#every video game i enjoy inevitably gets an au!!

[modernday-jay]

i love putting vb in different silly au’s because like. these are the same person. what the fuck. how funny is that

[keresnotceres]

MW2 CHARACTERS: School AU

[sfw] cw(s): none !!! As a girlie who has been reading fanfiction for god knows how long, it was inevitable that I came through with a High/Secondary School AU. As a reminder, I don’t know shit abt the British school system so we’re going with my experiences with the American public school system. enjoy dovies <3

Ghost is that one upperclassman in every single one of your co-grade classes that just sits there. He doesn’t say a damn word and you don’t even see him writing down any notes, but somehow, he has the best grades in the whole fucking school. Principal’s honor roll, scholarship recognization galore.

It takes so long for you to work up the courage to talk to him and ask him for help on an assignment and when he admits he doesn’t know they had an assignment to do, you’re a bit dumbfounded. You realize that he quite literally just sits there and vibes the entire time. He proceeds to turn back to the window and stare out of it.

Eventually he warms up to you, though. It takes, like, three months of pestering him until he actively begins conversations with you and you find yourself with a very stoic cheat sheet. He has kept all of his tests and is perfectly fine with just giving you them bc what are morals???

Gaz is the local “i know him but we aren’t friends” kid. Literally everybody knows his name, he’s on the school’s soccer (football, i guess) team and is relatively well known as a nice person, but he only has a few close friends. His grades are also insanely high, you don’t understand how he manages to ace every test while also spending most of his time practicing sports.

He’s the type of person to forget a pencil, however, and usually ends up leaning over to whoever is next to him and asking for one. He usually gives it back, unless it’s someone he doesn’t particularly like. When he tries to give it back to you and you just tell him to keep it, he likes you automatically.

He’s always inviting you to watch his games after the two of you get closer. He also sits with you during shared study halls or lunches regardless of if you or he has other friends in the lunch. Gaz is also the type of person to lean over and ask if you wanna share the copy of an assignment document or swap essays to proofread.

Soap is absolutely the really loud jock kid that people either really like or really hate, and there’s just no in-between (i’m so sorry Foap 😭). Despite this, he’s actually one of those really nice sport boys that will start punching if someone disrespects his friends. He’s also in an abundance of art classes.

In class you can see him scribbling down notes until he gets bored and starts just doodling in his notebook, tuning out the lecture. However, if your science teacher decides today is not a teaching day and puts on something like Bill Nye or The Magic School Bus, he is enraptured. Is also the person to quietly chant “Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill!” during the theme song. Used to hate the Amoeba Sisters until he binged their videos before his Biology final lol.

You start being friends with him on complete accident after you help him with a question on a pop quiz. He gave you puppy eyes! How could you refuse! He proceeds to talk to you the next day like the two of you are best friends and you are now stuck with him until graduation. But hey! You basically have a bodyguard now.

Price is an Honors English and AP Literature teacher through and through. He originally wanted to be a history teacher, but the English position was open and he took it with little complaint. He’s absolutely the teacher you can launch into tangents for the entire class and will take half a point off of your essays for misusing a comma.

If you're his favorite student, he tends to grade your FRQs and other assignments much harsher than he would others, but it ends with you having well rounded essay skills afterwards and acing your assignments later in the year. Will let you hang out in his room during your study halls and is always open to helping you on assignments if you ask.

Hangs thank you notes from students on his walls, has a wild collection of them and shows them off any time another teacher asks him about them. Has cried reading some from students he liked having in his classes.

Laswell is a Geometry, Pre-Calculus, and Calculus professor. Idc what u think she is absolutely a math teacher and would absolutely have a doctorate. People who don't like math probably go into her class also not liking her, but come out at the end of the year wanting to be in her class next year.

If you're one of her favorite students, she absolutely gives you little notes on your graded tests like 'good job :)' and always says she's proud of you if your grades improve during the year. She also lets you and your friends eat lunch in her room because she understands why you'd rather be in a math room than the cafeteria.

Has never been seen without a coffee during the first four periods of the day and a random beverage during the last three. She always has a drink with her and it's become a bit of a game between a few of her students. Sometimes she'll give someone who asks a drink as well. A student she particularly liked tried to pay her to bring them coffee; she gave them their money back and brought them a coffee.

Nikolai is a history teacher that also coaches the school golf team. And yes, golf team; that man radiates golf energy and I cannot be told otherwise. He doesn't understand the kids' obsession with things like Kahoot, but makes them because it keeps kids engaged with the class and mostly keeps grades up.

Being one of Nikolai's favorite students is hard if you don't golf, but if you are a favorite, he tends to give you extensions of assignments if you're struggling to find time/motivation. Also will give you candy under the table if you win a Kahoot, or if you visit him during a study hall he will also give you candy. He gives out Smarties (the American version) because he thinks the name is funny.

If you show interest in learning Russian and ask him how to roll your Rs or how to pronounce the Cyrillic letters, he will automatically like you more than the others. As long as he feels like you're earnestly learning it out of interest and not just to make him like you, that is. If you already know Russian he'll like you anyway. Sometimes it's nice to speak his native tongue.

[lieutenantfloyd]

✦Day and Night — Yuki Tsunoda✦

Dating AU (headcanons)

Pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x reader

Summary: What daily life is like in your relationship with Yuki.

Notes: This is the product of me getting distracted while writing a completely different thing for a completely different driver (more on that later). Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this! <3

Day

♫ Bad Haircut - Stephani Poetri & JVKE

Your days start slow. Mornings are full of soft cuddles and even softer kisses. When it’s finally time to greet the outside world, expect to coordinate entire outfits, or at minimum match sneakers. He’ll pick you a bouquet of wildflowers whenever he spots them, only to be left worshipping the small bug bites perpetually scattered across his knuckles whenever he’s away for a race. His love of food bleeds its way into your relationship in a myriad of ways. Whether it's him waking up early to make you breakfast in bed, catching up over lunch at a new restaurant, or taking turns being each other's sous chef whenever there’s a recipe you want to try out. When your schedules allow, you’ll travel to one of the many places you always talked about going to. At some point you’ll invest in cameras; his digital and yours analog; with the notion of capturing the beauty of the world around you. Nevertheless, you’ll return home every time with pictures of nothing but each other. If you ask him to teach you/help you improve your Japanese, he’d be over the moon. Watching your eyes light up with recognition as you start to understand his words of adoration and terms of endearment is enough to make his heart nearly burst.

Night

♫ Here With Me - D4vd

Nights with Yuki end just as soft as the days begin. You’ll complete your nightly chores before playing video games or reading. It’s all so hopelessly domestic. If he’s had a hard week, you get him to take a bath with you. You can practically see the tension slipping from his shoulders as you shower him with floral soaps and loving words of encouragement. On occasion, always when he’s in a particularly cheerful and clingy mood, he’ll pester you to share a gloriously graceless slow dance. While this usually happens at home, there have been several times he’s convinced you to dance with him in the most social of situations. No matter the location, Yuki always makes sure to mark the intro, chorus, and outro of each song with a kiss. When insomnia gets the best of you, you’ll go on late-night drives. The streets are nearly empty and he’ll always insist on driving. At some point, he’ll pull over for a midnight snack. You always pick something like chips, pizza, or sandwiches while Yuki always chooses nothing but sweets. Salty and savory foods might not be your favorite, but Yuki's bright eyes and near-blinding smile when he inevitably mentions how well you balance each other out certainly is. The best nights are when he finds himself wine drunk and overflowing with love in its most pure form. Giggling and tripping over his words as he spills every last bullet point on his list of hopes, dreams, and intentions for your future together. Introducing your families to each other. Two dogs and a cat. Fresh flowers and white linens. Home-cooked meals. Wedding vows and pastel-painted nurseries. A modest home, a gentle life.

[merakiui]

For the ask game :3

1. My favorite fic of yours

Must be clingy codependent Azul! I've read so many yandere fics but this one really made my skin crawl as Azul slowly descends into madness :0 (I do enjoy emotionally invoking stories very much :>)

10. A character/ship I didn't enjoy/think about as much before you wrote about them

Octatrio (mostly Azul, but all three of them). I simply never think much of them (if I see them irl I'd run for my life lol) but you are so creative with your ideas that you offer new perspectives for me ❤️

11. Something I wish/hope you write

Any characters that are not as regularly featured (because I love your writing and I just want to hear more thoughts on them from you, even as chitchats) but mostly Vil and Lilia my beloved 🫶

As for concepts, may I raise back otome game au 🥺 (I love to hear more of your rambles on the endless possibilities of this au)

(ask game)

:D I'm so glad you like clingy, codependent bf Azul!!!! He's so terrifying. I'm relieved those unsettling feelings could be felt because I felt so when typing it. I had actually just finished watching a true crime series when I was writing it. It frightened me to such a degree that I had to put that anxiety into writing and thus clingy, codependent bf Azul was born. <3

Thank you so much for enjoying the trio in my writings!!! I never gave them much thought in the very beginning. They've grown on me. Like pesky barnacles on a whale's back, they are forever stuck. I wouldn't have it any other way hehe.

I will definitely write more for other characters! Actually, when twst got its English release I made a tier list to show my friend how I felt about the characters. Since then, my opinions and tastes have changed. There was a category called "we can get dinner, but that's it" and I put Trey there. It's an inaccurate portrayal now because he has moved up into my favorites, as have many of the others on the list. I want to write more for Vil (starting with the omegaverse fic hehe) and I definitely want to write for Lilia more often!!!! He has a lot of potential... >:)

Aaaaa otome au my beloved!!! I would love to ramble more and brain rot on it! There are so many routes it could go. >w< I hope to make it my next big project after DRU is complete. I just love the idea of a reader who is trying to survive romance rather than fall into it. Reader tries so hard to avoid every situation that may lead to blossoming feelings, hoping to be unlikable and boring enough to avoid raising the affection meters of the main cast. But seeing as Reader is the main character, that's just impossible. orz if Reader encounters more than three romantic events in a single day, they're shuddering and thinking it's an omen for something much worse (the inevitable confession or those horribly cliché moments where they're destined to accidentally kabedon a character or fall into his chest or (worst of all) have a heartfelt, touching moment that establishes a deeper connection).

I have so many ideas for comedic interactions and jokes. I want to make a meta joke at some point in my outline, in which Idia and Reader are talking about video games and reality and Idia says, "Wouldn't it be easier if everyone had likability meters? Then you could just avoid getting caught up in useless quick-time events if you know the people around you hate you." And Reader, without missing a beat, very bluntly says, "Trust me on this. You don't want that. It sucks." On paper, the idea sounds great. In execution... ;;;;; not so much.

[hangon-silvergirl]

Both Hollywood Celebrities AU for hc game?

Ooh, I had to have a good think about this one, and I've written so much here that I may actually have to write this story because it sort of took over my brain for a spell there:

Chrissy gets her start in a teen drama show where she played a stereotype--popular girl with a heart of gold, probably a cheerleader--and has struggled against it somewhat for typecasting in her career; she's been able to move on successfully from TV to film, but it's been mostly to romantic comedies. Romcoms are a ton of fun, and Chrissy honestly really enjoys making them (she's actually really great with the physical comedy bit as well), and does well with them as a leading lady in that space, very America's Sweetheart; the media reports that getting cast opposite her is like a rite of passage for actors. She really doesn't feel like the industry takes her seriously, and wants a role that she can sink her teeth into; an opportunity to shake things up, and show the world exactly what she's capable of.

Eddie's career kicked off with him playing an iconic serial killer in a teen slasher that ended up with a massive cult-following, and he reprised the role in a couple of sequels. He ends up carving out a bit of a niche in the horror world, plus becomes a staple in comic book/video game movies, almost an inevitability like, "Oh yeah, that guy is in everything, and he always dies in like, the first 30 minutes." Eddie loves the gore and the themes and the costumes and the horror and what not, but like Chrissy he keeps putting out feelers for something more challenging, and a real leading role, where he gets real-time in the spotlight.

After delivering stellar auditions, they end up getting cast opposite one another in a Blondie biopic playing Debbie Harry and Chris Stein. There are OPINIONS about the casting, because most people don't think they're up for it, think that they don't have the chops, and think that they're gonna botch it. The widespread belief is that the movie's gonna be garbage. The director is a relatively unknown woman, and the screenplay was also written by unknown women, adapted from Harry's biography Face It; Harry herself has a writing credit and ends consulting on set. When asked about how things are going she says that she thinks 'these kids are gonna blow you all outta the water.'

Eddie and Chrissy both insist on recording their own performances for the film/soundtrack. Eddie lays the guitar tracks; Chrissy takes voice lessons to help her get the sound right.

The end result is that they both kill it. The movie is a huge commercial and critical success. It sweeps every award ceremony; takes home Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Picture nearly across the board. Eddie and Chrissy become media darlings, especially with their flirty, physical interviews. Everyone loves them, raves, etc.

And everyone asks if they're dating. There's tons of speculation, and the questions are constant. And the paps catch them out for lunch and out and about, but there's never PDA or anything physical that couldn't be attributed to them having 'developed a close friendship' on set. And neither of them ever give a straight answer about anything.

And no one really gets one until Eddie and Chrissy show up on the red carpet for the Oscars together, wearing wedding rings, and with Chrissy in a super form-fitting gown that shows off her sweet little baby bump. In their Oscar acceptance speeches they express how thankful they both are to have gotten this opportunity, not only the wonderful recognition for their roles and the film, but also for having met one another and fallen in love. Chrissy proclaims: "No more rites of passage, sorry!" and Eddie says, "Maybe they'll stop killing me in everything now, heh."

Thanks for the ask, anon! Request comes from this post: Send Me an AU & I'll Give You 5+ Headcanons About It.

[punk-pandame]

for the kank hc's anon

first i love you, second i love you, and third here's some hc's"

Canonverse

used to put on little puppet shows for baby gaara <3 started with just sock puppets and a cardboard box, but as kank got better at building and started practicing to be a puppet master shinobi, he graduated to marionettes and a little wooden performance stand.

temari claimed to hate said puppet shows but every once in a while she'd give him some spare doll clothes for the puppets that she "didn't want" for her own dolls, and he caught her watching with a smile a few too many times to keep believeing her heehee <3

middle child syndrome to the max. he has a super strong older sister and an even stronger younger brother, both of whom im assuming rasa favored. his father may not have put hits out on him "more times than he can count" (6) but he sure as fuck felt neglected!

i think he never had a canon love interest not because they didn't care enough about him to give him one, but because he doesn't need or want a partner. kankurou is cool taking his time and enjoying life on his own and if he meets someone, cool! but if not its no skin off his back, he's just out here doin what he do anyway

while i love world building and think it would be so cool if they had some sort of significance, i honestly think it'd be hilarious if his face paint designs didn't mean a damn thing. he just thinks they're cool and when he finds a pattern he likes he'll stick with it for as long as he likes it

that being said, he sometimes forgets he can just? switch it up? whenever? like he'll be painting the same shit on his face for three years, thinking to himself how much he hates this design now and wishes he could do another one, and mid-paint job realizes he can just. do that. so he scrubs it off and starts over. usually becomes an all-day affair of testing different styles until he finds one he likes enough to wear for the next few years lmfao

temari and gaara are his official face paint reviewers but he doesn't actually listen to a damn thing they say. he does not want criticism he wants emotional support pls and thnx. and it is 100% mandatory. cancel your appointments, kank is having a Crisis.

when he was younger he changed looks more frequently, and would sorta treat it as a a new-year-new-me type thing. inevitably would go too hard on trying to change his whole personality along with the new look and go back to normal in a week or two, but GOD that week or two was so trying for literally everyone around him asllahdjkgha

Modern AU

obviously he's a furry. loves the "yknow like nya?" meme and still does it, without a single care in the world for who may or may not be embarrassed of it

honestly subscribes to the "i am crazy/cringe but i am free" lifestyle he'll just do and say whatever tf XD

that being said, he really doesn't do anything that crazy. like the craziest thing about him is probably being a theatre kid. he likes performing just fine, but his real passion is in the set-building.

autism be damned, my boy sure can work a nail gun

goes SO HARD for halloween you have NO fucking idea. he's building himself a gundam suit as we speak

gamer boy! loves video games and has a sleek PC set-up. started his twitch channel for gaming but his viewers were actually way more interested in all his supplies in the back and now most of his streams are just him building stuff and talking to chat, but he'll bring back the games when he gets hyperfixated on one or a new game comes out.

special interest in animatronics. he loves them so much and will ramble for HOURS if you let him (please let him please god please let him he wants to talk about them SO bad)

[miekasa]

mie….could we please get college au eren headcanons👉🏽👈🏽

Of course. I’m always thinking about his big head anyway <33 might as well put it good use.

One thing he learned in college is how to make his hyperfocus/fixation episodes work for him; that’s why he schedules all his classes as close together as possible. He’d rather have class back to back for 5 hours, than have it spread out with hours in between lectures, because that increases his changes of cutting.

You can always tell when he’s in class and/or what class he’s in by how much he responds to your messages. If he doesn’t text back at all, he’s in a class that hard or one he enjoys, or both. But if he’s sending you iMessage games, then you know he’s in his elective that he couldn’t care else about (and is probably cheating in someway somehow lmfao). 

He usually puts his phone on dnd when he’s in a class that’s important, but you’re in his favorite contacts, so your messages always ring through. What if it’s an emergency and you need him for something? Advanced Roots of Human Biology can wait. 

Some days there are one or two our breaks between his lectures, that’s just how the scheduling works out. When that happens, he usually sneaks into one of your lectures, or goes to your place to take a nap. Your roommates have become accustomed to him, honestly they’ve been considering giving him a key. 

Once, he didn’t realize that your lecture was basically a seminar, with you, the prof and maybe six other students. He still stayed lmao, and the prof was so amazed by his dedication, that she didn’t even mind. Occasionally, you’ll catch the two of them talking after lecture. It’s pretty cute the way she’s adopted him into the class even tho he’s not on the roster. 

You... have to show him where the library is lmfao. He genuinely has not stepped foot in one until you bring him to one. He likes it tho lmao once he gets used to it. 

Speaking of which, do not give him standard directions to find your classes on campus because all you’ll get is, “Babe, I’m gonna keep it real with you, I’ve never heard of the ‘West Quad’ a day in my life. What building are you near.”

He usually comes to see you in the library after all his lectures are done for the day. Sometimes he does homework, sometimes he’s just fucking around on his computer, sometimes he’s just bothering you. When you have to leave to go to class, he stays behind to watch your stuff so you don’t have to pack everything up and come back. 

Very protective when it comes to keeping your seat for you. No, you cannot take that chair to your table you good for nothing freshman; it’s reserved for you. 

He’ll drag you out of the library if you’ve been cooped up all day, tho. Eren will use his height and his strength against you to get you up. Placates you with kisses when he sees your angry expression, and promises to buy you food.

He takes your backpack for you when you’re walking together,m. His backpack is frustratingly light all the time, even during midterms. You swear all he’s got in there is a pencil and some flashcards. 

If you have night classes, he sticks around to walk you home after, especially in the winter when it gets dark faster. If he’s not already on campus, he’ll walk/drive back to meet you; he just doesn’t like you going home alone. Even if your friend/roommate is in the class with you, Eren will walk or drive the both of you home for his own sanity. 

He plays sports, so he usually has practice most evenings, but he’ll find a way to make time. If practice was particularly brutal, he’ll probably crash at your place.

He loves it when you come to meet him after practice. His whole face lights up and he waves obnoxiously, before he gathers up his stuff and all but sprints towards you. You get a cold water bottle to the face, or a bit of water splashed on you usually, which he takes immense amusement in. 

He knows it’s not possible for you to make it to all of his games, and usually it doesn’t bother him much; you’ve got your own life, and work to worry about. All he asks is that you wear his jersey, or any item of his sports apparel/merch on game day (he’s partial to hoodies).

By the time junior year rolls around, he’s not all that interested in attending parties that aren’t hosted by your friends; so, unless it’s at Connie, Jean, or Reiner and Bertholdt’s place, Eren will usually decline. Even team parties, he’s not crazy about unless it’s to celebrate a championship or something. He’d much rather celebrate with you. 

He does get excited about hosting parties though, and he and Jean become pretty damn good co-hosts. They don’t throw ragers, and that’s probably why Eren likes it so much. It’s usually your friend group and a couple plus ones, some good music, games, weed, and take-out. 

He’ll buy you coffee whenever you ask for it. The first time, he just orders something plain, not really knowing the difference between anything; but give it two or three tries, and he’ll get it perfect. He becomes so good that he can order you something new/different and you’ll love it. 

That’s kind of the start of his own coffee addiction, and more often than not, when he buys you a cup, he’s on his second or third of the day himself. The flavor has really grown on him, okay. 

He much prefers your apartment, but on occasion, he’ll ask you to come to his. You’ve been studying for so long, a change of environment should do you good, he claims. He’s a fucking liar tho because that’s all Eren Talk for “I do genuinely want you to come over, but my plans are to coerce you out of doing your assignments and doing me instead.”

Lmfao he adds you on Apple Watch Rings just so you can see him close his rings every day and laugh at you. Even if yours get closed by virtue of walking around campus or working out or whatever, his numbers are stupidly high because he fucking has practice at least 4 days of the week. 

Of course when you’re running on a soccer field for 2 hours every day, you close your Move Ring five times, Eren. Leave the rest of us alone. 

He buys you guys matching accessories for your keychains. It’s something pretty cute, and slightly random, but it reminded him of you. It also serves as a reminder to himself to take his fucking keys with him when he leaves his house. 

He sleeps like a fucking rock, so do not let him fall asleep in the library. Waking him up is a mission, and he’s never happy to be woken up. He looks kinda cute tho. 

He schedules dates for you and his friends. Usually by accident, but hear me out. Sometimes he’ll make plans with Armin, then forget that he has class or a test or something; so his solution is to text you, “hey, i forgot min and i were supposed to go some aquarium tomorrow but i have a midterm so here’s the pdf of my ticket, go with him for me, thanks babe love u” then, boop, you and Armin have an aquarium date Friday evening. 

The same thing happens with Mikasa, though, she usually catches the scheduling conflict before Eren does, and invites you out herself. You and Mikasa hang out quite a bit anyway, so it comes to the point where she tells you when she’s gonna hang out with Eren, so you can make yourself free for when he inevitably remember he has a game that day. 

Mikasa is most amazed that you’ve put up with Eren this long lmao. You’ve certainly lessened her Eren & Armin babysitting hours, and for that she’s eternally grateful. Also, she’s just happy to have another close friend. She loves Eren and Armin, but they’re not the most social beings, and she was literally their only friend besides the other for all their childhood PLEASE she’s so happy you’re around. 

It’s Mikasa, however, who babysits you and Eren whenever you both get too drunk. Says you guys are two peas in a pod (affectionate<2)

If you tell Eren something important that happened, like an internship you got, or a good grade in a class, or something, he usually relays that information to his mom pls. He texts her every day, and if she doesn’t ask for an update on you first, he gives her one.

Carla calls you sometimes, too. At least once every few weeks, just to check on you herself. She really likes you for Eren, and is grateful someone is willing to put up with her hotheaded son. 

Eren’s always using your fucking chapstick. Always. You know he has his own, so why he needs to use yours is beyond you. Finds time to make some dumbass comment about how it’s an “indirect kiss” every time he uses it too. Like bro, we’re dating, and have had many direct kisses why are you like this.

He posts on Instagram every few weeks or so, but you’re on his story every few days. Usually, it’s just a video of you minding your business and doing your work while Eren slowly zooms in before making some loud noise to surprise you, all so he can get your reaction on video and laugh at it. He’s annoying. 

He’s a bit of a copycat when it comes to the products you use. He’ll buy the same brand of pens as you (for that matter, all of his school supplies mirror yours because what does he know about the difference between A4 and A5 notebooks?), put a little hand sanitizer on his backpack like yours (and a lotion, too, for good measure), he even copies your Starbucks order until he finds one he likes for himself. It’s one of his love languages <3

If you’re wondering where your eyelash curler went, Eren stole it to try it on himself, hurt himself, vowed to never use it again, went back because he wanted to “do it right and not give up,” liked the results when he didn’t pinch his eyelid, and now it’s his. 

That being said, stop trying to put your Fenty lipgloss on him, it’s never going to happen. Eye makeup, maybe, only if you sit in his lap and he can have his hands on your ass while you do it. 

What he does love is letting you do his skincare. He will set aside dedicated skincare nights, he adores it. Easily one of his favorite things ever. 

You have his wallet. Not because he’s your sugar daddy or anything (although, if you want something, he’d definitely let you use his card to get it; and even if you bought something without asking, he wouldn’t think twice about it), but because he put it in your bag once and never took it out. 

When you tried to give it back, he just shook his head and told you to keep it, “I have my ID in my phone case anyway, and you’re less likely to lose it. Plus I put all my cards on Apple Pay, so I’m good.”

When you do make it to a game of his, he’s all over you when it’s over. Not in a cocky athlete boyfriend kind of way; in a very sleepy boyfriend kind of way. He’s usually got ice on at least one part of his body, and he’s got half his body weight on you as you walk to the car. 

By the time you guys get back to your place, he’s practically sleep walking. The only thing on his mind is taking a hot shower to soothe his muscles, and heading to bed. The aftermath of game days aren’t all that bad though, because even if you didn’t show, you’re always there to kiss him when he’s home and massage his shoulders, and cuddle him to sleep; and that’s his favorite part. 

[enigma-absolute]

19 and 25 please!

19. If you could have a wish related to your writing come true, what would it be? (And don’t use this question to put yourself down!)

Holmes, you’re coming out SWINGING with this one.

Usually, my first thought would be ‘to finish what I start in the way it would be right for the story’ or ‘to spend a day with my OCs or the characters in my fics or AUs’. But since you said related to my writing…

It doesn’t have to be fics alone, does it?

I’d wish to meet and befriend the writing team needed to make my detective show idea come to life. In all its little intricate ways in means that I do know and don’t, fleshing out the world in ways I wouldn’t know how, all down to its inevitable and yet satisfying end of its final season (hopefully season 3 if my calculations are right).

Yeah, it’s my written idea and initial characters and so forth, but I can’t write this show alone. And with everything written, the team and I could pitch it to networks with the (hopefully) gleaming point to say ‘oh yeah, we’ve written out absolutely every episode out, here’s the guide and we’ll negotiate other means of payment for that thanks’.

(Okay that last scenario isn’t realistic and could have horrible implications in the long run but to have a team of writers to become family with for the show idea I wanna see to the end? That would be beautiful.)

25. Which of your works would you hope someone would stumble across first?

Hm, that’s also a good question.

There’s a couple of older works in my FF.net account which are unfinished and some that are. But from there, I wouldn’t mind people reading an old Winnie the Pooh self-insert reflection oneshot I wrote when I was 12 and enjoy a humble beginning.

As of the present in my ao3, ‘Red Saves’ has been a surprising small hit with the fandom I wrote it for. It’s about one of the characters playing a video game with more intensely immersive consequences than expected. I don’t mind it being the first thing some people read from me!

(It was an experiment to see what writing felt like with drafting and planning all being digital compared to my ‘draft and plan in notebooks first, transcribe and edit later’ approach normally is nowadays. There were flowing points yes, but I’ve learned since that there’s a balance which can be struck between these two approaches. I did get stuck on writing it at some point and really wanted to draft it out on paper, but I stayed to the challenge and finished it. Not to say I don’t want to edit and fix up a few points in it now, but I’m content with it being finished as is.)

As for the future, I hope it’s gonna be the aforementioned show idea, but I don’t mind if people will find Red Saves or a completed version of ‘The Eagle’s Cross’, also on ao3.

[themonotonysyndrome]

Emerald Onlooker

Part 2 of the Successors to the Future is here! I, uh, didn’t expect a lot of people liking it, but since I’m still pretty excited about this AU, I want to write as much as I can. 

Thank you again @tri3tri for inspiring us with your Second Wive AU and many, many wonderful Yandere!Malleus content. A little summary about this AU: Yandere!Malleus married and took MC against her will. He turns her into a Queen and they had 2 daughters. However, Yandere!Malleus is pushed to take on a second wife (a Fae woman, Gekkon) to give him a son, a male heir. During the wedding ceremony, MC took the opportunity and escape to NRC with her daughters in tow and Crowley finally did them a solid and send the three of them to MC’s world.

Successors to the Future, summary: Without a court of condescending Faes and Malleus’ oppressive affection, MC and her daughters live happily in the other world. When she left Twisted Wonderland, MC didn’t realise that she was pregnant and thus, she gave birth to a son who grew up as carefree as a bird and just as kind. However, now that her eldest daughter had just turned sixteen and discover her Unique Magic, she was returned to Twisted Wonderland as a first-year student in Diasomnia. Since it’s only a matter of time before Malleus and his court discover her presence at NRC, MC and her children did their best to prepare her for that inevitable day. 

This oneshot is a continuation of that. 

FD/N = First daughter’s name/Renata Draconia (half-human, half dark Fae Princess. Malleus & MC’s eldest child)

SD/N = Second daughter’s name/Sherrie or Cherry Draconia (half-human, half-dark Fae Princess. Malleus & MC’s middle child)

S/S = Son’s name/Lucien Draconia (half-human, half-dark Fae Prince and the heir to the throne. Malleus & MC’s youngest child). 

MC/S = MC’s surname

-

Sherrie enjoy going about her daily lives on her lowest brain capacity most of the time. There’s nothing like just... switching off your brain and ignore all the boring things around you.  

The only thing that gets the gears and cogs in her brain spinning is when she plays video games like Portal or coming up with schemes to get her eldest sister out of trouble. 

When she jokes about only having 2 braincells and that both are constantly on holidays at the same time unless Renata did something stupid, Renata howl with laughter while Lucien just rolled his eyes at his cackling sisters. 

But now that Renata is playing student in Night Raven College, Sherrie is surprised to find herself looking forward to not only help her oldest sister dodged their father’s steps, but also pulling the proverbial rug underneath the Thorn Kingdom. 

Especially Lilia Vanrouge. 

It’s addicting. The unholy glee running within you when your cute puppets finally realised who’s been tugging on their strings all along. 

Humans are easy and oblivious enough for her to practise on. Despite how monotonous school can be, the environment was a good place for Sherrie to learn and play. Everyone has a chip on their shoulder; everyone wants to stand out among the rest. 

So it’s really not that hard to learn who’s the right person to blackmail, who’s desperate enough to do anything to make their crush look at them and how to make the key figures dance on the palm of her hands. 

This year’s prom night was certainly a memory she won’t ever forget. 

And now? Now Sherrie can’t wait to play with the so-called ‘superior’ species - their father’s ancient court and loyal retainers - once she and her sister could establish contact. 

They’ve been working hard on this little project. Everyone in her little family is. Renata is off being a good little student and let the gossips travel on its own, their little brother is doing his best to assured their mother that all would be well and Sherrie?

Sherrie is busy setting up the stage for the climax once Renata usher all the important players to where she wanted them. 

(Mama likes to call her a ‘smart cookie’, always rubbed her head affectionately and said, “You’re a brilliant girl, Cherry. You’re just lazy. I know you can achive anything you want with the proper motivation, just like Floyd-senpai.”.) 

(Their Mama can never know just how far her daughter had use the same skill that she praise to manipulate others.) 

In the middle of the evening - just shy after midnight -  Sherrie heard a water drip somewhere in her bedroom. 

Drip... drip... drip... 

She pushes her chair away from her gaming laptop, game paused and just listen. Her eyes scan the dimly lit bedroom. 

Drip... drip... 

“This better not be the start of a horror movie.” 

It’s coming from... somewhere near her vanity table. Sherrie ignores the clutter of make-ups, perfumes and figurines on the table and waited eagerly. Her leg couldn’t stop bouncing when the surface ripple like water’s surface once. 

The ripple clears and instead of staring at her reflection, her oldest sister stares right back at her. 

“It works!” Renata said incredulously. “I can’t believe the headmaster’s half-assed runes actually works!” 

“The fuck? What happened?” Sherrie reply, a bit taken back. Behind her sister, Sherrie could see a bed, study table and walls and other furnishing that eerily looks similar to the ones back at the castle. 

Renata waved her hand in a dismissive manner. “I had to literally bullied a grown ass man to help me contact you. It took me a week of camping in the library to figured out how, but we managed to come up with runes that allow us to create a link to every mirror in the house.” She explains in an exasperated tone. “I’ll teach you the drawing tomorrow. All you guys need to do is just draw them on any mirror and it’ll send me a signal to find a mirror of my own.” 

“That kinda sounds like a phone call. Like, an interdimensional phone call!” 

“I know right! I already put a compact mirror in my purse so I can call you anytime!” Renata said with a smug grin. She’s clearly proud of her clever little trick. Even with the help of the headmaster. 

Sherrie never doubted that her sister couldn’t find a way to contact them. She’s a prodigy when it comes to magic. 

She might be young, but she could still remember how their tutors gave out praises as if they were candies when it comes to her older sister and her affinity for magic. 

It’s just too bad that their compliments are worthless when they always ended with, “If only the Princess is a full born Fae...” 

“Ok, so, contact established. Now are you still in Phase 1?” Sherrie said, bringing their conversation back to important matters. She made sure to properly and slowly explain their game plan a week before the Ebony Carriage took Renata to Night Raven College. The words are clearly written, highlighted colourfully and important steps are accompanied by cartoon stickers. 

Despite being a prodigy at magic, her sister woefully has short attention span when it comes to playing the long game. Her attention spans burn hot and fast, just like her anger. It also burns out just as quick as it came. 

Renata rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “Yes, yes. I’m still in Phase 1. It’s hard to make friends when everyone is wary of you. Do you know they hung up portraits of past Dorm Leaders and their Vice Dorm Leaders in each dorm? It’s so annoying when everyone stares at me and at father’s portrait whenever I walk into Disomnia!” 

Sherrie hums and made a quick dash to grab her tablet. The one where she wrote down her plans. She swipes the screen to the list of names that their mother had given them. 

“They’re just NPCs, don’t worry about them. What you need to focus on are the students with the surnames that Mama gave us.” Here, Sherrie is tapping on the screen of her tablet to the mirror. “Have you met any of them or did you fucked up the plan already?” 

“Calm your tits, I’ve been following your instructions.” Renata assured her, not the least riled up. “We’re only in the first semester; I only managed to match the names and faces of my dorm mates so far. It’s gonna take me at least a month of snooping around before I could find them.” Renata paused and her eyes suddenly lit up as if she just remembered something. “Oh, but I’ve been farming intel of the Thorn Kingdom using the Lucky Leanan spell every day after curfew. It took some trial and error but I successfully managed to find the castle again!”

Sherrie recalls that one of Renata spells - Lucky Leanan - creates a small fairy made out of pure magic that would do sneak attacks by shooting lightning bolts while Renata fights. It’s small enough to flit behind an opponent’s line of sight and take them off guard. 

Small enough to sneak into the castle without anyone none the wiser. 

So Sherrie nodded. “That’s a good move. You’re safely far away from the castle and you can remotely dispel Leanan if it gets dicey.” 

“Yup! Look at my one braincell go!” Renata cheered. “If I keep this up and give it plenty of water and sunlight, maybe it’ll grow!” 

Sherrie burst out laughing alongside her sister. Her joke took her off guard. Hopefully their laughter didn’t wake up their mother and Lucien. 

Sherrie hiccups and wipe the tears from the corner of her eye. It feels nice to talk to her sister again.  

She misses her disaster of sister already. 

“Anyway, I need to hit the bed soon.” Renata said, breaking her train of thought. “I’ll do my best to gather as much info as I can about the ongoings inside the castle for you. Are there any heads up you want me to look for?” 

Sherrie smiles brightly and reply, “Of course! If you could, be a dear and get everything about father’s... other wife. Everything - right down to the most boring shits.”

“On it.” 

-

That first-year Diasomnia student has been the talk around campus for weeks now. 

Not only is she the only girl in Night Raven College, word on the streets quickly spreads that she’s look too similar to one of the previous Dorm Leader of Diasomnia to not be related. 

Staring at her while she’s busy taking a selfie of the Great Seven statues, he agrees that the similarities are too uncanny. 

Now, why would he sends his own Princess to a villain school without any retainer? 

That, and why under a different surname? 

Something’s not right. 

Renata MC/S brought with her an interesting mystery to Night Raven College. A mystery that caught his interest at the first whiff of her scent. And oh Great Seven, her delectable scent. The first time his nose caught that mouthwatering smell, it had his tail swishing in eager and his head spinning. 

It’s the scent of his favourite flower - blood lily - with a hint of something... otherworldly. He still can’t quite put words into it. 

He wants to unravel her. Understand what makes her tick. 

Uncover what she’s hiding. 

Four days later in History class, Professor Trein gave him - and Renata - their golden ticket. 

“Kingscholar, MC/S - you two will be partners for this assignment. I expect you two have no objection.” 

“It’s fine...” 

“I don’t have a problem with the arrangement, professor.” 

The professor nodded and class is dimiss. Students began making their way out of the room. Except for him... and her. 

Renata steps in front of his desk when they finally have the class all to themselves. He takes a good, long look at her. 

She’s certainly beautiful; a real heartbreaker. But there’s something interesting within her bright green eyes. Something volatile. He wonders what could it really be. 

“Hi there. So you’re Bakari Kingscholar, hmm? Hope we can ace this assignment without any problem.” Renata said with a small smile. Is she trying to be friendly? Because it just looks condescending as hell. 

But that just makes this a lot more fun. 

“Same here. Girl or not, I won’t let it slide if you prove to be a dead weight.” 

His warning clearly took her off guard with the how her smile froze. It was only for a moment though, before she let out a laugh. As if he just told a funny joke. 

“Kitty-cat is flexing his claws, huh?” Renata had the audacity to grin. The other Savanaclaw students would’ve lowered their heads at his tone. “Don’t worry. Do your part and I promise I won’t light your tail on fire.” 

Oh, his old man needs to know about this girl. 

-

You have no idea how much fun it is to write about Malleus and MC’s children! Especially the Princessess. Unfortunately, they’re more like Malleus than they or MC even realise it. Anyway, my main reference for SD/N is none other than... TADA! Fyodor Dostoevsky from BSD!

It’s just that Sherrie is a lot more lazy and rather keep to herself and stay at home. She only goes out of her to way to mess with people because of Renata and her tendecies to get into trouble.  

I’m still thinking on the draft for part 3 so we’ll see how that goes. Also, I was struggling wether to name Leona’s son or not. I think that honoured should go to @tri3tri​! 

[jauneda1]

RWBY

The New War AU

"Author's note" This Au is a little different from the original RWBY adaptation, with slight character changes, and well War.

After Initiation and team selection

Jaune has already slipped away into the background in order to get away from everything going on in the ballroom. He soon finds himself writing in his notepad while silently thinking out new moves and ways to improve his swordsmanship. "I got nicked more times then I wanted during initiation. So much happened I tried to hide my true strength but that beowolf knocked my sword away I had no choice but to engage in hand to hand thank you dad for make the shield sharp around the edges and point. Atleast Yang is okay. I saw her get tossed by that deathstalker. Wait why am I worried about her she can handle it " Jaune let in a breath and then continued to walk around campus. Sooner or later he was going to have to face his team. He knew he wasn't ready for that also giving that he was the leader. " Man I can't believe I'm the leader of my own team, big sis owes me an apology. Saying I would never make team leader. Ricky would have made team leader."

Jaune had made his way back to the dorm room. Greeting his new team, he learned that outside of Pyrrha his other two teammates where pretty chill. Lie Ren being some sort of ninja or something close to it. Nora being bubbliey but lade back."Funny I was expecting the two of them to be completely different people but they act the same. Nora is like one of my little sister's." Pyrrha spoke up greeting Jaune and him to her even though they become partners in the forest they really didn't say much. Well Jaune didn't say much. When they crossed paths it was simple she saved him, he saved her round and round it goes. " Sorry if I came off distancing while in initiation. I was just focused on getting a high scoring." Pyrrha spoke to him and said oh no it's fine she had just hoped she hadn't rubbed him the wrong way.

After a few greetings a knock had came from the door. It was team RWBY who where they're neighbor's to Jaune's dismay. It wasn't really the fact of they're team but it's brawler. Yang Xiao long was one of Jaune's childhood bullies/crush she used to tell me to be a man back when we where in elementary. Then as we got older she would pick at my hight I used to pick at her boobs being huge and how they could be saggy if they get any bigger. But we've grown closer over the years. Her jokes and puns are funny too.

Group had a little get together party with Yang and Jaune sharing stories about the other from when they went to signal. Ruby would chime in to keep the two from fighting. Since there's a rivalry between the two. No one understood why till Jaune spoke. "It started on the first day at signal it was combat class and Yang underestimated me and got thrown out of the ring. This was before my father entrusted the family sword and shield to me so I would occasionally use boxing and simple judo, and jujitsu fighting style's." What Jaune didn't tell everyone was he has an intermediate almost advanced knowledge in Wing Chun fighting style. This is after he picked up the family sword he always made sure that if he were to every lose his sword in battle he would need a way to beat any and all enemy types. From Grimm to thugs and even other huntsman. Since so many have gone rogue his father thought it was necessary.

"Yang rushed me and it cost her a bump and a bruise when I grabbed her arm and used her momentum to throw her over my shoulder and into the ring out." Yang then spoke up and she had venomous spite in her voice. "Jaune now you know our combat class was always first to three. I beat you two times after that." Jaune spoke up now a bit agitated at the blonde beauty in front of him. " And yet I still beat you in the long run. Or did you forget that after all this this time?"

Ruby finally got in-between the two because they looked like they where gonna go at it again.

"Jeez you two are always like this, just hurry up and get back together already. You both know it's inevitable." Everyone in the room besides the three of them were shocked and surprised to say the least. Ruby finally explained while the two blondes turned they're heads away out of embarrassment. "It's been like this for about 3 years. During a house party they feuded with each other till Jaune had said something to her which made both of them leave the party together. The next thing people knew was that the Dragon and the White knight of Signal were dating."

Weiss spoke up. "Wait wait wait... You two are the Dragon and white knight of Signal academy? Do you two have any idea how well known you two are.?" Both Yang and Jaune looked at each other then back at Weiss not knowing what she was talking about. "Look at every pre-huntsman school they're are 5 students who are picked and given nicknames so that Huntsman Academies would know who to scout out in initiation. To get put in this top 5 you literally have to beat out everyone else in your school both academically and physically in training."

Blake have spoke up just to see if she understood what was being said. "So basically what your saying is that Yang and Jaune are in a league of their own?" Ruby then explained fully to Blake. "Well to be fair Me, Jaune, Yang, and Pyrrha. Are in the same level cap in a way of saying." Nora spoke up saying "oh so like a video game." With Ren saying "In a sense yes it is." Pyrrha took everything that everyone was saying and informed them that. "This is how Beacon has always done there team make ups. With two high grade fighters being budded up. The Initiation is held with an even amount of high grade students and low grade students. If by any chance r high grades come together they are split up. So for our team JNPR, Jaune and Myself are the high grades, and from what I gathered in skill wise from earlier Yang and Ruby are team RWBY'S high grades."

After everything was said the group noticed that Jaune and Yang weren't even there. Ren informed them that they left a while ago. Ruby said "Well this is normal they're always ditching lectures and class together, regardless if there together together or not."

On the roof our blondes were sitting with there leg's over the edge and leaning on each other, Yang spoke up. "Your not as talkative as much as you used to be."

Jaune responded with a low mutter which caused Yang to look more his way in hopes of getting a better response out of him. He finally succumbed to his feelings and brought up stone they were together. "Remember that time you told me it wasn't my fault."

Yang knew what was coming and was preparing to comfort her friend, the one and only man she loved.

"Ricky's death was my fault and always will be my fault and you getting hurt the way you did back then was." Jaune was cut off when Yang had pulled him into an embrace pulling him and herself away from the edge of the building. "Jaune..." Yang noticed the tears that are flowing down his face and she hated seeing him like this. It would hurt her more when she couldn't stop those tears. "Yang I know what your gonna say and ask. And yes the past year of me training and getting ready for this moment in my life. I've done nothing but think about how Ricky deserved to be here aswell that this was his dream school and all because I wanted to rush to get stronger H-h- ... He died saving me from my stupidity." Yang held him comforting him. Little did most people know was that Jaune may come off as a strong individual but he is very mentally weak with his life constantly pushing his mind to a break and collapse. Yang has always been there to keep that from happening. She has looked out and after him like he was a little brother and she started dating to do this more but also because she truly cares for him.

Jaune stopped his talking and embraced Yang back. "I'm sorry Yang I've just been lost in thought for so long that I've forgotten." "Jaune that's why I'm here to crack jokes and be by your side" Jaune thanked his fellow blonde with a kiss which was reciprocated. It wasn't long but it was enough to start a fire in the dragon as she pulled him down and got on top of him.

"So does this mean where together-together again or just a friend's with benefits thing."

"You tell me you kissed me first?"

The two began to embrace each other on the roof while secretly they where being watched by ember yellow eyes. "Huh they're bond is way deeper then Ruby told us."

That's a wrap part 2 should be out by tomorrow hopefully.

Hope you all have enjoyed

[qqueenofhades]

i noticed that you like to write a lot of heartrender husbands from fedyor’s side of things (which makes sense cause fedyor is fun!) but i have to ask in the modern au, what was ivan thinking the whole first two months 😂??

like was he carrying the joke the whole time? did his brain short circuit around fedyor?? was he worried about what fedyor was thinking or did he just think he was shy? Did he think the first date went well ☠️?

This was supposed to be lighthearted, but then there came Feels. So here is Ivan's backstory in Phantomverse. Content warning for mentions of an abusive relationship, familial homophobia, implied sexual manipulation, and dark themes. Nothing graphic, but duly noted.

Also on AO3.

Brighton Beach, 2015

It’s safe to say that Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov Kaminsky did not ever, not in a thousand years, not in a million, imagine himself ending up here. At one point, even Moscow would have been a stretch, and that was obviously still Russia. The fact that he would be walking down a sidewalk in Brooklyn, under the elevated tracks of the Q train that rattles and bangs overhead, on a cool spring morning to do his shopping at the Brighton Bazaar – in, should this somehow not be clear, America – and then returning to his apartment and his husband is, quite frankly, something out of an alternate-Ivan timeline. One from the Twilight Zone, or whatever they are calling that kind of thing these days. Sometimes when he thinks about it too much, he gets afraid that it is in fact a dream. That no matter how long it has gone on and how good it has been, it will suddenly and inevitably end. After all, he is Russian. Sunny optimism has never been accused of forming a notable facet of the national character, and Ivan himself would never be described as the hopeful type. But God, for this, he does.

He reaches the bazaar – a bustling blue-awninged international supermarket with three-quarters of its signs written in Cyrillic – and steps inside, grabbing a basket and pulling a scrap of paper from his pocket to double-check his list. He knows what he needs, but he likes the tidiness of writing it down, and he proceeds into the crammed aisles, passing customers speaking English, Russian, Ukrainian, Uzbek, Yiddish, and several other languages he can’t identify by ear. Brighton Bazaar stocks all the Russian products necessary to satisfy even a homesick expat like Ivan, and he enjoys being able to navigate the store with ease and read all the labels at first glance. He can get by in English, if he’s pressed, but it’s easier to leave it to Fedyor, who is fluent, and in here, he can conjure the illusion that he will walk out on the street and be back where he truly belongs. He likes Brighton Beach a great deal more than he ever expected to, but it’s no replacement for the real thing.

Ivan collects his purchases, along with a few special extras, and takes them to the counter. He is greeted in Russian by the checkout clerk, who knows him well for always turning up at the same time every Saturday morning with military precision. As Semyon Pavlovich Kuznetsov (who is called Syoma by his friends, but he has not clearly stated that Ivan can use the diminutive and therefore Ivan does not) scans his items, Ivan consents to exchange a few gruff words of small talk on the weather (nice) how the Mets did last night (badly) and the old guy who apparently died of a heart attack two days ago in the Russian bathhouse on Neck Road (making Ivan glad he did not choose said day to attend). It’s this weird Russian-American hybrid of things, since Semyon is the teenage grandson of a Red Army veteran who fought at Stalingrad, but he was born and raised in Brooklyn, loves American video games, and is fully fluent in American pop culture. It startles Ivan to realize that while this kid speaks Russian perfectly, he has probably never done so in Russia outside of a few visits back to the old country when his family can afford it. That is a very personal question to ask one’s grocery clerk, however, and he does not.

And then there’s that other thing, which he would definitely never be asked in Russia, especially not these days. Semyon hits the button to tally up Ivan’s bill, informs him that he owes $56.77, and then says cheerily, “How is Fedyor?”

Ivan concentrates on digging the exact amount out of his wallet in cash, since he never had a credit card when he lived in Russia and is still somewhat leery of them. “Fedyor is fine,” he says curtly, in the tone that makes it clear that he understands this question is an expected part of an American social interaction, but that is all the information he is willing to venture. “Here is the money.”

Semyon accepts it, counts it into the till, and rings the transaction through, handing Ivan his bags and his receipt. “Have a nice day, Mr. Kaminsky!”

“Thank you, Semyon Pavlovich.” Ivan accepts his purchases and leaves the store, taking a deep breath of the salty, sunny air and the wind whipping off the seafront. It’s still a little too early in the year for there to be many bathers on the beach, though there are always people strolling on the boardwalk. It’s only a few minutes to the apartment, which is just off Brighton Beach Avenue and overlooks the Atlantic Ocean. Ivan buzzes into the old brownstone, takes the stairs to the third floor, and as he unlocks his front door and lets himself in, wonders, yet again, at the sheer impossibility that his life has led him here.

Ivan is the third of five boys, but he was the one who was named after his father. It was not, of course, because they had some special hope for him to be the great inheritor of paternal pride, but a simple matter of logistics. His oldest brother, Roman, was named after their paternal grandfather. His second-oldest brother, Oleg, was named after their maternal grandfather. When Ivan arrived, only then was it proper to name him after Ivan Romanovich, Ivan Sakharov senior, since rushing too fast to glorify yourself as an individual, rather than your community and your ancestors, could be seen as running contrary to the collectivist ideals of the great Soviet Union. By the time his two younger brothers arrived, his parents were hard pressed for ideas; Yuri (for Gagarin) and Vladimir (originally for Lenin, though that has obviously acquired a different connotation those days) were clearly obtained by putting the names of national heroes into a hat and picking.

Five children was quite a lot for a Soviet-generation family, and Ivan doesn’t know anyone else his age with that number of siblings. After all, more children meant more time standing in line at Municipal Grocery Store #5 for food that has to be shared among more mouths, more worries about how to clothe and educate and accommodate them, more chances for one of them to go terminally astray and betray the family honor. Ivan wonders sometimes if his parents only really wanted Roman and Oleg, but decided to keep going as a matter of gaming the system, so much as it was able to be gamed.

By the early 1980s, the aging, decrepit, dying USSR, run by aging, decrepit, dying men, was in the grip of a demographic crisis so extreme that it was a contest between worrying about which one would end them faster: crazy President Reagan with his finger on the nuclear button, or the whole country just keeling over of old age. The idea of what a family even meant had been under constant challenge since the heady days of the Bolsheviks, who denounced marriage as a construct of bourgeoisie oppression and preached for free love and sexual liberation. Then it went hard back in the other direction during Stalin and the Great Patriotic War, holding up the traditional nuclear family as the highest ideal and offering rewards to mothers who had multiple children. Then it lurched away again. Abortion and contraception had been legal and freely available since the days of the revolution and most Soviet women made good use of them. Plus, of course, the obvious difficulties of maintaining a sizeable family when it was increasingly impossible to obtain even basic supplies and foodstuffs. It just made no sense.

Desperately trying to counter this slide toward self-inflicted obsolescence, the late-stage USSR came up with a number of incentives to boost the birth rate by any means necessary. They allowed mothers to refuse to list fathers on the birth certificate, to avoid social shame if he was married, foreign, a drunkard, or otherwise unsuitable, and beefed up programs to support single women with children. They also went back to the old-school plan of granting extra stipends, housing privileges, and state recognition to families that had more than two children, and Ivan himself was the third of his. It doesn’t take a genius to deduce that he was almost surely conceived for the tax benefits.

Not, that is, that it didn’t work. When Ivan was born in 1984, the family lived in a tiny apartment on the tenth floor of a building with no elevator (or rather it did have an elevator, but it was always broken), crowded in with three single young men who were at the very bottom of the list for being assigned housing. By the time his youngest brother, Vladimir, was born in 1987, they had been moved to a small house of their own on the outskirts of Krasnoyarsk, not far from the bus that his father took two hours a day out to the mine. The cynical old joke in the USSR was that the people pretended to work and the government pretended to pay them, though in Ivan Romanovich’s case, the work was backbreakingly real, even if the money wasn’t. He would come home exhausted and filthy after a sixteen-hour shift and yell at Galina Sakharova to feed him, bark at his sons, and then fall asleep in front of the television, only to get up the next morning and shuffle off again.

Ivan Ivanovich has spent a lot of time after he left home trying to understand what that kind of life would do to a man, mostly because he didn’t do it while he was there. Of course he didn’t. He was a child, and it was simply what he was used to, the only way the world could possibly be. On the night of December 26, 1991, as Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev signed the United Soviet Socialist Republics out of existence with a single stroke of the pen, Ivan remembers his father crying and swearing and throwing things at the wall, the heavy yellow-glass ashtray that always seemed unbreakable, perched on the kitchen table to collect the detritus of his constant cigarettes, smashed to bits just like their country, their sense of self, their security. It wasn’t as if life in the USSR was so wonderful. It was just the only thing they knew. Beyond that, there was nothing but the terror of the utterly unknown.

At any rate, the world didn’t end. The oligarchs moved in and began snapping up Russia’s newly privatized economy. Ivan Ivanovich, of course, had no goddamn clue about this either, aside from overhearing his father curse about it some more. He trudged through secondary school and left at eighteen, without even trying to proceed onto university. Those weren’t for someone like him, he knew that. Instead he got a job at the ever-troubled Krasnoyarsk Aluminum Plant, and went straight to work on the factory floor.

It was around this time that the one disruption in his otherwise humdrum life, the one thing that stopped him from just settling into the same miserable existence as his father and going on like that forever, became too impossible to ignore. And that was the fact that no matter how much Ivan tried to squash it down, push it aside, or otherwise pretend it didn’t exist, he could no longer deny the fact that he was attracted to men, and only to men. He bought some of the cheap porn magazines from the tabak, tried to flip through them and get something out of the girls in heavy eyeliner and bleached-blonde hair, spilling out of their scanty lingerie, and just… didn’t. He wasn’t even interested enough to try a conversation with a real flesh-and-blood woman (not that Ivan had ever gotten through a conversation with another human being, especially a woman, without disaster) and see if it was different in the flesh. Nothing about the experience, even imagining it, appealed to him at all. But men…

He knew it wasn’t right, just because – well, you knew that sort of thing, you didn’t have to ask about it, you didn’t let on. But nonetheless, something, somehow, must have given him away, because one evening after the end of his shift, one of his coworkers cornered him in the back. His name was Konstantin and he was a few years older, big and bluff and constantly smelling like machine oil. He stood there, folded his arms, and said, “I will give you five hundred rubles if you suck my dick, Ivan Ivanovich.”

Ivan didn’t know how to answer. He had never spoken to Konstantin about anything aside from the job. He didn’t like him, he wasn’t attracted to him, and he didn’t want his filthy fucking rubles. He wanted to go home and take a shower.

And yet. He wanted to know. So when he went home, it was with five hundred rubles in his pocket, and a strange, indefinable feeling of something both excitement and shame. He looked it up later and found that it was barely seven American dollars, barely enough to buy a sandwich in this place he now lives. Then after that it became – not a relationship, not exactly. But he had done it once and Konstantin knew that he was at least theoretically willing, and there was no getting away from it now. Soon enough it became something of a regular thing, and then Konstantin wanted to try other stuff and not always pay, and if Ivan ever protested, Konstantin would threaten to get him fired from the factory or tell his family what they were doing. Ivan knew that he couldn’t let this happen, and besides, this was a relationship, or so he would tell himself. It was rough and it wasn’t very enjoyable and he didn’t like the way it made him feel, but it was probably the best he was going to get, here in this place, so he had no choice but to put up with it.

Until one night when his older brother came to pick him up from work, which he didn’t usually do. Something about it set off Ivan’s alarm bells, but he got into Roman’s battered old Zhiguli anyway. They didn’t head back toward the house. Instead they headed for the country, the narrow, crumbling road that led into the vast forests of Krasnoyarsk Krai. The city was often voted one of the most beautiful in Siberia, surviving even its long periods of grim industrialization with something of its soul intact. It wasn’t as cold as Yakutsk or Oymyakon, the places where it stayed at sixty below zero all winter long and boiling water froze when you tossed it out the window. Winters only got down to a few degrees below, and in Russia, that was par for the course. Ivan loved his hometown, and he was used to the outdoors. He was a sportsman, a natural athlete. He played hockey, bandy, football, rugby, and basketball (surprisingly popular in Russia). He swam and boxed. He was tall and tough and muscled and most people never bothered him. But when the car coasted to a halt in the middle of nowhere and Roman turned off the headlights, he was still terrified.

His brother said, “I hear you’re doing things, Vanya.”

Ivan didn’t answer.

“I hear you’re doing things with men.” Roman reached over and grabbed him violently by the shoulders, pinning him against the seat. “Disgusting things. I will not have one of those in the family, do you hear me? Do you hear me? If I find out that you have done it ever again, even once, I will make sure that you pay the price. Are you listening? Say that you understand.”

“Yes,” Ivan said. “I understand.”

What he really understood was that he was going to leave, when he had barely been out of Krasnoyarsk Krai in his life. Going as far as Novosibirsk for a shopping trip was unusual, and once, in school, he went to Georgia, which was the first time he had left the country (though of course, it used to be the country). But he knew that he could not stay here anymore, and in a moment of welcome serendipity, that was also when his conscription notice arrived. At the time, every Russian man over the age of eighteen had to serve two obligatory years in the armed forces (though it has since been lowered to one, of which Ivan does not necessarily approve), and his number had come up. So he quit his job, did not say goodbye to Konstantin or tell him where he was going, packed his few boxes of things, and moved four thousand kilometers and four time zones west to Moscow.

Ivan arrived in the capital trying not to present himself as a wet-behind-the-ears country boy, to act like he knew what he was doing, to show he was much tougher and meaner than any of these spoiled, pampered little children whining about how hard it was when they trudged into headquarters and presented their army notices. In that, he had a genuine advantage; he had worked hard for his whole life, he had already been through whatever could possibly endured with a father and four brothers, and he found the strict routines, harsh discipline, and predictable tasks of the army comforting. Everyone was scared of him, he didn’t need to try (though he did), and that was also gratifying. He worked hard and pleased his commanders, who tried to entice him to stay on as a full-time professional serviceman. There were many opportunities for a man of his talents, and more money than Ivan had ever dreamed of. As for his personal life, as long as he was scrupulously discreet and kept turning in good results, they would not trouble to enquire too closely. That was already better than from what he had expected with Konstantin. Once again, he thought it would be the best he got.

That was where, therefore, he met Aleksander Ilyich Morozov.

Morozov was his opposite in many ways – rich, well-spoken, well-educated, the son of a legendary KGB commander and the inheritor of comfort and privilege even in the lean last days of the USSR. He was about Ivan’s own age, but he had a self-possession and a gravitas that made him seem older. He had started training for a career in the Russian security services practically from childhood, and he had pegged Ivan as a particularly promising recruit. “You should come with me,” he said. “We would find an excellent career for you.”

Ivan was never sure how to respond when Morozov started talking like this. He admired the man and was admittedly attracted to him – not just the dark, elegant handsomeness, but the manifest air of being a person who mattered, who made the rest of the world sit up and take notice and play by his rules – and while he knew that Morozov was ruthless, he wasn’t bothered by that and was willing to do the same when it was called for. Ivan didn’t see the world as some nice candy fairy place where good deeds were always rewarded and violence was always wrong, not least since he knew full well that it didn’t work like that. He didn’t have time for these idiots who thought they would get out there and hold hands and change the world with the power of sunshine and kisses or whatever it was. He didn’t.

Then there was one night when Morozov was at Ivan’s apartment, and they had been drinking and making big plans for ruling the world behind the scenes, and Ivan forgot himself entirely and leaned over the table and kissed him. He tried to pull back almost at once, but Morozov didn’t resist. In fact, he leaned in and put a hand behind Ivan’s head and kept him there, and in that moment, Ivan knew that while this might not be personally objectionable for Sasha (his sexuality was undiscussed but evidently fluid), that wasn’t the reason he was going along with it. It was because he knew instinctively that it was a perfect way to control Ivan, to harness his attraction and his weakness and his willingness to go along with whatever Sasha wanted, and in that, despite all the big plans they had put together and the way Ivan had dreamed of his life changing, it was just Konstantin all over again, and Ivan was straight back at the factory on his knees, small and cornered and powerless. It was visceral and it was wrong and it wasn’t the best he would ever do and he wasn’t, he wasn’t taking that.

They pulled back and Sasha made an enquiring noise, like he wanted to know if Ivan was interested in sealing the deal, and instead Ivan ordered him to leave right now, get out. That was the end of their friendship; they never spoke to each other again, and when his third year in the army ran out, which he had already taken voluntarily, he left. He got a job at some Moscow industrial plant and it was there, through the friend of a friend, he met Nadia Zhabina. And it turned out that she was queer (the first time he had ever heard the word spoken in a good way, something he wanted to be, something he didn’t mind accepting, rather than as an attack), and it turned out after that that she had a friend she wanted him to meet, only it clearly meant that she thought they should go out. Like. On a date.

Ivan flatly shut her down. He did not date, he did not want to date, he did not think he would be good at dating, he did not want to meet some pansy city boy from Nizhny Novgorod who he would immediately dislike, and he was not going to do it, the end. Only Nadia really seemed disappointed, and maybe it was not the worst thing to try a little. This would backfire terribly, he would get over it, and move on with his life.

In Ivan’s opinion, the first date with Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky was, at least on his own behalf, a modest success. He was unavoidably late, thanks to the bus running behind schedule, but he introduced himself, his hobbies, and made it clear what sort of person he was and what he was interested in. He even sent a polite follow-up text with an invitation to meet again. There. No questions, no confusion, everything very straightforward and clear. Nothing to complain about. That was how you did a date, yes?

It turned out, however, that Fedyor Mikhailovich was either very reticent, or perhaps confused, or maybe he did not even know that they had been on a date and Nadia had not clearly explained to him. Burned by his experiences at home, knowing how easily word could get out to the wrong people, Ivan did not want to bring up the subject explicitly, but he had to admit to a considerable confusion. Maybe Fedyor actually liked to just mince around Moscow city parks together, like something out of a Tolstoy novel, or to sit on his couch and watch bad American action movies together. (Later, Ivan learned that Die Hard is actually something of a cult classic, but it’s still slightly lost on him.) That wasn’t bad, because Ivan – to his great bafflement and wariness – liked spending time with him. Fedyor wasn’t like him at all, but they clicked nonetheless. He was the exact kind of idealistic activist that Ivan had long disdained, but it was different with him. When Fedya talked, he liked to listen, to dream about a world that really did work that way. It didn’t, but it felt closer.

Besides that, he was cute. He was well-put together. He was charming and vivacious and could talk to people that they met, while Ivan stood scowling with his hands in his pockets and wondered how long this was going to take. He really desperately wanted to kiss Fedya (and for that matter, do other things to him), and he found himself thinking about it a lot. But what if it was like with Sasha again, and it was either Ivan opportunistically taking it for himself, or Fedya selfishly trying to keep him there, to use him for his own purposes? Maybe Fedya was the idiot. He had to know they were together, right? Or were they together? Ivan suddenly wasn’t sure. Damn it! Why didn’t Fedyor subscribe to the school of just being clear about things? Ivan himself had nothing to do with the problem.

But then there came that night, and Fedya cooking dinner and stumbling through trying to ask him if they were maybe something, and in that moment, Ivan found it all so hilarious that the only thing he could do was sit there and let the whole thing play out. Then it turned out, of course, that they were together, and that Fedyor kissed him just as deliciously as Ivan had imagined, and maybe Nadia Zhabina was not so wrong after all.

Maybe she was not wrong in the least.

Ivan takes his supermarket bags to the sunny kitchen of the mostly-remodeled apartment and sets them down. Fedya has picked out all the colors and wallpapers and furniture and paint, and Ivan has done most of the work, since he is gainfully employed as a handyman and repair-person and he doesn’t want to pay some American to half-ass a job that he can do better. The apartment is really quite lovely now. The living room has been done in a pale, springy green, the white plaster moldings washed and repaired, all the junk of the previous owner finally cleared out except for one or two collectibles that they decided to keep. There’s a bookshelf and a desk filled with Fedya’s work things, a couch and a television and a coffee table and new curtains. The bedroom is big and airy, with a ceiling fan and new carpets. Framed pictures and art pieces hang on the wall. It looks like a place where real people live.

Ivan makes breakfast, cooking and stirring and brewing the coffee, and puts it all on a tray. It’s Saturday, so of course Fedya is still asleep, and Ivan pads through the apartment to the closed bedroom door, balancing the tray on his hip long enough to open it and cast a strip of light inside. It takes a moment, but Fedyor rolls over, groggy and tousled and very, very cute with his bed-headed dark hair and squinting eyes. “Vanya? What smells so good?”

“Happy birthday, my love.” Ivan sets the tray on the bedside table and leans down to kiss him, as Fedyor makes a happy humming sound and throws his arms around Ivan’s neck, cuddling against him like a barnacle. “I have made you breakfast.”

(His younger self was wrong, and he has never been so glad of it.)

(This was the best, this is the best, this was waiting for him, this kind of happiness could happen for him, and he is grateful beyond all words that he fought for it and believed it until it did.)

[luvlyrv]

Naughty | pt. 3 | Irene x F!Reader | Mafia!AU

Summary: Two crime bosses entangled in a deadly and tension filled rivalry start to find themselves entangled in a different kind of relationship.

Not without going through a lot of death, pain, fighting and teasing first of course.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I don’t know if I have the time to write a lot right now so I’m posting the things I already finished and are sitting in my draft. Enjoy reading! Irene and Y/N’s relationship kinda uhhh gets complicated from here on out lol

Completely unrelated but, how many times can I rewatch every single ‘Red Velvet: A Mess’ video? The answer is way too many.

Date: 1/12/21 (written)

Series Masterlist

Part 3: A Dance to Remember

Irene is looking over a hung up map of the city in her office when she heard a knock.

"Come in."

Seulgi, her second in command, entered the room. She held a plastic bag in her hand and had a pissed-off looking face. She walked towards Irene's desk and threw it there.

"A gift, from Y/N to you presumably." She announced.

Irene stepped away from examining the map and turned around to look at the bag on her desk. The bag had a horrible smell, and as Irene got close enough to see its contents she understood why. All 10 fingers of the recent informant Irene got in contact with. She gave out a low and short chuckle.

"Why are you laughing?" Seulgi was furious, because this was not how things were supposed to go.

"She's interesting, isn't she?" Irene asked playfully.

"Yeah, interestingly good at fucking up our plans, Irene." Seulgi still wasn't having it.

"Don't worry, you know me." Irene said as she strutted down to sit on her chair. She sits and looks up at Seulgi who now had a confused face. "I always get what I want, and what I want is to win this game."

Seulgi bites her lips, knowing that Irene had plans stirring up in her brain. She sighed and sat down across from her boss.

"You know I'll always be one step ahead, right?" Irene asks Seulgi.

"Of course. So, what do you want me to do now?" Seulgi responds.

-

If Joseph was being honest, tonight there would be a gala hosted by some rich businessman you frankly didn't care for. What you did care for however, was the fact that Joseph said Irene was supposed to be there.

You stood in front of your vast closet. You had to choose the right outfit for tonight. Something fashionable, prim and proper, yet not too glamorous as to make you stick out like a sore thumb. After several moments of contemplation, you decided on a maroon dress that hugged your body. It fell just right above your ankles. It was a simplistic dress, one without jewels adorning it nor any extra patterns, but the simplicity was what made it so beautiful to you.

You quickly change into the dress and brush through your hair, trying to make sure you wouldn't look like a mess when you would inevitably be surrounded by snotty rich people. For safety, instead of settling on heels you decided that perhaps nice-looking flats would be enough. You also grab a fitting purse and inside the purse was only your pistol and a tracker.

When you leave your house, you find Taehyung patiently waiting outside. He's looking fashionable himself in his tuxedo. When he catches sight of you he smiles and looks at you up and down.

"You certainly will blend in."

He opens the passenger seat for you and then makes his way to the driver's seat. He begins to take the both of you to where the gala was, and to pass the time you reviewed the plan over with him.

"Taehyung, you're purely there for recon. Don't get a trigger finger, and no matter how bad things seem don't butt-in. We really can't risk blowing our cover."

Taehyung just nods in response.

"I'll either plant a tracker on her or we'll have to follow her on foot and car. Just... don't worry about me too much. I really can't afford you getting anxious and well..."

"Yeah, I get it."

You didn't want to remind Taehyung about the fact he blew the last mission you guys had that was similar to this.

You know you're finally at the gala when you see a building with expensive cars surrounding it, lights lighting it up like a heavenly palace. You grab an intricate mask that covered your eyes from the dashboard of the car. Luckily, it looked more like a fashion statement that went with your dress rather than an attempt to hide your identity. Taehyung also wears a matching mask, with the plan being that the two of you would sneak into the event and then play it off as girlfriend and boyfriend if anyone asked.

After walking the perimeter, you finally found a spot in the back of the building with a clear route to sneak in with. The two of you enter the building with ease and began to bustle about. Taehyung would always be a couple feet in your vicinity, looking out for your back. Meanwhile you would be scanning the area for a woman that matched Joseph's description.

Beautiful, he said, you can't help but to chortle at the thought, but that did pique your curiosity about her. Joseph said she was short in stature but likely going to wear heels. Black hair and pale skin. Nearly a guarantee that she would be accompanied by her underboss, Seulgi. Brown hair and cat-like features on her face.

Honestly, Joseph's description was vague and shitty, but you'd make it work. After all, all you had to do was look out for a person who's face screamed "I've murdered and seen murder".

Of course, one can always try to pass off as innocent and pure, and most probably wouldn't notice. But you knew that among people like yourself, someone like Irene would be noticeable. Her body language should say it all.

After an hour of searching though, you begin to feel your hope falter. You couldn't find anyone that seemed to fit the description of Irene or Seulgi. You sigh, until you feel a tap on your shoulder. You flinch and quickly turn around, only to calm down when you realize it's just Taehyung.

"Jeez, you scared me."

He chuckles a bit before his face turned a bit more serious.

"Sorry about that, I just wanted to say, maybe that's her?"

He points to a far off corner, and you feel like he's hit a mark. You open up your purse just slightly. You gently grab the tracker and hide it within the clutches of your left hand. You begin to walk over to the corner Taehyung pointed to, and smiled to meet a woman that seemed like Irene. As you begin approaching her she notices your presence and turns over to you with a blank face.

You bow down in front of her and extend your right hand with your left behind your back.

"May I have a dance with you?"

The woman quirks up an eyebrow, a strange look on her face. Nonetheless, she hesitantly gives you her hand. They're small, and despite the cold look she was giving you they felt incredibly soft and warm. You begin to dance with her.

"May I know your name, pretty lady?" You ask her.

"Hmm," she hums to herself, "you can call me Irene, and I'll let you know that I'm thoroughly unimpressed right now".

Even though she says she's unimpressed, she continues dancing with you, her hips swaying with yours. After only a couple seconds of silence she asks you the same question.

"And who might you be?"

"Your lover for tonight, perhaps?" You try to play sly with her. As bad as a line that was, you smiled anyways. Irene lets a sharp exhale out of her nose.

"Now I'm really unimpressed." She says with a small smirk on her face.

As the orchestral music crescendos, you dip Irene low to the ground. Your left hand is on the dip on her small back as she allows her weight to rest on you. You hold her steady for a couple seconds as you secretly press the tracker into her dress. You're excited to know that the first step of your plan was complete, and you feel your heart rush with excitement.

Or was your heart rushing for a different reason?

You pull Irene back up and close to you, the both of you pressed up together chest to chest.

"Did you enjoy the dance, Irene?"

"What is it to you?"

You laugh a little at her response and pull away.

"Well, if you're not going to answer I suppose you won't. Farewell for now, Irene." You slip out of sight from Irene and into the crowd of other dancers. For a second though, you finally notice a girl that you would assume to be Seulgi, staring down at you with a confused glare.

You quickly make your way back to Taehyung and force him to follow you to the car.

Your ears are red. Your face is flushed. Your heart is beating so fast.

Taehyung turns on the car light and takes off your mask, shocked to see you sweating so much. He puts his hand on your forehead.

"Shit, Y/N are you sick?"

You shake your head no.

"Just nervous. I mean. Shit I think Seulgi might've known." You explain to Taehyung. He just nods. Another part of you, deep down inside though, is repeating the feeling of Irene's hand in yours, the feeling of you holding her, the subtle waft of peaches of cream coming from her body. Why were those thoughts in your head?

"Taehyung, pull out the laptop. Let's just wait for the party to end in a bit and then follow."

"Alright then."

Taehyung grabs the laptop from the back seats of the car and turns it on, pulling up the software that blinked where the tracker was. You sighed with relief, as it looked like it was still on Irene.

Now all you had to do was confront Irene when she entered a place where she thought she'd be safe. It was as simple as that.

The problem though, was that it was as simple as that. A feeling of uncertainty and anxiousness began to squeeze your chest. Things... shouldn't be this easy. Things rarely ever came this easy. No way could it be that easy to fool your rival, right? You try to calm yourself down though. After all they never removed the tracker from Irene. Even though Seulgi glared at you, that could just be because of your close vicinity with her, not because she thought you were out to kill Irene.

Yeah, things would turn out fine.

[theonlygamergost]

Will you have dinner with us?-Fd!Au

This fanfiction is based on the Family Dynamic au made by@antarctic-bay, if you would like to know more, go check them out!!!

Also please bear in mind that the things written in this might not be canon!

Of course this fic was grammatically corrected by the amazing @im-default

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Techno had to train for the duel between him and Dream, winning it not only would have finally made him the “Best Minecraft player” in the school, but it would have also helped the Pandel brothers a lot. Yet, all the stress made Techno stop spending time with his brothers, it was inevitable that one of the three would try getting him out of his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings! Angst, sad boi hours, will make you cry ;-;

Enjoy~

“H-hey Techno?” Tommy’s voice was as fragile as Techno had ever heard it. “I-I know you are… prepping for the duel but…” he got closer to the door, placing a hand on it. “Will you have dinner with us?”

He has been putting all of his time and attention on practising for the duel that the rich kid nicknamed “Mr.Beast“ had set them up for. The reward for the winner? a 100k and the title of the best Minecraft player of the school, for the loser? He didn’t intend to find out.

The stress he was going through was so high if you could see it, it would get out of the stratosphere.

“I know it’s a question of “pride” and all… but… just this once… come sit with us at the table…”

If only it was that simple Tommy… He clenched his fists, not intending to give into his beloved younger brother’s voice. He was about to put on his headphones back when the voice from behind the door spoke again.

“I’m not giving up this time!... J-just so you know!” a soft thump made Techno flinch. His eyes immediately darting to the door, scared that it would open.

Technically, the door couldn’t possibly open. He picked up the habit of locking it when entering. Why? Well... Wilbur snuck into his room and almost gave him a heart attack, being that he was too focused on the tense fight he was going through to hear the door’s soft squeak. Because of that, he locks it out of fear of history repeating itself.

~~~

Tommy allowed his back to slide on the door, sitting down while bringing his knees to his chest, hugging them close. Normally, Wilbur would call him “weak” for sitting like a “rejected schoolgirl” (whatever he means by that) in front of Techno’s room, taking his hand and forcefully sweeping him up to his feet and giving him something to do.

Phil did the same. He would kneel in front of Tommy, whispering that Techno was just going through a rough period and he needed to do it alone, telling him that it was going to be similar to the potato war and that once it was over, everything would go back to normality.

Tommy was thankful for his brothers cheering him up but deep down, he knew they missed Techno equally.

But this time, they weren’t home with him. This time, he was going to get Techno out of there.

“So… Um…” Well.. he was determined, he just didn’t know what to say to get him to open the door. “Y’know… I could help you practice… I’m- I’m good at Minecraft!” throwing random words together and making it a sentence wasn’t going to work, especially on Techno. So he closed his eyes and started seriously thinking about a plan.

The silence just made Techno feel even worse.

Was he that bad of a brother?... No, he was doing this for them. He honestly didn’t care much about the “clout” or the fame…

He just wanted to see Phil work less and care about himself more. He just wanted to see Wilbur less stressed and pursue music as his main career, not a side hobby. He just wanted to see Tommy look at the video games and toys without having the fear of asking if he could buy them. He just wanted to take them to Europe and have a nice vacation, like they used to do when their parents were still alive. He just wanted to see their brothers happier, was that too much to ask?

Getting up from his chair, he got in front of the door, imagining Tommy on the other side, was wanting to give Tommy a brighter future too much?

With his back pressed against the fake-wood of the door, he sat down, faintly hearing Tommy’s breath.

“I will win for you” Tommy’s eyes widened, not expecting to hear Techno’s voice so close to the door. The words he said and the shaky tone cough him off guard too.

“And after I do…” A gentle hick made Tommy place a hand on the door, “We will be together for however long you'd like Tommy…” another hick, but this time, it came from the living room’s side of the door, “I will have dinner with all of you every night”

The gentle sobs filling the Pandel’s household showed how much the brothers cared about each other, those long-held tears were finally given liberty, with no one but the walls hearing them.

[qianoir]

After Midnight 3 - Stars

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: college dropout!Ten (WayV) x fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, angst with fluff on top

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 13+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing (censored), lying, family problems, mentions death of reader's father, romance

♡ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9K

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @staysstrays

Preview < 1 < 2 < 3

Your head was pounding from your ears drinking in the tantrum of a 3 year old boy, the cries diving straight into your ringing eardrums. A young couple showed up with their child who started offing himself about your café not having some made up hybrid cake he wanted for the last 10 minutes.

The boy started flailing around and knocked his mother's iced Americano out of her hand in the process, landing the freezing and pungent liquid all over you.

The LED clock above you flickered with a new hour, freeing you from the café’s dark roasted chains. You ripped the soaked apron over your head and stuffed it into the back room’s washing machine before taking hold of your belongings and rushing out of the building after saying a quick “good-bye” to your mother- who was not about to deal with the coddled boy and you leaving all at once, so she kicked the spoiled family out, them following your irritated trail on the way through the doors.

You were walking fast to have a little costume change before meeting up with Ten and his friends, 5 o’clock coming within the next 20 minutes.

Y/N

Heyyo I had a little accident at work so I'm going to stop by my place to clean up before heading over to yours.

Once you were in your own space, you peeled the rest of the coffee soaked clothing off of your body, sticking the wet collection into the washer to cold soak after dressing up nicely.

TEN

d.amn it y/n you are too old to be soiling yourself

???

Y/N

That’s not what I meant!

TEN

Whatever ;p

Stepping out into the bright evening air, you realized you don't even know where the hell to go. The napkin with the address was in the pocket of your apron washing back at the café.

You recognized the street that leads to Décalcomanie, the street that leads to Myeongdong, and one leading to a duck shop.

Admitting defeat, you texted Ten.

Y/N

hey so I left the napkin with your address in my apron.. which I don't have would you mind sending it to me?

TEN

such a handful~

You followed the GPS to his address. His apartment building was on the other side of your school you usually metro to, so it was a pretty tiring walk. Arriving fashionably late, you knocked on door number 117.

There was a lot of commotion and screaming, as you were previously informed. Finally, Ten opened the door and waved for you to come in.

Taking your shoes off at the entrance, you saw three guys tackling each other, two others playing video games, and one really fine looking man behind an island in the kitchen.

"Hello!!" One of the guys being tackled shouted and waved at you which got him punched in the back by the guy orchestrating the tackling. You hesitantly waved back "Hi Y/N!!" The boy in the kitchen said with a charming smile.

"Lovely place." You said to Ten with a giggle as he closed the door with an annoyed look on his face. "Y/N, these are my friends,"

He took you over to the couch where the two players were. "This is Sicheng and Xuxi," The two boys playing Mario Kart threw a glance your way and waved with a smile. "these fools are Hendery, Xiaojun, and Yangyang.."

Hendery strained to wave again under the two boys with a big smile on his face, as did the two others. Ten swayed you into the kitchen and introduced you to the last man. This guy was so handsome, like the Asian bachelor. "I'm Kun." The man greeted, kindly.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N. Our Ten always talks about you." Yangyang says walking towards you two. Ten sent him a glare. "Is that so?"

"At least I'm not blind from having my head up my ass all day, Yangyang shut up!" His voice cracked, making you and Yangyang erupt in laughter.

"Anyways, if you'll excuse us- I invited Y/N here for us to be alone." He took your wrist in his grasp and led you to a room.

Ten pet a space on the bed for you to sit down while he leaned over his desk, searching on his laptop. A slow beat filled the room. You recognized this song- the song your dad would play for your mom in the car on long road trips: Something by The Beatles.

Something in the way she moves

attracts me like no other lover

Something in her style that shows me

I don’t want to leave her now

you know I believe and how.

Your parents were so in love. When your father first heard this song, he had made it their special theme to portray their love. They had both become big fans of The Beatles and always had this song pop up at least once in every holiday or event playlist or could be caught quoting it occasionally when the timing was right. Your heart sank in your chest at the memory.

You hadn't realized that the song had ended or that Ten was at your side watching you intently. You looked up at him and he offered a small smile.

"My parents used to listen to this song all the time."

"Really? Are you guys close?"

Your mouth felt sour hearing the inevitable question. “My dad died from pneumonia when I was younger. My mom tries to be present for me, but I know she misses him.” Tears puddled at your waterline as you forced yourself not to cry. “Sometimes I think she only keeps trying because she thinks I’m studying premed when I really hide pointe shoes in my closet. I don’t have the heart to tell her what I’m really majoring in.. because I’m terrified of us losing each other completely and frankly, she would never forgive me of my dishonesty if she would stay.”

"It's not wrong.. following your passion" Ten announced after a whole note of silence, "I'm sorry for making you bring up such a past, but I’m happy I can at least sympathize with you..” He looked away from you to recall his memories clearly.

“My parents didn't agree with me wanting to study dance either. And they certainly did not agree with me leaving my hometown in Thailand and dropping out of college to come here for the best art opportunities. Mine and the rest of the guys outside; all of us are a little more distant from our family than usual just because we are passionate." Ten confessed.

"I'm sorry." You weakly rasped.

"I'm not." Ten smiled at you.

"My friends and I are doing what we love without anyone holding us back and one day it's going to all pay off.. I know it will.. If it wouldn't I would have never dropped out."

You could understand where he was coming from. He is really passionate and faithful to his dreams, it is a little inspiring.

"And you seem to be doing good on your own, too. You're studying dance, which I'm sure you're amazing at, and working at the café to help your mom, letting people make a mess of you that you always undoubtedly pick yourself up from." You laughed, the sad tears rolling down your cheeks and turning to bittersweet tears of joy.

"Thank you, Ten."

"Anytime, Y/N." He handed you a napkin for your eyes.

A cough was heard outside the closed door, along with faint whispers.

"Lucas, shut the HELL up!"

Ten got up and opened the door, making four boys come tumbling inside the room.

All rushing to get up, Lucas stayed laying on the floor, "Uh, hi guys." he offered a charming smile. "We were just coming to tell you that dinner is ready?" Yangyang shrugged obviously.

Ten snickered.

"Nice try, guys-"

"Dinner is ready!" Kun yelled from the kitchen.

"What did I tell you?" Yangyang stuck out his tongue, cockily. Ten rolled his eyes and looked over at you,

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Uhm-"

"She is staying, I already made her a plate!" Kun yelled once again from the kitchen. The other boys ran out of the doorway to the kitchen.

"I guess it's settled then..." Ten sighed and reached his hand out to you, which you took. You were led into the dining room where the other boys sat. Ten placed you in a chair next to his and Kun’s.

Kun had made zhajiangmian, a Chinese traditional celebration/comfort food aka Chinese spaghetti. It tasted so much better than the bread pastries and milk teas you had been living off of in the past year.

Everyone was very talkative during dinner, you even found out that Ten choreographs his own dances for himself and the others to perform and learned that Kun has a degree in music from a prestigious university in Beijing. The boys you had dinner with were really fun to be around and gave you lots of energy after the intricate start to the new semester.

You didn't realize how lonely your little apartment was until now, even when sharing it with your mother most nights. They made you feel so comfortable and content after lacking companionship since your high school days. Also the food was really good, thanks to Kun.

Everybody finished their food but still continued the little chat at the dinner table "And this one time, Ten ate butter thinking it was ice cream! Who does that!?" Yangyang finished off his story punching the table with laughter.

You glanced at the time on your phone. It was almost 10 o'clock and you had to get to sleep early for your new 8 AM class.

Ten turned to you when he felt short tugs at his hoodie. "Cinderella has to get home?"

The room got quiet with Ten’s words, but quickly exploded in a swarm of whines and begs for you to stay. You gave them an apologetic smile.

Ten stood up, pulling me with him, "I'll walk you home." He was already at the door, kicking on his shoes. Everyone bid you good-bye as you waved to all of them before you and Ten were out the door.

"It's this way." You motioned in the direction of your apartments. Ten nodded and followed your path. It was silent the whole way, but it was a nice silence. It was peaceful with just you two. Arriving soon, you  stopped in front of the entrance and turned around to look at Ten.

"Thank you for having me over, I really enjoyed it. Your friends are really nice."

"Of course. I’m really glad you came. I like spending time with you and I think my friends do as well."

Smiles were exchanged and hearts skipped, both of your breathing patterns were evident in each other’s dialogue. "Do you have any last lyrics before we end the night?"

Your building never shines like the others in its distance. The only light around you is the one that blooms in space and allows the stars to twinkle down to where you stand. Ten took your chin is his hand and created perfect eye contact:

"Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you. And all the things that you do.”

He tossed your chin up before walking off into the night.

To Be Continued…

Something by The Beatles

Yellow by Coldplay

𝘲𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳

[4328fox]

Sweatshirt-Related Blues

summary: Alternatively, Yuri thinks about the routine that's setting in his life when it comes to dating Flynn.

notes: This was a drabble I did a month ago trying to work through my handful of writing ideas. I wasn't initially going to post it, especially not the second chapter, but I still feel relatively proud of both, so here they are. I mostly wanted to poke at Yuri (modern au setting) about thoughts he would likely deny of every having passed through his mind.

2k words. link to AO3

both chapters are also on the read more below!

SIDE A

Another calm afternoon goes by. Yuri continues typing on his computer as he strings his thoughts along, thoughts among the lines of I don’t get why you just don’t note these stuff down, while some from Brave Vesperia lament their loss in some scavenger-hunting video game. Yuri played a bit of it himself, but took to just watching Karol, Rita, Estelle and Patty mess around. He chuckles when he reads Rita’s clearly annoyed reply, and types up a quick one of his own. And then Estelle asks, isn’t it five in the afternoon now? Yuri sneaks a quick glance at the time on the monitor.

“Shit. I’m gonna be late.”

Yuri almost jumps out of the chair to get ready, but as he gets up, he decides to shoot a quick goodbye to his friends. Have fun lol, is how he finishes up the message, before he rushes back to his bed, where Repede has been resting.

“Come on, buddy, we can’t keep Flynn waiting.” Though Yuri very well recognizes that the fault will fall on him more than on his sleeping companion. He discards the sleep wear he put back on after running some morning errands, and grabs the clothes he dropped over the bed. Some bermuda shorts and a sweatshirt that is too light for the drizzling weather. At the very least, he feels good wearing those, so why pick a new outfit? Flynn’s definitely going to comment that I’d get cold. As if that really bothered Yuri to begin with.

He does a quick pat over his pocket, for his wallet. There. And he slides his phone comfortably into the other one. Repede just then has awoken fully, attentive to Yuri’s haste.

“Okay, let’s go.” He tries to comb a hand through his hair, but he instantly gets stuck on a painful knot. Yuri hisses a bit. “Or maybe in a minute.”

After a quick brushing session, Yuri slid his sneakers on and left the apartment, with Repede in tow. That’s when he gets a text. He opens it up, and as suspected, it’s from Flynn. Asking him if Yuri’s late again. That’s all routine.

The time they have together ends up amazing. To think they could make a competition out of bowling. As a result, Flynn paid for both their meals at the local restaurant. They spent longer than expected just chatting and eating, cooling down from earlier. They’d been sitting across one another on the table, exchanging the occasional grins between one another. And Yuri continuously stole glances from Flynn as they talked to one another, without being self-conscious of it like he used to be. That’s one perk in finally getting together. Their feelings are laid out on the table, there is no need to dance around excuses.

Flynn checks the wristwatch on his free hand, and Yuri just then realises he was entirely too focused on the hand itself. Their eyes meet.

“Yuri, it’s getting a bit late. Should we go?”

Yuri sips the remainder of his milkshake as he thinks. “Yeah. We can. I don’t have anything to be up in the morning for, though.”

“I have something from 10 in the morning.”

They both stand up, ready to head out. Yuri reaches for Flynn’s hand, taking it tentatively. It’s warm and slightly rough to the touch, but Yuri knows it’s as rough as his own. Flynn squeezes his hand and looks at Yuri to smile.

“I take it that you enjoyed tonight?”

“Hell yeah,” Yuri replies, “I beat you at bowling, I got free food. I think I got it pretty well.”

“I see that our date was just another contest to you.”

“Not my fault you lost.”

They continue bickering all the way to Yuri’s apartment. Flynn goes up the elevator with him, all the way to the entrance to Yuri’s apartment. This is routine, as dates with Flynn have been. Usually the outings would come and go, and one would escort the other and go home. They would hold hands. They kissed a few times.

“I’ll text you later.” Flynn says, quieter than his usual. He sounds so soft, it makes Yuri think that the sudden pounding in his heart is louder.

But he tries to keep it cool. “What, you don’t want to sleepover? Like the usual?”

“I didn’t bring any spare clothes with me. Or cleaning utilities. And I have classes.” Flynn laughs sheepishly. He takes both of Yuri’s hands in his own, but only for a brief moment.

“Aren’t the ones you’re taking in particular online? You just login in from my desktop and you’d be set.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, though I do hold to my lack of spare clothes.”

“Fine, fine.” Yuri rolls his eyes as they continue smiling. Yuri feels like they’re both the dazed fools from some picture-perfect storybook.

And then they look at each other. Yuri watches how Flynn suddenly grows nervous, swallowing a bit. It makes Yuri want to be just a bit selfish… To place one kiss on Flynn’s neck, where he knows it would tickle, to feel Flynn chuckle because Yuri for a fact knows that neither of them are very well-versed in being openly affectionate at all.

He leans in, hand lifting to cup Flynn’s face. The gentle press of their lips reminds Yuri of the static he would feel back when he dreamt of kissing Flynn, back when he was clueless of how bad he got it. And just like in his dreams, the kiss lasts for seconds, before one or both of them inevitably pull away. Yuri feels Flynn’s hand over his own.

But what if this were different from the dreams? What if Yuri pressed their lips again, chasing the feeling of Flynn being close? They’ve only ever had these short and sweet kisses, the types to make any hopeless romantic jealous. Yuri never thought he would be here like this, but there is always an exception when it comes to Flynn.

Both his hands are now on Flynn’s face, stroking his cheeks with thumbs. The kiss is slow, yet it quickly renders them breathless. They bump noses, they don’t really know where to put their hands, it’s not a smooth sail. But it was never meant to be elegant to begin with, given they’re in some old apartment complex corridor. Yuri feels Flynn kiss with the same amount of reluctance out of inexperience, but the very fact he’s wrapping his arms around Yuri’s back makes Yuri’s heart swell.

They part, but they’re still holding one another. Yuri, expecting to see the same face and the same blue eyes he loves, finds that it’s Flynn who's buried his face in Yuri’s neck. It makes Yuri feel adrenaline rush instantly, his cheeks feeling fuzzy and pulling at the corners of his mouth. It takes another second or two for him to realise that his boyfriend isn’t trying to kiss his neck, like he expected, but is instead just hiding his face.

Yuri finds it incredibly endearing. He should have expected this. He hugs back, not as tightly, but his hands rub Flynn’s back. “It’s gonna get cold for real if you stay out here any longer.”

Muffled through Yuri’s sweatshirt, Flynn says: “Your fault if I go out and get a cold.”

“You’re the one wearing a polo like you’re a divorced dad.” He slowly breaks off the hug, because he still wants to give Flynn a quick look over. Not entirely because their kiss just now woke thoughts in Yuri that he is desperately trying to keep dormant.

“Now it’s “divorced dad”? I would appreciate it if you stuck with one name when it came to my fashion sense.”

“It’s all atrocious is what it is.” Yuri grins, crossing his arms as soon as Flynn steps out of hugging range.

“And yet you still date me.”

“You’re lucky I like you, yeah. Now go home, if you cherish your special shower gel more than video game night.”

“I wouldn’t want to wound your pride after the amount of gloating you did over bowling.” Flynn chuckles at the thought, before his smile settles to something softer. “Goodnight, Yuri.”

It takes Yuri a beat to remember he’s supposed to go inside his apartment. “Yeah. Night.”

He fishes out the keys from his shorts’ pockets and unlocks his door in a swift move. After a quick wave from them both, Flynn turns his back to leave, while Yuri (and Repede, who was waiting diligently), are within the comfort of their home. Yuri sighs, a bit breathless, as he drops his keys and wallet to the side.

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

SIDE B

Yuri daydreams more, as of late. When he and Flynn spend time together, the urge to be closer lingers on his mind. How much closer can he get to Flynn anyway? They go on dates somewhat regularly, they chat, they hang out with their friends. There’s sleepovers where they play video games to an ungodly hour, days where Yuri sits Flynn down just to help him recite whatever he was meant to study for a test.

And then there’s affection. Words of endearment, lingered in small doses of insult toward one another, there’s the occasional hand-holding, and there’s standing close at times. And then there’s Flynn’s different ways of showing his love, the tight embraces, the kisses…

Yuri wants more. And it’s such a selfish and such a strong urge forming itself in his brain and not leaving. Now that they’ve been dating for closer to a year, Yuri lays after dates in his bed, agonizing over himself. What more is there to want? Isn’t this calm in the sea much better than chaos contained within the waves? Yuri is lucky enough that their feelings ended up being mutual, because he never even imagined he would get this far with Flynn.

But that is a vice of itself, Yuri thinks, because it makes him dream. The deeper kisses he and Flynn shared in rare instances could not satisfy all urges, the parts of Yuri he would much rather purge out of existence.

Yuri wishes Flynn were here. That they were embracing over Yuri’s bed, that they were kissing. He’d probably been the one to push Flynn toward the bed, he realises. He’s the enabler in many ways, even if it’s something deemed so selfish. Yuri turns to lay on his side at the thought. Bodies pressed closer, warm feelings contained between them. Yuri thinks about Flynn’s hands, and how they would move to pull Yuri closer, while the gentle touch would leave him longing for some sappy words, some sappy expressions of love.

They’ve yet to settle comfortably in love declarations too. Yuri implies it with words, actions, never using the word itself. Flynn is a bit better about this, though he is just as skittish. If nothing else, he is much better at expressing his affection just through his choice of words than Yuri is. It isn’t that Yuri would mind saying the three words, because he imagines them escaping between him and Flynn, between hushed kissing. But he has yet to find the strength to say them. Yuri can only hope that he is at least able to express them.

He wants to make Flynn feel the same things Yuri is feeling now. He wants to move his hands, his lips, to lay over Flynn, to cup his face and to kiss him harder, until they both are breathless, laughing tired, basking in each other’s comfort. He doesn’t want one of them to have to go home after a date, he doesn’t want them to end on sweet kisses only. He wants them to spend the night, less as best friends still navigating their relationship, but closer to lovers who have been waiting for too long...

The moment Yuri realises he’s gotten too lost in his thoughts, he sits up, almost abruptly. His heart beats hard, it’s all he can hear in the darkness of the night. In the wake of it all, Yuri isn’t sure he is able to accept how he gets about this stuff.

He shuffles his hand through the night stand, until he picks up his phone. A little past 1am. Yuri supposes it’s fair. There aren't any text-related notifications, but he still opens the app for his group chats. Still no notification he happened to miss. Yuri taps the chat with Flynn, the latest message being some reply from Flynn over a meme Yuri sent. It says he’s online, so he’s probably studying.

Yuri begins typing, and he can feel his heart pound through his hands, making them feel weirdly clammy. Yuri pays little attention to it, but to think that he would feel like this… To be honest, it’s nice. That Yuri isn’t immune to something like the fluttering feelings of dating meant that all his thoughts that he can’t say out loud are normal.

He stares at his message for Flynn. He swallows, and he reads through it again. His thumb hovers over the send button. But he presses backspace.

i wish you stayed the night. i love you.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

I see you mentioned Zutara while on your rant about Tomione 👀 (Amazing rant btw, I love how you pick apart the whole thing only to put it back together with a neat little bow) so what do you think about them? Personally I love Zutara and kid me knew what was up the second Zuko got redemption arc. There are really great fics too

PS: Since you seem to enjoy space themed media I have a video game recommendation. Mass Effect trilogy, you have to trust me, it's absolutely amazing and I think you would find it interesting. The story, interactions and characters are all very well developed and you get a shit ton of choices at every step of the way. Plus you can bang aliens 👁👄👁

Well, I probably shouldn’t have thrown Zutara in with the others, it’s not quite that flavor of Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, Jane Foster/Loki Laufeyson, Sakura Haruno/Madara Uchiha (or insert some edgy smart villain here... Which I guess is Orochimaru, but we don’t see that around much) we all know and love. 

Zutara’s more like... Hermione/Draco, if I’m pulling ships out of a hat.

Katara is our very intelligent female lead and Zuko, especially in season one, is our edgier antihero/villain character who’s not quite as smart as Katara. But they still have that foe-yay thing going on.

The reason I say season one is because that was when we’re still learning a lot about Zuko and he’s painted as one of our main antagonists. He’s nowhere close to redeeming himself yet, we get some of his backstory but not a ton, and as a result he had that sort of fanfiction Draco Malfoy persona to him where an author wants strong female lead with one of the interesting villain characters but not any of the ones that are not age appropriate or too evil.

Now, as for my thoughts on Zutara from the whole show (versus how fandom interpreted it when the show was ongoing), I’d have to say given canon it wouldn’t happen. Well, first, we saw it not happen: Katara marries Aang and Zuko marries Mai. More than that though, given the events at the end of season 2, I don’t think Katara could ever fully trust him again. They become friends, and have a weird vengance quest together, but I don’t think she’d be able to trust him on the level needed to form a romantic relationship. 

Before season 2, back in season 1, he was too much of an enemy. We had a sliver of a window in season 2, during the fall of Ba Sing Se, but ultimately I think Zuko’s betrayal was going to happen at some point. Despite all he’d said, Zuko hadn’t given up on his family, his honor, or his country. He’d become resigned to his position, to his new life, but he’d drop all of that to return home and gain everything he thought he wanted in a heartbeat. Which, well, he did. When that inevitably happened, any romantic prospects between Katara and Zuko are done.

That said, I’ve seen good fics done, well one good fic really but I can’t say I’ve been looking too hard. Potential is there, but mostly in the form of extreme AUs.

As for your video game recommendation, I must disappoint you. I am a terrible gamer. I am that level above “has never played a video game in their life” in “sometimes can finish a Nintendo game”. I don’t have the gaming set up for serious games, I don’t have the expertise, and I don’t have the patience.

So, while I’m sure Mass Effect is great, I’m going to have decline watching my character get shot a billion times because I keep accidentally crashing them into a wall.