#i even have some drafts for those i just need to finish. but it hasn't been a priority

[rafesbabyg1rl]

The Watcher ~ Part One

Summary: Rafe Cameron x Reader, Stalker!Rafe x Pogue!Reader Reader's parents work late on Friday nights, which she spends alone. Except Reader hasn't been alone in a long time, not that she knows of at least. Rafe has watched you for years, he's very good at it. He has no plans of formally meeting you, as he's satisfied with the current arrangement. He likes it better when Reader doesn't know he's watching. But his idea of staying an anonymous stalker is ruined when reader catches him in her bedroom one Friday night. Rafe has to figure out how to fix his mistake before he loses the only thing that makes his life worth living.

Warnings: Rafe stalks reader...that's literally the entire plot. He's pretty pervy in this, I guess. Masturbation (Rafe) in front of unconscious reader, strong/vulgar language, somnophilia (I guess?), death threat(?). If I missed anything from this part that I should include in the warnings, please let me know!

Word Count: 5.9k

Author Note: My sneak peek got a few likes, so thank you if you liked it, y'all are the reason I'm finally posting this part! I'm not sure how I feel about this fic so far, I definitely have a habit of overly critiquing my own work and never being fully satisfied with it, but I'm trying to get over that. I don't have plans for this fic, it's just going in whatever direction I can think of as I write, so if you have any suggestions, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE let me know, I'll write pretty much anything. This is my first work published on tumblr and the first thing I've written in years, so I hope it's at least readable, and maybe even a little enjoyable. If just one person enjoys this, then my mission is accomplished. Thank you, I hope you enjoy! And do NOT be shy to share feedback or give suggestions/requests. Again, thank you!

For those of you that DID read the sneak peek, a large portion of this part was included in the sneak peek, but I highly suggest reading it over in it's entirety. This draft has undergone several additional rounds of editing and I believe it is better than the version I published as a sneak peek.

One thing about humans is that we always want what we can’t have, especially when everyone else wants that same thing. It’s just something all humans do; but what happens when you already have more than you need and everything you could ever want? Well, almost everything. Rafe Cameron has more money than he could spend in his own lifetime, he can practically buy anything he wants. Except one thing, you.

At first he just thought you were pretty, but the more he saw you out in public the more and more he liked you. The way you’d talk or laugh when you were out with your friends…god, he could tell just how sweet you are. Too delicate for him to touch, like the wings of a butterfly or the petals of a flower. This is when he went from wanting you to needing you. 

See, another thing about humans is that we admire things. And, admiration can easily turn into obsession. Everyone has been obsessed with something or someone at some point in life, it’s normal. Obsessions will come and go, like a cycle. You get obsessed with something, you get over it, and you let it go until a new obsession marks the beginning of the new cycle. But things are a bit different for Rafe, he has never gotten over anything like, ever. Not once has Rafe Cameron ever let anything in his life go. When Rafe wants something, when he needs something, he will do whatever it takes to get it. And oh, how he needs you.

Rafe’s fascination, his obsession with you has been going on for years. He won’t ever admit it, but his perfectly curated collection of your personal items in his closet proves just how bad he’s been obsessing over you. The first thing he had ever stolen from you was your drink, you had been at the same party and you left your red solo cup about three-quarters full. Nobody noticed anything when he casually picked up the cup and finished the rest of your beer, purposely lining his lips with where yours had touched the cup, which was perfectly marked by the lipstick you had been wearing. After you’d leave a restaurant, he’d take the straws from your drinks. Rafe eventually worked himself up to breaking into your house and stealing your things when nobody was home. And Rafe made sure to explore every single inch of your room. All of your favorite panties? Gone. He’d take everything, your shirts, bras, whatever he liked really. You had noticed things kept disappearing from your room, but you’d just think you misplaced it–whatever it may be, or left it in a bag somewhere. Rafe had a good system. He knows exactly how much and how often he can take from you. 

Rafe knows he’s sick. He knows that it’s wrong to watch you from outside your bedroom window, that it’s wrong to follow you around in public, to purposely bump into you so you have to mutter a ‘sorry’ as you move around him. He just really, really needs you. And in Rafe’s twisted, dark, mess of a mind he believes this is the best way–the only way. He couldn’t treat you like every other girl, no, you were special. You were his and you just didn’t know it yet. Starting early on in his life, Rafe has always been neglected, always pushed into the shadow of his younger sister, Sarah. He’s been told he ruins everything, that everything he touches turns to ash. And you’re way too perfect to ruin. So, he follows you around like a creep, lurking from a distance. Of course you didn't know he’s been following you everywhere…he liked it better that way.

Rafe knew the line had already been crossed. Hell, the line had been crossed a long fucking time ago. He doesn’t care anymore, he needs you. Heaven is smelling like you; and not because you had left your scent on him, but because he had bought the same perfume as you. He needed to know what you smell like, how sweet you are…and how sweet you taste. Heaven is watching your chest rise and fall as you sleep peacefully in your bed. Heaven is you.

What Rafe has been doing to you for years could be defined as worship. Rafe was worshiping you. He’s your good boy; your loyal man and he was going to take care of you; protect you, even if you don’t know it yet. You’re what he lives for; you’re all that keeps him going, the only thing he cares about. 

Since he’s been watching you for years, of course he knew your schedule. Of course he knew that on Fridays your parents work late at the local bar & grill that they own. This means you slept in your house by yourself practically every Friday night. So every Friday night, Rafe would sneak in through the back door that you always forget to lock. He just wants to check on you, he wants to see his pretty girl sleeping beautifully, he wants to know that his baby is okay. This is not a crime, it’s not a crime to care; he’s not insane, he’s just in love–if you could even call it that. How can it be wrong to protect what’s his? nOh, and god forbid anyone ever get in the way of his stalking routine, if anyone were to take you away from the inevitable path of meeting him…oh, the things he would do; whatever it takes.

One unforgettable Friday night, you fall asleep on your couch watching a rerun of one of your favorite shows. You enjoy being alone. If only you knew you haven’t been alone for a very long time. You’re woken up by sudden, loud noises coming from your bedroom, but you think maybe it’s just the cat, or maybe you didn’t shut your window. You get up from the couch and in several slow, cautious steps you tiptoe over to your room. When you enter your doorway, you’re immediately greeted by the sight of a tall and broad man standing in the center of your bedroom holding the last shirt you wore to his nose, breathing in your scent. The sight of all this makes you immediately freeze and stand motionless in your bedroom doorway, staring at him blankly. 

Rafe doesn’t startle when he realizes you’ve caught him red-handed. Instead, quite the opposite actually. He’s actually a bit amused, relieved even; if you hadn’t caught him just now, he never would’ve been able to work up the nerve to finally talk to you. He didn’t want to have to be creepy about things between you two, but he couldn’t talk to you like a normal person. It’d be too unpredictable, too unknown. Meeting you like this…he has all of the control. 

“There you are,” he grinned. “How beautiful…” The strangely offputting man gloated in your fear and it was obvious.

You take a step back from where you had been frozen. He takes a step forward. This cannot be happening, you think. Your brows furrow in hopelessness and defeat. Again, you freeze where you are standing, even more afraid to move now. 

You feel like you’ve seen the man before, which you have, plenty of times; but he was careful to never have too big of an interaction, so that you couldn’t recognize his face. You have no clue that you’ve been and always will be his.

 “W-wha…who are you? W-why are you in my house?” You try to keep your voice as strong as possible, but the way your words shake with trepidation betrays you. 

The man takes a quick step forward, slowing to a stop and putting his hands up in mock surrender as you jump back. “Woah, woah, hey…calm down, alright?”, he chuckles when he sees the utter horror and complete fright in your eyes. His tone switches into one of a little more seriousness, “I'm not here to hurt you, you don't need to be so scared...”.  If you didn’t feel like your only choice was to look him in the eyes, you might even believe him. But, you had no other option but to witness the animalistic spark in his eyes that lit up with each word he spoke. With each step he took, you took one further back—your heart dropped into your stomach at the sight of his cocky, twisted smile and the way he looked at you…like you’re a zebra grazing in your natural habitat and he’s the lion waiting to pounce and attack you in your own home. 

“I just wanted to see you," he leaned up against your dresser, taking in the look on your face. His face almost instantly drops the predatory look and adopts one of mock concern, almost convincing enough to hide his amusement. “Hey, it's okay, baby, it’s okay…”

“Please,” you beg. “If you leave I won’t call the cops. I won’t tell.”

Rafe cocks his head and lets out a slow breath, as if he’s disappointed in your reaction; you aren’t supposed to want him to leave. “Hey, hey…I’m not gonna hurt you. Just listen to me…you don’t wanna have to call the cops at three in the morning,” he elaborated. He’s trying to be as convincing as he can because he cannot screw this up. Even so, he still can’t help his smile that only grows at the sight of your terrified face. He shakes the smirk off, adopting a serious expression once more. “Especially when the cops won't be able to do a damn thing.” 

He continues to step closer to you with each word. He stops once his figure is looming over you, looking at you like a lion about to pounce on its prey. “You should really be more careful, sweetheart, leaving the back door open like that at this time of night, when you’re all alone…you never know who might be out there.” His voice is cold as he warns you about the dangers of the world; the dangers of himself. 

“Who are you?” You repeated. The man looks so familiar but you just couldn’t quite place his face anywhere. You just need to know what he wants; who he is. 

“That’s not important right now baby…we’re focused on you, yeah?” The man’s eyes widen, taking in every detail of your face; the only other times he’s seen you this close is when he watches you sleep. 

You could feel his breath on your face as he spoke. The look in his eyes tells you to take another step back, but when your back collides with the wall you jump; there’s nowhere left for you to go and that was exactly how he wanted it. He wanted you like this alone, afraid, and cornered. He loved your fear. The man stares at you with a predatory look although aside from the darkness and lust in his eyes, you can see something else, but…what is it?  

“W-what do you want?” You ask, keeping as calm as you can. Even though with every passing second the air gets thinner and thinner. Your stomach is in knots and your throat starts to close up. Not to mention the stinging tears in your eyes, threatening to fall at any given moment.

“Me?” he cocked an eyebrow, his eyes shamelessly roaming your body as he blew out a huff. “I just wanna have a little chat, that's all...” The unknown man takes another step towards you, invading your personal space, his tall frame towering over you as his bottom lip finds a home between his teeth. Rafe reaches up and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “No need to be so scared, baby...”

“T-talk about what?” You have no idea what this man who you don’t know, could possibly want to talk about with you. Why is he acting like he knows you when you’re sure you’ve never even seen him before? Why is he…admiring you? No, that couldn’t be right. The mystery man is so confusing, all his twists and turns giving you whiplash. 

“Ah, you see...” he responds, pausing to place his other hand on the wall behind you, almost trapping you in. You feel his hot breath against the sensitive skin of your face, burning you like hot steam. His breath was slow and steady. He was completely calm. He liked this. He gave you a genuine smirk, bringing his face closer to your ear. “It’s more of a proposition really…”

“What is it…?” You ask. Not out of curiosity because honestly, you’re too afraid to know. But because you figure things might, just might go better for you if you play along. He stayed silent for a moment—enjoying the look in your eyes and your erratic breathing.

“All this fear…all this trembling...” he trails off as he brings his hand up to your chin, his thumb slowly tracing the outline of your lower lip. “It's nice to finally meet you...” He chuckles and leans in so that his lips nearly touch your ear. “Will you stop shaking like that if I tell you what I want?” His thumb moves from your bottom lip and he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear; he doesn’t want anything getting in the way of his view of your pretty face.“Hmmm?” he challenged. “Or will you still be shaking like a scared little puppy?”

“I-I don’t…” You stutter, not being able to speak or even think clearly with the way he’s glaring at you. 

“Shhhh… ” he tutted, bringing his other hand from the wall to your lower back and drawing you even closer to him—until your body was almost flush against his, his touch surprisingly warm. “You're not answering my question,” he whispers your name as he runs his fingers through your hair, it’s softer than he’d imagined. 

“Please just…” The tears were no longer threatening as they began to fall down your cheeks. “Please…” Hearing this man who you do not know, say your name, was probably the most frightening thing to happen to you yet. 

“Shhh, stop that...” he calmly commanded when he saw the tears falling from your pretty eyes. Rafe's voice was soft but stern—he hated seeing you so distressed. His hand moved from your lower back to your chin, making you look up at him. “Hey it’s okay…it’s okay baby, no need for tears. I just wanna talk to you is all." You almost believe him for a moment with how sincere the glint in his eyes appeared. But you’ve picked up on his manipulative expressions. 

“My parents will be home soon…” You vaguely remember your parents mentioning something about something and blah blah blah…they’re closing early tonight. You really hope it’s true and isn’t just a figment of your imagination; something your mind is making up so you don’t completely give up. 

A cocky smile returned to his face as he let a small huff of amusement slip past his lips. He knew your parents were working late, just like every other Friday night. "Bullshit,” he chuckled. His hand moved back to your lower back, holding you against him. “It’s just you and me, pretty girl.” He grabs your waist and within the next second, you’re on your bed and he’s hovering over you. You can feel his hot breath in your ear, you can smell him, feel the excessive heat radiating from his body. He speaks quietly now, more serious than he’s been this entire time, “Don’t ever fuckin’ lie to me again. Got it?”

His words provoke a small whimper from you. How long has he been watching you? What’s he gonna do? What does he want to talk about? Your mind is filled with questions you’re too afraid to ask. “I-I’m not lying.” He leans down, his lips almost touching yours. Rafe’s eyes are looking straight into yours, admiring the complete and utter fear your eyes possess. He doesn’t want you to be scared of him. But fuck, does he love it.

“Oh yeah?” He mumbles as he presses his face into your hair, taking in your scent. He can’t believe he’s finally this close to you. He didn’t think it’d ever happen, and if you didn’t catch him tonight, it probably wouldn’t have. It’s meant to be, he thinks. “What did I tell you about lying, hm baby? I know you’re fuckin’ lyin’ to me, so you wanna try that again?”

Before your brain could muster up some bullshit response, the sound of the front door unlocking echoes through the hall and into your bedroom. Rafe holds his breath and puts his hand over your mouth, causing your eyes to widen as he leans to the side to glance down the hallway at the front door. “Shh…”, he whispers. You weren’t lying. Your parents came home from work early and they’re about to turn the doorknob and come inside the house. Rafe looks at you, the look in his eyes beyond unsettling. “Tell the cops…tell anyone, and I’ll come back and fuckin’ kill you, okay? This is our secret. Don’t make me come back and hurt you babe, I really, really don’t wanna have to do that, alright?” 

He has to be bluffing, right? But, when you look up to meet his gaze, you can tell; you can tell he meant every single syllable that he spoke. It’s not like the cops would believe you if you said you had a stalker anyways, you’re a pogue. And cops never believe a pogue. Rafe doesn’t need a response from you, the fear in your eyes tells him all he needs to know.

 Just before you hear the front door open, Rafe smirks at you. “We’re gonna have so much fun together baby.” Reluctantly, the disturbed man leans back and takes his hands away from you. Without another word, he walks over to your bedroom window and pushes it open. Before ducking to climb out, the large man looks back at you. Your breath hitches even further if that’s even possible.

 “Goodnight puppy.” The outline of his smug grin is visible even in the darkness of your room. Just as you hear the quiet voices of your parents enter your house, the dark figure turns and exits your window. When the man is outside you sit up and rush over to shut and lock the window behind him. 

With caution, Rafe watches as your mother comes to peek her head in your bedroom. She only lingers in your doorway long enough to see your dark shape laying in bed. Covered in blankets, you pretend to sleep, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hold a casual conversation with your mother at the moment. And the last thing you want to do is raise any alarm. Not while he’s out there–whoever he is. Hot, salty tears fall from your eyes, wetting the soft skin of your cheeks. When she shuts the door, you let out a shaky breath, finally being able to breathe.But, you keep your eyes sealed shut. At least then you can’t see if the man is still watching you from outside your window. You lie awake for hours, how are you meant to go back to sleep after whatever the hell just happened? All you can do now is wait. Is he coming back? When will he come back? Who is he? Why does he want you? There’s a million different questions and worst scenarios circling around in your head. So, you just wait, it’s all you can do. 

As you wait, the hours turn into days, days turning into a week as the next Friday approaches you; you spend your time worrying about having to be home alone again. There still had been no sign of him since your encounter last week, but you decide to stay the night at a friend’s house, not wanting to take the risk. The second Friday after you came face-to-face with your stalker, you get a friend to spend the night with you. And now, after four weeks of waiting there’s still no sign of the deranged man. Although, if you had no knowledge of him stalking you for years he clearly is good at staying hidden. As the fourth Friday approaches, you think over your options. You can go to a friend’s house or have a friend stay over, as you’ve been doing. But, you’re tired of waiting for something to happen. You’re sick of not feeling safe in your own home and of having to look over your shoulder at all times. You used to love being alone, and now it’s been weeks since you’ve spent any time to yourself. You’ve had enough. This Friday you’re not hiding, you’re done being a coward. You will not allow this creep to keep taking away everything you love; you won’t allow yourself to waste any more time worrying about that psycho. So, you stay at home by yourself. He’s not gonna show, right? He was just bluffing or on drugs or something, that’s what you convince yourself.

You pull back the fluffy comforter on your bed and climb in. You pull the covers up and completely over yourself, you used to do this as a little girl when you’d have a nightmare or you’re scared of the thunder or the monster in your closet. If the blanket could protect you when you were little it should work now…right? Well, maybe it’d still work if you had a nightmare, but logically, what is it gonna do against your stalker? But no matter how much you force yourself to believe that he’s not coming back, you still find yourself praying. You’ve never been very religious, but recently you pray to whoever will listen. 

You had bought some sleeping pills from the store a few days after you discovered your secret stalker. They helped you sleep, since your brain hasn’t once stopped thinking about him since the whole fiasco. Reaching over, you pull out the drawer of your nightstand. You grab the bottle of pills, you swallow a couple dry and set the rest on your nightstand. The pills start to kick in quite sooner than usual, must be because you took double the amount…you’re gonna need them to fall asleep tonight. Your first night alone in weeks. In just a few short minutes, you’re out cold, buried underneath an absurd amount of pillows and blankets.

Rafe spent the past few weeks feeling overwrought after what he did. He feels wrong–a feeling he’s not used to experiencing. But it’s because he knows he’s ruined any chance he might’ve had with you. Before you caught him in your bedroom, he had a chance that you could meet him regularly and think he was just a normal guy. But now, all hopes of you ever thinking he’s ‘normal’ have been abandoned. He actually feels shame and…regret for his actions? He’s been seeing less and less of you, and it’s making him angry, so fucking angry. Your schedule has been relatively the same for the past years and now you’re switching it up? You’re hiding from him; running from him just like everyone else in his life. Maybe the things his family has been saying about him for most of his life is true; maybe everything he touches does turn to ash. God, why does he ruin everything? 

You are the one thing, the only thing that Rafe did not want to ruin. You’re the one thing in his life that’s too perfect to ruin…too innocent. But, the damage has been done. He doesn't have many options left. He could leave you alone, but then he’d be weak for not sticking to his word and he can’t have you thinking he’s weak and that you have the power. He could go back, but then what would he do? There was absolutely no way in hell you’d seriously talk to him, and he didn’t want to force himself onto you. He really wanted you to need him back, you have to want it. But everything you do or say now will be out of fear, it’ll be you trying to stay alive. He wanted you to be desperate for him, not desperate to get rid of him. Either way, you’re never gonna forgive him; you’ll always hate him now. Since you’ll feel the same no matter what he does now, he decides that he just needs to see you, he needs to talk to you again. It’s been far too long since he’s been close to you. He can’t take another goddamn second without seeing his reason to live.

He hurries over to your house, parking an entire block away as usual. He makes sure no eyes are on him as he sneaks around to your backyard. Rafe tries peeking through the curtains that block your window to see if you were in bed or not, but he can’t get a good view. He needs to know if you’re home. He needs to see you. 

Rafe sneaks around to the side of your house, checking all windows and doors in the process, but he has no such luck. But he doesn’t give up yet, he’ll get in, he’ll find a way. He tries the side door that leads into your garage. He lets out a giant breath of relief when the door clicks open. Once he’s inside the garage, he takes a quick glance around to analyze his surroundings and burn every inch of your house into his memory. When he finally enters your house, he takes his time to look around. Obviously Rafe knew you were a pogue–he knew everything about you, but you never really looked or acted like one. However, the inside of your home puts your life on display, making it very clear you’re a pogue. 

You sleep soundly, only being interrupted by the occasional dream; completely unaware that your stalker is making his way down the hall and into your bedroom. Rafe opens the door quietly. Your room is dark like the rest of your house, but the moonlight shining through your thin curtains provides just enough light that he can see the outline of your sleeping body. Now that your presence has been confirmed, he feels like he can finally breathe and he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

Before he became totally obsessed with you and he’d see you occasionally in public, you used to just make him horny. He’d catch a glimpse of your smile or hear the softness in the way you spoke, or the innocence in your sweet laugh and his dick would be hard within seconds. And when his obsession grew and he’d watch you more frequently, sex with other girls started not doing anything for him. He needed you…he needs you. When he actually started paying attention to the way you spoke, the way you acted, he fell in love–what he thinks is love anyways. Rafe realized you’re the sweetest, most pure person he’s ever known. He didn’t think people like you really existed. His discovery led him to watch you more closely, he started taking more risks just because he needed to find your flaw. There’s no way you’re actually this perfect, it has to be an act. Now, after years of watching you he can confidently say that you really are just that perfect. Rafe needs you for more than just getting off now, he needs your comfort, he needs the kindness that radiates off of you. Which is why he’s always trying to find a way to get closer to you, he needs to absorb your sweetness. But hes really done it now; he’s fucked up big time. You hate him.

He hadn’t realized that the hate he brought upon you would tint the kindness that radiates for your being. He has to get you to let go of the hate he’s caused you, he needs you to be yourself again. He just doesn't know how, if it’s even possible.

 As you sleep soundly, his large frame towers over you as he stares down at you through the darkness. You look so peaceful, so innocent. It physically pains him to know that he’s taken away parts of your innocence. All he can do is stare at you as he mentally curses himself. He can’t wake you up and ruin your small moment of peace. It’s better if you don’t know he’s there. 

Your stalker slowly raises his hand and uses his thumb and pointer finger to pull your blanket down to your knees. Even with the blankets pulled down most of your body was hidden from him. Almost everything is left to the imagination in the loose, patterned pj pants and the oversized, long sleeve shirt that you’re wearing. He can only see a small portion of your lower stomach due to your shirt slightly riding up. And that small bit of skin is enough to trigger his memories of you. Because of course he’s seen you countless times; he’s got your body memorized.

He’s practically panting as he takes in the sight of you, imagining that you’re unclothed beneath him; his memory is sharp enough to almost see it. His cock grows to press against his jeans and his eyes trail up to your beautiful face. The ache in his needy cock starts to become unbearable. Your name slips past his lips in the form of a mumble when he starts to palm himself through his newly tightened jeans. 

Okay, Rafe has definitely jerked off to the thought of you, your smell…everything about you makes him lose whatever control he ever even had to begin with. Something he hasn’t gotten to do yet is jerk off with you right in front of him as a live viewing source, fresh for his eyes. He’s gonna be able to cross that off the bucket list soon enough; he can’t wait any longer. His hand stops its ministrations over his jeans as his head turns and he moves over to your closet, grabbing a pair of delicate, worn panties from the top of your laundry hamper. He brings the treasure up to his nose to smell you. God, he could cream his fucking pants right now. He quietly walks back over to you, taking a look at the pill bottle on your nightstand. He picks it up with his free hand, eyes quickly scanning over the label. He smirks as he sets it back down. Rafe turns his head to look back at you. His smirk grows even wider as he leans back, cocking his head as he observes you. Yeah, you’re definitely gonna be out for a while.

With his pants and boxers around his ankles, he stands over you. Your panties between his hand and his cock as his fist slowly pumps up and down his length. His other hand meticulously pulls your shirt up to reveal your chest.

“Fuckkk…” he whispers under his breath as his bottom lip is held captive between his teeth. Your perfect tits are spilling out of your bra as you lie asleep on your back. He lightly fiddles with the ends of your hair as his hand pumps over his dick repeatedly and without rhythm. He takes his time, Rafe never likes to rush this. Especially not with you.

Your subconscious mind reacts to his light touch and sounds, pulling you into a wet dream; seeing as a main side effect of the medication you took was vivid dreams. You’ve also been unusually horny lately, probably because you’d been too afraid to touch yourself when you thought you were being watched twenty-four/seven. His fingers trail up your stomach and into the valley of your breasts with feather light touch.

You stir a bit, not because you felt him, but because the dream you’ve been thrown into by your subconscious is starting to get your body all worked up. You’ve been extra horny recently and keep having sex dreams since you haven’t been able to touch yourself the past few weeks, having a stalker and all. As he leans down to lightly kiss the skin in between your boobs, a moan slips past his lips, vibrating off of your skin and interrupting the mostly silent room. The only other sound that can be heard in the quiet room is that caused by Rafe’s hand quickly moving up and down his cock; the friction caused by the soft fabric of your panties generates a quiet noise. Pre-cum leaks from his slit and seeps into the fabric of your recently worn panties. He leans back down to create a hickey on your chest and hopes that you won’t wake up from the sudden feeling, although if you did that might be even better. Shaking the selfish thought out of his head, he sucks strongly at the smooth skin between your beautiful tits. He pulls his mouth off with a pop! Leaning back to see the mark he left, he smirks knowing you’ll see it too eventually. The already rhythmless movements of his hand gets even more erratic the closer he gets to reaching his orgasm. 

The man standing above you runs his hand back down your chest and abdomen as you sleep. Completely unaware of what's happening to your physical body right now, you begin to get all wrapped up in your dream. You only ever get sex dreams when you’re so overly horny, which you’ve been the past few weeks. That combined with the sleeping medication you took, made this particular dream feel different; it felt so…real. The only dream-like part about it was that you couldn’t see the man's face for whatever reason. 

While you’re in a deep sleep, you involuntarily let out a needy whine as your active mind plays games with you. When Rafe hears you he thinks he imagined it, until he hears you do it again. He wonders if you could feel him, except he’s not even touching you right now. Realizing that's clearly not the reason, he furrows his brows in confusion. He pulls the duvet cover completely off of you to reveal the way you keep periodically squirming as your body searches for the same feeling your mind is experiencing; and the way your toes tighten up and curl as you’re tricked into thinking you feel pleasure. 

He can’t take it, not when you look like this. The man hovering over your unconscious figure lets out a lewd moan that corrupts the silence as hot strings of his cum spurt out of the pink, glistening tip of his cock and onto the pair of your panties that he's got clenched in his fist, immediately soaking into the fabric. Surprisingly, when he gets through his orgasm, he adoringly covers you back up with your blankets and leaves your house, locking the door he entered through to be sure you were safe. He got enough to satisfy him for now as he works on a plan to change the way you think of him.  He’ll be back for more of you soon enough. He has to fix this; the biggest mistake he’s ever made and the only regret he’ll ever carry. 

To be continued...

Thank you for reading! I hope this was enjoyable and not a waste of time. I spent a lot of time on this part, especially with the editing since I never really feel done with anything. If you have literally ANY feedback, questions, or suggestions, PLEASE feel free to let me know! I don't really have any solid plans for this fic so if you have any ideas I just might include them, there's not much I won't write!

[gillianthecat]

Is/Was tumblr giving anyone else a notification when someone you followed posted for the first time in a while? Like this:

It was doing that for me for a couple weeks, although now it seems to have stopped. A short-lived experiment? Or perhaps no one has posted after a long enough lag. (It seems unlikely to have been a bug, but I don't know enough about coding so maybe?)

It was sort of an interesting idea, to make sure I didn't miss someone I hadn't seen in a while, but on the whole I'm glad it's gone/hope it goes. I'd like my notifications to be all about me, thank you 👸🏻The dashboard is the place for other people. Otherwise it gets confusing.

Anyway, I haven't posted in a while (12 days), so perhaps this post will show up in your notifications!

[insomanic-fanfication]

Hey, I really liked your Dick Grayson sfw and nsfw alphabets! When you have the time, can I request either of those for Jason Todd? Thanks 😊

Jason Todd SFW Alphabet

Author's note: Of course! I planned on doing his anyway after finishing some of my drafts. But that's taking a little longer than I thought it would. CW:

Alphabet Under the cut!

Affection: How affectionate are they? How do they show it?

Jason isn't really affectionate, at least in open places. He's got way too many people wanting his head on a pike. Family and friends know you two are dating; however, if someone on the outside saw you two, they would have no idea. However, when you two are alone, his true colors bleed through. His personality is similar to that of a huge dog that hasn't figured out they can't be a lap dog anymore. Laying his head on your lap while you do your own things. He is reading a book, and you do one of your hobbies. Just decompressing from the day Comfortably in science and enjoying the other's presence. Will 100% fall asleep if you start playing with his hair.

Best Friend: What are they like as best friends? How would you become best friends?

Unless he needed to ask you for something, you would probably have had to make the first move toward friendship. Jason gets very lonely, but trying to meet new people on his own accord is not part of his personality. If he approached you, it would be one of two things; 1. You did something that impressed him, or 2. Dick was pestering him about meeting new people too much, and he caved to make Dick leave him alone.

Cuddles: Do they like to cuddle? How would they?

Jason hesitates to cuddle at first; it's not that he hates it, but more so, he fears it. For the most part, positive physical interaction is a foreign concept in his body. For the first few times he cuddles, he will flinch, and it doesn't matter which one of you enacted it. But once he gets to the point of cuddling, where you two can cuddle, he is relaxed? Your fate is sealed. You've created a monster! Anytime you're not busy in the apartment, it's cuddle time, and no protests are allowed. Will get pouty if you have to get up.

Domestic: Do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning?

Jason is one of the Batfam members who would settle down in a heartbeat, even if it's just for a year or two. He craves at least some normality. But if he does, no one can protect the ones he loves, at least not well, in his opinion. Unlike his brothers, Jason is an excellent cook and even a chef with his skills. One of his favorite early memories is helping and learning to cook with Alfred. He's also very good at cleaning, partly cause his spaces are the bare-bone things to live in. However, he likes to clean his apartment or space once weekly as a coping mechanism. It's something he feels he is in complete control over. However, if you find him randomly deep-cleaning a room or his apartment. BE AFRAID; he's not okay, no matter how often he tries to tell you he is alright. For him, that is grippy sock stay levels that are not okay.

Ending: If they had to break up? How would they?

Like Dick, if you two broke up and he was the one that broke it off, it was due to him having an episode. But unlike Dick, it would be out of paranoia. Jason would make himself believe that your life will be destroyed. or you'll die because you are dating him. He would most likely ghost you and not actually break up with you. Because the words would pain him too much to say out loud. Only coming to his senses after the episode has passed, realizing his actions, and imminently finding you in person, terrified he fucked up everything between you both.

Fiance: How do they feel about commitment? How long before they pop “the question”?

Jason didn't want marriage for a long while, too terrified that it would make something go wrong. However, the longer the relationship goes on, nothing terrible happens like he expected. The more the thought of marriage would come into his mind. Asking what your thoughts on marriage are one night while cuddling.

Gentle: How gentle are they? Both physically and Emotionally? 

Jason is incredibly gentle with his partners, partly due to his personality and partly because he fears accidentally hurting you. He's a little rough around the edges emotionally, though, mostly because he's not used to being a completely open book to people.

Hugs: Do they like hugs? What are their hugs like?

Jason hugs like a dad coming home after a long trip. He'll hug your waist and lift you, keeping you in his arms with the biggest smile. He'll kiss your forehead while you feel the warmth of his body around you.

I love you: How fast do they say the L-word?

Jason would be extremely slow to say the actual' I love you' wording, but he would make up for it in physical affection and words of affirmation. Holding you as close as he can while telling you how much you mean to him and how great of a partner you are to him. So, people may mistake it for love bombing, which added to his other behavior. But it's because it's so hard for him to verbally tell you he loves you. He feels he needs to say it to you in other words, so you know how much his heart bleeds for you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? What would they do?

Jason gets super jealous; he won't control who you talk to or anything like that. He knows you have a life outside your guy's relationship, and it's not his place to manage. But he's protective of you and gets jealous when others flirt with you because, in the back of his mind, it's hard for him to believe someone would date him. So he's worried that you'll find someone more accessible to love, and you'll give up on him. Does it sound balls off the wall crazy? Yes, but mental illness is rarely something that likes to make sense.

Kissing: What are their kisses like? Where do they like to be kissed/ kiss you? 

Jason loves it when you kiss places on him that are generally done on the submissive partner, such as his knuckles, neck, forehead, etc. He finds them so comforting and feels very loved.

Little ones: How are they around kids?

Jason is great around kids unless it's his brothers. Generally speaking, though, he's very good with kids. Sometimes, he understands what's okay for a kid or not. He'll let a toddler he's watching fidget with an unloaded gun if they are very interested in it. But he'll explain to the kid in terms they understand gun safety and how you know a gun is loaded or not. Telling the kid you never treat a gun like it's a toy. It is a 100% safe choice for a kid to go to if they can't find their parent.

Morning: How are they during the mornings?

He's a morning person but a lazy morning person. He'll wake up at 5-6 and do dishes, eat, and do morning stretches, but he will not do any actual work until around noon. God forbid the poor man has a morning shift, no matter what his day job is. He'll be the grumpiest man in the world, but he hides it well from clients/ customers. Some of his coworkers get very confused of this very quick change of mood, but others just see that, and think 'Same brick wall dude, Same'.

Nights: How are they spent with them?

He is a huge Night Owl, wither that be doing the bulk of his work at Night, or having a nice cuddle session with you while having a smoke on the fire escape of the apartment. He is a very light sleeper, or deep sleep with every hour or so waking back up. He also has a lot of night terrors, so he tends to avoid sleep, ESPECIALLY if you are staying over at his place. He has a lot of 'what if i hurt you..' paranoia.

Open: When would they start revealing things about themselves?

Try to get Jason to open up, is like trying to open a can with no can opener. You may have be in a relationship with him for 5 years, and still not know everything about him. Not because he doesn't trust you not to use that against him. But because he struggles with knowing WHEN to open up about things in a relationship. He wants to make sure your twos relationship is a healthy as it can be, which every now and then dose end up causing problems. Especially when he's having a ptsd episode and you feel helpless within how to help him through it.

Patience: How easily angered are they?

He tries to be a laid back person, tries to be, is the wording there, he doesn't have a hair thin trigger, but sometimes his trauma just gets triggers by something he doesn't even see the connection to, so he's in a pissed off fight response for a bit. He does, however go to anger management therapy to try and help these behavior issues. But somethings slip through the cracks before they can be brought up in therapy. This does not stop him from bragging to his siblings, that he's the only one taking care of his mental health.

Quizzes: They remember everything or nothing about you?

It's like a scale, sometimes he remembers everything, other times he can't remember your favorite hoodie, (it's the one that's been used as a pillowcase for 3 months, because he missed holding you). He can dissociate for a long awhile, but him also bottling up his emotions plays a bigger role in this.

Remember: What is their favorite memory in the relationship?

The first time you fell asleep while cuddling with him. You both were watching cheesy 90s slashers for Halloween night, snuggled in almost a cocoon of blankets and snacks. When he turned to check on why you had been so quiet, you had falling asleep while being snuggled so far into him, that he half expected for you to fuse into his side. The amount of trust you had for him, the emotions he felt was too much and he ended up crying for the first time in years. the tears feeling like they were burning his eyes, but it's still a memory he holds closest to his heart.

Security: How protective are they? How would you protect each other?

No matter what your appearance is, wither that be tall and lanky or short n stout. Jason tends not to need a lot of physical protection, but you are most defiantly the protector of his emotional peace and social battery. Think of it like a Pitbull done with his guarding of the house for the day, so runs to their favorite human to become the biggest cuddle bug on earth. That's Jason Todd, (He's very Resurce dog coded, don't blame me, blame DC). He very much, however, is scary looking guard dog for you. He could kill someone with his death glare sometimes.

Try: How much effort would they put into dates, gifts, anniversaries, etc?

Jason puts an extreme amount of effort into your anniversaries, gifts and dates! He's not a social able person, so don't expect fancy Lucious dinner dates at a 5 star restaurant. They make him very uncomfortable, thinking everyone's eyes are on him. But he will make you the most romantic and gushy homemade dinners, your favorite flowers or candy. Cooking Red type pastas with red wine or cooking a Hispanic dish that learned while growing up around crime ally.

Ugly: What are some bad habits of theirs?

He has a bad habit of pushing you away, instead of telling you what's up. For better, or for worse. Sometimes it's because his crime lord days caught up to close to him, and for your safety he pushed you away. Or on the worse side of things, he's terrified you'll look at him as a monster or not understand where he's coming from with his trauma and his poor mental health, so he tries to keep them from you as long as possible, until he has no choice to tell you, or lose the relationship he has built with you.

Vanity: How concerned are they with their looks?

Honestly, Yes and no, like he cares about his looks more than a person would think, but like.. slightly more. He's not gonna shower every single day on the dot and shave his pubic hair into a sharp clean design. But he absolutely cares about keeping up good hygiene. Though he does have issues with cleaning his teeth, nothings rotting in there, but he is brushing his teeth waaay less than he really should be.

Whole: Would they feel incomplete without you?

No, unless you two date each other until your 4 years into retirement and you die of old age. He will be able to feel the same before you to started dating, because he feels incomplete on a regular basis. Like he isn't able to do enough, BE a enough for anyone to see him how he is as a person now.

Xtra: Random headcanon for them?

Jason use to smoke weed, especially in his teen years, regularly. But now he smokes cigs, problary Marlboro's or Lucky Strikes maybe Camels , and eats edibles every now and then to help with muscle pain and mood swings. (he still hasn't figure out if meds are worth not being able to have a beer whenever he wants.)

He knows he has PTSD, maybe C-PTSD, however he's not quite sure or not that he has BPD or a similar disorder, he's mainly just not internally ready to know the answer to that part of himself just yet. He's barely processed his feelings towards his Mother, so he's not there yet in his healing journey.

Yuck: What are some things they don’t like, in general, or in a partner?

if you have bad few of poor people or think poor people are only poor because they chose to be. Than I'm sorry, but Jason is more likely to pop a bullet in your head than he is to see you in a good light, let alone a romantic one.

Zzz: What is their sleeping habit?

Either waking up every 1 to 2 hours, or only sleeping 30mins to 3 hours and then staying up for the rest of the night or start cleaning or smoking a cig outside.

[2demondogs]

Lie, Beg and Die | Bessie/Hosea/Dutch

Tags: Polyamory but like it's even more complicated, past relationships, character study Words: 1.3k A/N: Start of a fic that I never finished so take it as a study bc the Ao3 draft was expiring.

Dutch thinks that men don't change.

As if to disprove himself, he had said it with tears in his eyes. Hosea thinks often of how honest his face finally looked despite his same-old pleading, as if he had never shown a real emotion in all those years riding together — at least not real anguish.

Dutch van der Linde cried because he felt abandoned. It was Annabelle who first taught him what grief was; his sorrow then had eaten the rotting flesh of his husk, and he cried plenty in their doubled privacy. She hadn't chosen to leave him but he thinks that if she hadn't been so cursedly in love, the concept of consequences to Dutch's actions might never have clicked in the man's head.

And if the regret on his face weren't the mark of a changed man, Hosea isn't sure what is.

His visits to Bessie and himself began a month after their last conversation. He liked to hear how the boys were doing, and although Dutch often tried to whisk him away, he liked to hear how he was doing, too. He never intended to leave Dutch, doesn't think such a thing could ever sit right in his heart — only the life they led.

Dutch van der Linde is inescapable through anything but death.

It felt almost like normalcy. If it weren't for the not infrequent case of there being blood on Dutch's hands, which Bessie chides him for as if he is just a boy who played outside too long; or the way he smells, like stolen high-class cologne slapped over a month's worth of horses and dirt and fresh-air that turns not-so-fresh after a while; it might almost seem as though Dutch is a close friend visiting from a town over, between the busy life his own family and work has made for him.

Bessie likes to dress as though this is true, for various reasons, but she makes no effort to pretend that Dutch is not what he is: a killer and a thief, just the same as the two of them were.

There's no use running from the truth, she'd say, if Hosea ever asked why. He doesn't ask because he knows this already.

While he clasps a delicate chain he stole — but told her he bought, because in some ways men don't change and their women would prefer to believe they do — she sometimes frowns and asks Hosea if maybe Dutch was right.

Have we changed, or are we lying?

And Hosea won't know what to say. He won't even know if she particularly needs comforted about it, the way guilty men desire; Bessie seems to have accepted that what is... simply is. There's something intellectual to it that implies more forethought than mere arrogance, but what guilt she owns is impossible for him to see.

She's a like lot Dutch, all those years ago. It is what it is, Hosea.

How many times has he heard them say that? More than once, he heard the words simultaneously as they both turned to him.

He sometimes wants to tell them that their sorry trio is proof men can change. Whatever inside of himself that perverted Dutch hasn't touched Bessie, and he hopes that it never will. She is no sacrifical lamb, no angel fallen into the devil's arms; but she is pure in a way that feels too familiar, too heavy in his hands.

Faustian, really, and what an obnoxiously self-righteous and dramatic way for him to self-loathe. Hosea would, most days, rather be arrogant and not think on his worthiness at all then be so preoccupied with it. On rarer days, he finds himself entertaining the way Bessie sees him.

Perhaps he's not only changed but done it for the better, and this is a good man who sits outside and watches the sun rise from their little cabin outside of Cumberland Forest. He makes coffee and breakfast for his darling wife, because he loves her so much and so sweetly. The most depraved of their sins is that his best friend takes them both for a spin once in a while, which is rather gentle all things considered.

Men can steal, kill, rape — what is love to a God that sees all?

Bessie wouldn't like to know that he thinks of robbing the men who ride past, or that every now and then he itches for something much more important-feeling than this quaint life, tucked away from civilization. Bessie doesn't need to know it, anyways, because he thinks all men dream of doing good. His methods were just never orthodox, and he has yet to decide if the ends justify the means. There's plenty to think about, and much more time to do it out here.

Then again, Bessie knows his crimes. She had been humored to learn his real name and recognize it from a slip-up, long ago, where it had been posted in a newspaper.

That had felt like divine intention.

He's chopping wood for the fireplace when Dutch rides in.

Each time, he finds himself more unsure of how on earth Bessie likes either of them. By now, months have smoothed over their mutually wounded prides and Dutch is free enough to place a kiss on Hosea's mouth. It's almost European in nature — but he still feels scandalized, as if he's forgotten the nature of their relationship.

Dutch had explained it to his own gals as a separation between sexes: she was his woman and, well, Hosea was his man. There was little to fear as long they stayed in their own lanes, trust me, darling, you're only sharing first place.

With Susan, the three of them danced because Hosea was young and so was she, and they both liked getting on Dutch's last nerves. She didn't mind their past nor present, but she was not as resilient to the thought of their future. They broke up, used to tagteam antagonizing Dutch over breakfast and dinner.

Hosea can't blame her. He was not resilient to the thought of Dutch and Annabelle's future, either. Still, he wasn't the one who could let go — his last chance for that was holstered on a bleak evening outside Chicago.

At first, it seemed Dutch wouldn't be resilient to Hosea and Bessie's future. Marriage, what a wonderful thing that they could never have. Dutch studied some verses and eloped them anyways, a typical extravagant yet simple way for him to insist that he was not, in fact, bothered in the slightest.

He had been bothered and at some point, Bessie was, too. Hosea supposes that he and Dutch have grown up together and therefore alike — and while the love Bessie and Dutch entertain for each other is certainly not the same as either for Hosea, it exists in its own right.

And she smiles from where she leans on the porch banister, as if she simply adores to see the two of them in love. Happy, or some modicum of it, Dutch's hand on his waist and on his lips, some snarky comment on how he can feel the happiness on Hosea's softened hips. He has been eating better, he supposes, because he's hunting for two instead of six.

Dutch is less polite with Bessie. Square on the carefully painted mouth, fingers faint but very present on her neck. His tanned hand seems obscenely large on her throat. Hosea supposes he has never seen his own on it, and— Jesus, so begins their dancing for the evening, at least his part.

They part, and Hosea thinks he knows what Bessie sees when she smiles at them. Dutch's eyes are soft and so are hers, and Hosea is so glad they know what it's like to be under each other's warmth. It has always pleased him, to say the least.

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part II: blackwater i

originally posted on 22 february 2023

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 4k

summary: you start to settle in with the gang, making some friends and some enemies. As you acclimate to your new life, parts of you miss the freedom of solitude, while a new feeling drives you towards companionship.

a/n: chapter two is here! For those of you that missed the post, I will be updating this series with a new chapter every wednesday. I'm super proud of this one. Thanks to @margowritesthings for being my beta reader, biggest supporter, and my ride or die

SERIES MASTERPOST

"The hell did you buy in there anyway? A book?" You ask, trotting closer to Arthur and Boadicea to peek over his reins. There's a little leather bound book in his hands that he angrily stuffs into his satchel. You’ve both just left the general store in Blackwater after picking up some supplies for the good of the camp. You have no money, but Arthur had brought camp funds to purchase supplies for everyone. While in the store, he’d found a small leather bound book, and you’ve been thinking about it since you both left the store.

"Ain't none of your business lady, now let's get back." He huffs, spurring Boadicea into a canter past the old withering Blackwater church. The sound of hooves on dirt is loud as you push the horse, gripping tightly onto the saddle horn for extra stability.

"Well if it's none of my business, you shouldn't have bought it in front of me. That's on you." You counter, curious if Arthur even knows how to read, let alone enjoys it. You’ve only been with the gang for three and a half days, but in that time you’ve been able to observe the other gang members. Mostly, you’ve stuck to yourself, eating and working alone unless Ms. Grimshaw makes you work with the girls. But in that time, all you’ve seen Arthur do is physical labor, like chopping wood, going out on jobs, or planning with Dutch and Hosea. You had wrongfully assumed he’s the type of man who only entertains himself with liquor, women and fighting. Every day you seem to be proving yourself more and more wrong. 

"I bought it in front of you because I have to take you with me. You're like a goddamn pet, take my eyes off ya for a second and you're starting something. Dutch didn’t want you causin’ trouble so he told me to keep an eye on ya." 

Fury bubbles in your chest at the new information. This is about that big ugly bastard, what's his name. The past few days you've spent at their camp all he's done is sleep, drink and annoy everyone. He hasn't changed his sweat stained blue flannel since you've been there, and his big brown draft horse has never left the hitching post. He had made some rather crass comments about Arthur bringing you back and you punched him right in the face for it. Nearly knocked him on his ass. It got an amused chuckle out of Arthur, but the other gang members weren't too pleased about you strutting into their camp and starting fights. He started it, you just finished it. But of course you, the newcomer, are to blame and now you need a babysitter. 

"Gonna keep an eye on me, that's it? What- you're gonna sleep next to my bedroll too? Make sure I don't go out and start beating up the folk, even the ones that need it?" You growl, irritated with Dutch for giving you a chaperone, and at Arthur for being the chaperone. 

"If that's what it takes to keep that damn temper under control then, sure" Arthur laughs.

"I guess I'd rather go buyin' romance novels with you then sittin' back there with some of those fools." You bite, cantering towards the opening of the camp. 

"I- dammit woman, it ain't a book. It's a journal. Lost my old one some months ago in a fire.  I saw this one and I just picked it up..." He says. 

You're utterly shocked. He journals? A new little layer of this big tough outlaw falls away and you can peek into the man inside. He goes around saving women in distress and writes about his feelings? Well shit. 

"Never took you for a writer, Mr. Morgan, but it suits you well. Maybe one day you'll have to let me peek in there, see what goes on in that head a you-" 

You stop in your tracks at the sound coming from camp. It's a rat-like voice with a greasy, nasty vocabulary. He's yelling, harassing someone for something. It's an unfamiliar voice and you spur the buckskin faster after Arthur to find the source. Arthur doesn’t look entirely alarmed, more annoyed, as if he knows the voice. When he sees the worry on your face, he’s quick to respond.

"That's Micah… you steer clear of him, alright?" He asks, to which you don't answer.

As your horses slow, stepping into the camp, you hop down from the saddle, tossing your reins over the hitching post and jog into the open area filled with tents. 

"The hells goin' on now? You've been back five goddamn minutes and your stirrin' up a ruckus." Arthur calls out from beside you. 

A medium height, blonde man with a nasty smile and pale blue eyes turns around, running his fingers over his thick mustache. His red shirt is stained with what you assume to be the beer that he reeks of. It has filled his stomach, giving him a drinker’s gut and painting his nose with red blotches. Just the sight of him has you backing up a few steps.

"Awe, didntcha' miss me, Morgan?" He asks sarcastically, holding his arms out in mock disbelief. 

Arthur sports a deep scowl as he glares at Micah, stepping towards him. It's then that Micah notices you standing beside Arthur. You're much shorter than him, but you hold your chin up high, shoulders pushed back. Micah’s lips curl up in an eerie smile as he runs his eyes over your body.

"Well who might you be, madam?" Micah sneers. Pure anger and aggression pump through your veins as he slowly rakes his eyes over your figure. Then his eyes move around to the people in camp, lingering on Arthur's. 

"She claimed? You Morgan's whore then? Say, you think he'll share you with me?" Micah laughs maniacally, bending back and resting his hands on his gun belt. His blonde hair is filthy, his teeth even more so, everything about this man repels you. He's a snake, a shifty rat and you can see it from a mile away. 

"I ain't no one's whore." You squint, wishing to just take this bastard out and be done with it. 

"Careful, Micah. She'll tear you a new one." Arthur warns, seemingly hoping that you will. God, he would love to watch you beat the shit out of Micah. He'd pay to.  

Micah seems to be amused by this, laughing loudly and glancing around the camp to see if anyone heard Arthur. He doesn't believe for a fraction of a second that you could best him.

"I ain't afraid of an itty bitty lady," Micah steps forward, glancing down over you before shifting his eyes and addressing Arthur,

"She'd look real pretty on her knees for me, wouldn't she Ar-"

You knee him as hard as you can, right in the groin, causing him to bend at the waist and groan in pain. 

"Y-You bitch!" He yells, right before you slip a pair of metal knuckles that were in your pocket over your fingers and punch him square in the cheekbone. The knuckles cut up his face, blood trickling down his cheek before he falls over, completely knocked out cold. You're a small woman, but with some little adjustments, you're stronger than the men. You slip the knuckles off, sliding them back into your pocket and tapping them for good measure.

"Tried to warn the bastard…" Arthur sighs, grabbing Micah by the feet and dragging him towards the outskirts of camp where he'll probably wake up later. You realize that you'd gained a bit of a crowd, blushing as you look around and see several pleased faces. You remember most of their names. The red haired Irishman, Sean steps over to you, proudly slapping you on the back with a huge grin. 

"Ha! Ya knocked him right on his ass ‘tere! So much for an itty bitty lady, eh?"

A blonde haired woman, a little taller than you comes over with a big smile. She’s under the arm of a young gang member, you think Lennys his name. 

“Well I’ll be damned! Hell yeah, It's good to see another badass woman around here, I was gettin’ tired of puttin’ all the boys in their place.” She laughs, pulling Lenny behind her and moving forward to hand you something. It's a five dollar bill, and you reach out to take it, confused. 

“We had a bet that someone was gonna knock him out soon as he got back. Entertaining us with a show like that? You deserve it. I’d do anything to see that bastard get put down by a lady.”

You smile up at her, nodding to the stranger as you place the bill in your pocket. 

“I'm Jenny by the way. Say, you're new as a shiny penny, figures these boys can't control themselves. Buncha assholes, especially Micah. He gets his fill of torture from all of us though, don't you worry miss." Jenny smiles at you, her blonde hair frames her freckled face beautifully. 

"You wanna come officially meet the girls? We can get you set up, get you a tent and some new clothes. Figure you wanna get away from Mr. Morgan over there for the day, he's a sour bastard." Jenny yells the last part in Arthur’s direction so that he can hear. 

“You’ll hear no argument from me on that account, ma'am.” Arthur quips, dropping Micah into the woods,

You eye Lenny and Jenny, a little unsure. It's hard for you to trust people, especially other outlaws but they seem kind enough. You turn your neck around to see Arthur, the only one you've really interacted with besides the two men you knocked out, and then you look back to Lenny and Jenny. They're both young and bright eyed, hopeful. It's a change you're grateful for, albeit not used to. What could be the harm?

"Alright then, the girls…" You whisper nervously. You've seen a few other women walking through the camp in the past four days, and they've eyed you with curiosity but none made a move to interact with you. You'll never show it but you're a bit nervous. You keep to yourself for the most part. You've had to because you have no one else. But that's changing. 

You follow the two past a few tents, and to a wagon with a few boxes sitting around to be used as chairs. Wolf pelts and blankets are stacked into a makeshift bed on the ground under a hanging canvas. As you take in the little details of the camp, you don't miss the way Jenny and Lenny's hands intertwine, and you smile for it. It's apparent that someone has been through a lot of effort to make the camp homey. Fluffy pelts line the seats and chairs, beautifully decorated animal skulls top some of the tents and each person’s designated area is filled with their personal preferences and belongings. Pictures and books line the little tables and crates around the place and boxes of beer and whiskey as well. It really is a home. 

There's a wagon with canvas material making a little lean to, and under it sit three girls. The first one to notice you has short blonde hair and a contagious smile. There's wonder in her eyes, and optimism. 

"Well hi! We was wonderin' when we'd get to meet you, we could barely hold back from goin' over there but we didn't wanna push ya! Say, you’ve been here just four days and you’ve already knocked down the two biggest bastards here. First Bill and now Micah? I like you already!" The blonde haired girl says before adding, "Oh, I'm Karen by the way. And this is Marybeth and Tilly.” She adds, pointing towards the other girls who smile and wave coyly. The girl furthest from you with dark colored skin and braided hair that collects into a low bun, Tilly, speaks up.

“Don’t be shy, we don’t bite. Well Karen does, but only when Ms. Grimshaw comes around. Doesn’t seem like you’ll be dealing much with her though. You gonna run with the men like Jenny here?” Tilly asks, nodding towards Jenny. You notice the contrast in their attire. Tilly, Marybeth and Karen are wearing dresses, apparently you and Jenny are the only two women who work out of camp. You haven't thought much about what your role will be in the camp though.

“Uh, yeah I guess I will be. I haven’t thought about it much though, just gettin’ here and all…And I’m only stayin’ till I'm back on my feet, so I’ll do whatever needs done till I get enough money to head somewhere else.” You mumble, looking down to your raggedy clothes. The girls grow a little quiet, sensing your dilemma before Jenny speaks up. 

“Well for now, you’re stuck with us! C’mon, we’ll get you some new clothes and have Ms. Grimshaw set you up a tent. I assume you’ll want a tent by Arthur, y’know with him bringing you in and all.”

— —

By nightfall you have three new pairs of jeans, two black and one blue, four new shirts, dark green, white, black and red, and a brand new pair of boots. They’ve accommodated you well, and you try not to think about your growing debt to the gang. 

Your tent is nicer than anything you’ve had for a long while. It's a white canvas ‘A frame’ tent with a nice sized cot, a wardrobe and a nightstand. The girls have given you some blankets and items to decorate around the place and it looks good, it’s rather cozy. Currently you sit cross legged on the cot, writing in your journal. The soft glow of candlelight alongside the campfires outside provide enough light for you to write without straining your eyes. It's a beautiful night, and owls hoot as warm wind blows across the Great Plains, it's a perfect moment. 

It’s the fourth day I've been here, but today was different. I met Jenny, and she introduced me to a few others. She’s a lot like me. Jenny doesn’t follow the rules, she makes her own way. I admire her for that. And Arthur? Well, I haven't  seen much of him. He’s been working on some big job with Dutch, and they’re keeping it real quiet. Oh, and he journals too, he picked one up in town today. Never thought a man such as himself would take to journaling. There’s a heart in there somewhere, deep down as it may be. I guess he’s like me in that way…

You startle at the sound of a knock against the beam of your tent. You jump a little, reaching down to your holster before you realize it’s only Arthur. 

“Shit, sorry. You scared the hell outta me. Ain’t used to livin’ with other people.” You laugh, folding your journal shut and tucking your pen into the book’s spine. Arthur is leaning against the tent beam with two bowls in hand, it looks like he’s washed up, probably in the lake or the river, but he's wearing a clean black stand collar shirt and a new pair of jeans. His wet hair drips a little, and the smell of soap travels to your nose.

“You’ll get used to it. Here, I brought ya some dysentery.” Arthur jokes, holding out a bowl of Pearson’s stew to you. You take it, grateful for it even though it tastes awful. 

“Thanks. Here, come sit, keep me company.” You scooch to the other side of your cot, once again sitting cross legged. 

“Well I ain’t no good company miss, I can promise you that, but sure.” 

Arthur sits down on the cot, and it dips under his weight. He watches you out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then glances at your book while you both eat. 

“So what were you writin’ in that book a’ yours?” Arthur asks, nodding towards your leather journal.  

You crack a smile, prodding at the mushy soup with your spoon. 

“You really wanna know? I'll show you mine, but you gotta show me what's in yours.” You offer with a raised eyebrow. Arthur’s cheeks glow a little red and he scratches at the back of his neck.

“Well I just got it today, and I ain’t put much in it yet.” Arthur says a little awkwardly. You take note of his embarrassment, and make a mental note to peek the next time he has it out.

“So how's it been so far? The camp I mean. Everyone treatin’ you well? I'm sure you’ll give ‘em hell if they don’t.” Arthur asks, looking to you, before bringing the metal bowl up to his lips and drinking down the broth left over in the bowl. You can’t help the smile that brightens up your features while you nod. 

“It’s been good. Jenny’s real nice, I like her a lot. All the girls are kind too. I ain’t talked to much of anyone else, well besides Micah, is he alright by the way?” You ask, hoping you didn’t kill him. You don’t really care if the bastard is dead or not, but killing him on your fourth day in the gang would not help your chances of getting along with Dutch. 

“I think he left for a while, didn’t wanna come back and be the camp idiot for gettin’ beat up by a little lady-” He starts before you interject. 

“I ain’t a little lady.” You bite. Arthur chuckles, putting his hands up in mock surrender. He disagrees, you are a little lady, but he also wants to keep his head. 

“Whatever you say, miss. I'm partial to keepin’ your fists far away from this old mug,'' Arthur's smile falters for a moment, and he looks over to you with sincerity, “but I'm glad to hear you’re settlin’ in alright.”

You nod, unsure of how to respond as you extend your arm to place the empty stew bowl on your nightstand. Arthur takes it out of your hand instead, standing up and stacking your dishes on top of his own. 

“Well I’ll leave you to it, I don’t wanna take up anymore of your time,” He tips his head to you, “Goodnight miss.”

“G’night Arthur.” You watch his back as he leaves your tent and returns your dishes back to Pearson’s table. 

You think of him as you dress down and tuck yourself into bed. It’s been a long time since you’ve enjoyed someone’s company. He intrigues you. There's so many layers to Arthur Morgan, and you find yourself wanting to peel them back and discover the man at heart. You toss and turn in your bed, angrily fluffing your pillow and tearing your blankets off of your bare legs just to pull them back on again. Despite the new bed, and the tent, you find yourself  longing for the freedom of the grass, you miss the stars. 

With a sigh, you reach down onto the grass below your bed and grab your boots. You swing your legs over the edge and pull them on, not bothering to dress yourself half decent. The shirt you’re wearing is a man’s, it's huge on you, but Jenny figured it would make a good night shirt. The white shirt swallows your figure as you step out of your tent and into the night. Everyone has gone to bed already as you tiptoe to the outskirts of camp. There's a dark forest at the edge, and maybe it's your exhaustion, but you find it enticing. You walk through the grass, wishing that you could feel it on your feet. It’s only been four days, but dammit, you miss the freedom. Solitude can be a beautiful thing, you’ve found out. And even though you’re glad to have been saved by the gang, parts of you ache to return to the wilderness. 

You slip your cowboy boots off, abandoning them on the ground between you and Arthur’s tent. They slump to the ground, spurs clicking as they hit the floor, and you step into the trees.

You pick wildflowers, humming and singing to yourself as you pluck their stems from the earth and add them to your collection. The breeze is warm and it flutters through your hair. A few times you feel eyes on you, but you dismiss them as animals lurking in the night. Some find the woods as eerie and unknown, but they’ve always been your home. You make a little bouquet of wildflowers, they're all different colors and sizes, and you hold them up to your nose and inhale that deep, specific scent. Lastly, you lay back on the grass, holding the flowers in your hands and look up to the stars. 

“A coach and six white horses,”

You twirl a poppy between your fingers, bringing it up to your nose before you continue singing,

“Blacks and bays, dapples, and grays,”

 You bring your knees up, crossing your legs as your hair splays out in the grass.

“All the pretty little horses…”

You’ve always been on your own, and this will be hard. Acclimating to a new place, with new people, and handing your control over to a new leader, all of it has you nervous, uneasy. You’re not sure how long you’ll stay. A part of you, the part that led you into the forest, begs for your freedom back. And yet a new feeling piques your interest as well, and it scares you. You look up at the constellations, tracing the big dipper with your eyes and grounding yourself with the familiarity. This new pull… it’s dangerous. You’ve distanced yourself from others for a reason, and yet here you are, breaking all of your rules.

—

Arthur’s eyebrows draw together as he leans up on his elbows in his cot. He’s been unable to sleep tonight, too distracted with the Blackwater job, and with you to get some shut eye. He’s stirred up by some quiet click noises, followed by some shallow singing. The song reaches his ears and immediately he recognizes it. It's “All the Pretty Little Horses,” a lullaby his momma used to sing to him when he was a kid. There’s some emotion there that he pushes down, sitting up to peek out of the open tent. 

And there you are. 

Arthur's smile is bittersweet as he watches you, laying in the grass in nothing but a goddamn shirt. Because of course you're the type to pick flowers, barefoot in the dead of night. Of course you’re the type to sing to the stars. He chuckles to himself, and doesn’t even think about it as he grabs his empty journal that he’d bought in the morning. He rests the leather book against his knee, leaning over to grab his pencil off his nightstand. As he does so, his eyes collide with the framed picture of Mary. Arthur sighs, gently grabbing the corner of the frame and tipping it so the picture lays face down. 

“Long time ago now…” Arthur whispers, lingering over the photo for a moment before grabbing his pencil. 

He doesn’t think, he just draws, starting with your legs that are crossed over each other, your torso and the flowers in your hand, and then your face and hair as you look up to the stars. He hums along lowly with your singing as he finishes up his sketch. There’s an incredible amount of detail to the picture, and he tries not to think about why that is as he adds a note to his sketch. 

She’s a lot like the stars in a way, I’ve realized. A force, fiery and burning as a flame, not to be reckoned with. She’s got no ties, she’s on her own. And yet she’s kind, singing and picking flowers in the middle of the damn night. She's something else, that woman. 

[marksbear]

Hi Mark 🐻

I really really like your Blog and your Stories 🤎

I wanted to ask if I may make a request? I've been thinking about Jake Seresin from Top Gun a lot lately and there are only your stories about him.

So, my request would be Jake „Hangman“ Seresin x Male Reader.

-> Jake and M/N are in a relationship, but Jake doesn't want to make it public and hasn't told the others either. He's always playing the playboy.

M/N comes to the bar and sees Jake flirting with a woman and he decides to "get revenge" and flirts with a man. Jake sees it all and becomes incredibly jealous.

Jake confronts M/N and they have a huge fight. M/N breaks up in tears and goes home. The gang try to help Jake and he tells them why he never said he had a boyfriend (fear of his dad).

The gang and even Maverick help Jake do something romantic. Jake orders M/N to the bar again and then blindfolds him. You go into the bar, which is decorated in a totally romantic way. The two eat together and talk. They finish dancing and Jake then leads M/N to the beach where the others are waiting and officially introduces him as his boyfriend.

Thank you in advance and I look forward to reading more from you. Aaaand I wish you a happy new year 🤎

Hey Anon! Thank you for liking my blog and all that means a lot to me! And I hope you like this one my friend!

And sorry for this taking so long! I meant to post it on new years but got drunk and shit and kinda forgot this was in my drafts! 😭

Warnings! Angst to fluff!,

JAKE SERESIN X MALE READER

Y/n was in a different squad. His squad was always going second after Maverick's squad. That means they always see them fly first and go to missions first.

One of the mission's Mavericks team caught them off guard and the navy needed Y/n's squad to save them.

And that's how Y/n met Hangman. Y/n thought he was irritating to save, but he dealt with him anyway taking him to safety.

Even though Jake didn't want to praise the other group he had to praise the leader. Sergeant Y/n L/n. He thought Y/n was pretty damn good at his job. The way he took care of his team and the way he showed why hes the leader was pretty good.

After they completed the mission Y/n and Jake had unrecognizable tension between each other. With all that tension in the room led to Jake cracking and asking out Y/n on a date. They spend almost everyday with each other not missing a single day without seeing the others face. Always sneaking off during classes or training to hang out.

The two were going great. Truly great. Their lives has been better with the other being by their side until Y/n tried to hold Jake's hand in public.

"whoa there Y/n." Jake moves his hand away very fast.

Y/n gives him a confused look and asks. "What? I can't hold your hand I thought we were dating-----" Y/n gets cut off by Jake covering his mouth.

"Keep your voice down..." Jake says in a hushed tone. "Look we are a thing. But not a public thing y'know? Jake adds moving his hand off of Y/n. Y/n stares at Jake like hes a ghost or something. "C'mon Y/n. Don't tell me you actually thought it was a public thing? Trust me we are boyfriends, but not like that."

Y/n didn't know why those words stung. To Y/n it's like Jake had just broken up with him. He didn't know why Jake started to treat him differently in public and private. Y/n's heart stung each time he'd think about it and especially Jake's words.

Since that day their relationship has had a crack. The sad thing is only Y/n saw the large crack not his boyfriend who looked like he wasn't and only saw the relationship as it used to be.

Y/n walks inside the bar in a good mood with some of his friends. Y/n finds an empty pool table and begins the game with some of his buddies. "Didn't think the little kids team was gonna be here." One of the girls say looking at Bradshaw and them joke around.

The little kids. Was your group's nickname for Y/n's boyfriend team name. Y/n looked up from the game and eyes widens.

Y/n grips the pool stick staring at his boyfriend watching Jake caressing a woman's lip with his thumb with a smirk. Jake leans in whispering in the woman's ear as she giggles and blush.

This wasn't the first time he saw Jake flirting with a girl. he always confronted him about it, but Jake always had an excuse and argument ready.

He was tired of his shit. If he wanted to play this game Y/n was gonna play it better. Y/n analyzed the room and got his eyes set on a man who looked good like he should be a model or something. "Play for me John." Y/n gives the stick to his friend and makes his move.

The man is sitting almost where his boyfriend is. Not close, but still close where you can hear the others conversation.

Y/n sits by the man moving his chair even closer to the man. The two hit it off kinda fast talking about all sorts of things. Once Y/n felt Jake's eyes on him he began to really make his move.

He began to give him compliments and little touches on the man. The man really did seem interested with Y/n flirting with him back even putting his hand on Y/n's thigh.

The man leans into Y/n whispering in his ear.

And that seems to finally get a reaction with Jake. Jake dismisses the girl saying "I'm not interested in you anymore." The girl looks hurt and heartbroken but walks away with some tears in her eyes.

Jake seems to move his chair around facing his boyfriend and the stranger's full attention on the two. Jake's jaw is tight as well is fist. Y/n side eyes his boyfriend sees his angry state and goes for the cherry on top.

Y/n gives the man a light kiss on the cheek. "Bye, hopefully talk to you soon?" Y/n says patting the man's back. The man gives Y/n a bright smile and a flirt wink before heading off leaving the bar.

Before Y/n gets to go back with his team he gets stopped by his boyfriend. "Y/n. What were you thinking flirting with that guy?" The blonde is gripping his boyfriend's wrist.

"What? I can't make friends." Y/n uses the excuse Jake always says when he confronts him. "It's not like we are a thing." That last line caused Jake to flip.

He shouts insults and remarks at Y/n not even caring about the tears in Y/n's eyes. "You're such an embarrassment. Theres no telling what people would say about me if they found out about you. And how could you be so selfish! Always trying to get me to come out Y/n I swear!---- " Jake stops his rant when he hears Y/n's choked sob fall from his lips and when he sees tears rushing down Y/n's face profusely no matter how much he wiped them.

Y/n storms out of the bar covering his face with his hands. Jake watches Y/n team follow after him quickly. "God. What did I do..." Jake's mind speaks for itself.

Hangman moves to the nearest window watching Y/n's team member hug him and open the car door for him. "What did you do Jake?" Phoenix asks looking outside the window beside him. The team all stare at Hangman.

After Jake tells them they all shout at him even coyote. Jake doesn't even try to defend himself knowing that he was in the wrong. "Why did you keep him a secret?" Fanboy asks shaking his head in disappointment."Yeah! Y/n is like one of the best people ever!" Bob adds in.

"Because of my father! Theres no telling what he will say or think if I come out and I have a boyfriend on the side of that."

"So, you were being a shit show of a boyfriend because of your father." Payback says starting to understand everything now. Hangman shakes his head yes.

"Someone call Mav. We gotta help this fool win his boyfriend back." Phoenix says with a plan already in mind.

TIMESKIP

Jake is standing outside the bar heart pounding out of his chest. The blonde begins to overthink his plan and himself. "What am I doing... he hates me now." Jake says covering his face with his hands and a sigh escaping his lips. His thoughts are so loud he didn't even hear a car pulling up and parking.

"Jake?" Hangman shoots his head up and smiles at his boyfriend. "Y-y/n you came!" Jake couldn't help but stutter when he saw him. Y/n wanted to just tear that smile off the blonde, but he knew he couldn't because he grew quite fond of that smile.

Hangman was nervous to give Y/n a hug, but thank god Y/n pulled Jake in his arms first.

The two stand and talk up a storm in front of the bar both of them honestly forgetting the harsh argument they shared hours ago.

"Are we gonna stand out here all day?" Y/n asks in a teasing tone which makes Jake remember his plan and cover Y/n's eyes with a tie. "Really a tie?" Y/n asks letting his boyfriend blindfold him. "Yeah do I have to bring up all the times you begged me to---" "Shut up!"

The couple laugh and joke around before Jake opens the bar door guiding his boyfriend in.

"Are you ready?" Jake asks standing behind Y/n getting ready to untie the tie. "Yes..." As soon as Y/n say yes Jake takes off the tie slowly and smiles to himself once he hears Y/n gasp.

"Jake! W-why did you do all this!"

"As an apology. I was being a real asshole and I messed everything up between us." Jake gets in front of Y/n before continuing. "You mean so much to me. I'm sorry Y/n I-I'm truly am---" Jake gets cut off by Y/n kissing him deeply on the lips.

Once the two pull away they let their foreheads rest against each other smiling and staring into the others eyes. Hangman pulls Y/n's hands dragging him to the bar.

"You did all of this?" Y/n asks looking at the romantic and beautiful scenery. "Of course I did!" Jake steals all the credit about working on the place even though it was mostly Bob and Maverick.

Hangman goes to the back of the bar getting f/n and handing Y/n's his own plate with a drink before he gets his own food sitting beside Y/n. "This is perfect. You are perfect." Y/n says eating some of the food.

The two talk about whatever is on their minds and cracking jokes. When the conversations get quiet it doesn't feel awkward at all it feels comfortable and loving.

"Do you wanna dance?" Y/n asks getting up walking to the jukebox. Jake downs his drink before getting up walking to Y/n standing beside him as he picks a song.

"Not this song Y/nnn." Jake groans seeing Y/n click on the song he honestly hates more than the whole world.

"You be the lady and i'll be the man." Y/n says with a smile putting his hands on Jake's waist.

Timeskip!

"Do you wanna meet my team?" Jake asks sitting on the floor with his boyfriend tired from all the dancing. "I already met your team Jake." "Yeah as C/n not Y/n Jake's cool and amazing boyfriend." Y/n becomes quiet staring at his boyfriend trying to see if hes joking.

"As your boyfriend?"

"Yes. As my one and only boyfriend."

"Hell yeah!"

"So what are we waiting for let's go!"

The two jump up from the floor and run out the bar hand in hand. "Are we seriously going to run to the beach!?!" Y/n asks with a shout.

Once the two arrive at the beach Hangman takes Y/n's hand giving it a large squeeze before turning around facing him. "Are you ready?" "Of course I am." They share one last smile before walking up to the group.

The group is quick to be silent giving the couple their undivided attention.

"Everyone. I'd like for you to meet my boyfriend Y/n." Jake says pulling Y/n in front of him.

THE END!

[roselightfairy]

8, 10 and 19 for the fic writer asks!

Oh thank you for asking! From this list of questions:

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

Whenever I've "had" to write sequels for fics, it has been entirely because I've felt internally compelled to continue the story! Which is to say that a lot of my fics, even those that were supposed to be one-offs, already have sequels! But I do have a few fics that I've long wanted to write sequels for, but the must just hasn't moved me in that direction.

Love in a Time of Politics: I loved exploring this soft no-war AU so much, and these gentler, peaceful versions of the characters and their families. I've tried a couple of times to start an epistolary sequel to this one that is Legolas and Gimli getting to know each other better, working out a betrothal, etc., but it just hasn't had the real juice to get started (and epistolary is hard for me to write). But I would love to do it someday!

Full Moon (and by extension, Words Unspoken). Words Unspoken was actually supposed to be a one-off, and then Full Moon was already the sequel-prequel that begged to be written - but I left off the ending of the fic with a bit of a tantalizing sequel hook, and one day I'd love to write it!

Muse: Oh, the sequel to Muse is the white whale I'll never really accomplish. The premise of this story is so wild and out-there that I really wanted to try writing about Legolas from LOTR learning how to adjust to a modern life, but it got angsty really fast in my head and it also just didn't quite come together. HOWEVER! Artist @theycallme-ook did make an adorable comic series follow-up that I'm digging back into and kicking my feet wildly about, that you should absolutely check out!

10. what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

This is hard to say! I've had stories I've picked up in stops and starts, and I don't know how complete a draft needs to be to fit this bill, but probably the two most notable stories for this are The Better Part of Valor and Haven. The very first scene of Better Part was actually one of the first pieces of LOTR fanfic I wrote, back before I was publishing - and it sat for four years. I assumed it was unfinished forever, but I kept wishing I'd get the right click to pull it back out and finish it, and finally that came along in the summer of 2021! Haven, similarly, was a story I wrote the first scene of back in the summer of 2022, and then finally got myself together to finish two years later after a lot of fandom journeying.

It's funny, because I'm running @goodintentionswipfest right now and encouraging people to post unfinished drafts, but at the same time . . . sometimes you really do come back to those stories!

19. the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

You know, I'm actually not sure about this one! I don't tend to do as many research deep-dives as I know some people out there do (and definitely feel a little guilty about it). I've researched some strange things from time to time, but I'll just go with a mention that my ongoing splinter sect AU has been so inspired by my graduate work in cultural studies that it now has its own accompanying "inspired by" bibliography. It's not exactly a list of references, more just theorists and work that has inspired me spiritually, but I think it's probably the most research-intensive thing I've done. Also I read Pedagogy of the Oppressed recently for the sake of inspiration for something else I'm trying to work on within that universe (but also I should have read the book long ago), so I guess that does count as research!

Thank you so much for asking these! I had a ton of fun answering them. <3 I am happy to continue answering if others feel inspired to ask from the list!

[squireofgeekdom]

haven't done a writing update in a minute, outside of doing wip memes, so --

meet in the middle, chapter 26, the very last chapter -- I think I last counted this at 35 scenes, now I'm counting it at 33, with three of those scenes not having been placed in the outline, i'm pretty sure i've shuffled and consolidated some things, also i may just be off in my counting, who the fuck even knows what i'm doing. Anyway, 7 of those are almost entirely complete, 13 are partially done with 4 of those being more than half done, and 13 are not started.

damn. usually breaking it down like that helps me realize i'm further along than i thought but uhhhhh this really just reminds me how much further i've got. and it's been over a year. trust me, no one is more frustrated at how long this is taking or wants this fic to be done more than i do. cheerleading is. welcome if you want to. That said, all told, writing and outlining and notes and all, the draft is already 8k/30 pages, so it's not nothin, and I do really love some of the scenes I'm finally getting to writing/finishing, and I feel like I've got a bit of momentum. Just gotta keep coming back. 2024 guys, 2024. (knock on wood)

Other things I'm working on - you think a year and change is a while, the Believe AU series hasn't been updated in two+ years cause whoops, that did in fact grow a plot and an ending and it took a hot minute to figure that out. There are four fics left, and the very last one is with my first reader! (thanks M!)

Things that I've started more recently include two Lucius & Fayeth fics, for High Rollers Aerois, inspired by my relisten through (which I've almost finished up!) The first is actually Fayeth & Aridan centric, tentatively titled 'for I cannot turn yet', structured around three scenes, one of which is done, one of which is partially done, and one of which is still notes

The second Lucius & Fayeth fic is tentatively titled 'many rings', which has four scenes mostly/partially written, and then a big ending montage and set piece I still need to break down

As for more things I've been working on for a long ass time - I started 'we both are' shortly after watching the kenobi series, so well over a year now - it's a reva & obi-wan centric fic, to absolutely no one's surprise. I've been making some progress on it recently, it's got 3 scenes pretty much complete, 8 scenes partially finished with 4 of those more than halfway done, and 5 scenes not started.

Plus, a bonus - if you've heard me mention Somnolence or #somnolence fic fuel, that's my post-canon Insomniac Spider-Man 2 fic concept, that's currently just 3k/9pages of notes and bits of writing, but hey, it has a title and a summary - it, in fact, weirdly had a title and a summary before i managed to put a single word of it on page. if you like the weird mindscape/dreamscape kind of stuff i've done in a fair few of my fics, it's going to have lots of that, and if you looked at the spider man 2 symbiote/symbiote hive mind stuff and thought 'this could be weirder and hornier', it should be up your alley XD

anyway, writing! it's a thing i do sometimes.

[bettsfic]

I think the world is in desperate need of your analysis on ZoLu (and perhaps write a lil fantastic fic while you're at it teehee)

FIRST of all, having seen nearly mackenyu's entire filmography (he doesn't have a ton of stuff and some of it is unwatchable but god i tried), i can confirm that he's always typecast as some kind of angry/sardonic brother figure. that's the key: he is always a brother whose conflict has to do with brotherhood. in one of the very few things where he plays a romantic part, it is with that character's sister figure (but who is actually a cousin).

so here i was, innocently expecting more of the same. but instead i get

i have no frame of reference for the canon material, but i do have a frame of reference for mackenyu's Range, and i can assure you this expression hasn't shown up anywhere.

their dynamic is my kryptonite. goofy boyishness meets unwavering loyalty and reverence. i'm doomed.

unfortunately, i ship them in a very fucked up way no one will enjoy, and i'll probably end up walking into some kind of decades-long fandom discourse i wasn't aware existed.

i started writing a modern AU where baratie is a pseudo-fancy franchise steakhouse. the first part is sanji/nami. the second part is zoro/luffy (zoro is a bartender, luffy is a dishwasher; they're also roommates). i don't know if i'll finish or post it but here are some highlights from the zolu fic, which branches off at the halfway point of the sanji/nami fic. so we see this same scene from sanji's pov earlier.

note this is a very early draft, and it's only in reference to the live action. tw for alcoholism.

It’s Employee Appreciation Day at Baratie. Having been offered an open bar which he does not have to tend, Zoro feels amply appreciated. Luffy is on one side of him, crawling over him to talk to Usopp. Across the table, Sanji has just joined them. Nami, shit-faced, leans against him, and if Sanji doesn’t do something about this tension soon, Zoro is going to kick his ass. Fucking coward, he thinks, but the thought is cut short by Luffy crawling back to his seat, pointy knees and elbows digging into Zoro in the process, like a giant puppy that has no idea how heavy it’s gotten. Luffy’s leg remains crossed over Zoro’s thigh. They’ve been living together so long that Luffy no longer smells like anything. They share the same detergent, soap, shampoo. Zoro’s pretty sure Luffy even uses his deodorant. They have separate toothbrushes though. At least there’s that.

Zoro is less a roommate and more just a piece of playground equipment for Luffy to climb on. At some point these past three years, Luffy’s perspective of where his body ends and Zoro’s begins became skewed. What’s frightening is that Zoro doesn’t care. In fact he enjoys being Luffy’s plaything. He doesn’t have to bear the brunt of existence when Luffy is carelessly snuggling him like a beloved stuffed toy. 

[took a few paragraphs out]

The truth is that he can’t be alone. Doesn’t want to be alone. Those years of his life after Kuina died, wandering through life just trying to make enough money to get blitzed every night, he’d managed to convince himself he was a loner. He doesn’t remember much about that time. It might’ve been the next day or the next year that he downloaded a hookup app. He’d never liked sex—men, women, didn’t matter—but if he could find some sweet shy girl to fuck or a pretty twink, he’d do his duty and then he’d earn his place beside them in bed, hold them, fall asleep with them, maybe even wake up with them. Some of them liked him, wanted to see him again, but he never fucked the same person twice. He needed to be surrounded by people but he couldn’t be close to them. 

Luffy was kind of perfect in that regard. He was physically affectionate to the point of being literally clingy, but emotionally he stayed lightyears away. He was capable of meaningful conversations but he never made himself vulnerable. It was an admirable act. He could look you in the eye and convince you to follow your wildest dreams, could listen thoughtfully as you gutted yourself open in front of him, spilled your darkest secrets and greatest fears. But he’d never reciprocate. In fact, you'd think he didn’t have any at all. That he was living one step to the left of reality, and you could be there too, fearless, if only you followed him.

[nerdnag]

The time has come for me to finish my philosophy bachelor's.

...Lots of ramble below. I mostly just need to get my thoughts out, but there is a plan by the end!

For those of you who were around in May, you may recall that I struggled a lot to get a sort-of-presentable draft ready for my supervisor, hoping to be able to hand the thing in before the end of the semester, and was then completely slammed down into the dirt by said supervisor when he returned the draft a few days later with... pretty strong words about it. Few of which were positive. I couldn't bring myself to read the comments he'd left in the actual document at the time, because the email was enough to bring me to tears.

Yeah.

I mean, he wasn't wrong, it was just a bit shocking to have him go from "hey, how's it going for you, the thesis treating you well? oh and here's a link to a fun video i found on the internet" one day to almost-kinda-petty critique the next. And also, I am wholly unused to disappointing teachers, supervisors, mentors or superiors of any kind. That may sound strange considering my ADHD, which should in theory have gotten me in lots of situations like that, but my entire life, I've usually managed to make use of three things that have helped immensely to get things done well and on time: 1) special interests/obsessions/hyperfocus, 2) perfectionism and performance anxiety, and 3) high IQ. Number one has helped with motivation and creative flow; number 2 has helped motivate me through shame; and number 3 has helped me "bullshit" my way through assignments/relatively easily create a coherent and acceptable final product without doing all of the actual work I should have done (...and also making the actual work I do put in a pretty good quality).

But for some reason, these tactics didn't quite work out this time. I could come up with many different ideas about why this was, but one really important part of it was probably the fact that I've been heavily overloaded with work at my job and still haven't fully recovered from the immense stress I was under from March 2022-June 2023. I might not be able to recover from that period of my life without doing some pretty extreme changes in how I live my life, and although I've been working on trying to make some of those changes over the course of the first half of this year, it hasn't been impactful enough yet.

And so in the middle of this, of trying to recover from a backlog of both work and stress, while still being under quite a lot of stress at work (although not even remotely compared to how it was a year ago), I was also trying to write a bachelor's thesis in my spare time.

Oh, and did I mention I also took on a volunteer position in my spare time from April onwards that has demanded quite a lot of time?

(Jfc why do I do this to myself. ...Because it's fun and I am bad at saying no. That's why.)

Anyway, enough rambling about what's happened and the reasons for it - long story short, I realised I wouldn't be able to finish the thesis in time, and so I told my supervisor I'd hand it in by the end of the summer instead. And wouldn't you know it, the end of summer is closing in. :)

So with the help of my partner, I managed to finally open the document containing my supervisor's comments, and rather than lose myself in complete and utter anxiety and horror over the words, we could sort of laugh over how unnecessarily harsh he was being. (I guess my supervisor actually was a bit disappointed, since he'd seen before that I was more capable than that. I don't blame him.) I also realised that it wasn't quite as bad as I had imagined, and that my life isn't actually over and done for. So yeah. (He even had a couple of positive comments for me, actually.)

Then we made a plan for how to tackle this thing. I'm going away on the 22nd of July, so the goal right now is to have a finished draft to send to my supervisor on the 21st. Then he can read it, give comments, tell me whether he gives his approval or not, and after I've made any necessary adjustments, I can hand in an opposition version by the middle of August. Since I am currently on vacation, and I do need to actually try to wind down from work as well, I've settled on working on my thesis for 3 hours each day, starting tomorrow (the 13th), and my deadline each day is noon. If I realise after this Sunday that I need more time, I'll increase it to 4 hours every day.

It should work. I know what I need to do, and my supervisor's comments are clear. I enjoy writing and doing research and I will finish this in a way that I'm proud and happy about.

So there. That's my promise to myself. I'll climb out of this hole, fill it in with new dirt, and then start building the collapsed tower of blocks up again.

[claudiajcregg]

Tell Other People About Your WIPs

make a list of all your WIPs with a brief description of each and then people can ask you questions about them and then tag other people.

Tagged by both @onekisstotakewithme and @miabicicletta 💜💜💜 Thank you, guys <3 I don't know who to tag that hasn't been tagged already. Interested? Tag, you're it! :) (Please do know that there are no set sections. Pick whatever you want. I went the deranged route.)

I have an outdated WIP list, and many others unaccounted for. This is just a selection of stuff I could see myself posting or editing/retooling to write something new. I love talking about my WIPs, about as much as I hate being perceived because they are not remotely interesting. (I also love knowing which ones people are interested in! I have an incentive to work on them!) (Instead of snippets, part of my feedback loop is sending actual rough drafts to get a sense of whether it's worth working on more.)

Multichapters, different levels of completion.

S5 Pregnancy AU. My main WIP. Can you believe I’ve had this idea for a year… almost to the day? I’ve been stuck since November bc I don’t know how I want this one to end, beyond a birth. (As I’ve mentioned in the past, I feel like this has legs to become a fluffy universe. I have ideas! Timelines!) Gist of it: CJ gets pregnant circa Zooey's kidnapping. How does it change S5? It's less angsty than you think.

Campaign bars, aka campaign conversations sometimes happened at bars in the 1998 campaign. Fun stuff. I need to pick it right back.

What Once Was Ours or the IM AU (2021), aka IM ends with a breakup. Not a WIP. Not a UFO. A secret third thing. (“Finished” but not edited, and I’m doubtful people would be interested. Probably bc of some bittersweet ~memories~ attached to it. I mean, I shared a third of it to discord and people couldn’t care less, at least after a while. Now, better IM AUs are being posted these days; I'm not in a rush.) 33 chapters. 150k words. I do reread it every once in a while, and I cannot put it down. But its 'age' takes me aback. If things had been different, I'd have posted this in H2 2021/Q1 2022 (or even the planned Q2-3 2021). But alas.

The “Almost Ready, question mark” Category

Another SVD prompt meme claim: what if CJ has the crush first. The thing is, I tend to write her as having a relatively obvious crush on him at first until something makes her wise up. So this is just some ridiculous, post-first-meeting thoughts. Most of it was written in one sitting! It kinda fits with something in the campaign bars fic, too.

Post birth, hospital story: A couple of hours after their bb girl is born. Pure fluff. Recently reworked it to make it less wordy. Still failed, but it’s better focused now.

Many ficlets – the few I did post on Tumblr that haven’t been posted to the story I’m collecting them in, plus a couple more. I'm thinking the ice skating one, Jan 22, a few post-eps I wrote last year, etc.

Ambitious Projects I don't think are happening right away (or ever), but probably have a detailed outline somewhere

(I put this up instead of last, because the next category has faves, but it's also a long one.)

Danny is back a bit earlier on s7. Toby leaks (or tries to leak? I always wavered) the shuttle to him, as he and CJ are getting closer.

Simon lives. How does his relationship with CJ evolve post-honeymoon phase? What is it like when Danny returns?

You’ve got mail AU. This outline had two ways the climax could go. I had fun.

Epistolary collab (?) fic. Probably an X + 1 fic. The only one with nothing written; don’t rule out writing it individually at some point.

And because this is so long already (but not as long as it could be)… A few more under the cut – more "I just want to make sure I like them" and "this meme reminded me I meant to pick those back up." And they are still not all. (How do you summarize seven years of writing?? I've only posted 20-something of them, lol.)

“Almost Ready (but I feel like I want to make changes to them) (might just redo them altogether)”

Haunted by the Notion, 2007 edition. My beta Ruth suggested this when she edited the other story, and I wrote it around then. It’s another Christmas dinner at Filomena, and, eight years later, things are different. I feel like it hits expected beats, and is just missing some oomph. Maybe. (As much as I do like it, half tempted to make it 2009. Or later.)

Heaven’s here…: A interrupted proposal. I’ve written many proposals over the years, and I love toying with different ideas and setups. Danny takes the lead here, but I’ve been intrigued by the idea of having CJ do the final twist.

5 to 6 am 'me' time. Another story inspired by last year’s rewatch that I wrote right at the start of it (so Jan 2023?). It has five short parts with five different years of what CJ describes in the pilot as her “me time.” This is one when I think one per year would be fun, but I don’t want to repeat myself.

One bed, “sexy” edition. An AU to a sort of AU (one of the drabbles from this summer) and… it's what it says on the tin. The world does not need to read my attempts at smut. If I didn’t put it in the previous category, it’s because I am not sure that I want to post it. (All the previous attempts are locked somewhere; unfortunately, someone loves this one and noticed when I tried to do that, lol.)

First baby kick: I remember writing this while in grad school (so, late 2017? First half of 2018) but I lost it, along other fic, when my laptop had to be reset because I used Bear to write back then, but didn’t have sync across devices. I rewrote it, and I feel like it's not the same, but still. It's sweet! Includes: Danny talking to the baby, domestic fluff, and… baby kicks!

“This meme reminded me they exist and I love them, so don't be surprised if they are posted before anything in a previous category”

(Lbr, if I added something about them in this post at all, it’s because they sparked some memory.)

Mosaic broken hearts: CJ, circa S4, jealousy. Prompted by a former fandom friend, back in my productive era (first half of 2021; before that friend just ghosted me.)

I can’t believe I captured your heart (pancake breakfast, three words and eight letters). For a while there, I edited it so much but then I fell off. iirc, it was part of some morning-related prompts I saw around that I tried to fulfill in 2018? 2019? And they had like internal progression. But this one was the best of the 3-4, and I kept tweaking it.

Green light of forgiveness (IM-ish) — there are many other IM/IM-Tomorrow snippets I’ve written over the years. I’m not sure if this one makes much sense, but I liked it enough.

Distance — I recall liking this one! Might have to bump it up. CJ is in Africa, Danny is at the Farm and sulking because they left off on some sort of argument. There is some Danny-Abbey friendship goodness here. I even have a second file that is “Distance - shorter version (it’s not)”

Danny writes fiction, shows it to CJ during her pregnancy and she’s into it. Technically written. I would probably try to take another stab at it. Third time might be the charm?

San Andreo phone call/fallout from ID. I just had the idea of CJ reaching out once things calm down. This is one of those fics I’ve written a version of every year or so, but I think there was one I liked quite a bit.

Terrible taste in men — a run-in with an OC ex of CJ. It was so dumb.

Fka Impatience - actually beta’d three years ago (by that fandom friend I've mentioned twice before… actually, three times) and “done”. I just think I’d change so much about it these days. It started being something else but ended up being a CJ-Toby friendship story in which they have lunch and catch up. But I would want to rewrite most of it now, and not just because it’s from like… 2019 (but finished in 2021).

I forgot this one initially! he's passing by, rare as the comet in my sky - 2? 3? times CJ thinks she sees Danny somewhere, and one time she does. (Which tried to work in the 'I remember shunning you' line.) I even wrote some sort of sequel later! Probably useless.

I said I would post a lightning round with fics that are either also done but not ready for me to mention them, or just… not done at all. The length of this post and how much I've spent on it is embarrassing. To give a general overview: in line with the nonsense I've been mentioning, includes phone calls at the end of S7, also a few friendship-focused fics around that time, too; present-day stuff; anniversaries; Hollis fundraisers; weddings; many ficlets, introspective thoughts, a “yes day” fic that's super sweet but needs better dares, the third memoir idea (the original one!!!!) that I had three years ago… And those are mostly the ones I had preselected, lol.

If you're interested, I can screenshoot this part in the notes app if you message me!

Anyway, this is embarrassing, and the worst part is that it's not all. fml.

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Kiko I hope you had a great first day at your new job!!!! And I hope the shit weather we're getting in Louisiana isn't hitting your part of your state cuz boy am I not having fun anymore lol. I have 2 things to bug you with on this Tuesday morning- I do have a teeny tiny lil Goinko ask: I am so curious to hear Gojo's inner dialogue when he's watching Rinko fight. Like the genuine sorta oh shit she's tough, oh shit she aint weak, Jesus what a badass... I'm gonna fuck her xD The second- I have been toying with the idea of writing my own fanfic with my own OC and um... I can't seem to start. I have a decent idea of the general plot, no clue how it will end, but I open up Word, type two words, and then close the program. Idk if I need advice or encouragement lol but I look up to you a lot as a writer so I decided to make it your problem too 😅

RAI, HELLO! 💕

I did have a great first day! It was long and exhausting, but in a good way! 😊

The weather has just been kinda cold and foggy. Like, my drive home today was very foggy. Could barely see at all. But other than that, it. hasn't been too bad!!

YOU ARE NOT BUGGING ME BUT I WILL PLAY ALONG 😂

My answers are below the cut!!

Gojo's inner monologue when he sees Rinko fighting? 🤔🤔

In a few situations, he's super smug that she's doing so well because he knows she doesn't even realize or acknowledge how strong she actually is. So when she's just destroying something, he's all cocky and proud of her. It reminds him how much he loves her because she can take care of herself. One of the things he's always appreciated about her is that she doesn't let her insecurities or pride get her into situations that are too much for her to take. She's not arrogant. She doesn't show off. She's just there to get the job done. But that's what makes it so sexy to him.

So when he sees Rinko fighting, he's literally just like, 'That's my girl. So sexy and strong. I love her so much. Ass looks incredible, too. And she needs to hurry because as soon as she wraps this up, she's mine. Wonder how pissed she'll be if I just take her here-' because he's a horny boi who always wants to be inside her 😂😂

Advice for how to start with your fic?

Don't try to start from the beginning. Start somewhere in the middle, and work from there. The ending doesn't have to be established right away, either. That can develop as you figure out the story! But as for how and where to start, anywhere. Have a random bit of dialogue? Start with that. It doesn't have to stay in the end, but having something there will really help you. Write nonsense. Write ideas. Concepts. Anything to get those juices flowing. Because nothing is more daunting than a blank page.

Two things I saw recently made me realize that I already did these things most of the time:

Writing choppy, maybe cheesy or dumb dialogue. You can fill in the rest later, or not at all. You can change it up or edit it, but cutting and editing, or even re-writing, is easier than getting yourself to write the initial draft.

"You look like shit." "Sure know how to charm a girl, huh?" "You'd be more pissed if I lied to you." "True." "Still look awful, though." "Fuck off."

You don't have to put markers or indicators because it's a first draft. First draft and final draft are rarely going to match, and that's okay. Preferred most of the time, actually. But yeah, just toss that dialogue down to help you get started and then go from there!

Start with notes or random shit about what you want to happen. Some people put it in brackets to describe the setting, scene, or character's actions so that they can continue writing without being bogged down by the pressure to figure out the rest perfectly.

I'll provide an example or two from a WIP of the lockout key idea dump I posted a while ago. (I make no promises that I'll ever finish or post this, but it's the best example I could find that doesn't spoil a bunch of stuff for the other stories)

[he comes to ask for a key even though he's already maxed out his number of lockout keys. he ends up trying to lean in closer and she shoves a cookie in his mouth instead] - this one is a general idea and one thing I definitely want to happen in that scene/snippet

[fire drill in the middle of the night forcing everyone outside until the alarm stops going off. he forgets his key because he had to rush out while he was half-asleep.] - this one is describing the primary setting for the scene/snippet: they're outside, he's very sleepy, and he forgot his key.

All in all, don't be afraid of being random and choppy for your first draft!

I hope this advice helped, Rai! I'm afraid I might have babbled a bit... 🙃

IT WAS GOOD TO HEAR FROM YOU. I HOPE YOU'RE WELL!! 💕💕💕💕

[i-sveikata]

I have a few questions, but please do not feel pressure to answer them. You can ignore as you please! 💙

What is your favourite scene? That you read again and again after you have written?

Which chapter was the most fun to write? And which chapter that made you pull your hair while writing?

Is there any chapter that you want to change a few parts in it? Or that you say “Oh I wish I’d go different ways in this chapter, I wish I haven’t written like this.” etc.

Have you ever felt demotivated while writing graveyards that you wanted to discontinue?

What is the thing you feel excited to write in the future?

and for the wip game: head, heart, mouth please 🥰💙

No no i love questions!!!! Hmmm i think probably the first scene that i ever wrote? which was vegas and pete's clash of wills in the red room of the compound or the escape scene when pete fled the safe house. those two feel very vivid to me when i think of all that's happened so far. (there's also another scene that's still to come but i won't spoil that one ;) not yet )

i honestly can't remember lol. all of the chapters have been fun to write! it's one continual story in my head the chapters are more just break off points for the readers tbh

oh that is a good question. weirdly i never get that??? i do occasionally go back and edit spelling mistakes or wonky sentences when i reread but ive actually never experienced that. usually the decisions i make writing often lead to more progression of the narrative or like foreshadowing for the future (often without me even consciously intending it) so the different things i put in there end up tying together with other stuff. kinda like chasing down a rabbit hole that connects to a entire underground warren but somehow manages to lead back to the main tunnel in the end.

no not exactly i wouldnt put it like that. i've been tired or creatively exhausted and ive taken breaks knowing that i need them in order to keep writing (which is mostly what the delay between this and the last chapter was- also all the family christmas stuff and the stress that comes with that, plus i got covid two weeks before xmas, then i got the flu and walking pneumonia again a week after that and then i went on holiday first week of jan hahaha there's just been a lot going on that's left me physically and mentally exhausted lol) But no that hasn't crossed my mind- i don't usually have trouble finishing stories (even ones as insanely long as this) but i do go through inspiration/idea droughts which is when taking a break for a bit can come in handy.

im actually pretty keen to start working on my original work after i finish graveyards. hoping to dedicate some real time to it so i can finally finish off the entire draft and start looking into trying to get it published so fingers crossed!

Of course you can sentences below!!!

Because when the words seem to sink into Vegas’ head, when the question filters through he turns automatically, expectantly towards Pete. As if out of everyone, he knows exactly where to lay his unspoken query.

\

Pete knows that this is a fight he can’t win. So even with his heart pounding in his ears, Pete bows to Mr Korn before straightening up again.

\

Kinn’s mouth turns down and Pete already knows his answer. Even if Mr Korn tries to sidestep again and pretty it up.

[a-force-dyad-in-space]

A Fanfic Update

Hey guys, I thought I should give you an update about what's going on Ongoing-WIPs-wise just in case you've had some worries.

The short of it is that the writing juices haven't flowed well for a while now and I'm trying to get them back but it is a struggle. I've worked a bit on this fic or other but haven't made significant progress in a few months. I absolutely hope that will change soon but I unfortunately can't force it. It doesn't help that I'm going through some stuff IRL right now that I have to take care of (I am unfortunately an adult who has to do adulting and pay bills and shit 🥲). I try not to be too stressed out about it, but the more time passes the more the anxiety sets in. Wish me luck. 💪🏻

Anyway, here's a fic-by-fic overview, split up by fandom.

THE UNTAMED

The Angsty SongXue Fic — I'll be honest, I've written a little bit since I last updated you guys but I still haven't finished the buffer chapter (at this point I'm thinking about posting chapter 51 even though 52 isn't done yet), so nothing really new here. I really want to get back into a writing flow but so far it hasn't really worked. I am still working on it, though, so don't worry, I'm not going to drop it.

The It Follows AU — I'm ashamed to say I didn't even realize I posted that fic almost two years ago and I still haven't written the second half. I'm so sorry it's taking so long! I definitely still want to finish it! I might rewatch the It Follows movie before I do that, though.

The Observer Series — Oh yeah, remember that smutfic series I started a few years ago of which I've only posted part 1 so far? Yeah, I still need to work on that. I did write chapter 1 of part 2 a while ago, so it's not like it's forgotten, I just need to get my ass up and write the rest of part 2 before I can post it. 🙈

The Color Rush AU — Okay, technically I haven't posted that one yet but I did share a snippet along with a gifset a few years ago, so you guys know it exists. I haven't worked on it in a long time, though, and I don't know yet when I will find the spoons to continue writing it but I'm still intrigued by the premise and want to give it a go. Thank you for your patience!

The Somewhat Sweet, Somewhat Angsty XuanXian Fic — Again, haven't posted that one yet but I've been posting about it, so you guys know it exists. Nothing new on this front. I did want to rewrite the whole thing because I wasn't really happy with the way I wrote it thus far, so I'll probably go back to it at some point and do that, I just don't know when yet.

WORD OF HONOR

The Xie'er Deserves the World Fic — Listen, guys, I love this fic so much, I just haven't worked on it in a while. I'll probably re-read what I've written so far and go on from there, I've just been struggling with the latest chapter ever since I started writing it years ago. It's not dropped, though, I will get back to it! Pinky swear!

SAILOR MOON

I've mentioned here and there that I'm working on part 1 of an epic that is based on a doujinshi I started when I was 13 or 14. Unlike my other WIPs, this one really is 100% self-indulgent to the point where I don't even care whether people will read/like it once I post it when it's completely done. I'll just put it out there to make my teenage self happy because this story has been simmering in my head for over 20 years, and so that my IRL friends can read it if they want to. So, this one will be a long way out, but it exists. I'm only really mentioning it because I've mentioned it a couple of times before and because it's the fic that's been on my mind the most lately.

STAR WARS

You didn't think I forgot about TROBS, did you????? I did work on several beginnings of a draft during NaNoWriMo last year and I'm getting more and more of a clear picture of how I want it to go. For those unfamiliar, TROBS (or The Rise of Ben Skywalker, though I already changed the name of the fic again) is my attempt at an Episode IX fix-it fic that essentially replaces TROS. This one has been simmering in my head since early 2020 and I really want to get it out of there and onto the page for catharsis. I've even held off on reading any other TROS fix-its because of it, even though I've heard there are some really amazing ones out there (and I can't wait to read them once I've gotten my own out of my damn head). I really need to finally finish that beast. Wish me luck. 🥲

UNPOSTED WIPs

I still have so many notes for other fics (mostly for The Untamed) that I want to write at some point. Will I be able to get them all on the page? I honestly don't know, but I'll see where they take.

Anyway, that's all!

[masterwords]

I’m back!

I was thinking about Derek and Aaron having to put together some kind of toy or project for Jack (you know kids always do it the night before it’s due). I’m just picturing some sweet and sarcastic time together doing something for Jack that should be easier but is probably harder than they thought.

Super excited for May now!

Starting May off with this one! And yeah, it got a LOT sappier than I meant for it to...that happens I suppose.

Summary: Jack needs to build a rocket and he has two dads who can help him out. Lucky kid.

Warnings: mention of Derek's dad's death and financial troubles after

Words: 1.3k

Read below the cut or on AO3!

**

** Blast Off **

“You're doing it wrong,” Derek says from the floor. He's on his second set of one hundred pushups, maybe the third, Hotch has lost count. Up and down up and down.

“The directions said...”

“Read them again.”

He can't. Jack lost them about an hour before when Hotch told him to clean up all of the mess he'd made that didn't have anything to do with the damn rocket so they could focus. He can manage chaos on a grand scale, but in his own home it's just a little too much. The sad truth is, those instructions are probably in the trash can beneath the scraps from dinner.

In other words, long gone. He's not digging through the trash to figure this little thing out.

He doesn't think it should matter. There are not that many pieces. They're all laid out, side by side, just like he would set it up if he was taking apart one of his guns to be cleaned. It looks so simple, and it probably is it's just that he's afraid to commit and make a mistake. They don't have time to go buy another kit, they waited until the last minute. Not because anyone forgot, just because Hotch had been a little extra busy at work. Story of his life.

Derek finishes his push-ups and spends almost a full minute drinking every drop from his water bottle. Hotch envies his dedication to fitness, the way he always manages to get these things in without excuse. Hotch hasn't done push-ups in days even though they entered into this monthly challenge some of the guys at the Academy started together. This month is push-ups, next month is running. He'll make them up, no way he's going to come in last or just give up, but he's definitely not making it easy on himself.

“This part goes here,” Derek says, pointing. “I watched my dad and Sarah make one of these.”

“I made one when I was a kid but not from a kit. My dad almost cut his hand off helping me with mine. He wasn't much of an engineer...” In other words, his rocket had looked pretty cool but had been an epic fail. It blew to bits when it hit the ground.

Derek's mom didn't have the money to buy him a kit when it was his turn. It wasn't that expensive, but it would have over drafted her account. If it had been a week later maybe she could have been able to swing it, pinch a few pennies, but things were just tight. Her job didn't pay much and the hospital and funeral expenses were still weighing her down so he was home sick on rocket day to save face. Being the only kid who showed up empty handed would have killed him and Fran knew it. He already had to be the kid whose dad died, he didn't need that too. Things were hard enough on him.

Derek doesn't bring it up but Hotch can see it on his face, he can see it written in the lines on his forehead. He doesn't dwell on these things but they still sting when confronted with them.

“Do you want to take my place?” Hotch asks without a hint of frustration. He thinks maybe Derek might like a do-over. “I could use a few minutes to get some push-ups in before I'm at the bottom of the pile.”

Derek doesn't need the instructions. He can reconstruct a bomb from scraps, he can see the way the pieces fit together and instinctively knows what each of them does. Hotch knows that even if it's not exactly the way the instructions say to do it, Jack's rocket will probably win.

The only thing Derek can think is that this feels huge. This is a father son project, Jack has been talking about it for weeks. The fact that Hotch isn't home often and Jack was worried he'd have to build it with aunt Jessica had been at the forefront of his mind. Not that he would hate that, he just...it was all Jack wanted. Building a rocket with daddy. It's a whole thing. After they build the rockets his whole class will go to a field and launch them, there are even prizes for the winners. Highest, farthest, best paint job. There are about a million categories, enough that each kid in the class will probably get something for their trouble. But Jack just wants to build it with Hotch. And after launch day, to further the experience, they get to go to the air and space museum. It's not the sort of thing some random guy just gets to jump in on. He knows he isn't just some random guy, but until this moment he wasn't really sure where he fit. Jack likes him, or at least tolerates him, and he's careful not to infringe on Jack's precious time with his dad.

This makes him feel like part of the family in a way he hasn't before.

“You sure?”

He expects Jack to politely refuse. He wouldn't mind it. If he could have done this with his father...

“YEAH! PLEASE DEREK!”

Jack's enthusiasm nearly makes him cry. It's all he can do to hold himself together as he takes a seat beside the kid and starts rearranging the pieces into an order that makes sense to him. No hesitation. If Jack wants him to do it, then he's going to do it and he's going to do it right. He thinks about that stupid Inside Out movie that makes him cry every time Jack wants to watch it and he knows this is a core memory.

Maybe for both of them.

They work all evening, laughing and making a mess while Hotch makes up for lost time on his damn push-ups. His arms feel like jelly, his elbows are creaking, but he's back in the running again. He pops a few Tylenol PM so the ache in his arms doesn't keep him up that night but he feels good otherwise. Could probably do more if he wanted but he didn't want. It's late and all he wants to do is read Jack a chapter from their bedtime story and go to bed.

By the time he comes to the table to check on things, they've got it painted with the wildest set of tiger stripes he's ever seen. It looks fast and mean. And the most shocking part? The table is mostly cleaned up.

“Will it fly?” Hotch asks in awe. Derek and Jack laugh in unison and he can't get over how good that sound is.

“Not only will it fly,” Derek starts, standing and arching his sore back. He hates sitting so long. “It's gonna win.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

Hotch takes Jack to get ready for bed while Derek finishes shutting down the apartment, checking locks, turning off lights. He gives the glue a test, tugs at the fins, pulls the nose off and checks that the parachute is intact. It all looks good. He knows the engine is solid, it's in there, it's going places. Once he's satisfied with the work they put in, he heads off toward Hotch's room to wait for him to finish, but hears his name called from Jack's room.

“Yeah?” he asks, leaning in the doorway. Jack is tucked into his bed, Hotch kneeling on the floor beside him with the book in his hand.

“Would you come with me tomorrow?” Jack asks with a hopeful smile. “Since you helped me build it.”

Derek can't stop the tears this time. They obscure his vision and for a moment he's speechless. Hotch nods and smiles.

“Yeah, buddy. If the boss says I can have the morning off, I'd love to.”

“Can he dad? Please?”

“I'll think about it.” He's posturing. It's a done deal. Derek already knows it.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddddddddddddddddd...”

Hotch smiles in a way that lights his eyes up and he nods. “Of course. But only if he brings me lunch.”

“Deal.”

[authorsadiethatcher]

It's time for another State of the Thatcher address. And this time I do it on the American Labor Day. For those who are celebrating, enjoy the day.

I chose this image, because I really wanted to use it on a previous book, but it didn't quite fit. Even without bimbo curves, that is one sexy dress.

The last couple months have been filled with a lot of work, writing multiple books, as well as my next fantasy novel. That fantasy novel, which I'll mention more about below, is now with my editor after a harried week to get it done. But after the major grind that saw me produce over 90k words in a single week, I'm able to sit back and relax a little.

Not that I'm completely taking time off. I took a couple days off last week, but I'm back to it with some great new material. But first, a reminder about where you can find my books.

Amazon is the main spot for most people, so here’s a link to my catalogue: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Sadie-Thatcher/author/B00B4MINAC

Smashwords is a great place to buy books, especially if you don’t like Amazon’s evil empire. You can find them here: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/sadiethatcher

Plus, you can find them at the Google Play bookstore: https://play.google.com/store/books/author?id=Sadie+Thatcher

I’ve added a new way you can get my books. It’s called Ream and it’s a bit like Patreon, but its author specific, made by authors for authors. In addition getting to read all of my new books for a monthly subscription fee, I also give you access to the images that didn't quite make the cut for my covers. You can see my Ream page here: https://reamstories.com/sadiethatcher

Additionally, my books are available through Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Scribd. I don’t have links to those stores handy, but if that’s where you like to buy books from, my books will show up there, eventually. I distribute through Smashwords and have to wait until the review team there approves my books for distribution. This can take days or even weeks.

If fantasy is your thing, take a look at all of my novels under my other pen name here: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Libby-Feron/author/B09PJ9J5RN

I have finished writing the final novel in the Magic's Most Wanted trilogy. I remain on pace for an October 3 release date. As the date approaches, I will be writing a special series epilogue that will be exclusive to newsletter subscribers.

And speaking of newsletters, if you sign up for the Libby Feron newsletter, you get other exclusive content and updates like cover reveals before anyone else. I have a bonus prequel scene up for the Magic’s Most Wanted Series ready to go, just in case you haven't checked it out yet. You can sign up here: https://libbyferon.com/newsletter/

With the fantasy novel plug complete, let me also mention some of the cool stories I have coming out in the next month month.

I just finished publishing the third novel in the At His Service Series. I really loved writing this and I hope readers enjoy it, because it took a lot of work to put it all together. The Billionaire's Bimbo not only wraps up the series, but it ties a nice bow around it all. And there's lots of sex throughout.

Next up on my list is a series that centers around free use and a draft for women. I'm still working on the details, but this series will be available to all paid subscribers to Ream, in addition to my normal publishing channels.

And after that, I've got a series about six friends who move into a house together start going through some changes. I'm still working through some details on this one, but I've already come up with a few things for some newfound bimbos to say in it.

Finally, I still intend to eventually release Fake It Until You Make It in audio. However, my narrator is just really busy and hasn't been able to devote the time needed to get this done. It's a long book, so it could take a while. But I promise it will happen. They even bought a new microphone just for this project.