#i am incapable of writing anything under 1K

[theicarusconstellation]

kinktober day seven

prompt: virgin // pairing: jegulus // word count: 1.3K // includes: cunnilingus, daddy kink, daddy!james, sub!regulus, trans regulus

“Hey, baby,” James murmurs, coming up from behind and wrapping his arms around Regulus’ waist. He presses his face into the other man’s curls with a deep inhale.

Regulus turns around and meets James’ waiting mouth with his own. He can taste pomegranate juice on his lips.

It’s been a long day for the both of them. Despite being new Hogwarts alumni, their collective fortunes make it so that they don’t need to work, but James insisted on enlisting into the Auror program anyway. He’s gone for hours at a time, sometimes at night, to complete his training, and every day, he comes back dead on his feet.

Regulus, on the other hand, does no work at all. Waiting for James is work enough. They might be a bit codependent, but he couldn’t care less, honestly. His world spins when James is with him, and it stops when he’s gone. That’s all that matters to him.

“How was training?” Regulus asks between kisses. James is always extra touchy after work, always cuddling and kissing like his life depends on it. Tonight though, he’s practically lifting Regulus up off his feet with his arms as his mouth travels up and down his neck.

“Good. Fine. Tiring,” James replies, the words rushed like he can’t get them out fast enough. Regulus pulls back for a moment, raising a brow.

“Are you alright?”

“Very,” James mumbles. Regulus sucks in a breath as the other man’s teeth capture the soft skin of his neck. “A little tense though. Missed you a lot.” He runs his hands up Regulus’ body until they’re cupping his face and kisses him fiercely.

There’s something different about the way James is touching him tonight. They’re usually very intense, sure, but they’ve never…he’s touching Regulus like this time, he wants something more.

They’ve talked about it. Sex. Talked about what they’d like and wouldn’t like. However, Regulus neglected to mention a very crucial detail that seemed pathetic to say in the presence of James Potter at the time, and he’s been too prideful to bring it up ever since. Now though, with James touching him more and more insistently, a question burning between his palms against Regulus’ hips, he knows he has to.

“Baby…” James whispers below his ear. Regulus shudders and leans into his chest. That same unspoken question wraps around them like a blanket.

Instead of answering verbally, Regulus loops his arms around James’ neck and hides his face in the man’s shoulder, hopping to allow James to press his hands to his thighs and hoist him up. James carries him through the flat to their bedroom despite his obvious exhaustion from Auror training. He sets him on his back on their bed and props himself up over him, barely letting him breathe before going in for another deep kiss.

“James,” Regulus half-gasps as James’ hands begin working Regulus’ shirt off. “I haven’t — I’ve never —“

James stops immediately and falls to his side so that he’s laying beside him, concern in his eyes.

“What? Reg, are you…you know I don’t care that you’re trans, right? You know that, right? I promise, Regulus, I don’t —“

“It’s not about that.” Regulus shakes his head. He feels his cheeks flush hot and bright. “It’s not…it’s…James, I’m a virgin.”

James’ eyes go wide, and his perfect, perfect mouth drops in a way that makes Regulus want to crawl under the floorboards and never come out.

“Oh. Oh, Regulus, I’m sorry. I should have — Merlin, how did I not — I’m so stupid. I’m sorry, baby,” he rambles, frantically kissing Regulus’ face. “We don’t have to — shit, I’m so stupid —“

“You’re not stupid, James, I was just too embarrassed to tell you,” Regulus snaps in the firm tone he always uses whenever James starts to berate himself. “You’ve been with so many people before…I just thought…maybe you wouldn’t want me.”

James blinks furiously, looking wildly confused.

“Wouldn’t want you? Regulus, I want you more than anything. I don’t give a fuck about experience or — or whatever people told you the standard was,” he insists. Regulus shakes his head, but a smile tugs at his lips.

“Besides, “ James continues with a new spark in his eyes. “I’m a very good teacher.”

“Hm?” Regulus’ breath catches when he feels the pressure of James’ hand on his waist.

“If you’ll let me…” James kisses him again, more tender this time, and his hand snakes its way under Regulus’ pants.

“I’ll let you,” Regulus breathes. His heart pumps faster in agreement, let you, let you, let you.

“We’re not going to do everything all at once,” James says, which has Regulus feeling oddly disappointed. “You’ve touched yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. We can go a bit further then.” James slides Regulus’ pants off, tossing them over his shoulder like they’ve offended him. Regulus’ legs are already shaking when James places his hands on his inner thighs and gently spreads them apart.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans.

Regulus’ fingers clench into a fist against the sheets as James attaches his mouth to his thighs, teasing at the skin with his tongue. James sucks dark hickeys into his pale skin, surrounded by bite marks that have Regulus swallowing back moans as they get closer and closer to the wetness between his legs.

“You still okay?” James lifts his head, and as he does, his glasses brush against Regulus’ folds. Regulus bites back a yelp, nodding feverishly.

“Yes,” he manages to get out. James doesn’t wait for further confirmation after that. He kisses Regulus’ hip, and then he lowers his head again, licking a slow line up between Regulus’ legs.

James goes at a leisurely pace, and Regulus feels every fucking second of it. James’ mouth sucks at the most tender of places, and when he bobs his head, the cool metal of his glasses teases Regulus’ clit with a shocking but welcome touch.

“D-daddy —“ Regulus whimpers the first time it happens, the word slipping out like it’s instinctual. He slaps a hand over his own mouth at this, thoroughly mortified, but James doesn’t miss a beat. He just hums happily, and his tongue takes on new enthusiasm as it flicks in and out of Regulus’ hole.

“Again,” he says lowly from somewhere deep within his throat. Regulus whines, his back arching when James licks at his hole again.

“Daddy,” Regulus whispers, “Daddy, please —“

“Good boy, baby,” James replies as he hooks his arms under Regulus’ thighs. Regulus can’t help the loud moan that he releases at James’ words. He wants to hear that over and over, wants to hear what a good boy he is, just for James.

“Fuck, Daddy —“ Regulus cries out much louder than he intended. James is properly sucking and licking at his clit now, swirling his tongue around it and lapping at it with quicker and quicker motions.

Regulus has no idea what an expert is actually like, but if he had to put a face to the word, it would be James. James and his masterful mouth and fucking excellent motions of his lips. The coil within Regulus’ stomach is so, so tight, squeezing and making him shake with need.

“Daddy, I’m — mm —“ Regulus’ voice breaks as James brushes his teeth against his clit, just enough to send a shock through him. “Coming,” he barely manages to gasp out before he’s rocked with the peak of his pleasure, his orgasm ripping through him in what feels like endless waves. James eats him out through the whole thing until Regulus tugs him away by the hair.

Tremors still spasm through Regulus’ body as he draws James up to his lips for a tired kiss. He can taste himself when their mouths meet.

“So, was I a good teacher?” James inquires with a smug smile. His lips are swollen, and Regulus suspects his might be as well.

“Teach me again tomorrow,” is all Regulus can breathlessly say in response.

James chuckles and pulls him closer, guiding him so that his head is against James’ chest.

“Anything for you, baby.”

[wisteriagoesvroom]

all of us, merely players

🟠 a carcar oneshot (with background implied landoscarcar, if you squint) ✏️ 2.2k words 🎭 theatre au 🍳rated T for the inherenT homoeroTicism of a workplace Throuple that oscar is trying to deny 🔗 read on ao3

snippet:

Oscar only remembers where Carlos’s hands go, the way they trail on Lando’s waist, for the purposes of stage blocking. Out of pure professional obligation. He is not starstruck by either actor or the way they recite their lines. He does not care that Lando sometimes makes calf eyes at Carlos out of sheer exhilaration from being around the Spanish nepo son. He is not jealous of the strange costar bond that they share. Or the communication they seem to exchange in silence, the rapport they’ve built where there was subtext in a single look. An unsaid cigarette break? in a single gesture, and the two of them would wander off to talk about god knows what gossip and vape flavour of the month. Oscar doesn’t need that distraction. Besides, there wasn’t production budget to hire a cast therapist for Oscar’s particular affliction anyway.

thank you @maaxverstappen for prompting this literally weeks ago, and @jusst-you-race for the once-over!

[sheps-shepherd]

Me: I just wanna do some writing, just some short and cute little things, nothing major

Also me: *is the most extra ass person on the planet that has to give everything a backstory and hidden purpose*

Me again: fuck.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Last sentence meme

tagged by @aban-asaara​!!

“If there’s anything else you think we should have, use the house purse.”

wow considering the usual unending state of my sentences this is... surprisingly short and straightforward. i guess thats what happen when you end on dialogue. this is from the holiday Hawke/DA2 fic i meant to publish on new years but thennnnnn it got longer than planned AS DOES EVERYTHING I WRITE. combined with the fact ive spent the last two days skiing and then immediately collapsing in a pile of uselessness means writing hasn’t happened as much as planned. but it’ll show up soon!!

ive been so bad at interacting with ppl this year (and last year) i dont even know who all is still active to tag in these things anymore... and my crippling self-consciousness stops me from talking to anyone new. so if you have any inclination to do this pls do and feel free to tag me!! otherwise uhhhh @leviathanmirror​ @commas-and-ampersands @tel-abelas-mofo​ @seekingidlewild​ @loquaciousquark​ @littleblue-eyedbird​ @lillotte17 

[boywivlove]

| Title | Lost My Way |

| Pairing | Min Yoongi x Reader

| Word Count | 1K

| Genre |  Pianist AU, fluff, slight romantic moments, slight angst

| Summary | Min Yoongi was a rising prodigy in the pursuit of his career as a musician, but after a car accident his hands are left with severe injuries. It takes years for him to find his way again, and he will never give up his dream, no matter what life throws at him.

| Warnings | descriptions of accidents and injuries.

| AN | My second drabble for the `BTS Bingo Collaboration` with `ficswithluv` and I’m really glad to get this out!! Im going to be posting a lot more drabbles in the weeks to come !

----- “Even if Im slow, I will walk with my own feet Because I know this path is mine to take. Even if I go back, I will reach this path Eventually  I will never   I will never lose my dream” ----

If you asked Min Yoongi before graduation, where he thought he would be in two years, it wouldn't be here. He would have answered that he would have liked to be training with the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra, having been offered a place with them straight after graduation. He never could have guessed he would be sitting in a physiotherapy clinic , his hands barely able to hold a pen, all because of a head on collision with a drunk driver. But fate has a weird way of messing with people's lives, doesn't it? 

He hadn't always liked piano, in fact, up until he was 15, he had never touched a key. Yoongi had grown up streetwise, not classically trained. But during a summer school program, he thought what the hell and took it as an elective. It was either that or track… no thanks. Yoongi was quick to learn how to play, his teacher noting that he was the quickest student to learn the ins and outs of playing. After he had been given the confidence to play, he had started to pride himself on his dedication to his skills, and to have it taken away from him because of one stupid, selfish ass hole… it burned him. It made him angry. He was supposed to make something of his life, to be recognised for his skill and get off the streets. 

The crash happened one night in June, he had stayed late to practice for his upcoming exam. The driver sped right through a red light, and right into the front of Yoongi's car, he couldn't remember exactly how he got to the hospital, but they said he was lucky to be alive, his head had been split open upon impact, his face and body had been scraped by the glass from the windshield. But the injury that he felt the most were his hands, severely impacted by nerve damage, when he first woke up he had thought they had been amputated, not being able to feel them at all. The doctors had said there was a 40% chance he would be able to control them again, but it wasn't 100%. And to Yoongi, that wasn't enough.

“How are you feeling Yoongi?” He didn't look up to address you, but he nodded his head in acknowledgement. You were the newest in a string of physiotherapists assigned to help Yoongi try and work through his injuries. The others Yoongi had driven away from his outbursts of anger. You were younger than the others, only a year or so older than him, and he had to admit you were pretty to look at. And you hadn't asked for a replacement therapist for him yet, it had been 6 months and you still stayed with him. Yoongi was grateful, even if he had a hard time showing it.

It wasn't that Yoongi didn't want to get better, he wanted nothing more than to be able to use his hands again, but at the same time, he was tired of trying and getting nowhere. He was angry. 

He hated that what happened happened to him, after he had worked too hard to get to where he was. He would never, ever get an opportunity like that again, it wasn't just his slot in the symphony and his ability to play he lost, his friends, he had eventually pushed them away one by one. He couldn't stand the sympathetic way they spoke to him, giving him advice they found on google on how he could get his hands back to the way they were. What the fuck would they know about anything. The only person he seemed to open up with was you, you didn't push him, but you did challenge him to do the exercises. 

The therapy was slow, infuriatingly so. It was like no matter what he did or how much he tried, he was incapable of the simplest of things. His writing looked like chicken scratch, he would barely grip onto anything without dropping it, even getting dressed took twice as long and made his hands ache, 

“You've made some great progress in the last year, I know it's not as much as you want it to be, but progress is progress.” 

It was a slow process, painstakingly slow. But after months of you challenging Yoongi with the physiotherapy, Yoongi could finally see some progress. He could write his name in a somewhat presentable way, he could fully grasp anything without it aching, but he would hold things slightly. It even hurt less to button up his shirt in the morning. You were so proud of Yoongi for sticking at it and trying as much as he can muster. The whole reason you took this job was to help people get their lives back on track, and to see Yoongi smile when he was able to do something with his hands made it all worth it. 

You had decided to pay Yoongi a visit today instead of being cooped up in the clinic for hours, there was no reason you couldn't do his exercises at home afteral. Yoongi had given you a spare key to let yourself in, and had told you the flat number that was his. You had brought him some lunch from a bakery you remember him saying was his favourite place to go after practice. 

Fiddling with the key in the lock you made your way inside and set the lunch on the kitchen table. You heard a soft off key melody being played in the next room, re must have not heard you enter. Making your way slowly to the door, you spot him sitting at his piano, his hands tentatively playing the keys. You could see the concentration that was etched onto his features, and the shaking of his hands. It was a serene moment that you loved to see with him, but it was cut short when you heard another off key moment, and his hands slammed into the keys, causing him to cry out. You rushed over to where he was in an instant, afraid he had hurt himself, he seemed to only then notice you as he let you inspect his shaking hands.

“You know better Yoongi, no straining your muscles!” You look over his hands, gently turning them over in your own.

“Whats the point of trying to get better if Im NOT getting better, what the fuck am I suposed to do! I'm no closer than I was when all this shit first happened!”

Your heart went out to him, it really did. You knew Yoongi's background from your little conversations during your sessions. You knew where he'd come from and how hard he'd trained and worked for this chance.

“That's not true, you've made great progress, a year ago you couldn't even pick up a pen, let alone play the piano like you just did . Yoongi I know it's hard, but a big part of recovery is the patience and time you put into it. It's not an overnight thing. You know that..”

He said nothing, just breathing through the numb feeling he now felt in his hands. He nodded slowly and looked up at you, your hands still holding his own. 

“What if it never goes away… Y/N what if everything I've worked for can never come true, and I'm stuck with a bunch of what ifs for the rest of my life….”

“Is that what you're most afraid of?”

He nodded, his shoulders shaking slightly. “I've worked so hard… I've put so much energy into this, I can't imagine doing anything else…”

“Yoongi, I know you can do this, you just need to give it time. And I know you're gonna get back on your feet, and you're gonna get over this… you've just got to give it time.” 

He was nervous. He was so fucking nervous. It had taken him years after the accident to get here. Watching just off the stage as the audition before he finished up, he was good, his melodies were flawless. Yoongi had to commend him on his steady hand. Looking at his own, he was full of doubt. He wasn't sure he would be good enough to do this audition. 

He walks out in a daze. The nape of his neck started to feel hot. He introduces himself, and he takes his place on the bench. He swallows, and looks out to the crowd. It was then he saw you enter quietly, taking a seat in the empty isle. You came. He suddenly thought of everything you'd said to him through his recovery, the promises of staying by his side, the encouraging smiles when he started practising again. Even when his sessions were over, you still stayed in touch with him and encouraged him even more. It wasn't until the judges panel motioned for him to start that he gave his hands a small squeeze.

Life hasn't been easy for him recently. Everything had changed for him. It was a slow process. But he's here, he made it. 

One step forward, two steps back. He'd never lost his ambition, it was just buried under fear and doubt. But now, he was ready to reach his dreams, and he had you as his light in dark times to guide him.

[benditlikepress]

so close but not near

my entry for the @giveusourtivaprompts August prompt challenge! thanks @justkindaoverhereobsessing for putting me onto it

<1k, set during 7x01, "you could have died"

read on AO3

Journal of Ziva David

2009

Summer/Fall #1

I am not sure this part of what happened counts as a new chapter. It was an inbetween time - a time where the realities of what had happened were not far away, but equally were not reality anymore. Not still summer but not quite fall as we travelled back to the States.

I thought revisiting my journals and filling in the blanks of what has happened since I was last here would help me process it. Bring a form of closure. As with most things, it is not turning out to be as simple as it was when envisioned in my head. Strangely, this is the part of the story I am finding the most difficult to write. Much of what happened after we left the camp is a blur.

We stopped off at a hospital but we did not stay long. The questions were intrusive and being asked too loudly and too quickly. I believe I walked out in the end, unsteady feet carrying me.

They accepted I was not going to talk yet. Took me to where the plane was waiting.

I remember moments of the long journey, here and there. The roar of the engine underneath our feet on the plane. Bile rising in my throat, because of turbulence or something else. I remember Tony, pretending he was not staring at me.

I cannot remember where Gibbs and McGee were sat but the two of us ended up next to each other on the plane, fate intertwining us once again. I have never known him to be so stiff, the space between us only inches but stretching on for miles. I wanted to tell him it was OK - that he did not have to cower away from me, but every time I tried the words caught in my throat.

Looking back now I understand why he was trying so hard, tiptoeing around me but trying constantly to engage me in conversation. He was trying to save something between us. Something he must have all but given up for dead. But my own mind was clouded - the reality of what he had just done affecting my ability to be receptive to anything surface-level he had to say.

I must have fallen asleep at one point because I remember opening my eyes to find him staring at me in a way that made it clear I had had a nightmare. He said "It's OK" but still held himself away from me, gap between our bodies, as though scared how I would react if he reached out.

I think I touched his fingers with mine, just for a moment. I can't be sure.

The one vivid memory I have from that journey is how clouded my mind was on everything that had happened before the desert. It was as though it had happened to someone else - feelings displaced by blood and dirt and screaming and darkness. If there was one thing that remained, it was guilt. An immediate feeling whenever I looked him in the face and saw what he had done for me after what I had done to him. How could I tell him it was alright if he touched me, that I trusted him, after I betrayed his in the worst way?

I do not remember saying a word until we were far over the Atlantic. I stared at his dirtied face and told him "you could have died" and he blinked as thought that had not occurred to him until that moment. Or it was my voice, rather, that had taken him by surprise. When I hear it in my head now it sounds so quiet and strangled.

I remember fixating on a small piece of broken-off plastic on the ground in front of us. I was sure Tony would be thinking me dazed as I stared at it, wondering where it had come from. Was it an essential part of its owner, or a meaningless extra? Would this piece being broken off change it irrevocably?

When we landed, it rolled under a seat. I wondered what that meant. If it was somehow a sign; a bizarre, material reflection of my own story.

I needed sleep more than an answer. But it would not come all night.

I found myself thinking of him, using him and abstract questions of where we might stand to push other more visceral memories from my mind. I resolved that same night the promise that I need to talk to him, but even as I sit here weeks later I find myself incapable of making the first move. Saying sorry is a given, but it is a hard emotion to combine with the realities of what has happened since. What we ended up going through - together and apart.

He is right in his silent assessment - what exists between us has never been tangible but now more than ever it is hanging in jeopardy. For whatever else there is brewing under the surface - feelings I had denied for so long suddenly making a poetic reappearance, I could not ignore what had come before. Rebuilding that must come first. I try, whole-heartedly, to remind myself not to take stead from his own drug-induced admission. If he even remembers it.

I am due at NCIS tomorrow to see Dr Bracco and begin my psychiatric evaluation. That is another issue that will require an entry of its own, but for now I know I must resolve this. If I see him tomorrow, I must take that as a sign.

If this summer has taught me anything, it is that life is short. I cannot keep telling myself he will still be there waiting when I am finally able to form the words to state outright what I did and apologise. He deserves to hear that, if nothing else. I owe it to him after what he did.

Even if that is all he will be willing to hear.

[ardentmuse]

Ahhhhh! Congratulations on 2k! I'm so happy for you! You definitely deserve it! Thank you for doing this fun celebration! Could I request 11 with Ned Stark?

Promises Swept and Promises Kept

Game of Thrones - Eddard (Ned) Stark x fem!Reader

11. Well, I’ve narrowed it down to two possibilities: yes and no.

Wordcount: 3.4k (welp, I give up. I am clearly incapable of 1k word limit. Sorry, I’m the worst)

Warnings: angst, ugh just all the angst, and fluff at the end, talk of war and death, but nothing outside canon, takes place at the start of Robert’s Rebellion

Masterlist

A/N: There are only like 5 Ned Stark imagines out there. WHY??? Ned is such a beautiful soul. I feel so so blessed to have gotten to tackle this and I clearly apologize for the emotional rollercoaster below. Also, sorry for two GoT pieces in a row. I’m doing these in the order they came in. 

You knocked lightly on the door to the solar even though you had been summoned. The door was ajar and you could just make out the form of Ned slumped over the desk, a crumpled version of himself, so small and withered compared to the massive force that was the man you were used to seeing so noble upon this seat, Lord Rickard Stark. But Lord Stark was dead now. And so was the young Lord Brandon. Your betrothed never seemed such a boy as he appeared now holding the mantle of Winterfell and the North upon his shoulders.

You knocked a second time, this one with more force, and with it Ned straightened his back and beckoned your entry.

“My lady, sit,” he said in a tone that mimicked his father’s voice so. The sweet nothings you were used to hearing from his mouth, soft late at night as you held hands upon the battlements, Ned begging you not to return home with your father’s men but to stay by his side until the end of his days, were gone. You were not meeting with your Ned but with Eddard instead.

You did as your lord commanded, settling your skirts as you leaned into the hard leather. Everything about this sight was imposing from the stout wood of the desk to the tension of Ned’s jaw to the stacks of parcels and parchments which created such a visible divide between you and the man you loved. You straightened your back, trying to appear the strong partner you knew he needed now in this time of loss and of war, but you felt yourself falter when he didn’t even look up to meet your gaze.

Ned lifted a hand to dismiss the maester you hadn’t even realized was waiting in the corner. He nodded and closed the door behind him, his chains making a gentle chime down the hall until they could be heard no more. But still, Ned did not look at you.

After several moments of awkward silence, Ned stood and walked over to your side. You smiled, thinking maybe he had wanted to wait for you to be properly alone before he offered your fingers a gentle kiss but he didn’t touch you. Instead, he grabbed the letter at the top of the stack, the seal already broken, and thrust it forward into your hands.

You looked at him in question but he had walked now to look out the window into the battlements below. The Lord’s chambers looked out into the courtyard, towards the stables and the western gate. The view of the hillsides stretched on your miles and if somehow the eye could continue on the horizon, you’d be able to see your own home. You had wondered often when you looked out on the horizon from your chambers in the years since your marriage had been promised if Ned was looking out at you too. And if the world were not curved, you might be able to look at each other. Only now, when Ned was indeed looking the way you had hoped all these years, it was to look at anything other than you.

You sighed and opened the parchment, prepared for news of another death or maybe a call to arms. Your heart clenched at the thought that it might be news regarding Lyanna, whom you loved as a sister, but when you took in the fish of the seal, you found yourself thoroughly confused.

As you read, you couldn’t even take in all the words. It was a jumble of phrases, each of which stabbed at your heart.

“Lord Stark… Catelyn the title of Lady of Winterfell… military support… promised in writing and word… Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell… shall see through and marry my daughter…”

The words were becoming even harder to read as you realized tears were rolling down your cheeks. Lord Hoster Tully wished for Ned to marry his daughter to fulfill the promise of her marriage to Brandon? Had the Lord not known of Ned’s forthcoming marriage? Of you?

You had been at Winterfell for well over a moon now, had come racing with your father and a few loyal men the instant you had received the raven regarding the Warden of the North’s demise at the hands of the Mad King. You had wanted to offer Ned comfort. Your dad had wanted to see you married before the inevitable horns of war were blown, but neither had yet to happen and now you understood why.  

“Ned, my love,” you called, which made his back visibly stiffen, breaking your heart in one fell swoop, “what is the meaning of this?”

Ned turned and looked at you for the first time since you had entered his solar. His eyes were rimmed in red and his skin was much paler than you would have liked. Ned was often out in the woods hunting or working on his swordsmanship in the yard. His skin was often kissed by the sun just as you would have liked to kiss it yourself. You recalled the man you met upon your first visit to Winterfell just a moon after you first bled. Ned smiled beside his siblings as you exited the carriage. He kissed your hand with the softest lips, never letting his eyes travel away from your gaze. His cheeks had been red when Brandon practically had to pull you away from him so you could greet Lyanna and Benjen properly. You remembered wondering if it was a sunburn or blush upon his skin, hoping beyond hope that it was the latter. And when he stumbled in his sword work, finding himself completely pinned under his brother’s training blade when he saw you watching from the covered walkway above, you knew for sure it had been exactly that.

You were betrothed before the next feast day.

“It means that if we want the support of the Riverlands, I must marry Catelyn Tully,” he said, sounding much more firm than he looked.

“And how do you intent to respond?”

Ned looked at the floor and swallowed. “Well, I’ve narrowed it down to two possibilities: yes and no.”

You felt the lump growing in your throat as you fisted your skirts. You hoped you would be able to get out words.

“Just like that,” you said, “One Lord comes calling and you consider throwing me away? Do you not love me anymore?”

“It’s not like that—“ Ned spit his words with what could almost be anger but he stopped himself. He took short steps forward before falling into the chair beside you. “It’s not about love. It’s about the promise my father made to Lord Tully and—“

“And what about the promise he made to my father? Huh? Or the promises you’ve made to me? You promised to marry me, Ned, to love me, to be my lord husband. Am I just supposed to ignore all those letters you’ve written, all those late nights by the fires hoping the servants might not see our stolen kisses, the times you’ve told me you’ve missed me and how you’ve longed for the day I’ll be in your bed and the names you’ve already considered for our children?”

You were screaming now, not so much at Ned for considering following through with this request – if Ned was anything, it was honorable – but at all the other insane circumstances that you knew would pull this world apart but that you truly had believed wouldn’t be able to take away what you and Ned shared. That was the rule wasn’t it? The oldest marries for politics, the middle marries for peace, and the youngest serves the realm? You were a daughter of the north, a house that served and honored the Starks for years, a house with a bounty of resources and wealth to match the Starks in power if you didn’t share your northern values. You and Ned were the smart match for the North if not for your own hearts as well. Would the North not want a lady of their own blood running their largest stronghold and providing council to the man who called it his?

“Sometimes the promises of a boy do not align with the responsibilities of a man.” Ned said the words to the floor, though his hand seemed to fumble upon the armrest of the chair, clearly desiring to hold yours but unsure if it wise given his indecision.

As you sat together in silence, the tears were flowing in earnest. As you hiccuped to catch your breath, Ned made his decision and reached over your skirts. He caught your fingers in his own and squeezed them, strong and sure the way you hoped you might be as man and wife someday, a partnership that leaned on each other for strength.

“I don’t know what to say,” you managed.

“Nor do I.”

Ned’s other hand came up to run along your jaw and soon your head was resting against his shoulder, his own tears wetting the crown of your head.

“Stay with me, Ned,” you whisper, feeling desperate for the man before you.

“What you are asking of me could tear apart the realm.”

“Any more than Rhaegar already has?” you spat, the anger flying through you more and more by the second, by each moment Ned doesn’t simply say yes to you. 

A moment of silence passed as you held each other before you must break it.

“Is there nothing we can do? Can’t you promise something better to Lord Tully?”

Ned gave a sad laugh, “What greater honor is there for his daughter than to be Lady over the largest of the Seven Kingdoms?”

“Queen?” you said without thinking, though at the words, Ned’s grip upon your back tightened before he began rubbing gentle circles into your flesh, his hand a little lower than would be considered proper had you not been alone. Even in this moment of pain, Ned gave you a little glimmer of what life might have been like as his wife if he ever gave you the pleasure. Your corset made the rub of his fingers feel like a ghost upon your skin. You wanted desperately to remove the garment, to allow him to touch your skin as he should. Part of you even wondered that if Ned could not be yours forever, perhaps he might be yours for a night, to allow you to taste the love you’ve sworn to all these years. But you knew Ned would never defile you so. His honor simply wouldn’t allow him to ruin you for your marriage bed, but maybe in a moment of weakness…

“I must leave at once, my lady.” Ned said the last words so quietly, fighting back pain. You hated to hear him so, but part of you was grateful that this hurt him too. “I must go give Lord Tully my word in person.”

“Will you return to me?” you asked, knowing how pathetic you sounded but honestly not caring.

Ned kissed your brow as he pulled your face away from his shoulder. He looked haggard, decades older than his years.

“I cannot say.”

You nodded. There was really nothing else you could do. Your eyes found your lap as you clasped your hands together. You loved the boy before you and as much as he was breaking your heart, you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to make this any harder for him in turn.

Ned’s hand found your chin and tilted your head upward, pulling you to meet his gaze once more. He looked like he wanted to say something but the words just were not there. Instead he gripped you a little tighter than you were used to and pulled your lips to his.

His kiss was tentative, soft and tender in a way only Ned could be. Ned was not one for many words – he never was – but the few fanciful phrases you were able to pull out of him over your engagement always came after moments like this, where he held you in his arms and took your lips against his when he thought no one could see.

When you finally gave in, leaning forward and tasting what you could of his glorious mouth, he poured his passion into you. It became the kind of kiss you assumed the common men spoke of when they praised whores. Ned had never given you so much of himself. His hands found your ribs and held you tight to him, pulling you from your chair and into his arms. He sat you upon his lap like a man carried his bride, caressing your sides as he explored your mouth with his lips and his tongue. You couldn’t stop yourself from holding tightly to his face, taking life and breath from him as if you would survive not a moment without it. The musk of him was setting your senses on fire and you felt the pain pull tight in your chest as his mouth left yours for only a moment, returning as quickly as it could to love upon your jaw and your neck with renewed vigor.

“Oh, Ned. My Ned,” you breathed as you held tightly to him. He was sucking upon your earlobe now but at the sound of the word ‘my,’ he completely stopped his movements. And after a quite moment, only your mutual breathing filling the void, Ned buried his head in your neck and cried.

The tears raked through his body, shook his core, and echoed in the room. You worried servants would come to check on you the boom was so loud but they seemed to know better than to open a closed door. All the pent up sadness, at the potential loss of you, the only constant left in his life after the death of his mother, his father, and his brother, the kidnapping of his sister and the war brewing just a few hundred miles south, was finally being released.

In your arms, Ned found the comfort to feel the pain he hadn’t felt since he put on the armor of Lord of Winterfell. And in your arms, he would leave it.

Minutes it took for Ned to calm down. And without warning, when his breathing grew stable, he picked you up and placed you on the settee by the window, allowing you to lie down among his things in his sacred space. He kissed your brow, allowing himself the chance to touch your soft lips, now red and puffy at his attentions, once more with his fingertips.

“I must leave Winterfell at once. And so should you.”

With strong strides, he walked towards the door, leaving you stunned.

Just as his hand found the doorknob, he turned to you.

“My lady—Y/N—I, I love you. No matter what happens, I know that I have never lied about loving you. I love you now and I venture I always will.”

And with that, he left his solar, and your life, for the great unknown. You sat for hours in that room, watching the stables and courtyard out the window until Ned and a handful of trusted men loaded up horses and began the long journey south to the Riverlands.

A year had passed since you last heard from Ned, not that you asked for any updates. Your entire energy had been focused on supplying the northern armies with food and shelter as they headed south and keeping the women and children of your keep warm and feed throughout the chaos. Ravens were few and far between, just the rogue notes from your men as they stopped at the inns on the high road, given you estimates of their needs and their returns.

The first you heard of Ned after he called upon your father’s armies just a week after your return home was a message that the Lord of Winterfell and his men would be resting at your residence on their long journey home, now that the war was won.

There was no mention of a Lady Stark.

You consumed yourself with preparations, daring not to ask too many questions about the fallout of the battles in the south. You knew of the destruction of the city, the death of the Mad King, and the downfall of many of the great houses but the specifics could be left until Lord Stark called the noble houses to his keep to inform them of the new regime running the Seven Kingdoms.

And so when you stood in the courtyard alongside your most trusted advisors, ready to greet your father and your lord, you were preparing yourself for the painful sight of him helping a pregnant Tully bride down from her carriage steps as well.

Ned and your father came riding through the gate together, though no carriage followed. You ran to your father with tears of joy, so grateful for the gods’ protection in seeing him safely home. And when you turned to Ned and he smiled at you, you hoped he might have found it in him for once to listen to his heart instead of his head.

But then you saw it, the tiny bundle in Ned’s arms, the dark head of hair so similar to his own and the little arms that fought to get out of the wool swaddling cloth. A true baby of the north.

A lump grew hard and heavy in your throat as you remembered yourself and dropped in your bow at your lord.

“My lord,” you said, gazing at the ground. You saw Ned’s fingers out of the corner of your eyes, helping to pull you back to standing. You took them and looked at the man who had your heart since you were but two and ten. He seemed sheepish, so different from the warrior you assumed he had grown into.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Lady L/N.”

“Lady Catelyn had a child?” you said with eyes down to the little boy, trying to hide the hurt in your heart at the thought that Ned’s first born would not be of your flesh and of your womb, a promise broken in exchange for another.

Ned swallowed, “Yes, she did, though this is not he.”

Your eyes flicked up to look at him full.

“The Baratheon babe is safely with his mother and father in King’s Landing.”

Ned was smiling full now, one of almost pride at you. Lord Tully was indeed willing to give up Catelyn’s place of Lady of Winterfell at the prospect of something greater. Ned took your council, the way a Lord should his lady wife. And the smile on his face let you know just now that he had spent a year fighting to guarantee that you could be just that.

Your heart swelled and you went to hug him, to shower him in the kisses you prayed you might be able to someday, but then the baby in Ned’s arms cooed again and you stopped yourself mid-motion.

And then everything came crashing down on your once more as tears filled your eyes. Ned fathered a bastard? The thought was so incongruous with the man you knew and loved. The idea of him sleeping with just anyone hurt even more than the idea of him finding another bride.

“My lady. My love,” Ned said, pulling your eyes to him once more, though the wheels of your brain just kept churning. His voice dropped to a whisper “I have never been disloyal to you. I would never choose to bring such shame upon your name. You will be my wife in truth and we shall only know each other for the rest of our days.”

“But—“ you began in protest but Ned’s body shot forward, keeping you close so his voice could maintain a whisper.

“How much did you love my sister, my sweet? Please tell me.”

You swallowed, feeling the loss of Lyanna acutely. “She was my closest and dearest friend,” you said in sincerity.

Ned smiled as he repositioned the baby so he might grip your hand. Taking a moment and rubbing his fingers over your knuckles, he continued, “Then, I need you to promise me that I can trust you with a very important secret.”

You looked down at the babe, at the dark hair upon his head and the cute button nose and the deep-set eyes so telling of his Stark roots. And immediately, like a candle flicking to life, it all made sense. You pulled Ned’s hand towards your lips and kissed it, nodding in turn as if your love for him was not confirmation enough, before taking the baby boy into your arms to surround him in motherly love. 

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills, @hazelandcoconuts, @yallgotkik

[one-way-dream]

i think i am incapable of writing anything under 2k words bc i wrote this “side thing” in addition to the OTHER “side thing that got a bit too long” and the “side thing” is 3k words (when i intended 1k) and still going while the “side thing that got a bit too long” is about 7k (when i intended 2k) and is a little over halfway done

[coepiteamare]

2020 in fic

2020 was terrible year but an okay year of fic considering i didn’t really write till october. 

STATS: fics: 1 fic; i wrote drabbles because i can’t write long fics. but i wrote 8 drabbles? female pov: 8 male pov: 1 (i thought i had more but nope, they’re all wips) both pov: 0 (i haven’t written anything long to justify both pov) total word count: (lol, i’ll update this later but i know it’s absolute shite) OVERALL: Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted? both! i started this blog in january, wrote two things, then forgot about it because life kind of took over. because i didn’t write for so long, i didn’t intend on coming back, but i realized that i had a couple wips for the dictionary of lovers that i never uploaded so i came back sometime in october? (i published one and then kind of tucked away the rest because i wasn’t sure what i quite wanted to do with tdol)

i started off this year intending to write and finish tdol (26 drabbles), but that didn’t end up happening, so less. but when i stopped, i also didn’t think i would ever come back to posting, yet here i am! and i’ve posted drabbles and have a bunch in the wip folders, so more! tl;dr: less than i thought but also more than i thought. What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? i don’t write cross fandoms anymore (though that was my start in ff, my peak poetry days), but i never thought i would write 2nd pov/memberxreader because i started off writing memberxmember fics for bangtan, so i suppose that!  Did you take any writing risks this year? most definitely. i never thought i would write 2nd person pov, but here i am. and i didn’t think i’d write memberxreader, but here i am! (a bundle of surprises i am) 2nd person pov is actually a lot harder for me to write, but i’m getting better at it. 

pens and paperwork actually has a lot of dialogue and less purple prose: i think it’s the one piece i wrote that was less emotion based and more plot, which is very out of character for me. it’s also a little (a lot) different than what i normally write, so that was also a risk, but i enjoyed writing that one so much: it’s definitely one of my favourite pieces and i want to flesh out that universe a little more. Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year? write! longer! fics! i want to rewrite “the dictionary of lovers” and put it together into a long fic. i have a multiverse fic that i’ve been planning out, and i want to finish 9,719km and make it at least 10K: i want to practice fleshing out characters and worlds. my goal in general is just to write a long fic (9,719km, i’m looking at you). and also return to writing memberxmember fics too (i have a namgi fic in the works and there are def taekook ideas). get better at writing openings and closing and titling fics. god, i suck at titles. 

also, i would very much like to publish most of my wips. so, future violet, here’s to hoping you do that.  What were last year's goals? this is my first year, but last year, my goal was to just start a writing tumblr and write! and i’ve managed to do that! so yay  🎉  BEST AND WORST: My best story of this year: nine thousand, seven hundred nineteen kilometers. i love it to bits and pieces and i had it in my drafts for a while? because i wanted to publish it as a full fic but who knows when that will be, so i published it anyways. also this part was so much better than the other parts, so no regrets, i suppose. i think it is my favourite piece i’ve written, along with pens and paperwork, because it’s so different from what i’m used to writing? (both are also yoongi fics, funny enough) i definitely think it’s less purple prose (though 9,719km def has elements of that still; can’t get it out of my system) so hs me would not have approved, but i love it to smithereens. i try to not read any of my fics after posting them though because i’m incapable of letting it be: i have to perform autopsies on it, pick at the bad parts, cut open the good ones for flaws, until it’s virtually unrecognizable and ruined, so i can’t bring myself to reread it, but as of now, from what i remember, i think it’s my best story.  My most popular story of this year: love is a losing game (we played anyways): i’m so flattered and in awe that people actually liked this story because it was so hard for me to write. it’s only 1k and it took me a good week before i could publish it because i kept tripping over the language. and i felt (still feel) like pre-dialogue and post-dialogue are two different stories, which was extremely frustrating for me. i think i can write dialogue (this story is a different beast, just because of the nature of the beginning) but it’s really hard for me to combine poetry/prose with dialogue. i feel like it throws it off but the only other way to write it would be in a short bit compilation (i’ll write fics like that again someday) and i didn’t feel like it would work for lialg. (funny story: it was actually a royalty!namjoon fic where he wants to give her the world but it turns out she was a spy and she essentially burns his kingdom to the ground) i’m honestly not too happy about how it turned out but i’m still glad people enjoyed it!  Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: none! i really didn’t expect to have an audience, so people stopping and reading my fics? wild. Most fun story to write: pens and paperwork. that drabble was so much fun to write and i loved the characters. also gave me the least amount of headaches, probably because it kind of wrote itself once i started. i really do want to expand on that universe, just because i want to revisit it and explore 007′s background (maybe write about 005 and 006 as a spin off though whether i want to make it taexreader or taexjimin is to be determined) and yoongi’s journey in the MI6/NIS as well!

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: probably pens and paperwork? i’ve always known that yoongi was a dynamic and versatile person but that fic really did it for me. i can totally see him being this sarcastic, dry person, but also someone with a lot of love and care for others, like he does with 007 by bringing her alc when she’s in pain and generally trying to distract her as she’s getting stitches. someone who’s as loud as they are quiet. i definitely want to write more soft yoongi though. 

Hardest story to write: i am your ocean (your little mermaid). hands down. i don’t know if tae is just really hard to write (for me) or if that fic was a monster of it’s own, but i spent two+ weeks working on it. it went through so many storyline revisions and changes and then even after i had a decent idea of the final plot, it took me another week to write fucking 1.4k. absolutely awful. do i like it? i don’t even know. but i don’t like hoarding fics, so it’s out there for the word to pick at, to dissect it’s anatomy, to taxidermy it.  Biggest disappointment: the movietheaterworker!oc x marvelnerd!jk fic that i never published. i don’t know if it’s just bad or it’s just not what i wanted but i haven’t touched it since october (and idk if i want to look at it) so that says something. 

in terms of something i published, probably “heart” from tdol. i re-read it recently and it just felt really bleh to me? i should have more attachment to it considering it’s my first drabble on this account but nope. some parts of it are cute but it’s so clunky. i don’t like it.  Biggest surprise: pens and paperwork or monsters under the bed. pens and paperwork because of how much i loved it/how fast it wrote itself and how much i liked it afterwards, even though it’s written in a much different style than i normally write? monsters under the bed because it was written with no direction and honestly feels like a fever dream (though i did have a backstory to jk’s character and his relationship with oc), yet it still was well liked! i kind of posted it as the start to the “things you said” drabble collection and was like here goes nothing, but people seemed to really enjoy it!! which was very surprising. and my butterfly, noor, called me the bob ross of fanfiction (that still cracks me up) so!  Most unintentionally telling story: hmmm...probably anything from tdol. i’ve been so fortunate to have such beautiful, healthy, intimate platonic relationships, but the one (two if we’re being generous, which we most def are if counting it) romantic relationship i’ve had was quite awful and extremely toxic. (ask me about it if you want to: i like to rant about it from time to time) so tdol is a creation of wishful thinking, of what i think a healthy relationship should look like, through the ups and downs, the highs and lows. because i don’t have experience with healthy romantic relationships, i def put a lot of my friendships and bits and pieces from those into tdol. and it’s not published yet, but there’s an unwritten piece from tdol where oc talks about how she doesn’t believe in love but jk very much is a hopeless romantic, and that’s me writing me into a fic so. 

HIGHLIGHTS + WRAP-UP: Favorite opening lines:

(god, i suck at opening lines)

tdol “perfect” + coming back home to you would always be one of the highlights of my day. whenever the sun shined for a little too long, a storm would hit, but this--coming home to and closing the day with you--was one of the few things in life that was completely and utterly mine to have, out of the reaches of whatever was out there that made sure the road was never too smooth. [note: this isn’t THE opening line but we’ll ignore that]

9,719km + paris is much quieter than the places you’re used to, but it’s not a bad thing.

Favorite closing lines: (i struggle so much with these) i’ll be your ocean (your little mermaid) + the enfilade of rain continues and pelts against the windowpane, against your balcony floor. 

monsters under the bed + but when he opens his eyes again, to the blaring 1:01AM of his clock, you’re no longer by his side. 

9,719km + p.s. did you miss me? + maybe he’s just as potent as a habit, just as hard to kill. 

Favorite lines in general: i’ll be your ocean (your little mermaid) + you let the words fall from your lips, dribble down your skin like water droplets, and dissipate in the ocean of your feelings. watch them dissolve into the seafoam of your being and sink down, down, down. + it feels a little like that now as you card your fingers through his sweaty locks, dyed red like ariel’s, bright red against the blue of both your feelings. 

love is a losing game (we played anyways) + he looks at you like you hold the secrets of the universe, even as he tears through the valley of your breasts with the claws of his ambitions and devotion. + (the summary line: he builds cathedrals in your name, whispers prayers into your skin, and you shatter the stained glass windows of his dreams.) 

9,719km + nothing has been able to keep him out: not the gallery treasury in newport beach with its earthquake proof alarm system, not the cartier vault in new york city with its impressive randomized laser grid, and certainly not the flimsy, fickle alarm system of your heartbeat. 

LIST OF COMPLETED STORIES: [note: does tdol count? i’ll put it here anyways. also i suck at titles] the dictionary of lovers: heart the dictionary of lovers: confirmation the dictionary of lovers: perfect love is a losing game (we played anyways) monsters under the bed pens and paperwork i’ll be your ocean (your little mermaid) nine thousand, seven hundred nineteen kilometers you feel like a holiday

WIP TEASERS: welcome to wonderland (we’re all mad here) (aliceinwonderland!au) summary: queen of hearts!jk x alice!reader

excerpt: be careful in the woods, they whisper. so many girls have gotten lost and made it out with just their bodies intact, bones rattling hollow and mind astray. the girls mumble about tea parties with madness, about croquet games with the heads of the executed, before they are wheeled off to hospitals, still talking to the wall. 

be careful in the woods, they warn. it preys on your fear and feeds on your sanity, if you linger too long. 

i know you (i’ve walked with you once upon a dream) (dreamwalkers!au) summary: oc works for the department of dreams: bureau of night terrors as a dreamwalker. jungkook has chronic nightmares.

excerpt: They tell lucid dreamers to look down at their hands, notice the garbled image to recognize they’re in a dream. Your brain backtracks to what it last remembers. A click of the seatbelt, Jimin’s soft “sleep tight,” the cool air inside the tank. Darkness. You grip the wand a little tighter. 

Dreamscapes are weird, you think as you conjure up an ironwood table and a cup of earl grey. The fabric of reality is so thin, so permeable and malleable with the right amount of knowledge. If you think really hard, slip a hand through that curtain, you can still feel the cold air lingering on your skin from the tank. You look down at your watch. 8:44. Eight hours and fourty four minutes left to wander through other people’s nightmares. 

if the world was ending (you’d come over, right?) (au where the world slowly comes to a halt and you find yourself calling your ex. inspired by “if the world was ending” by jp saxe and julia michaels) summary: ex!tae x female!reader

excerpt: The world starts to freeze over when you’re on the bus ride home. 

Pedestrians pause in the middle of the sidewalk; cars decelerate in the middle of accelerations. The chatter in the bus groans to a stop, like a radio after the plug has been pulled, as everyone slowly freezes. Your hair, which once fluttered in the breeze, gently falls back into place. 

The traffic light is red. 

You pull your earbuds out. It’s quiet. Too quiet. 

“Hello?” you whisper, shaking the arm of your neighbor. No response. The silence is loud, almost deafening.

“Hello?” you walk down the aisle to where your driver sits. His face is still. Annoyance clouds his eyes, chest puffed like he was about to take a deep breath. One he’ll never take again. 

You shuffle your feet back and trip on the stairs, back slamming against plexi glass and metal.

The light never turns green. 

untitled (mermaid!au)

excerpt: Jungkook loves the sea, but he thinks he might like you a little bit more. You, with the sea breeze in your hair and summer storm in your eyes. There’s something about the way you sparkle like the ocean top, sun skimming across skin, that makes him think you might be more than human, a trick of light, an optical illusion.

untitled (desert princess x pirate!jk au) summary:  i love you the way ocean clings to shore, the way the horizon wants the sea, but, darling, we were never meant to be

excerpt: you’re pretty sure the ocean is enchanted, bright blue waters glimmering with magic. nothing else could explain how jeon jungkook, notorious pirate and thief, owns eyes that twinkle like the night sky and a face that puts the sunset to shame, unless he managed to somehow steal those too. you wouldn’t put it past him. + they name hurricanes after girls, he tells you. a prayer for gentleness, a hope for small casualties. huh, you reply, whoever came up with that idea must never have been caught in the storm of a girl. 

IN CONCLUSION: 

wow, could i be any more conspicuous about which drabble i like the most? why do i use so many parenthesis? also, i suck at titles and opening and closing lines. but hey, i’m trying, and sometimes that’s all i can ask from myself. i wrote a lot less than i thought but also more than i thought, so cheers to that. maybe next year will be better, maybe it’ll be worse. who knows? hopefully it’ll read easier though.  p.s. if you’ve read this and if you’ve read anything i’ve written, thank you for reading. thank you for sticking through the calamity of my thoughts, through the hurricane of my mind. you have no idea how much it means. i hope i’m able to make your day a little better, a little brighter, a little light in this time of darkness.  p.p.s. i’ve made a few friends on tumblr. i won’t tag them because i don’t want to put them through this awful clusterfuck of words, but if any of you read this, hi. you’ve really shaped my tumblr experience and i’m so glad to have met you all.  noor (papillionsgf): my butterfly, i adore you. you were my first tumblr friend and you’ve been nothing but sweet to me. thank you for talking to me and thank you for our lovely conversations, for letting me squeal about tfua, for  i absolutely adore you.  hana (cutechims): the two of us are awkward potatoes, and i still need to rewatch batman begins, but thank you for always being so sweet, so kind. i love talking with you and reading everything you write. you make me smile when i see you on my dash, with every response you send. jlin (bratkook): i slid into your tumblr dms because you’re so talented and so awfully pretty. i absolutely enjoy our conversations about rich folxs and karens, and i really hope the pandemic comes to an end because i would love to meet you in person and teach you aerial! (also i will bake you lots of cookies) erin (yeojaa): hi lovely. i adore you to the moon and back and to be honest, you still intimidate me because i love your writing so much, but i wanted to say how much i adore you and how i love talking to you. i hope you’re taking care of yourself and staying warm and i hope to get to know you better in 2021!

notes: adapted from lj, where i started writing! i used to see this a bit on lj (or maybe it was the circle of writers i followed) but i figured i’d bring it over here because it’s a good reflection piece and tumblr feels like a good place for that. 

[writinredhead]

Star Wars Creator Meme

I’ve been tagged by @warqueenfuriosa and @coffeeandtin Thanks, guys! This was fun!

You’ve been tagged in the Star Wars Creator meme! Pick 1 - 10 works you’ve created (fic, art, gifsets, aesthetics, videos, playlists, etc) & tell us why you’re proud of them! Then tag your friends!

1. Nights Turn Into Days - Cassian/Bodhi 4.8k T

This was my first SW/RogueOne/Sniperpilot fic and how I found my way into this lovely fandom. It’s the first fic I wrote present tense and I’ve stuck with that style ever since. It’s a little like figuring out whether you’re left or right handed. Besides all that, I’m a total sucker for Character A thinking B is dead, but oh no, I didn’t confess my love yet!

2. Sleepless Nights and Restless Souls - Bodhi/Cassian/Jyn 4k T

Aka the OT3 fic I am protective af over. My first ot3 fic and it took me ages to write, because I wrote it during a time depression and a few other things kicked me hard. But at the same time, working on this fic gave me something purposeful to do and I looked forward to seeing it finished. It helped me quite a lot. Now it’s one of my favorite works. Again, thank you @sassysnowperson for all the advice and support with it. 

3. In You I've Found A Home - Luke/Bodhi 3.5k T

This was originally supposed to be part of the SW Rare Pair exchange as a treat, but I am slooooow and kind of gave up on it for a while. Thanks to @misskatieleigh and her ideas/cheering it did get finished eventually. The fic is basically five kisses in different settings and I like to think it helped me get better at writing kisses. *blows a kiss to the stars* for Bodhi Rook ;) 

4. When You’re in My Heart, I'm out My Mind - Jyn/Bodhi 6.5k E 

My F/M smut debut! Honestly, I never thought I’d write anything like it, but you do what you gotta do when your five people and a cornchip ship has a dramatic lack of smut. Somehow I’m incapable to write PWP though, so a whole bunch of feeling slipped in and I’m pretty proud of the emotional setting, esp. in the second chapter. 

5. Three Thirds Make A Whole - Bodhi/Cassian/Jyn 8.8k T

My baby! The WIP I love to hate and hate to love! I’m writing on and off on it during my one-shots since about August last year, so, yeah, progress is slow. But I firmly believe it’s gonna be finished at some point! They still have a lot of issues to work through, after all. There is so much to explore in their dynamics and I like to believe it’s working out so far. 

6. Put Your Love On Me - Jyn/Leia 1k T

Another first, whoot! My first femslash! I tripped and fell into another ship and couldn’t but write fic for it. It’s pretty short, but I managed to cram some feeling, humor and inappropriate consumption of birtday cake in. 

7. Call Me Home - Jyn/Bodhi 2.6k E

A result of asking for smut prompts and being bombarded with gorgeous prompts from my enabling wonderful friends! I started getting the hang of ‘smutting’ with this, but it’s mostly just fluff and goofiness with some smut on top. 

8.  Saving What We Love - Cassian/Bodhi & Tico Sisters Feels 4k T 

This was something I just had to write. I just needed to have a fic with Paige Tico alive and so I combined it with a what-if headcanon of Bodhi adopting the sister and raising them in the rebellion. To top it off, Bodhi and Cassian are in a sort of Han/Leia ex-lovers relationship which let me explore lots of reunion and re-found family feels. 

9.  Hold Me Tight - Luke/Bodhi 1.9k E

Does this count as my fist M/M smut? Hm, not really. But before this I hadn’t written smut in ages and I was so rusty! Luckily I had @anamelesstraveler as a partner in crime and it turned into a nice ;) feelings-filled time for Bodhi and Luke. 

10. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang - Cassian/Bodhi 16.7k  M  

This was a lot of fun to write. It started out a just a couple of tags under a gif of Diego and Riz in suits and turned into a game of fic ping-pong between @semisweetshadow​ and me (It was great to write with you, friend!). After it was finished on tumblr, we decided to make it a full fledged fic for ao3 and somehow another 11k of prequel happened. Oops. ;)

Aaaand I tag: @misskatieleigh, @sassysnowperson, @anamelesstraveler, @cynical-harlequin, @notebookishtype, @thestarbirdfromtheashes, @semisweetshadow​, @oh-nostalgiaa, @rapidashpatronus @yavemiel Have fun! :D