line, the one which had me gnawing my pillow at 3AM:

“Jesus, Stiles. You never stopped being mine, did you?”

___

Somebody that I used to know by Percybyssheshelly

Stiles and Derek have been together for months.

The trouble is, they weren't yesterday.

Note: short, but packs a punch. If you're having a bad day and want some relatively short angst with happy ending fics, this one's for you. 

___

We live (not as we wish to) as we can by Endrversed

“I’m not a closet case,” Derek repeats, teeth gritted.

“Oh, yeah?” Stiles taunts, daring Derek with his eyes. “You coulda fooled me.”

“I’m not – gay.”

Derek spits that word out. Stiles snorts, no humour in it.

“Sure. You’re totally straight, dude. You just get all up in my personal space every time we’re alone. Stare at my lips any time you think no one’s looking. Well, I’m looking, Derek, and I know what you want. I know what you really want is to bend me over and fuck me.”

Derek is a closeted frat boy, and Stiles gets under his skin. Enemies to fuckbuds to <3

Note: Heed the tags. After DBC, I've been craving closeted frat boy Derek with the perfect Stiles voice. This one delivers. Endversed's mastery seals the deal.

___

UST (an unfortunate series of tropes) 

Stiles and Derek sitting in a tree, M-A-R-R-I-E-D.

Wait, what?

Or: Stiles thought he and Derek were finally getting to be bros, and then Deaton had to go and ruin everything with his stupid spell.

Note: Amazing Stiles voice + mature Derek. Re-read worthy! Accidental soul bonding and more - my ultimate tropes. 10/10, left craving more.

___

Stronger in numbers by bloodwrites

Stiles doesn't want to be the Alpha's mate, he doesn't want to be locked up for his own protection, and he's damn sure he doesn't want to be dealing with blood and werewolf parts on a weekly basis, but somehow that's what his life has become.

That's not going to change, unless he can convince Derek to trust Scott and the hunters, because it's the only way they're going to chase the Alpha Pack out of town.

Of course, that only solves two out of three.

Note: please heed ALL the tags. Also, remember, Derek’s somewhat of a certified jerk in this. And yet, somehow, that's the fic’s appeal. It honestly has the feels of a classic 2010-2014 fics, and that makes me eat it up even more. Also, it's HOT. 

___

Werewolf love songs, vol 1 by aggybird. 

Peter decides to use the power of Barry Manilow's music to make Stiles and Derek fall in love.

Meanwhile, there are monsters and stuff, and Stiles and Derek are stupid.

Note: amazing fic very close to my heart. I love meddling uncle Peter, and the gradual progression of their relationship. It's also such a classic early sterek fic, and like the other ones, I'm always starving for it. It's funny and incredible with Stiles’ voice. 

___

Rapture, sweet rapture (won't you put your hands on me) by queerly_it_is

Somewhere in the stringy mesh of his overactive brain cells, Stiles is sure there must be memories of what it was like to not have a totally possessive creeper with a leather fixation for an adopted brother.

Note: please heed the warnings. It's pseudo-incest! 

[sakkiichi]

BABY BLUE.

“Tell me you will live through this and I will die for you.”

You can imagine any of your favorite characters for this, but I was specifically thinking of Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Kaeya x fem! reader.

genre/cw: very soft spice, angst to comfort, fluff, some slight aftercare.

word count: 1.4 k.

To someone I cherish, this is for you. If you ever see it, I hope it brings you some semblance of comfort on nights that feel lonely. Even if I’m asleep, I’m on the other side of the screen, dearest 🩵

The rain falls.

Your palm rests against the cold window glass, drops splattered on the other side.

Raindrops.

Looking up at them, you could feel like flying to the grey heavens; you always liked the weather better when it was gloomy.

Shades of light blue seem contained in the still free falling rain, before it shatters against the dull concrete.

You could relate to that, one amongst millions, forgotten afterwards.

Only so many loved to splash in muddy puddles, after all.

With a sigh, you pull away from the blurry glass, the imprint of your hand outlined against the indigo hues of the approaching night.

Is that all the world will have to remember you by?

Are you really that… ephemeral? Impermanent?

Unimportant? Is the word that lodges into your heart, freezing it, each beat painting in dark blue your lips that used to smile, the fingers that used to caress him, so lovingly.

Wrapping your soft blue blanket around your form, you step towards your room’s balcony, the curtains an eerie muted cyan in the dim light. Knuckles white, you pull the crystal doors open, frigid rain almost piercing when it touches your skin.

And yet, it feels peaceful, it feels good.

Perhaps you just missed hurting in ways that were not emotional, and maybe the cold drops in the night provided that.

“I knew you’d be here.” A familiar voice pulls you out of your daze.

Startled, you turn around. Your hands tremble around you, your rumpled up blanket falling off your shoulder, your yellow sweater akin to a blue sun, the water splatters over it, storm clouds. Your hair is plastered against your face, its vibrant shade, ashen in the faint moonlight through decaying skies.

Sighing, his hand wraps softly around yours.

Warm. Loving.

Not his usual chill; not his dominant or fearing for you hold; not his usual teasing; not his trembling hold in twilights when he begged you to please not go.

Permanent. Grounding.

Your lover pulls you into him, under the awning, freezing cobalt bleeding into smaller sapphires when it hits the canvas.

He doesn’t care how you’re dampening his clothes, his hair, arctic hues spreading like watercolors to his core.

Carefully, he guides you inside, the warmth of your room welcome to your shivering form.

The wet blanket is lifted from you, hung on a low chair before the balcony’s doors, the dripping water pooling in a mirrored image of the half concealed moon.

Your partner’s arms hook under your legs, cradling you close, walking towards the bed.

He lays down by your side, svelte hands slipping your ochre sweater off of you. His hands caress your hips, the skin right above your black pants, and the skin under, when slightly calloused fingers slip beneath the turquoise silk of your underwear.

His own shirt meets the same fate as your discarded sweater, both yours and his trousers following after.

Scarred hands travel up and down your sides, his gem-like eyes reflected in your dilated pupils.

Tears shine like colorless emeralds in your lash line.

You want him. You need him. So bad.

But do you deserve him?

As if he was the only one privy to your thoughts, your lover’s hand laces with yours.

His gaze is comfortably piercing, completely set on your pretty face.

A gentle squeeze, before his hand slips delicately under your sports bra, unclasping it, alice blue fabric slipping off your frame.

“Beautiful.” He breathes, his stare dilating, his hands fondling with your breasts, gently pinching your nipples. He relishes in the little moans you let out.

Even if he never liked to see you cry, you were still perfect with teal eyeshadow running down your cheeks.

“My love…” you utter, a choked out sound. You want him to go on, but you want him to find better than you too.

And yet, he doesn’t think there’s anyone better, not here, not on any of the seven nations, not in another world.

“What is it, my bunny?” He whispers, kissing down your jawline, your neck, your collarbones.

You let out a shaky sigh.

“Are you sure? That I’m the one you want to do this with?” You ask, not meeting his gaze, head lowered.

“My dearest, look at me.” His tone is mellow when he takes your chin in between his fingers, gaze haloed in night and starlight, magnetized by you. “You’re the only one I want this with, the only one I’ll ever want. Do you understand?” The shadow of a smirk crosses his perfectly sculpted features when his lips brush the shell of your ear, feeling your frame shiver at his every touch.

All you can do is nod, throbbing and wetness starting to pool in your core, shades of pink and amber merging into the blue lighting of the night when his fingers brush your hipbone.

Skilled digits prod at your needy nub, thumb circling it, pearlescent juices leaking out of you.

You were always so perfect, and right now, you’re ethereal.

Reflected moonlight paints your skin azure, the city lights fiery against your hair, splayed out around the pillows.

Lips that have smiled, smirked, bitten and brought you endless pleasure envelop yours, his tongue swirling over the rosé of your parted mouth, asking for an entrance that was and would forever remain his.

His hardened tip teases your hole, as his arms wrap around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer, two colliding meteors, so bright, the sun would never need to rise again.

He enters you, in a melody of skin against skin and moans of yours and his name mingling in a million colors in the dark.

You can feel him. Deeply. Every vein and drag of his length spreading you out, taking you higher with every kiss of his tip on your sweet spot, to a vantage point from where you can see the skies end.

“I love you…” your boyfriend groans, pushing deeper inside you, one of his hands intertwining fingers with yours, the other, firm on your hip. “I love you, my darling… I’ll repeat it until you believe it… you feel so good, archons, you’re perfect.”

With one last forceful thrust, you feel your walls clamp around him, ribbons in a myriad of bright lights you only see after the nebula you and him create, painting your walls in every little detail that constitutes him and all the sheer adoration he holds for you.

Perhaps he once was a fallen god, now wandering in search of his own identity; or a broken angel, casting everyone in light, except for himself, donning a mask, kept in the shadows; maybe he is a crafted alchemist, still wondering about what it means to be alive; he could have been a silent scribe, caring more than his hardened stare let on, always peering from behind a book or another; at times you swore he was an artist, the architect that designed your very soul. Or maybe you’ve dreamed of him as a suave knight, his heart concealed behind a wall of spiky ice.

But what never changed is that his heart was always yours, in every version of the world, in every chapter of the story you still write, in the hours you dream away.

And so, you let go.

Liquid starlight coats him in your burning desire, as his nails dig into your skin, claw-like marks in his wake.

You’re a star, him, the moon, or the sun, that will forever orbit around the shine you don’t always see. Together, you meet the zenith of more than just entangled bodies, his lips descending upon yours once again tonight, feather-like this time.

With breaths mixed and labored, he pulls out, his arms not letting go, never letting go, for the gravity of you will forever tie him to your heart; even if his is hollow, icy, corrupted, or hard and gold, the threads of your sweetness are all he needs to feel alive.

Gently, your lover pulls the covers snug around you.

Summer sky blue, he sewed them himself. Or was it just his design? You can’t recall, but they are coated in him, his scent, his goodnight kisses.

Tender fingertips brush sweaty strands of hair away from your face. ‘So that I dream of you’, are his unspoken words, before his eyes close and his lips meet the tip of your nose.

In his arms, your lashes flutter closed too, in tandem with his.

Will you find wine and warm light on the other side? Lanterns to guide your night? Perhaps vast expanses of greenery with paths to find yourself and libraries to lose yourself in. Whatever the case, you hope for clear skies.

When dawn approaches, the baby blue of your now dry blanket matches the heart shaped rays expanding in the horizon.

[anonymouse5]

tips for writers block bc I need them:

~ go back and re-read what you’ve written

you might find spots that are keeping you stuck/scenes you need to scrap

~ work on a different wip/start a new wip

you might just need a break from this one & the other might give you inspo, esp if it’s similar genre/characters/etc.

these are motivation boosters/ways to get inspiration:

~ make a pinterest board or playlist (if you already have one, add to it)

~ daydream about scenes/characters

~ read something in the same form as what you’re writing, try to analyze why certain scenes work or certain characters draw you in

more random tips:

~ brainstorm random scenes that could happen in your story

if you can’t use it for this one, save it for something else!

then you can look back to these scraps later and see if you want to include them when you have writers block later

~ write a different scene

if you haven’t gotten to the scene you’re most excited to write, write that one.

if your brain is weird like mine and won’t let you write out of order, write it in a separate document/notebook depending on whether you type or write out your stories.

if you have a specific brainstorming notebook, write the scene in that. find what works for you!

~ try a sprint

try to just free write for 1 min, 5 min, 15 min. whatever you feel that you can. even 30 seconds. this might help you get into the flow. if it doesn’t, at least you wrote something. progress is good!

you can try different writing websites that make writing a game or force you to write or it will delete your work (this stresses me out so I don’t do this)

~ reread a different work of yours

try to reread something you’re proud of. this could be a confidence boost!

~ use a prompt

this can be a picture, a painting, a song, something you read (quote, poem, story, etc) or any other form of art. it can literally be anything. prompts will get you started.

~ try to remove doubts/become calm

sometimes writing becomes hard because we’re not fully confident in our writing. it happens. just remind yourself that it takes time to get good and even great writers get imposter syndrome, writers block, etc.

chill and see where your writing journey takes you. this applies to all aspects of life btw.

~ write about your writers block

this might be dumb, but it might be a great relatable poem? again, getting words on the page is good. quantity over quality for now. we can work on the quality once we get into the flow, y’know?

~ go back to square one

if you’re a plotter, go back to plotting. flesh out some of those vague ideas. add to your character sheets. think about the mood you want to create. tweak your mood board. etc. idk i only plot sometimes.

okay! happy writing. lmk if you want more tips <3

[haechanhues]

last minute of golden hour; yours | chapter three

pairing : first love! haechan x fem!reader

genre : small coastal town romance. first love. fluff. pining. suggestive. angst.

warnings : short and more of a filler chapter. haechan does make a little appearance but this chapter is more of an insight in their family dynamic.

summary : is first love meant to be the way it is for the town's golden boy and everybody's baby angel?

word count : 1.3k

taglist : @nshitae

main masterlist

previous chapter : chapter two

It was a brand new day, and it had already started with sunrise. Your Mum, specifically. It was her annual, once in a full moon day off and she was celebrating it the way she always did. Initially, undoubtedly with a good mood. 

This good mood however was mostly at your own expense…

“Mum, stop already!” You plead, trying to squeeze in between her too excited demeanour and hard kitchen bench. 

“Oh c’mon, give me the goss. I've been waiting for a free day for weeks,” She pleads back, twirling in her dressing gown and pyjamas. Granted, she is the happiest she’s been in a few months, sleeping in an extra two hours and making herself breakfast, “I feel like I need gossip to function right now. So make it good.”

“I told you already,” You rolled your eyes, as your Mum bends to fill the dishwasher up with your Dad’s dirty dishes, “He told me to meet up with him, I did and it went alright. A bit awkward and I was nervous but…yeah” 

Your Mum looks from her chore to see you duck your head with a lovestruck little smile that completely overtakes your whole face. 

“More than alright it seems, he has you in googles and googly-ga-gaa over him,” She snorts, “Wanna watch a movie with me? I’m going to be all alone and I want to spend it with my daughter.” 

A part of you wants to groan, because this is when your mother wants to steal all the details over your failed little flirtation with Haechan and the other half realises she’s just offered you a way out of a mock exam….

The same part knows your mother has moments like this where she forgets you’re a school student and if you cared more about attendance like Yunjin you wouldn’t accept any offer she makes. Wouldn’t even consider it. But you’re not Yunjin, because you slid right next to your mother to see what movie she chose with your school uniform still on. 

You figure it’s everything to do with the fact you don’t get to see your parents much. Your mother usually works late nights with her rest to work ratio being completely imbalanced. Coming home with a stiff neck and low tolerance for children and the like. Your father, similarly, is working hard towards a promotion at work that will end in his salary potentially being tripled. You worry that the wind will change and he’ll be stuck with a hunched neck from working business. 

Despite this, they maintain their duties to being your parent. Your Dad often taking you out on weekends or roping you into an evening trip to a takeaway shop more than an hour away to sneak in bonding time. Mum in comparison using her sick days or break opportunities to relax and unwind, you more often than not, by her side.

By the time the sequel to ‘Bridget Jones’ Diary’ begins, you leave to change out of your school uniform, opting for a more comfortable fit and sending a quick text to the group chat explaining your absence. 

“Shall I make pancakes?” Your Mum wonders, feeling peckish and with sugar cravings that could make a diabetic faint. You nod, incredibly entranced, “Can I get a thank you?” 

You lock eyes with your mother, smiling with teeth before refocusing on the movie and the awkward yet lovable main character, “Thanks. Love you.” 

Your Mum sighs, whipping the mixture half asleep and buttering the pan. She pulls out her phone to send your Dad evidence of the simplistic yet precious lunch she plates, her creative juices sparking when she brings out all sorts of toppings. She cuts the bananas, fills the little teapot with maple syrup and then halves a lemon. She does it all. 

Feeling less entertained by the movie currently, you watch as your Mum plates up the pancakes, smirking at the way your Mum presents it all on a little lazy susan. Feeling a little mischievous you send your Dad a text with a photo of the two of you and the small picnic in between. 

Your Dad texts almost immediately. 

Betrayal! My lawyers will be hearing about this-

You can hear your Dad’s voice just from reading the text and it makes you snort so loudly your mother almost has a heart attack. 

Just kidding. Really am jealous though. Will be home late today x hope SOMEONE enjoys their day off. 

Hang on

Aren’t you supposed to be at school today? 

Your mouth fills with air as your lips clamp shut at the incriminating question before turning your phone facedown on the bench immediately. 

“Dad says he’s jealous,” You comment, cutting through your first pancake greedily. 

“He should be, I did good,” Your Mum compliments herself, and then she giggles at the way you send her a lowkey judgemental look, “Say if you had to choose between Donghyuck or pancakes what would you pick?” 

You roll your eyes, collecting your plate off the bench before moving towards the paused TV to continue watching the movie. Your mother’s spurts of laughter follow after you. 

“Ha ha,” You deadpan, which sends her into another fit of laughter, a kind she tries to bury only for her cheeks to swell like a balloon as she fails to contain her giggles. 

The whole day is spent like that. With food to share between the two of you. Your bodies flying like feathers as past days evaporate into the sky. Laughter and teasing. More teasing. Teasing about your crush on the golden boy, Lee Donghyuck. Sporting hero. Your town’s pride. The one going places. 

You almost combust when the aforementioned boy appears on your doorstep with a small care package that took him a good hour to orchestrate together, along with your two friends who already suspect that you ditched school for a reason that’s not illness but rather because your Mum was home. 

They don’t have the heart to say anything to him though. Ultimately deciding to encourage him instead. If he has already gone to such lengths, he wouldn’t mind the effort? So they exaggerate. Jeno is sure that they described the symptoms of bubonic plague, but he decides to keep that tidbit of information a secret. 

It’s when you open the door, with a healthy glow and no hives in sight, does he start to feel like an idiot. A godforsaken big idiot. 

“Oh,” He mutters, holding out the bag awkwardly, “I got you a care package… I thought you were sick?” 

Your nose scrunches, and if you weren’t so embarrassed yourself, you wouldn’t have let how cute he is go. 

“I’m not sick,” You deny, tucking your hair behind your ear, “My Mum’s home from work so I’m spending the day with her.” 

“Lucky,” He mutters, “We had a test today.” 

“I know,” You whisper conspiratorially back. Your smile grows as he looks at you with a dumbfounded look. 

“And you didn’t think to invite me? Huh?” He’s joking with you, expression bright and soft. 

“Next time, I promise, I will,” You pout, holding out your hand. He holds out his own hand to loop your pinky finger with his, and from his touch alone your whole body is warm. Be it your own opinion, but you can attest that Haechan is blessed with the sun’s kiss so much that he has never been cold a day in his life. He’s like a furnace. 

He peers down at his phone, reading the time before locking eyes with you again, “I’ve got to go to training now.” 

You don’t want him to go, and by his expression it doesn’t look like he wants to leave either. 

“Hope you’re ‘feeling better’ tomorrow,” He sends his regards with his hands shaped like bunny ears and he smiles when you reward him with your own. 

“Should be.” 

“Cool.” 

Then he’s off and again, you’re completely blown away with him. His smile. His laugh. His warmth. His fucking face. 

“What’s this I hear about test day?” 

Shit. 

next chapter : chapter four

[awesomesaurous]

-rant, please excuse the salt-

I really wish Don’t Starve Together was a different genre of game. I know that’s stupid because the objective “Don’t Starve” is the whole foundation of it, but I kind of just wish I could take the look and the loose story and make it more of an adventure and less of a never-ending survival game. I think in the Hamlet DLC for the base game, the “town” aspects of it scratched that itch a little bit, but I want more. The interface could even look exactly the same. I played the demo of Cult of the Lamb, and that game has a similar top-down 2D look to Don’t Starve, except there are in-game “cutscenes” and you have dialogue options which advance the creepy little narrative. Hollow Knight was good with this too. It’s a metroidvania, so there’s no crafting at all (I don’t consider status upgrades to be crafting), but like most RPGs with a silent protagonist, the story is furthered through exploration and interaction with NPCs. Some people love survival games, and I enjoy them quite a bit, but I like them to have an endpoint. The Flame in the Flood has a brutal difficulty curve, but it does reward you for your persistence, and it’s by no means impossible to beat. The journey takes you further and further along a river which at first seems endless - but it does have an end, and that’s what I want, I guess. Closure.

Hades is one of the most enjoyable games I’ve ever played, and the main reason was how much you are rewarded, even for failed attempts. You might totally choke on a run, but even so, every time you venture out you’re gaining more darkness/gems/etc that you can invest back into your stats and weapons. As in - there is no wrong way to play the game, you will move forward and improve no matter what. I love that. DST has finally dipped into this territory with Wilson’s skill tree, but I think they ought to give every character a similar mechanic. The skills would be specific to each character, and I think would give players more of an incentive to do repeat runs. At a certain point the whole game gets boring, and depending on my mood I sometimes boot it up, think about all the trees I’m going to have to cut down, and then immediately close the game, because I’m sick of doing virtual chores.

Stardew Valley was so addictive for me that I had to delete the game to get control of my life back. That game is nothing but farming and chores, yet I didn’t get tired of it. I think that’s because if you want to, you can ignore any aspect of the game you don’t care for, and time will pass anyway. You can spend all your time farming, or just mining, or focus on relationships with NPCs. Obviously with Don’t Starve, you can’t ignore food because starvation is an ever-present threat.

I also don’t give a damn about boss fights. I never have, in any game. I’m always eager for them to be over so I can get back to actually enjoying the game again, but nope I have to hit this thing 1000 times without getting permanently killed. Don’t Starve’s fighting system is shit, and it always has been. The hit boxes suck, and the fact that I need to download mods just to see health levels for the enemy is ridiculous.

I’ve had a lot of fun with DST, but I think I enjoy the fandom stuff more than the actual game. Same with TF2. It’s pretty fun to play, but I enjoy watching SFM videos and stuff like that more than playing the actual game. Don’t Starve has such fun characters and such an appealing style that it draws people in, and the animated shorts promise this wider world and a more intriguing story that isn’t in the actual game. Most players won’t even get to the cryptic hints at the story that are in the actual game (the Ruins, etc) due to the difficulty curve.

There’s a lot of creative energy and highly imaginative world-building, but when are we going to see it put to use? If anybody has any thoughts on all this, feel free to leave a reply.

[amethystarachnid]

BABY LIGHTNING

⤷ THOR ODINSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Thor Odinson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5k

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of sex (that’s how babies are made lol), a little himbo Thor, bad nordic mythology I’m sorry,

ᯓ★ Request: Thor & Secret Baby where Thor doesn’t know until a friend of his tells him and wants to be a part of their lives. ( @rihannabale )

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier lover click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language, feel free to correct me kindly please

You can remember the first time you two met vividly: it happened when the Avengers were formed, you saw him stand next to Fury while you were sitting at your desk, doing your boring job behind a computer.

He was, literally, a God so you didn’t even bother to think that he was going to notice you, but he did.

Your eyes met for the first time and you fell in love with those blue eyes almost instantly, how stupid of you! You are an adult, you shouldn’t fall in love at first sight with a God.

“Who’s that?” Thor asks Fury, his head nodding towards you and you quickly look away.

“Oh that’s Y/N Y/L/N…Anyway…” Fury leads Thor on the other side of the room and it doesn’t really surprise you, instead, you’re surprised that Fury remembers your name.

When your shifts ends you enter the elevator with a tired sigh and as the door close you hear a voice asking you to stop them.

As the doors reopened you see Thor standing just behind them with an awkward smile, “Sorry, I don’t really understand how these things work…” He chuckles and enters the elevator, making you feel small suddenly, and it isn’t just because he’s a God but because he is big, in every direction.

“I-It’s not a problem…” You stutter, then look at him confused when he doesn’t push any button, “Which floor are you headed to?” You ask politely, not knowing how to properly refer to a God.

“Oh I’m leaving.” He simply says.

“Then you need to push the floor zero.” You explain as you push the button.

“Where are you going?” He asks, glancing at the buttons, “Inside Midgard?” You hold back a chuckle at his confused expression when he notices that you are headed to the floor -1.

“It’s the underground parking lot, I have my car there.” You smile, glancing at the screen that tells you which floor you’re currently on: 12 and after a few seconds it becomes 11.

“You humans created a lot of things, they’re cool.” Thor looks around.

You simply smile, not knowing how to answer that.

“So you uh…Work here? With the strange machine?” He asks awkwardly.

You feel your cheeks heat up, “The computer, yes, but it’s a boring job really…Saving the world must be more satisfying.”

“It is, helping people makes you feel good.” He smiles at you and you find yourself thinking how can a man that big and menacingly looking be such a soft and gentle person?

A few more moments pass in silence, as you try to steal glances at him, in doing that you find him doing the same.

“A friend told me that here on Earth when you like a girl you need to ask her on a date…” Thor starts when the elevator is at the fourth floor. “So, forgive me if I’m too straight forward, but would you like to go on a date with me?”

Your eyes widen at his words, a God is asking you out? Thor, God of Thunder, is asking you out?

“Yes!” You immediately, even though it probably makes you sound impatient. You couldn’t care less.

After that everything started moving forward quickly, super quickly.

In a month you have you have gone on more than 20 dates and you have lost count of all the sex you two had.

At first he stayed at the Stark Tower when he was on Earth but soon your apartment became his too.

You had never moved so quickly with a man, you have always been careful, but with Thor everything came naturally.

In a month you were completely in love with him and he seemed in love with you too, always bringing you flowers and jewels from Asgard.

“Why don’t you come and live at Asgard with me?” He suddenly asks one night, with you cuddled up by his side after yet another incredible night together.

“On Asgard? But I know nothing about it.” You answer, moving your fingertips over his toned torso.

“I will teach you everything you need to know.” He says, kissing the top of your head. “Sooner or later I’ll be King…And I want you to be my Queen.”

At his words you look at him shocked, “Me? A human becoming the Queen of Asgard, your people would hate me.”

“They will not.” He cups your cheek in his hand, caressing the soft skin with his thumb, “They don’t choose their Queen, I do, and I choose you.”

“Thor that’s…You’re asking me a lot.” You look away, the rational part of you is screaming at you that even just thinking about that is stupid.

But the bigger part of you, the once filled only with love for him, is telling you to screw everything and go with him.

“I know, but I’ll be with you every step of the way.” He smiles gently at you, “Be my Queen, Y/N, let me be your King.”

You look into his eyes and the only thing you see is pure adoration for you.

“Okay, I’ll come to Asgard.” You smile and he kisses your lips gently.

“I’ll make you the most loved and worshipped Queen Asgard has ever seen.” He lays you down on the bed while peppering your face with soft kisses.

“Thor we just stopped.” You chuckle.

“But we should celebrate, don’t you think?” He kisses your neck, “I have one last mission to go on, after that I’ll come to you and bring you to Asgard, my Queen.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

Three days later Thor leaves you to go on a mission to save the world, fighting who knows what type of aliens and bad people.

A week after he still hasn’t returned, but you know that missions can be unpredictable so you don’t worry too much.

You patiently wait for him to come home so you can show him the positive pregnancy test, you chuckle when you think about how confused he will be at first.

Another week pass, then another.

Then it’s a month.

Then another.

Soon your belly is too swollen to hide, you go in maternity leave, focusing on taking care of the little girl in your belly.

You have lost all hope that Thor would come back, he probably knew this since that night.

He knew he was going to leave you, you’re sure of it.

So now you have a baby girl to raise alone, sure, you thought about abortion but you simply couldn’t.

You loved Thor even though he probably didn’t love you back, and the little girl was a part of him too.

That’s why you named her Andora, according to Google it meant Thor’s Eagle.

That’s why you always read her stories about the Nordic Mythology, you wanted her to know her father even though he didn’t know about her.

What you didn’t expect was for her to have powers, you should’ve expected that — her father could control lighting after all.

Having a newborn who can control water but doesn’t know how to control it is a mess.

But you may know who can help you.

Two years later

“Stark! My friend, how have you been?” Thor asks as he enters the living room of the Stark Tower, where Tony is sitting, drinking whiskey.

“Look who shows his face around from time to time!” Tony chuckles, glancing up and down at Thor.

“How long has it been since I came here? One year and half I believe.”

“Yeah, while you were out on the galaxy we fought aliens again, why didn’t you come back? We could’ve used some help.”

“I came back…Like a year and a half ago, I went to see Fury, we had a little chat and…I didn’t find any other reason to come back after that.” Thor looks away.

“What do you mean?” Tony walks towards him confused.

“He told me that Y/N died during the alien attack.” Tony chokes on his whiskey as he looks at him, “She was the love of my life, why should I protect a planet that doesn’t have her in it?”

“Thor.” Tony places and hand on Thor’s shoulder, “Y/N is alive and well.”

“Don’t joke on this, Tony.” Thor brushes his hand off.

“I’m not joking, listen.” Tony places the glass on the table “I don’t know why Fury lied to you but Y/N is alive and living on the floor just above us.”

“What?”

“Two years ago she came to me asking for help with her daughter, who could control water.”

“Daughter?” Thor’s head is spinning.

“That little girl is the spitting image of you, man, if I were Y/N I’d sue you and the baby girl.” Tony shakes his head, but before he can add anything else Thor is already running on the upper floor.

Why did Fury lie to him? Why didn't you search for him?

He knock on the door of one of the apartments on the floor.

"Coming!" Oh, your voice is the same sweet melody he remembers. He hears giggles from behind the door and then you open the door.

Your smile immediately fades as you see the man standing right outside your door.

You knew that living in the Stark Tower meant that you were going to meet him sooner or later but it's been one year and half since you moved here and he never showed up.

"Oh, Y/N you are as beautiful as I the day I last saw you, you haven't aged a bit." He looks at you with a smile, sure, your body has changed a little - you gained some weight because of the pregnancy - but you're still the woman he loves.

He tries to wrap his arms around you and hug you but you push him away.

"What do you think you're doing?" You ask, your hands on his pecks as you push him away. "You disappeared for two years now you suddenly come back and act all friendly?"

"Y/N, my love, I'm so sorry but I did come back! Fury told me you were killed in the alien attack." He looks at you with his sad puppy eyes, the same eyes you loved.

The same eyes as your daughter's.

"Why would he tell you that?" You ask skeptical.

"I don't know, but believe me when I tell you I was completely destroyed by that." He takes your hands in his, "So I decided to never come back on Midgard because you were the only reason I kept coming back...If only I knew that you were alive and carrying my daughter I would've never, ever, left." He gently kisses the back of your hand.

"Who told you about her?" You ask, not having the heart to move your hand away from his hold.

"Tony did, five minutes ago." Thor glances behind you, "Can I see her?"

You look at his waiting eyes, trying to decide whether you should let him meet Andora or not.

But from the look in his eyes you can tell that he already loves her, you nod and move to make him enter.

"Andora! Come here, baby." You gently call for her, you can see Thor's eyes widening more as he hear the name.

"You called her Andora?" He repeats in a whisper, "Does...Does she know who I am?"

You nod, "I told her stories about you and told her that her daddy was on a long mission saving the galaxy but that he would come back eventually...I didn't know if you'd actually come back but it was easier to let her believe that way."

"Mommy!" You hear a small voice call for you, followed by small but quick footsteps.

Once he sees her Thor can't help but agree with Tony, that little girl looks just like him: blonde hair, blue eyes, same lips and she's slightly taller than average.

Andora stops as she sees the man standing next to you, then smiles and runs towards him.

"Daddy back!" She says happily, Thor picks her up and holds her against his chest.

"Yeah, daddy's back." He says gently, caressing her head as she wraps her legs around his waist.

You can't hold back the smile that forms on your face in seeing the two of them finally together, you wouldn't admit it but you hoped this day would come, letting your baby girl meet her dad.

The hours slip by since Thor walked back into your life.

Now, you're sitting in the living room, the low hum of the city outside barely a distraction from the tension between you and Thor. He sits across the room, his large frame somehow hunched, shoulders heavy with guilt. Andora is in his lap, babbling happily, her tiny fingers gripping a strand of his golden hair.

“Daddy! You have long hair! Mommy cuts mine. Maybe I cut yours?” she says, her words coming out in the sweet, muddled way toddlers speak.

Thor chuckles softly, a sound you haven't heard in so long. “Maybe not, little one. But I’m glad you like it.”

You watch them from the couch, arms crossed tightly over your chest, unsure of what to do with this scene. It’s surreal, seeing them together. Andora has taken to him faster than you thought, almost like she always knew he was meant to be here. After all the stories you’ve told her, the drawings you showed her, it’s as if she’s just meeting a long-lost friend.

But for you? This feels… complicated.

“Thor,” you say, breaking the relative silence. He looks up at you, eyes still soft with wonder as he holds his daughter. “Can we talk?”

He nods, and carefully lifts Andora off his lap, setting her down on the floor with her toys. “Why don’t you play with your dolls for a little while?” he suggests, ruffling her hair.

“’Kay!” she chirps, already distracted by her stuffed animals.

You watch her for a moment before turning your gaze back to Thor, your heart heavy. “This doesn’t change anything, you know.”

He looks at you with a mix of pain and hope. “I know,” he says quietly. “But I’m here now, Y/N. I’m not going to walk away again.”

Your fingers clench, tension rising in your chest. “You did walk away, though. You left. I needed you. She needed you.”

Thor’s expression crumbles a bit as you speak, and for a moment, the god of thunder looks as vulnerable as anyone else. “I thought you were dead, Y/N. Fury told me… he told me you were gone. I had no reason to come back.”

“And you didn’t question it?” Your voice trembles with the frustration you’ve been holding in for two years. “You didn’t try to find out more, to… I don’t know, feel something?”

He shakes his head, his blue eyes pleading for you to understand. “I was devastated. Losing you, believing I lost you, was unbearable. I didn’t have it in me to question anything. I…” He pauses, his hands tightening into fists. “I left because I couldn’t face a world without you.”

You close your eyes, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. “You left me, Thor. You left us.”

There’s a silence that stretches between you, heavy and sharp. You feel him watching you, and it’s clear that this isn’t easy for him. But it wasn’t easy for you either. Raising Andora alone, carrying the weight of his absence… You’ve been strong for so long, but now, faced with him again, all of it is unraveling.

“I know I failed you,” Thor says softly, his voice thick with regret. “I failed you both. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but please… let me try to make it right. Let me be a father to her.”

His words hit you hard, and you glance over at Andora, who is now giggling softly as she talks to her toys. She’s only two, but she’s smart, more perceptive than you’d expect for her age. And she’s already fallen for Thor, without hesitation.

“Mommy?” Andora calls out, looking up at you with her wide, curious eyes. “Daddy stay? He read me stories?”

You swallow, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. She’s been asking for a real bedtime story from Thor since the moment she realized he was her father. And now she looks at you, her little face full of hope, so much like his.

“Maybe just one,” you finally say, your voice softer than before. You feel your resolve crumbling, just a little.

Thor smiles, his eyes glinting with gratitude as he stands up. “One story, then,” he says gently, moving over to where Andora sits. He lifts her into his arms with such care, holding her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. And to him, she probably is.

You follow them down the hall to Andora’s room, leaning against the doorframe as Thor settles into a chair, Andora perched on his knee, listening intently as he begins to tell her one of the stories you’ve read to her countless times. But this time, it’s different.

This time, it’s coming from him.

“Once, in the great kingdom of Asgard,” Thor begins, his deep voice soft but powerful, drawing Andora in completely. Her tiny hands clutch his arm, her blue eyes—so much like his—wide with fascination. You can’t help but watch, your heart torn between the pain of the past and the warmth of seeing them together now.

As the story goes on, Andora starts to yawn, her eyelids growing heavy. Thor’s voice quiets, and he gently places her down in her bed, tucking her in with a tenderness that surprises you. He brushes a kiss to her forehead, whispering something you can’t hear.

When he stands up, he glances at you, and for the first time tonight, you don’t feel the anger burning as fiercely inside you. You’re still hurt, still unsure if you can trust him. But you can see the love in his eyes—for Andora, for you—and maybe, just maybe, it’s enough to give him a chance.

“We’ll see,” you whisper, your voice steady this time, as you meet his gaze. “But it’s going to take time.”

Three Months Later

Thor stands on the balcony of Stark Tower, watching the city lights flicker like stars beneath him. The wind whips through his long hair, but his mind is far from the bustling streets below. He’s thinking about you—how much has changed in these past three months and how much still hasn’t.

You’ve let him be part of Andora’s life, and for that, he’s grateful beyond measure. He never tires of spending time with his daughter, watching her discover the world around her, a world she’s already learning to shape in ways neither of you expected. The first time she summoned water from the sink to swirl around her tiny hand, she had giggled, thinking it was a game. But Thor knew what it meant—Andora had inherited powers, like him, but tied to water.

It was a gift, one that both scared and amazed you. You’ve been trying to help her control it, and Thor has been there every step of the way, guiding her when she calls the rain or forms droplets into little shapes to show you. He loves seeing the pride in her eyes when she succeeds, and the way she lights up when she knows her father is proud too.

But his heart aches for more.

He knows you still hold back, keeping a wall up between the two of you. The pain from his disappearance lingers, even though you’ve allowed him back into Andora’s life. You’re kind, even friendly sometimes, but you’re cautious, and he understands why. Thor wants to fix it—no, needs to fix it—but he isn’t sure how.

That’s where Tony Stark comes in.

“You’ve got that brooding god face again, Blondie,” Tony’s voice breaks through Thor’s thoughts, pulling him back to the present. He turns to see Tony stepping onto the balcony, a glass of whiskey in one hand and his signature smirk in place.

Thor sighs, leaning against the railing. “It is not so simple, Stark.”

Tony takes a sip, then looks at Thor with a raised eyebrow. “Let me guess. You’re thinking about Y/N.”

Thor grunts in agreement, his gaze shifting back to the city. “She has allowed me to be part of Andora’s life. But with her… things are still… strained. I fear I’ve lost her.”

Tony lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You haven’t lost her. She’s just… you know, dealing with the whole ‘you thought she was dead’ thing. Which, if I’m being honest, is a pretty big hurdle to get over.”

Thor doesn’t argue. He knows Tony is right. Still, there’s a flicker of hope deep inside him, and he refuses to give up on the love he once had with you.

“I want to make things right,” Thor says, his voice low. “But I do not know how to win her heart again.”

Tony taps his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “You’re asking for my help? You want the great Tony Stark to play matchmaker?”

Thor rolls his eyes. “I seek your advice, not your… matchmaking skills.”

Tony grins, leaning against the balcony next to Thor. “Well, lucky for you, I happen to be an expert in charming the ladies.”

“I believe Pepper might disagree.”

Tony waves his hand dismissively. “Details, details. What I’m saying is, Y/N doesn’t need some grand gesture or heroic display. She’s already seen you in battle, she knows you’re a god. What she needs is to see that you care about the little things—the human stuff.”

Thor frowns. “The… human stuff?”

“Yeah, you know, things that show her you’re paying attention to her, not just showing off your lightning powers.” Tony pauses, then his face lights up. “Start small. Do things that’ll make her day easier. Watch Andora when she’s busy, cook a meal. And for God’s sake, talk to her. Like, really talk.”

Thor considers this for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. He’s always been a man of action, of grand gestures and battles fought. But this—what Tony is suggesting—seems almost… simple. And yet, maybe that’s what you need.

“Show her you’re here for the long haul,” Tony adds, clapping Thor on the shoulder. “You’re not the guy who left. You’re the guy who’s staying. You want her to fall in love with that version of you.”

Thor looks at Tony, a spark of determination flickering in his chest. “I will try your way, Stark. But if this fails—”

“If this fails,” Tony interrupts, “then we’ll regroup and come up with Plan B. But trust me, this is a good start.”

With renewed resolve, Thor nods, already imagining what small things he could do for you. He’s going to show you, step by step, that he’s different now. That he’s staying. He watches Tony head back inside, his mind racing with possibilities.

Suddenly, a small splash of water hits his foot. He looks down to see Andora toddling over, a grin on her face as she holds her hand up, a little ball of water swirling around her fingers.

“Daddy! Look!” she squeals, the ball of water growing a little larger before she accidentally loses control of it, splashing them both.

Thor laughs, scooping her up into his arms. “Very impressive, little one.”

“Mommy says I gotta practice,” she babbles, resting her head against his shoulder. “I gonna make a big water dragon someday!”

Thor smiles, holding her close. “I’m sure you will. But for now, perhaps we keep the dragons small.”

Andora giggles, and Thor can’t help but feel a surge of love for the little girl in his arms.

He glances toward the living room, where you’re sitting, unaware of the plan forming in his mind. It’s time for him to win back your heart, not as the god of thunder, but as the man who loves you. The man who’s staying.

Time skip

You never thought you'd see Thor again, much less have him back in your life, trying so hard to be part of it. At first, you were cautious, walls built high around your heart to protect yourself from the hurt he caused when he left. But he’s been… different since he came back. Patient, steady, and genuinely trying to make amends.

At first, it was little things. He’d take over watching Andora when you were swamped with work or needed a break. You’d find him and your daughter sitting at the kitchen table, her face lit up with glee as he conjured tiny rainstorms to entertain her. Once, you walked in to find him brushing Andora’s hair and telling her stories about his adventures in Asgard, his deep voice soothing as she giggled at the funny parts.

It warmed your heart, even though you resisted. You couldn’t let yourself fall for him again so easily, no matter how much seeing him with Andora softened you.

Then, there were the moments that took you by surprise. One evening, after a particularly rough day, you came home to find dinner already prepared. Thor stood in the kitchen, awkwardly stirring a pot of stew. It wasn’t perfect—he had clearly overcooked it, and there was a mess of flour and spices all over the counter—but it was the thought that floored you.

“You made this?” you asked, half-amused, half-shocked.

He looked at you sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to help. You’ve done so much already. I thought I could… make things a little easier.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you sat down at the table, watching him try so hard to do something that came so naturally to you. It was messy, imperfect, and yet… it was endearing. You didn’t say much that night, but something inside you softened.

Then there was the day Andora first lost control of her water powers in a big way. She had been excited, showing you how she could make water rise from her cup, but it spiraled out of control quickly. Water splashed across the floor, soaking the both of you. You were already tired and overwhelmed, and the last thing you needed was another mess to clean up.

Before you could even react, Thor swooped in, kneeling beside Andora with a gentle smile. “It’s alright, little one,” he said softly, as Andora’s lip quivered. “We’ll clean it up together. You’re doing so well.”

He didn’t reprimand her, didn’t get frustrated. He just helped her calm down, his presence soothing her like magic. And then, he cleaned up the mess himself, all while making sure Andora felt safe and proud of what she could do.

You watched him with your daughter, feeling that wall around your heart crack a little more.

Little by little, Thor chipped away at the barriers you’d built between you. He never pushed, never demanded your forgiveness, but he was always there—steady, dependable, the man you’d fallen in love with so long ago.

There were nights when you’d sit together on the balcony after Andora went to bed, the city lights stretching out before you. Sometimes, neither of you said a word. Other times, he’d tell you about his travels across the realms, how he had thought of you every day, and how lost he felt when he believed you were gone. He didn’t ask for anything in return—just your company. And slowly, you found yourself wanting to be there with him.

One evening, after Andora had fallen asleep in Thor’s lap, her little hand clutching his, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d spent the evening together, the three of you, and it had felt… natural. Like a family.

As Thor carried Andora to bed, you watched him tuck her in with such care, brushing a kiss to her forehead before turning to leave her room. When he saw you standing in the doorway, a warm look passed between you, one that made your chest tighten.

Later that night, as you sat beside him on the couch, the quiet between you was comfortable, not strained like it once had been. You turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Thor?”

He looked at you, his eyes soft and filled with that familiar warmth. “Yes, Y/N?”

You took a deep breath, unsure of how to say what had been weighing on you for so long. “I’ve been trying to figure this out… figure us out. And I’ve realized something.”

His expression tensed slightly, as if bracing himself for what you were about to say. “What is it?”

You hesitated, then reached out, your hand finding his. “I don’t want to hold onto the past anymore. I don’t want to keep punishing you—or myself—for what happened. You’ve changed. You’re here. And… I’m ready to try again. If you are.”

The relief that washed over his face was palpable, his grip on your hand tightening. “I never stopped wanting to try, Y/N. I never stopped loving you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for the first time in so long, you let yourself truly feel it again—the love you had for him. The love that had been buried under hurt and fear but had never really gone away. You leaned in, resting your forehead against his, the closeness grounding you.

“I love you too,” you whispered, the words freeing in a way you hadn’t expected.

Thor closed his eyes, his breath shuddering as if he had been holding it for years. And when his lips met yours, it was gentle, almost tentative, like he was still afraid of breaking something fragile. But the kiss deepened, and with it, the certainty that you were no longer broken. You were healing—together.

Six Months Later

The sound of Andora’s laughter fills the air as you sit together in the park, watching her chase after a small stream of water she’s controlling with her tiny hands. She’s gotten better at it, thanks to Thor’s guidance. Now, instead of accidents, she’s able to play, the water swirling in graceful patterns around her.

“Daddy! Mommy! Look!” she squeals, sending the water into the shape of a dragon, just as she had promised months ago.

Thor grins, standing beside you with an arm draped over your shoulder. “That’s my girl,” he says proudly, watching as Andora beams with pride.

You smile, leaning into him, feeling the weight of everything that’s happened between you lift away. You’re not perfect—there are still moments when the past catches up, when doubts creep in—but you’re moving forward, together.

And as you watch your daughter run toward you, her little face full of joy and confidence, you know that this is the family you always dreamed of. A family that wasn’t just held together by love but built on trust, forgiveness, and the decision to keep trying.

Thor presses a kiss to the top of your head, his voice soft in your ear. “I will love you both for all of my days.”

You smile, resting your hand over his. “And we’ll love you for all of ours.”

[wonryllis]

please give writing tips too

sure love! everyone’s different so in no way would the same things work for all but these are some tips that have helped me improve and just you know expand my horizons.

feel free to add your own points to this to help people more!!

001. READ READ AND READ (I CAN’T STRESS ENOUGH ON THIS BUT THIS IS THE MAIN KEY). be it fics, or novels or normal story books even non-fiction. reading will help in expanding your vocabulary and grammar, and give you an idea on how to build words in different kinds of scenarios. how to set the mood and what kind of details will have the most impact.

002. for expanding your vocabulary i would suggest searching up words you come across and don’t know the meaning of. don’t skip them, search them up and try understanding what they mean and look through what other words have similar meanings(synonyms)

003. CONSTANTLY PRACTICE WRITING. even if you’re not going to post it anywhere, just try writing a little bit on different themes. in that way you will be able to find out more about your writing style and flair as well as what points you need to work on.

004. STOP HESITATING TO REWRITE. there’s hardly anything one gets right at the first shot. and the same goes for writing. rewriting pieces will help you figure out what you should’ve added that you didn’t the first time and how changing the order of words or adding new literary devices(metaphors, similes, anecdotes etc) can make more of an impact.

005. DON’T BE AFRAID TO EXPLORE DIFFERENT GENRES. just 100 words can also help with experience. search up different genres that interest you and try coming up with a short scenario if you can.

13 points more under the cut!

006. TRIAL AND ERROR. don’t be let down if you fail to write a specific type of au, theme or trope. it takes certain amount of time and experience to be able to write different genres or anything as such. you need to have exposure to that topic to be able to create imagination on it.

007. with that being said, when you pick up a certain trope, au, theme or any topic you want/plan to write on: DO PROPER AND A LOT OF RESEARCH. trust me, it helps a lot.

008. as well in relation to the point above when writing a story, make sure to plan a rough outline. what kind of characters you’re going for, what events are going to define your story, how do you want the ending and the beginning to be. what your protagonist(s) is going for, what all they would be facing throughout and such.

009. SET A MORAL/POINT OF VIEW YOU WANT TO CONVEY through your writing. it helps you have a basis, a particular aim and drive behind what you wish to leave an impression through. it could be anything complex like dark themes of toxicity or even anything as simple as comfort. you just need to know what you’re writing for.

010. for inspiration i would suggest, LISTENING TO SONGS. any song you’re listening to, try thinking of a story behind it. for example let’s take taylor swift’s “no body no crime” go through the lyrics, the vibe and think what type of story could have this as background music. or what kind of a story could have that type of no body no crime summary?

011. KNOW WHEN TO SHOW THINGS RATHER THAT TELLING THEM. too much of anything is never good. when writing, it’s important to keep the balance between descriptions, narratives and dialogues. try thinking what are the things that would be better when described, for example the relationship between your characters: it’s something which is better shown than told. like how they treat each other, how they see each other, their dynamics in general is not something that can be told through a big lengthy dialogue or JUST one paragraph(short drabbles being an exception)

012. an additional point to the one above would be, try keeping yourself in the reader’s position and see what pulls you in more. what makes you feel the emotions better.

013. PICTURE THE SETTING YOU WANT TO WRITE ON. close your eyes and think of any type of place that you would like to write the story in. a suburb? or an abandoned city for an apocalypse? this will help in brainstorming for ideas.

014. INTO THE CHARACTER’S MIND. this is a very important point. explore the world within the mind of the character, something that defines them. THIS IS ANOTHER BIG KEY TO IMPROVE, pull your readers into the character(s)’ mind, show them the fears, the memories, the feelings, the thoughts, the hopes and dreams. it helps them understand the character and get into the story.

015. when using dialogues keep in mind that the DIALOGUES SHOULD ALWAYS BE MEANINGFUL AND REALISTIC. unnecessary talks aren’t often attractive so write what is necessary, needed. even with humor, excessive fun is not always impressive. and short but impactful dialogues always literally always leave the best impression.

016. CHALLENGE YOURSELF. try starting off strong since the very beginning. strong meaning starting off with words that leave a lasting impression. or words that pull you in with intrigue.

017. LEARN TO PACE YOURSELF. first of all it’s okay to take a break. actually its very important. pushing yourself beyond limits would never give positive results. know when you need to stop, cause being tired is not going to give better ideas or better word building. let yourself go into writer’s block, don’t fight it. you’ll come back better than when you’re forcing yourself to stay put and continue.

018. and last but not least. KNOW THAT IMPROVEMENT TAKES TIME. don’t be disappointed or discouraged if you are not good today. not being good today doesn’t mean you won’t ever be good. keep trying and with little to little progress over time, you will see yourself getting there. don’t lose hope🤗! YOU CAN DO IT!!!

[feraliminal]

Just wondering, how do you think Skibidi Toilet will affect tech-head (camera, speakers and TV) character designs afterwards?

Would skibidi toilet popularity cause such character designs to be immediately reminding people of skibidi toilet? Mind you, I actually like skibidi toilet series. But the latest news about Michael Bay adapting it means it'll probably get a lot bigger in public consciousness, and I don't want to be seen as a rip-off.

Oh, that’s a super interesting question, and one of the first I’ve had! (Note to people in general, I have the “must be invited” vampire autism, so I’m not great at being outgoing, but I am friendly really, so feel free to ask stuff or say hi!) My first thought from a fandom anthropology perspective would be to check out if there’s any precedents and how that’s played out. Unfortunately nothing comes to mind about how to find that out.

So I think what I’d say is that some people who aren’t really familiar with object heads might assume that tech head characters are from Skibidi Toilet, but people who are actually interested in the character concepts won’t. And that spontaneously (or even not spontaneously) having the same ideas as other people is totally normal, and worrying about that is also totally normal, but you shouldn’t let it hold you back from sharing your creativity. You know that what you’re doing is yours, people who are genuinely interested in your character/s will love them, and people who are unfairly judging them at face value aren’t worth worrying about.

I expect that it might happen a little bit, because people do confuse similar-looking genres - like some people believe that all Western animation is Disney or all anime is naughty tentacles. But on the bright side, the Alliance factions do have a specific look - types of camera/speaker/TV, clothing styles, colour schemes, post-apocalyptic setting, etc. I’d expect that would probably continue into a film, and it would function similar to other genres of character - everyone knows about Dracula, but vampire characters aren’t considered rip-offs of Dracula unless they’ve got the cape, the widow’s peak, etc. And even if they are derivative, eg. Alucard from Hellsing, they can still be really original and fascinating characters in their own right.

Also, there’s the question of whether even it matters if something appears accidentally derivative. I’d very much like to say it absolutely shouldn’t. If you’ve had the idea, and you know it came from you, then it’s your idea, and it’s just one of those pranks that the universe plays if someone else had the same idea. Another point of view could be that there’s no original ideas - there’s a theory called “cultural universals” that says the same symbols keep showing up in different cultures because they mean something about how we understand the world.

“Human-shaped things with non-human heads”, for example, are a trope as old as human culture. Animal-headed people are the oldest. I’m including a pic of the Dancing Sorcerer, because I love them and have used their concept a ton in my non-fandom life even if they might not actually be that authentic an example of cave art (and actually a story about someone interpreting a smudgy sketch as a deer-person, and then as a sorcerer, is also interesting). The lion man is authentic. A pretty direct ancestor of today’s object heads could be Japanese tsukumogami from the 12th century or earlier. We obviously personify animals as being like us because we can see they behave a bit like us, but in the case of personified objects, the connection is that humans personify everything because we’re so good at spotting emotion - it’s so important for maintaining relationships with other humans to know that, for example, a person we treat badly will be upset that we also worry that a tool we mistreated won’t work because it’s upset too. That’s useful in itself because then we take better care of our stuff.

However, in reality, it’s hard to get over worrying about being derivative. I’m autistic and returning to fandom after a five-something year absence, so I’m still not comfortable with the unspoken social norms. Looking like I’ve swiped someone else’s idea is one of the (many haha) things that scares me, and I’ve abandoned unfinshed fic because someone else has written/drawn something that’s… kind of maybe the same if you peer between your legs and look at it upside down.

It actually annoys me how many ideas I’ve abandoned or haven’t been able to finish because I’m worried about people’s reactions - but no one’s actually reacted really badly at all. I wouldn’t want anyone else to have the same experience. And if I was advising someone else in the same situation as me, I’d say that it doesn’t matter if something is kind of similar at first, it’s how originally it’s used that matters. Anyone accusing someone of swiping an idea or being derivative or somesuch just because they happened to have the same idea at the same time (and aren’t actually, like, copy-and-pasting bits of someone’s fic or something) is just being a massive wanker. Even in the world of making media for money, people have the same ideas all the time - like schools where children learn magic, an impulsive character with a red colour theme and, probably one of the oldest themes, a hero maturing by going on a journey and facing a challenge. Check out the TV Tropes wiki for endless examples, because some of these themes really are older than dirt.

[original-writing]

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