#Havana au fic

[field-s-of-flowers]

Oh this is just for my great comet followers, but I won’t be continuing the Havana au because

I no longer ship Maryalene

I don’t know what’s going on in the gc/w&p fandom right now but I’m not touching that shit with a ten-foot pole

If you need me I’ll be in the hadestown fandom trying to tune out anyone other than my mutuals

#soph’s posts #great comet #havana au #<- this is the last time I’ll be using that tag #For a while at least #I also have other multi-chapter fics to work on #My toh one and my atla one #For example

[melis-writes]

You're Still My Brother [Godfather Part II AU].

Read on AO3. | Fanfic Masterlist | Fic and Prompt Requests Info.

18+, explicit oneshot.

Death is clipping at Fredo Corleone's heels and there's only one way out of Havana tonight. With chaos ensuing from the rebels and the kiss of death sealing Fredo's fate from Michael, Fredo's heart gives in. Helpless, desperate and terrified of his brother, Michael manipulates his Fredo's good nature into trusting him and leaving Cuba together. Hyman Roth and Johnny Ola are dead, or so Michael has Fredo believe in but Michael has no intention of letting Fredo leave Cuba alive.

[WARNINGS]: Heavy angst / Character death / Strangulation / Fratricide / Hurt with no comfort.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: From one of my favourite, angsty scenes from The Godfather Part II, here comes an AU oneshot I came up with in one sitting tonight with Fredo actually leaving Havana with Michael…💔 I had always wondered what would have happened in Fredo got into that car with Michael, how he would be convinced, what Michael would say and what would come next. 🥺 Playing on emotionally manipulative strings and lies in this AU, I've made Michael seal Fredo's fate differently. This is my first Godfather oneshot/fic that isn't X Reader, romance or smut related!! 🤭💕 I definitely plan to write more as they come amidst updating my multi-chapter fics! Heavy, HEAVY angst in this oneshot with all tags/warnings applying, just a heads up!! 👀🫡

Panic. Mass confusion. Violence answers the questions of the innocent, the confused, and the helpless. Michael’s amongst them, but not one of them.

Aside from the rebels leaving nothing but destruction and the ensuing chaos in their wake around the vicinity, Michael remains to be among the very scattered few who neither fear nor react to the violence surrounding them.

Seemingly coordinated enough on New Year’s Eve, Michael’s more than well aware of the threat the rebels have been posing at all times.

It was enough to see rebels give their own lives in order to take one of the police officers in front of Michael’s eyes to convince him the rebels would take any opportunity to spill blood and fight back even if cornered regardless of the consequences.

Despite the ongoing panic, Michael knows he is in no true danger nor is he a target of the rebels just as he knows the party is over and he has outstayed his welcome as have all the guests at the president’s party.

Michael slipped through the packs of crowds rushing out onto the street and did so without attracting unnecessary attention, but the same couldn’t be said for his brother.

Fredo pushed through anyone and everyone who got in front of him the moment before the onset of the violence began.

Fredo was already running for his life with fear swelling in his heart because of Michael; the truth of his betrayal was never as clever as any lie Fredo could tell Michael or any way Fredo could pretend he didn’t cause an attempted assassination on Michael’s life.

The darkness in Michael’s heart confirmed the death wish he bestowed upon his brother by sealing the kiss of death over Fredo.

Now, no explanation, no apology, and no justification can exist in this world where Michael may exercise mercy or forgiveness over his own brother.

As death itself follows at Fredo’s heels, his only escape is to flee Havana but hiding elsewhere in Cuba will spare his life longer so as long as Fredo doesn’t return to where Michael has eyes and ears in the United States.

With tears stinging his eyes and whimpers of fear escaping his trembling lips, Fredo’s breath quivers as he sprints out of the presidential palace; taking as many twists and turns as he can.

But it’s only a matter of mere moments before the planned attack takes place at the same time; its sole benefit helping Fredo blend in with the rest of the outpouring crowd seconds later.

Michael’s chauffeur never strayed far from the presidential palace; parked just a few meters away from the side of the building with intentions to take Michael and Fredo to the airport to catch their private jet later on this evening.

Standing by the vehicle now, Michael keeps the passenger door open with one hand over its rim as he looks out for any signs of his brother amidst the terrified crowds.

Fredo has no choice but to slow down the steps of the presidential palace when he spots the rioting rebels, seeing no prying eyes over him.

Among dozens of other black and white suits, Fredo is almost impossible to spot—mirroring the same body language as other rushing guests.

The vehicles of the rebels arrived in a circle around the presidential palace, honking incessantly and powering the noise and hollering of its drivers and the other rebels.

Rebels armed with bats and clubs swing at the pillars of the presidential palace and the windows of nearby guest vehicles, only causing further alarm.

Swallowing hard, Fredo stumbles down one of the steps and frantically looks around him to find some route of escape—seeing some guests have already gotten into taxis and nearby vehicles.

 “Argh—” Fredo grunts out in surprise as a couple accidentally bumps into him—ramming their shoulders into his back.

Fredo almost trips down the next set of stairs before him, catching his balance before Michael’s eyes land on his brother just across from him in his line of sight now.

“Fredo!” Michael calls out from afar, shrouded in the darkness where he stands away from streetlights or any direction crowds run toward.

Fredo freezes in his tracks, feeling his muscles instantly tense up from nothing but utter horror at the sight of his brother; pure fear triggering Fredo’s fight or flight response.

Fredo’s fear of his own brother has intensified and tripled in a matter of moments back in the presidential palace to the point where Fredo trembles in Michael’s presence and practically feels nauseous being under his brother’s gaze.

Fredo’s eyes widen as his mouth runs dry, eyeing his brother’s body language for immediate resentment and hostility.

“Come on!” Michael gestures out with his hand towards him; only appearing as a concerned brother insistent on helping his brother and escaping together.

Nothing over Michael’s expression or tone of voice resembles the putrid hatred that promised death to Fredo minutes back at the presidential palace.

Refusing, Fredo begins to slowly turn around but keeps his eyes on his brother as his body screams for Fredo to move away.

“It’s the only way out of here tonight,” Michael hollers back, noticing Fredo beginning to pull away. “Roth is dead!”

Naturally, the fate Michael planned and anticipated for Hyman Roth has failed unbeknownst to him but with Fredo’s betrayal stemming from Hyman Roth and Johnny Ola, it appears to be very convincing and tempting.

Still, the fear Fredo feels towards his own brother is all the more overpowering and there’s not a shred of trust nor hope left in Fredo to believe in Michael’s words.

Michael extends out his hand, seeing his words having no effect on his brother. “FREDO!��

Fredo forces himself to keep moving—staggering through the remaining crowd down the steps but with his head still turned towards Michael as if Fredo expects him to follow or lunge after him.

“Fredo, come with me!” Michael raises his voice above the noise of the crowds; seeing his brother is about to run off entirely. “You’re still my brother!”

Fredo’s just begun to rush off again into the crowd but stops at Michael’s words—the most convincing above all, promising they’re still family.

“Fredo!” Michael takes a step further, beginning to move in Fredo’s direction and away from the vehicle. “FREDO!”

Sensing no harm or ill intention from Michael amongst danger and chaos, Fredo’s good nature does not lie to him but coaxes his heart to trust in Michael and escape out of Havana with his brother.

In Michael now, Fredo wants to see his brother’s emotional vulnerability; despite everything, family ties and bonds never break, despite everything, Michael would want no harm to come to Fredo and certainly not here.

“You’re still my brother!”

Fredo turns back around to Michael and swears to himself he can see a pleading look in Michael’s eyes, past the shadows that keep him almost completely concealed.

Tears spring from Fredo’s eyes as he runs toward his brother, unaware he’s accepting his damned fate but giving his trust, love, and belief in safety to Michael.

Michael steps aside to let Fredo into the passenger seat, moving to the other side of the vehicle to get in for himself.

Fredo scurries inside and slams the car door behind him; a pitiful state of worry and exhaustion over him compared to Michael who still remains composed and calm.

Michael does the same, needing to give no signal or word to his chauffeur who immediately begins to drive off in the opposite direction of the presidential palace.

For a moment as Michael’s preoccupied with looking towards the chauffeur and windshield to see what’s ahead of him, neither he nor Fredo say a word to each other nor make eye contact.

Fredo peeks out the window to see hoards of people pushing into the US Embassy and pleading with the guards by the gate for safety; everyone fending for themselves in desperate hopelessness.

Fredo even spots a private jet beginning to take off as others help their family onto nearby boats and ships eager to get off the dock.

As the vehicle continues to move and navigate around the rebels and crowds with ease, Fredo flinches at the sight of the rebels setting nearby garbage cans on fire and rushing into the presidential palace itself.

With all of this occurring in mere seconds as the violence worsens and fires spread to smashed-in vehicles and broken goods from inside the presidential palace, Michael’s eyes land on his brother inside the car once again.

Fredo catches Michael’s gaze, looking as pale as a ghost with worry crossing his eyes as the vehicle now begins to slow through crowds clamoring at every angle.

Michael’s chauffeur keeps his composure, honking again and again as he continues to drive.

Michael knits his brows, gazing out both windows and somewhat concerned himself not about the damage the rebels continue to do, but what can come from the panicking and desperate mobs of people surrounding the car.

“O-Oh my God,” Fredo shudders as the vehicle finally begins to pick up its speed and separate from the crowds.

In a split second, Michael makes eye contact with the chauffeur through the rearview mirror, signaling a change in the destination; one out of sight with no one to hear anyone’s helpless screams.

Fredo doesn’t notice, nervously sitting next to Michael and looking down to see his fingers trembling uncontrollably in his lap just from Michael’s presence.

“We’re almost out,” Michael finally speaks; his voice calm and soothing enough for Fredo to believe it.

Fredo keeps his eyes on the road, refusing to relax and snap out of his alarmed state until the car drives much further down the road and Fredo’s unable to hear the rebellion behind him.

“The plane—” Fredo stammers, swallowing. “Are we getting out of here?”

“We are,” Michael reaffirms as the chauffeur takes a different turn to drive upon the side of the road where Fredo’s door faces the ocean. “Fredo—” Michael looks at his brother, “it’s fine. It’s over now.”

Fredo gives a glum nod, attempting to relax in his seat. “I don’t know what to say, Mikey. I…”

Fredo’s voice trails off as the car comes to a slow halt by the ocean; the chauffeur avoids looking towards the rearview mirror or making eye contact with either Michael or Fredo.

“I d-don’t…” Fredo’s voice cracks as he attempts to speak again, looking helplessly at his brother.

Michael faces Fredo whose almost too emotional to even realize the car has stopped on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

“Mikey,” Fredo breathes out—his throat tightening as hot tears stream down his cheeks. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—”

“Fredo,” Michael turns his body towards his brother, watching Fredo weep softly and break down in front of him.

“You have to u-understand, Mikey,” Fredo pleads—emotion straining in his voice, “I w-was caught in the middle. I didn’t agree—I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t know it would end up like this—I didn’t know it was gonna be a hit or anything.”

As Michael stares into his brother’s eyes, his grow colder and Fredo’s words ring out to him with no meaning, no justification nor anything worth believing for the man in front of Michael is no longer his brother but a betrayer, a traitor and a stranger bearing the same last name.

Michael gives a small nod to Fredo as if he’s understanding of it all and figured as much for himself, but the chauffeur hits a small button over his door which immediately causes all of the doors to lock.

“Michael—” Fredo croaks, flinching from fear and looking towards his passenger door in alarm.

“Fredo, look at me. Look at me.” Michael detracts Fredo’s attention from reaching out to attempt to open his passenger door—facing his brother directly again. “Listen to me.”

“I d-don’t want anything to happen to you, Mikey,” Fredo blubbers, sobbing.

“Look at me,” Michael cups his brother’s face with both hands, feeling Fredo’s warm tears against his palm. “I know. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Never, ever,” Fredo gives his head a little shake, clutching onto the fabric of Michael’s trousers with a shaky hand. “Y-you’re my brother, my brother—”

“I know,” Michael repeats again, eerily calm compared to Fredo’s distraught state on the verge of a complete mental breakdown.

“I c-could never live it down,” Fredo hiccups, his knuckles turning white from how hard he grips Michael’s trousers.

“And you don’t have to,” Michael replies, wiping a stray tear away from Fredo’s cheek.

“I’m s-scared, Mikey, when you look at me like that—”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Fredo,” Michael lies, “you know that. Wouldn’t I leave you to your fate there if that’s what I wanted?”

“Y-yeah, I guess—” Fredo smiles weakly at Michael, comforted by his brother’s lies. “I love you, Mikey. I j-just want you to know that.”

Shallow, empty words with no meaning that register nothing to Michael. He chooses to ignore them, unshaken by what’s to come next.

“I know,” Michael kisses Fredo’s forehead, slowly moving his hands down to Fredo’s neck.

Fredo’s eyes snap open in terror as Michael wraps his hands around his throat firmly just moments after. “Mikey—"

“Goodbye, Fredo,” Michael immediately begins to exhort force over Fredo’s throat—crushing his esophagus.

Fredo wheezes and whimpers, but can get barely anything other than a whine out. He attempts to thrash out at Michael with his hands but Michael tilts his body back while pinning Fredo onto the car seat to avoid his grip.

Kicking at Michael in the twisted position his body is in doesn’t help nor does kicking at the chauffeur’s car seat who gazes out the window to watch the waves of the sea; completely ignoring the murder ongoing in the back seat.

Fredo’s lungs burn, begging for air as Michael squeezes and applies as much pressure and might as he can with his hands to Fredo’s throat—watching Fredo’s helpless movements slowly coming to a stop.

Wide-eyed and terrified as the life and strength choke out of him, Fredo stares at Michael who remains to be much more physically strong and fit than his brother.

The cold, lifeless expression on Michael’s face doesn’t change throughout as the color drains out of Fredo’s face as Michael continues to strangle him; his grip far too overbearing and tight to squirm out of.

Just a few moments in of helplessly trying to pry Michael’s fingers off his throat, Fredo feels his life slipping away and falls unconscious seconds after.

Michael doesn’t stop there. To ensure his brother’s death once and for all in front of his own eyes, he clutches Fredo’s head in his hands and with one sharp swerve of his hands and arms, snaps his brother's neck.

A sickening crack can be heard out before Michael lets go of Fredo’s lifeless body plopping back down onto the car seat.

Michael breathes in deeply, staring at the corpse of his brother next to him with no reaction; only the relief he’s felt and continues to feel upon having his enemies assassinated.

Not a shred of remorse, guilt, or regret clouds Michael’s judgment or chokes his thoughts.

Michael reaches towards Fredo’s passenger door as the chauffeur unlocks it without looking back; nothing goes through Michael’s mind as he pushes open the door to kick his brother’s corpse out.

Fredo’s body tumbles out of the vehicle and off the ledge leading straight into the ocean on this side of the road.

From the sound of loud traffic afar and waves crashing upon the shore, Michael doesn’t hear Fredo’s body drop into the water nor does he bother to watch it sink.

Instead, Michael sits back in the vehicle and shuts the door as his chauffeur begins driving again, pretending as if nothing happened.

In the chauffeur’s best interest, nothing did happen and he only picked up Michael from the presidential palace. The chauffeur never saw Fredo or even heard that name; the chauffeur isn’t even aware Mr. Corleone had a brother.

“To the airport, Mr. Corleone?” The chauffeur spoke for the first time since Michael got into the vehicle.

“Yes,” Michael confirms, “I have a private flight to catch to Lake Tahoe.”

#the godfather #the godfather part ii #godfather fanfic #michael corleone #michael corleone fanfic #fredo corleone #melis-writes #godfather fanfiction #godfather au

[artificialqueens]

Moving Parts, Havana Nights Timeline (Trixya) - Saiphl

Well, here is the monstrosity.  This text was originally written in Spanish and went through four more languages before getting to the final English version you’re about to read. The language translation chain was the following:

Spanish - Suajili - Dutch - Esperanto - Tagalog - English

As the title says, this is a part of a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG timeline that was meant to be posted since about two years back, still life happens and the original story, called Havana Nights hasn’t been fully written, not posted, so if it doesn’t make sense -even more- feel free to ask. Finally, and before posting it I want to thank @MarCaribe, because without her the original idea for this timeline won’t be even possible.

=============================================================

MOVING PARTS

I always get my jewelry back, more to occupy my hands than more necessary. The sun came up and my hands were shaking like the leaves of an autumn tree. Let me think for a moment what would happen to me if I agreed to marry the way my mother wanted? A bitter laugh left my lips, it would not be just me. I looked at myself again in the mirror, the reflection image gives me an expression of fear.

It took a lot of effort to get here, many years playing small roles and people hearing that a woman’s place is not outside the door of her house and she is her husband’s faithful dog. Years of struggle have passed to remain the person I was when I was in Cuba. The night I left the island was the hardest I have ever encountered in my life.

Probably the hardest thing I ever did … other than drive the Milwaukee road to Chicago when my mother decided that her daughter had been killed by a lesbian in her mirror. On my shoulder the old Fender Dad handed me along with a boat ticket to Havana and in my hand a backpack filled with quick memories of the life I had with my mother.

When I remember that moment in my life, I often approach him; for tropical storm with long legs, sea eyes and hair in the sun: Katya. The one that still causes me to steal every night, the same that gets in my bed like a ghost and leads me somewhere between sleep and awake. Sometimes when I write, it is like sitting in the back of our cabinet on the beach trying to spin the details and the sea behind it with Katya and her always problematic rotation without interruption, but let me know I was there.

At this time, I was wondering what Katya would say? Of course he told me, along with his thick Russian accent and his Russian, Spanish and English words, “Eat, just do what you have to do. Go to that point and show them who my Teresa Martínez is. ” strained, and now more than ever, I wish he was here. I wanted to see her bright white smile reminding me that everything would be fine, with no fear.

The thing is, it’s really a lot of fear. We don’t know what could happen, we don’t know how people will react, I have no idea how he, everyone who hears the radio record, is there. We don’t know if any of the covered protests of my songs will argue the invasion … we don’t know if they will follow us because we have a lot of gay and transgender women listening to a female farmer who is about thirty singing about right denied us. My hands were shaking, they were sweating and I could almost feel a panic attack on my chest.

I have always wanted to be different, to change the world with the power of my voice, which through my words hundreds and thousands of voices can be heard screaming to be heard. Now that it has finally arrived, I am freezing, June 1969 and the world is changing. I’m just not ready to dive.

Suddenly the sound of a knock on the door brought me back from the spiral where I had fallen; Almost immediately Sasha, my manager, and Shea, who introduced us, entered a room that appeared smaller and smaller. They both went from a fun show to a scary one. I looked in the mirror again and what I saw were my painted ornaments, I do not know when I started to cry. Sasha, Sweet and smart Sasha hugged me without even asking. That’s when I realized I can’t blame you … I can’t leave you. They help me so much here that I would be a worse person if I volunteered now.

He almost heard my attitude, he said I could still say no. As soon as I shake my head and try to look him in the eyes, I assure him it is just nervous and I will be ready when they call me on stage. Shea smiled at me, squeezing his shoulder a little, I knew he trusted me. A few minutes later they leave me alone and I start to remove all the damage to my makeup and paint it right.

When I finished the repairs, an assistant knocked on my door. Work must begin. I looked at myself again in the mirror, the eyes that turned to me seemed confident and determined, I focused on the blonde eyes in the mirror and thanks for a nice look at her beautiful curves covered in white cut feet and arms. . Trixie Mattel is ready to change the world number by number. I still feel a lump in my stomach, and I know something will happen, it is a feeling floating in the air.

#rpdr fanfiction #fic challenge #google translate #drabble #saiphl #moving parts #trixya #katya zamolodchikova #trixie mattel #havana nights #lesbian au #1969 #submission

[hannigramficrecs]

Do you have fics where Hannibal is just a simp for Will? He's just so in love and smitten. Thanks. :)

Omg I started making a list of recs and got a little carried away... But in my defense, almost every fic out there is Hannibal being in love with Will!

Sweet Misery by everybreathagift [words: 1,272]

Will has no idea what personal space is. Hannibal hopes he never learns.

Entertain Me by harleygirl2648 [words: 1,383]

Will is drunk and adorable, and Hannibal is so in love that it is gross.

Ma by murdergatsby [words: 1,440]

Will accidentally falls asleep on Hannibal’s couch.

It Means Cute and Dozing Off [words 1,324]

Sleepy Will

Fruitful by Everett_Harte [words: 11,629]

An AU remix of 'Hannibal’. Where they both meet several years before the show, start dating, and get married. And bang, a lot. Just don’t go in the basement.

Falls the Shadow by littlesystems [words: 72,455]

AU where Bedelia is Will’s psychiatrist instead of Hannibal, Will makes a series of increasingly questionable life choices, and no one should ever take Bedelia’s advice. Ever.

This Match Made In Blood by TheSilverQueen [words: 3,680]

Hannibal needs a new secretary, because she was very rude. Will needs a new job, because his boss just turned up as the Chesapeake Ripper’s newest kill. It’s a match made in blood.

Edible by shiphitsthefan [words: 4,376] 

The temptation to take a taste of Will is almost too great for Hannibal to resist. Good thing he isn’t the only one who’s hungry.

Not the Plan by love_in_the_stars [words: 2,011]

Every genius has one weakness in common: their own hubris. Hannibal’s simply took an…unexpected form. For his hubris lay in thinking he could so totally control William Graham and be untouched by him in return. By the time he realizes this mistake it is already too late

Drowning In Need by chronicopheliac [words: 1,230]

Hannibal feels resentful of how attached he’s become to Will. They work it out.

Prey by Miss_Lv [words: 6,943]

During a hunt gone wrong, Hannibal finds a cabin in the woods during a heavy snowstorm. Will is a rude isolated man who allows Hannibal to take shelter with him for the night.

Slice of Life by AVegetarianCannibal [words: 6,332]

It's time to take a look into the life that Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter now share, from cooking together to doing the laundry to taking walks in the balmy Havana evenings. Somehow, most of these things lead to the bedroom.

Only the Tender Meat by Isagel [words: 7,157]

Will has nightmares. Hannibal soothes them.

My Husband by VictoriaAGrey [words: 3,563]

In which Hannibal is a little too smitten and Will figures out Hannibal is That Guy.

By Fire, By Thunder by HotMolasses [words: 13,442]

Hannibal and Will are both sent to the same camp for the summer, where they meet and romance blossoms. Then it turns serious. Then they share something much deeper and darker than normal teenagers, and it leads them into the storm that is each other.

Mon Petit by toffeecape [words: 1,854]

Will is smol. Hannibal loves it. Will knows it.

Canvases by thatviciousvixen [words: 36,660]

When Hannibal meets a handsome artist with a keen interest in death he knows he’s finally met a kindred spirit. All Will needs is a little push.

Daylight Savings by thebeespatella [words: 6,180]

Hannibal sets a test. Will passes with all the colors of the wind. Cue shining eyes and Too Many Feelings

Nice Day for a Red Wedding by xzombiexkittenx [words: 2,129]

It is a quiet, unimportant morning much like any other, when Will decides he wants to marry Hannibal.

Everything I Wanted by CarnivalMirai [words: 5,330]

In which the phrase “but Hannibal…” paired with a pout and a Southern drawl is enough to get Will Graham exactly what he wants.

The Moth and the Dark by emungere [words: 7,511]

One of them has to bend. Hannibal decides it should be him.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal fanfiction #hannigram fanfiction #murder husbands #hannibal au #nbc hannibal #hannibal tv #will graham #hannibal lecter #will x hannibal #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #hannibal fic recs #hannigram fic recs #replies

[tortoisesshells]

I will kinda copycat you buuuut for the fic title game - Moonlight Serenade? 🌙

I have a knee-jerk impulse to write some very grand, high concept 1940s AU of Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl, in which ... the pirates are all war-time smugglers/black-marketeers? They're still cursed, of course, hence Moonlight Serenade. If I'm going to make this easier on myself by setting it on home-turf, perhaps I could shoe-horn in Jack and Barbossa having run rum together in the 30s? Out of Havana? As a kind of stand-in for the Golden Age of Piracy?

(... otherwise, it's the film noir AU for Customs and Duties, in which Nellie was widowed during the Battle of the Atlantic and decides to make ends meet by working as a genteel-ish private eye, which isn't much but it keeps the lights on.)

send me a made-up fic title, and I'll tell you what I would write to go with it!

#my fic #... sorta #ask meme #thank you kind friend! #there's a lot of notes for the customs film noir au which is ... A LOT

[fbfh]

fangirl’s paradise - leo x reader

genre/vibe: romance, adventure, slice of life

word count: 2.8k

pronouns/perspective: first person present, no pronouns (I think), gn reader

au: soulmate kind of?? also traveling to other dimensions/multiverse

pairing: Leo x fic writer!reader

requested: nah

warnings: you think someone broke into your house for a minute, you feel like you’re going crazy for a minute, questionable pop culture/internet references, you get really embarrased about stuff you’ve written, you say fuck a lot, tiddy as an explative

summary: all you wanted to do was write some leo one shots for your blog, but finding out he’s your soulmate is good too

reccomended songs: havana - camila cabello, where do we go from here - amelie obc

a/n: got really meta and self indulgent with this bad boy, probs gonna do a part 2 at some point, cause this got really long and I started to get tired lol. For clarity, you’re from the riordanverse, but ended up in a world where it’s fictional. also some memories were erased. 

requests r open xo

All I wanted to do was dance embarrassingly and sing along to the same playlist I’d been listening to for the past three days in terrible accents while I wait for my ramen to finish cooking. That’s it. I really don’t think that’s too much to ask for. Plus, I’ve been home alone all day, so it’s really not too much to ask for. I flip over the waistband of my sweatpants while shimmying my way to the kitchen. 

“Half of my heart is in havana oh nana,” I sing along off key, in a pseudo growly voice that makes me giggle. I’m going to turn the corner, make myself some ramen, then finish the episode of love island I’ve been watching. Except that’s not what happens.

“He got tha-” I cut myself off with a scream, seeing a stranger in the hall way. He looks up. I scream more, way more, and choke out, “JFK’s left fucking tiddy!”, because this dude is either the best freaking cosplayer ever, or those tiktok reality shifting tutorials actually worked at some point. 

He looks too natural, too organic. The level of detail and strategic imperfection is beyond conscious choice. There’s no way he’s a cosplayer that broke into my house. Also, that would be a super weird crime. 

Either way, I’m standing in front of a dude who looks exactly like Leo Valdez. 

It feels… fake.

I didn’t really notice I’m covering my mouth with my hand to stop my hysterical scream laughs, but I’m able to get it under control after a second. 

He’s looking at me, eyes wide, examining me, probably wondering why I’m acting so erratically. Or why I just spat out such strange bullshit. In my defense, I’ve been watching chaotic tiktok compilations inbetween updating my blog for like, two days straight. Three other people round the corner. I don’t know what I expected, and it shouldn’t have been a surprise at this point, but I’m sure I’m looking no other than at Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, and Piper Mclean. 

“Jesus fucking christ, fuck me with a chainsaw!” I spit, retreating into the kitchen, reminding myself that while they are my favorite characters - and again, somehow real and in front of me? - they’re still technically intruders. I grab the nearest kitchen implement, a pair of red kitchen scissors I’d used to hack open the ramen packet, and point it at them. 

“Woah,” Piper says, “it’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you.” I count to four and breathe in, setting the scissors back down within arms reach. Hold for seven, exhale for eight. I repeated the process again, watching Annabeth whispering to Leo.

I can feel the initial freak out subsiding. I’m starting to calm down a little.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Piper repeats. Well duh, they’re the good guys. A spike of pure what the fuck shoots through me, as I realize I’m already adapting to the fact that fictional fucking characters are standing in my kitchen. Leo’s ignoring Annabeth, and still staring at me, searching my eyes for... something.

Piper’s brow furrows. I call past Piper to Annabeth.

“Yeah, hi op, what the fuck?” They all have a silent conversation for a minute, and I continue, “Anyone want to tell my why the fuck fic-”

“We can tell you what’s going on, but it’s going to sound crazy.” Piper starts.

“After the past five minutes, probably not.” I glance past her shoulder, Leo’s still examining me. I look away, overwhelmed almost immediately. About 30% of my brain is just an endless loop of ‘ohmygodohmygodohmygod he’s real??? Like,,,, r e a l real????? Aj;dlfkajskdla ohmygod he’s looking at me what the fuck richard’, 20% was still trying to calm down from freaking out so much earlier, so I was at about half brain power for the conversation ahead. 

“Okay, wait. Let me get this straight.” they stare at me in silence. We’re standing in the hallway outside the kitchen, and I feel like a complete disaster trying to process what they’re telling me and not look like a total idiot.

“So, Calypso went missing, and Leo got Aphrodite to activate his soulmate link so he can find her and it led you here?” I’m already smiling. There’s no chance, I can’t get my hopes up. 

Piper continues, “Which means it might not be Calypso.”

“Unless you’re wearing a really good disguise or something,” Leo says. I’m pretty sure that’s the first time he’s spoken to me. I let out a breathy laugh and look away from him. If I try to look at him my brain goes haywire. Scenes from stuff I’ve written about him on my tumblr flash in my mind, and it makes me feel like I’m about to explode. 

“Yeah, the reason we know is-”

“The gods are real, monsters are after you, et cetera et cetera. Yeah.” They seem a little surprised that I’m more concerned with the soulmate part than the mythology part, but I’ve been reading these books since middle school. We been knew.

Piper keeps looking between Leo and me with a weird look on her face. God, Piper, don’t get my hopes up. A knowing look passes over her face and she looks around the room again.

“Gods, where did he go…” She gets up and leaves the room. No one says anything. Between right then and when she gets back should have been in a ‘top ten most devastating anime uncomfortable silences’ compilation. She enters again a few seconds later, a tall hot guy behind her. He has red flowers in his hair and isn’t wearing a shirt for some reason. He looks between me and Leo.

“I see… interesting.” he turns to me and says, “Can you tell me anything… personal about him?” My face flushes. I turn to Piper.

“Sorry, but who the fuck?”

“I mean the only noncanon stuff I know is what I came up with for like, writing and stuff but that doesn’t count-” I sputter.

“Eros.” she replies, “My mom sent him along to help find the right person.”

“Normally I’d be able to tell instantly, but my powers don’t seem to work here very well.” his voice is like honey, and it seems like he’s heavily implying something no matter what he says. 

“Yeah, go on hermosa,” Leo says, smirking, “take a whack at it.” His voice sounds so much more… real than I could have imagined. If I could verbally keysmash, I would have then and there. 

“Hmm… why don’t you try anyway. What kind of lover is he?” the room erupts into protests. They don’t want to hear personal stuff about their friend, I don’t want to talk about cripplingly embarrassing smut headcanons in front of the character they’re about, and he probably doesn’t want me taking a wild guess at his bedroom habits. Eros turns to Percy, Annabeth, and Piper.

“You two, out. You, leave but stay close.” They leave the room hastily.

“Since I’m the god of sexual desire, I know what gets people going. I’ll be able to tell if you’re right or not. ” Eros says. I risk a glance at Leo, who I have a feeling has been staring at me a lot. He leans forward, playful intrigue all over him. How is he not dying inside?? 

“Ah ah,” Eros says to Leo, “you too.” Leo obliges, and heads up the stairs.

“H- okay, uh… he acts like a top, but he’s really kind of a bottom,” I choke out, trying to remember details from past posts, and Eros nods in approval, encouraging me to keep going, “he’s really-” my voice falters, and I hide my head in my hands, “he’s really vocal, like really vocal… uh…” 

“Oh yes, I can tell.” Eros says, and I laugh slightly. “What else?” 

“More? God okay… uh… he really likes hickeys, and-” I choke on my words, still unsure of how I got in this situation. 

“He holds hands a lot in… the bedroom? God…” I trail off.

“The next morning, he kind of… he just sort of stares at you while you get dressed and stuff. I don’t know anyone else who does that.”

Eros studies me for a second. My heart is beating so hard. How long does it take to say yes or no? I’m uncomfortably aware of the distracting adrenaline in my arms and chest and head. 

“Interesting,” he says, then stands up and leaves the room.

What the fuck, is he not going to tell me anything?

I’m listening as closely as I can, and I’m pretty sure I hear Eros say five out of five. I got everything right or everything wrong. Nailed it or failed it. 

Piper speeds past me a second later and races up the stairs. After a few seconds she comes back down. She nods toward the staircase.

“You should go talk to him.” a knowing smile is playing at the corner of her mouth, and I can’t stop one from starting on mine. I run up the stairs, and see him, kneeling on my bed, reading what’s on my laptop. 

Oh god, no. 

He stands up. He’s staring at me so intensely, I look away immediately. I start sputtering out a panicked apology and sit down on my bed, moving to shut the lid of my laptop.

“Uh… I just listen to a song or something that makes me think of you,” my voice gets really tiny at that last part, “and stuff starts to pop into my head. I just keep replaying it, and uncovering more details so I can wr- wait,” I start to look up at him, but can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. I stare intensely at the pattern on my quilt instead. “Did you say remember?” He lets out a breathy laugh, and I can hear the smile in his voice. 

“-of course I never thought you were going to read any of that, or…” His hand is on top of mine, my hand and voice freezing at the same time.

“How… did you remember all this?” my fears are being squashed. He doesn’t sound mad, or grossed out, or judgemental. He sounds… impressed.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m only starting to get back bits and pieces, but you remember… everything.” 

“Wait wait…” I mutter, completely dazed, “so it wasn’t… it was all real?” I feel him nodding behind me, and he makes a noise of agreement. 

“It was genius, really… as soon as I felt like I was remembering something, I’d forget it.” His other hand rests on my shoulder, palm flat against my back. “Only you would think to write it like that…” 

“So… it all happened?” I breathe, my face heating up as I think of the titles marked with a little asterisk. 

“Yeah,” I bite my lip, feeling his breath over my skin. It’s quiet for a second. The mattress shifts and I can feel him leaning closer to me, feel the heat coming off his body. His lips are dangerously close to my ear.

“Want something else to write about?”

Oh my fucking god.

I nod before I finish registering what he said. His free hand moves to my cheek, tilting my face towards him, and my skin explodes with sparks where he touches me. 

Our lips brush.

We both freeze.

Flood gates open. Countless vivid images and feelings and scenarios flash across my mind. It was like watching a movie connecting every fic I’ve written. I gasp-laugh a little, and he does the same. It seems like the visions or whatever that he’s seeing are a lot more intense than mine. His eyes flutter open and he looks at me stronger, more intensely, more passionately than he had before. He lets out a soft, breathy laugh, and presses his lips to mine. Everywhere he touches feels carbonated, and I’m trying not to smile too much. I don’t think I’ve ever been more in the moment than right this second. He pulls me closer, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. I didn’t know a kiss could be deeper than it had been a few seconds ago. His mouth moves feverishly against mine. My arms move up on instinct, one hand playing with his hair, the other tracing the collar of his shirt. He shifts his weight, and one hand on my waist, lowers me back onto my bed. His left hand intertwines with my right, and I smile, remembering what I had told Eros earlier. 

“Estrella,” He groans into my mouth, our teeth scraping as we smile in spite of ourselves, and I get the sense the nickname was an ‘as you wish’ type of thing, from the Princess Bride. It feels like he’s saying I love you. My heart speeds up as he nuzzles into my neck, pressing kisses and little bites into my skin. I think about the nickname I always thought would suit him, the one I kept writing down over and over. Now or never.

“Sparky…” I smile, hiding my face in his hair. He freezes for a second, then lets out that breathy laugh again, his face in my neck. His lips graze my collarbone, and he starts to say something, but the door opens suddenly, and we jump apart. It doesn’t help much though, because he’s still hovering over me on all fours and we both look very flushed. And I’m pretty sure the start of a hickey is forming on my neck. 

“Right,” she replies, “we gotta get going, the door is closing soon, so come down stairs as soon as you’re… free.” 

“Sorry!” Annabeth yells, averting her eyes. Leo and I stumble over each other’s flustered responses.

“-looks bad but nothing… happened… we d- we didn’t like, do anything...” I trail off. 

The door closes.

“I’m coming with you guys?” I breathe. He looks over at me, that unflappable sense of playfulness present as ever. 

Leo sits back, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, we should get back soon. Everyone else will be worried once they remember.” My heart plummets. I didn’t know you could go from feeling so incredibly euphoric to beyond miserable in about five seconds. I open my mouth to choke out a response, but before I can, he stands up and stretches a little.

“Do you wanna change before we go?” The question has such a normal tone to it, it’s a little bizarre after all the unusual things that have happened today. The bad feeling and tears at the corners of my eyes start to recede. 

“Of course you are. If you think I’m losing you again this soon you’re crazier than I am.” I let out a relieved laugh, and stand up. I look down at my monster foot slippers and sweatpants. 

“You know where to find me,” he winks before closing the door on his way out.

“Yeah, I should probably change.” He pulls me close to him, one hand comes up to the back of my neck, the other on my hip. He starts swaying us back and forth, dancing around my room.

“Well, if you need any help…” I laugh, and shove him away playfully.

I take a second to catch my breath. Oh my god. Thoughts are still racing in the back of my mind, but I don’t pay attention. I don’t have time to worry about what’s real and what’s not, I need to find the perfect demigod adventure outfit. I throw open my closet, start shuffling through dresser drawers, digging through my shoes. I don’t remember having one or two of the pieces, but after a minute, I find exactly what I’m looking for. It’s the exact outfit I’d always imagined myself in if I ever went to camp half blood. I search through my accessories, grab a bag, and hastily fill it with anything I think I’ll probably need. I turn back to my laptop, and change my blog description to on hiatus. I check my hair, flattening out the back from before, and determine I’m ready to go. 

I walk down the stairs, and everyone’s watching me. I feel like it’s prom or something, which sounds silly since I’ve got on ripped jeans and a backpack instead of a dress and clutch. Leo’s watching me with that look, the one that makes his eyes all sparkly, and he meets me at the bottom of the stairs. He puts his arm around my shoulder.

“Ready to go home, Estrella?”

I have never been more ready for anything.

#Leo Valdez #leo x reader #leo valdez x reader #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #leo valdez imagine #heroes of olympus imagine

[tomcriuse]

Idk if you read fanfic but I'm in desperate need of some Diego luna/charcters he has played fanfic. Like it's a drought

cant believe ur making me out myself for reading so much fic emily do NOT even READ this post dont say SHIT alright just DONT

ok ngl i think cassian andor is the only character of his that has like substantial fic (or at least that ive seen) 

*** is....u know........

***the sun on both sides by @no-droids is literally the first one that came to mind it literally haunts my every waking moment im just. constantly thinking abt it bruh like before i wasnt too into star wars but then i read this and realized i was a fool yeah so anyways all this to say that im in love w no-droids

***between everything and nothing by @jangofctts is also. incredible i just like dont know what more 2 say

***you are the reason by @poeticandors is iconic incredible showstopping lovely superb terrific gorgeous fantastic

yours by @my-imagines-moonlight53 bruh this one is just. sweet....like i had to lock my phone to compose myself

anon asked: imagine you and cassian’s child.... by poe-andor-blog its sad tho beware

anon asked: if you ever generate cassian content i will implode by @whirlybirbs ngl there was like a month where all i did was read their rdr2 fic so...yeah anyways i love them and their writing

dissimulato by @hansoulo bruh like i dont even know what to say here......like rogue one but also dirty dancing havana nights NEED i say more

stories and sunsets by @dindjarindiaries yeah this was so cute LMFAO i...yeah so im switching my major to pre-med

don’t leave by @certifiedskywalker bruh i. want a boyfriend so bad no one talk to me about this

nonsense by @rise-my-angel its a SOULMATE au are you KIDDING ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i thought i lost you by @poeticandors wait ngl maybe they are the king of cassian fic........hmmm much 2 think about

i need to be there with you ALSO by @poeticandors yeah true op great point

hurt by @poeticandors ok no one say anything abt this ok

#anon #answered

[iamnightduchess]

Dangerous Woman (R18+)

Rating: Mature (AO3)

Pairing: Reiner x Mikasa (ReiKasa) ft. tiny Armin x Annie (AruAni).

AU: Love Like This

Trope: One-night stand (?)

Summary: Something about him makes her feel like a dangerous woman. Making her do things she won’t normally do.

She’s a married woman and she sure as hell shouldn’t be out here at a bar, planning to wine and dance the night away all by herself. She isn’t supposed to be flirting with a random stranger whose name she’d never bothered to ask. She’s most absolutely not supposed to be grinding bodies with this handsome enigma and allowing him to take her dancing all the way back to his hotel room. ReinerxMikasa ft. ArminxAnnie. Modern AU.

A/N: Inspired by this post & this post.

Rhythmic Muse: Dangerous Woman (Cover) by Travis Garland.

Content Warning: Adult undertones. Dubcon (somewhat). Rough, unprotected sex. (I do not condone this. Please practice safe intercourse in real life, everyone and only with people you trust, please!). Expect some OOC-ness because this is a self-indulging Modern AU fic. Happy reading!

----

The smooth tunes of the Spanish guitar blasting from the seaside cafe’s stereo speakers and the sounds from the crushing waves of the ocean serenaded her weary senses, soothing her jaded body after a long day at work. She’s been busting her ass more than usual, covering more graveyard shifts than she could humanly manage in her years of field experience.  The salty seaside breeze wafted through her senses, mixed with the smell of grilled seafood and freshly-made martinis from the nearby bar, reminding her that her work vacation had been long overdue.

God, that trip to the Mediterraneans sounded much more tempting than before. Just lazing at the beach, soaking up the sun, reading a book or two and maybe toss in some kinky actions with a hot hunk somewhere along the way. But alas, they only managed to get away to a seaside resort just slightly out of town for the weekend.

A low, murmured whisper coming from her opposite direction turned into an uncontrollable cackle and she leered at her flaxen-haired companion, who’s now already tongue-deep inside her date’s mouth.

“Gross.” The raven-haired woman rolled her eyes, yet not without a small smile on her face.

“Don’t be jealous, Mikasa,” chided Annie as she broke her kiss with Armin, causing the latter to blush and stared back at his childhood friend sheepishly. “Just because your husband’s not here, doesn’t mean I can’t make out with mine.”

Armin sent a cautionary look at his wife and sighed. “Annie, we’re not supposed to remind her of him tonight. Sorry, Mikasa.”

The small smile turned into a tight frown as she continued to nurse the drink in her hand. She rolled mindlessly at the double olives on that tiny skewer inside her glass. “It’s fine, Armin. Annie’s right, you two are supposed to have fun. Don’t let me hold you both back. It’s your first night away from the girls after half a year, right? Go wild. But, not too wild ok?” She signaled to the other woman’s slightly protruding belly.

The upcoming fourth addition to the five member brood of the Arlert family.

Armin sent her a concerned look. He didn’t miss the way Mikasa had been restlessly fiddling with the wedding ring on her finger ever since she reached their planned venue of the evening from work. He and Mikasa have always been tighter than two halves of a whole since they were both in grade school. 

He’d know when she’s in distress. That doesn't require his professional skills in psychology to read the other woman's body language and facial expression.

“Did he wish you an anniversary greeting this morning?,” asked the blonde-haired academician.

She shook her head, her glazed eyes cast downwards as she took a sip from her dry martini. “Not yet, at least. I did slip something into his luggage before his flight out last week. Maybe he’s just busy.”

Annie slammed her own glass of fruit juice on the lounge table and declared out loud, “I’ll kick his ass for you tomorrow. If he ever gets here.”

“Thank you for the offer, Annie but I still got this under control and please don’t. You’re pregnant.”

Annie scoffed in return, expressing her distaste at said man’s nonchalant attitude. “Well, at the very least he should have given you a hall pass if he’s going to be ditching you here on your own. Give you the freedom to make up for his shortcomings. It’s your anniversary for crying out loud,” remarked the expecting mother before continuing to offer her unwarranted opinions. “I don’t know how you could go through all this for more than ten years? Sure, Armin and I have been married for fourteen years, together for sixteen and I can’t ever imagine being away from him for too long.”

Armin’s gaze hardened, he looked back at his wife’s rather harsh words in concealed disagreement, but he also knew that his long-time friend's married life was also none of their business. “I’m very sure he has a very good reason. Which has something to do with his work.”

Annie let out a long drawl of sigh. “Still doesn’t give him a reason to be a dick to her.”

Armin’s jaw dropped down in disbelief. “Annie!”

Mikasa waved away Armin’s chastising of his own wife. “It’s the hormones. This is not your first rodeo, Armin.”

He shrugged, “But this time, she’s much more brutal than usual, Mika.”

“After three girls, maybe this is finally a boy. Who knows?”

Armin beamed at the possibility, catching his wife’s eyes in a soft, appreciating gaze. “That would be nice, but even if this one’s another girl, it’s still not an issue to me. I love all my girls regardless.” Annie snuck a quick peck on the tip of her husband’s adorable button nose and nuzzled against his cheek softly, whispering, “I love you.”

Mikasa held the other couple in an admiring gaze. They are rock solid, there’s no doubt there. Also, by the way Annie’s hands had been slinking into the folds of the younger man’s casual dress shirt, rubbing slowly against her husband’s skin, Mikasa knew that Annie’s hormonal condition also came with other perks, which Armin clearly appreciates very, very much.

She shook her head and chided the pair teasingly, “Just head on back to your room, guys. Don’t remind me what I’m missing.”

Armin turned his head back at her, reluctance persisted against his own conscience. “We’re not going to leave you here on your own.”

“I’ll be fine. I just want to get another drink then I’ll be calling it a night.” She lifted the triangle-shaped glass in her hands and gestured for the couple to make their way back first.

It was Annie yet again, who made her concerns very vocal for the umpteenth time. “You know, if you’re gonna be dicking with one of these attractive men available around here tonight, we’re not gonna tell him. Scout’s honor.” She just had to end her sentence with a sly wink and a two finger salute.

Yep, someone’s super horny right now.

She raised an eyebrow with a mock disappointment on her face. “Just get the hell out of here. Armin, fill her mouth good.”

“Mikasa…” Armin shook his head in embarrassment at the crudeness of her sentence. He could still never get used to the savage side of his best friend, who’s more of a sister to him than anything else in this world. “Stay safe and just call me if you need anything at all.”

“Thanks. Now go on.” God bless Armin’s kind soul but it was bold of him to think that she’d be calling him when he’s already in way too deep inside his wife. Even IF she’d really ever needed someone’s assistance. Regardless, she waited patiently until the silhouette of the pair disappeared beyond the canopy walk heading towards the guest rooms’ direction. Only then she lifted herself off the lounge seat, clutch in one hand and fixed the hem of her skirt and her hair, already messed up from the strong breeze in the other. Eventually making her way towards the bar. With the manner she strode across the dining area, her heels clattered against the wooden floor, she willfully disregarded all the stares thrown her way - appreciating or lewd - from quite a number of the male patrons of the establishment. Deliberately, she dabbled lightly at the thin gold chain around her neck. Putting her wedding band on obvious display and on purpose.

Mikasa sighed in relief, silently to herself the moment the message was duly received by the interested parties. The last thing she needed was to be in a complicated entanglement. She continued walking towards the bar, nodding at the chirpy bartender who bid her good evening and asked for her latest choice of poison for the night. She took her seat on the high bar stool, crossing her long legs comfortably and decided on another appletini. While waiting for her drink, she rested her face on her hand and tapped her fingers lightly against her cheek to the smooth R&B rhythm, staring fondly at the sight of a beautiful young couple slow-dancing not too far from the live DJ booth.

The moment a nostalgic tune she had once heard from an amazing night in Hizuru’s Havana Club years ago began to play - the intro to the Spanish dancehall genre blasted through the speakers - her body couldn’t help but move slightly to the sleek music.

This was their song. It was playing on one of the first few dates they had with each other. She’s even wearing the same red dress that she wore on that date eons ago. Back when they were younger. Back when promises were made to never be apart even for a day.

After eleven years of being married together….well, who’s counting anyway?

Unbeknownst to her, a set of dark amber eyes had been lingering appreciatively at the way she tapped her heels and the manner which her body grooved slightly to the playing tune.

----

The moment she’d walked across the distance between the patio lounge and the bar, she’d caught his attention from the get go.

Everything about this woman reminded him of Edwyn Collins’s crooning of his timeless serenade, A Girl Like You. She’s absolutely making him acknowledge the devil in him without an ounce of doubt.

His eyes glazed at the way her short dark tresses wavered in the evening draft and the way her off-shoulder red dress hugged her body tightly. The sheer fabric outlined the lithe curves of her waist, its edges danced around the long legs that seemed to be endless with every motion, beckoning his admiring gaze even further. She took her seat on the high bar stool, legs crossed and the edges of the dress hitched upwards, exposing the sight of her smooth thighs. Porcelain. Perfection.

It seems that he’s not the only person sending interested looks her way as he spotted several other men staring in awe at this breathtaking lady in red, without so much as a blink.

He exhaled a breath, much deeper than before.

He eyed the dark gold pumps on her feet that matched the delicate gold chain on her slender neck and the gold wedding ring on her finger. It also didn’t escape his observation on the beginnings of a rather intricate ink, emerging from the lace fringe on the back of her silky dress.

He wants to study the story behind it from the top down to where it might end if she’d be keen to share it.

He’s itching to know how much skin the ink covers.

He took in another long, deep breath, fixing the crisp collar of his suit. A hand smoothed his hair back in one fluid motion and finally, made his move towards the bar.

He’s going in for the kill. A wedding band had never stopped him before.

Several steps away from the bar and he’d already caught the fragrant scent of something succulent and delicious in the air coming from her direction.

Her perfume. 

Juicy. He found himself licking his dry lips in response towards the prospect of savoring the taste of figurative sweet cherries on luscious porcelain skin.

As it were, she could feel the prickle of piercing eyes on her back. She then turned her head around and their eyes met from across this crowded space.

Her eyes, a curious granite hue, reflected a hunger that has not been fulfilled for quite some time.

It’s a rather perfect coincidence that he’d been ravenous for the similar thing as well.

He wandered over to the empty seat next to her. “Good evening. Can I buy another drink for you?”

She pretended that she didn’t hear him at first, yet began to cave in after realizing that she was just too polite to turn down a stranger’s offer. “Thank you but I can buy my own.”

A knowing grin graced his lips. He knows an elegant woman with a refined taste when he sees one. “I can see that you’re waiting for someone. Can I, at least, keep you company for the time being?”

She gestured to the vacant bar stool next to hers with a short tilt of her head. “Help yourself.”

He asked for a serving of whiskey on the rocks from the gentleman on the other side of the tropical themed bar. Certainly didn’t miss the way her chest hiked the moment she took in the smell of his cologne and he also didn’t miss the way she ran a thumb against the small jewelry on her finger at the same time she took a sip of her martini. Like she was reminding herself of a line she’s not supposed to step over.

Instead of taking over the offered seat, however, he turned his body around and reclined against the side of the wooden bar’s curved edges. He’d caught her staring at the outline of his pecs between the already undone buttons of his shirt. “Can I take a guess?”, he eased his way into another opening for small talk, “A husband who’s running late or almost letting you know that he’s not going to make it?”

Bullseye. He could feel her glaring at him from the corners of her eyes. “Aren’t you the expert on lonely women?”

A deep chuckle escaped his lips shamelessly. “Well, if you were my wife, you’d never find yourself waiting all on your own or getting stood up for that matter.”

The large hoop earrings dangled against the side of her neck when she turned her head sharply towards the devilishly handsome but certainly up-to-no-good face. “Does that line work with all the married women you’re trying to seduce?”

His sturdy, well-trained shoulders shrugged incredulously. “Only those that match the very specific types: cold, mysterious, killer legs and silent ones that are forbidden to touch.”

“Hmmm….” She shook her head at his rather brave yet stupid audacity of assuming she’s just like the other women he had successfully added to the notch under his belt. She’d wished he’d just take a hike and let her finish her drink alone.

“How about this, one dance and I’ll leave you to your lonesome for the rest of the night?”

One dance. It wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it?

She should’ve said no. But she didn’t.

The second he pressed her snug against his own well-honed body on the dancefloor, she could feel her own conscience gradually diminishing through every grip of this man's fingers against her waist. His muscular arms ensnared her in a vice hold before he turned her around again and again to the fast tempo of the music. Their touch electric, their bodies coordinated flawlessly to the sensual rhythm and lips almost brushing dangerously against each other.

He twirled her around and let her back rest against his chest. His voice was a low, deep growl - reminiscent of a sly devil, whispering nefarious sins into her ear. "You are a very interesting woman.

"I know what you're trying to do."

"Let's not beat around the bush then."

She shook her head incredulously, lifting the hand with her wedding band right in this stranger's face. "I'm still married."

A dark chuckle escaped his lips,  the thrumming of his chest reverberated against her bare back. "I'm still interested."

She pushed herself forward ahead of him. "I need to go." Only to have her hand ensnared in his again.

The blonde enigmatic stranger lowered his head, his warm breath mixed with his sharp clean scent assaulted her senses. A contradiction to the sudden shift in his voice to a firm, authoritative tone instead. "Your husband is holding extremely confidential information that could jeopardize national security. I'd strongly suggest that you remain compliant until we can get to a more secure and private place to talk."

"You can't force me to go anywhere with you. I don't even know you!"

"I can assure you, making a scene is only going to make things more complicated, Ms. Ackerman."

Her eyes widened in shock. "How did you know my name?"

"You're a person of interest. I have all the intel on you." His dark, cryptic eyes held her gaze in a subtle warning. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"Fine."

----

As soon as he closed the door to his room, the stranger pressed her body hard against the wooden surface, wasting no time in taking over her body’s will through the pull of his hands. He began to pat her body down with a force so strong she could feel the pervasive grip of his muscle against her skin.

She tried to push his hands away, almost gasping in shock upon his sudden action. "What are you doing?!"

He lifted a finger against his lips, demanding her absolute silence. "Searching for any hazardous items you might be hiding underneath your dress."

She scoffed. "As if."

An arm held her shoulder down while his other hand pressed at the curve of her hips, pushing her ass hard against the door of his room. He lifted one of her long legs and let it wrap around the side of his broad torso.

He palmed the lower front of her dress, caressing the shape of her hidden mound and his lips curved upwards in a wicked grin. "Found it." The same hand hitched her dress upwards and slipped through the layers of fabric until it reached its intended destination. "This, I believe requires a more thorough search."

He dropped down to the floor yet not without holding her leg in place so it now rested firmly on his toned shoulder.

The pointy end of her heels grated tantalizingly against his back as he marveled at the leverage he had taken from her, along with her resistance. Mikasa looked down in horror as the top of his blonde head disappeared underneath the wavy ends of her crimson dress, a gust of warm breath against her barely-covered mound. The only thing that she could register on her brain next was something wet and boiling hot brushing against the flimsy fabric of her lacy thong, just before the muscle of his tongue slid across her cunt in one long, torturous lick.

She could only moan involuntarily, her breath coming out in pants with every daring lick of this mysterious man's tongue against her already dripping core. Oh God, it’s been too long. “More….” She whimpered softly, yet her voice though, was a contradicting guttural sound, even foreign to her own self as she urged him to pay more attention to that little bundle of nerves hidden somewhere in between her folds. But that asshole wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. 

His powerful hands gripped her waist in an unyielding hold, pulling her with him before pushing her body back on all fours onto the springy mattress. She bit her lower lips in anticipation, her watchful gaze lingered on the way the stranger's lips savored the taste of her with his tongue.

He pulled on the edges of her dress downwards, leaving her in only her brassiere, her thong and her pumps. A tiny shiver tingled across her spine as the cold air from the air conditioned room hit her bare skin. He grabbed hard at the firm shape of her ass, only covered by a measly thin string and eventually tore the flimsy underwear away.

"Beautiful." His tone appreciative, followed by a low growl. "So much more beautiful in person. Your husband is a very lucky man indeed, Ms. Ackerman. Or should I call you Mrs. Braun instead?"

Her breath labored heavily in her arousal, induced by this man's words. "No-- we can't--" Her body heaved as she felt this man's long digits prodding through her drenched slit without warning. Her traitorous lips let out a slow whimper, grunting in regret at her own body's betrayal.

It wasn't supposed to enjoy another man's intrusive touch. But it's too late. The intense animal magnetism of this man was just too much for her body to resist. Certainly not when its needs haven't been satiated for quite some time now.

She heard the rustling of coat and dress shirt, followed by the unmistakable sound of a zipper coming undone from behind. "Wait--we can't--"

"You're my captive for tonight, Mrs. Braun. You won't be getting any rest until my questions have been answered and our bodies have been mutually satisfied."

She felt his hand undoing the clasp of her brassiere and she watched helplessly as the undergarment was ripped apart, landing against the carpeted floor of the luxury hotel room. "What answers?"

"For starters, tell me how hard do you like to be fucked?"

Her head turned sharply, her body struggling to wrestle control against the iron grip on her nape and her waist. "HOW ABOUT NO?"

"Are you sure?" She could feel his fingers toying with the sacred bundle of nerves within her folds and the blazing hot tip of his manhood already teasing at her slick entrance.

"God…." She moaned in agony. The sloshing sounds made by her own treacherous body couldn't make her sinful desires even more obvious than it already was. "Wait--we can't--" Don't do it, Mikasa. "Please…" Oh, heavens... Her voice cracked, her words turned into a series of low, incoherent grunts and mewls.

She muttered another low whimper, cursing when she felt the unwarranted sting on her skin following the sound of a loud smack from this smug asshole's palm hitting her ass.

Without yet another warning, the piercing tip of his member penetrated through her slit as he rammed into her viciously; she could truly taste him pervading her walls, its head hitting her crux with a painful yet thrilling contact. Her shock manifested in the way her lips trembled and her knees buckled against the soft egyptian cotton sheets. A long drawl of whimper escaped her scarlet sunrise-painted lips when he filled her so deliciously.

“Can your husband make you scream like I do?” He whispered those vile words into her ear when their hips pounded against each other once more upon impact. This sinful stranger imposed on her a choice she’d never make as a decent woman, wife and mother. The second he thrusted his whole length and girth raw into the tight passage deep inside her with no abandonment, she’d eventually admitted that her conscience had been long gone the moment they first laid their eyes on the other in the crowded bar.

She felt a hand seizing her chin from behind, tilting upwards and forcing her long neck to stretch further than she usually could. Their bodies fusing, this man rested his whole weight on her, pressing her flat against the mattress. It sprung from their combined weight. This man's mystifying gaze punctured through her conflicted soul - he was a metaphorical devil. Claiming not only her unjust body, but also her reluctant soul. Even more so when he brushed his thin full lips against her trembling ones. Their teeths chattered, their tongues wrestled for dominion of the other's will.

He snickered through the kiss, his chest vibrated against her back. She could even feel his member vibrating deep within her wet, hot canals. "What would Mr. Braun say if he sees you this way, hmm?"

Fucker. He stretched her thin and she cursed herself -- her body kept pulling him in. This man commandeered full authority over her body through every twist of his hips and every angle of his thrusting. Harder and faster. Faster and harder. Yet her mouth kept screaming a feigned resistance. As if the pure, innocent part of her was justifying the pleasure she was receiving along with her impending, forced shame.

Something about his recklessness and guts made the wicked person inside her want to break free. She was a good wife but this man is pushing her to the edge, tipping her scale from good to super bad really quickly. If these walls had eyes, they would patronize her for being so unabashedly wanton with another man’s dick deep inside her, filling her up, stretching herself tight using his substantial size with every thrust, wet glides and titillating tractions.

This man kept on thrusting mercilessly, his hips pounded hard against her ass again and again from behind until their inevitable gratification of merciful release, eventually setting her free.

He growled loudly for one last time when he unloaded his release deep inside her tight passage. Almost frozen, barely able to move as their bodies crashed flat against the springy bed, stacked on top of the other. 

"Break." She mumbled against the sheet, still gasping - almost choking- for the air that she had lost.

"Agreed." He nuzzled against the back of her nape, inhaling in her sweet fragrance and the unavoidable scent of their aftermath. "Fuck, I miss you so much, baby." He snuck a kiss on her cheek as he pulled himself out of her, staring at his already flaccid member, secretly commending it for an exceptional performance even when he's almost approaching the big 4 Oh.

Mikasa turned herself slightly and rested her hand against the sinewy hardness of his thigh, showering it with gentle and loving caress. "Welcome home." God, he still amazes her even after twelve years together.

"Come here." He pulled her body closer to his so they both rested against the headboard of the bed, with his arms around her. "I've never stopped thinking about you when I was away."

"I wasn't doing any better." She cupped his jaw, smiling at the thick growing beard she found there. "You haven't been shaving."

He wiggled his eyebrows cunningly. "I think it adds more character don't you think?"

A sudden realization caused her body to spring up and asked, "What time is it?"

He leered at the watch on his wrist. "Eleven. Why?"

"I was supposed to take the pill two hours ago, Reiner."

"It's fine. I forgot to pack a box too. Miraé found the one at home and she thought it was a really special balloon we've been hiding. Thanks to her, I think the one we have might have expired anyway."

A grin formed on her lips. "That girl. I told her so many times not to snoop around our dressing table." She looked back at him hesitantly before confiding, “Reiner, I’ve actually been forgetting to take the pill for a week now. What if we--”

“Then it’ll be a nice surprise don’t you think? I kind of missed seeing you pregnant again.” His large hand rested on the curves of her sculpted abdomen. He remembered very vividly how breathtaking she had been, even more beautiful when her body was swelling with not one but two babies from nine years ago. The pregnancy had been harder for him due to his Couvade Syndrome for two full trimesters but he’d do it all over again.

She traced the inks on the left side of her husband’s torso : the kanji of their twin’s names - Masaru and Miraé.  “I thought we’re done having babies?”

“I’ve held our home front with the double trouble and I love every single second of it. Another baby’s not gonna be a new challenge but it’s really up to you, dearheart. You know I’d carry the baby if I could.” He rested his palm over the hand on his torso. “Another ink would be nice. Or two? Rémy's been asking if he can have his own baby brother, I quote, and or sister since Armin and Annie's having another new cousin for them.”

Mikasa swallowed slowly, envisioning another pair of twins inside the house. Her eyes lit up at the potential new adventures or misdemeanours in tow - either way you can't have one without the other. "I think it would be really amazing. I couldn't do it without you."

"And I couldn't do it without you."

He ensnared her lips in another appreciative kiss.

“Happy Anniversary, Mrs. Braun. Thank you for an amazing eleven years of married life together.” He fumbled around his wrist for the luxury watch, engraved with their names and the most important date of his life: the day he made her his wife. “Thank you for the gift. I love it very much. And, here's mine for you.” He retrieved a custom-made dark blue box wrapped with a matching dark purple ribbon from the side table.

Her eyes widened as she saw the box and recognized the label. Only from the finest custom jeweller in South Marley. "Oh…."

"I know you don't wear jewellery because it's hazardous when you're performing surgeries but I really want you to have something more practical but still reminds you of me every second."

Great minds think alike it seems as he too had gotten her a custom fitness watch made from palladium only available in Marley. "I love it. Thank you so much, Reiner." She wasted no time in placing his gift around her wrist, absolutely revelling in its perfect weight and its snug fit. Just like every part of him to hers.

"Look, we match." He grinned as he moved their wrists closer.

"Always."

They basked in their blissful aftermath before their lips found each other again.

“If you were my wife?", she laughed at the callback of their earlier rendezvous at the seaside bar. “Your roleplaying skills have gone rusty, Vice Commander Braun”

“Well, my dear Dr. Ackerman-Braun, it only means we need to do this more often. Hey, maybe next time we can do the hot teacher, bad student routine?”

“We’ve done that 2 years ago.”

“This time I’ll be the hot teacher.”

“Hah…depends though, will you wear your reading glasses?”

He wiggled his eyebrows hilariously. "How thick do you want it to be?"

"Oh god."

He pecked at the juncture of her neck. "Hey, do you think I can borrow one of Armin's work shirt vests?"

"Please stop." She was already laughing hard at the horrendous mental image yet didn't stop his fondling hands or the tiny bites of his teeth against her skin.

They were about to dive deep into another round of lovemaking when the room's phone rang, completely shattering the private haven they have built between the sea of sheets.

"Baby, leave it." Reiner growled into her ear, his hand pulling on her own that's already pressing at the device's speaker button.

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY YOU SICK FREAKS!" A loud voice could be heard from the other end.

"Shut up, Annie." Reiner barked at the phone, but his tone was betrayed by the amused smirk on his face.

Mikasa shook her head at her husband. "Thanks, Annie. Armin too if he's still awake."

"Hey… welcome back, Reiner." Armin's voice could be heard coming from the background of the other couple's room.

"Thanks, bro. Sure good to be back."

"You know Reiner," quipped Annie. "If you really stood her up, I'll be the one who personally hooks Mikasa up with one of those handsome rando strangers we saw at the bar."

"Not today, Satan. I meant, sis."

"Asshole."

The two couples broke into a mutual amused laughter.

"Now, Annie, can you please piss off so I can get back to banging my sexy missus?"

Their respective spouses' hollering their names echoed behind their backs before the call ended with a quick 'Make a baby!' phrase from his stepsister.

"Now, where were we, Mrs. Braun?"

The ends of her painted lips curved upwards and her lightly painted nails were already trailing down her husband's impressive body. She leered sensuously when she climbed on top of her husband's broad frame. "Making a baby."

----

A/N: This is inspired by my upcoming Love Like This AU, where Reiner’s stepsister, Annie is married to Armin, who’s also his wife’s childhood friend. Mikasa and Annie are competitive in-laws and the dysfunctional Braun-Leonhardt family are chaotic, eccentric and loving as they come. No children were harmed in the making of this fic. As a matter of fact, on that night, a child has been conceived haha Thank you for your reading! xoxo

#ReiKasa #reiner x mikasa #reiner braun #mikasa ackerman #ReiKasa fic #ReiKasa smut #snk fic #snk smut #aot fic #aot smut #dangerous woman #by NightDuchess #love like this au #ReiKasaverse #ReiKasa modern au #ReiKasa modernverse au #snk modern au #armin x annie #aruani #ReiKasa reimagines #AA and RK forever

[aftgficrec]

Any pirate aus?? Or band aus?? Thank you guys for all that you do!💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛🧡💛

Hello! I’ve got some pirate and band AUs that are new to our blog and some previous recs (including space pirates, because why not?) for swashbuckling adventure and song. You may also enjoy the fics in our mermaids tag. - A

More Pirate AUs - fantasy

‘The Gracekeepers’ (now complete) here

‘Between the Sinner and the Sea’ here

‘Fear No Fall’ series here 

‘perhaps we’re just humans’ here

‘breathe air into my lungs (a chinese whisper fic)’ here

More Pirate AUs - sci fi (space)

‘Above the Clouds’ here

‘The Real Folk Blues’ (bounty hunters) here

‘Out in the Black’ here

More Band AUs

band aus here

band aus for a fandom novice here

instrument/music band here

Neil’s the singer in a band here

‘You like me (obviously)’ here

‘no other name (falling off my lips)’ and ‘Can I?’ here

‘youngblood’ here

‘Oh, Catastrophe’ here

‘Andreil Smut Anthology’ ch 1 here, ch 3 here

‘and you're shining like the brightest stars (like a transmission on the midnight radio)’ here

Pirates AUs

Disinclined to Acquiesce by redskiesandsailboats [Rated G, 22111 Words, Complete, 2021]

“What can I give you that will make you help me find Neil?”

Kevin frowns, stands up. “You know he’s on the Black Pearl, right?”

Andrew did not know that. “I don’t care,” he says.

“You know,” Kevin says at Nicky’s questioning noise. “The Black Pearl. Black sails, appears only at night. Haunted and crewed by the damned.”

Andrew tries to convey exactly how many shits he gives about the bedtime stories of the Black Pearl through the look he gives Kevin: exactly zero.

(Or, the Pirates of the Caribbean AU that absolutely no one asked for, in which Kevin is morally grey but terribly colorful in every other aspect, Neil gets kidnapped far too many times, and Andrew just wants to live out his life in peace, making swords and kissing Neil.)

tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: gun violence

Let this be a lesson to all of us by talk_less_smilemore [Not Rated (we say T), 13439 Words, Complete, Aftg Big Bang 2020]

"If you cross me," Andrew warns, "If you destroy my city or give my Den up to the Butcher, if you even think ab—"

"You'll kill me, I know." Neil rolls his eyes. "I've heard that one before."

A pirate/assassin AU set in Havana, circa 1700s. Andrew just wants to do his job. Neil won't stop getting in the way. He's hiding more than it originally appears.

tw: gun violence, tw: murder, tw: blood, tw: child trafficking

NB: Art embedded in the fic by @fornavn

Parallel by BelaBellissima [Rated T, Collection, Complete, 2018]

Chapter 6: Pirate - Andreil [2103 Words]

loosely based off of Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides bc I love Phillip and Syrena

tw: violence, tw: fire, tw: blood

Zen's Tumblr Prompts by zen_fox [Rated G/T/E, Collection, Updated 2018]

Chapter 6: KANDREW — pirate au [M, 539 Words]

The Foxhole is ship of a different class to the sleek Evermore: smaller, older, and patched up places Kevin didn't know could be patched before he ended up part of her crew. He can no longer remember his life on land, but even the sea sounds different here— closer, somehow, and wilder.

Band AUs

The Musical Stylings of Neil Josten by infernalstars [Rated G (we say T), 9375 Words, Complete, 2020]

Neil Josten is a singing prodigy.

Until his mother dragged him away from that life and his father‘s criminal behavior. When his mother died, he narrowly escaped his father's clutches.

In turn, he winds up at a high school in South Carolina for his senior year and manages to get detention on the first day. It’s here he meets the Monsters looking for a lead singer.

This is his chance to be real. And to be free.

tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: homophobia, tw: violence, tw: vomit, tw: nightmares

Risk It All by ChloeGreen1998 [Not Rated (we say T), 2998 Words, Complete, 2019]

Band AU where after college, Aaron joins a band and is also dating Kevin Day, who yes, you bet carried on with Exy….Basically, this is the proposal band AU nobody asked for but my brain won't shut up about it xo

i hate u (i love u) by insomniass (Not Rated (we say T), 2531 Words, Incomplete, Updated Oct 2019]

Nathaniel is an up and coming artist in the industry trying to find ways to escape from his mother's harmful tendencies. Andrew is trying to find his way after breaking off from his old band and estranging himself from his only family. They don't end up finding what they're looking for, but they do find each other, so maybe that's the same thing.

tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Pirate Art and Humour

merman neil and pirate andrew art by @reinventlinda

andreil from ‘Fear No Fall’ art by @still-waiting-for-godot

‘but you have heard of us’ fandom fun post by @palmettios

‘you actually were telling the truth’ fandom fun post by @palmettios

‘I love those moments’ fandom fun post by @thepalmettofoxes

#fic #neil josten/andrew minyard #kevin day & neil josten & andrew minyard #kevin day/andrew minyard #kevin day/aaron minyard #mary hatford & neil josten #au: pirates #au: pirates of the caribbean #au: assassins #au: mermaids #au: music #au: lemonade mouth #theme: fluff & angst #theme: angst with a happy ending #theme: fluff #theme: first kiss #theme: pda #theme: hurt/comfort #theme: proposals #aftg big bang #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: gun violence #tw: murder #tw: child trafficking #tw: implied/referenced self harm #tw: implied/referenced abuse #tw: homophobia #tw: vomit #tw: nightmares

[field-s-of-flowers]

Havana, chapter 7

Midnight was so different in Atlanta. Clearer, somehow, and brighter than the city lights Hélène was so used to. She vaguely recalled why: a phenomenon known as light pollution, in which a street lamp or a lit apartment window could upstage the stars. It was pretty fascinating, really. Out of sight, they were, and so out of mind.

That had to be a metaphor for something, right? There were people who thought of themselves as stars. Her brother, for one. Anatole could go on and on for hours to Hélène about whatever new thing he last discovered. Sometimes, it could even be kind of beautiful. But there’s only one poet in any family. And stars didn’t apply to Hélène, anyway. They hadn’t for a while.

So why did it feel like the stars were watching her tonight?

“Are you going to bed anytime soon?”

Two weeks had passed since Hélène arrived. Right from the moment she stepped off the ferry, she’d felt a sense of different-ness. A sense of being at home, not at all what she’d had with Pierre. Comfortable, like she didn’t need to constantly put on a show for Natasha or Sonya or Marya.

Oh, Marya.

“Sit with me,” Hélène murmured in way of an answer. “Just for a little while.”

Marya cocked her head, but sat down all the same.

“It’s funny,” she said. “Before I met you, I had a picture in my mind of how you looked. Pierre talked about you so much back at home that I felt like I knew you already.”

“What was it?”

“Mm?”

“What did I look like?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You were older, I think, than you are. And you were always wearing black.”

Marya laughed. “That is funny. I always pictured you in white.”

Oh, that laugh. It was rare, and never failed to make Hélène blush. A small glimmer decorated ice-blue eyes, and a small dimple grew on her cheek. One more new thing I’m learning about you.

“White,” she repeated, “just like the moon right now.”

The moon was a crescent tonight, surrounded by glittering stars and inky clouds. When the moon waned, as Hélène heard once, the stars always looked just a little brighter, a little starker against the sky. The metaphor wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

#Soph’s fics #havana au fic #havana au #great comet #great comet fic #great comet fanfiction #great comet fanfic #natasha pierre and the great comet of 1812 #Great comet Havana au #Havana au fanfic #Havana au fanfiction #Maryalene #Marlene #maryalene Havana au #Marlene Havana au #Marlene fic #Maryalene fic #Maryalene fanfic #Maryalene fanfiction #Marlene fanfic #Marlene fanfiction #helene bezukhova #helene kuragina #marya d #marya dmitryevna akhrosimova #sorry this took so long lol. #Only 3 chapters left!

[raplinesmoon]

Burn After Reading Teaser - KSJ x F!Reader (Drabble Series)

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Female Reader

Genres: sfw (for now), action, heavy angst, exes-to-lovers, spy!AU

Themes/warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, mentions of past relationship, mentions of blood and violence, tense situations, will be updated as story moves along

Word count: 1.5k for chapter one (Teaser is 273 words)

Summary: The agency made the biggest mistake they ever could by trusting Kim Seokjin one more time. You weren’t going to do the same. 

Release Date: TBD

A/N: Hi, I decided to start writing another AU (still would not call myself a writer), and I am more than excited to take a deep dive into this couple’s angsty story. I wrote the first chapter, but have not planned out much else, so I’m not sure when I’ll post or share the fic. Enjoy this teaser for now!! Lots of love, Isi 💜

Banner was made by me! Lmk if you’re interested in being tagged whenever this goes up.

Teaser:

Rivulets of sweat roll down your back as you leave the air-conditioned shelter of José Martí International airport and step out into the muggy climate.

Something’s wrong. Agent Jeon should’ve been here by now. The young rookie was a sleeper in Havana, ready to receive you and the promise of his first big mission at a moment’s notice. 

Shivering as the droplets of sweat turn to ice, you fumble with your pockets, looking for your burner phone. Fuck, where was it?

Your hands close around a heavy weight and you nearly sob with relief as your screen lights up.

You have (1) new message from Seagull. 

Seagull: I’m sorry, unforeseen circumstances. On my way out. Good luck. Burn after reading.

Well shit. 

Not realizing you’d breathed the words out loud, an obnoxiously bright taxi rolls right up to the curb, right on cue.

You know better than to linger. Agents are meant to hide, meant to disappear. You have no other choice.

You keep your head down as you get in, hiding underneath the cover of your wide brimmed hat.

“Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here, agent,” the driver’s voice drawls. Pain shoots up your temples. The agency cannot be serious right now.

“Kim,” you seethed. “You have five seconds to tell me what the fuck you’re doing here or I won’t hesitate to blow your brains out. Have you gone senile, or did you forget that I was the sharp-shooter back in the day.”

Your head is throbbing now. This mission has turned into a giant waste of your time. 

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts au #bts imagine #bts fic #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #bts angst #seokjin angst #seokjin imagine #seokjin fic #jin angst #jin imagine #jin fic #armywriterssupport #isi writes #hahahahahahahaha i am a clown don't mind me

[tinyarmedtrex]

Do you know any good reddie slow-burns or good AUs?

Anon a BUNCH. Enjoy! 

Zero Characters Left by @stellarbisexual Rated E, Complete -  Eddie works in social media at a tech start-up in Boston, and Richie's been hired to do some video production for the company.

Havana by @wonderwheelzier Rated E, Complete-  Eddie Kaspbrak, a senior in college, lives a closeted life. That life, however, is challenged when he meets Richie Tozier on spring break.

Angels in the Outfield by @thelazyeye Rated M, Incomplete-  Richie takes solace in his inability to play any kind of physical sport ever. He knows he’ll hate this, but he also knows he won’t make the team. Not in a million years.

Where did we go? by therosystarling rated T, Incomplete-  At twenty-five, Eddie is the successful owner of his own car service, with only two problems in his life: he wants out of the relationship he's stuck in, and he can't remember much, if anything, of his childhood. When a Radio DJ Convention comes to town, Richie 'Mouth" Tozier just might help solve both of these problems. ** This is one of my FAV fics, it hasn’t been updated in forever but I have hopes**

The Edification of Eddie Kaspbrak by @kaspbrak Rated M, Complete-  Eddie thinks that sometimes, the saddest stuff life is made of isn’t the permanence of death, but the tragedy of losing something you can still have.

Yours. Mine. (Ours.) by @oldguybones Rated M, Incomplete-  When Eddie Kaspbrak decided it was time to adopt, he never expected to have his son’s birth-father show up wanting to be a part of his son's life. Let alone part of Eddie’s.

Sugar, Honey, Honey by @queen-sock Rated M, Complete- Eddie works in a bakery.  Eddie loved his quiet, simple life.Until he met Richie fucking Tozier, and his life was never simple again.

Beep-beep, Eddie Kaspbrak by Ragno Rated M, Complete-  Eddie Kaspbrak is 14 years old and he just defeated a demonic clown along with his friends. Eddie Kaspbrak is 18 years old and he'd much rather fight a demonic clown all over again than face his true feelings for Richie Tozier.

Richie the Ruiner by RanjantheVictor  Rated T, Complete-  It takes Richie Tozier a while to realise, but eventually he does. Richie ruins everything, no matter how much he tries not to.

#reddie #tinyarmedtrecs #theres so many good fics #mostly slow burn #bc AU is a huge category #I mean and they're AUs too #but yea #go read and comment!! #Anonymous

[yeahinoticed]

Trimberly Pirate AU

There are Very Many ideas in my head. If you’re interested in them, take a look at my feeble attempt at fic writing below.

Perhaps they were fated to meet, or maybe it was simply chance. Either way, there was no turning back. Their story was an inevitability - its movements as sure as the tides themselves.

A Pirate AU wherein Trini is a notorious pirate captain, and Kimberly just wants to be free.

Read it on AO3 here!

She had never expected to be here. Though Zack’s plans were wild to be sure, she had to concede that more often than not, they worked. Still, she’d rather it was him in her place. But as great a strategist as he was, Zack was terrible at keeping his cool. His excitement was likely to get the better of him, and if it happened here, it would spell the end of their careers - and most probably their lives. They just couldn’t risk it. Trini fiddles with the gaudy looking brooch pinned to her lapel. It looks like any other - a brassy little trinket engraved with a crown, vibrant red gemstone studded proudly in its centre. They’d picked it up in Havana last year, not long after their first success. Trini had been adamantly against spending their newfound gold on such frivolous things, but Zack would insist it was a token of celebration, a small purchase he’d treasure forever. It was hard to say no to such blinding enthusiasm, so she’d simply rolled her eyes and turned away, which he’d obviously taken as approval. Trini thought he’d get bored of it and sell it at the next port for some other shiny thing, but true to his word he’d held on to it, and the cocky grin he’d worn when brandishing it at her this morning had her reconsidering their partnership. Nevertheless, it was becoming useful now, so she supposed she couldn’t really fault him. 

She’d always thought such things were kind of tacky. Blatant shows of wealth and title weren’t really her style. They make you stand out. And in her line of work, standing out makes things a whole lot harder. Yet here she is, clad head to toe in a flashy formal ensemble. The mustard coat, the breeches, the stockings, the dastardly wig and feathered hat - the whole lot. The frills of her shirt tickle her neck and hands, a constant irritation in the back of her mind even as she peers up at the garish manor before her. Rendered cream walls, framed by extravagant trimming reflect the bright midday sun so brightly that they almost glow. The dark gravel path up to the manor is edged with smooth stones, dividing it from verdant garden beds which are somehow both calculated and unruly at the same time. At the base of the path, two uniformed guards flank an ornamental wrought iron gate. Its bars twist intricately to resemble thorned roses, and its top edge is studded with spikes. They glare at her, suspicion evident in their faces, hands gripping their rifles ever so slightly harder - imperceptible to an untrained eye. She understands their wariness - while her linen garments give the impression of status, she isn’t their typical wearer - no woman is. Trini might be accustomed to the blade, but it was time to put her sharp tongue to use.

 “State your business ma’am”.

 “Isn’t it quite obvious, good sir?” she replies. The accent doesn’t come easily to her, and if the guards notice, they give no indication of it.

 The one who had spoken looks to his comrade, visibly apprehensive. It was a difficult situation for him. If he gave the wrong person trouble, he’d be out of a job before evening. Yet he couldn’t simply stand aside, for then he wouldn’t be doing his job at all. He hadn’t signed up for such dilemmas. He sighs. 

 “Your invitation?”.

 “This is all hardly necessary” Trini remarks as she slips the folded letter from her inner breast pocket. The guard scans it over, thumbing the seal that identifies its sender. When he scans it a second time, his eyebrow quirks.

 “Forgive me ma’am, but you don’t quite look like an ‘Oliver’ to me”. His partner scoffs at this, before clearing his throat and making to smooth the collar of his regimental red coat, directing his gaze somewhere in the distance. Trini replies without missing a beat.

 “My father was quite set on the name before I was even born. Though I do wish someone had talked him out of it, I don’t very well mind being named after my grandfather”.

 The guard squints at her, before his frown eases in thought. Her reasoning wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility. 

 “Very well, Miss Bennett. I’m sure Governor Hart will be glad for your arrival. I apologise for the inconvenience. I do hope you enjoy the party.”

 At the guards nod, Trini makes her way through the gate. 

 “It’s quite alright, I get it all the time”. 

 ---

 As she steps into the main hall, Trini is struck by the atmosphere. A low chatter echoes off the stone floors, intermittently joined by the soft clanking of cutlery. She can still hear the familiar whispers of the ocean in the distance, beckoning her back sweetly. Around her, the guests are dressed much the same as she is. They converse with false smiles, many holding silver goblets filled with what she can only assume is a fine wine. A guard stands at the foot of the main stairs, rifle up against his shoulder. She passes another who stands at the entrance to the dining room. There were more than she thought there would be. How bothersome. She isn’t two steps into the room when the idle noises of the manor are joined by the gentle moan of a violin. A grand wooden dining table is set against the main window, adorned with an assortment of food, though she’s sure it normally resides front and centre. As tempting as it looks, it's not what Trini is here for. She lets out a quiet chuckle. Zack would’ve been right squiffy by the day's end, if he’d come along. The people in the room begin to pair up, swaying slowly to the violin’s song. While she’d prefer not to partake, she’s sure to arouse suspicion just standing here - and she’s not sure she could hold a real conversation without giving herself away. 

 Trini glances around the room. Standing by one of the large windows is a woman in a silken, rose coloured dress. She’s strikingly beautiful, with her dark brown hair in an elegant updo. It catches the afternoon light in a way that steals Trini’s breath for a moment. She’s about to look away, find someone else, when the woman turns, meeting her eyes. After a pause, the stranger smiles faintly, tilting her head in silent questioning. Rats. With one deep breath, Trini slips back into her persona. It was time to dance. 

 ---

 Kimberly Hart has attended many a party in her twenty three years. Her father’s parties, his friends’ parties, his enemies’ parties. It was expected of her really. Don a pretty dress, be receptive (but not too receptive) to her potential suitors. Gossip idly with girls who have far too much time on her hands. She didn’t mind it, most of the time. She had to admit though, it could get a little boring. This was her father’s third ‘dance’ of the year and it was only February. He had to keep up appearances of course. How else would his peers know of Port Royal’s thriving trade if he did not celebrate it with fine wine and finer appearances. Even so, Kimberly could only tolerate the advances of so many men. Nobles, with promises of glamour and comfort back in the motherland. Merchant sailors who weave tales of wealth and adventure that seem just a little too crafted to be true. Naval captains who think their pride and ranking should have her swooning at their feet with nary another word. Every so often, there’d be one or two who would have her attention. Whose silk tongues and vibrant eyes would draw her in, if only momentarily. But she’d find soon enough that her biting wit was never appreciated for long, and the smooth talking would always give way to frustration. It seemed she was simply a prize to be won, a hill to be conquered. Bragging rights. Quite frankly, she was sick of it.

 And so, Kimberly finds herself standing by the front window of the dining room, eyes ensnared by the gentle ebb and flow of the waves upon the beach. Her mother used to tell her stories of the ocean - stories far grander, far more fascinating than those of her suitors. Stories of sleepless nights in raging storms. Of brilliant new lands and people and creatures. Of days spent in song and nights spent in stupor. She’d always wondered what it was like out there, beyond the confines of her father’s estate and everything it represented. Would she go? If given the chance? The thought is at the forefront of her mind when she feels the familiar pressure of a set of eyes, trying and failing to be inconspicuous. Turning quickly she seeks them out, finding a woman who seems just out of place. She’s wearing an embroidered suit, woven linen in a yellow far too green. The hair of her grey wig is pulled into a ponytail beneath her feathered tricorne. Her attire is interesting, yes, but Kimberly does not recognise her. She recognises most of her father’s guests. She feels her lips twitch upwards at the woman, holding her gaze from across the room. 

 Something flashes across her watcher’s face, gone too quickly to identify. The woman strides towards her, light on her feet. There's a vague slant to her hips, an unfamiliar swagger that Kimberly thinks might betray some unknown truth. What secrets were held in her small frame? She presents her hand, palm upturned. “May I have this dance?”.

 Kimberly takes her hand, finds it unexpectedly rough and calloused, but gentle. As if their union was a cue, the music picks up, the rest of the band joining the violin as its pace hastens. They begin to dance a casual rigaudon, Kimberly following the stranger’s lead. She waits for her partner to address her, watches her eyes flick about the room. They’ve stepped around each other three times before Kimberly breaks the silence.  “The strong silent type then?” 

 As if only just remembering where she was, the woman’s eyes snap towards her. Her brows knit together. “Pardon?”.

 This was unusual. Kimberly’s suitors would usually rush to fill silences, trying desperately to keep her eyes upon them. It seems her current partner barely cares for her existence. “You haven’t spoken a word to me since you asked me to dance”. She’s surprised at the venom that laces her words - it hadn’t been intentional.

 “I’m quite sorry madam”. With a turn, they dance in the reverse direction. “I was simply admiring the Governor’s manor. It’s quite beautiful. Have you been here before?” 

 Kimberly almost stops dancing. She searches the other woman’s face for any sign of jest, finding nothing but honesty and vague inattention. It was absurd to think a guest to this party would not know her name, though she supposes it could be possible. Her irritation fades quickly, replaced by a mounting curiosity. “My family is close to the Governor’s”, she lies. 

 Her partner’s only response is an idle hum. 

 With their next step, Kimberly’s eyebrow quirks. She pulls the woman into a twirl under her arm.  “And you are?” she inquires.

 Seemingly startled by the movement, the other woman stumbles slightly, before regaining her footing and resuming their dance. “Bennett. Oliver Bennett”, she replies firmly. Pulling Kimberly into a twirl of her own, she smirks. “Merchant extraordinaire”.

 Kimberly mulls the name over. Oliver Bennett. It sounded vaguely familiar, but any recognition she might have had was fleeting - as out of reach as a feather in the breeze. Though the woman had said it quite confidently, it had a strange sort of inflection. In fact, now that Kimberly thought about it, the woman’s accent was unfamiliar. It sounded vaguely English, but her words were more rounded, had a rich and intriguing depth to them, like they were dripping with such experience that it bled into their very sound. Kimberly’s stomach dips in a way she’s sure could be addicting. She returns her attention to Miss Bennett, only to find that her eyes are once again fixed elsewhere. She follows her gaze, finds it trained on the staircase in the entry hall. With a tilt of her head, Kimberly drapes an arm over her partner’s shoulder, pulling her closer with every step. “Extraordinaire, hmm?”.

 The woman drags her eyes back to Kimberly’s and holds them there for a long moment. Her smile turns upwards. “You sound surprised, Miss…”

 “Clarke”, Kimberly supplies, flinching internally. It had been the first name to enter her mind. She banishes the thoughts that surround it. Not now. “It's not every day I meet a woman merchant” she admits. “You’ve piqued my interest Miss Bennett”. 

 Though it seems the other woman’s attention is now firmly upon her, Kimberly makes no move to increase the distance between them again. This close, she can see the depths of colour within the other woman’s eyes, reflecting the light of the setting sun. They glint with unspoken secrets, not unlike the pieces of foreign jewelry often brought by traders upon the tide. Promises of a world much larger than anything Kimberly had experienced. 

 “Some would say my methods are...unconventional”. The merchant’s words bring her out of her reverie. They serve only to deepen her curiosity.

 “However do you mean?” Kimberly presses. 

 “Trade secrets, Miss Clarke - I can’t simply give them away”, she replies with a wink. “But I have to be smart you see”. Another twirl brings their faces impossibly close together, and she whispers her next words carefully. “There are pirates out there you know”. 

 Kimberly is about to press further, when the sharp ringing of the town bell cuts through the manor, signalling another day’s end. The music begins to fade, and the woman detaches and spins away from her with a sly smile, disappearing amongst the meandering throng of people moving from the dining room into the entrance hall. She scans the small crowd, but any traces of the woman’s yellow coat and devious grin are gone as swiftly as they had come. It's only once she turns back to the window that Kimberly notices how fast her heart is beating. 

#trimberly #trini x kimberly #kimberly hart #trini not kwan #trini kwan #trini gomez #Power Rangers #power rangers 2017 #pirate au #liketheocean #art #my art #sketch #sketchbook #this might not be the most engaging story #its more a diary of my headcanon #which involves a lot of descriptive writing #painting pictures with words eh? #i am more familiar with the picture medium after all

[duskholland]

hi bby, can u please recommend some badboy😼 tom and harrison fics pls :)

I couldn’t find any for Haz, sorry :( for Tom, I’ve split the fics into two separate categories. I struggled to find a lot of purely badboy!Tom fics and wanted to give you more than just a few pieces, so you get a bonus category with some boxer and tattoo artist fics too -- I hope that’s alright :)

----

conventional badboy!Tom

eighteen (series) - @angelic-holland

study abroad (series) - @underoos-shield

I’ll be your good girl - @terrifictomholland

to feel you - @parkeret

havana - @nothingbutimagines

a collection of some very hot badboy!Tom blurbs - @punani​

----

some boxing/tattoo artist aus

tattoo artist - @hollandbaby

boxing - @hollandbaby

frustrations - @naturallytom

teach me - @angelic-holland

you take care of me, I take care of you - @blissfulparker

tattooed heart - @blissfulparker

play me - @mrs-hollandstan

this boxer!tom blurb - @stuckonspidey

this boxer!tom blurb - @spiderboytotherescue

#this took me 90+ minutes #i hope u appreciate the absolute mission i just undertook for u lmao #go read them all !! #then pls scream to the writers abt how awesome they are #thank u #recs #Anonymous #myrecs

[mandolovian]

fanfic writer appreciation

hello!!! due a highly unfortunate combination of both 1. i didn’t know it was fanfic writers’ appreciation day and 2. i had an exam today and so i wasn’t online over the weekend, i missed out on friday’s / saturday’s LOVELY posts and mentions :((

i think im really damn lucky that i stumbled on all you writers / artists / creators, i genuinely don’t think i’ve been this happy to be writing in ages, and you’re all so fucking amazing and talented and a little bit of my heart stays with you all

i thought i’d make a little list of some of my absolute fave writers and fic, since you deserve ALL the praise bc i personally know the absolute effort it takes to write fics of any length - this is not an exhaustive list by any means (see here for more!) but maybe i’ll update this somewhat regularly!

paz viszla | saviin’ika -- @stubbychaos : i don’t think i can properly articulate how much this fic means to me - has some absolute stunning prose and portrayal of pain, but such comforting and loving tenderness too. i’m thoroughly and absolutely invested in their story and lives together

paz viszla | you hurt, i hurt -- @datmando​ : i feel like i’ve felt every single emotion under the sun while reading this, it’s absolutely gorgeous and the way that paz is written is so tender and loving, and i love seeing their journey and lives just evolve with each chapter

paz viszla | something sweet -- @hdlynnslibrary​ : i love coffee shop aus and i loved this too! the little internal conflict that paz has about referring to the waitress as ‘his’ and something about imagining paz using a straw makes me very very happy

agent whiskey | my love is a dagger -- @goldafterglow​ : some of the most beautiful poetic language and sheer pining i’ve ever read. absolutely stunningly visceral characterisation too, and my heart just kept breaking for poor jack

agent whiskey | first time (soft) sleeping together -- @littleferal​ : amazingly comforting and empowering but still very loving piece. the line ‘you lead the dance’ - i’ve thought about that daily since i’ve read this

cassian andor | dissimulato -- @hansoulo​ : this was! the first fic i had read in like six years! absolutely 100% responsible for getting me hooked back into the starwars fandom and it was stunning fic too - to combination of dirty dancing and rogue one was amazing, and i spent actual money in renting havana nights after reading this

javier peña | sure of you -- @ergotautology​ : im absolutely biased because i requested this, but i cannot properly emphasise how whole this made me feel, and how much it just made my heart ache. also, this has amazing figurative prose and it feels like (and i know that) every word was chosen so deliberately, and i would sincerely love to live inside this fic

rex | of sleepless nights -- @chaotic-noceur​ : sleepy and tired and very very soft. one of the gentlest angst / comforts fics i’ve read and i love it so much. i may or may not read this almost nightly because of how loved it makes me feel

din djarin | the lovely moons -- @vercopaanir​ : genuinely this may have been the fic to tip me over from just lurking on here to actually writing my own fics too. i love it so much! the pacing and twists and the character development in this fic - honestly i could write a dissertation and still not cover how much i love it

din djarin | rough day -- @no-droids​ : im barely lying when i say my mouth is always a little bit open and a little bit dry while reading any part of this fic. stunning, showstopping, fucking delicious. that part about the reader doing a minihunt while sleep deprived was genius

gustavo gaviria | numinous descenso -- @gustavos​ : i read this because i was mildly interested at seeing a gustavo fic, then absolutely became hooked. im still not exactly sure how you made the character in such a way that my heart just breaks anytime anything happens to her. absolutely amazing prose, genuinely an amazing fic

#i love you all #with ALL my heart #all ventricles and atria #maybe the vessels too #fic rec

[emeraldsage98]

3,14,23? 🙂

Hey anon friend!  Thanks for sending in an ask!

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Oh my god, what isn’t that one scene.  I have literally built worlds around the one scene I wanted to write because it would never make sense otherwise.  But one of my favorites is this scene is in an ABO verse where Omega!Alfred and Alpha!Ivan are going to meet in Cuba to solve some diplomatic shit after the Cuban Missile Crisis.  Only, Alfred feels himself hit pre-heat as he’s touching down in Havana, and legit freaks out. And bolts to Carlos (who’s his big bro, regardless of the shit they bitch at each other about), because he and Ivan are yes/no/maybe so mates but on very weird standing given the Cold War.  A lot of the context that’s just frustrating to put in happens over time: 1) Alfred’s status as an Omega was still contentious amongst the world, 2) During WW2, because of his govt’s prejudice, he took untested heat suppressants in order to be on the front lines with his troops, to boost morale. 3) This was a highly contested decision with Ivan, who is his mate, and keeps coming back whenever they argue, because it affected Alfred long term, though no one else knows about it. 4) For example: when he got pregnant with Alaska, he almost miscarried multiple times, his heat schedule is still irregular decades later, and they fight about the after affects constantly and pisses them both off so, 5) Alfred really doesn’t want Ivan to know the moment he touches down in Havana and realizes he’s about to hit heat.  Also, heat in this ABO verse is a little different? Which is more crazy context you need to know - I could literally go on for ages on the structure and nitty gritty facts of the ABO verse me and @usagi323 have been brainstorming.

SO, anyways, Alfred tries to keep it from Ivan, and asks Carlos not to tell him.  And ofc, no one knows they’re mates, SO... yeah, Carlos ain’t telling Ivan shit.

Does that stop Ivan from finding out?  Not a chance in hell.

And ofc Ivan’s not mean enough while his mate’s mid heat to start in on the whole bitchfest about untested suppressants, so they just spend the rest of the week aggressively cuddling while Carlos yeets himself the fuck out of there.

So.

Yeah.

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

Either it’s right in the middle of trying to regain my inspo, or at the veeeery end lol.  Titles are my nemesis.

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

Hmm, that’s tricky.  I’ve got two, really.  One is this Superhero AU (not like the one I have up, or the one I did for NaNo), where Alfred is a hero, and he’s caught in civilian form and held hostage by his rival.  After which we proceed to have a comedic sequence of events that eventually leads to a reveal.  The second is a rewrite of Mercy.  Honestly, if I could re-write one fic in its entirety, it would be that one.  I’m just not happy with it anymore? Every few months, I’ll sit down at my laptop and my fingers twitch with the need to rewrite it.  So, definitely that one.

#sage speaks #anon asks #writing meta #rusame #plotting