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mercyreg · 15 days

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Strollonso “Just Barely.”

A possible fic where big shot model Lance spends his 20th birthday at a club where he goes home with someone, That someone Just so happens to be a World Champion Formula One Racer. More specifically Fernando Alonso. Only to find He is now the cover boy for his team by a phone call a day later.

Should I make it…

Let me know if you want on a tag list if this gets published?

#formula 1 #f1 edit #formula one #aston martin #fernando alonso #strollonso #lance stroll #gay #microfic maybe?#Proper fic?#Racing #ls18 #fa14

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a-round-of-robyns · 2 months

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05/03: glow; wc: 365; @jegulus-microfic

“You’re going to absolutely glow tonight, Prongs.” Sirius said as he finished dusting highlighter over James’ cheekbones.

“Yeah, Reg won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” Peter commented from across the room where he and Remus were playing chess while waiting for the other two to finish getting ready.

“Can you not bring up the fact that James is dating my baby brother please?” Sirius asked, an exaggerated look of disgust on his face.

“I thought you supported them Pads” Remus said, a glint of mischief in his eyes

“Yeah Sirius, I thought you supported us?” James joined in.

“Watch it Prongs, I can always take back my blessing-”

“No you won’t, Regulus would kill you.”

“AND, I do support them, I would just rather not be reminded of it all the time.”

“Whatever Sirius, let’s go before Mary drags us down by our ears again.”

All the boys suppressed a shiver at the memory and filed out the door to go down to the common room. As soon as the door opened, they were hit with a wall of sound that had previously been blocked out by the silencing charms on their dorm. Once James reached the bottom of the stairs, he scanned the room for Regulus.

His eyes caught on his boyfriend who was standing right across from him on the other side of the common room. The side of Regulus’ mouth quirked up when they made eye contact. James was overcome with the need to kiss Regulus, and so made his way over, never taking his eyes off Regulus.

“Hi baby.” James muttered, arms circling Regulus’ waist, brushing his lips over Regulus’.

“Hi Jamie.” Regulus replied, “You’re looking very sparkly tonight, did Sirius finally bully you into letting him put you in makeup?”

James beamed down at him, “Do you like it? It’s something called highlighter.”

“You look very pretty, darling.” Regulus said, leaning up to kiss James properly.

James responded very enthusiastically, arms tightening around Regulus, whose hands had somehow found their way into his hair.

He pulled back slightly, nosing at Regulus’ neck. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now come back here and kiss me.”

#theo writes #writing #jegulus microfic #microfic #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #don't ask why theyre at a party again #i saw glow and thought highlighter #it's the vibes #vaguely surprised i wrote another microfic #maybe i'll actually be able to stick with something for once

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bellaxisworld · 4 days

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april 26 @jegulus-microfic prompt: aimless. word count: 248.

Regulus Black is not a person who ever feels misguided. At this point in his life, he feels strength in his purpose, and he’s confident in his decisions, his opinions. He follows a clear path, he’s organized—and it brings him joy to be so put-together. He doesn’t often feel lost.

That is—he’s never felt as aimless as he does now, standing before the most stunning man he’s ever met, mouth dropped open in awe as he stares wordlessly. The man grins at him, and his heart flutters. He is pure fucking gold under Regulus' gaze, glistening and warm under the sunlight, and Regulus knows he has never understood true want until this moment.

He’s been standing silently for far too long now, and he realizes he forgot the question the man asked entirely. Shit.

He stammers through half a phrase before the man’s chuckle interrupts him.

“I’m James,” he says, eyes full of honeybrown sugar as he looks down at Regulus. He’s tall. Regulus is weak in the knees.

Remembering his manners, Regulus breathes and extends a hand, “I’m Regulus.”

James’ smile widens, and he says, “That’s a lovely name, Regulus.” Their hands meet in the middle. Between them, Regulus feels the entire universe hone into the contact—he feels the universe pause and right itself completely at this moment, because nothing has ever felt as perfect as them. Regulus looks up at James, and he thinks, absurdly, in every life, my heart will find yours.

⭐️ find more of my microfics posted on ao3, here.

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weirdtinkerbellversion · 3 months

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Feb 3. Prompt: King. Word count: 80 @jegulus-microfic

Regulus had argued with James when they were furnishing their home that they didn’t need a King-sized bed, especially since Regulus always needed to be close to James at night. He caved when James had given him that look, and Regulus was a weak, weak man.

But now, with Harry cuddled between them and their cat Bean claiming a corner of the bed to herself, he couldn’t be more grateful for a large bed to keep his entire family close.

#Regulus is touch starved and traumatized and needs everyone he loves close to him at all times #Add another Jegulus child in there and maybe a puppy too and let the chaos ensue #Jegulus microfic #Jegulus #James Potter #Regulus Black #Regulus x James

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soupandsorcery · 11 days

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"No son of mine--" Lucius roars, drawing himself up to his full, impressive height. He's red in the face, his thinning hair wispy and unkempt in his anger. "Do you hear me, Draco? No son of mine is going to flounce around dressed like a--" He cuts himself off, like he doesn't know what he wants to say.

And Draco, well. Draco has a moment of perfect, sparkling clarity.

It's as if all of a sudden, Draco's childhood is rearranging itself. All the spoiling, the pampering, the vacations to lavish, lush places, interspersed with hiding under the bed from Lucius' rages, clutching at Narcissa's hand in the kitchen while Lucius shattered crystal in the parlor. Being led, Lucius' hand in a white knuckled grip on Draco's shoulder, to stand in front of the Dark Lord. All the little moments Draco shoved down or ignored in favor of a cruel, empty smile and doing what was best for the family. What Lucius said was best, anyway.

Now, everything is different. Now, Draco knows that Lucius Malfoy is a small, scared man, clinging to the last vestiges of his control with everything he has. And Draco knows that she will do anything, anything to avoid ending up like him.

"That's fine," she says, cutting in before Lucius can take another breath.

"Excuse me?"

"I said 'that's fine'," Draco replies coolly. "You don't have to worry about what a son of yours would do because you don't have a son, and considering the way you treated me when you thought you did, I don't plan to stick around and find out how you could scar a daughter for life."

Lucius splutters, struck dumb by Draco's pronouncement. It feels good, she won't lie.

She turns sharply, heels clacking with finality as she walks across the polished marble floor of the Manor's entry way and heads for the stairs, hopefully, for the last time.

She pulls out her mobile as she goes, sending off two texts with clumsy fingers. Why are the keyboards on these things so bleeding small?

I hope you were serious about letting me move in with you, Potter.

Because I'm certain I can never come back here.

There's a long moment before Potter responds, and Draco starts throwing the few things she wants to keep from this place into her trunk. It's depressing, how little feels worth saving here.

Her phone buzzes, cutting off that train of thought.

Dead serious, Potter replies. I need you to help me with this place.

And then, Proud of you, Malfoy.

So that's that settled, then.

#drarry #drarry microfic #hpdm #draco malfoy #trans woman draco #noah plays with words #just something self indulgent that's been in my head for a bit #i kind of want to do a series of microfics with trans woman draco and harry getting together #maybe even trans woman draco and harry and ron #i don't have the attention span for a whole fic so microfics it is lol

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starchaserdreams · 1 year

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Wolfstar Microfic: Euphoria

"What'd you call it? The Mirror of Erised? What's it do?"

"Just try it, tell us what you see."

"I don't understand, why's it showing me Moony when he's all the way over there?"

And then a laugh.

"Why's the Moony in the mirror kissing me??"

Remus' jaw dropped, but he couldn't help the warm and cozy feeling that was growing in his chest.

This was heaven.

This was perfection.

This...was euphoria.

@wolfstarmicrofic

#i have no idea what the context for this is #like no idea how old they are #but i think that would be sweet if sirius saw him #like lbr he might really see himself and regulus getting along well or him getting regulus out safely #but id like to think moonyd be there too #at least some of the time #because moony has his heart #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #marauders #marauders era #mirror of erised #wolfstarmicrofic #microfic #dead gay wizards #young marauders #maybe #but maybe not it's unclear

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a-little-unsteddie · 7 months

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strawberries & lemonade

i have wanted to write something for this month’s @steddiemicrofic challenge, but i have been unable to get my brain to do anything with it for some reason. however! that ended tonight and i was able to write this and now i’m gonna think about witch!steve for the rest of forever. thank you @sailing-through-hawkins and @hammity-hammer for enabling me. alternative title: how much world building can rowan fit into this ficlet? answer: tbd

prompt: charm || word count: 548 || rated: t

If you needed something magic related, there was only one place in Hawkins to find it.

Okay, well, maybe that was a lie, but there was only one place that anyone with any self respect would go to. Which is why Eddie found himself approaching the Harrington cottage at the barrier between town and the wilds.

Eying the edge of the wilds warily, Eddie carefully made his way up the stone path to the front door. When he looked up at the front door, he was surprised to see the witch leaning against the railing of his porch. He wasn’t exactly what Eddie had been expecting; he was wearing a worn yellow shirt with brown leggings, and some brown leather boots. Atop his head wasn’t a stereotypical witch hat, but his hair was tucked into what appeared to be a crocheted hair bandana. All of that is to say, he didn’t look like who Eddie had expected to find when he left the small place he called home that afternoon.

“Well met,” Eddie breathed, eyes wide as he met Steve’s gaze head on.

“Well met,” Steve returned, smiling slightly. He gestured towards a small set up where he had put out lemonade and fresh fruit, “Come sit. We can talk.” Eddie’s stomach immediately growled as he walked up the steps to sit where Steve had motioned.

“Are the stories true?” Eddie asked, looking at the food and beverage with apprehension. Steve sat across from him, sitting with his legs folded under him.

“What stories?” Steve asked, before noticing his apprehensive demeanor and snorted. “No.”

Eddie flushed, ducking his head as he muttered a quiet, but sincere apology. He reached out and grabbed a strawberry, humming happily as he bit into it.

“My uncle is sick,” Eddie said, as he sipped the lemonade. The witch hummed, eating one of the strawberries himself. “I heard you’re the best.”

“You heard correctly,” Steve said, nodding. “What ails him?”

“We..we think it’s a curse.”

“We?”

“I,” Eddie amended, looking sheepish. “I think it’s a curse.”

Steve hummed and looked at Eddie expectantly, which the man took as a sign to continue. He explained the little he did know about his uncle’s condition, a persistent fever that refused to go down, with fever dreams of black dogs plaguing his fitful sleep. All the while, Steve listened carefully, looking more and more angry as he continued.

“I agree with your assessment,” Steve said, standing abruptly. “Stay here.” He said before disappearing into the cottage, leaving Eddie sitting on his porch alone. When he returned, Steve held out a small charm. Eddie hesitated briefly before grabbing it.

“Put this beneath his pillow for three nights, and the fever will break and the dreams will cease,” Steve explained, eyebrows furrowed, betraying his concern. “Nights only,” He reiterated. Eddie nodded slowly, peering at the small charm curiously.

After a moment, Eddie looked up at the witch. “I don’t have a lot to offer in return,” he admitted guiltily.

Steve smiled softly, “I only ask for a boon.”

“A boon?”

“You will know,” Steve said, reaching out for Eddie’s hand, covering it completely with his own. Eddie hissed, shaking it out before realizing Steve had seared his sigil onto the back of his hand. “And you will come.”

#ok but i really love this okay #i am resisting everything to not expand upon this universe #and who knows #maybe one day i will #st #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #au content: fantasy #au content: witch!steve #witch!steve #unsteddie writing #microfic challenge #steddie microfic #september; charm

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quillkiller · 2 months

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microfic: effiebarty, 1.3k words, mature.

age gap (barty 22, effie 46), cheating, referenced abuse (barty’s father), mild sexual content

Barty huffed out a not-so-surprised laugh when his back hit the couch, looking up at the lust filled brown eyes that, in turn, were looking down at him. Christ, he thought. He was in way over his head.

Nowhere else he'd rather be, though.

It had been his fathers idea– to help out at the Potter’s. Maybe befriend Fleamont Potter’s only son, James Potter, the loud arrogant fucker. The most important task at hand, though, was to be at Mr. Potters side. Offer your assistance, his father said. Whatever he wants, and maybe something will become of you.

Barty had expected Mr. Potter to open the goddamn gates to the pretentious fucking mansion he was living in, but instead he was met with the Missus. It was early in the morning and she had been wearing a mint green silk robe and not much else. Hair a little messy and unkempt, unimpressed look on her face. Twenty years Barty’s senior, at the very least.

“Fuck me,” Barty had exhaled, inelegant and inappropriate. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but in his defense his father always did say he couldn’t beat him into a proper young man.

Certainly didn’t stop him from trying though.

Mrs. Potter raised one single eyebrow, raised her coffee cup to her lips and watched him as his eyes followed the motion, and then stepped aside to let him in. She laughed, a quiet mischievous little thing, when his breath caught in his throat.

“Fuck me,” he repeated through a breathy laugh.

“Unlikely.” an amused Mrs. Potter said.

Barty did whatever Mr. Potter told him to, which were all bullshit jobs that certainly wouldn’t help the bloody career he didn’t even care about in the first place. He brought him coffees, cleaned their giant fucking pool, ran errands– and on some, very rare, occasions he was to follow James around. Take notes, Mr. Potter said.

Barty had punched people for a lot fucking less.

It could’ve been worse, though. His anger simmered away immediately when he entered the kitchen to find Mrs. Potter already there, standing by the kitchen island. She’d pour him a cup of coffee and ask him how he takes it. She was a bloody goddess, too good for this house, in the early morning sun peeking through the large kitchen windows.

Barty would say something stupid like: your husband is waiting for me.

Mrs. Potter would grin and say: you’d rather drink your coffee with him?

Fuck no, he’d laugh. He figured he could steal five minutes of the day, just to share them with the Missus of the house. Mr. Potter wouldn’t miss him, certainly. Maybe Barty would even survive this bullshit not-even-a-job without breaking something if Mrs. Potter would continue to indulge him. If she’d let his greedy eyes watch her. He felt like a stain in her presence, afraid to get too close and infect her with his filth.

She stepped closer, entering his personal space, and raised the cup of coffee for him to grab. Their fingers brushed when he took it. She hadn’t flinched at the touch. Hadn’t wrinkled her nose in disgust. She let her fingers linger, just a little, before removing them.

Good boy, she’d said.

Barty nearly dropped the coffee cup on the floor.

Since then, she would always wait for him in the kitchen when he came down. Or at least he’d like to think she was waiting. For him. And when he was cleaning their pool, she’d come out and offer him a cold drink. Sometimes she’d stay, lower herself onto one of the tanning chairs with a book. Sneak a glance or two, and maybe, just maybe, Barty would throw his shirt off. Claiming it’s too bloody hot out. Maybe Mrs. Potter’s glances would increase after that.

Yeah, it could’ve been worse.

“Why are you here, anyway?” Mrs. Potter asked one afternoon, outstretched on her tanning chair in a white silk robe and another book in her hands. She liked books. Maybe Barty would bring her one of his own someday.

“Why are you?” Barty challenged, and fished a cigarette from out of his back pocket. He raised his eyebrows towards the older woman, as if to ask do you mind?

Mrs Potter shrugged, “My husband wouldn’t like it if he knew,”

Barty didn’t know which question she was answering, but he lit up the cigarette and brought it to his lips. Mrs Potter watched him do it. “And you?” he asked.

Mrs. Potter laughed, a bright thing Barty wanted to hear more of. He felt the burning heat of jealousy bubbling up in his chest at the thought that Mr. Potter got to hear it. Probably a lot, even. Maybe from their shared marital bed, where he touched her in ways he didn’t fucking deserve.

“You’re cocky, you know that?”

“I’ve been accused of worse things.”

“I’m sure you can be a good boy,” Mrs Potter teased, “when you want to be,”

Barty fought the urge to drop to his knees and crawl over to her on all fours. He wasn’t completely sure he wasn’t salivating, like a dog with a bone just out of reach. He wondered if Mrs. Potter was doing it on purpose, dangling it infront of him like this. It certainly didn’t stop his imagination from running wild.

They held each other's gaze, tension heavy in the air. Barty knew he was blushing, but he didn’t look away. His knees would buckle, though, any second now, he was sure of it. The thought only made him blush further. He wouldn’t mind falling to his knees in front of Mrs. Potter. Wouldn’t mind submitting to her every whim, really, if that’s what she wanted

Mrs. Potter bit her lip and lowered her gaze just slightly. She put her book down on the ground, ever so slowly— and allowed her legs to part, her silk robe loosening sinfully as her legs continued to spread.

The cigarette fell from Barty’s lips, long since forgotten. He was about to say something, to maybe possibly object. Remind her of her bore of a useless husband, before he realised he absolutely didn’t care. Couldn’t care less, really, as his gaze lowered and watched as Mrs. Potter’s fingers reached the hem of her swim wear.

“Mrs–”

“Effie,” she interrupted.

Heat pooled in his chest, his belly— his entire body. He swallowed tightly as her fingers dipped even lower. Someone would kill him for this, he thought. If they ever found out.

He bit his own lip until he could taste the metallic tang of blood. Mrs Potter - Effie, he corrected - moaned as her hand disappeared between her legs, not looking away from him once.

His knees buckled.

“Watch,” Effie commanded, “no touching,”

He’d die a lucky fucking man, though. He’d let Effie herself kill him, gladly, if that’s what she wanted. Whatever she fucking wanted. He’d lay his head down on her knee, like someone would lay their head on the execution block, and he’d look up at her so fucking sweetly.

That’s how he had ended up here, with his back against the couch– in a pool house with a married woman. Not knowing or caring where her husband was. His fathers words echoed in his mind, demanding Barty do whatever Mr. Potter asked of him. Offer your assistance, his father had said.

Effie straddled him, hand around his throat and robe falling off her shoulders. Sure, Mr. Potter hadn’t asked him to do this, but if that idiot couldn’t keep his wife satisfied then someone would have to do it for him. A woman like Effie should always be satisfied. Should have whatever she fucking wanted, whenever she wanted it. He was simply offering his assistance.

Effie closed her hands around his wrists, keeping them above his head. “Will you keep them there?” she whispered, gently rolling her hips. “for me?”

Way, way over his fucking head.

“Anything,” he stuttered.

“Good boy.”

#jen’s microfics #im gonna try doing this maybe once a week to cure my writers block #ANYWAY………#i offer you…. effiebarty…..#effiebarty #euphemia potter #barty crouch junior #im so nervous to post this lmao #marauders #marauders fandom

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lightvialamp · 4 months

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january 8 - converse || @jegulus-microfic || wc: 579 || cw: mild panic attack

The morning after his mother told him that he would never be close to anyone because he didn’t know how to converse properly, Regulus called James. Heart in his throat, and maybe on the verge of passing out– he wasn’t quite sure, he listened as the dial tone gave way to the click of a phone being answered on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” James sounded as though he had just woken up, and Regulus could picture him, sleep-mussed hair and sunlight dripping into the collarbones that he knew like the back of his hand.

“Regulus?” Concern etched into James’ voice as Regulus tried to muster up the courage to say… anything at all. Panic laced through him as he realized that in trying to prove his mother wrong, maybe he was doing the opposite.

“Hey. Breathe. In and out, c’mon, Reg, it’s just me,” James soothed as a shuffling noise from the other end of the phone indicated he was now sitting up.

Regulus breathed. Settled.

“Okay. Uhm. Goodmorning. Okay, so. I know we’re going back to school in a few days, and I’ll see you there, obviously, but my mom said something about… uhm. Okay. No, hold on, let me start over,” Regulus rambled, trying—and failing—to remember what he had rehearsed in his head before deciding to just throw caution to the wind. “Right. Okay. I love you. And. You don’t have to say it back, and I know we’ve only been dating for eight months, but I do, I love you, and it’s really actually quite terrifying, and I’m not sur—”

“I know.” James’ voice came through the receiver, just loud enough to interrupt Regulus’ mess of a confession. “I know you do, and I’m not sure what your mom said to you, but you don’t need to convince me of anything. I love you too, obviously.”

Maybe Regulus actually was going to pass out. “You do?”

“Yeah, Reg, I do,” a smile obvious in his voice.

“Right. Yeah, okay.” Regulus felt a choked sob make its way up his throat, and he fought to push it down. Even so, his voice came out as a croak when he said, “I was going to tell you in person. I had a whole plan and everything, but. I don’t know.”

“We can do that too, if you want,” James offered. “I’ll pretend to be surprised and. The whole thing. You know. I would like that. If you would.”

Regulus couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at that, already thinking of the checklist he had in one of his notebooks and the seventh year Ravenclaw he might have to blackmail in order to get use of the quidditch pitch during his and James’ only coinciding free period.

“Yeah, we can do that.” Regulus took a breath. “Thank you. For. Everything. Being you. Etcetera.”

A huffed laugh from James and a quick, “Nobody says ‘etcetera’ out loud, Reg.” A pause and then a more serious, “No need to thank me. I’m so happy to be here. And you do the same for me.”

Ten minutes later, Regulus’ phone on speaker beside his head as he stared out the window, James’ voice was washing over him, something about a prank and Sirius and the blackboards in all the classrooms.

He breathed in. His mother didn’t know him. Not like his friends. Not like James. He breathed out as the new day’s sunlight washed over him.

#my first microfic attempt and about 300 words longer than i was expecting #regulus blackmailing people for james is very important to me btw #anyway enjoy #hopefully #jegulus #james x regulus #sunseeker #starchaser #marauders #marauders fic #my writing #vee's microfic #<- new tags? maybe?#god I’m nervous

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mercyreg · 11 days

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"Each other." Charlos Fic.

Short Charlos fic i suddenly decided to write !

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Warnings: None! Besides fluff!

"Each Other."

Charles Leclerc x Carlos Sainz

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Charles didn’t know what to think, He wasn’t even sure why he did it. The rain sprinkled around him as he continued his walk, a faint memory of the news broadcasting the warning for severe rain crossed through his mind. Charles felt the need for the walk, staying cramped inside was just not his style, even if it was due to the horrible weather he’s been stuck in. He kept walking, his mind lost in the unwavering thoughts of how his day should have been until they weren’t. Until he saw him.

A man that was dancing through the street, his clear laughter and enjoyment for the rain was a melody to Charles. Even though he probably shouldn’t, he couldn’t help but stare.

The slowly soaking white button up was hugging the man like it was giving lost comfort of a lover, The dark wet curls that clung to his face in some places bounced to his made up rhythm as the man danced.

Charles couldn’t help but be in a trance as he watched him, not even realizing that he had stopped walking and was now staring at the man. The man with such delicate yet carefree moves, enjoying of gulp of life he could get.

The man had got his eye, a gentle smile plastered on his face once he saw the man staring and watching. Charles felt embarrassed and ashamed to be spying on an innocent guy trying to enjoy the weather. However the stranger seemed to be staring back now, an inviting glimmer in his eyes.

“Enjoying the show over there, no?” He calls out to Charles, a heavenly accent thick in his voice that nearly has Charles weak to his knees. Nearly.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude.” Charles says, an embarrassing blush creeping to his face.

“Want to join me?” The man calls out as Charles turned to leave. The rain was now pouring down around them, both men were equally soaked as they stared at each other. “Join you?” Charles heard himself say. None of this felt real to him but the man standing in front of him was very real. “Sí.” He said, opening the gate dividing them and holding a hand out.

“You live once. Give me the pleasure of having someone to share this moment with. It’s even more beautiful as strangers, no? Dance with me. Be mí sol.” He said, his eyes sharing a story far too complicated for Charles to understand yet he craved the ending.

Charles took the man’s hand, amazed by firm and gently he gripped his in return. He pulled Charles out the very area he was at moments ago except now he had Charles in tow as he stepped to a rhythm only, he knew. It didn’t take long for His laughter blended with Charles’ as they enjoyed the rain, as they enjoyed each other.

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#charles leclerc #cl16 #cs55 #formula 1 #f1 edit #ferrari #charlos #microfic maybe?#microfiction #charlos microfic #possible part two if you guys want #this idea hit me like a train #i speed typed it out #gay #this is so very gay #might cook up strollonso

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doomed-jester · 11 months

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I like to think about what childhood was like for Ganondorf. He's born to the Gerudo, the first male in 100 years, born with a crown and a title. Born with a responsibility to his people.

The Boy King of the Gerudo, sitting in his desert fortress. He sees the plight of his people, sees them hungry, slaving away in the desert sun. He sees them shiver in the night as the cold wind brings icy death. Crops refuse to grow in the harsh desert. His people steal to survive, it's the only way. He sees them suffer, contemplates the unbearable weight of the crown.

He travels, for the first time, to Hyrule Castle. Still a boy, still in the care of Kotake and Koume, flanked by horseback warrior women. He sees the fear in the people's eyes as he rides through Castle Town. Hears their whispers, "thieves," they say, "and witches."

He meets the king, looming large over him despite their presumed status as equals. The king does not feel the Gerudo. The King of Hyrule looks down on the King of Thieves and his eyes are filled with nothing but contempt. The prince is not so poisoned with hatred, closer in age to the Boy King. Perhaps some day he will take the throne, and an alliance can be struck between the Gerudo and the people of Hyrule. Some day, but not today. The Boy King rides back to his home, to his desert, and a cool wind blows through the window of his carriage. It smells of flowers, of life. Some day, he thinks, all his people will know that wind. Some day.

#zelda #legend of zelda #loz #oot #ocarina of time #ganon #ganondorf #Gerudo #microfic maybe? idk

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themoon-andits-stars · 6 months

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Treacherous

The gaze they shared was intense, electric with the tension between them. Draco brought a shaky hand up to Harry’s face. He stepped closer, bringing their lips close together. Harry’s eyes fluttered closed and his mouth parted slightly as Draco began to close the distance between them.

But their lips never touched. Harry opened his eyes to meet Draco’s heavy lidded ones. He could focus on nothing else but the man in front of him, feel nothing but Draco’s warm breath against his lips, and he knew this was an awful idea. He shouldn’t even feel this way. He’d be smart to walk away, but then Draco’s hands found their way to the hem of Harry’s shirt, and they slowly worked their way under.

Draco’s chilled hands against the warm skin of Harry’s abdomen caused Harry’s breath to hitch slightly. He should stop this now, whatever this was. Before Harry could do anything, Draco had him pushed against the wall, crashing their lips together.

This, whatever this was, was electric, and Harry could feel it in every part of his body. He was practically shaking with it, bringing his hands to work their way through Draco’s hair.

And maybe this was a bad idea, but Harry had always liked those.

———

Where are my fellow Drarry loving Swifties??

This is a bit more intense than i’m used to so please bear with me!! much love to y’all<3

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anticomedygarden · 1 year

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wolf

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tw: blood and injury

sequel

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"Fuck, fuck, motherfucking christ, jesus, fuck," Sirius muttered as he tore off his steaming shirt and pants and tried to ignore the frankly disturbing sounds coming from outside.

The young man had just gotten home after a 16-hour shift at the hospital, and he was not in the fucking mood. As soon as he'd gotten home, he sped through a shower, changed into pajamas, and heated up some leftover soup James had sent with him last weekend, and all he wanted was to eat and watch some mindless TV, and that was exactly what he had been about to do, at least until something made a loud crashing sound outside, and he flinched so badly that he spilled his hot soup all over himself.

Now his thighs and stomach were burning, his clothes were unwearable, the couch was ruined, there was soup everywhere, and some-animal-or something was probably dying from blunt force trauma in his front yard. Fuck.

He sighed and walked into the laundry room. Doctors didn’t need sleep, right?

Once he found a shirt and old football shorts good enough for his own front yard at 5:30 in the morning on a Wednesday, the strange noises had mostly stopped, and Sirius deemed it safe enough to venture outside. After all, if he didn't, one of his neighbors would, and that could only result in a call from the commonhold.

Walking toward the front door, he wondered idly if the sun was out yet. As an ER doctor who often worked overtime, he missed the sunrise and sunset most days, and his thick curtains rarely let any light in, a so far unsuccessful strategy to combat his insomnia.

The sun was not out. It was dark as fuck. He tripped on a rock.

"I hope you're happy with yourself," he muttered, even as he clearly saw absolutely nothing in the yard. Groaning, he walked around to the side of the house and stopped short.

There was trash everywhere. The garbage bins were completely overturned, old food was strewn across the lawn, and the bin lids had rolled into the neighbor's property. Christ, this would take hours to clean up.

Just as he was setting the lids back on his side of the property line, he heard a thud and a low moan.

With one last mournful look at his front door, Sirius traipsed into the backyard, and got his third shock of the morning.

A massive grey wolf was laying sprawled out in his bushes, blood from a dozen wounds leaking sluggishly into the dirt. Immediately, Sirius snapped into ER mode.

First, he ran his hand along the inside of the animal’s inner thigh until he found a pulse - slow, but definitely there. Then, he checked quickly for any head, neck, or back injuries, and finding none, carefully lifted the thing in his arms, wincing at the feeling of blood on his bare skin. He stumbled to the back door, staggering under the weight of the easily 200 lb canine. The door swung open easily which meant he forgot to lock it again, but within two minutes, Sirius was setting the wolf down on the cement floor of his basement.

Next, he ran upstairs and grabbed his emergency medical bag and ran back downstairs, then ran back upstairs when he remembered that wounds on dogs should be cleaned with water, not disinfectant, and got several wet towels.

When he made it back downstairs, he quickly knelt and started taking stock of the injuries. They all seemed to be surface level claw marks with what looked like large bite marks here and there, nothing deep but several long and still bleeding.

“All right, bud, I’m gonna start cleaning some of these scratches,” Sirius told the dog, a habit he’d picked from one of his instructors. The wolf didn’t give any sign of awareness, not even when he touched the wet cloth to the biggest scratch on the animal’s back. “Something really got you good, huh, buddy?”

He continued cleaning the wounds and eventually moved onto bandages until the wolf’s whole abdomen as well as a hind leg were all wrapped up. Sirius would still have to get the animal seen by a vet, but for now, it would do.

He moved to stand but stopped when the wolf gave an absolutely pitiful whine and turned its snout toward Sirius. It whined again.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered, rubbing the animal behind the ears. “Good morning.”

Suddenly, the animal’s eyes opened wide, revealing beautiful amber orbs, and the thing fucking screamed. Horrified, Sirius fell backward, and there was nothing he could do but watch as the wolf writhed on the floor, and, as if that wasn’t enough, its fur started disappearing, pulled back into what looked like golden-tan human skin. The elongated snout retreated to form a normal human nose, the ears shrank, leading into matted light brown curls, and the clawed paws turned into human hands, stained with blood, and then Sirius was looking at a fully grown human man.

“What the fuck?”

-

word count: 843 @wolfstarmicrofic

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static-radio-ao3 · 3 months

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regulus getting scolded the morning after hooking up with his ex? embarrassing. regulus getting scolded the morning after hooking up with his ex by barty? infinitely worse.

#wanted to write a part two to the messy exes microfic but i am so tired #bc i've been going to sleep so late and it's genuinely been making me feel awful #so just tossing this out here for now but i might do it later this week.... maybe.... as a reward for finishing uni work #n e ways.... sleeping now...... bye bye #mil mumbles

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ecstarry · 1 month

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microfics for you < 3

I reached a number of followers that makes me so so happy, so I wanted to do something to celebrate? appreciate everyone? I want to write a microfic 200 words or less for the first 10 prompts on my asks or comments here ✨🌟

I want to keep doing it everytime I reach a milestone here. Send your prompts, it can be a word, a trope, a setting, anything! 🤍

#i can't believe u people like my writing??#i love you all #aimee this literally all because of you #send your asks #or i'll cry #maybe not #microfic prompts #microfics #euge's asks

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sailing-through-hawkins · 7 months

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wanting, chasing

✧ written for 'suck' ✧ word count: 480 ✧ rated: T ✧ cw: none ✧ tags: cowboy au (set in the same universe as previous cowboy entry), deputy eddie, flirty steve ✧ @steddiemicrofic o( >ω<)o✧

"Gettin' real sick of these games, Harrington." Eddie glares, arms crossed. His cheeks burn and his face is red, but it's purely because all the blood is rushing down to his head because, guess fucking what? He got caught by a damn trap and now he's hanging upside down from a tree like a damn dog's tongue hanging from it's maw.

"Really?" Steve laughs, leaning against the tree all casual-like, all confident, all cocky. "I don't think I can get enough."

"You say that now," Eddie squints as he rotates towards the sun, the sound of Steve's laughter so close behind him. "But wait 'til I get my hands on ya -"

"Oh but deputy -"

Eddie spins and faces the tree again but now Steve's there, his face right in front of Eddie's. His hand gently holds Eddie's upper arm, stopping him from twirling away from those hazel eyes, sharp and mischievous.

"I think we both know," Steve murmurs, his eyes glancing up at Eddie's mouth with a smirk. "I've got you in the palm of my hand already."

He should feel anger, indignation, some kinda threatened by that. But all Eddie can think about is how Steve's still wearing the bandana, the one he stole from him that night at the saloon, around his neck. How it looks like it belongs there on him, Eddie's signature black tucked into the collar of his tan shirt.

"Eyes up here, Munson."

His eyes do flick up and he stares at the golden glow of Steve's smile, soft and sweet. Without a single thought in his damn head, he uncrosses his arms and reaches out, fingers ghosting over his lips. Steve inhales and before Eddie can blink, he's somehow pulled Eddie's glove off with his own damn teeth and ah fuck.

"Yer a terrible man," Eddie grumbles half-heartedly, as Steve spits out his glove onto the ground.

With a chuckle, Steve presses a kiss to Eddie's fingers. "And you just can't get enough."

"Maybe I have," Eddie says weakly (they both know he'd never). "Maybe I've decided I've had enough, 'n it's time to start chasin' other -"

He hisses when teeth almost pierce his thumb, low-lidded eyes staring him down, warning his running tongue.

"You ain't chasin' nobody else, deputy," Steve gently sucks at the skin where he bit Eddie, something of an apology, but his eyes, dark in the shade of the tree, tell Eddie it's more of a promise. "'S you 'n me, end of the line."

"Ha," Eddie clears his throat. "Anyone would think you had somethin' to claim here."

"Somethin'," Steve pulls Eddie's hand out and just barely grazes the air Eddie breathes with his lips. "Someone."

And with that, Eddie's on the ground, a throbbing echoing in his skull, staring up at the man above him, who winks and runs out of his sight, out of his grasp.

#sailor✧writes #steddie #microfic #steddiemicrofic #writing #au content: cowboys #I'VE DONE IT AGAIN #i hope it's cool that this is set in the same universe and kind of references my previous cowboy entry #i just felt like the dialogue callback was too perfect not to use #i'm on a possessive steve kick too which has been fun #i enjoy this au a lot and i'm hoping to maybe write something for rockie in it at some point

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