#ANYWAY NOW THAT I'VE WRITTEN A NOVEL IN THE TAGS--

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Fic Author Self-Rec

I was tagged by @qqueenofhades mwah dear!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love. ❤

I know what I would pick for the five if I was being fully honest - it's the same five I've repeatedly picked before (Reincarnation AU, Hades!Buck AU, Zombie Apocalypse AU, Ghost!Buck AU, and Hades!Eddie AU). But I wanted to challenge myself and pick five fics from this year, 2024, since it is the end of the year and it would be nice to look back on it.

I wrote far more fanfic than I planned (728,600 words), including a threesome collection and a rarepair (77k words for a Midsomer Murders fic what is wrong with me). I had hoped to surprise post my big Xedgin fic as a new year's gift but that ended up not happening, alas. I haven't forgotten it though and while I am now 100% focused on my original novels I promise to find time to post it.

Anyway enough navel-gazing, here are my five favorite fics from this year!

Racing with the Brakes Cut

My Fast & Furious AU that I wrote in a burst of inspiration after I was made to marathon the series with friends. I had a lot of fun writing it. There's a very particular feel to the first F&F film - a vibe of Los Angeles in the dog days of summer, a sense of desperate people living in the beautiful grit of the city, a feeling of messy found family, and a particular brand of homoeroticism, that I wanted to capture. I like to think I succeeded.

Held Up a Lightning Rod (Wonder Why I'm Struck)

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO JUST BE A FUN SUGAR BABY AU. I predicted it would be around 60k words and it turned out double that number. But I'm really proud of how I wove seasons one through four into this canon and ended up incorporating Buck and Eddie's alternate relationship into the canon. This is also a fic I posted chapter by chapter and the responses I got from everyone along the way were delightful. I think this might be one of my most popular fics, actually. I just had a blast writing it and responding to everyone's comments, it really felt like a community, and that's what fic and fandom are all about.

Connected the Dots in Reverse (But Still Completed the Picture)

This is a Ghost Files/Unsolved AU and that proved to be a challenge. How do you capture the feeling of watching a video in a written work? How do you replicate the banter and the humorous editing? I also had to watch the entire two series over again to pick what locations and quotes I wanted to incorporate into the fic, so that was a lot. But I had a lot of fun writing it. It was especially fun to get to lean into Eddie's sassy, goofy, Buck-enabling side.

The Blood Between My Teeth is My Own

I am so proud of myself that this was only 32k. YAY, ME! I love the 118 as werewolves, and it was great to finally dive into that with a fic that had a proper plot. It was fun to explore Eddie's personal issues through the lens of lycanthropy, and I enjoyed depicting werewolves as properly monstrous rather than just big wolves or slightly-transformed humans. I wrote this in the span of about 72 hours and I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out.

I’m Not Breathing Unless I’m Giving You CPR

YES I KNOW THIS IS FROM 2023 BUT BEAR WITH ME. I wrote this fic as an experiment and was extremely nervous about its reception. I didn't think most people would read it or enjoy it. But if you look at my stats page for 2023, it has the most hits, second-most kudos, second-most bookmarks, and second-most comments. I'm floored, absolutely floored. Over the last year I've repeatedly gotten really lovely comments from people talking about how this fic has affected them, and it's really meant more than I can say. Especially as I dive into my novels which feature characters who are various levels of disaster and do often mess up, or are hard to love, or who make wrong or bad choices, or are mentally unwell, it's so encouraging to know that this darker fic that I really was nervous about has been so loved.

Tagging @extasiswings @tripleaxeldiaz @peridotglimmer @givemeunicorns and @princessfbi. No pressure but I hope as this (terrible) year comes to a close you all have a chance to look with pride at some of your writing!

[soulsxng]

They were heading back from running some of the errands that had piled up when they were in Vanystea, when the sharp smell of blood hit their nose. While that wasn't necessarily an oddity in the Plains, the fact that they were passing through one of the biggest gathering areas for the packs without seeing more than a handful of other Aifaen made it stand out in a way that had brilliant red fur raising to stand on end.

Eleare's ears pinned back against their head, and they did a little circle as they investigated the smell further. In the same direction, they could smell a large group of other beasts gathered. And as they followed the trail a bit further, they picked up something more...familiar. Three scents that they had come to know intimately, over the years.

Before they've even fully realized it, their paws are carrying them toward the sources of the scent in a full sprint. When they reach the others, gathered around in an anxious circle, the inari squeezes and leaps their way through the crowd, ignoring the grumbles and snarls that some gave in response.

"Ma..."

"Mom..."

Just as they'd thought, the moment they broke through the crowd, Eleare was met with the faces of their older children-- Thelrin and Raelin. They had been knelt on the ground with their backs toward Eleare at first, but the moment they got close enough and shifted forms, both jumped to their feet and turned to face Eleare.

Red eyes traveled quickly over their forms, making sure that they weren't injured before moving on to the person the two had been kneeling beside. They could feel their stomach twist in anticipation, before dropping altogether when their gaze fell upon the third familiar face.

"Eleare? Wh--"

Before he can even respond, they're practically on top of him. Hands pushing clothing aside to get a better look at the wounds that littered the other Aifaen's body. They had to fight their instincts to growl and shoo away the healers that were already helping him, and instead gripped the man's arm tight.

"What happened to you? When did you get back from Ahnia, Antale?" They sounded angry, and both Thelrin and Raelin's ears pressed back flat to their heads, starting to move away to avoid Eleare's wrath. Unfortunately, that only seemed to draw their attention. "And you two! If your father is back home, let alone injured, why would neither of you come to get me? I swear to Bralis, Tal, if you told them not to just because you didn't want to worry me, I'm going to finish you off in front of the whole Plains!"

"Lea, please...it hasn't been long, I promise." The man-- Antale-- lifts a hand, pressing a finger to their nose despite the way their lip curled like they were ready to bite. They don't, though...after a moment or two, the harsh air around them falters, and they lower their head a bit, so Antale's fingers could run through their hair, and rub at one fluffy ear. "I'm fine, I've had worse than this. The exhaustion from the fighting caught up to me, is all."

Eleare doesn't seem at all pleased to hear the last bit, but as it seems that Antale had more to say, they kept it to themself.

"...Something happened in Ahnia-- Elyki is causing trouble alongside the coup out there. That's why I'm here, and why I'm worse for wear. I was asked to relay what happened to the heads. Warn them, and see if they can spare some help."

[sentientcave]

Masquerade

You've come to this masquerade ball to finally dispatch the man you've wanted dead for nearly ten years, but he's always ruining your plans, one way or another.

Contains: 2nd POV OC (sorry about all the blushing), werewolf MMC (sadly he doesn't do any fun werewolfy things he's just a guy with sharp teeth here), vague fantasy setting, murder attempts/reminiscence of murder attempts, a long and storied history only alluded to, what do you do when your bitter enemy turns out to be a silly little guy who just wants you to love him?, oral sex (w receiving), P in V sex, this spawned a whole ass novel and it's so so different but this lowkey holds up.

See end for Notes

~10k words - NSFW - 18+ MDNI

“My, don’t you look exquisite,” a voice purrs in your ear.

You freeze in place, glad that the mask hides the colour that springs to your cheeks. You feel like a naughty child caught with your hand in the cookie jar, an unwelcome guest at his masquerade. You thought you could escape notice, slip through the crowd of finely dressed nobles and plunge your knife into his chest at last. But he had managed to find you first. You weren’t ready. You hadn’t been to the garden to pick up your hidden cache of weapons, you had nothing but your silver hair-stick to dispatch him with.

His heavy hands land on your shoulders. “Don’t muss up your pretty hairstyle just yet, darling,” he whispers in your ear, his voice rasping like sandpaper. It’s as if he can read your thoughts. Or perhaps, after all these years, you’re simply predictable. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

You flinch at the cold press of his mask against your bare shoulder. You shouldn’t have disguised yourself as a guest. You feel defenceless, wrapped in silk and sheer chiffon, a neat little morsel delivered straight into the wolf’s jaws. He could shift in a second and shred you into little pieces, like he had threatened to do so many times before. You try to still your frightened, thumping heart, and pull away, turning to face him at last. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean,” you say, because it’s worth a try at least, but he’s laughing before you can even finish, the smiling mouth of his gold wolf mask mocking you. His yellow eyes glitter from it’s depths, watching you.

“Oh darling, I would recognize you anywhere. I hoped you would be unable to resist my invitation.”

“Your invitation?”

“Yes, dearest. All of this was for you. I knew you could not resist the chance to get so close to me again.”

“To kill you,” you remind him hoarsely.

He chuckles and takes your hand. “Perhaps. For now, a dance, I should think. You haven’t danced all night.”

You dig in your heels, trying to resist his insistent pull, but he simply wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I don’t dance,” you tell him sharply. “Let go of me.”

“You’re a liar,” he replies, spinning you into place, one hand on your lower back, pinning you against his chest, and the other still clasped around your wrist, sliding up to engulf your hand. He simply tugs you along with him as he moves, sweeping you along to the music, holding you so unbearably close. He could lift you off your feet with ease, if he chose to, and you don’t have enough power to resist. His scent clouds your mind, cedar soap and clean, animal musk, one of many hints of the wolf that dog him even in his human shape. “You forget, I knew you in your past life. Or have you forgotten that I once sat in your father’s halls? I have seen you dance.”

It was so long ago now, another life, before he was only the wolf to you, and before you were the thorn in his paw, that you almost had forgotten. You had hardly given him a second thought at first, he was just another visiting knight, here one day and gone the next, handsome, but beyond the concerns of the girl you once were. “You failed to make an impression,” you tell him sharply, although it’s not true. You do remember his yellow eyes watching you one night, though he never asked you to to dance. He never spoke to you at all.

Not until after. He saved you, of course, from the bloodbath, because he had claimed you. He hadn’t so much as said a word to you before he burst into your bedchamber, monstrous jaws dripping with your fathers blood, yellow eyes wild. You still remembered beating him back with the fire-place’s iron poker, and jamming the tip into his chest before you ran for your life.

“I knew you were mine from the first,” he continues. He seems frighteningly aware of your thoughts, as if his own version of the memory is playing out behind his own eyes. “My lioness, avenging her wicked father with a poker. I still bear your mark, just above my heart.” He presses your entwined hands to his chest for a moment. “I’m certain you remember that, at least.”

“Unfortunately.”

“The only unfortunate part,” he says patiently. “Is that I did not take you as my mate that night.”

His words lance through you like lightning, burning everything in their path. Your knees nearly buckle, and if he were not holding you so securely, you would sink to the floor in a useless puddle of silk. How dare he make you weak, after everything he’s done to you? But anger gives you strength, reinforces your spine with steel, and you wrench away, glaring at him, wishing you could set him ablaze with your eyes.

The music falters. You look up, at the musicians gallery, then around the room. Everyone watches, pretending not to, jewelled masks concealing furtive eyes and whispered words. Your own mask feels insufficient, lightweight and flimsy under the wolf’s eyes when your eyes return to him. He takes your arm, his grip tight, but not bruising, and guides you out of the ballroom, into the cold night air. The dark gardens are just a little too far for you to jump down from the wide stone balcony, and there are no stairs leading down. If you jump, you’d probably break your leg, and then you’d be helpless.

“What do you think of our home?” he asks. “Have you snooped around yet, my darling? Planned all your exits and hidden away your weapons and armour? I made sure you’d have plenty of opportunity. I know how you love to prepare.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t found them already.”

“I have been busy with other preparations,” he says mildly. “But I thought I smelled something of you in the corridor by the library.”

You flinch, only confirming that you had in fact been there, hiding your leather armour inside a large vase. “Preparations for what?”

“Your homecoming. The king has made it clear that it’s time to reign you in, or he will have someone else deal with you.” He pulls the mask off at last, setting the golden wolf on the balcony. Sweat glimmers at his temples, catching light from the ballroom behind them. He offers you a wry smile, his sharp white teeth flashing. “I’ve been too lenient with you.”

“Lenient?” you ask, incredulous. “I’ve been trying to kill you.”

“Those who attempt such things do not usually live long,” he reminds you. “I don’t often show mercy. I’ve allowed you to live free, in the hopes that you would come to me willingly, in time. Now it seems I can no longer afford to continue our little game. You will stay with me, or someone else will be sent to arrest or kill you.”

You press your palms into the smooth railing, wishing desperately that you could absorb the cool, dependable steadiness of stone through your skin. You look at him for a moment while he stares out over the dark gardens, his yellow eyes tracking movement you can’t see.

He’s always dressed in black, like a man in mourning, his black curls cropped short around his slightly pointed ears, beard neatly trimmed. He wears little jewellery for a man of his station, just the yellow-gold signet ring with it’s heavy, dark blue sapphire on his finger, and the gleam of jet buttons down the front of his tunic. You were more used to seeing him in his armour. The heavy black plate suits his brutality better than black-embroidered silk.

Silk offers no protection, no shield over his wicked black heart.

You pull the hairpin from your own neatly arranged curls and move fast, striking at his chest, but he catches your hand easily, his amber eyes meeting your fury with amusement. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he asks. “Stubborn creature.”

He plucks the pin from your hand and spins you around, pushing you into the railing with the oppressive weight of his presence. Your protests are weak and hardly noticed, but you fall silent when you feel the rough pads of his fingertips on the back of your neck. He gathers your hair up and pins it back in place, not as neatly as you had done earlier, but sufficiently.

“What are you doing?” you ask numbly.

He turns you around, still standing far too close. You stare forward, at the point where his skin meets the collar of his tunic, your eyes glued to his pulse. You wish for teeth as sharp as his own, so you could tear out his throat. His fingers curl under your chin, nudging your face up, forcing you to look him in the eye again. “Just returning your pin,” he says, smirking. “Why do you seem so flustered, darling?”

“Why don’t you just kill me?” you ask. Your hand lifts up to knock his away, but you touch him instead, fingertips ghosting over his knuckles. You know he’s capable of crushing you with hardly a thought. You’ve spent the last ten years learning all you could about him, hunting him down again and again and again with a single-minded determination. He likely could have killed you a thousand times over, if you’d been just a little less careful, or he a little less eager to capture you instead. He should have killed you. You don’t know how to stop anymore, you don’t know how to let go of the terrible anger that burns you up every time you think of him. You want him to suffer, to lose everything, to hurt the way he hurt you. “I’ll never stop.”

There is a flicker of sadness in his eyes, and it pings against your heart uncomfortably. “I never could,” he says, all traces of his smirking, superior air gone. His thumb strokes along your jaw. “I begged the king for your life. Your father may have been a traitor, but you were an innocent girl, and I do not enjoy killing innocents.”

“I’m not innocent anymore.”

“No, I suppose not. But you’ve committed no crimes that I cannot forgive.”

“I don’t want your forgiveness.” Your voice is hardly more than a hoarse whisper. You want to shout, but his hand on your skin seems to leech all the power out of you.

“You have it regardless,” he whispers back, low and intimate as a lover. He touches his forehead to your mask, his eyes boring into yours, twin suns scorching everything in their path. “And someday I will earn yours.”

“Never,” you hiss. You return to your senses and push his hands away, shoving hard against his chest. “I hate you. I’ll always hate you.”

He tugs your mask off and tosses it to the side, tired of pretense. “If you hate me so much, why does your heart beat like that?”

“I’m afraid of you,” you snap.

He laughs harshly. “No you’re not. You’ve never been afraid of anything, my darling. It is one of the things I love best about you.” He leans in closer, the tip of his nose just brushing yours. You can feel his breath on your skin, the sharp smells of whiskey and mint setting your nerves on edge. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you, and you freeze, heart pounding, face turned towards him, waiting for the axe to fall.

But he withdraws instead, leaving you to face the consequence of unrealized want. His words prick at you like the point of a sword. Love. As if he would know the first thing about it. As if he knew you.

But he does know you, you realize with a start. He made you. His actions had set you on your path, and his choice not to kill you, each time that he should have, had created the determined, single-minded, furious woman that you had become. The carefree girl who you had been was long gone, dead the first time the wolf’s jaws closed around your throat. It burns you to think that he’d shown you mercy all along, that you had escaped capture or death by his leave, rather than by your own cunning and skill.

His eyes remain on your face, reading your thoughts like you’re a book laying open, waiting for him to happen by and discover all your secrets. “You have become worthy of me,” he continues ardently, pressing your hand to his chest again, anchoring it with both of his own. “I would have kept you like a bird in a cage if I’d taken you then. A pretty thing to amuse me and adorn my halls. But you are no trophy, my love. You will not survive in captivity. Even now, with the king’s sword hanging over your head, I will not force you to stay.”

“Is this some sort of trick?”

“I used to wonder the same thing. A cruel trick of fate, that my mate would hate me so fiercely.”

“You killed my father,” you hiss at him. You yank your hand away, desperately stoking the anger that has kept him at bay all these years. Each time he calls you mate and darling and love your resolve quakes, and you have no sword in your hand to make him regret it, like you usually would.

“He was a traitor. I had orders.”

“And what comfort will that be when your orders are to kill me?” you ask, sneering up at him. “What will you do when your orders are explicit and undeniable, and you are to kill me on sight?”

“I’ll never see you again.”

You aren’t sure what you expected, exactly, but it always trips you up when he speaks plainly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap.

“What do you think it means?” He hurls the words back at you, his anger lighting from your own. “It means I would pluck my own eyes out before I’d kill you. If the king ordered me to hunt you down I’d stay one step behind you until we reached the very ends of the earth. If he came outside this very moment and told me to snap your neck—” He shudders, shaking his head like a dog shakes off the rain, and when he looks back at you the anger is gone, hidden away again behind his steely resolve. “Loyalty only goes so far. He knows not to make an order I cannot follow. If he truly wants you dead, he’ll ask another.” He glances over his shoulder, keen yellow eyes fixing on a point somewhere inside. “I hope it does not come to even that.”

“But why?”

He lets go of your shoulders and turns around, stalks a few feet away, and turns again, pushing both of his hands through his hair in frustration. Because I love you!” he snarls. “You had me the first day you tried to run me through. Oh I wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, beautiful thing that you are, but it was the first moment that you tried to cut my heart out that I knew there could be no other. You have no idea what it’s like, to love such a stubborn, foolish, bitch of a woman? Do you understand what it will do to me, when you leave? But I have never been able to keep you by force.”

“But you let me go,” you say numbly. “You said—”

“Let you go?” He laughs, striding back towards you. “Oh my love, you misunderstand. Just because I couldn’t kill you does not mean I didn’t try to keep you. But you have slipped every chain I’ve placed upon you. I’ve never pulled my punches. I would not disrespect you so.”

“You called it a game—”

He inclines his head towards you. “I did. Perhaps I should not have. But it was easier to think of it as a game. A test of my own worthiness. I admit, I have always looked forward to your attempts on my life. It’s good, I think, for a man to be beaten once in a while, to keep him sharp. Otherwise he forgets to be vigilant.” He sighs, touching the edge of an old, silvery scar on your shoulder, brushing a loose strand of your hair out of the way. “Besides. We’ve both made our marks upon the other.”

“I’ve gotten you more times than you have me,” you say, lifting your chin imperiously. “Two or three times I really thought I’d finished you off.”

“Are you so certain of that?”

You think about it. “Yes.”

“Care to make a wager, dearest? If you’ve left more marks on me than I on you, you may ask anything of me.”

You draw in a steady breath. “And if I lose?”

He grins. “Not so confident now, are you? I only want what is freely given, so you needn’t worry. You can name your own penalty.”

“How magnanimous.”

“I can be,” he says. “Now, shall we inspect each other here, or would you prefer somewhere more private?”

The thought of being alone with the wolf makes you shiver, but it’s not revulsion that you feel, it’s something far worse. The dark, cold balcony seems a world away from the golden ballroom with all it’s legions of beautiful, elegant guests, but it’s only panes of glass that separates you from them, hazy from condensation, opaque enough that you doubt anyone can see through them. It makes no material difference, in the end, but it’s winter, and the cold seeps through your dress easily, your skin only warm where he touches you. “Ah, yes,” you say nervously. “Perhaps somewhere more private.”

“And warmer,” he adds. “As stunning as you look, I do not believe you are dressed for the weather.”

As if on cue, a snowflake descends from the dark sky. You reach out your hand, catching it against your palm. A moment later, the sky is thick with snow, fat, fluffy flakes catching the light and turning the world white. You look back at him. He looks softer, somehow, with that little dusting of snow catching in his thick curls, melting flakes glittering like diamonds on his shoulders. For the first time, you’re struck by how young he looks. He was a man grown at your first meeting, and you had always thought of him as much older, but you know now that he couldn’t be ten years your senior. You suspect it’s much less than that.

It changes something in your perception of him. Softens him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, stepping in close again. Although you’ve hardly moved an inch since you came out to the balcony, he’s full of restless energy, moving away and back again like he’s tethered to you by some invisible string. He tilts his head to the side, his keen predator eyes practically glowing in the soft light.

You were glad your face was already flushed from the cold. “I was just thinking. You look so…” You trail off, thinking of the best way to phrase it.

“Handsome?” he suggested. “Strong? Irresistible?” He wiggles his thick black eyebrows, grinning wickedly, making you laugh despite yourself.

“I was going to say young, actually,” you say. “I was wondering what sort of boy you were.”

He holds a hand out to you. “I’m sure there’s a portrait somewhere, if you’re curious. Now come along, pet, I don’t want you catching a cold out here. I do have a wager to win.”

You hesitate. All the ancient, bitter anger and sadness wars with something new in your chest. It’s been so long since you wanted anything more than vengeance. Ages since the last time you felt deep, aching want for someone’s hands on you, if you ever even had. The obsession between you, at least, was mutual, and you had traded the excitement of romance for the thrill of the hunt, the clash of your sword against the wolf’s. His taunting sounded better than flowery poetry to your ears, and you could not help but seek him out every time the loneliness of your new life became too much to bear. He had been your focus, your centre, your reason for existing for so long that you can no longer deny what this is.

Love is not always kind. Between the two of you, it’s become a desperate, wretched thing, living on scraps of attention and hungry looks traded in battle.

His fingers close around yours, and you realize that you’ve reached out and taken the offered hand. You look at him, and he’s smiling in a way you haven’t seen before, half-hitched up on one side, almost shy.

He twines his fingers through yours and leads you back through the ballroom, slipping around the edges of the crowd like the wolf he is. No one seems to pay either of you any mind, although you feel curiously bare without your mask, as visible as a hare in a field to the eyes of a hawk. But your hunter is holding your hand, his thumb stroking over yours soothingly, like he can sense your unease.

Despite that small reassurance, you’re grateful when you step into a nearly empty corridor. A few well-dressed servants carrying trays bustle between the ballroom and the kitchens at the far end, but your wolf leads you the other way, through a few hallways littered with decorative items and portraits of long-dead nobles with eyes that seemed to follow you. You had been there only a few days earlier, but it looks different now. Perhaps it’s that you aren’t on constant guard for the wolf. He’s already here, holding your hand, pretending that he’s not watching you, just as you pretend to look at the portraits and statues and expensive looking vases you pass by, stealing glances at him only when you think you can get away with it.

The silence between you is almost comfortable, both of you too caught up in your individual tumble of thoughts to put anything to words. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. You wonder if he feels like he’s won already, but there’s none of his usual taunting or his infuriatingly handsome smirk. He looks serious, black brows lowered in a sort of pensiveness that you’ve never seen from him. Of course, you had only once gone so long in his company without attacking him physically, and you had been tied to a chair, at the time.

“Do you remember, a few years ago, the hunting lodge just above Lake Pym?” he asks.

You laugh. “I was just thinking about it. Why?”

He stops in front of a door and leans against the frame. “Do you think you’ll be able to go as long without trying to stab me this time around?”

“That depends on whether or not you tie me up again,” you quip back.

“Don’t say such things,” he warns you, opening the door and holding it open, letting go of your hand for the first time in ages. Your fingers feel cold without his touch. “You’ll give me ideas.”

“You’ve made far too many confessions tonight for me to believe that you didn’t already have ideas,” you tease. Funny how easily that comes, like you’re old friends and not enemies. A tidy little fire burns in the stone fireplace, with a cozy arrangement of rugs and furs laid out before it. A low table sits ready, carrying wine and glasses and a few plates of the sort of interesting finger-foods that they had been serving in the ballroom. Raising your eyebrows, you look back over your shoulder at him. He hadn’t spoken to anyone on the way in, which meant that it had been all prearranged.

He closes the door behind himself and leans against it, grinning sheepishly. “I live in hope.”

The room - his room- is neat, a big bed with four posts carved like small trees, green-velvet curtains tied back neatly, is the first sign that he might actually like colour. You imagined him always in sombre black and white, dark hair, white teeth, dressed like the reaper and often so employed. But perhaps he isn’t as stark as you’d always thought. His furniture is solid and well-made of warm-toned wood, and the bookshelves that flank the fireplace are stuffed with books, the odd space cleared out for knick-knacks and trophies. You had never considered that he might like to read. It isn’t something that has ever come up before.

The wolf sits down on the furs and nudges a black lump by the fire. The shape uncurls into the biggest, fattest, blackest cat you’ve ever seen and pads over to you, sniffing your skirts suspiciously.

“You have a cat?” you ask, because it seems unlike the picture you’ve built up of him over the years. Another thing you missed. You had been so focused on him as an enemy that you had hardly stopped to consider him as a man. You sit, and the cat drapes itself across your lap, purring already in anticipation of a good scratch.

“I don’t have a cat,” he corrects you loftily. “Smudge is the matriarch of a proud line of excellent mousers, and she is a valued member of the household. One cannot own a cat, I have learned. One co-habituates with cats.” He leans over and gives the cat a little scratch under the chin, his knuckles just barely brushing your knee as he withdraws. “She isn’t usually very friendly, but she must recognize a fellow assassin when she sees one.”

“I’m not much of an assassin, I’m afraid she’d be terribly disappointed in me. I’ve failed to kill my only target, and I have been at it for quite some time.” You give the cat a scratch behind the ears. “I’m sure her record is much more impressive.”

He frowns and looked at you in a funny way. “Have you never taken a life?”

“I’ve tried very hard to avoid it. You’re the only person I ever wanted dead, and I— I wanted to be better than you. I wanted my hands to stay clean, so I could beat you and still keep my sense of…” You look down at the purring black puddle of fur in your lap rather than at the wolf. “Oh I don’t know. Righteousness, I suppose.”

“So sweet that you wanted me to be your first,” he teases.

You know he means first kill, but you turn pink anyway, and there is no cold wind to blame for your rosy cheeks this time. There were many firsts that you had missed out on, in your bid for vengeance. “Perhaps I still do,” you snap, not thinking about the double meaning until after the words have left your mouth. You scramble to clarify. “My first kill— Not— Ugh.” He begins to laugh, and you cover your face with both hands, wishing the floor would open up beneath you and swallow you whole. “Stop laughing!” Your voice is muffled by your hands, but there is no way that his keen wolf’s ears don’t hear you perfectly. “That’s not what I meant!”

He snorts. “I know, pet. It’s a bit late for that, I should think.”

You peek at him between your fingers, and his eyebrows shoot up.

“Darling.” He leans over and gently takes hold of your wrists, prying your hands away. He is mercifully no longer laughing, but the look in his eyes only makes your face burn hotter. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve never taken a lover.”

“There was never a good time,” you manage to squeak out. It was half true. There had been offers, and moments when you’d been sorely tempted to share someone’s bed for the night, but the few fumbling kisses you’d shared with young men had failed to thrill you the way that crossing swords with the wolf did.

He sits back with a groan. “You’re always throwing wrenches into my plans.”

“How on earth could that have anything to do with your plans?” you ask hotly.

“Darling, don’t be so naive. My plans were obviously to seduce you into my bed so I could out-perform every man who had ever touched you, forcing you to admit to yourself that we belong together. But I suppose that would have been too easy.”

“Too easy!”

“I would never imply that you would be easily seduced, my love, only that I am fairly confident that you would have a harder time denying what we are if I were to employ my considerable athletic ability with the task of making you come undone.” He smiles ruefully. “But seduction isn’t fair if you’re a virgin. I’ll have to win your heart the old fashioned way.”

“The old fashioned way?” You stare at him, incredulous. “What, you’re going to court me?”

“I’m certainly going to try,” he says, turning toward the table to pour you a glass of wine. “It’s the long road, but you’ll find I’m usually more than willing to take the scenic route.”

“You’re insane,” you say weakly, accepting the offered glass. “You must be.”

“Must I be? Like you said, I’ve made far too many confessions tonight, you must know that I do not mean this as some passing fancy. I think it would be a waste to continue this bloody crusade of yours. For both of us. I confess my bias in the matter, as I rather enjoy living.” He shrugs, looking at you over the rim of his own glass. “Do you? Has your life been all you wished for, these past ten years? You’ve forgone comfort, education, friends, romance, children— Do you want none of those things?”

“Of course I do—”

“Then take them. Everything you want is yours if you stay.” He takes a sip of wine and winces, face screwing up like a child tasting something bitter. “Ugh, I hate wine.”

“I know. I was wondering if you were going to drink from that glass you’ve been waving around.”

“I just wanted to indicate that it wasn’t poisoned.” He sets the glass to the side, still grimacing. “Just in case you were wondering if I was still trying to trick you.”

“It had crossed my mind.”

“Perish the thought, my love.” He stretches out in front of the fire, propped up on one elbow. “I’ve laid down my arms. If you must end this once and for all to free yourself, so be it. But I do think my alternative is better.”

You set your wine to the side as well and reach back to pull the silver hair-stick from your curls. You consider it, for a moment, pressing the point into your fingertip, not quite hard enough to draw blood. He watches with an inscrutable expression, making no move to disarm you. The cat slips out of your lap and stretches, moving off into the shadows again, either unaware or uncaring of the danger to her house mate. Or perhaps she’s simply more aware than you that there is no longer any danger.

You reach out and place the make-shift weapon on the rug in front of him.

The crackle of the fire is the only sound for a long moment. The wolf was rarely rendered speechless— getting him to shut up was usually the more difficult task. But he simply looks at you, like you’ve performed a miracle in front of his very eyes.

You slide one of the plates of food off the table and set it on the floor between you, something to hopefully distract his attention a little. You pick up one of the little triangle pastries and take a bite, catching crumbs with your other hand. You eat two more, realizing that you haven’t eaten in hours, and wait for him to break the silence.

He sighs and rolls onto his back, tucking both hands under his head. Firelight dances over his skin, burnishing his features like well-polished bronze. Although you have known him a long time, you’ve never studied him like this, while his eyes are closed and his usual grin is smoothed out into a peaceful smile. He looks noble, like a hero from the epics you used to read as a girl, more like you remembered from the days before everything changed.

“You’re staring,” he says without cracking an eye.

“How would you know? You haven’t opened your eyes in ages.”

“And how would you know that, if you haven’t been staring?”

He has you there. “Alright, fine. I suppose I was. I was just thinking about… about before.”

He opens his eyes. “How long? We do have a rather storied history, don’t we, love? I myself have been thinking of Lake Pym.”

You smirk. “I bet you have. I had a feeling you were rather enjoying yourself.”

“I was. It would have been more fun if you were a more willing guest, or if I at least didn’t have to keep you tied to a chair the whole time.”

“You wouldn’t even let me feed myself,” you lament, though you can’t help the traitorous note of amusement in your voice. “It was terribly humiliating.”

“Revisionist drivel!” he snarls playfully. “I did untie you so you could feed yourself, and you tried to stab me. You forced my hand.”

You blink. “I suppose I did.”

He leans closer. “I suspected you just wanted me to take care of you. You were too proud to ask me for what you wanted, so you forced the situation. And snapped at my fingers the whole time like an absolute menace.” He holds up his right hand and displays a white mark around the first knuckle of his thumb. “That’s one, by the way.”

“I only bit you because you stuck your finger in my mouth,” you reminded him.

“Ah, I suppose I did get a bit carried away, didn’t I? There was just this moment when I touched your lip…” He reaches out as if he wants to repeat the remembered gesture, perhaps hoping for a better outcome, but he hesitates, dropping his hand. You almost wish he hadn’t. “Are you still too proud, my love?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

He senses your weakness. The way the answer drips with doubt like blood from a wound. “Will you let me kiss you?” He moves closer, anticipating your answer before it leaves your lips.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Yes.”

At long last, he closes the distance between you, hands cradling each side of your face. He just barely brushes his lips against yours, and holds you back when you try to chase him, his familiar wolfish smile lighting up his face. “Not so fast, my darling. You’ll have to ask nicely, if you want a proper kiss.” He unbuttons the cuff of his black shirt only a moment later, his eyes dropping away from yours for a moment, and then rolls up his sleeves. “Two and three, respectively,” he says, pointing out two more scars along his forearms. They were both from similar situations. Two times that you had disarmed him and made him bleed for it. You reach out and touch the silvery marks, feeling the smooth gap in his arm hair and the fully repaired muscle underneath the flawed skin. “You’re a better swordsman than I,” he says, reaching up to unlace the top of his tunic. “I might have had the edge of experience, at the beginning, but you quickly caught up to me, didn’t you? It was a good thing you were so scrupled about killing people other than me, or I’d have lost far too many good men to your blade.”

“You’re just trying to flatter me.”

“Is it working?” He pulls the tunic and shirt off in one go, baring his chest. There are a few scars there that you could not claim, and two that you can, although your eyes are drawn to one in particular. The ugly, uneven star right next to his heart, where you had run him through with the iron poker on the night of the wolf. “This one is my favourite,” he tells you, pressing one of your hands to the scar. “The first time you tried to kill me. Jon had to half-heal me himself, or I wouldn’t have made it to a proper healer in time. It’s partially why there’s such a scar. He’s always been terrible at the more subtle magics, but if you want something blown up, Jon’s your man.”

You laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Make sure you also note, in that treacherous little mind of yours, that he will not employ his considerable magical gift with the task of making me explode. He is still rather fond of me, even after all these years.”

“It is good, I think, to have a king that is so well-versed in the art of restraint,” you say mildly.

“Oh yes, I imagine it is.”

“So is it really just the five scars?” you ask. “That’s all?” Despite the truce the two of you had settled into, you felt strangely disappointed that your obsession with killing him over the last decade had resulted in only a handful of scars. It all felt like a waste. You try to console yourself with the knowledge that he heals more rapidly than most men. The scars you have left are despite that.

“There’s one more, on my thigh, but I imagine you probably don’t want me to take my pants off.”

You do want him to take his pants off. “Yes, that’s very thoughtful of you,” you say instead. “I suppose you’ve won, anyway. I have a lot more than six scars from you.” You had expected that his life as a warrior would have marked him more significantly. You’re covered in scars, faded and fresh alike, and there is no getting around the fact that you feel like you’ve stitched yourself up so often that you look as worn down as your oldest, ugliest shirt.

The disappointment in his eyes is gone so quickly that you aren’t entirely sure you hadn’t imagined it. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it, won’t I?”

“You’re just trying to get me out of my dress,” you say hotly.

“Obviously. You look very lovely in it, of course, but I have been hoping for the chance to peel it off of you.”

You shake your head. “I think you’ll be a bit disappointed.”

“Never. What would possibly deter me at this point, darling? If stabbing me through the heart didn’t erode my affections, what could?”

“Oh I don’t know,” you say thoughtfully. “I could have scales, or a tail—”

“I have a tail,” he reminds you. “And I’m quite positive that you’re human, so I’m not worried about scales. Or strange birth-marks or stretch-marks or scars, either, by the way.”

You take a deep breath and stand up, turning your back to him. “It would help if you could undo all these buttons for me,” you say, sweeping your hair in front of your shoulder. “There are so many of them.”

He jumps to his feet and scrambles to help. A few buttons plink to the floor, torn free in his haste. “I’ll have it fixed,” he says hastily. “And I’ll buy you new gowns. As many as you can stand.”

You glance over your shoulder, nervous laughter stilling on your tongue when you see the look in his eyes. You turn forward again, sliding your arms through the sleeves and shimmying the gown to he floor. He gives you a hand to steady yourself as you step free. “I— I don’t want— I won’t stay.”

He hums in response, gathering up the gown and laying it over the back of a chair.

“I won’t,” you repeat yourself, as if the words will sound convincing the second time. They don’t.

“I already told you, darling, I won’t make you stay. It’s up to you.”

He draws you back to your seats in front of the fire, and you offer him your arms. You’re riddled with fine scars, most of them faint, little nicks from his blade. His hands slide up to your shoulder and gently tug the capped sleeve of your chemise to the side, baring the imprint of his jaws. His thumb runs across the marks, his other hand landing on your knee.

“I wondered if I’d bitten you that night.” He moves closer, his tongue moving over his sharp canines as he sighs. His fingers trail down your arm as his touch drops away. “You never turned, so I wasn’t sure.”

“It doesn’t always take,” you say, using his shoulder to help you back up to your feet. “I think it depends on the moon. New moon, that night. If you were any other wolf you never would have shifted.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” He settles back on his heels, looking up at you. “I can’t say I’ve thought about why some bites take and some don’t. I’m not as observant as you, my love.”

Laughable, when his senses are many times greater than your own. It’s not his observations that are the problem, it’s the connecting cause and effect, thinking about consequence for more than a moment. He’s faced so few consequences in his life that it doesn’t come naturally to him. You, on the other hand, are a mess of consequence, action and reaction measured and weighed, failures poured over until you can see every mistake you’ve made, follow the tracks to how things could have been, if you’d done it all just a little differently.

You pull your skirt up so you can untie the ribbon that holds up your stocking, and he slides it down to your ankle. “This one’s only indirectly your fault,” you say, angling your leg so he can see the trail of pocked scars that wrap around your knee and up your thigh. “When I jumped down that ravine. Scraped myself up on the rocks.”

He tuts, hands reaching for these scars too. It’s just an excuse to touch you, certainly, but you make no move to stop him. You just hold your skirt up, giving him unfettered access to your skin. His amber eyes flick up to your face, and he leans forward, pressing his lips to your knee.

There’s no halting the soft “Oh” that falls from your lips, but he would have heard even the softest catch of breath. There’s no hiding from him, and it terrifies you, leaves you so unsteady.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment, his exhale warm against your skin. “You shouldn’t show me any more,” he tells you. “I find myself wanting to kiss every inch of skin you show me, and I worry that you won’t stop me if I try.”

You sink back to his level and pull your stocking back up, tying the ribbon around your thigh again. “Would that be so bad?”

He groans and lays back on the furs, hands neatly folded on his stomach. “I am trying to be a good man for you, darling. You deserve more than I can give in one night. I need at least a few weeks to make you fall hopelessly in love with me before I can do anything that would tempt me to take you to bed.”

You run your palm over his stomach, feeling the soft pelt of hair over his warm skin, letting your curiosity guide your fingertips. You feel the expansion and contraction of muscle as he breathes in and out, tucking one hand under his head so he can watch you more easily, his eyes barely open.

You have to admit, he is handsome, especially relaxed like this. Only a few short hours ago you would have found the idea of him kissing any part of you abhorrent, but now you find yourself similarly compelled. You take his hand and kiss his knuckles, the tips of his fingers, the palm of his hand.

“Come here, you little minx,” he growls, trying to pull you down on top of him. You pull back, and he lets go, still worried about pushing you when you’ve made so many overtures in such a short time.

You had expected him to hold on tightly, however, and overbalance, tipping over the other way with an inelegant little squeak. He laughs as he sits up, and you do too as he helps you back upright. He lays back again, and there’s no resistance when he takes you with him this time. He tucks you into his side, and you look down at him, chin propped on your hand.

“I rescind my earlier statement,” he says.

“Which one?”

“You don’t have to ask nicely for a kiss, darling. I worry that you’re too prideful to admit that you might like one, but if you can steal one whenever the mood strikes you, I might be lucky enough to receive a few impulsive ones that your good sense isn’t fast enough to stop.”

You huff. “Is this your way of asking for another?”

“It’s my way of asking for as many as you might want to give me,” he says. “There is, of course, a standing offer of anything you might like that is within my power to supply. I think it prudent to remind you.”

He’s a ridiculous kind of man. You’d always thought his tendency toward verbosity was just him grandstanding, but now you see it for what it really is. He wants to be understood by you so desperately that each sentence becomes overwrought, less clear for his efforts to imbue each word with meaning. Your own tendency toward blunt, inelegant language is an almost laughable counter. You say little, and hide everything you can, and he reads you plainly. He speaks like a poet, puts everything out in the open, and you misunderstand him on purpose.

Perhaps that’s why you didn’t see this for what it is a long time ago. If you were not so determined to make an enemy of him, perhaps you would have noticed the softness in his eyes, the way he looks at you as though you’re the sunrise and set, like you’re the moon and all the stars in the sky.

You kiss him, before he can open his mouth to speak again. There’s nothing lacklustre about the way your lips slide over his, the way your breath mingles, the way he makes little noises of satisfaction, unable to be quiet even with his tongue flicking over your top lip, encouraging you to open up for him. Angling your head to keep your noses from smushing together, you oblige, letting him lick into your mouth, his arms circling you, holding you tight against his body.

You can't put a name to the feeling that sparks between you, but it's the thing that's been missing from every kiss you've had before.

The heat, the need of it all burns away all that remains of your carefully maintained resolve. He loves you, fool that he is, and you're not sure you could survive without him now. Is that what love is? To mourn even the thought of their absence from you, to cling tightly and never let go? To sink into each other until you're one, two halves of the same whole?

He kisses you until you're breathless, lips swollen from the tug of his sharp teeth, jaw curiously sore from moving in a new way. You pull back first, braced on one arm as you look down on him. He's beautiful, more than human, wild-eyed and fey, but solid and warm beneath you in a way only a man could be. His imperfections make him dearer to you, not just the marks you've drawn on his skin, but the gap between his two front teeth, the way one brow arches a little more than the other, giving him that permanently skeptical look that had always made you feel he was making fun of you. The crooked smile, the notch in one ear.

You know his face more intimately than your own, but you still want to look at him, especially through this new lens.

“I don’t think I want to wait,” you admit. You’ve waited long enough, haven’t you?

“Are you certain?” he asks.

“I don’t see what difference it makes, really.”

“It makes a great deal of difference. I’ve taken enough from you, I don’t want you to regret it.” He gazes up at you, tracing along your jaw with careful touch.

Your heart races rabbit-quick in your chest, and although you're the one looking down at him, you feel pinned in place by the wolf's eyes alone. "Then make sure I don't," you say softly. "I can even promise not to make another attempt on your life until the morning."

"Darling…"

"Please. I don't know how I'll feel tomorrow, but tonight I think I want your hands on me."

"You think?" His fingers catch around the back of your neck, as though he's waiting for some cue before he pulls you back into his arms.

“I know.”

He pulls you down for another kiss, rolling the two of you so his big body stretches over yours, your underskirts bunching up as he slots his thick thigh between yours, pressing against your core. He holds most of his weight off of you, but you’re still trapped beneath him. For the first time in a long while, there is no panic, no desire to fight furiously for freedom. You feel quite content where you are, especially when his thigh flexes, rubbing against you firmly, sending a shower of sparks through your belly. You gasp against his mouth, your hands skimming down his sides gingerly. When he does it again, you dig your fingers into the muscle of his back reflexively, murmuring apologies as his lips leave yours and slide down your bared throat.

“Don’t,” he growls against your pulse, dragging his tongue roughly over your skin. “Don’t apologize. You won’t hurt me.”

His teeth graze the slope of your shoulder, finding the older scar from his lupine jaws. You let out a shuddering gasp when he bites down lightly, not even hard enough to leave a mark. There’s a part of you that wants him to leave a mark, a bruise if not something more permanent, but you’re not sure you’ll be able to convince him out of gentleness tonight.

He kisses down your chest, grinning up at you when he reaches the top edge of your corset. “You are still wearing far too much clothing, my love. Come here.” He stands in a smooth movement, and you’re untethered without the weight of his body against yours, but only for a moment. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the bed, taking a seat on the edge and pulling you between his knees, turning you so he can loosen the laces of your corset.

You shed the garment as soon as you’re able, as well as the extra petticoats. Your chemise is thin, loose material, obscuring little, but you leave it on while you sit beside the wolf, toeing your heeled slippers off and nudging them under the bed and out of the way. Hands folded, you wait, heart beating like a drum. You feel so strange, almost outside your own body, watching him unlace his boots and tug them off impatiently.

He stands to strip off his trousers, and you quickly avert your gaze, looking down at your hands rather than see him in his fully undressed state. You have a rough idea of what you’d find, you’ve been in the public baths more than a few times, and even doing your best to be respectful, it’s hard not to see something. But seeing something in a setting where everyone is minding their own business is a lot different than seeing something up close, especially when you might be expected to do more than just look.

“We don’t have to do this, love,” he says, kneeling in front of you, clasping his hands around yours. Your eyes fly back up, landing on his face. His chuckle makes your cheeks burn. “If you’re nervous—”

“No,” you say quickly. “I want to. I’m just— I hate not knowing what I’m supposed to do.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that darling. It’s your first time, I should think the responsibility rests on my shoulders. All you have to do is tell me when you like something and when you don’t.” He leans forward, forcing your thighs apart to accommodate the bulk of him, and kisses you, all sweetness. “And if you want to stop, we stop. Anything more than that can wait at least until the second or third time.”

It sounds so simple, put like that.

“Besides,” he adds, giving you a wicked grin as his hands move to your hips, the movement rucking your chemise up further on your thighs. “You’ve always been a quick study.”

Well, he’s right about that. His lips find your throat again, pressing languid kisses down your chest until he reaches the edge of your chemise. His eyes flick upwards, seeking permission before he goes further. You untie the simple knot with one hand, the other petting through his soft curls.

He noses aside the thin fabric to find your nipple, latching on with a contented hum. The act sends tremors down into your core, intensifying as his tongue flicks across. You pull in a shuddering breath, and your exhale becomes a whimper when his teeth nip at you, his other hand coming up to grope at your other breast, his touch warm and appreciative before his grip slides down to your hips and he tugs you to the edge of the mattress.

He pulls away from your breast and kisses you properly again. “Do you want more?” he asks. “Can I taste your pretty cunt, darling?”

The desire in his words sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, and he sits back on his heels and kisses all the way up your thigh, although he pauses and pulls back to your other knee, kissing his way up again, this time sinking his teeth into your inner thigh, not hard enough to really hurt, just enough to make you jolt, your pearl begging for any kind of friction. When he passes over your cunt to mouth at your other thigh, you whine, shifting even closer to the edge of the bed. You can feel your cunt dripping, the air strangely cool on your wet skin.

A pair of mischievous eyes glance up at you. He’s doing this on purpose. He started all of this, and now he has the gall to tease you. Glaring in response, you grip him by the hair and pull him in, determined to put his clever mouth to better use than smirking and biting you when you need him elsewhere.

To his credit, he makes no complaint and does what he’s directed, slipping his tongue between your folds, lapping up the slick arousal. His big hands push your thighs up so he can get a better angle, and he kisses your cunt with as much passion as he did your lips, if not more.

The feeling is electric. His mouth scorches, sets you alight in ways you’d never imagined, the occasional scrape of his too sharp teeth against you thrilling. It’s too good, has you fighting his grip even as your fingers are still tightly wound into his hair, holding him close. It’s too much, but if he stopped it would be so much worse.

If he minds your writhing, he doesn’t show it. You can’t help the sounds he pulls from you, but he’s louder, as though this is more for himself than for you. He groans when your hips buck against his mouth, pants when he lifts himself away enough to breathe, his amber eyes gleaming, fixed on your face, except the few times they flutter closed, just for a moment, savouring your taste.

His nose nudges your pearl as his tongue presses inside you. You grip him so tightly to your core, your hips shaking so hard that you’re surprised you don’t break his nose. The hot, molten cataclysm that’s been pooling somewhere behind your belly button overtakes you, sweeping you away, limbs seized, unable to out-swim the current. You can’t see past the stars in your eyes even after your legs relax and you force your hand to unclasp his hair, finger by finger, so you can lay back on the mattress, breathing hard.

He crawls up onto the bed and pulls you toward the centre, a self-satisfied grin on his face. His cock presses into your thigh, insistent for attention, the tip peeking out and leaking against your thigh. He ruts against you when he kisses you again, his close-cropped beard soaked with your arousal. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangy and bitter-sweet.

You lay twined together, forehead pressed against his as you both catch your breath. One hand gently brushes up and down your spine, the other pulling your leg up over his hip. “How was that?” he asked.

There may not be words for what you feel. Maybe there are, but they’re beyond you right now, washed away with all the resistance in your body. You settle on nice, which makes him laugh.

“Only nice, hm? I suppose I’ll have to work harder.”

“Better than nice,” you assure him. “I— I liked it a lot.” It’s still insufficient, so you kiss him again, hoping he won’t ask any more questions.

He does, after a long moment. “Are you ready for more?”

“There’s more?” you ask. “Or— for you? Do you want me to—”

“No, there’s no need for you to do a thing, love. The next part is for both of us.” He rolls onto his back, taking you with him effortlessly. He reaches past you with one hand while he kisses you sweetly, tongue pushing into your mouth at the same moment you feel his cock slot against your entrance. He pushes in gently, halting when he meets resistance, fucking shallowly into you until you relax enough to let him bury himself deeper into your body.

You tuck your face down against his chest, focusing on the feeling of his cock stretching your cunt, so deep inside you that his presses against your womb. He tries to keep himself still, but his hips buck slightly, tearing a groan from your chest. There’s no stopping the way your cunt squeezes down on him in response, nor the way your hips grind against him. He makes a choked sound, breathing out shakily when you push yourself up to look at him.

The angle change nearly has you collapsing back down, but he takes pity on you and flips you both so he can take the lead. “Hello, pretty thing,” he says, giving you another kiss and a firm grind into you before he starts moving his hips, slowly working himself in and out of your cunt, lips settling against your ear so he could tell you how well you’re taking him, how good you feel around his cock.

Any ability to respond is quickly fucked out of you, your breath punched out with every deep thrust, your world shrinking down to a handful of sensations: his lips on your ear, the weight of his body and the delicious drag of his cock against your inner walls.

He works his hand between you to rub at your pearl, the heel of his hand pressing down on your lower belly. The thought that he can feel himself inside you with your hand is one of the last fully formed ones that cross your mind, because he growls and picks up the pace, unrelenting until you’re shaking and babbling and clinging so tightly to him that you’re certain you’ll leave permanent marks.

He drags you up another precipice and throws you over, his forehead pressed to yours, watching your face as you shake and cry out. He ruts into you, and you can feel him fill your cunt, his cock twitching, rooted firmly inside you. He doesn’t pull away, just throws himself onto his back, holding you tight to his chest.

His heart beats like a drum under your ear, slowing gradually as he catches his breath. His cock slips free, and you stiffen slightly as his spend leaks from your swollen cunt, spilling onto his belly. He pops his head up as soon as you tense, and huffs out a laugh, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Sex can be a bit messy. Come on, love. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Your legs wobble when you try to stand, but he happily slides a supportive arm around your waist, leading you into the adjoining tap room. Once you’re both cleaned up, he coaxes you out of your sweat-soaked chemise and wraps you in one of his shirts and you both sit back down in front of the fire.

You pick up your abandoned wine glass, holding it with both hands as you eye the wolf. He looks content, satiated, like he’s had his fill of you. There’s a little tremor of unease that settles in your belly. Now that the chase is over, will he still want you? Do you still want him to want you? At the beginning of the evening you had been determined to kill him, and now…

He looks back at you through half-closed eyes, and unfurls his arm. “You’re too far away,” he tells you, voice a warm purr. “And you’re thinking too much.”

It’s still unfair, how easily he reads you. An open book, pages left open for him to flip through at his leisure. Despite your trepidation, you walk forward on your knees and sit against him, knees tucked under his arm. His fingertips trail up your thigh, over your knee, down your calf, and back, over and over, as he waits for you to speak.

“What happens now?” you ask at last. “Do we go our separate ways?”

Hurt flashes across his face before he can hide it behind a neutral mask. “If that’s what you want.” His fingers continue retreading their path while silence builds between the two of you. At last, he pulls in a fortifying breath. “Is that what you want?”

There’s raw desire in his eyes, not tempered in the least by your coupling. He offers you everything so easily that it feels like it must be a trick, but he wouldn’t work so hard to hide his feelings if he didn’t care for you, if this were a trap. If you stay, it has to be your choice, not made because of his own want for you to remain by his side.

The anger that kept you warm in all your years out in the cold is gone. Killing him won’t bring your family back from the grave, it would just place another soul in one. The desire for revenge truly burned out a long while ago, and you couldn’t admit that only embers remained. It was why you were so desperate to end it tonight, to close the chapter and look forward to something new.

It’s so like your wolf to ruin your plans. This time, you’re not sure you mind.

“I’d like to stay,” you say at last.

He’s on you so fast that you drop your wine glass, spilling red over the furs. It’s hard to stop laughing enough to kiss him back, trying to point out the mess to him. He growls something about not giving a damn as he gives up trying to kiss you through your smile, and presses his lips to your pulse instead.

In the end, with all the history between the two of you, what’s one more mess?

It's been almost five years since I started writing this short story, and I had fully expected not to finish it. I was caught up in the story in the peripherals, the potential history between Cat and Valter. This scene no longer fits in the overall narrative, even if there are still threads of it that remain unchanged, so I feel like it's safe to share. I'm working on the third draft of The Night of the Wolf, sorting out the mess of my second draft (so many changes it might as well be a second first draft) and I think there's a very real possibility that I can actually finish it, and that's in no small way thanks to all of you. I have been writing for a long time, but it's only been in the past year that I've shared my work with anyone, and it's been a really lovely experience. Thank you for reading my silly fanfictions, thank you for reading this, and I hope to share more bits of original work going forward, if there's any interest. (But don't worry, I'm still gonna finish the fanfictions. I show no signs of stopping yet)

C. T. Cutter

(Also, special thanks to my best human person @dragonnarrative-writes for making me finish this and being so so kind to me about my work and encouraging me always. I am bad at accepting compliments but I appreciate them all the same)

Image Credits: 1 - 2 ~ Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[kangaracha]

wouldn't expect a lot of queenmaker until ~christmas time, which is not what i would like to say but my body is just telling me to ease up after november and i'm hitting that pre-holiday slump so we're just chillin. we're playing a game for the first time in six months. we're doing a puzzle. my eyes are really blurry rn so i think i'll go to bed.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

#REAL!! #how is the argument that people would like female characters more if they were better written #but then alicent was changed to be better written in the show and suddenly it was #well we would like her more if she was more shallow again :) (via @claraisms)

#they are LYING #they wanted it to be black & white they cannot stand a grey area character unless it is an attractive man #they cannot fathom liking a woman who isn't 10000000% in the right at all times #and they hate female villains anyway. they wouldn't understand book cersei if dnd had given her to us they already hate show cersei #if they were given he's in the walls i am a genius cersei they would just be ableist AND sexist instead of just sexist (via @ecce-felix)

‘alicent would be better liked if they’d just made her an evil stepmother’ stupidest discourse i literally don’t believe you. i’d love her like that book alicent is my friend but people couldn’t even handle her being a bitch after half a season establishing her as an absolute victim of targaryen power and her father. even in the book where she’s a manipulative harpy antagonising her stepdaughter she’s still explicitly in sexual situations with targs as a child it just isn’t interrogated as something that shaped her. ‘female characters just aren’t as complex/well-written as male characters’ but when they are the actress gets death threats

[folkwhoredoll]

library affections - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: there are two things that you love in this world; rafe and books

word count: 0.9k

warnings/tags: none, just fluff with sweet boyfriend!rafe

a/n: hi everyone! i don't think i can ever thank you all enough for your support in all of my works :< tbh i did not expect to gain so much interaction because this blog is still relatively new but here you all are and i appreciate each and every one of you <3 this fic is another fluff boyfriend!rafe fic (is it obvious that i like fluff so much lmao) and i've written this a while ago. i hope you'll like this one! if you have a request or prompt in mind, feel free to send me a message. happy reading!

masterlist

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Being a regular visitor at the Camerons' estate has familiarized you with every corner of the house. Now, you have memorized every room and decoration, immediately spotting whatever is newly added. The Camerons didn't mind your presence, with your family being a close friend of theirs. Thus, it was no surprise that you ended up dating the one and only son of Ward Cameron.

With his father and stepmother often occupied and his sisters frequently out with friends, you and Rafe usually find yourselves with the house to yourselves, save for the occasional presence of the household staff. Yet, you've never minded.

Today follows a similar pattern. Ward left for a morning meeting, Wheezie went to school, and Sarah departed at noon to join John B's group. Surprisingly, even Rafe isn't home, having agreed to a golf outing with Topper and Kelce. Although he initially invited you to join, you declined, preferring to avoid the "boy talk" and the scorching sun. Thus, you find yourself waiting for Rafe in the living room, idly scrolling through your phone.

It's been around two in the afternoon when you got bored, sighing and deciding to stand up to walk around the house. Your feet already know where you're going when you face the familiar entrance to the Camerons' Library.

This room is your most loved spot in the whole estate, apart from Rafe's room. The vast shelves of bright book covers from different times always amaze you. If you could, you'd live in this room. Rafe has found you exploring this library countless times; even his sisters know it's the first place to check when you're not around the house.

Quickly scanning the shelves for a book, you settled upon a fantasy fiction novel, clutching the book as you made your way to a couch by the window. The first few chapters had you hooked immediately, eyes rapidly passing through every word as you moved chapter by chapter. The book was so good that it blanked your other senses, making you jump when you suddenly heard Rafe's voice.

"I knew you'd be here." He smirked, still in his golfing outfit, as he stood over you.

"Hi, Rafe." You smiled up at him, putting the book down on your lap. "How's golfing?"

Rafe plopped beside you, stretching his legs and putting an arm around your shoulder. "It was good. I got bored with Top's whining about his break-up with Sarah, so I left."

You chuckled when you saw his eyes roll, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. "They were together for a long time. You can't blame him."

"I guess." He shrugged before flashing you a flirty grin. "But I also want to spend time with my girl."

You snorted. "Yeah, okay."

"What? I do! I feel guilty about leaving you here alone." He defended.

"I don't mind, Rafe." You spoke.

"Hm. I bet you don't. But still."

You raised your brows, silently urging him to explain what he meant.

"I just mean that you were too distracted by that book, baby. I could've been an intruder, but you wouldn't even know. What is that about anyway?"

Your eyes lit up at his question; you've always loved speaking about the books you've read. And Rafe loved hearing you talk, even if he's mostly confused.

"I just started reading it, so I don't really know what it's about yet, but there's this girl, and she has electricity powers!" You started excitedly.

Rafe listened intently. He couldn't help but feel affection for you, marveling at how your eyes sparkled with passion for the story. Despite the chaotic world outside, at this moment, it was just the two of you, surrounded by the tranquility of the library.

As you continued to talk, Rafe's mind wandered, reflecting on how much you meant to him. You were the one person who could effortlessly penetrate his tough exterior, revealing the softer, more vulnerable side of him that he often kept hidden from the world. He felt at ease with you, free to be himself without fear of judgment or ridicule.

Lost in his thoughts, Rafe reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You paused mid-sentence, startled by the sudden touch, before leaning into his hand, relishing the warmth of his touch.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you asked, concern lacing your voice as you noticed the distant look in his eyes.

Rafe shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nothing, I'm just... happy. Happy to be here with you."

A soft blush colored your cheeks as you met his gaze, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. At that moment, surrounded by the scent of old books and the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the window, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

Leaning in, Rafe pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion as you returned his affectionate gaze.

With a contented sigh, Rafe settled back against the couch, pulling you closer until you were nestled against his side. Together, you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the simple pleasure of each other's company.

At that moment, surrounded by the familiar comforts of the library, you knew that no matter what the future held, as long as you had each other, everything would be okay.

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 4

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem)

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, bit of trauma processing, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings: family discord and dealing with trauma, drugs briefly mentioned, human trafficking briefly mentioned

word count: 1.7k

Chapter Selection

I thought I was a strong, independent woman. I thought I preferred to take care of myself, that I could never be comfortable relying on others. One date with Jason had me strongly questioning those convictions. He bought the books, we had a late lunch/early dinner at the food court, wandered several stores, and talked about everything and nothing. I managed to keep him from buying every little thing I looked at, but we still ended up with several bags - all of which he insisted on carrying. Even with the bags in his hands, he managed to get his pinky wrapped around mine every time my hand was down. It was clingy, and awkward to walk, and it made me giddy. Is this feeling what everyone’s so obsessed with? … I think I get it now.

Jason drove me home that night, insisting that it was getting too dark and he didn't like the idea of me on public transit alone at night. Normally I would fight him on that, but the idea of walking home from the bus stop was doing unpleasant things to my stomach. He parked, and we took several minutes to rearrange the items in our bags.

“... I guess that’s everything.” He seemed a bit disappointed.

I nodded. “Yeah, I think you're right. … Thank you, Jay, this was a lot of fun.”

He smiled softly, nodding. “I had fun too. … Can I … see you again?”

“It's a distinct possibility.” I smirked a bit. “After all, I have yet to pass judgment on your trashy romance novel selection.”

He laughed softly, groaning and rubbing his face. “I already regret suggesting that. Give it back, you can't have it.”

I held my bags away from him, giggling a bit as he pretended to try to steal them. Suddenly there was movement in the corner of my vision, and I saw a silhouette on the roof across the street. “Oh god…”

“What? What's wrong??” Jason pulled back a bit.

“There’s someone on that roof. Which one is that, can you tell?” I peered up, but with the moon behind them I couldn't see any details.

Jason turned to look too, suddenly a bit stoney. “... Looks like Red Robin and Nightwing.”

“... Two of them? Are you sure? I only see one.” He just nodded. “... Fuuuhhhck, what's happening in my stupid neighborhood?”

“Probably nothing. This isn't their patrol territory…. Or … at least, that's what I've heard.”

I raised an eyebrow, staring at him. “You've heard? … What, do they take their cars to you?”

“... Something like that. … Anyway, it's well known, this is Red Hood's part of town.”

“... You don't think they're here for him, do you? I thought they were allied now?”

Jason shook his head a bit. “Probably just trying to spy on him … nosy bitches…”

I giggled a bit at that, but couldn't help the sneaking concern in the back of my mind. If they really were here to spy on Red Hood, that would suggest he was nearby … Did he decide he wanted his shirt back after all, or was something bad happening in the area?

Jason turned to me, a gentle smile on his face. “Hey, don't worry about them. You just get inside where it's safe, ok?”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Ok, but text me when you get home.”

He nodded, chuckling, “will do. And … about seeing each other again, … how about lunch on Tuesday?”

I nodded, grinning. “Sounds good. Good night, Jay.”

“Night, Doll.” I blushed a bit, getting out of the car and into my building. He waited for me to close the door before driving away, and I headed up to my apartment.

I wasn't sure what I'd find upstairs. I hadn't told Red Hood my unit number, but it probably wouldn't be that hard for him to figure out. … Hell, the shirt might have a tracker on it.

I unlocked my door and checked every room. Nothing had moved. My clothes were still in a crumpled heap on my floor, the flannel still peaking out from under my ruined pants. It occurred to me that I had meant to pick up a replacement pair at the mall before heading home. I sat on my knees, trembling a bit as I picked up the shirt. A thorough examination didn't reveal any electronic pieces attached. It was just a normal red flannel.

I held the shirt against my chest, shaking a bit. Everything was fine. I was fine. Red Hood was one of the good guys, even if he did some really terrifying shit. I wasn't a drug dealer or a human trafficker, so he had nothing against me. He was kind to me, even. I was safe. I was safe. I was safe.

My mind slowly drifted away from that night. Thoughts of blood and fear were replaced bit by bit with Jason; his shy little smiles and cheeky grins, the feeling of his finger wrapped around mine, even the smell of his cologne. When I breathed deep I could still smell it; a rich, woody smell, with a bit of lavender, and under that was a base note I couldn't identify. Something sharp and slightly metallic. I sighed softly, deciding not to think too hard about why I was tying the shirt around my waist, and started tidying the apartment. Couldn't put the pile off forever, but I didn't have to start there…

Jason watched her go inside, waiting to make sure no creeps followed her in before the security door locked. Once he was satisfied that she was safe, he drove off, calling Dick. Straight to voicemail. He tried Tim; also straight to voicemail. Annoying, but fine. He knew where they would be headed next.

Unfortunately for them, the drive was not nearly long enough to calm him down. He pulled in to the batcave and sat on the hood of his car to watch the entrance. Eventually the pair rode in, staring at him like he was the grim reaper.

“… Heeeyy Jason! What are you doing here? Don't you have tonight off?” Tim tried to play it cool, taking his bike to its designated parking spot.

“You should be more careful, Tim. She saw you.”

“Whaaaat? I don't know what you're-”

“She. Saw. You. On that rooftop.” Jason growled a bit, clenching his fist. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to reassure her that her neighborhood was not about to be attacked without revealing too much?”

“C'mon Jaybird, we just wanted to check in!” Dick grinned, moving to pinch his cheek. “Baby Jay-Jay's first date! You can't fault us for being excited for you!”

He smacked Dick's hand. “I can and do. Don't do anything like that ever again.”

Dick hissed dramatically, pouting. “You're so mean, Jay. We just wanted to see if it was going well!”

“Stop. Spying. On me.” He growled, giving Tim a pointed glare. The younger man raised both hands in surrender and nodded.

Dick smirked as Jason opened his car door, calling out; “okaaay, but don't forget to report in to the chat. Unless you'd rather Babs check the CCTV footage at the mall for us?”

Jason froze and growled. “… Fuck….” He slammed the door shut and drove away without another word.

BatKids Group Chat:

Jason: It went well. Now everyone STOP stalking me! You're weirding her out! 😡

8:04pm

Cass: Excuse me??

8:06pm

Damian: Grayson and Drake are the only ones interested enough to bother stalking you, maybe you should focus your ire on them and not the whole family?

8:06pm

Babs: We need details, Jay!

8:07pm

Duke: Wait, what??

8:08pm

Dick: Jaybird went on a date today, Duke! Keep up!

8:09pm

Tim: With a normal human-type girl no less!

8:10pm

Damian: How normal can she be? She accepted a date with Todd after you two harassed her.

8:11pm

Cass: 🙃 … Dick, do we need to have a talk? 

8:12pm

Damian: I handled the matter at the coffee shop. (and am still waiting to be thanked, for the record Todd - the date would not have happened if I hadn't stepped in.) … But still, the girl's taste does seem questionable.

8:13pm

Dick: There was nothing to handle! We had it under control! 🙄

8:14pm

Cass: I hate to say it, but Dami does have a point - are we /sure/ she's entirely normal? There's no chance she's an undercover villain or anything?

8:14pm

Tim: Way ahead of you - background check came back clean. She's as normal as any other Gothamite.

8:15pm

Duke: So … absolutely nuts, but probably not too dangerous? 😂

8:16pm

Babs: Don’t listen to them, Jason - she's a very lucky (normal) girl!

8:17pm

Jason: You cannot be serious. You ran a background check???

8:19pm

Steph: What Babs said. Now, make with the details! 🤩

8:20pm

Dick: Of course we did - what kind of big brother would I be if I let you go out with a girl we know nothing about???

8:21pm

Jason: 😑 … This is exactly why I don't usually respond to this thread.

8:30pm

Duke: Details, man!

8:31pm

Steph: Details! Details! Details!

8:32pm

Jason: 😤 … We picked out books for each other.

8:38pm

Dick: Awww, cute!

8:39pm

Babs: … And???

8:40pm

Jason: And … She seemed a bit surprised that I was there at all?

8:43pm

Damian: Pleasantly surprised, or upset?

8:44pm

Jason: … Just … Baffled I think.

8:45pm

Tim: … How many times did you have to reschedule?

8:46pm

Jason: … A few. But I always told her with enough time so that I wouldn't be standing her up! 

8:47pm

Babs: Curious…

8:48pm

Dick: Alright everybody, recon time!

8:48pm

Jason: NO! It is NOT recon time!

8:49pm

Damian: What do we know about this girl?

8:50pm

Babs: On it!

8:50pm

Jason: No, no, NO! Stop!!!

8:51pm

Tim: Too late!

8:52pm

Jason: Uuggghh! I'm muting all of you!

8:53pm

Tim: … NOT IT TO TELL B!

8:55pm

Damian: Not it

8:56pm

Babs: Not it!

8:56pm

Cass: NOT IT!

8:57pm

Steph: Not it!!!

8:58pm

Duke: Not it!

8:58pm

Dick: …. Fuck.

9:03pm

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika 

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid

[captainkirkk]

Sorry I just wanna rant on the isekai note. There's this one popcorn read harem bl isekai I read. I expected to drop in like 10 chapters, but I fell in love with it for 2 reasons.

The battles were really cool and well written

THE ISEKAI IS ADDRESSED

The first love interest had feelings for the og soul and the new soul feels *horrible* about it. This protag can probably earn the right to go home if he 'finishes the plot'. Which has him questioning if the og soul will take his place and if so where is it now.

Until he finds out that the og soul is probably dead, there may still be a fragment of the og soul left but not enough to ever become a full person again (but enough that it's still influencing his decisions which lead him to doubting his own feelings it's a WHOLE THING) so if he leaves he leaves behind those he's grown to love (and one he unknowingly caused deep psychological pain with his arrival. HE DOES TELL THAT PERSON THE TRUTH BTW and it doesn't go down well and it takes a while to work out and I loved the messiness of it) but if he doesn't go back he'll never see his family again.

I love(d) that this book covered that cause it's so unusual! Translation's not done yet, so while I know he'll probably choose to stay cause it's that kind of novel I'm SO interested in how they'll emotionally resolve this.

Anyways, please qwq be kind I've never told anyone I read this book because it's a harem and it's an isekai but I saw such a same brain moment with the tags on that isekai post that I;; wanted to share. I hope this wasn't weird sorry and thank you

I hope you have a wonderful day

Wait this sounds really cool, what's its called?? I know when isekai stories go into detail about this !!

[weena-mercator]

narumitsu fic recs - part 1

I've been putting together fic recs for a while, trying to sort things into different categories rather than just sharing one big post of stories that are all over the place in type, length, etc. - I've appreciated all the fic recs I've gotten on reddit and in nrmt discord servers, and wanted to compile things in such a way that it makes it easier for those who are interested in reading more fanfic! while I still have decent amount of fics bookmarked on my "to read" list, i have read a not insubstantial number this year (don't mind me just rolling into the fandom nearly 23 years late - actually I really liked AA when I first saw GG play in 2019, bought the game b/c of it - & I liked nrmt but something about JFA was the turning point for me to become just totally normal about them)

anyways, i digress...

I'll start off with my favorite contenders for long (more than 50K words) canon-compliant (or mostly canon-compliant fics) - some are more dramatic and some are more light-hearted

obviously since this is a recommendation list, I may make comments about how I feel about something with a fic that you don't agree with - I only say this to point out some of my thoughts regarding the fic, not to start a hc war... and I'm definitely not trying to say "this author is wrong" or anything like that, just pointing out my personal opinion

a long way to fall by prospectkiss

this is the first long fic I ever read for nrmt and I can't recommend it enough. Heads up that this fic is E - Taking place between T&T and AJ (handwavey give them more time in this time period than in canon), this is also a case fic that majorly ties in to the plot - you've got romantic tension, mutual pining, drama, angst and a great (and spicy) ending. word count: 78K POV: rotating between Phoenix and Miles why it’s a must read IMO: I admit I am partial to getting together fics that are pre-disbarment or very early 7YG, the PINING and build up is incredible and it’s very difficult to put down but especially once you get about halfway through, it will be hard to stop! I think I read this in only 2 sittings.

the long way home by griffonage

a fic that deserves SO much more love - it is so incredibly well-written and heart-wrenching. the very beginning covers major events of the first trilogy quickly while the majority of the story takes place during the 7YG. Phoenix is always right there for Edgeworth, but Edgeworth is pretty great at making terrible decisions -including running away from things he wants deep down- and that finally takes its toll on Phoenix, whose anger is very justified. Per the tags: ??? to friends?? to it's complicated to it's VERY complicated to... unsurprisingly this makes for a pretty angsty relationship & moments that make you just want to shake Miles (and Phoenix, but a lot more Miles). This is also an E fic FYI, as far as I remember that stuff is only short scenes in a few places as opposed to like, a whole chapter devoted to it. word count: 84K POV: Miles why it’s a must read IMO: there are multiple little case fics along the way that are interesting, this story truly made me sad I wasn’t also working and exploring in Europe, Trucy!!, the OCs are very well done, it’s a great character study of Miles, and writing wise, this is one of the most well-written stories I’ve ever read among fanfic and published novels written in my lifetime

trace (vestiges) by FaultyParagon

this fic is pretty well known, and while it may not rank quite as high for me now as it did when I first read it, I do regard it highly. I don't know how much editing/beta-reading happened for it, so my one little thing about it is that the grammar mistakes happened a little too frequently to gloss over, but still not terrible (I know we all write for free but with frequent or significant enough errors, I'm taken out of the world easily, maybe that's not a problem that affects the majority of readers, idk). A mostly filling in the gaps fic that takes place from AAPW to right before DD - it's not exactly a slow burn, but just because they manage to get together earlier rather than later doesn't mean they aren't going to encounter obstacles in their relationship. This fic is M - it sort of rides that line between M and E in my opinion, as the sex isn't very graphic but not just glossed over either. word count: 225K POV: Miles why it’s a must read IMO: touch-starved Miles, again, I’m partial to them getting together pre-disbarment, despite it not being exactly a slow burn it does have quite a build up, I really love seeing Miles have a lot personal growth, especially in regards to handling his emotions, during his “choose death” year and during 7YG as well as how he is there for Phoenix and Trucy during that time

turnabout feelings by ssygir

a 7YG fic where Edgeworth requests Phoenix's help to research trials by jury, bringing Phoenix and Trucy with him to Paris - where they unintentionally get caught up in a murder investigation, and Phoenix realizes his feelings for Edgeworth are definitely not platonic. While my personal view is that Phoenix has known he's been in love with Miles for a looooong time, I can appreciate a good fic where he's just now figuring that out. Some little things about Edgeworth's characterization feel off to me, but maybe that's just me. This fic is E, but that's pretty much limited to one chapter. one small note: this fic does have a follow up, but hasn't been updated in over a year (although the author has said they plan to finish it at least! so hope is not lost yet) word count: 76K POV: Phoenix why it’s a must read IMO: it’s an early 7YG getting together story, the case fic is fun, not a total sloooooow burn but definitely builds up, a good pick when you want a more lighthearted story with very little angst

dating for a turnabout by Mikomikono

technically set in that tiny window between AAI2 and Phoenix's disbarment, Miles asks Phoenix to join him to investigate a smuggling operation at a resort - except they find out that the event taking place at the resort is a couple's retreat, and the only way to have full access is to pose as one... oh and of course Larry happens to be there too. This one is a fun case fic with mutual pining, only one bed and a sprinkling of angst among some silliness and fluff - while I wish there was a little more to the ending, it was a very fun read, T rating. word count: almost 90K POV: rotating between Phoenix and Miles why it’s a must read IMO: the author has little profiles and evidence info for the case posted for each chapter, very fun! I’m picky about fake dating stories and I think this one does it very well, and again, I really like seeing pre-disbarment getting together - and they are pining fools here, it’s good stuff

chasing history by SlatedForAbandonment

post canon, Phoenix invites Miles to stay in his guest room while he's in LA working on his PhD. Some small notes on timeline - this is where it gets a little loose with canon compliance, although the author does note that in the tags - Edgeworth is already Chief Prosecutor but currently taking a leave of absence to work on his dissertation, but hasn't found permanent residence again yet, despite this being a few years post SOJ (at one point it is stated that Apollo is 28) - I also feel like a lot of Edgeworth's behavior/reactions are more fitting of trilogy era Edgeworth, or even early 7YG... all that being said, it is a super slow burn, well-written with fun dialogue and very sweet moments as well as a bit of angst. rating is T. word count: 68K POV: rotating between Phoenix and Miles why it’s a must read IMO: even though I feel like this story would more realistically take place much earlier in canon, you get a great slow burn with plenty of incredibly sweet moments along the way that just make you melt

the catch-up game by theacegrace

post canon, Trucy is on a year-long magic show tour and Phoenix is left feeling like everyone keeps moving on and leaving him behind, while also dealing with some realizations regarding one Miles Edgeworth. again, my personal take is that Phoenix would've realized this long before now, but this story is an interesting Phoenix character study and once you get about 3/4 through the story, the situation is very tense - it's hard to not read this whole thing, or at least the back half, in one sitting. rated T. word count: 66K POV: Phoenix why it’s a must read IMO: it’s always interesting to consider that prior to his disbarment, Phoenix was the more self-assured and bold one of the two when it came to matters of the heart, and then afterwards that essentially flips for a while - now Miles has gained a lot of confidence and gone through a lot of emotional growth (Phoenix starts to gain this back a lot after becoming a lawyer again, but he’s definitely not just back to trilogy-era Phoenix)

it would feel so good to make you mine by hi_its_ellis and lowbatteryhealth

post DD, this is an unusual slow burn - both Phoenix and Miles know they're in love with each other, but they've come to an unspoken agreement on how to handle this - there's a winner and a loser, and the "loser" is whoever cracks first. honestly, another fic where I just wanted to shake them until they came to their sense, but it's very fun and sweet, T rating. word count: 54K POV: various why it’s a must read IMO: it’s tagged idiots to usdiots LMAO, so many sweet moments among the aggravation - they are BOTH moron-sexual, your honor, and you’ll want to strangle them /affectionate…

a turnabout toast by ideny

summary by author: (after the events of AJ) an estranged Phoenix and Miles respond to a friendly challenge from an unexpected source: do three things each to fix your lives. this fic is technically the least canon compliant because we of course learn in DD (and this fic was written before the release of DD) that Phoenix and Miles did spend time together during his disbarment, at the very least in Europe helping Miles research. So this is a hell of an angsty read, worth it for the story-telling despite that it departs from canon in that way. Not rated, but I don't recall anything above T rating stuff happening in it. word count: 68K POV: rotating between Phoenix and Miles why it’s a must read IMO: damn they really go through it in this one, dealing with the aftermath of the events of AJ is very interesting, lots of angst but I feel compelled to tell you don’t worry, the ending will ease your pain

Obligatory recs:

legal partners by miggy

project: matchmakers by WingSongHalo

how to court a fool in under three months by snowyrunes

All 3 of these are post canon getting together fics, AND all 3 are told from various POVs, not just Phoenix and Miles - there's a reason they are some of the most well-known ones - PM is probably the most fluffy with the least angst (and has a very cute multi chapter follow up), followed by LP (has a fairly short E follow up) - HTCAFIUTM is the slowest burn (it also has a follow up that hasn't been updated since 2022... which stinks because it did leave off on a bit of a cliffhanger and I really wanna know what's going to happen lol)

I have yet to read the highly regarded canon-compliant long fics listed below, but they are on my to-read list!

you ever been in love? by hechima

saturation by tiedyed trickster *

indefensible by zombolouge *

a brief for the defense by Ophelia_Writes * (this has now been orphaned FYI)

turnabout dishwasher by zuzsenpai

*indicates that it has not been finished yet, possibly won't ever be

If you know of any other 50K+ canon-compliant fics that you'd highly recommend, please let me know!

my other posts will be for AUs, chapter fics shorter than 50K, one-shots (might have to divide those up by theme), probably a NSFW set as well if there's interest!

[copperbadge]

Supposedly, people with Anphantasia don't get scared reading scary stories, or at least not much. Is that true with you if you ever read Horror?

You know, I'd never thought about it, but I suppose it is. To an extent, anyway.

Follows a discussion of my relationship to horror prose and media; if you don't know what aphantasia is, as many people coming to this tumblr don't, I have a tag for it here that may help -- it's basically the lack of a "mind's eye", a visual imagination, so I hear/read things and don't see an image of them in my mind. If you are scoffing right now that nobody actually has a mind's eye, congratulations, you may also have aphantasia. The articles linked in the tag will be useful to you.

I have definitely been scared by prose before but it's very rare, and not much since I was a child, when the stories I found scary were preying on fears I already had. I loved the Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark books, and I think it's not unusual that I found the illustrations more frightening than the prose, but the only story that ever scared me was the one about the vampire who kept trying to grab a kid through a window -- because I had a window over my bed in my childhood bedroom and I was terrified I'd look up to see someone looking down at me through it. Likewise, as an adult, the only content in horror I find scary is what I think of as "mind horror" -- the loss of faculty or the loss of awareness of faculty (think the end scene of the novel Hannibal with the brain). Which is one of my biggest fears.

I don't read much horror because generally I get bored, which has in the past made me feel faintly appalled at myself, but which now makes more sense. Certainly I have no interest in slasher-style gore in prose, because I find it uninteresting and it goes on a really long time, while I don't watch it in movies/TV because the visual is upsetting -- so if I was getting the visual from the prose I might react more emotionally. I am a fan of Stephen King but mostly his early work where he was shorter on suspense, and I was reading it because I liked the ideas and the characters. Carrie is super interesting because of the personalities involved, not because of the violence or the horror aspects. But I've never seen a movie adaptation and I can imagine I would be deeply unsettled if not distraught by certain scenes if depicted visually. Although I didn't find the Hannibal TV series super upsetting (I mostly was put off by how bad I imagined Will smelled) so perhaps body horror just doesn't do it for me.

This may also explain my hard-no on zombie media, because I'm not scared at all of zombies, I just find them boring and gross, and that leaves the post-apocalyptic humans. My hard-no on post-apocalypse anything is an aversion to imagining the end of my world, though, which isn't visual, it's conceptual, and not scary, just upsetting.

Like, people kept suggesting Zombies Run! to me when I was taking up running and -- well, one, I needed the music to keep my pace, I didn't want it interrupted. But two, I didn't see why a bunch of random groaning noises would make me run faster. If you could see zombies chasing you in your head, yeah, that'd probably be more motivating.

It kind of explains too why I haven't written much horror. I used to be very curious about how people worked out what's "scary" in horror prose and I guess part of the curiosity came from not experiencing it myself. It's tough to know how to write a scary story when stories don't scare you.

To be clear, I definitely experience fear. Reading Stephen King's "It" didn't really scare me, but there were scary moments in the film adaptations. I startle at jumpscares. There's plenty of stuff in real life that I'm scared of. And even podcasts -- I don't get mental images during podcasts like apparently most people do, but Magnus Archives got me with the "digging into your pre-existing fears" thing once or twice, and while I didn't finish The Left Right Game (I just got bored) the hitchhiker scene definitely got me. But I think, unless it's playing on something conceptual that already existed, yeah, I don't find prose particularly frightening.

Huh. This feels like the kind of thing that could have a significant impact on my creative output if I could crowbar my way into it. Knowing that I as an aphantic don't need descriptions that other people do has already, I think, impacted my editing process, but this feels like it maybe would somehow have an effect on the whole thing -- the fact that I don't experience emotions when reading in the same way other people do because I don't get the visuals is something to meditate on.

How the fuck did I ever even become a writer. Like what's up with that.

(Ironically it was X-Files fanfic. X-Files, a show that very much did scare me, for which I wrote and read a lot of fanfic, none of which did...yikes. Well, that's something to meditate on for the weekend.)

[hermiola]

Writer's Meme, 2024 Edition

I've been tagged by @turquoisedata 💜

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

How many works do you have on ao3?

14. 6 Good Omens + 8 MCU, but we have to go back to 2014 and 2016 for those. I also used to publish on an Italian fanfiction archive where I have 70 more fics (I went back to check and count them after approximately two thousand years and HOLY SHIT, I didn't remember them being so many! My first fic is more than 20 years old WTF).

What’s your total word count?

150.000 words on AO3. But I'm guessing it's waaay higher than that (the Italian archive doesn't show the word count 🥲).

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

My GO fics have the most kudos (given the popularity of the fandom + the fact that they're written in English and not in Italian). I have 6, so the top 5 is basically all of them:

Take a Little Love From Me (Pretty Woman AU)

Final Breakthrough (Now!) (Post-Season 2 Fix-It)

Crazy Little Thing (Called Love) (Non-S2-complying silliness)

When Hell Freezes Over (Human AU with magician!Crowley and critic!Aziraphale)

Let There Be Rock (First meeting after 1967)

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I do! I don't get that many, so it's not overwhelming, and I just like to respond. As I said somewhere else, my experience in the GO fandom has been mostly a solitary one (recently not so much though!) so I just like to interact whenever I can.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I'm going to consider only the GO ones because I feel like the others have been written by another me entirely (also I'm not sure I even remember them).

So it's definitely Let There Be Rock.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I'd say all of them, but Take a Little Love From has a proper epilogue and everything. I guess their happiness has more space there than elsewhere.

Do you write crossovers?

I have in the past, but not anymore.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not that I know of.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not really. I LOOOOVE reading smut (especially in those chonky slow burn fics), but I can't bring myself to write explicit smut for some reason. I love describing the tension and the heat of the moment (I love UST so much I'm going to marry it tbh - like nothing makes me happier/hornier than two people who want to fuck each other but can't for some reason - am I edging myself? IDK) but when it comes to my own writing I feel like spelling out the details just ruins the moment. I do think it's my ace showing in some way. But, anyway, I read the filthiest filth so this definitely doesn't apply to reading. And who knows, maybe one day I'll try! I'm not ruling anything out.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I used to translate HP fics back in the day (from English to Italian). We're talking 20 years ago. And it's funny when you think about it, because I translate novels for work now 🤣

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, always back in the day with HP. I'm still friends IRL with the girl I wrote them with (we actually met because of HP) (this is as good a time as any to say FUCK YOU JKR).

What's your all-time favourite ship?

This depends on the hyper-fixation of the moment. I cannot multitask with my OTPs. If I get obsessed with a new one, I retire the previous one. Like I could split my life into different time periods just based on my OTPs. Ron/Hermione has been my personality for YEARSSSS, but now I can barely think about HP without cringing. Another BIG ONE was Clint/Natasha from the MCU (which explains my look here on Tumblr), but the MCU as a whole has gone a bit stale for me (with few exceptions). And now it's all about Crowley/Aziraphale - it's so bad I had to unretire from fanfiction writing after almost 10 years LOL.

(I like many other ships but not to the point of *obsession*).

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

The only one I can think of is a Clintasha Actors AU, but I don't think I have it anymore, and I wouldn't finish it even if I had.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogues and banter are my favourite things to write, and I think it shows.

What are your writing weaknesses?

English is not my first language, so my writing lacks variety I think. I feel like I have always the same phrases stuck in my head, so it's probably kind of repetitive, especially when compared to some of the fics I read. (But when I started writing my first GO fic in English I wasn't even sure I could *actually* do it, so I'm proud of myself either way!).

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it's okay! I personally would ask a native speaker to help me (if possible) instead of going the Google Translate route. Being Italian and watching/reading almost exclusively in English I know how silly it sounds when the characters start speaking your language and they're saying nonsense (but no harm done even in this case, imo, especially in fanfics. In movies, though, it's just lazy!).

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

HP, back in 2004 (welp).

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

None, thankfully. If I'm writing fanfic it means I'm in the late stage of hyperfixation and I don't wish that on myself if I can help it. Like I used to read 50+ books a year before GO S2. It's bad!!!

What's your favourite fic you've written?

Take a Little Love From Me mainly because it's the one I've spent more time with.

Tagging some people if they feel like doing it (but no pressure at all!): @beerok23 - @sabotage-on-mercury - @gaiaseyes451 - @leviosally

[obsessedtomone]

Masterlist

It's simple, because I'm tired and I wanna go sleep, LOL. (I said that and then I wrote a freaking novel.) I write exclusively for BNHA Shigaraki x Reader, but if that changes I'll let you know Unravel Yourself Before Me - tumblr , ao3 ✦ Unhinged college students end up doing really stupid shit. ✦College AU (insane) Dark(?) Romance. And smut, if you get through the plot and still have the stomach for that. ✦Originally tagged as a dead dove, but I removed that and now I'm tagging it as a rough read. ✦Read the tags and all that. It's the first fic I've ever written so be gentle. And yes, I'm aware I'm a freak thanks LOL. ✦ Everything after Chapter 15 will be on ao3 because I'm too shy to post here, I don't want everybody to hate me hahaha the fruits - tumblr , ao3 ✦Only pilot until Unravel is done ✦Highschool AU ✦Angst, Resentment, Mature Themes, No Smut ✦It's more realistic and more toned down than Unravel. No smut for this one, but they're all final years 18+ except for a few side characters maybe. It deals with mature themes and is aimed at YA Fanart (from yours truly): I was a fic reader before I was a writer, and I was an artist before I was either of those. That being said, sometimes a scene inspires me so hard, I'll hyperfixate on a piece until it's done. Most of them will be gifts / tributes / offerings to fics I really enjoyed. There's not a lot of them, because I barely have time to breathe and function, but if you see me post one, hallelujah (im not religious). Rough Night!Shigaraki - The reason my account exists in the first place. August(?) last year, I was so hyped about this oneshot fic I read, that I decided to make an account where I only post thirst art for Shigaraki and the fic writers. Then said fic writer became my friend and she pushed me to write my stupid fic, hyped me up and here we are. If you like Unravel, it's her fault. (PS. my twitter acc is kinda dead, but I posted his dick on that one lol. it's @obsessedtomone, same as here. Don't like how I drew his hair tho, it was the first time I drew Shigaraki so forgive meEE, I'm still learning.) Birthday Fanart Shigaraki - Just fanart to celebrate his bday. I like how his hands turned out. Very composition, art school paid off for something (I'm a dropout 😬)

Chokehold!Shigaraki - This is my favorite one so far. I should post all the stupid sketches I did of Shigaraki this year, because holy fuck his hair texture is so freaking hard to get right. I think it turned out very GOOD in this one. Go read Chokehold because it's really freaking good. Shigaraki is kind of a psychopath in that one, but if you liked Unravel, you'll probably like Chokehold. Anyways, there'll be more to come! I have a few gifts I wanna make eventually, so look forward to that (eventually...)

[willameena]

13 books

What’s up readers?! How about a little show and tell? Answer these 13 questions, tag 13 lucky readers and if you’re feeling extra bookish add a shelfie! Let’s Go!

this is such a cute idea! thanks for the tag, @magnusbae <3 all your recs sound awesome!

Last book I read: the last one I completed was Machines Like Me, by Ian McEwan. I'm on the last chapter of 5 Tuesdays in Winter, by Lily King, right now, and it's excellent. Machines Like Me had a cool premise, but I thought it really fell flat and got bogged down in the hypotheticals of 80s British politics, which I don't know much about to begin with, and while I thought it was cool that it explored what could have been if Margaret Thatcher weren't elected PM, it seemed like the book could have just done without that entire subplot, as the premise was advanced AI. Anyways.

A book I recommend: Fight Club, by Chuck Palahniuk. A great movie, of course, but I love the book even more and my best friend recently started reading, at my recommendation so I'm very excited to hear her thoughts when she's done. I want to do a reread myself!

A book that I couldn't put down: Unfortunately, I don't have the amount of free time to be able to sit down and read uninterrupted. I haven't read an entire book in one day in a very long time, although I devoured them daily as a kid. In a less literal sense, Revenge of the Sith and Labyrinth of Evil. I have those downloaded to my phone, in the Kindle app, and I couldn't stop reading them. Having it on my phone made that easier to achieve, haha.

A book I've read twice or more: Again, I haven't done a reread of any books in a little while :( I read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo a few times though, pre-kids, when I had more time. Now, I prefer to move onto something new. It's one of my favorites, and the trilogy is so excellent.

A book on my TBR: I have quite a few that purchased from my favorite used book store that I haven't gotten to yet! Dune is one of them, and I'm excited to start that, although I think I'll read something shorter when I finish the book I'm currently on.

A book I've put down: I don't often put down a book I've started, just because I'll either hold out hope that it's going to get better, or I'll want to be able to explain in detail why I disliked it, haha. Sometimes, I'll put one down and return to it if I feel like it is too heavy for me at the time. I did try and read Lord of the Rings when I was a kid, and I just couldn't get into it... I'm hoping this doesn't make me any enemies lol

A book on my wish list: I really want a paper copy of Revenge of the Sith! I'd like paper copies of a few other Star Wars books that I have on the Kindle app, but that one's top of the list.

A favorite book from childhood: I was such an avid reader as a child! I didn't go anywhere without a book, or two. I loved A Wrinkle in Time, the Inkheart series, The Chronicles of Narnia, Roald Dahl's books, a book called Mandy, which was written by Julie Andrews. I loved Harry Potter, but everything that's happened has left a bad taste in my mouth.

A book you would give to a friend: The Almost Moon, by Alice Sebold, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Bell Jar, if they hadn't read any of those yet.

a book of poetry or lyrics that you own: If They Come for Us, by Fatimah Asghar, I can't recommend this enough!! It is absolutely gorgeous and very powerful. I believe they have also written a novel, which I haven't read yet. Where the Sidewalk Ends, and Falling up, by Shel Silverstein, which are my old copies from childhood and very worn and treasured <3 I have a book of Rupi Kaur poems as well.

a non-fiction book you own: quite a few! Spiritual Midwifery, Birth Without Fear, a couple books about Kurt Cobain, Anthony Keidis' memoir, Scar Tissue, a multitude of parenting books, a half marathon guide book, and some books in the "Highly Sensitive Person" series, which I really recommend for those who consider themselves a highy sensitive person

What are you currently reading: I've got 1 chapter left of 5 Tuesdays in Winter, which is a collection of short stories and has been a beautiful read. I'm also working through "The Highly Sensitive Parent" and "Half Marathon, You Can do it!" which sounds ridiculously corny, but is actually really informative and helpful, because I'm training for a half marathon

What are you planning on reading next: I think either Choke, by Chuck Palahniuk or The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime, by Mark Haddon. My best friend bought it for me and said I would love it, so I'm guessing I'm gonna love it!

Soooo this was incredibly long and if anyone has read all of this, wow, haha. Thanks again for the tag @magnusbae this was super fun!

No pressure tagging: @cottonraincoat @sendpseuds @piecesofeden11 @wandering-not-lost04 @dragon-on-ice

@kenobster

@lesbianakins @tideswept @unspuncreature @sky-kenobye @betweensaintsandmonsters

@hausofroxann @kato-neimoidia

Also, a shelfie? A shelf selfie? A bookshelf picture? That's so adorable. I recently put up these shelves and while they don't hold all of my books, I really enjoy them and I am 100% taking the opportunity to show them off

[myloveforhergoeson]

ash's september 2024 reading round up

find all the books and fics i read (or didn't read...) this month under the cut with a link to the synopsis and my reviews/ratings attached :)

this is just for fun! i'm not a professional, i just like to read <3

booklist:

Summer Reading by Jenn McKinlay(18+!)

• review: this was a solid read. nothing incredible, but definitely better than some of the other crap i've read this year lol. i enjoyed the dynamic between the fmc - a dyslexic chef named sam - and the mmc - a librarian named ben - and the interesting relationship between someone who hates to read and someone who's life revolves around books. honestly i was really interested to see how this played out between the two of them, but like one week into them fooling around he begins to read a book aloud to her and the conflict is magically solved. sam just loves audiobooks now and i wish the author had done more with that. both sam and ben have goals they're striving to reach and i love that ben is able to see his through to the end, but the reader is kind of left wondering about sam's and i would have loved for that threat to have been tied up, but overall this was a cute read. my only real issue with this story was the quality of writing. there were some parts that were super cringe and were clearly written by a millennial emulating the 'how do you do fellow kids' meme that i could've gone without... anyway. i really enjoyed the relationship exploration between sam and her budding teenager brother. after not being in each others lives for a bit, i thought their bonding over the summer was adorable :) would've loved to read a book just about them tbh. neither of the main characters were the kinds of characters to write home about, but overall i did enjoy the progression of their relationship. just kind of a middle-ground novel.

• rating: 3/5 seasons of the bear that taught me all i know about cooking

fic list:

assorted works of @ceruleanmusings <3

look around your world, pretty baby

Blood Diamond; Year Four

i could always write literal essays on your work i swear to god but these two works this month really got to me as per usual. the first mickames one shot for james canon bday was so freaking adorable. i had literal butterflies in my stomach like i was there on the date with them... despite the urgency of the time crunch, which you did exellent in making it seem like it was somehow slow and fast at the same time, god i read this like three times over. mickey and james are just my favorite ;-;!! and blood diamond always hitting in the feels of course... this one in particular really got to me though. the combination of brooke's annoyance with james the last few chapters really came to a head here at the hair salon. he's just a kiddo!! let him play in peace!! and then her figuring out a way to potentially exploit his singing talent... i'll wring her neck i swear. as always tysm for sharing and tagging me in your works 😭 i could read them forever and ever and ever <3

2. assorted works of @partiallypearl/ @praetoravila <3

it's nowhere close to closing time

all over again

be my weekend lover (but don't be my friend)

can i have this dance?

lolive kissssss

you got me paralyzed

you know all my deep dish

this is such a STACKED LINE UP AUGH!! from the beginning with it's nowhere close to closing time... kogan... save me.... i love the first chapter introduction to both the characters and the setting. it's been so exciting theorizing how the story will play out from here and i can't wait to read more!! and of course... all over again with olive my beloved... i just can't get enough of logan and olive and their fucked up little relationship. jo's party chapter literally had me shitting my pants ngl and you already know im thinking of lolive on a daily basis. they're my roman empire i stg... the other three lolive on shots had me by the neck too - from the conversation with kendall 👀 to the quinceañera chapter to their KISS augh im too obsessed for my own good... and saylors introduction one shot!!! ahh!!!! you always have such interesting and well-rounded ocs i'm so jealous!!! i can't wait to learn more about saylor and their relationship with both kendall and lucy :)) macie's story too... she and katie are so adorable. i love the dynamic you've set up between the two of them as they both navigate hollywood!! obsessed as always. im up in your dms literally every single day gushing and i wouldn't have it any other way!!!!!!! <3

3. assorted works of @selangkir <3

mrs. knight one shot

girl time rush (anniversary reread🙏)

iconic work as ALWAYS!!!!!! i truly think your character interptetations of btr/side characters/ocs are so unique and bring such a fresh perspective to the story! the mrs. knight one shot, on top of being hilarious, began to expand on her pretty one dimensional characterization in such a short story and it blew me away. unmatched creativity!! lord knows she needed the j anyway if im being COMPLETELY honest. and i cannot believe gtr turned one year old this month what the fuck!! what the actual fuck!! i swear i've read all three chapters about a bazillion times. ty for being so accepting of roxy and using her as a vessel to tell your story too <3 i'd be lying if i said i wasn't so inspired by sabrina carpenter rn i already have another chapter draft of my own cooking in the google docs..... <33

4. assorted works of @inkameswetrust <3

the windowsill pt. 4

the windowsill pt. 5

oh LORD such incredible updates to this sweet story. these chapters always pack such a punch! i expect nothing less from kames fan #1... im obsessed with the continued relationship between katie and kendall in pt 4. btrtv lacks so heavy on their sibling-ness so i always love seeing it expanded on in fic! and JAMES AND KENDALL GOING OFFICIAL AOAJFOBOBGA i had knots in my stomach! you've also so clearly set up stakes and kendall's future fears it's so genuine and just real it hits so hard. pt 5 with brooke had me almost throwing my phone at the wall if im being honest. the way she spoke to kendall was bonechilling and i'm nervous yet excited for their future together <3 never stop kamesing the world needs it so so sos sooo bad !!!

5. assorted works of @naquey / @ithinkyouhealedmyheart

ghostwriter chapter 1

ghostwriter chapter 2

hi <3 welcome to the reading round up! i love your story sm i'm so grateful to be here for the very beginning of kenonnie and their sweet relationship. ronnie is such a cool character! there is so much depth and dimension to them and i love that every single chapter we learn something new about her!! from her relationship with addy and callie (who i also ADORE and can't wait to learn more about) to his struggles with his father's health... god... the amount of thought you put in is clear and i'm just astounded! the second chapter was also super cool too; i love how you took existing characters and tweaked their relationship so we could learn more about how you view the two of them. i'd never thought to write something with just kelly and rebecca - it's so inventive, just like the (spoliers lol) other chapters you've published since <3 tysm for sharing your writing with us, i'm so excited to see ronnie's journey progress!!!

[tvchi]

TVCHIVERSE: Where Fandoms Collide and Stories Ignite

Hello All. This is the formal landing page of an amalgam of daydreams, fantasies, and imitations brought to you in story/fanfiction form.

Few ground rules.

Please talk back! If you like anything I've written, have a few questions about what may happen next, or even have a few suggestions on what you would like to see, PLEASE LIKE, REBLOG, and COMMENT!!! Your feedback helps me write when I don't feel like it, helps me know what specifically you liked about that particular story, and it helps me get an energy boost.

Please be respectful. I don't walk into your house and open your fridge, go through your mail, or answer your phones. Don't come in here, especially in the comments, bullying, criticizing (not critiquing), or just being mean-spirited overall. I will delete your comments and block you.

Please, don't steal. Not only is stealing ugly, but it's also beneath you. I don't mind people drawing information from my work. However, taking my work and direct concepts of it and passing it off as your own is stealing. That will get you called out and then blocked. With that being said: Do not copy or repost my work. Do not use my work to train AI.

Please be mindful. This is ADULT content ONLY. Minors, new adults, and young adults may be depicted, but this content is for ADULTS ONLY. 18+. Please head the trigger warnings attached to the beginning of each post. Please do not ignore those, it's impolite. We're are very mindful, very demure around here.

Please be patient. While it is an ultimate goal of mine, writing IS NOT my day job. My job is very demanding and high-stakes, and when I'm not doing that, I love to be outside drawing from real-life experiences, reading, or watching TV/Flim. While I am open to requests, please try and respect the turnaround time I have to put these stories out as well as the other ideas I've had. I chose to create this page to showcase my work and push myself to write almost every day. This is supposed to be fun, NOT stressful. I reserve the right to refuse, deny, or allow myself ample time regarding requests. So please... Don't piss me off.

Now that that is out of the way. I definitely want to give some shout outs to people who had encouraged me to write. Again many thanks to @megamindsecretlair , @thecapodomme , and @vivalaorgasm . Love yall. I'm back writing again cuz a writer writes. But I've never felt rushed or pushed by yall. Just nothing but encouragement, good vibes, and great inspo. Also shout out to the entire #TerryRichmondFanfaction #RebelRidgeFanction for waking your girl up. Especially @megamindsecretlair , @hotgrlcece, @sweettea-and-honeybutter !!!

OK....now I don't just write. Like many of you, I have many hobbies some of which include: Reading, Music/Music History, TV/Flim, Photography, and Fashion. So some of my tags are:

#TVCHIVERSE - the universe where all of my fanfictions live. I will also be posting my short prose and poetry here as well.

#TVCHIsTunes - When I write, I usually write to music. My Spotify is riddled with so many playlists and mixes that I should honestly go to DJ school already. Anyway, I'll share tunes that I've been obsessed with here. #TVCHIsRunway - where fashion and fashion history live. Archival posts get reblogged. Occasional showcase some of my own fits and style. #TVCHIsLibrary - Posting and reblogging some great books that I've read. May even do some reviews. Also will be posting some things from my TBR to see whether yall have read it or not and your thoughts about it before I read. (No spoilers, if you can avoid it) #TVCHIsTV - I ultimately want to become a screenwriter yall. For real. I hope to learn from all forms of media, and the easiest for me to start out with is poetry, prose, and novels. However, I do want to be in the writers' rooms. So, with this tag, I'll post my favorite TV shows and films, speak about why I like them, and dissect plot, narratives, and scriptwriting.

#TVCHIsGallery - This tag will be me reblogging or posting art that I think is gorgeous regardless of the subject matter.

#JustTVCHI- Sheer randomness

Alright. Down to the goood shit! As I continue to write, I will be updating this landing page to include all the one-off fics/stories as well as the series that I create. I'm in the process of starting two different series at the same time, resuming another, and writing one-off stories. There's A LOT going on. Be on the look out.

Echoes of Intrigue: Prt 1

Echoes of Intrigue: Prt 2

Veiled Intentions: The Hunt, 1 Veiled Intentions: The Hunt, 2 Veiled Intentions: The Hunt, 3

The Challenge: About Loss The Challenge: About Him The Challenge: About a Challenge

My story is simple...

Anxiety

Fighting Flowers

Perceiving Genuine

Take This Cup

Unititled

Instructions on how to get on the tag list

Thank you all in advance for welcoming me into fandom and holding space for me here. I hope to build community with each and every one of you. Please expect me under your content as well.

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no mirabelle monday inutile update this week, so. tiny author infodump about the first act and of the fic below the cut (spoiler alert for the fic up to the current chapter, chapter 11) and also maybe some stuff about what to expect for act two??

this is probably obvious but i'm having SO!! MUCH!!! FUN!!!! BEING EVIL!!!!!!! every time someone yells in the comments or wails in despair i gain so much life. i'm serious about the fic tag about the story ending happily but holy hell i'm going to make everyone work for that happy ending

anyway when i was writing i was scratching at the walls of my enclosure during every chapter the siffrin namedrop didn't happen. geez it took so long for siffrin to get their canon name. why did i do it like that. (i know exactly why i did it like that)

the red formatting. i did that on a whim in the second chapter and went "hold on. if i can do that here i can do this Anywhere" and now #FF0000 is my best friend

i was struggling with what to put in the visions of the future because. i don't want to give everything away. but also i have learned from dnd that you can drop literally anything in a paragraph like that and 90% of people at the table won't connect the dots because context is everything. i thought people would get that siffrin was a star in the eclipse chapter but only a few people really caught on by then

there are a few lines and paragraphs that get repeated more than once, and that is. extremely intentional :) i will not list all of them but here are the highlights

ch1 | ch11

ch1 | ch8

ch1 | ch4

and also some lines that will be Very Fun in hindsight of act 2 tee hee

i'm currently at this very moment finishing off the jouvente chapter... i have a lot of the other chapters after that written in sections, and all of the chapters up to jouvente done (intermission and one other) but like. whew. the other party members really make this fic bangin.

by the time the jouvente chapter comes out i'll be posting the isabeau angst document. and let me tell you those two are FUN to read back to back. my new favorite pastime is bothering isabeau in new innovative ways

odile in act two is also. oh my god. i can't say it at all but i love her. i did this in curtain call but i love writing odile as a catalyst to Problems, like without her the Problems still would have popped up but she's just being economical about it. her catalyst in this fic is, admittedly, less mean, but it's still there

bonnie. smiles. i don't want to talk about bonnie yet.

and siffrin - well i don't really know who that is!! too bad!!!

i don't think i've said it in any official channels yet, i've mostly alluded to it in comments - but loop IS in this fic. slightly differently than canon though. i shan't say. i think they'd be a little different considering the situation i've put them in. still the same vibes though

anyway. act two. i said this in a comment also but it's very much structured like a novelization of a jrpg. which i am having a lot of fun with. there's a tutorial fight and everything. as well as your Typical JRPG Travel Locations (that vision of the future is Not Lying the fancy paper mario train is here) (no ff7 golden saucer though i am Sorry)

and. if you have made it this far. you have passed my test here is a preview for next week's chapter