#luc writes

[svnflower-writes]

Hey, if you are up to it can you write something with Nikolai Lantsov, where the main character is his first army general. and Maybe in a battle the mc got hurt very badly, And Nikolai is fully heart broken and panicked But still trying to play it cool so no one would realise he has feelings for her. So he goes to meet her late at night in her tent, just to check in, and you know make it a little hurt comfort fluff, or maybe add some angst, Up to you. I just need inspiration for a new before bed scenario/daydream

Nikolai Lantsov x fem!first army general!reader

Warnings: blood, injuries

thanks for the request!!

ok wait i’ve never written for the grishaverse so this may be terrible but we’ll see (also i wasn’t sure if you wanted him to be with the mc already or not but i made it an established relationship i hope that's okay xx) (I actually kind of hate this one ngl not my best work i'm so sorry but i hope its okay)

y/n isn’t used because i know a lot of people don’t like it, she/her pronouns used for reader

hurt/comfort + reader uses humour as a crutch A LOT + nikolai is very scared of being a disappointment :( 

Many of Nikolai’s army generals have been hurt, and it always upsets him. But right now? It’s taking every ounce of self control not to go find you and hold you in his arms—but that would be weird on many different levels, partly because no one in the first army—or the world, at that—knew anything about what was going on between the two of you. It was only the early stages of your relationship, you’d been officially dating for a month. Although Nikolai wanted to tell people, you did not out of fear that your fellow members of the first army would see you differently—and Nikolai was a respectful man, he would never push you into anything you weren’t ready for.

So, when he heard the news that you were hurt, he had only just managed to keep himself from asking an obscene amount of questions as to where you were and how long ago the injuries had taken place, keeping it to a simple: “please make sure she gets her injuries treated to as soon as possible.” 

Two hours after he had received the news, he sat in his tent, trying his hardest to get at least a little bit of sleep but failing miserably as he kept tossing and turning wondering if you were okay. He almost felt stupid, being so worried about you (he knew you were strong and you would get through this perfectly, and he had complete faith in you) but he really couldn’t help it. After another half an hour, he realised that he wasn’t going to get any sleep unless he knew you were okay. So, in the earliest hours of the morning, before the sun had even begun to bathe the army camp in warm light, he pulled himself out of bed. He hurriedly got changed and began his walk to your tent. 

He arrived at your tent and quietly asked, “it’s Nikolai, can I come in?”

There was a short moment of silence before you responded, “yeah, of course. Was wondering when you’d show up.”

Once he was inside the tent, he looked around. His eyes seemed to soften at the sight of you alive and well, and a small smile graced his lips. “I’m kind of surprised you’re still up, darling. You should be sleeping so that you heal faster.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “and yet, here you are. In my tent, keeping me awake.”

He grinned slightly, “just had to make sure you were okay.”

“Hmm, so you do this for every general who gets hurt? That must take you a lot of time—very thoughtful of you.” your teasing smirk made his heart leap slightly.

“Well, you are very hurt, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, speaking of me being very hurt, could you pass me that fresh bandage? And the tray next to it?”

He instantly grabbed the bandage and tray, “are you okay?” 

You nodded quickly, “yeah, some of the stitches broke just before you came in—I don’t want to wake up anyone so I figured I’d just do it myself.” 

Nikolai frowned, “absolutely not.”

You sighed, “you’re not letting me fix the stitches? Do you want me to bleed out?”

“I just don’t want you to have to do it yourself, you deserve to have someone tending to your wounds.”

You scoffed lightly, a playful grin painting your features. “So are you going to tend to my wounds, your highness?” 

“Yes.” 

You blinked quickly, doing a double take. “What?” 

He smirked, “I said yes.” 

“I thought you’d just get someone-”

“Absolutely not.” he repeated his earlier words, “I’m going to help my girlfriend heal as soon as you possibly can, and I will do whatever I can to help you.”

As he took care of your stitches, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence until he spoke up. 

“I was terrified when I heard that you were hurt.” 

You watched his face carefully as he continued to speak. 

“Couldn’t even sleep, I was so worried.” 

You gently took his hand in yours, pressing a soft kiss to it before laughing gently, “well, if you think you were scared, imagine how I must have felt.” 

Nikolai didn’t laugh with you, “that’s exactly what I was thinking. You were hurt and I wasn’t there for you when you got hurt and I should have been there and–” 

You shut him up with a quick kiss, “no, don’t say that. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. You couldn’t have known.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Now focus on making sure I don’t bleed out, and then we can cuddle.”

[svnflowermoon]

Hi!!!! first of all you're literally so cool anddd do you have any tips for writing bc I have a lot of ideas and I really want to try writing!!!

omg thank you so much and yes! i wouldn't say im the most organised writer but i write A LOT and i get a lot done.

to begin with, this advice might not work for you. make sure you work at your own pace and don't do anything that'll burn you out! i don't know what you want to write, but no matter what it is, you shouldn't edit while writing. finish what you're writing and THEN go through and edit because otherwise you get stuck in a permanent cycle of perfectionism (i would know lmao)

(this works for me but idk if it'll work for you) literally write whatever comes to your mind and do not delete it until you come to the editing process. you can add and delete as much as you want in the editing process but you want your draft to have enough to work with. I like to have a set number of words I'll write each day and because I don't delete as I write i often write maybe 3x what I say I will!! if you want to set yourself a daily word count, make it something that doesn't sound intimidating to you. 50 words? great! 100 words? great! 200? great! you can always start off at a smaller number and work your way up as you get more confident in your writing skill :)

(this stands for all writers) write what you want to write!! don't write what you feel the audience will enjoy, write it as if no one will ever see the writing and be self indulgent. write whatever you want to write because if you enjoy writing it then it'll be better!

i hope this helped and this was kind of what you were looking for, if you want any more advice feel free to send me another ask or message me, also if you ever want anyone to read your work so you can get a second opinion on it I would love to help <3

[novlr]

“A story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end, but not necessarily in that order.” — Jean-Luc Godard

[alverrann]

I played the "let your word suggestions write a paragraph for you" game - it's like multiple choice writing but the choices are generally bad/based on common phrases and words you use - mostly because I was bored 😅

I was trying to get something decent out of it but had to take a break to laugh when this came up:

It literally has to be one of the funniest things I've seen in a bit (probably cuz it caught me completely off-guard 😭😭)

Anyway. He doesn't have hair; this is true (and yes my phone suggests that I type Picard when things are blank - that oughta tell you what I've been up to 😅😅)

[secretlittlerandezvous]

New Chapter - Pierre-Luc Dubois

Summary: When Y/n discovers she’s pregnant, a wave of emotions overwhelms her. She breaks down in tears before she can tell Pierre.

Words: 624

Note: This has been sitting in my inbox for 4 years and I never got to write it. Until today.

Y/n sat on the edge of their bed, staring at the two solid pink lines on the test beside her. Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the mattress, her mind a chaotic whirlwind of emotions. Excitement. Fear. Disbelief. Love.

She heard the front door open, followed by the familiar sound of paws skittering across the floor as their dogs rushed to greet Pierre. His voice carried through the house, soft and full of love as he greeted them.

"Hey, where's your mom, huh?" he asked the dogs.

Her heart pounded as his footsteps grew closer. She tried to steady her breathing, but the moment he stepped into the room, all the emotions she’s been holding back crashed over her like a wave.

Pierre’s smile disappeared immediately. "Hey… what’s wrong?" His brows furrowed together as he crossed the room in two long strides. "Talk to me, babe."

She tried. She really did. But instead of words, a broken sob tore from her throat.

His face shifted from confusion to alarm. "Whoa, hey, hey," he murmured, dropping to his knees in front of her. His large hands landed gently on her thighs, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over her leggings. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

Y/n shook her head quickly, but the tears kept coming, her shoulders shaking under the weight of everything she was feeling.

Pierre cupped her face, his thumbs catching the tears as they fell. His voice was softer now, full of concern. "Baby, you’re scaring me."

She sniffled, squeezing her eyes shut for a second before finally forcing the words out. "I’m pregnant."

Silence.

She hesitated before cracking her eyes open, just in time to see his lips part slightly, his breath hitching. His hands slid from her face, his gaze dropping to the test she had clenched in her fist.

"You-" He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before looking back up at her. "You’re pregnant?"

She nodded, her grip tightening on the test. "I-I didn’t know how to tell you, and I just-“ Another sob cut her off as fresh tears welled in her eyes. "I’m scared, Pierre."

His expression softened instantly, and before she could spiral further, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. His lips pressed into her hair as one of his hands ran up and down her back, grounding her.

"It’s okay," he murmured, his voice steady despite the slight tremor beneath it. "You and me, we’ve got this, Y/n."

She clung to him, her fists curling into the fabric of his hoodie. "It’s just… everything’s going to change."

Pierre pulled back slightly, just enough to tip her chin up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Yeah, it is," he admitted. "And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared too." He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "I mean, a tiny human? Depending on us? That’s terrifying."

She let out a watery laugh.

"But," he continued, brushing a few damp strands of hair from her face, "we’ve built something pretty damn great, haven’t we? You, me, and our dogs."

She nodded, sniffling.

"And now, we get to add another member to the family." His hand drifted hesitantly to her stomach, fingers moving over the fabric. "This is our baby, Y/n." His voice was quiet, almost in awe. "Ours."

Her heart swelled as she placed her hand over his. "Ours."

Pierre exhaled, the weight of the moment settling in, but this time, when he looked at her, there was no hesitation.

"Okay," he said, his lips curling into that familiar lopsided grin. "Let’s do this. Let’s be parents."

Y/n laughed, finally feeling the last bit of fear slip away.

[mo-racca]

fields of mistria is the first farming/life sim to write child characters that are actually well-written enough for me to want to build a friendship with them

[mostly-natm]

Little guy reveal!

(Read SO many more of my thoughts below!)

(Please be aware that I have done zero research for this post, because I’m just sharing my thoughts for fun!)

Let’s look a little closer at these stinky little guys, shall we?

They’ve got the years they’re from on the bottoms of their feet! Lore is the oldest (1993), and Tasha is the youngest (1995)! Picard, Riker, Worf, and Geordi are all from 1994.

Surprisingly, being the oldest, I actually think I like Lore’s paint job the best! His eyebrows are definitely too dark (and off mold), but they are far from the worst, as we’ll see! I like that they painted in his pink waterlines. I don’t like that it doesn’t show up in pictures.

Oh, baby. Someone please pull up the countless memes about blue eyes for poor Riker.

Geordi is looking as handsome as ever! Likely because they didn’t need to paint his eyes.

Captain, my Captain! Remember what I said earlier about Lore not being the worst example of too-dark eyebrows? Yeah. Also, he appears to be experimenting with white lipstick! I support him in all his endeavors (as long as they’re not eyebrow related).

Worf! I feel like they’ve done him a little dirty with the eye shadow. Are they trying to make him look meaner? Worf isn’t mean. He’s a sweetie pie.

[galacticsuperstitions]

when the rhythms are doctor

[the-heartstring-chronicles]

Next time someone tells you fanfiction is dumb, lazy, weird or cringe, remember this

Captain Jean Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise D, E and G ( for a hot second when it was the Titan) fanficced so hard that no only did he Larry Stu himself into the role of Dixon Hill, which was based on a novel in canon, he basically got the woman he loved to accidentally Mary Sue herself into playing one of his potential love interests.

And maybe you want to call that LARPing instead, but the holdeck is one big LARP/FIc combo machine to me.

So you’re not lame for that fic you spent hours on , unless you think Captain Jean Luc Picard of the Enterprise is lame, and regardless of whether you’re a Trekkie or not, I bet you don’t. :)

So happy writing/reading everyone and enjoy!

[svnflower-writes]

i could never give you peace

description: James reached his hand out, gently cupping Regulus’ cheek and moving some hair out of his eyes. “Hey, little star.” Regulus leaned slightly into the touch, but didn’t speak. “Let’s get you to your room, yeah?”

or

in which James comforts Regulus after a particularly bad fight with his parents.

relationship: bodyguard!james potter x regulus black

warnings: mentions of child abuse, secret/forbidden relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, james may be slightly out of character but idk maybe he's just sad 😭

requested: yes!! @allyeardepression requested this about 4 months ago and i am SO sorry for taking so long writer's block has been kicking my ass omg i started writing as soon as you requested it but it sat there unfinished for far too long. anyway i hope you like it!!!

note: uh ok hi. this is the first thing i've posted in MONTHS and i wrote most of it in class so it's not great but fuck it i had to post something. also... sorry. the first thing i write in five months and it's heartwrenching angst, which is very typical of me. also based off a taylor swift song which is also very typical of me

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54453148

marauders taglist: (lmk if you want to be added or removed) @lovefolder @gu1lty-as-sin @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies @a-beautiful-fool @optimizedchaos @qwerty-keysmash @lost-in-reveriie @tulips-best @nqds

James had to pretend that it didn’t affect him, seeing Orion and Walburga treat their children like they did. After all, he was there to work for all of them. But Merlin, he felt bad. The looks that flashed across the younger brother’s face were subtle enough that anyone else would have missed it, but James didn’t miss any small details—especially when they were to do with the little star.

This was one of these moments, James was positioned outside the closed door as he heard the screaming match going on directly behind him. He heard snippets of conversation, words such as ‘useless’ and ‘pathetic’ making their way to his ears and crushing a little bit of his heart. He supposed he was lucky not to be in the room while it was happening, but all he wanted was to rush in and protect Regulus from the harsh words and actions of his parents.

James allowed his head to rest against the wall, exhaling slowly as his eyes trailed over the dark tiles on the ceilings. The decor on the house was not to James’ personal taste, a combination of dark brown, green, cream, and black. He glanced down to the floor, the extravagant geometric tiles making him feel claustrophobic and sick to the stomach. Harsh black wallpaper covered the wall, the dull gold picture frames making a pathetic attempt to soften the unharmonious glare. The paintings in the frames were judging him, the upturned noses and narrowed eyes made that obvious enough.

James and Regulus had been quick to subtly remove the paintings in the hallway outside Reg’s room—Orion and Walburga didn’t tend to go up there, so no one noticed. Sirius had given them a knowing smirk when he’d caught them sneaking down a hall with a covered portrait of one of Regulus’ great aunts, but he had said nothing. Sirius held an undeniable feeling of respect for James, he could see how much he cared for his little brother, and for that he was eternally grateful.

A sharp, high pitched shout broke James out of his trance, and he glanced at the door with a grimace.

Walburga Black was his least favourite person in the whole world. He couldn’t clearly hear what followed the shout, but he had a few ideas of what it could be. He had been in the room when this had happened a few times before, and Sirius had always seemed indifferent to his parents actions—James knew he wasn’t, of course.

It was all just an act in the Black family, everyone simply pretending to be okay and pushing their feelings to the back of their minds. Regulus was less numb to the pain, and while Sirius just sat there sprawled out on the couch, ignoring his parents, Regulus always looked unnaturally stiff. He was trying to copy Sirius, that much was obvious. But it was clear that the words got to Regulus, the way his brows furrowed and he blinked quickly or looked away with fiddling hands.

Then again, maybe there was a reason that James noticed these things—not that he could take much notice of whatever underlying feelings there were anyway, since Regulus might as well be his employer. He knew Regulus felt the same, of course. There were signs, there had been since a mere two months after James started the job. Fleeting glances, brief touching of fingers as James passed him something to eat, waiting for him in the halls— the list could go on and on.

Regulus knew that James liked him too, as James wasn’t exactly subtle. He tended to forget himself when they were around others, such as Sirius or Pandora—which made for a lot of teasing from the two. Barty and Evan couldn’t say much, as they were in much the same situation.

So the two had kept up the secret whispers and hidden gazes, neither boy making any more to further the relationship, even behind closed doors. There was only so much they could get away with, and they were not embarrassed to admit that they were terrified. They were terrified of the nature of their world, the judgements and the prejudice that came with merely trying to exist. They would prefer to be open with each other about their relationship, but they would take whatever they could get at this point.

The door next to him flew open and Walburga stormed out, not even sparing James the slightest glance as she walked past him. Orion followed close behind, the harsh glare painting his face giving James an idea of the severity of the fight. After the brother’s exchanged short hushed whispers, Sirius walked through the door, offering James a small, polite smile. He walked past and James stopped him quietly. Sirius’ eyes narrowed slightly.

“Is there anything I can do?” At James’ words, Sirius’ expression softened.

“Talk to him. I’ve done as much as I can, but I think we both know that you’re better at this stuff.” Sirius pulled James into a quick hug, “and thank you. It means a lot that you try, seriously. It’s not exactly part of your job description.” Sirius being Sirius, he laughed, but it was obvious that he wasn’t actually amused. James had known Sirius for three years, and if there was one thing he had learnt about him, it was his use of humour as a coping mechanism.

“You go sneak out to Remus, I’ll take care of him.”

Sirius grinned slightly, reaching out to ruffle James’ hair, “aw, you know me too well.”

James groaned at his now messy hair—as if his hair wasn’t always a mess—pushing Sirius away and waving him towards the door, “go find your lover, Pads.”

Sirius was out the door without another word.

James glanced down the hallway to ensure it was empty and walked into the room the fight had just taken place in. Regulus was sitting on the ground and had his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and head leaning against the cushion of the couch. He didn’t look up when James entered, nor when the older boy crouched down in front of him. His face wasn’t betraying what emotions he was feeling, but James knew.

James always knew.

James reached his hand out, gently cupping Regulus’ cheek and moving some hair out of his eyes. “Hey, little star.” Regulus leaned slightly into the touch, but didn’t speak. “Let’s get you to your room, yeah?”

Regulus nodded, mumbling something incoherent under his breath before looking up. “Good idea.” he took James’ outstretched hand to help him up off the ground. Even well after he had stood up, he kept his hand in James’, determined not to let go.

Regulus clearly had something he wanted to say, but his brain was not connected to the rest of his body, still in autopilot from the fight. His eyes were empty and his hands were clasped together in front of him as James gently rested his palm on his lower back to guide him up the stairs. Regulus subtly leaned into the touch, his heartbeat slowly calming and the goosebumps littering his skin beginning to fade.

Merely being near James brought him an unparalleled sense of peace.

James let his hand rub up and down his lower back comfortingly, and for a brief second he considered taking Regulus’ hand in his own but he decided against it. His brain was plagued with guilt, wishing he could rescue Regulus from the cruel reality that was his family. But no matter what James wanted, it wasn’t that simple. It never was.

James could never give Regulus peace.

Regulus stopped walking and James looked up from where his gaze had been fixed on the floor in confusion. He soon noticed that they were in fact directly outside the door to Regulus’ room. Regulus seemed to take notice of the fact that James was lost in his head and he squeezed his hand reassuringly.

After checking if the hallway was clear, James quickly opened the door. He wasn’t really supposed to enter any of the private rooms in the house, but Regulus had insisted many times that it was alright. No matter how safe Regulus felt around him, he couldn’t risk Orion and Walburga spotting him. He really was Regulus’ only source of comfort.

Regulus sat down on his bed with a blank expression on his face. James sat down next to him and pulled a bottle of water out of his bag. He handed it to Regulus with no words spoken, because the pair didn’t need words. This routine was very familiar to the two of them now, it was almost a second nature.

James quickly checked for any injuries—he hadn’t heard anything to make him suspect that there could’ve been a physical nature to the fight, but he had seen enough bruises on the Black siblings to make double checking an automatic part of the procedure. There was one on the side of Regulus’ cheek, and James pulled out the healing ointment from his bag and carefully put a little bit on the bruise.

James pushed the guilt at being unable to protect Regulus from his parents aside, knowing that this was not about him.

Once Regulus had finished, he slowly leaned into James’ side, letting out a sigh as he closed his eyes. The crook of James’ neck was like a puzzle piece that was made perfectly for Regulus’ head, and as the two slowly relaxed into each other's presence, James let his hands drift up to Regulus’ hair. His fingers slowly entangled themselves into the dark curls as he comfortingly stroked Regulus’ forehead.

It was clear to James that the support Regulus needed right now was not someone to tend to his wounds, but someone to hold him. So hold him he did. James’ right hand moved slowly up and down the small of Regulus’ back soothingly, showing an undeniable caution not to startle the younger boy with any quick movements.

He cared more about the little star than was possible to admit, and he prioritised his safety over everything else. The two lay in each other’s arms for what felt like (and probably was) hours. Suddenly, Regulus shifted in his arms, mumbling something under his breath.

James tilted his head like a confused puppy, gesturing for Regulus to repeat himself. Regulus cleared his throat and glanced away.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For…” Regulus trailed off, and James was about to let it go—he wasn’t going to push for him to open up more than he was willing to do.

“...for keeping me safe.”

The dark haired boy’s voice was merely a whisper, head buried into James’ shoulder as he refused to meet his eyes. He was embarrassed, James realised. He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent.

James thought that the two were about to fall back into their silence, when Regulus spoke. “It’s peaceful.”

Giving him an inquisitive look, James turned to face Regulus.

“Being here with you. You’re peaceful.”

James stiffened slightly before slowly nodding, “yeah, I know what you mean. You’re peaceful too, little star.”

You deserve more peace than I can give you.

Regulus smiled up at him, entwining their fingers reassuringly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more at peace than I am when I lie here with you.”

Merlin, it’s like he can hear my thoughts.

Finally, James responded. “You mean more to me than anyone else ever has, little star.”

There was a raw honesty in his tone. He may not love their situation, but he loved the boy in front of him with his whole heart.

No matter where this road was leading, James knew it was where he wanted to go. Whatever the roadworks along the way, he was in this for good.

[yourbuerokrat2]

It was Picards retirement party. His former senior crew, some important diplomats and a self-proclaimed 'special guest' were there. Whose presence was, aside from his commentary during various speeches and a clear attempt at hogging Picards attention, strangely tolerable.

Until the end, that is.

It was .. bewildering when Q shook everyones hands, even congratulating Beverly on her new position and Riker on his captaincy.

"I am sure you all will be very busy. But don't you worry. I'll take good care of him from now on."

Putting his arm around Picard, Q snapped his fingers and they both were gone.

[svnflowermoon]

also i have a fic where sirius does remus' makeup go read it <3

i've posted like one piece of art here in the whole time i've been here so hiii heres some messy wolfstar art <333

[metalloverlord]

light's crises

[ishomieokay]

✧ ❝Moon River❞ ✧ (Pt. I)

pairing: picard x q.

✰ summary -"You wanted to get away from it all, didn't you?" Q says, but Jean-Luc never imagined this.

✰ tags//warnings - imprisonment, kidnapping, past relationship, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, requited unrequited love, implied sexual content, unhealthy relationships. AO3. Part II.

*･༓˚✧*･༓˚✧*･༓˚✧*･༓˚✧*･༓˚✧*･༓˚✧*･༓

Jean-Luc sat in the center of the impossible room, its walls shimmering like liquid starlight. No matter how often he blinked or adjusted his perspective, the scenery refused to remain constant. Sometimes, it stretched into a grand cathedral of nebulae. Other times, it collapsed into a claustrophobic void. No matter its form, his circumstances were the same. He was utterly alone.

Or, at least, he wanted to be.

“Really, you’ve no one to blame for this but yourself, Jean-Luc.” From behind him, the telltale, mischievous lilt of Q’s voice broke the silence. “You said you wanted to get away from it all, didn’t you?”

Picard didn’t turn. He hadn’t so much as looked at Q since the moment he’d found himself in this infernal place. A thousand retorts came to mind, each as sharp and cutting as the phaser he wished he had. Instead, he reached for the cup of tea that hadn’t existed a moment ago but now sat steaming on the pedestal beside him. It was Earl Grey, of course. Hot, perfectly brewed. He didn’t drink it.

“Ah, the silent treatment,” Q mused, his tone almost sing-song. “I thought we were past such juvenile games, Jean-Luc.”

Still, Picard refused to acknowledge him. He focused instead on the faint hum that seemed to permeate the space, a sound that vibrated deep in his chest. Was it the structure? Or perhaps the very fabric of the dimension? It didn’t matter. It was preferable to engaging with his captor.

A gust of wind—impossible, given the lack of doors or windows—ruffled Picard’s uniform. Q had manifested in front of him now, leaning on an invisible rail as though they were casually lounging at Ten Forward.

“You know,” Q began, adopting the conversational tone of a man discussing the weather, “most people would consider this paradise. No crew demanding your attention. No constant battles to uphold your precious Prime Directive. Some alone time, at last.” He smirked. “Isn’t that what you’ve always secretly wanted?”

Picard’s jaw clenched. The tea was a touch too hot as he finally took a sip, but he welcomed the burn. It gave him something tangible to focus on, something that wasn’t Q.

“I could have made it so much simpler,” Q continued, undeterred. “A tropical island, perhaps. Or an endless library. You mortals adore your quaint escapes. But no, I wanted to give you something... special.” He gestured broadly, as if presenting a grand masterpiece. “A sanctuary where you can finally be free of all those pesky responsibilities. No Starfleet, no Federation.” His eyes glittered. “Just us.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. Picard set his cup down with deliberate care and finally looked up. Not at Q, but at the ever-shifting walls. His voice, when it came, was low and measured, every syllable a weapon.

“This isn’t freedom, Q. This is imprisonment.”

Q’s smile faltered, just for a moment. But then it was back, tighter, more forced. “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic, Jean-Luc. I’ve given you everything you could possibly need. Food, drink, comfort—”

“Everything except my autonomy,” Picard snapped, his voice cutting through the space like a blade. He stood now, his posture rigid, his eyes blazing with the fire of a man who had faced far worse than this and survived. “You’ve taken me from my ship, my crew, my life. Do you think I’d trade all of that for—” he gestured vaguely at the surreal surroundings, “—whatever this is?”

Q’s expression darkened. “I did it for you.”

“No, Q.” Picard’s tone was ice. “You did it for yourself.”

For the first time, silence fell between them, true and unbroken. Q’s usual bravado seemed to falter as he studied Picard’s face, searching for some hint of softening, some opening he could exploit. But there was none. Only steel and resolve.

“I could leave you alone, you know,” Q said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “But we both know you’d hate that even more.”

Picard said nothing. He sat back down, picked up his tea, and turned his gaze away.

Q lingered for a moment longer, as though waiting for a reprieve that would not come. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he vanished, leaving Picard alone once more.

Or so it seemed. Picard knew better. Q was always watching.

And so, he waited. Silent, unyielding. A Captain, even in captivity.

[svnflowermoon]

this is a lot more than just the last line I'm so sorry 😭

Sirius was standing there in his christmas-themed pyjamas—matching with Remus’, of course—, with his messy curls drooping over his drowsy eyes. “Moony? What’re you doing up…?” His voice slurred slightly due to his sleepy state, “come back to bed, it’s cold.”

He slowly plodded over to the balcony’s door, stepping out onto the cold wood and gasping softly, childlike wonder taking over him. “Oh, it’s snowing! It’s snowing, Moony!” he stumbled slightly, almost falling right on top of Remus, who chuckled softly.

“Alright, Pads. Let’s get you inside, we can fully appreciate the beauty of the snow tomorrow morning, when you can stand up straight.”

Sirius let Remus lead him back to bed, and waited until the two were huddled, shivering under the covers before he spoke again. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am, what are you talking about-”

“You’re crying, Moony.”

“Oh.”

hehehe lots of angst (debating whether or not to post this bc idk if i like it or not)

i never know who to tag for writing things, so open tags <3

Last Line Tag

Thank you @thewriteflame for the tag!!

Rules: Share the last line you wrote

I'm cheating a little bit and sharing the paragraph :)

She was raised to fear nothing. She was a weapon. She was ruthless. Merciless. Valiant. She was trembling. 

Tagging (with no pressure): @berryzxx , @otpcutie , @isleofair , @gender-premium-tm , @imaginatorofthings

[inkluvs]

i asked wrong 😭

mid july - “one muse gives the other oral while they drive” with steve?

nonnie baby i’m gen so sorry this took so long i forgot i had this in my drafts </3 tw: smut (18+)

steve harrington x reader

-

Steve’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw tight as you pressed your lips against his cock. It wasn’t often he let you do this, caring too much about driving safely to let you hinder his capabilities temporarily, but, god, if he didn’t enjoy himself when you do.

Your eyes were shut as you leaned over the center console, enjoying yourself just as much as he was. Steve thought you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. Your tongue darted out to trail over a vein on the underside of him and he whined, a strangled noise as he tried to find the nearest exit.

“Stop fuckin’ teasin’ babe,” His fingers tangled themselves into your hair strands, the heel of his palm on the wheel.

“Wouldn’t wanna distract you, now, would I?” Your eyes were wide, faux-innocence coating your tone.

“I swear,” he cursed, his voice high and pretty as his hips lifted off the seat. “You’re tryin’ to kill me.”

“You tellin’ me to stop, Harrington?” You wrapped your lips around the head at that, dragging your tongue over the slit. Your hand wrapped around the base, squeezing gently when he failed to respond.

His lips parted in a silent moan, tugging slightly at your hair.

“Shit—, never.” He groaned, low and throaty.

“Gonna sleep good tonight huh, honey? All you needed was a mouth on this cock?”

“Gonna sleep,” He paused, his eyes screwing shut, “So good. Best way to go.”