#but i haven't finished part three of that series yet so you get this instead

[keikikait]

ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

read my other rafe series here!

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader (not au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 3k

summary: you're his safe space after stressful days in the outer banks

warnings: friends with benefits, light angst, no outright smut but it's mentioned/suggestive so read at your own risk, cheating??, i promise i don't actually hate sofia, i haven't finished s4 yet so i don't know everything, pining, soft rafe comes out for like four seconds, not proofread

a note: this is my first fic for outer banks! i don't think i slayed with this...

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

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Ever since Rafe met you a year ago, he’s gone to you after everything.

Whenever he’s angry, or stressed, or feeling downright homicidal, he comes to you. He knocks three times on your apartment door before you let him in, pulling him into your arms. Sometimes he doesn’t even knock the third time before you’re throwing the door open and grabbing his hand. It’s almost as if he steps into a portal into another dimension with the way he immediately relaxes in your presence, everything rolling off of his shoulders as he wraps his arms around you. You’re always so soft, and you always smell so good, like that expensive perfume he got you for your birthday.

You’ll hold him for as long as he needs, rubbing his back and lightly scratching his scalp with your nails, it’s the least you could do considering he pays for them every time. He just has one rule. You can’t kiss him. And it’s so hard not to. It’s hard not to grab him and kiss him while he’s thrusting into you, hand on your throat. It’s hard not to kiss him when he rushes inside your apartment, angry tears in his eyes with blood on his knuckles after losing his temper on someone. 

You spend most of your nights waiting for him. Sometimes you stay up all night, waiting for those three little knocks. You spend most of the time asleep on your sofa, hoping he would come to you instead of her. 

Sofia.

At first, he told you Sofia was just a friend, which turned into a friends with benefits. He told you there wasn’t anything serious going on, and that she was just a girl he kept around when he was bored, that she was good for his ever decaying image in the Outer Banks. And you believed him. You fucking believed him. There was a little part of you that wanted to occupy his brain, be the only living space in his head. And when he’s filling up his lungs with a cigarette or some weed he bummed off of Kelce, you wanted to be the only name that’s under his breath. 

You didn’t know the truth until you saw her Instagram post. Her account was private, but you managed to get your follow request approved on your burner account. You spent far too much time scrolling through her never-ending posts and stories, looking for a glimpse of him. You had decided to check her account while eating your breakfast this morning, the spoon clattering out of your hand when you saw her newest post.

It was a photo of her and Rafe, lounging in his new house, with the caption; ‘Soft launching an almost year-long relationship. Happy 8 months, baby!’

Your oatmeal was shortly discarded. You crawled back into your bed, cancelled all of your plans, and decided to hide away from the world until you got over him. 

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It was almost 10 PM when you heard the three little knocks.

Rafe stands on the other side, hands shaking slightly. What was taking you so long? He bangs twice more before you finally open the door. 

You hold the door open just wide enough so he can see you, keeping your hand firmly on the doorknob. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He doesn’t sound like his usual self. He sounds drained, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than usual. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a hoodie, a gold chain around his neck that glitters in the light. It feels like forever before he speaks again, eyes not meeting yours. “Can I come in?”

You should say no. You should turn him away. You were the other woman, after all.

But you let him in, stepping aside, biting the inside of your lip.

Rafe sighs, relieved. He really didn’t want to stay somewhere else tonight. Quietly, he slips past you, going straight for your sofa. He plops himself down, immediately kicking his shoes off and burying his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. You shut the door and lock it, hesitating before walking over to him, standing next to the sofa. You almost move to sit next to him, nervously picking at the skin around your thumbnails.

He doesn’t notice you hovering over him, too lost in his own head. He looks like a complete mess. Rafe is usually so put together, always straightening his hair until it’s just right and tugging on the sleeve of his designer sweatshirt if it’s even a centimeter out of place.

“You okay?” You eventually say, and you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. You shouldn’t have even let him in.

“What do you think?” His tone is bitter, but you can tell there’s no real bite behind it. He still refuses to look up, his fingers lacing together and gripping his hair almost painfully.

“Don’t do that.” You immediately say, reaching out and grabbing his fingers. “Don’t rip your hair out.”

He flinches for a moment, not expecting you to touch him. He glances up at you, his gaze meeting yours for a second before he looks away again, his shoulders slumping a little as all the fight leaves his body. Rafe doesn’t pull his hands away, instead he just moves them out of his hair, allowing you to hold his hands.

He looks so disheveled it almost hurts.

You sit down, continuing to hold his hands. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t respond at first. Instead, his thumb brushes against yours, absentmindedly. “We got into a fight. Me and Sofia.” He admits quietly. It shouldn’t make your heart leap into your throat, but it does. You shouldn’t be happy that he and his awful girlfriend are fighting.

“I’m sorry.” You say, brushing your thumbs over the back of his hands.

He sighs heavily, leaning his head against the back of the sofa. “It just… It didn’t use to be like this, y’know? We were just friends, and we were just messing around.” His tone is bitter, almost annoyed. “Now she wants me to be her boyfriend and everything is… different. And I don’t like it.”

Your eyes widen ever so slightly. At that moment you feel a glimmer of hope, that maybe he didn’t want to date Sofia, and that he actually wanted to be with you. “What happened?”

Rafe closes his eyes as he tilts his head towards the ceiling, like it’ll help him remember. “She was nagging me all day. Nag nag nag. I was trying to work, she wanted to go on a date.” He pauses just for a second to take a deep breath, his brow furrowing slightly when he releases it. “She started being a brat. ‘Oh, but you always make time for her!’” He says the last part in a high-pitched mocking tone.

“You can talk to me, if you want.” You slide your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. “You’re always welcome here.”

Rafe stares at your interlocked hands, biting the inside of his lip. He hesitates for a second before giving your hand a small squeeze. “I told her I didn’t feel like going on some stupid date, and she started acting like a baby. She said… she said if I wasn’t going to act like a boyfriend, I shouldn’t get to have all the benefits of having a girlfriend.” He says the last part with a scoff, anger making its way into his voice again.

You squeeze his hand. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

Rafe finally looks back at you, his brow furrowing again. “Yeah. I don’t want to be home with her right now.” You didn’t know they lived together.

You hope it means as much to him as it does to you that he’s staying here. 

You lead him into your bedroom, pulling out the spare clothes that he keeps here. He changes in front of you, as he always does, and you have to stop yourself from staring. Part of you feels guilty for letting him stay here while his girlfriend was at home, waiting up for him.

You start to overthink. You want Rafe here. You don’t want him to go home, especially not to her. But you don’t want to be the other woman, you don’t want to make an enemy out of Sofia. “Rafe, maybe you should--” You start to say before he suddenly grabs you, throwing you onto your bed and climbing on top of you.

“Don’t.” He interrupts you, pinning your wrists to the mattress as he moves in to lay between your legs. He looks down at you, his brow still furrowed. “I don’t want to talk about her or hear her name. I just want to forget about her.” He leans down towards your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin. “I need you.”

“You have me.” You say softly.

He shakes his head. Something in him shifts as he starts tugging on your shirt, trying to pull it off of you. He seems desperate, desperate for you and to feel your skin against his. “You don’t get it.”

You lift your arms so he can pull your t-shirt off. “You need me, Rafe, and I’m here. I’m always here.” Your expression falls, growing slightly worried as you see his eyes turn red, tears starting to well up.

Rafe shakes his head, the motion almost desperate.  “No,” he answers, his fingers tracing the soft skin around your ribs. “I need you. I need you in a way that I’ve never needed anyone before. I need to be so close to you that we’re a single being. I need my skin against yours with no boundaries between us. I need—”. He slowly pushes you onto your back, moving to hover over you as his hands continue to roam, moving to caress your sides and hips. “I need to feel you against me,” he whispers. “I need your skin on mine until there’s no way to know where you begin, and I end.”

You’ve never wanted to kiss him so bad. You reach up and cup his face, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. "You have me, honey. In every way you want. I'll always be here."

He presses his face against your palm, closing his eyes and nuzzling into your touch, chasing after the gentle sensation of your hands against his skin. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing as his eyes open again to meet yours. He presses closer against you, his forehead dropping to rest in the crook of your neck. He lets out a shaky breath. “Baby,” he whispers, voice cracking slightly before he stops, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he tries to hold himself together.

“What?” You ask softly, your hand moving up behind his head.

“I… I can’t take this anymore.” Rafe presses himself even closer against you, his entire torso pressing against yours as his arms wrap around your middle, his fingers tracing the skin of your back. “Sofia.” He says her name like it’s a curse, his grip on you tightening. “She’s controlling and clingy and demanding. I have to go where she wants, do everything she wants, and I can’t say no to anything, or she throws a tantrum. I hate it.”

“Don’t think about her.” You say softly into his ear, rubbing the back of his neck with your thumb. “She’s not here. I am.” 

“I know,” he whispers, and the words come out so close to him moaning that it sends little sparks directly to your core. “God, I know. You’re all I can think about. You’ve been all I can think about since I met you.” 

A moment of silence passes between you, only the sound of his ragged breathing filling the room until he speaks again, sounding more desperate this time. “Kiss me, please.”

Your eyes widen, your heart almost stopping. “What? But Rafe, you told me I couldn’t.”

“I don’t care.” His voice is firm, his hand moving up from your back to cup your cheek, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are dark, the deep blue practically black in the low light of the room.  “Please. I need to feel something that isn’t her against me. I need to feel you. Kiss me, please, kiss me, please—” His words break into a desperate plea, his hand pressing against the skin of your back almost frantically.

He sounds so desperate, it makes your heart ache.

You cup his cheeks and kiss him, going softly at first.

Rafe immediately melts into your touch, his entire body relaxing in response. His hands start to roam again, his fingertips tracing the curve of your waist, the skin on the underside of your thighs, the flesh of your back. He can’t stay still, touching every inch of you that his hands can reach as he kisses you like the taste of your mouth is the only thing that will save him from drowning. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip, begging you to give him more as he pushes your legs open. He grinds himself against you, reaching down to pull your panties off. He pulls away before ripping the soft purple cotton in half, shoving the remnants into his pocket. He sits up on his knees, tugging his sweatpants down, smirking at you when your eyes linger on his bulge.

He tugs his boxers down and goes to climb on top of you again when you stop him. “Condom, Rafe.”

That stops him in his tracks, his eyes widening slightly and his cheeks turning pink as he looks down at you. “I didn’t—“ He swallows hard, his throat bobbing obviously as he looks almost guilty. “I didn’t bring one.”

“Dresser.” You say. “Top drawer, by the socks. Big box of ‘em.”

He immediately scrambles off of the bed, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulls open the drawer, digging through it before finding the box. He picks up the box, his fingers drumming against the lid for a moment before popping it open. He glances at you as he pulls one out, tossing the box onto the floor next to a discarded sock without bothering to shut the lid. “How often do you bring guys back here?” He asks, more accusatory than he intended for it to be.

“Not for other guys.” You say. “You just never bring any.”

“Oh.” He seems to relax a little at that answer, swallowing hard and looking almost sheepish as he turns around, holding it up between two fingers.

He looks so handsome walking over to you, now.

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Rafe fucks you so good, you almost tell him you love him.

Your legs are still shaky the next morning as you make your way around your kitchen, preparing some breakfast. You hear him padding through your apartment before coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his chest against your back. You lean against him as you cook, reaching up with your free hand to cup his cheek.

You sit in comfortable silence.

Until Rafe’s phone dings.

He sighs, pulling it out of his pocket. He opens the message and reads it, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Something wrong?” You ask.

“It’s Sofia.” He says.

You tighten your grip on your spatula. “Is it?”

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, kissing the back of your head. “I gotta go home. I promised her a brunch date on the mainland.”

You freeze, but just for a second. “You’re going back to her? Even after what we talked about yesterday?” You turn the stove top off and set your spatula down, turning to face him.

“Yeah. She’s my girlfriend.” Rafe says.

You’re speechless. Were you being delusional last night? Did you dream it all? “But… I thought you said that you didn’t like being her boyfriend.”

“I don’t.” Rafe says, sighing. He tilts his head slightly. “She’s good for appearances, for my reputation.”

“But you don’t need her to have a good reputation.” You argue. “Just try to not fight every Pogue you see, and your reputation will skyrocket.” 

“You don’t get it, baby.” Rafe says, starting to get defensive. “I need her. Whether you like it or not, I need to play pretend with her.”

“But is it worth it?” You ask. “Is it worth being unhappy?”

“I’m always unhappy!” Rafe says. “I’m kinda used to it, sweetheart.”

You scoff. “Are you unhappy with me?”

“No, of course not.” Rafe says quickly. “Don’t be stupid.”

You sigh. “Rafe, I just don’t understand your reasoning.”

“It’s just for appearances.” Rafe says. He can feel himself getting angrier and angrier, but he has to hold himself back, stop himself from snapping at you. He reaches up and tugs on his hair again. “God, what do you want from me? What do you want me to do, huh?”

You suck in a short breath. You haven’t seen Rafe angry in so long, you almost forgot what it was like. “All I wanted was you.”

Rafe purses his lips, looking away. He takes a shaky deep breath, counting to four before releasing, a trick you taught him. He takes a step towards you, watching you flinch slightly. “No, don’t…don’t flinch, baby. You know I’m not gonna do anything.” He reaches out, cupping the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair before pulling you closer. He kisses your forehead before sighing, leaving his lips against your skin.

“It’s just for appearances.” He whispers. “I promise.” He kisses your forehead again before pulling away, cupping your face. “I’ll be back tonight, okay? Please promise me you’ll stay up.”

You nod.

Rafe sighs, lightly squishing your cheeks, his voice low and soft. “Words, sweet girl.”

You shiver, leaning closer. “I promise I’ll stay up.”

“Good girl.” His voice is almost a whisper as he pulls you closer, kissing your forehead yet again. “I’ll be back soon.”

He leaves as quickly as he entered, shutting the door behind you.

You let out a shaky breath before turning the stove top back on and continuing to cook.

You were going to stay up. You would be stupid not to.

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let me know what you think!

part two is here!

[neo-nomatrix]

Drunk words are sober thoughts

Hobie Brown x reader

Part three of the My Nuisance mini series. Find the other parts here

word count: 959

Synopsis: Hobie forgets everything he told you last night. Thank you @good-so for the inspo!!

When you woke up Hobie was gone. You were surprised you didn’t hear his obnoxious boot buckles clicking when he left. In fact you were surprised he left at all. He basically confessed his love and the fact he was Spiderman to you last night.

You needed time to process everything, make sure none of it was a fever dream. As soon as you woke up (and gathered your thoughts) you trudged over to Hobies flat. You knocked on the door similar to how Hobie always did, part of you was angry that he had left you but you would rather die than let him know he got to you.

“Hobie? You in there?!” You yell pressing your ear against the door.

As you lean into the door it opens up, he had left the door unlocked and didn’t even fully close it. You stepped into the rather dark flat and admired the decorations. He had a way of making everything look like a punk rock magazine, despite the chaos it was cleaner than you had anticipated. You searched throughout the flat trying to find him but it was clear he wasn’t there.

Eventually you came across a small box decorated with photos of the London bridge and bright colors. You didn’t mean to snoop around, really, but you just couldn’t help yourself. Inside were five things: three letters, a ring, and a necklace. You had recognized the ring and necklace, they were yours. You had lost both of them by mistake about a week ago but assumed they were long gone. As you thought about it more you realized something like that happened often, you would lose something of yours and a week later they would up outside of your door with a note attached to it.

Usually saying “You’re quite clumsy, love - Hobie”

It hadn’t occurred to you why he had found so many of your things until now.

You looked at one of the letters, and sure enough it said “You just keep losing stuff don’t you? Good thing i’m here to save the day -Hobie” You smile to yourself thinking about the fact that he would probably give you this tomorrow.

The second letter was from you. The first time you had ever told him to turn down his music. As you read it you realized how much you had changed from the first time you met him. You were so polite in the letter, the fact you had taped a letter to his door instead of screaming at him was polite in itself. After that first letter you don’t think you have ever said “please” and “thank you.” From then on it was mostly you stomping over to his flat and yelling while he stood there amused.

The last letter was addressed to you. And it was double sided, either this boy has a lot of baggage or he was really in love with you. You felt awful reading it though. You started at the first words for a while “For my Love,” until the lights switched on.

“You’re breaking into my house now? That’s cheeky init?” He smirked. God he is so stupid, and what British person actually says init?

“The door was open. I was… just checking to see no one like a robber had broken in,” you replied.

“Right, and you also wanted to make sure that box wasn’t broken into?” he replied.

You immediately set it down.

“I haven’t read any of it, promise,” you smiled

“Yet, you haven't read any of it yet,” he finished for you.

“So, about last night?” you bring up. Hoping he’ll want to talk about it.

“Right… uhm, i don’t really remember any of it? So whatever i said don’t pay any attention. I’m a compulsive liar when I get wasted,” he shrugs.

Oh. He didn’t remember anything he said. And he’s also a dunk liar. Cute. You were still slightly convinced he’s spiderman, though. He showed you the suit and the mask, which weren’t exactly replicas to your knowledge. And trust, you knew your spiderman suit replicas. But the other stuff?

The stuff about you hurting his feelings and him being in love with you? Yeah, you were almost one hundred percent sure those were lies. You don’t know why you were convinced with one but not the other. You just did.

“Yeah, of course,” you looked sad.

“But I should get going,” you said after a moment of silence.

“Right, we’ll uhm, see you,” he said.

You nodded before looking down at the ground, walking off without being able to look into his eyes.

You shut the door to your flat faster than you ever have before.

“Oh my lord,” you whispered to yourself.

Gods, if that wasn’t the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you. You didn’t even know what you were thinking, you had to be mental, right? Going into Hobies flat while he wasn’t around? And he caught you? You could never show your face again.

While you’re in your flat panicking your mind out, Hobie is filled with anxiety. He’s racking his brain trying to remember what happened last night and why he woke up in your bed. Did he say something horrible? Did he confess his deepest secrets to you? The answer was yes, but he didn’t know that yet. He only left early because Miguel had pinged his watch with some stupid mission.

“The fate of the multiverse is at stake,” or something like that.

He knew he had to talk to you again. Picking up the box he pulled out the ring. Admiring the way it glimmered in the fluorescent lights.

Throwing away the note that came with it, he knew exactly how to start a conversation.

Taglist!! @clown420cunt @good-so @anonima-2 @gh0stsp1d3r @miracleboylene @natthernandez @frenchbaddie @loislucky @juo6uvr @gaychaosgremlin @skiedrr @the-golden-goldie @hellok1ttycake @theleftkittycollection @xbl00dy-r0s3x @diamondroxypie

[wisteria-beach]

Time after time | R.C

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: When your boyfriend ditches you on the night of senior prom you end up running into the last person you would ever expect to see, Rafe Cameron, your best friends older brother who you haven't seen since he left for college three years ago…

Originally posted: 06/05/2023

Series Masterlist | Part two

_________

The sidewalk was cold, hard and uncomfortable to sit on but you barely felt it, too consumed by the swirl of unrelenting emotions threatening to overtake you. It was supposed to be the best - the most magical night of your life but instead it had been one long disaster.

Salty tears stung your eyes and made your phone screen blurry as you read the text response from your mom “sorry sweetie, I had to cover someone’s shift, can you get a ride home with Sarah?”

You swallowed and the action felt like glass in your throat “sure” you text back “see you later” as you thought about the fact that Sarah had already left, speeding off in Topper's shiny jeep with a smile brighter than the stars. 

She was happy, her prom had been perfect. Her date had shown up, bought her a corsage, danced with her all night long, all things that you couldn’t say had happened to you. And though you’d tried to have fun dancing with your friends the night had been ruined before it even began with your boyfriend's words swirling through your brain “Listen I just have better things to do than going to a stupid high school prom okay? I'll make it up to you.” 

That was what you got for dating a college guy… ”stupid high school prom” but it hadn’t felt stupid to you, you’d been dreaming of this day for what felt like your whole life. You had a binder full of dress ideas before you’d even finished middle school and dreams in your head about the perfect night with the perfect date. Josh had seemed like that guy, tall, a little older, handsome and sweet (only when he wanted something, your mind supplied in hindsight) but he’d ditched you after promising he’d be there and he hadn’t even bothered to tell you until the day of. 

A burst of anger swept through you knocking the air from your lungs and you swiped the tears from your cheeks as you unblocked your phone, pulling up his contact and hitting “block”. He’d known what this night meant to you and if he wanted to put a stupid frat party over you then you were done. 

You felt a strange mixture of sadness and relief as you saw his contact flash away, the delete button pressed. You realised that he’d never really been the dream boyfriend you’d wished that he was, that you were better off without him but it didn’t take the hurt away…the knowledge that you’d never get a do over for this night.

You stood up from the sidewalk, unhooking your heels and tying the straps around your wrist - if you were going to walk home you might as well do it semi comfortably. The concrete was cold under your toes and goosebumps flecked your arms with the breeze, it was an unseasonably cold day in the outer banks and you felt like it was just yet another slight the universe was throwing at you that you had to walk home, freezing in your dress. The perfectly miserable end to the perfectly miserable night. 

The walk was long but the streets were empty, everyone locked away neatly in their houses sleeping happily or basking in the afterglow of post prom parties. It seemed like you really were the only one left and the darkness seemed extra vast for it, the orange street lamps luminance making everything look a shade more eerie. But then you heard the roar of an engine and you crossed your arms over your chest protectively, pointedly not looking its way, hoping it would pass you by quickly. 

But the vehicle didn’t speed ahead, it slowed down and eventually you were forced to turn to the side to see that the bike had stopped beside you and the driver turned your way, removing his helmet. 

Your heart sped up and skipped a beat, was this day really so terrible that on top of everything else you were about to get kidnapped too? You were completely and utterly alone on the dark side street and you wondered if running would make any difference to your fate but then the helmet was off and your eyes went wide, mouth gasping as you realised who it was. 

“Rafe Cameron?” you asked, he looked different, more muscular, older, sexier your mind supplied. Though you weren’t sure why that shocked you. After all it had been almost three years since he’d gone off to college and you’d last seen him. 

The corners of his mouth turned up in a grin, his own eyes widening and flicking up and down your frame appreciatively. Your cheeks heated up and you turned away from his striking eyes. 

“Y/N L/N? Is that you?” he asked the slight edge of disbelief in his voice “what are you doing here?”

Your eyebrow quirked up, amused at his question “well I live in the obx…it’s not unheard of for me to walk down the street you know, question is what are you doing here?”

You knew from Sarah that Rafe didn’t come home often, mostly only when he was obligated to like at holidays and even then his presence wasn’t guaranteed. 

He shrugged “would you believe it if I said that I was homesick?” 

“Not really.”

“Fair enough.”

There was silence for a beat and then you blurted out “you look good by the way, really good” your eyes went wide as you realised what you’d just said out loud “I-I just mean college suits you…you look healthy. ”

You cringed internally at your choice of words, healthy? Seriously? Exchange a few sentences with him and suddenly you were back to the stuttering, blushing sixteen year old fawning over her best friend's older brother and ‘heartbroken’ when he left for college. Even the memory of it made you cringe.

“Healthy?” Rafe repeated a teasing smirk pulling at his lips as he seemingly knew what you had really meant.

You swallowed quickly “yeah…”

He laughed, the mirth reaching his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh a little bit too.

“Well you look hot .”

Your cheeks flamed and he grinned “ smoking hot…what happened to my little sister's annoying best friend?” 

You looked down at the tires of his bike trying not to let him see your smile “you left…she grew up…that’s how time works you know.”

“Really? Thanks for the lesson…hope she didn’t forget about me though…”

“Oh she didn’t think of you once” you said, flashing him a teasing smirk your conscience laughing at the blatant lie…he had crossed your mind more than a few times over the past 3 years…the fact you checked his long abandoned facebook every couple of months was proof of that, but it wasn’t something that he needed to know. 

He threw a hand over his heart “ahh still annoying I see but you wound me.”

“So you thought about me then?”

“Everyday and night, ace.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the long forgotten nickname from childhood (a relic of your slight obsession with the pet detective movies) and you looked down coyly “oh I believe you, bet you have a shrine to me in your dorm don’t you?”

He stuck his tongue in his cheek to stop his laugh and nodded seriously “with candles.”

You giggled “you’re an ass Rafe Cameron.”

“And you’re a dork Y/N L/N.”

There was another, more comfortable pause of silence until Rafe interrupted, repeating his question from earlier.

“So what are you doing here?”

You shrugged “walking home, my moms got the car.”

He frowned “it’s prom night though.”

“So?”

“Well shouldn’t you be off having fun at an after party, sucking face with your date or whatever people do after prom? I know it's been a while since I was in high school but I'm pretty sure people don’t just go home alone.” 

You sighed “I just…didn’t feel like it I guess.” 

He crossed his arms over his chest and your eyes instinctively followed the movement of his muscles flexing against his white t-shirt.

“I don’t buy it” he shook his head slowly “you are the same girl who would dress up in a disney princess dress and decorate the living room to watch prom movies all weekend, right?”

You pressed your hands to your face groaning “ oh my god …yes that was me but I would like to remind you that i'm not nine anymore, thank you very much. I can’t believe you remember that.”

He laughed “Are you kidding? Of course I do, you and Sarah monopolised the tv every weekend I could never watch monster truck racing.” 

“Oh the horror” you said sarcastically.

 “No but seriously what happened, why are you all alone?”

Your heart sped up a little “nothing” you lied but you couldn’t look him in the eye. 

“C’mon” he urged you “it’s me , you can tell me.”

You sighed and turned your head away acting like watching a sparrow hopping across a telephone wire was the most interesting thing to look at. 

“y/n…this is prom , it isn’t right that you’re just going home. Where’s Williams?” 

You turned to him with surprise, you didn’t realise he knew the name of your boyfriend, but you shrugged it off thinking that Sarah must have told him. 

“He didn’t come.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up “ what ? Your boyfriend didn’t come to prom how -”

You cut him off, wincing at the word boyfriend “ex actually.”

“Since when?”

You shrugged again, holding up your phone “since I blocked him about 20 minutes ago?”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up so far they practically reached his hairline and he leaned against his bike with a look of confusion and shock “listen ace, you’re gonna have to give me a little more, what happened?”

You deflated with a heavy sigh you didn’t want to hash it back out, you already felt stupid for feeling so upset in the first place over prom and you didn’t want Rafe to see that too.  “Why does it matter?” you asked dejectedly.

“Because” Rafe said, “if i'm gonna put him in the hospital anyway i'd like to at least be able to give an explanation to the cops.”

Before you could help yourself you were laughing, pressing a hand to your lips to stifle the giggles when you saw he was deadly serious, leaning against his bike with a look of fury and righteousness on your behalf. 

“You can’t beat him up Rafe.”

“Why not?”

“Assault is kind of illegal just in case you weren’t aware” you teased and he rolled his eyes. 

“I'd still do it for you.”

You smiled, looking down at your shoes as you said softly “I know.” 

Before you could register the movement he’d stepped closer and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks as you registered the enticing scent of his cologne and his fingertips briefly  brushed your skin as he reached out to tuck a flyaway strand of hair behind your ears. 

“Ace” he said gently and you looked up momentarily stunned by just how blue the shade of his eyes were, like the ocean bathed in the glow of the moon “c’mon it's me, tell me what happened.”

Just like that your walls crumbled and before you could stop them the words were tumbling from your lips, tripping over one another as they rushed out “he ditched me…he promised that he’d come and then he text me 20 minutes before he was supposed to get here that he wasn’t coming, he didn’t wanna miss party of the year in his stupid frat or whatever and I guess I just feel so stupid for trusting him…for letting him ruin everything and…”

You had more to say but the words clogged in your throat, lips choking on them until all that came out was a sob as your eyes filled with hot tears and you didn’t have a second to feel mortified that you were crying in front of Rafe Cameron, Rafe Cameron who you’d loved since the moment you’d set eyes on him, because he reached out and folded you into his arms and you instinctively leaned into his embrace. 

He smelt like cedarwood and pine and the faint scent of the leather jacket that he'd worn earlier but most of all he smelt like home. Like fresh laundry and hugs that took your breath and your fears away. “It's okay” he murmured, stroking a large hand through your hair and you felt the pins keeping the style in place fall out the locks tumbling over your shoulders and making you feel surprisingly free and for a half a second you laughed wondering what mini you and mini Rafe would have made of the two of you actually getting on for once. 

“I'm sorry” you murmured, mortified by the tears, and if you were being honest a tiny bit of mascara, staining his white t-shirt but he just shook his head.

“You have nothing to be sorry for ace.”

You groaned, hiding your face in the comfort of his chest. “I do, I'm being so pathetic…it’s just a stupid high school dance.” 

He pulled you away from his chest but kept the contact, his arms warm and firm on your shoulders as he made you look at him and the sincerity on his face. 

“You are not pathetic” he said and when you shook your head he gripped your shoulders harder “no listen to me you’re not, he’s the pathetic one because he could have been spending his night with a beautiful, smart, funny girl and instead he gave all that up.”

You tried your hardest not to blush, his words filling you with warmth but making you shy at the same time. “And if you won’t let me kick his ass will you at least compromise and let me run him over with my car?”

You snorted and then nodded slowly “okay but you have to call the ambulance afterwards.”

He grinned and reached out to shake your hand “deal.”

He bumped his shoulder against yours, his eyes sparkling against the darkness of the night “there’s that pretty smile.”

“Shut up” you mumbled, flushing, and he grinned harder. 

Suddenly he was pulling away and before you register what he was doing he’d grabbed his leather jacket from where it was slung around the handlebars and wrapped it carefully around your shoulders and you smiled at him grateful that he’d noticed you were cold. 

His jacket was soft and best of all it smelt like him and you couldn’t stop yourself from closing your eyes and enjoying that comforting smell if you’d tried. 

“Hey daydreamer” his shout pulled you from your reverie and you saw he’d kickstarted the engine on the bike “c’mon i'll give you a ride.”

Your eyes went wide and he smirked “on that ?”

“you scared?” he taunted lightly “what you don’t think you could handle a bike, ace?”

“Are you challenging me Rafe Cameron?”

He shrugged “maybe” and you grinned.

“Oh fuck it” you said as you swung a leg over the bike and he positioned your arms so that they were wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Don’t forget to hold on” he called out and then suddenly you were flying….

Or at least it felt like you were flying, you’d never been on a motorbike before and you quickly discovered that it was fun, the wind rushed around you like you were a speeding bullet and the trees shading the coast blurred into dark green shapes. It was thrilling and fast and you buried your face into Rafe’s back resisting the urge to whoop like you were on a rollercoaster. 

“You missed the turn in for my street!” you shouted after a while and you felt rather than heard his laughter. 

“I never said I was taking you home ace, the night is still young.”

And you thought that maybe this tragic, horrible, miserable night might not end as such a tragedy after all.

[milliesfishes]

Heeey, I cant stop thinking about billy being absolutely hypnotized (basically love at first sight) by either a circus artist or a can-can dancer, if you want to write anything about that 🎀

౨ৎ꣑ৎbilly's love at first sight౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid also quick plug- @runningfrom2am has a series in progress called 'Michigan Cherry' that's similar to this idea and it's so good plz check it out

His boys had said there was a performance Billy wouldn't want to miss.

Wondering what kind of show could get them so riled up when they had so little alcohol in them, he'd followed them to a small building on the outskirts of town.

It was a setup with a bar in the corner and tables scattered about. There was a stage on the opposite side of the bar, and his boys found a spot close to it at a long table as the rest of the crowd filtered in. It was a full house- he noticed the population was mostly male, but was intrigued by a decent number of women and children intermixed.

One of his friends brought him a drink and he thanked him, growing more curious by the second about what kind of show this was. Being relatively new in town, he hadn't heard of such a thing until tonight.

He got his answer when the raggedy curtains parted to reveal a group of women in colorful costumes. A band slightly to the side of them started to play as they began to contort their bodies to the music in ways Billy hadn't ever seen before.

They twisted and spun and bent enthrallingly, and he leaned back in his seat, impressed. It was fascinating, the way the music seemed to be playing to them instead of the other way around.

When the act ended, he clapped enthusiastically, turning to the friend on his left, but the man only smirked. "You haven't seen nothin' yet."

Slightly confused by his words, Billy turned back to the stage. As the show progressed, he realized the show was made up of a series of acts, seemingly unconnected but flowing together all the same.

A very tall woman dressed in sequins sang operatically, breaking an offered glass from the audience. Three little girls did backflips across the stage. An older lady pulled butterflies from her sleeves and disappeared into a cloud of smoke. The first group of women from the beginning made several appearances, dancing in ways that made Billy's head spin.

He could see why people were so fascinated by this, why they apparently came back night after night. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

After a woman in a long dress finished a fan dance, Billy's other friend nudged his elbow. "Here it comes."

One of the cartwheeling little girls came out and introduced the next act, calling this performer "a siren". There was a loud cheer from the crowd, and Billy leaned forward on the table as the curtains reopened. Instantly his heart stuttered against his ribs, his mouth going dry.

Standing in the middle of the stage facing the audience was you.

You were stunning, in a light pink dress with a short skirt that made your legs look long and slender. Surveying the audience coyly, a smile grew on your face as you drank the audience's approval like water. It was like you lived off of it.

Billy watched, captivated, as you lifted your hands to stretch above your head, and a single violin from the band began to play. You opened your mouth, a sweet melody pouring from your throat.

He didn't recognize the language, but it was elegant as you sang it, pure emotion dripping from every word. Even though he couldn't understand you, he could understand you.

Tilting your head back, your voice became haunting, lower as the violin dipped down the scale with you. Reaching out your hand as if for your lover, your lyrics turned soft. The music paused, and you sang a single, foreboding line into the silence.

As you were frozen in your position, Billy was surprised by the utter stillness of the room. You commanded the audience with your being, your persona.

When the music continued, you sank to your knees and slid off the stage, trailing into the audience like a snake low in the grass. Now you were singing higher, your voice rich and lilting. As you swayed with every word he grew more and more entranced.

You made his heart beat faster, stole the breath from his lungs. He wanted to treasure you, cherish you as the audience cherished the gift of your performance.

Stopping for a moment and letting the violinist play, you twirled once and said in a mock disappointed voice, "I'm singing in French, but I don't see any French kissing? What's a girl gotta do?" The audience laughed at your little quip, and he found himself chuckling as well.

Spinning again, your little skirt fanned out, and Billy swore he could see glitter fly in your wake. A few of the men you passed fawned over you, but you hardly seemed to notice. It only seemed to make you more desirable.

At the conclusion of your song, you lifted yourself onto the table, his table, and crawled across it, lowering yourself into a pose on your side with your hair falling half over your face. About to grandly finish the song, you looked up and your eyes locked with his. For a second, you stared at him, and he felt something click as he offered you a little smile.

Seeming a little surprised, you smiled at him, and he saw through the character you were playing for a moment in time before you hit your final note, holding it long and clear like a swan's song. Thunderous applause and cheering from the audience ensued and you stood back up on the table, taking a long, well-deserved bow.

As you got off the table you looked back at Billy, giving him a wink and then disappearing backstage.

His friend pushed his shoulder. "What'd ya think?"

Billy was still under your spell, and he could only manage, "It was...it was good."

Laughing at the shell-shocked look in his eyes, his friend nodded knowingly. "Told ya you shouldn't miss it."

Both his boys went to go get another drink, and he followed them, the only thing really on his mind you. And when he'd be able to see you again.

Leaning against the bar, he surveyed the crowd casually, noticing some of the other performers mingling. Perking up, his eyes darted across the room, raking over the crush of people to try and find...

You were surrounded by a group of admirers; mostly male he noted. They seemed to be just as charmed as he had been by you, and you were reveling in the attention.

Billy just leaned against the bar, grinning at the sight. He'd never been this drawn to a girl before; not at first sight. Of course, he knew that likely had to do with you being an entertainer, but there was something else about you. The way you'd met his eyes, there was something raw and pure that had crackled between you.

He wanted to talk to you, but he also didn't want to get in the way of your fans, so he turned and accepted his drink from the bartender, trying to figure a way to get you alone.

As it turned out, he didn't need to, because you sidled up to him, leaning against the counter with that same coy look on your face you'd worn onstage. "Howdy."

"Evenin' ma'am," he tipped his hat, ignoring the rush of butterflies that fluttered around his heart.

Did you enjoy the show?" you seemed genuine in your asking despite the evidence that it had, indeed, been a good performance.

"Sure did," Billy confirmed, and you lit up. He wanted to make that smile stay, so he added, "You were wonderful."

"Oh, that's too kind of you." You seemed almost shy, which surprised him given how bold you were onstage. Even though you weren't all flashy and full of bravado now, there was still something about the way you spoke that was magnetic. All he saw was a sweet, pretty girl in a costume, not the "siren" you'd been introduced as. It was confirmed when you said, "I've never seen you before. Are you new in town or just new to the show?"

"Both," Billy lifted the brim of his hat. "Just rode in 'bout a week ago and I was told this was unmissable."

"I'm glad to hear tales of our prowess have reached the right ears," you tucked some of your hair behind your ear, your hand lingering there and twirling a strand. "What kinda work brought you to this corner of the world?"

"Just ranchin'," Billy explained, feeling like he could tell you anything at all. "I was on the road...well, on the run really, for a while and I'm turnin' to some honest work."

"How noble," you smiled as you said it. not seeming put off at all by his status as an outlaw. "One can always tell a good man by his intentions."

"You're mighty sweet, miss," he unconsciously smoothed a hand over his shirt, hoping it wasn't too wrinkled.

"Would you tell me your name?" you requested pleasantly.

Anything, he thought. "It's William H. Bonney on paper. Most folk call me Billy." Something about you wanting to know who he was had him weak.

You smiled something radiant and told him your name. He tested it out and it felt like honey on his tongue. Oh he was enchanted. Billy felt like a fool for falling for your charms, knowing you must capture the hearts of many every time you were on that stage. He couldn't at all help it. Everything about you drew him in, like you were a drug created specifically for the fine tunes of his addiction.

As you searched his eyes, he felt that spark again. It was absolutely electric, the way he felt when he looked at you. Billy had never felt such a connection before with anyone so quickly. Every facet of your being hypnotized him. And somehow, he knew you could feel the fire crackling between you too.

Standing up a little straight, you let go of the strand of hair you'd been holding. "Would you like to come back to my dressing room with me? We could talk more privately there." You said it with a slight air of nervousness that endeared you to him more.

The way you were looking at him he would have walked into the ocean if you'd asked. "I'd love to."

Your smile somehow burned brighter, and you took his hand, pulling him along with you to the back the room behind the stage. He followed you happily, smiling at the other performers lounging about the area, chatting idly. This was a safe space for them, he knew, and he felt lucky to have been allowed in.

Leading him to a back room, you shut the door behind him, turning around and leaning against it, smiling in relief. "What a lot of people don't know about this job is that I have to perform after the show too. But we're alone now so I don't have to."

He grinned, and you motioned to a chaise. "Sit. Make yourself at home."

Billy did, and he watched as you disappeared behind a screen set up in front, adjacent to the vanity on the wall. "I hope you don't mind if I get out of this." You referred to your costume.

"Not at all." He tried averting his eyes even though you were behind the screen, but the glow from the lantern behind it showed your silhouette removing your clothes. He could see you toss your costume over the side of the screen and shake out your hair. Pulling on a light chemise from a hook on the wall, you took a dressing gown and tied it around yourself. Reappearing before him, you came to sit beside him on the chaise.

Though you were wearing a chemise, the hem was short, and your dressing gown unfolded, revealing the skin of your thigh. You were oblivious to it, leaning against the backrest and propping your elbow on it to rest your cheek on. "Tell me more about yourself, Mr. Bonney. You've got me hooked."

That alluring smile again. He removed his hat, setting it to the side and crossing one leg over the other as he began to talk.

Billy found himself telling you things he normally wouldn't have confessed to a soul. The details of his family's immigration from Ireland, his mother's marriage to an awful man, his first arrest...it all came pouring out. He wasn't a man who talked by any means but around you he could feel himself becoming one.

You listened intently, looking at him like there wasn't a soul in the world more interesting than him. He'd never felt like anyone had been so utterly fascinated by him before.

He hadn't realized how many hours he'd been in there until he caught sight of the clock on your vanity. "Oh- my apologies, miss. Been takin' too much time and ya must be tired from tonight-"

"That's alright, Billy," you replied comfortably. "I like talking to you."

"Didn't let ya hardly get any talkin'," he chuckled.

"I enjoy listening to you then," you reaffirmed. He stood and you did too, retying the bow of your dressing gown that had loosened in the time you'd been sitting.

Billy picked up his hat. "Thank you for your time. I'd be pleased to get a chance to talk to ya 'gain."

"Likewise," you smiled. Seeming to have a thought just then, you said, "I never do this, but..." You reached over to your vanity and found a pen, sliding a piece of paper haphazardly across the table. Holding it up and using your hand as a hard surface to write on, you scribbled something brief and folded it in half, sealing it with a kiss on the back that left a lipstick mark.

Holding it out to him between two fingers, you raised your eyebrows playfully. "I've never let a man call on me before...but I want you to."

A slow smile spread across his face and he took the folded paper, tucking it into his shirt pocket. "Then I will."

Leaving the building, he smiled to himself, walking with a new bounce in his step. Billy found himself wanting to know every detail about you, every curve and crack and the flowers that grew between them.

His boys weren't too drunk to notice he was happy, and they pestered him the whole ride back, teasing him and asking relentlessly about who he'd met. Billy's spirits were too high to care, and he dreamt about you the whole way home, knowing he wasn't the only one doing so. But he found solace in knowing he wasn't imagining the seductive persona onstage.

It was the sweet, compassionate, joyful girl who smiled at him so softly that he thought of until sleep, where you then haunted his dreams.

[itspointydumbass]

My Problems With Veilguard

I've put up a lot of positivity, but I'm getting further in and I have. Issues. Under the cut because not everyone is gonna want to read negativity.

I don't know how to explain it, but getting further into Veilguard, I still like it, but it's just like. I don't know. It's fine. It's fun. But I don't feel satisfied the way I wanted to. There's a lot of lore I feel is missing, a lot of loose ends that aren't getting tied up because they only carried over, like, three of my choices. The more I'm playing the more I feel like I should be wearing a full clown outfit because I waited ten years for this game and the moments that make me feel something (which I've posted about - Minrathous vs. Treviso, Bellara's backstory etc.) are getting outnumbered by intense disappointment. There's a lot of backpedalling going on here and yet I still feel like I need to defend it because the problems with this game have very little to do with being "woke" like some people are claiming. I have to be 20x more invested in this game than I actually am because a lot of the comments are just wah wah it's woke and that. Isn't the problem.

The romances feel bland. I enjoy slow-burn, but it's going at an absolute glacial speed, and it's actually painful.

I barely feel connected to any of the characters. They all got these really interesting introductions, only to fall flat on their faces and be pretty bland from there on out. I think part of the reason is that you can't talk to them out of your Regularly Scheduled Cutscenes. In Inquisition and Origins, you were able to have these off-the-cuff conversations that made the world feel more real and lived-in. You could ask questions of your companions, could agree with them, could disagree with them, could gain or lose approval from your chats. In this game, outside the cutscenes, all you get is them talking to each other. Rook is a spectator to their chats, and it makes me feel disconnected from them.

I'm being handheld through certain parts of the story. Taash's story has so much potential, but at this point I feel like I'm being spoon-fed explanations. Instead of working through a character's story, I'm being told what non-binary means. Over and over again. Again, there's so much potential! Their relationship with their mother, with their culture, with their gender could have been handled so well, but so far it's falling flat.

I know not everyone likes the dialogue wheel, but I always have. Maybe it's the neurodivergence in me, but give me too many choices and I start to agonise a little. I like the fact they've brought back the DA2-style Purple!Hawke sort of responses. I like still having things from Inquisition, like the sad responses and the stoic responses and so on and so forth. Gives a bit more personality to Rook. But some of the replies are just... the same reply in different fonts? Is it just me? Like. Huh???????????

The stakes. Every time the tension gets ramped up, it somehow manages to fall flat again. I'm left with a feeling of that's it? every. Single. Time.

I don't know. I just feel very little need to continue with the game. It's been out for more than two weeks and I still haven't finished it. I've played Stardew Valley 1.6 more than I've played Veilguard. And I'm really pissed because I WANT to like it more. I want to feel more than this is fine about a series I really, really love. But I felt more connected to ANDROMEDA than this. Andromeda had issues, but it wasn't pacing issues and it wasn't nearly as. Just. Dull.

I don't know. Ten years, folks. Ten years.

[f1bordeaux]

If You Cared (Part 3) | mv1

It's been years since you've indulged in a vacation. What better time is there than summer? Your family, the beach house in Italy-it seems perfect. But, for things to be just like good old times, your family needs to invite his. So of course you are having mixed feelings as the boy who broke your heart re-enters your life like nothing happened. Warnings: None Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader Word count: 2.5k Poetry style | Story style A/n: Part 3 has arrived! I rewrote this about a million times so I kinda just gave up lololololol It isn't proofread sry next chapter will prob have smut in continuation to the end of this chapter? I haven't decided yet. I'm hoping to finish this series by Saturday because then I go on hiatus for 3 months so look out! As always, let me know if you wanna be in a continuation tag! Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five

When Max woke up the room was dark-pitch black almost.

All he could see was the turquoise glow from the pool outside, thanks to the glass patio door. He studied it for a while, watching the water idly float around, watching trees sway in a soft wind. It looked tranquil. It looked calm. For a moment, he almost fell back asleep, tucked in the corner of the couch underneath two or so blankets. Then you moved.

He almost jumped, completely forgetting that you had been sitting on the couch, too. As fate would have it, you had also fallen asleep, curled into his side with your arms around his waist. One of his hands rested on your back, another one on the top of the couch. He hadn’t even realized. Now that he did, however, he felt a little warmer, his heart felt a little fuller, his smile grew a little wider.

Max reached for his phone on a couch cushion nearby. The time was two-almost three-in the morning. He could only assume that the two of you fell asleep during family movie night and nobody had bothered to wake either of you. He was grateful for that.

Over the past four days, the two of you had grown incredibly close-inseparable even. After his apology, the days were spent falling back into the familiar rhythm you’d built as children. Everything you did, you did together. Chores? Apparently dishes were a two-person job! Mopping the floor? Two is better than one! Grocery shopping? It can be done twice as fast with two people! Even when it came to seating arrangements you and Max were together. In the car, at a meal, at a game around the table, on the couch for movies. If Max was there, you were there. If you were there, Max was there.

You rustled a little, aiming to get more comfortable in your sleep. Max waited until you stilled before slowly picking you up and laying you back down. He placed a butterfly kiss on your forehead. If you had been awake, a blush would be painting your cheeks red in seconds. Instead, you just nestled deeper into the blankets. Max smiled, turning on his heel and carefully sliding the back door open.

The cold air was refreshing, it was like a jumpstart for his lungs. He inhaled sharply, sitting down on a patio chair. His mind became occupied with plenty of questions, with plenty of memories, with plenty of possible outcomes for this summer. What would become of you two once you parted ways? Do you remember that time the two of you built a fort in the living room, and your parents let it stay up until the following summer, and when you came back it was still up? You two would be ok in the end, right?

“You should tell her, Max.”

He spun around, surprised at the sudden voice. Mia approached him, taking a spot on a lounge chair next to his. “What?” He spoke, voice raspy.

“Luca told me.”

“Luca, right.”

Mia nodded, bringing her sleeves up to her eyes. She sipped on a glass of water. “Do you love y/n? Or is this a joke to you? I mean it obviously started that way-”

“It’s not a joke.” He sighed. “I do love y/n. I swear I do.”

“What’s to come after this then, hmm? When you go back to Monaco and she goes to New York, what happens then?” Mia’s voice grew increasingly loud. Max’s eyes shifted from her face to the back door. Your figure was still curled up on the couch, but there was no way to know if you were awake or not.

“I don’t know, Mia.” He stood up, turning to go inside. “All I know is that I love her.”

“You loved her as a kid and you still left her.”

“Mia that won't-”

“Did you really change or is this just you trying to fabricate a lie once again?”

He tried to speak, to voice his opinion without waking you. “Will you let me-”

“You should stop getting so close with her. I can almost smell your bad intentions-”

“Mia!” He yelled, voice bouncing off the walls and echoing through the yard. She looked at him with wide eyes. “I’ll figure it out.”

With that he walked inside, noticing your movement on the couch. You sat up, rubbing your eyes similarly to how Mia just had. “Max?”

“Hello, beautiful. Let’s go to bed, ok?” He reached out a hand, one that you hesitated to take.

“Why were Mia and you outside? Why did you shout her name?”

Max just shook his head, opting to pick you up bridal style. You smiled, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. Sleep toyed with your body, pulling at your eyelids and weighing your limbs down. Your sister walked inside as Max began to walk up the steps. You didn’t see it, but he gave her an apologetic look. She returned one of anger, one of dread. Dont fuck this up or it’s over for good, she was telling him. I know, he wanted to say. Trust me, I know.

Max walked you up the stairs, his body heat providing a comfort no blanket ever could. He pushed your door open and laid you down before pulling your sheets over you. His hand came to your hair, brushing a few strands away from your face. You looked so delicate laying there. He could break you in seconds. He hated knowing that he had that power over you.

With a small kiss goodbye to the cheek, he was standing, ready to go into his room and try to fall asleep on his own cold, lonely bed. You hand caught his wrist, though, stopping him in his tracks. “Stay.” Your words were so quiet that he almost didn’t hear you. “Stay, Max.”

He swallowed thickly. Through your closed door, he could hear Mia’s footsteps as she wandered down the hall and back to her bedroom. Was she right? Was this wrong? Would this just lead into another heartbreak at the end of the summer? Would you always hate Max unless you were dating him?

“Y/n I-”

“Please?”

He crawled over you, his chest pressing into your back. The two of you didn’t last long like that, however. You rolled over, curling into his body. His arms wrapped around you, his hands meeting at the small of your back. “Thank you,” You whispered.

And you swear he said, “You’re welcome, my love.” As you fell asleep.

-

You woke up alone, an indentation in the spot beside you as the only evidence that Max had once been there.

You begin to wonder how long ago he left your side. Did he leave as soon as you fell asleep? Did he leave a little while ago? Did he leave somewhere in between? You smiled as your hand touched the spot on your duvet where he was. It was still warm.

“Good morning!” Your mother beamed as you walked down the stairs. Max and Luca sat at the kitchen bar, your mother and Max’s stood behind it, cooking up some sort of food. “Sleep well after your slumber on the couch?”

“God, you should have seen how you and him were cuddled up.” Luca gagged. “Disgusting.”

You smacked the back of his head as you passed him to sit next to Max. “You’re seventeen, not twelve, Luca.” Max smiled at you as you took your seat. He ran a hand across your thigh before pulling it back. Your skin missed his touch almost immediately.

“Yacht today-sound good with you three?” Sophie asked.

“Always.” Max added, raising his glass in the air. “We haven’t been on it yet this year.”

Luca sighed. “My dad and I have been working on it. A few tweaks here and there. We’re confident now that we can take it out and not get stranded.”

“Awesome.” He responded.

“Better grab a few emergency flares just in case.” You said, your mother sliding you a glass of coffee and a carton of creamer across the bar. “We all know Luca isn’t the smartest of kids.”

He stuck a middle finger up at you, to which you returned.

Going on the yacht meant there was only one possible destination. There was an island off the southwest coast of Elba called Pianosa. A small, secluded, rocky beach named Belvedere beach called Pianosa home, and it was also where your family would spend their day. It took about three hours to get there, and you all would normally stay until sunset, arriving home in the late hours of the night. You have plenty of fond memories surrounding the trip. When coming home, everyone would fall asleep except for you and Max who would sit by your father as he navigated his way home. Sometimes, when it got boring watching him, you two would run around and play in the hot tub. This year, you hoped, would be no different.

“So, you and Max.”

“Stop it, mom.” You sighed, walking shoulder to shoulder with her. The boat was a few feet away, and Max was already on it with your dad, Luca, and Victoria’s husband as they lifted heavy coolers and bins onto the deck.

“What? It looks like things are going well for you two.”

“They are, but I’m not getting too invested. He’s gotta’ go back to Monaco and I have to go back to New York. Those two places are very far away.” You stepped onto the dock. “Not to mention we have very different lives.”

Your mother just shrugged, placing one foot on the boat and accepting a helping hand from your father. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll find a way to be.”

He reached out a hand to you. “She’s a woman of wisdom, darling.”

You scoffed. “Apparently everyone is.”

The yacht took off quickly after you all boarded. You sat alone in the lounge on the second floor. You could feel the wind on your face as the boat sped up. It was refreshing. You’d missed the yacht. You’d missed a lot of things about Elba summers, you realized.

“There you are.” Max walked down the stairs behind you. “Why are you alone?”

“Just needed a breather.”

“Are you ok?” He sat down on the couch next to you, a worried look on his face.

“Yes.” You laughed. “I’m alright.”

The trip went smoothly. You and Max hung out in the lounge the whole time. At one point, Victoria and her husband came down with their two children. The six of you talked the whole time. Victoria spoke of motherhood and how amazing it had been. You all reminisced, too. She reminded you of birthday parties and summer outings. She reminded you of girl nights and bedroom sleepovers.

Once the boat ported, Luca was the first to jump off the side, nearly missing a rock. Of course your mother scolded him. What was a family trip without Luca getting in trouble? You and Mia tanned on the front of the boat until lunch on the first deck. You slid into the booth followed by a dripping wet Max. His hand was cold as it touched your thigh before pulling away-the same as he did in the morning.

“Stop, you’re cold.” You swatted at him as he scooted closer to you. “Max! Stop!”

He laughed before grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his shoulders. “So whiney.”

After eating, everyone took a quick breather before jumping back into the water. Mia went to continue tanning, you stayed seated on the first deck. Max stayed with you, too. And you were sure that a good conversation could happen but of course, Luca was there so all that was said was nonsense. At one point, Max and your little brother got in an argument on whether or not white was a color or shade. How intelligent.

“Jump in with me.” Max begged.

“Let me get in through the ladder first then I’ll jump in.”

He shook his head. “That’s wimpy. Jump.”

“Max-”

“Jump.”

You would never win this argument. So, hand in hand with him, you and Max jumped off the edge of the boat. The water was freezing. You began to worry about having a heart attack. It was a serious worry, ok? You spent the rest of the afternoon floating in the ocean, sometimes with a raft and sometimes on Max’s back. You played stupid games with Mia and Luca, you showed Victoria’s kids how to build a ‘good’ sand castle, you pushed your father off the boat-life was good.

When everyone was asleep on couches and chairs, your father pulled the boat away from the island and began the return to Elba. Max and you were together-of course-in the hot tub. You were exhausted, the sun had done a number on your body. The bubbling water and warm temperatures in the hot tub made it hard to keep your eyes open. Plus, the sun was down now, so it was relatively dark.

“I had a lot of fun today.” Max said.

You hummed, eyes closed as you leaned your head back. “Me too.”

“I always have fun around you and your family, so thank you.”

You opened your eyes, lowering your head to look at him. His hair was messy, his face was red. He looked tired but he still somehow looked so good. He only thought the same things about you. “You’re welcome around us anytime.”

He began to move closer to you, body cutting through the water. You watched him intensely as he came to your side. His eyes flicked between your lips and your eyes. You could feel his breath on your cheek. What was this? What was he doing? Why were you allowing it to happen?

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. “You’re so pretty.” He whispered.

“No,” You shook your head. Hopefully your sunburn was masking the blush that was darkening your cheeks. “I look disheveled.”

“You always look good, y/n.”

It was your turn to avert your gaze from his eyes to his lips. They looked so plush, so full, so warm. You wondered if they felt the same as they did all those years ago. Max’s hand came to your neck. His index finger skimmed your jaw. His eyelashes fluttered shut. You found yourself mindlessly following suit. Before you knew it, those warm lips you were wondering about were on yours. He was soft, careful with the way he handled your skin. His other hand came to hold the opposite side of your face.

He pulled away after only a few moments. “Y/n I-”

“Max-”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask or anything I don’t know why I did that-”

You lifted your thigh to slide onto his lap. His eyes were wide as you wrapped your arms around his neck, elbows resting on his shoulders. “Do it again.”

“What?” He whispered.

“Kiss me, Max.”

He swallowed hard, adjusting how he was sitting in the hot tub. “Absolutely.”

[thecoffeelorian]

True Colors? (WIP)

//small note: It's not Wednesday and I haven't edited this all the way, but I wanted to stay productive, soooooo. Here's the unfinished version of the next part of my "Surprise Guest Series", aka my Crosshair X Reader set. Enjoy. ;)

True Colors

The next thing you know, at least from the place where you’re standing between the two ships, Omega’s wrapped both arms around your waist in an obvious hug, Crosshair’s gone frightfully silent…and some distance away, you get to see the oddball joy of two grown men on the edge of Temper Tantrum Depot.

“You’re doing WHAT…?!”

In this particular instance, Hunter’s seemed to want to go first, because those jet-black eyes who used to refuse to make eye contact with yours are now glaring as though they wish to burn you and Cross alive instead.

“You heard her, General.”

By contrast, you’re still careful not to get too loud or harsh, yet there’s now a firm edge to your voice that you haven’t exactly heard before.

“Unlike you, I don’t think she likes the idea of abandoning her fellow fugitives.”

“Don’t you mean kidnappers?”

“I meant exactly what I just said, thank you very much…”

This edge seems to grow, even sharpen, the longer this holier-than-thou nerfherder attempts to stare you down.

“…And anyway, since you obviously know everything about me without even asking…WHEN, exactly, did I kidnap her?”

In fact, it’s not that long before you start glaring back at HIM, your voice slowly filling with venom.

“Was it before or after she came knocking at MY door and asked for MY help?”

“Omega wouldn’t ever do that!”

The three of you are soon looking past him, because there’s another Trooper to contend with. Wrecker’s jumping into the chat this time, the look of anger somewhat giving way to confusion. Either he doesn’t have the slightest idea what to think of you, or else he’s already been convinced to hate you ages before you ever did anything wrong.

“We…we told her not t’ talk to strangers. What makes you so special?”

In any case, though, you’re not about to take any puuduu from him, either. Not when you might be five klicks away from finding some manner of political asylum…and with or without their ‘approval’.

“Nothing. I’m just a waiter from offworld…but I do know this.”

And if you haven’t surprised yourself enough today, well…your slow but careful nudge for Omega to go over to Crosshair for safety’s sake certainly takes the cake.

After all, even if you don’t have a clue as to whether or not this is going to turn into a blaster fight…you sure as kriff aren’t going to make her stand in the middle of it.

“Since we—and that DOES include Omega, so let me make that nice and clear—heard the Imps start knocking on other people’s doors right before we booked it to the hangar, it’s only going to be a matter of time before they all show up to drag us back to that lab…or worse.”

Having spoken your peace, you then decide to mirror Wrecker’s posture and fold your arms across your chest, a clear sign that they’re about to have the floor.

“So if you don’t want to end up responsible for punishing a civilian and your own sister simply to stick it to your headstrong donkey of a brother…then I suggest you choose wisely. Sir.”

You finish your pitch with a polite bow and a hand over your heart, the planet-wide gesture of respect in your part of the galaxy. If it was someone else from your home planet you were talking to, then they’d most likely let out a nervous chuckle, make up a somewhat believable excuse for their behavior or apologize for the harshness of their words, and possibly even declare an unofficial truce between you by offering you a little caf and cake back at their apartment.

This Hunter guy on the other hand…well, he’s starting to look like he’s somewhere between passing a kidney stone and collapsing into the pavement, truth be told. No living man, be he soldier or civilian, has ever turned that shade of purple before, and as far back as you can remember, you know they haven’t balled their fists up so tight that their knuckles looked more on the jaundiced side than their usual healthy brown.

Clearly, he has no idea what he wants to do to you first—beat you until you’re the same color and consistency as freshly ground nerf meat; or else die of embarrassment. At this moment in time, either one of these is totally possible, if not also a maximum threat level.

And yet—

“—Don’t we, uh…have an oil can somewhere?”

And yet, the one they call Wrecker, aka “The Big Guy” as you’ve personally just dubbed him, is starting to act like he may have just budged about an inch or two from whatever sinless perfect high ground he might have held a moment before.

Well, thank the Force that SOMEBODY is.

“What oil can…?”

In other words, even though Hunter’s still enjoying the view from his own pedestal and probably ready to piss on your heads without so much as a single moment’s notice…he sure can’t keep Wrecker from thinking for himself.

“The one that Tech always kept on board for…for emergencies.”

Like bringing up the name of a fifth squad member for some kind of emotional leverage, for example, if not also making good use of it, too.

“The least we can do is hand it over, right?”

“Not if I order you to stand down and go back to the ship…right?”

“Fine. You can go back to Pabu without me, then.”

Or, dare you even think it, sabotaging all of Hunter’s “plans” solely out of having enough of his shitty behavior.

“As for me, I’m not losin’ any more people.”

In any case, Wrecker’s striding right past Hunter, giving him a hard enough shove to make him stumble and nearly fall sideways…and finally, goes back into the Marauder to go and bring you the much needed oil can whether this stupid “leader” gives his permission or not.

Incredible. Maybe Wrecker’s not some submissive errand boy after all.

As for you, well…you’re left wondering whether or not Hunter himself can take all three of you out with a single blaster shot from that distance, especially if he decides to take his temper out on Omega for bringing the two of you back without asking his permission first.

“Sergeant.”

“I’m sorry…?”

At least, that’s your thought until he decides to back off instead…for now.

“I’m a sergeant, not a general. Learn the difference.”

And with that, he also turns and goes back inside the Marauder, not a single look backward spared for Omega this time. Funny thing…you had originally thought that she was the designated favorite, and would therefore have some kind of leverage over all future squad decisions. Their initial reunion had suggested that much had occurred before, after all…so what the kriff had changed since then?

“Eh…that went well, am I right?”

There doesn’t exactly seem to be a lot of time to mull this one over, for Omega’s speaking up again and trying to stay upbeat, even if she’s not looking all that confident any more.

“We—we should be able to get off this planet now. We can go back to the island, and—and then…”

Rather, she’s looking nervous, just a little heartbroken, and—if there’s room to make a fast-food related analogy here—dejected with a shot of annoyance to wash it all down. There’s most likely no limits to her personal feelings now, especially after what just played out in front of her as well as you.

“And then…take a break?”

You, on the other hand, aren’t about to be knocked down by that Sergeant’s issues, because even if he hates you, he’ll end up thinking twice before he dishes out the same treatment to her.

“Yeah…yeah, let’s do that. Take a break, I mean…”

This is why you’re slipping a comforting arm around her before letting Crosshair have the other, a makeshift hug for them both to break up the tension of it all. Let the others stew in their own moody juices for a while…you’ve got more important things and more important people to focus on.

Whatever happens in the near future, whatever battles are ahead…you just hope that you’re there to see what’s on the other side.

[i-hate-people-1]

This is part three of my Warren Rojas fanfic I hope you enjoy!!! Also if you have any ideas for a name for this series let me know because I haven't been about to come up with anything good. Anyways thank you so much for reading xx

Masterlist

Warren Rojas X Reader

Karen "Now that I think about it, I don't remember seeing one without the other much after that."

It was true—you and Warren had been inseparable. You did everything other than work together. You needed to go to the store; Warren was going with you. He needed new drumsticks, and you were going with him.

The one exception is parties. Warren thrived at parties; he loved people and was loud, bubbly, and fun. always up for trying something new. You, however, hated parties. They made you anxious; they were too loud, and there were far too many people.

So on a night like tonight, when Karen had invited everyone to a party her friend was throwing, you politely declined, making the excuse that you needed to paint your guest room.

It was true; you had been putting it off for quite some time. Not going to a party just happened to be the perfect motivation.

"Are you sure you don't want to come? It's going to be really fun!” Warren asked, looking through his chest of drawers in the living room. You were laying on the couch, better known as Warren's makeshift bed. Helping him pick out an outfit for the party

"Yes, I'm sure," you told him, hoping it would be the last time he'd ask. You had stood your ground all day every time he had asked so far, but Warren had a way of convincing you to do stuff.

"Okay, fine," he sighed, holding up an outfit: a pair of flowy tan pants, a white collared button-up, and a black vest. "How's this?"

"Are you going for pirate?"

"Not particularly"

"Then lose the shirt," you told him, standing up to look in his drawer. You found a grey tank top and said, "Here, wear this instead." You threw him the shirt, and he caught it, holding it out with a huge smile overtaking his face.

"You're a genius!" he exclaimed, running over to you and picking you up, and twirling you around.

"Put me down," you laughed. "You need to change or you're going to be late," you told him, still laughing.

He sat you down gently, moving the hair that had fallen out of your face. His finger outlined your cheekbone, hand resting there. You swallowed nervously at the closeness, staring into his eyes as he inched closer. And despite your nervousness, you did too.

Just as you both started to close your eyes, you heard the front door open. You quickly jumped away from each other, your gaze falling to the floor.

"I should change," Warren chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Yeah, I should go home anyway," you told him, standing still despite your statement.

  "Warren, why aren't you dressed yet?" Karen asked him as she walked in from the kitchen.

"I'm going," he said, walking away quickly.

"What's wrong with him?" Karen asked.

"Nothing," you said quickly, deciding to cut your losses and starting your walk home, leaving a confused Karen behind.

You slid down your door as soon as you closed it, head falling to your knees. "Ughhhhh," you grunted loudly. picking your head up and walking into your guest room, trying to forget about what happened between you and Warren just moments before.

A few hours later, you had finished painting your guest room, and now you were just sitting on your couch watching TV, the events of earlier today still heavy on your mind.

Just as you were getting ready to go to bed, you heard the front door knob jiggle followed by a knock. You looked at the door slowly, standing up and grabbing a lamp off your entryway table, when you heard another knock. You held the lamp up, ready to swing, unlocking the door and opening it quickly, letting out a breath of relief when you were met with Warren's smiling face.

"Warren, what the hell, you scared the shite out of me," you told him, holding his hand over your heart in an attempt to calm its rapid beating.

"Sorry," he whispered, pushing past you, stumbling, and falling onto your couch head first.

"Warren?" you said, closing the door and walking to the couch. sitting in front of the couch, facing him.

"Yes?" he whispered, turning his head to the side.

"Are you okay?" you asked, moving the hair out of his eyes. It was the first time you got a good look at them and how bloodshot they were, and he smelled of cigarettes and booze. It wasn't a bad smell; it was very warren-like, like, actually, he had a way of pulling it off.

"No," he told her, smiling brightly and laughing despite what he just said. This made you furrow your brows in question.

"You really have no idea, do you?" He asked you with a frown overtaking his face.

"What are you talking about?" You asked back, laughing nervously, confused as to what he was talking about.

"Ughhh," he groaned loudly, sitting up abruptly and running a hand down his face, leaving it resting there. His change of position made you get up from the floor, pull your coffee table closer, and sit down on it. Pulling his hands away from his face gently, you lifted his face with one hand while the other held his resting in his lap.

"Warren, what's going on?" you asked, trying not to startle him.

"I can't do this anymore," he told you, his big brown eyes staring deeply into your soul.

Your heart started racing at his statement. You had so many questions do what life? The band? Partying? Or worse of all your friendship? You opened your mouth to say something, but Warren quickly put his hand over your mouth.

"I know you don't feel the same, and that's okay, I just needed to tell you so please don't say anything because in my drunken state I can take the rejection," Warren told you while lying back down on the couch. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper; you were trying so hard to figure out what the hell he was talking about. But your thoughts were interrupted by Warren's soft snores.

You smile down at him, covering him with a blanket and brushing the hair out of his eyes once more before leaning down to kiss his cheek softly.

"I love you," Warren mumbled, making you freeze in your place, eyes widening. You pulled away as your mind caught up to you.

"Warren," you whispered, wondering if he was awake at all. When he didn't respond, you just kept staring at his sleeping face. Despite all the thoughts running around your head, you just smiled and said, "You know, as insane as it may sound, I think I love you too." You told his sleeping form this while standing up and walking to your room, looking at him one last time before turning off the light and heading to bed.

You woke up the next morning with the sun shining brightly in your eyes. It was 9:00 AM on a Saturday, so you took a few minutes to keep lying in bed, taking your time to wake up.

When you finally did get up, you threw on a big t-shirt and headed toward the kitchen, surprised when you heard someone already in there glancing at the couch and relaxing when you didn't see him there.

"Good morning," you said, seeing Warren at the stove making some french toast.

"Good morning," Warren replied softly, not looking at you. The air in the room was awkward, and you felt like you could cut the tension with a knife.

After getting some coffee, you sat down at the table and waited for Warren to finish. After a few minutes, he came to sit beside you, sliding a plate of two pieces of French toast—one with a whipped cream frowny face and the other with a poorly written "I'm sorry."

You laughed at this, looking over at Warren, who was still avoiding your gaze. "Why are you sorry?" you questioned.

"I came to your house in the middle of the night, super drunk, and passed out on your couch," he whispered.

"Warren, look at me," you paused, moving his head gently to meet your eyes, frowning when you were met with his sad ones. "You have nothing to be sorry for," you told him, smiling when you saw a small one on his lips.

You both started eating your French toast, and Warren had a plate of greasy bacon.

"I also threw up on your blanket, so I'm sorry about that too," he said before shoving some bacon in his mouth. (It was all good, though, as he had already put it in the washer for you.)

 

Y/N "I just wanted to shake him and ask him if he really loved me that whole day, but he was asleep when he said it, so I couldn't really hold that against him."

Warren " yeah...” warren paused looking at the camera seriously “I was wide awake,"

[erisenyo]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks to @noexoozes for the tag!!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 40!! Though a few of them are drabbles/shorter things from tumblr that I've been slowly porting over, so without those its 32

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 1,638,585 lol holy shit

3. What fandoms do you write for? ATLA! Though I'm thinking about having a go at the Radiant Emperor for @radiantemperorweek if my schedule allows it 🤞I've also been Consumed lately by a particularly pairing of the Game Changers series by Rachel Reid, with a few specific things I'd love to see that were offscreen in the books, so we shall see there as well...

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Love is in the Hair - post-canon established Zukka, one-shot, banter, silliness, identity shenanigans with people not realizing they're sharing political gossip with the Fire Lord

These Things Written - part one of the series that started it all, "what if Zukka was canon", three-part full series rewrite, lots of angst, lots of smut, lots of feels (and technically the next two parts are also on this list, but instead-)

Lessons in Proper Asset Management - post-canon established Zukka, smutty one-shot, Sokka's competence kink vs Zuko being really good at finance, absurdity ensues

Part-Time Plumber, Full-Time Problem - Modern AU smutty Zukka one-shot, based on a grindr exchange about needing a wrench, identity shenanigans, banter, and Mai and Suki absolutely roasting their respective BFFs

Ten Rules For Sleeping With You - canon and post-canon get-together > established relationship fic, all the things Sokka has learned when it comes to sleeping next to Zuko

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! I am very behind right now, but I appreciate the time and thought people put into them so much, and I love chatting back!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Ohh I love a happy ending, so this is hard. Its probably Darling I Think There's Maybe Something You Should Know, part of my Zukki series where we end with Sokka and Suki realizing Zuko doesn't think they're together, and has been going on other dates.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I love a happy ending, so this is hard in a different way! I'll go with To Be Named, To Be Known (To Be Loved), because ending with a big wedding and laughter just sets a particular mood :)

8. Do you get hate on fics? I wouldn't classify it as hate as much as people occasionally disagreeing with certain characterization, usually Iroh or Katara from the Burning Bright series, and having a lot of feelings about it.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Lol you bet I do. And basically all of it? I think the only thing I haven't written technically is f/f and that's just because I haven't had time for my foursome get-together fic yet

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Not yet and I'm not sure I will, sometimes the framework of two stories fits well together, but I tend more toward AUs than crossovers

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! These Things Written was translated into Russian

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Technically Night Call, though that was more like tumblr posting back and forth that suddenly got long enough for AO3 haha

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? I primarily write Zukka, but I have so many favorites! I love Zukki, Jetko is great, my Jeeko longfic idea has had me in its grips for years, there are ships across other fandoms I love to read. I'm a multishipper at heart.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I...don't actually have any of these. I only post thing when they're already finished, and I don't do well writing multiple works at one time, so I tend to just finish things sequentially rather than have a bunch of WIPs floating around. (Ideas that I want to write but may never...that's a whole different question.)

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm really good at writing fun smut scenes that still back a lot of emotional punch, and I love dialogue! I also think I'm good at inverting tropes and reader expectations in fun ways to draw out/build narrative tension.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Descriptions, probably. I struggle to make place and people descriptions feel integrated into the next, rather than like clunkily bolted on. Usually I feel like its interrupting the pacing and I end up cutting it significantly back.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'd be cautious of it if I didn't speak it myself, unless I was trying to represent someone with a similar level of competency, just because there are so many nuances of word choice and sentence structure and translation that would probably go over my head.

19. First fandom you wrote for? ATLA!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? This is impossible to answer! I love them all so much in such different ways. To Open Every Door to Night, To Meet Each Rising Sun will always be up there, writing Azula was so much fun. I think Of Tea and Turtle Ducks (and the Turtle Duck Guy) absolutely knocked the whole overarching metaphor out of the park, To Cleave These Roots We've Made is maybe my best like angst/emotional intensity fic, All Along You Were There (But I Missed It) just delivered on the mood and vision I had so well and showcased this warm romance so perfectly, and I'm really cheating so I'm going to make myself stop there haha

And lets see, tagging @sword-and-stars @spacecasehobbit @ranilla-bean @lizardlicks @hot-flippin-mess and anyone else who wants to play!

[sillyspero]

hi! i found you since you followed my atz lore acc @tothisemptiness and i wanted to say i just finished going through you slideshow which is amazing tbh i love how you kept it fun while explaining smth as heavy and complicated as atz's lore. i have some questions tho if you don't mind me asking.

you said a good part of the treasure series is a completely separate storyline and it does make so much sense and is an interesting take but i have three questions: do you think it links or will link to the main storyline at some point? if it doesn't or won't why does cromer appear there? if it is really completely separate, why do you think they chose to tell a story they will never touch again?

in his lore explanation videos hongjoong said that halazia is not a separate universe but another pov of the story that was being told right before spin off, why take it as an alternate universe instead?

you mentioned the full moon at the end of crazy form, what do you make of the crescent at the start?

i love the insane attention to details btw, i would have never thought of concert performances like you did and if you have any ideas what the little sketches in newer concerts mean i would love to know!

PS: THE GIANT BALLS IN THE ROOM TOOK ME OUT I LITERALLY MADE CRYING NOISES WHILE LAUGHING EJFALJDLKASJDLJSF

First of all, thank you so so much for reading my slideshow, I was excited to see your account (another loretiny to gather perspectives from!) so I'm honored to have you asking the big questions. I have a lot of thoughts so I'm gonna put them below a cut but hopefully, I can give satisfactory answers. :)

First, I want to clarify why I approached treasure as a separate story. When I was working on this, I tried to gather as many different theories and takes as I could on the timeline and story and such, but a problem I kept running into was that when I saw theories that included treasure as part of the larger story in its entirety, I had trouble being convinced. A lot of the theories had to stretch quite a bit to include it, and I felt like separating it made it much more cohesive, regardless of whether it was approached as just a prequel or a sequel, or anything like that. That being said, I've been keeping my eye out since then for ways they could be trying to tie it back in because I desperately WANT them to. If you had asked me a couple months ago, I probably would have told you that I am doing so and that I just haven't seen anything that convinces me yet. HOWEVER. After reading the Golden Hour Part 2 diaries, my mind started churning and I felt something click that connected treasure for the first time, something was convincing enough. I'm currently chugging through finals but this is actually a huge reason I'm planning to remake the slideshow and rework it, because I feel like the information we learn about the history of Halazia and the new artifact really puts things into perspective. Anyway ig long story short, yes I think it links in now and my theory is relatively manageable (although too long to summarize here) so I'd just keep an eye out for the slideshow update.

I think the simplest answer is, ironically, simplicity. I think initially I took what Hongjoong said to mean some sort of alternate story and then after fumbling around with it, I landed on sort of a similar conclusion as that of Treasure which is to say I had a lot of trouble fitting it in with the rest of the story, particularly because of the way it constantly insists upon distinguishing itself from the rest of their titles. This is another one that will get rewritten in the update, along with Answer I believe.

A big stretch theory that would be kind of interesting to consider would be to wonder if perhaps the moon in this series has always been a crescent and everything they've experienced in "World Z" has been a dream, and I think I've seen theories similar to this floating around so definitely something I've considered. I actually kind of hope this isn't the case because I think it's kind of a cop-out, but at the same time, it would fit into the general themes we've seen from the story so far. I would LOVE to hear your theories on this because I was really stumped by it. Ateez is very intentional about those sorts of details, and so it really makes me wonder, but I haven't been able to figure it out.

Finally, in terms of the sketches at the concerts, I think there's a lot of symbolism in them and I want to analyze them deeper. If the content of the dances doesn't make it into the slideshow, I'll make a post about it and tag you. Funnily enough, I went into the concert thinking "I will pay such close attention to the dances so I can analyze their place in the lore" and then I proceeded to be so awestruck that I forgot to think about it and lowkey blacked out so I don't really remember anything about it hahaha. I'm gonna look them up and revisit them in closer detail soon.

Sorry, this is so long, and sorry that some of them are kind of non-answers. There's still so much I don't quite understand so I appreciate you pushing me! This month marks 1 year of being an atiny so I think there will always be more for me to learn and discover. Please feel free to send more questions if you have them! I love rethinking things and seeing what people notice that I miss. I would also like to say please check out the sources linked at the very end of the slides because a lot of my theories are pieced together from various atiny who are much smarter than me <3

PS Glad I could make you laugh lollll

[campgender]

“Interlude 3” from The New Topping Book (2003) by Dossie Easton & Janet W. Hardy

A role-play scene, played by "Akasha, " a novice top friend.

I woke up with great difficulty and realized my mind was full of thoughts of domination, weird fantasies about devices that I did not own but wished I did. I thought of my friend Richard, and a wonderful night we had shared many months before.

I called him and found him still in bed. I said, "God, I am really having a problem today."

He shifted in his sheets, I could hear it, and said, "Hungry?"

I was doodling, cracking pencil leads and then throwing them away.

"Yes," I said, and I was sort of half shaking, just wanting to make him beg on the phone, make him get out of his warm bed and kneel down, make him whimper, do anything. But I wanted more, so I held back and asked him to see me.

He half moaned and sighed, yawned again, and told me he had class that night. I told him to meet me afterward. He paused, and I felt like I was going to die.

"Richard, please. I'm going crazy. Do this for me, OK?"

"You want to hurt me?" he said softly, making me face it. This was back when it was still hard for me to accept that I enjoyed making men suffer.

It's difficult to describe what a day like that feels like, waiting for the hours to go by, trying to concentrate on work, going one step at a time.

When I am in that mindframe I can smell everything in the air, I can feel mist against my face in the cold air. The moon is more illuminated, the sound of my feet in puddles as I walk somehow thrills me with a feeling of authority.

I arrived at the cafe a few minutes early and waited in the lobby. Richard arrived a few minutes late. When I stood up and hugged him he laughed softly into my ear, "How're you doing?" I just moaned and started fingering his hair, tugging at it a little. We parted and I looked at him again, blinking. I felt weak, numb. I wanted to take him by the hair and force him to his knees. Instead I said weakly, "You probably haven't eaten yet. Can I buy you dinner?"

When his food arrived I stole his silverware and he laughed. "I'm serious," I told him in a low voice. "I am feeding you this entire meal." His eyes searched around the room and he lowered his voice, "Come on, people will see. We can take care of you when we get home. Let me eat."

Any other night I wouldn't think twice about him eating dinner across from me. But in that mood, on that night, I wanted to be the one feeding him. I wanted to make him part his lips each time I lifted the spoon. I wanted to make him beg with his eyes for more, or look at me longingly. Or I wanted to force him to do it.

I leaned over the table and we argued a bit about it, finally compromising in that I would feed him the first few bites and then let him finish. Knowing that he hated doing it but would submit to it for a few minutes was enough for now.

When we got into my room he sat on the edge of my bed then finally lay down, spreading his arms out and sighing tiredly. I slid down and moved on top of him, moving my hands up to his wrists and holding them down there. His eyes flickered open and he stared at me expressionlessly, waiting.

I consider it true, deep headspace when I am capable, without hesitation, of exercising acts of cruelty or power as if they were second nature. These are things that I would never do in a normal state of mind. On that night I slipped into it relatively easily, maybe because I had been lingering around the edges of it for so long.

I set up a series of short scenes, because my appetite was varied and I wanted to satisfy it all. Sometimes I want total resistance, sometimes I want fear, sometimes I want pathetic, eager submission. That night I wanted them all.

I used every single restraint device on him that I had, in every position I could imagine. I kept a hand over his mouth most of the night and wrestled him to the ground three or four different times, ordering him to feign resistance until I hurt him into submitting.

I roleplayed kidnapping him, interrogating him, seducing him, and fucking him. I had an orgasm just from the way he felt against me as I took him against his will, one hand holding his head back by a fistful of hair and the other over his mouth to muffle his protests.

For the grand finale I put him in my chair and handcuffed his wrists behind his back, taking my wall mirror down and putting it behind him ,so I could see his wrists and enjoy the way they looked while still facing him. "I put water in his hair to simulate sweat and messed it up, tied his ankles together, and told him I was going to kill him.

He put his head down solemnly and I walked around a bit, touching his skin gently, telling him how pretty and helpless he looked. He shifted, and struggled uselessly, then lifted his head to me and looked at me with his teeth clenched, saying "You have to let me go. Don't do this to me."

I leaned down and held his face in my hands, putting my lips close to his, licking them gently. "Kiss me goodbye, my tortured slave." He shut his eyes and leaned forward to kiss me, hungry, passionate, as if to seduce me with his mouth and tongue. This kiss was long, desperate, and when I broke from it he was breathing hard.

His eyes were pleading, yet strong. "I'm not afraid to die," he said softly.

He always knew the things to say. He was begging, yet he was strong. He was submitting, but he was still powerful. He amazed me.

We had played these execution scenes before so I didn't need to give him any instruction. He was to pretend he had about three minutes left to live, locked in some airtight chamber or given some poisonous gas, and he was to struggle yet remain brave until the moment I came to save him from his fate.

And he really knew how to play it. Perfectly, yet differently every time. The way he pulled at the handcuffs, letting them cut into his wrists as if it didn't matter,. The way he threw his head back to breathe with such pained difficulty, the way he looked at me through wet bangs with desperation, his lashes damp with tears.

I felt so close to orgasm, but it was a different sort of satisfaction. I just watched, emotionless, as his struggles became weaker and his breathing more labored.

Then it hit me, at once, it was like a sensual overload, like an orgasm but of the mind. I shivered, I felt a cold sweat on my body and suddenly I wanted to cry, I thought, "God, what am I doing to him?" I unfastened him quickly and slid into his arms, shaking, telling him I was sorry. He laughed softly into my ear and told me it was okay, that he was acting, and that I needn't feel bad.

But feeling bad makes me feel better, so I spent some time crying, letting him reassure me. We lay down in the bed together and eventually fell asleep after I had sufficient reassurance.

Waking up the next morning I felt a different kind of exhaustion. It's impossible to explain how much dom headspace rips the energy right out of you. Sometimes it takes me days to recover.

[wordsandrobots]

I was sorting through a few things today and realised I never actually shared the sketches I did from when I was trying to work out what grown-up Shino looked like for To Catch a Falling Star. Mostly because they are not great. But hey, let's call this back-matter for the fic!

[EDIT: OH RIGHT THAT WAS WHY I DIDN'T POST IT. Tumblr objecting to his having nipples. Right, OK, I guess we're censoring that and not the actual signs of massive injury. Cool.]

Things to note:

The scars I explicitly stated in the text are: scarring up his neck but not extending to his head, a large burn on his left flank , an oval-shaped burn around his whisker (yes, exactly the shape you're thinking), and a strip of replaced skin taking up most of his right thigh. The rest are generally covered by 'there's a fuck-ton of them'.

(I mentioned this in the fic notes but the reason there are no scars on his face is because his helmet sealed shut right before Flauros depressurised, protecting his head from all but superficial damage. This saved his life but didn't do much for the rest of him, which was injured by the explosions and the normal-suit attempting to self-repair damage.)

Shino starts out in the fic with his head shaved but when he grows his hair back, he's (at least initially) somewhat shaggier than he was as a teenager.

He is also considerably less hench than he used to be. He's still roughly the same dimensions, but not nearly as defined and is even a bit gaunt-looking in certain lights. Traumatic everything injuries will do that to a person.

His new ear-studs are all gold; unlike Kudelia's, there is no jewel.

When I was originally thinking about the prosthetic connector, you can seen that my ideas tended a bit more Trigun-esque than is perhaps warranted. That's because I hadn't yet seen this picture of Argi Mirage's arm from the manga:

The cap on the end should therefore probably be a lot smaller and flow more cleanly into the flesh, ala a whisker, and so the outline should more resemble a real-life residual limb.

His prosthetic should also be closer to the above than I drew it -- or rather, closer to Derma's, since they're made by the same person:

I imagine there being a greater amount of plastic and otherwise non-metal sections than Moon Steel shows with Argi. Certainly, from the shot above, it seems Derma's hand is inside a flexible glove instead of just being nakedly robotic (which makes sense, he works with children whereas Argi mainly hits people for a living).

Oh, yes, for those who haven't read the fic: Shino's prosthetic having five digits is *very much* significant and plot-relevant. Actually, thinking it through now, that would explain why (per my descriptions) Shino's fingers have exposed metal parts over a softer bed of tactile sensors: to better protect them given that they're more vulnerable to damage than standard three-finger manipulators.

Anyway, there we have it. Character redesign thoughts! I should probably have another go at drawing him at some point, though I would need to get back into the swing of sketching first. Maybe when I'm done writing! (On top of everything else I plan to do when the last fic in the series is finished . . .)

[sylvanfreckles]

I decided that instead of doing Febuwhump this year, I'm going to focus on finishing some works in progress. I have six over five fandoms (not counting anthologies like Dad Gum, which are ongoing sets of loosely connected stories and not concrete plots) that I'm planning on completing over the next three months or so (none of the old Supernatural ones...I haven't fully abandoned them yet, but most of the information is on an old laptop that I can get to boot up once a blue moon).

Info in full under the cut, with links to the fics in question, but I wanted to put up a little poll to gauge some interest (if anyone sees this lol)

1: Think of Me (Miraculous Ladybug) (Stronger Together series) Summary: Life finally seems to be settling down for Adrien Agreste. He's settling in to life in the Dupain-Cheng house, planning a memorial service for his mother, and spending his days protecting the city with Ladybug as Chat Noir. One day their United Heroez liaison, Nightlock, is attacked on the way to their regular rendezvous, and when they step in to rescue her Chat Noir finds himself separated from Ladybug as Nightlock's enemies close in on them. Chapters: 1 of 3 posted, might change to 4 or 5 chapters

This was originally part of a hurt/comfort bingo challenge that I couldn't finish, which is why it might end up longer now that I don't have the same time constraints.

2: House of Cards (Persona 4) Summary: When Ryotaro Dojima finds out that Yosuke is having a hard time at home, he doesn't hesitate to open his home to his nephew's friend. He may not know the kid very well, but he'll sleep a whole lot better knowing Yosuke's safe under his roof than living out on the streets of Inaba. Chapters: 1 posted, just started planning to expand it into a larger story. Probably 5 or 6 chapters at the end.

This is another bingo story, but I really liked the idea and wanted to expand on it. (No, *you* are the sucker for gruff father figures taking care of troubled teenagers, Dojima is not a substitute Aizawa)

3: Titan One (Resident Evil) Summary: Chris Redfield joins the DSO on an important operation--rescuing Leon S. Kennedy Chapters: 1 of 2

This one goes all the way back to Febuwhump2024. I left that challenge after the way the administrator reacted to anyone asking about reblogs, so this story was never finished. It just needs a second chapter to tell more of the story from Leon's perspective.

4: The Boar and the Hare (Fire Emblem: Engage) (A Conspiracy in Stone series) Summary: Alcryst wakes up, troubled by the lingering scars to both his body and mind. While Diamant and Citrinne urge him to speak about his ordeal, Morion and his wife face further treachery from within the castle. With implications rising against those they've put their trust in, a kidnapper in the dungeon with his own despicable motivations, and the possibility of a shadowy threat from the distant past facing them, they may be facing the greatest challenge of their lives. Chapters: 1 of 2, possibly changing to 3

Ran out of time during Whumptober...oh, goodness, 2023! Yeah, I'd say it's time for an update! This series is set in Diamant and Alcryst's younger days, after Alcryst was betrayed by someone close to him and nearly carried off to Elusia to be used as a bargaining chip for Brodia's emblem ring.

5: You and Me (Fire Emblem Awakening) Summary: I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once. Moments in time of a life lived together, of a bond that surpassed destiny, of a love that conquered all. Chapters: 5 of 12

My YOTP entry for 2023 (I'm noticing a pattern...2023 was a bad year for writing). I have the entire story planned out, I just couldn't finish it. It's part a retelling of the events of Awakening and part a new story, focused on Chrom and male Robin.

6: A Hundred Lifetimes (Fire Emblem Awakening) Summary: In time after time, in life after life, Chrom and Robin will always find each other. This is thirty-one of those times. Chapters: 10 of 31

This one was a little bit of an ambitious project for Whumpcember 2023. My goal was 31 AU stories of Chrom and male Robin, and I had a lot of them planned out but kind of lost steam. I've always wanted to finish this, though it might not be during the next few months. There are some really interesting AUs in here, though. My favorites are the wildlands AU (chapter 10) and the one that started life as "idk Chrom has a motorcycle lol" (chapter 4)

I'm hoping to finish all of these (with the except of Hundred Lifetimes, maybe) by the end of March, so if you see something you like keep an eye out!

[atomicpatrolcreation]

Catching Up With DC Comics

As the year ends in about three days, 2025 begins, and the DC live-action universe counts down to the release of its first movie under James Gunn, I've decided to catch up with DC's continuity.

To be honest, the last things I read from the publisher were the Dark Crisis and Absolute Power events. They were very good and entertaining, but I felt they could have been better.

With so many comics released this year, I was unsure where to start. For my own comfort and happiness, I decided to dive into the Green Lantern run (my all-time favorite hero along with Flash, although I prefer Hal Jordan as Green Lantern) written by Jeremy Adams.

This comic, the 7th volume, was released on September 19, 2023, as part of Dawn of DC.I haven't finished this ongoing series yet; I'm currently on issue #11, which is more than halfway through the chapters that have been released so far.

This is the first time I’ve read something written by Jeremy Adams. Honestly, I didn’t have high expectations for this run, as every time a new Green Lantern comic is launched, the publisher seems to focus on introducing new characters without depth or relevance instead of crafting great stories that develop and evolve existing characters. But I was pleasantly surprised when I read issue #1-it was so interesting, albeit a bit slow.

As I mentioned, I've only read up to issue #11, which means I still need to read comics like Alan Scott: The Green Lantern, Green Lantern Civil Corps Special, or the two tie-ins to Absolute Power.

I forgot to mention that I’ve already read Green Lantern: Knight Terrors, but I plan to reread it because there are fascinating details that any Hal Jordan fan would notice, which expand upon Hal as a character.

Back to the topic, this run is excellent, with wonderful writing, although at times it feels slow and heavy. Even as a die-hard reader of the character, I found certain developments exhausting. The art is unpredictable, to say the least—it’s good, really good, but there are panels that don’t fully convince me. I think it’s more about the coloring than the drawing itself.

I love how the series brings back characters like Keli Quintela, gives relevance to classic characters like Alan Scott, and canonizes characters created in other media, like Razer. That’s nice and refreshing.

However, characters like Sinestro, the Blue Lanterns, or the Star Sapphires are either sidelined without reason or not mentioned at all.There are some aspects about Sinestro that I don’t like—they’re few, but they leave me uneasy. At times, he feels like the pre-Flashpoint Sinestro, but the next moment, he’s just another villain trying to get rid of Hal or Earth. This is odd because their rivalry has always been more about how Sinestro felt betrayed by Hal for exposing his excessive methods to the Guardians, not about hating Hal or Earth out of disdain. Sinestro's disdain is generally reserved for Guy, John, and the other human Green Lanterns. It's worth noting that he doesn't see them as unworthy due to extraterrestrial xenophobia, but because he believes they are not fit to succeed or equal Hal.

On the other hand, as I’ve explained, there are things I absolutely love, and most of that revolves around Hal and Carol’s complicated relationship.

There are moments where you can feel the love between them—the way they care for each other but can’t be together because they fear (more Hal than Carol) being unfair to one another. They both love each other, and it’s clear and obvious to everyone. They’re not together simply because Hal’s life (and Hal himself) isn’t meant to stay on Earth.

He’s a hero and can’t sit still when he feels needed, whereas Carol wants happiness and stability. She wants a life free from the constant fear of whether the man she loves is alive or dead. She can’t handle that uncertainty for the rest of her life.

You see Carol trying to move on with her life—she can’t, but she genuinely tries. She tries to stop being romantically involved with Hal while remaining his friend and supporting him because she cares about him deeply.And the way they worry about each other is heartwarming.

The first seven issues, which center on Hal vs. Sinestro, are filled with Hal/Carol moments where they show how much they care for one another, especially Carol.

I can’t quite remember if it was issue #6 or #7, but there was a moment between them that gave me the “Say the word, and I’ll leave the Order for you” vibes—a line Obi-Wan Kenobi said to Duchess Satine Kryze in Star Wars: The Clone Wars.Their romance is so sweet and touching. Jeremy Adams has managed to make readers root for them and constantly hope they’ll get back together.

In conclusion, I think DC made the right choice in selecting Jeremy Adams as the writer for Green Lantern. Of course, the story could continue to progress splendidly as it has so far, or it could end as many DC stories do—poorly for both the characters and the readers. Only time will tell, but I sincerely hope it ends well. I’d love to see a Green Lantern Corps run that’s well-written, engaging, and long-lasting.

P.S: While writing this, I realized there are several elements taken directly from Emerald Twilight, The Spectre (2001), Geoff Johns' run, The New 52, and Rebirth (2016), though the latter is less prominent.

[randomfoggytiger]

Twenty questions for fanfic writers

Thank you for the tags, @baronessblixen, @xxsksxxx, and @slippinmickeys~!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

50 (ooh.)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

47, 807

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The X-Files; and The Beauty and the Beast (1987), once.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

"Mr. Mulder, I Know Something About You"

"No More Paranormal than a Change of Wardrobe"

"Gold"

"The Next Chance"

"Celebration"

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yeppity yep!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Discounting the fics that partially resolve their angst in a second part, I've got to go with "I'm Tired", "What Must a Mother Go Through?", "Latkes", or "Did You Really Have to Bring That Thing?"

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

At least 3/4s of 'em. Today's example will be "Time Passing in Moments” (still has a hold on my fuzzy feelings.)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet-- I've seen it done to others, however.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Smut's not for me~

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

While opposed to crossovers on principle, I've written three-- ironic, I know, namely: my first ever fic Son of Egypt (Prince of Egypt lite), The Hospital Where You Slept (While You Were Sleeping lite), and "I Know You. It’s What I Do." (for @amplifyme, who introduced me to The Beauty and the Beast 1987 and went above and beyond to pass on resources and interest. Incredibly grateful.)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope! Don't expect them to get stolen, either, unless they're multichapter pieces.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! Not opposed, though.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! I don't see it happening anytime soon, either, because my irl schedule is all over the place.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

MSR-- objectively, as well as personally.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have an idea blooming about reworking S8 in some way or form-- but there are already so many fics that tackle it from nearly every angle; so, I'll just reread those instead. (That, and I have to finish my S8 meta series; so....)

16. What are your writing strengths?

Pfffft... voice, I believe.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Characterization-- there's a reason I haven't created my own characters when writing, drawing, etc. ;)))

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Not opposed; but I'd have to learn another language first.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Wars. Must have been in kindergarten or first grade.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Proud of 'em all-- especially the reception to "Son of Egypt"-- but Bill Scully's POV ("Mr. Mulder, I Know Something About You" series) was such an unexpected... everything. That, and the discussion between Mulder and Scully in "My Religious Convictions Are Hardly the Issue Here" were wound around a POVs I wanted to tackle.

Tagging (if you want~): @welsharcher, @agent-troi, @numinousmysteries, @skelavender, @virtie333, @suitablyaggrieved, @nachosncheeze, @living-in-unreality, @aloysiavirgata, @cecilysass, @leiascully, @pennyserenade, @invidiosa, @settle-down-frohike, @piecesofscully, @thescullyphile, @p34chi, @incidental-ao3, @cock-holliday, @ragnarockz, @frogsmulder, @bakedbakermom, @cutelilcurtain, @dreamingofscully, @freckleslikestars, @amplifyme, @scullys-scalpel, @ghostbustermelanieking, @o6666666, @sigritandtheelves, @contrivedcoincidences6, @two-microscopes, @sixhours, @jessahmewren, @enigmaticdrblockhead, @wexleresque, @danascullysjournal, @seek-its-opposite, @frostbitepandaaaaa, @oohnotvery, @atths--twice, @thatfragilecapricorn30, @storybycorey, and anyone else!

[crackinglamb]

AO3 Year End Roundup, 2023

Normally, I'd do this in a couple days, but we're close enough for government work (and I'm on a deliberate break anyhow, so nothing new is being posted). Normally this would also be a tag game, but I haven't seen it floating around yet, so...

Hey, you wanna do your own roundup? Go for it. Yes, I mean you (looking at you, DAFF crew). Consider this an open invite. Tag me back so I can see what y'all have been up to.

Words posted: 241,283 . This total has had subtracted from it the amount that already existed for the fic that carried over from last year (which was WG, of course). So this is actually what I posted this year.

Additional Words Written: ~166K. I have several WIP's going on in the background. One of which is finished and will begin posting after New Year's. Another of which is about halfway done. The rest are...procrastination projects/getting the wiggles out. They may never see the light of day. But they count as writing, so they are included.

Grand total of words: 407, 283 (goodness gracious)

Fandoms: 2

Works: 12, 11 of which were new.

Highest Kudos: Into the Current, at 271 (just like last year, I'm not counting WG since it wasn't new). The Iron Bull/OFC, rated E, 79K words, complete.

Highest Hit Oneshot: The Mighty Fall, at 706. Sookie Stackhouse/Eric Northman. Rated T, 2900 words.

New Things I Tried: I wrote a trio of fics for True Blood/Southern Vampire Mysteries this year. The WIP that's finished and waiting for the new year is a continuation of this series.

I also posted a ficlet I'd originally posted here on tumblr for archiving purposes. Some Years Into the Future...

Fic I Spent the Most Time On: Driftwood, my Bullmance series. Writing ItC itself wasn't particularly long, about two months, but T3, the next fic, is still being written. At first it was all going to be one long fic, but then I decided I've had enough of epics (meaning any work significantly over 100K words), and split it into parts.

Fic I Spent the Least Time On: The Mighty Fall. I have finally gotten to use the tag 'I wrote this instead of sleeping'. 🤣

Favorite Thing I Wrote: Usually, I have trouble with this category. I'm poly, you know. But this year, I actually DO have a fave. Okay...I have two.

How Deep the Bullet Lies - a gift for @rosella-writes, for the Solas Lovers Exchange. Solas/Cassandra Pentaghast with a whumpy open ending. Rated M, 4200 words.

More Than Mere Stone - a gift for my beloved @ir0n-angel in the same exchange. Solas/F!Trevelyan, pure fluff. Rated G, 1500 words.

Favorite Thing I Read: In Twain, by CatC. It's everything I wanted in a 'background character gets caught up in events' fic. With a sizzlingly hot Bullmance and So Much Cole. I think I've read it three or four times already. At least. If you need something comforting and wonderful, I cannot recommend it enough. It's simply delightful, and so is the author. Rated E, 172K words, WIP.

Something I Finished: I did it, at long last. I finished What a Wicked Game to Play. It was the focus of NaNo (and took literally three days once I put my mind to it, hence much of the other writing I did that hasn't been published). It feels really good to have my beloved Behemoth marked with a green checkmark. The story itself isn't finished, and I'll eventually write more for Imogen and Co., but for now, it is Done.

Writing Goals for 2024 – Keep on keeping on. I want to finish T3, so I can start posting it. I want to finish a couple other things from the WIP list. There will of course be a new Fluffuary prompt list. Biggest goal, however, is simply not to burn myself out. I've started waiting to publish until a fic is finished, which has done wonders for my stress levels. No more posting gaps on an in-progress fic.

Allow me to Gush about some things I wrote this year.

(Otherwise known as: honorable mentions)

Out of the Dark - Lark Cadash was once going to have an epic fic to her name. But I'm Tired, and frankly, I'm bored with rewriting the events of DA:I over and over again. So I've turned her into a series, where I can just put up oneshots and short chaptered things in no particular order that add up to one big story. This is one of them. Post-canon, Lark goes into the Deep Roads to find the answer to a riddle that's bugged her for her entire life. She gets more than she asked for, with a side serving of sad Solas. I've had many of the headcannons included in it for a long time, with no home. Now, they're out there in the world. Rated G, 4800 words.

What Lies Beneath - my actual giftfic for the Solas Lovers Exchange. I had such fun writing this, and had ideas for it as soon as I received the assignment. I got to set something in the Hissing Waste, which is one of my favorite places in the game, as well as write a polyship for my two favorite romances. F!Cadash/Solas/Iron Bull, rated T, 3400 words.

Maker Damned Fools - back in 2020, I wrote a Varric/Hawke short little thing for the first Fluffuary. I always wanted to go back and expand it into a fuller story. Add it to the pile of Things I Finished This Year. From their meeting to post-canon. Rated E, 32K words.

What a Wicked Game to Play - *deep satisfied sigh* It took two years and ten months to complete, with near constant weekly updates. It's 412K words by itself (not counting the rest of the series). It contains about 350 embedded images of either screenshots or fanart. It is both the highest hit (over 90K) and highest kudo'd (1535) work on my archive. Affectionately known as 'the Behemoth', extensively written with my signature yeeting of canon. Imogen McLean, MGIT, Inquisitor, beloved of Fen'Harel. I am stupendously proud of this work, but I am also incredibly happy it's done. I set out to write an epic, and I damn well succeeded. Rated E.

See y'all on the flipside! 💕