#i tell you the last time i reread the draft and started looking at stuff I'd written Before

[francesderwent]

priest was asking about our hobbies at marriage prep. fiance listed his jock behaviors; I said I read and I write. "what do you write for?" the priest asked. "myself," I said, "I've been writing novels I never finish since I was ten." "have people read them?" the priest asked. "some people," I said. "has [fiance]?" "no" the priest nodded, and joked, "wouldn't it be crazy if she was writing like, massacres and dark stuff and just all wives killing their husbands?" and we all laughed BUT

even if there IS a tragic dead love interest - and I'm not saying there is!! - I'd invented him and killed him off before fiance and I even became friends. he was supposed to represent all the good things in the past you have to mourn the loss of in order to move forward, and therefore was purposely written to be unrealistically perfect. I repeat. I invented a man whose only purpose was to be so unbeatably romantic and loving that his loss would throw my main character into despair. so if my real-life man didn't want to resemble any characters I've killed off, then maybe he shouldn't be so fucking wonderful all the time

[ladyyatexel]

Hey, I’ve been rereading SWAN for like… the 10th or more time and I’m still struck by how much I love it, even after all the times I’ve come back to it. It inspired me to try writing my own JtHM au and I was wondering how you learned to write the way you do. You got me so invested in the characters and story I love them so much!

Wow, thank you! I love hearing that people go back to it. I am extremely curious as to whether you're reading the original or the very superior please read it rewrite.

Either way, I'm happy you like spending time with my glitter garbage children; they are precious to me.

I am going to say I don't know how I learned to write in whatever way I do and then write a huge number of words about it, okay? You've read some version of SWAN, you know I am great at not shutting up.

I think one of the things that actually influenced this was that my grandmother is a professional storyteller. That was just her job title. She and my grandfather had a large hand in taking care of me when I was under ten years old, and she practiced her programs on me, and told me her tips and tricks. These were mostly geared toward public speaking, but a lot of it carried over to telling stories in social situations and making people listen to you in written form. I think this is why most of my stories start as just dialog exchanges.

Another influence was desperately wanting to be cool to my dad's friends who laughed at everything he said. I studied what they said and how they said it in order to dissect How To Be Funny like a Very Normal Child.

I told myself stories to fall asleep every single night for my whole entire life.

I liked musicals a lot, and how they constructed stories by calling back to other moments musically.

I internalized all the advice we got for writing essays around 7th grade. I had more than one teacher tell the whole class I was the only one allowed to turn in a first draft as a final because I was 'Wonder Woman'. In college I was asked why I was going into illustration because I was 'a natural wordsmith'. I was a little surprised by both of these things!

Assuming that you are interested more for 'Teach Me Your Ways' reasons, though, here is some stuff I am conscious of doing:

I never start with a boring sentence. I learned this from essay writing and my grandmother, who had to convince people to listen to her talk for an hour straight. ''The wind blew the curtains and the sun shined through the windows."? Oh my god, who cares, I'm not sticking around for that. "When he bothered to look, he saw three people in the mirror."?? Um, hello? What does the next sentence say about this? I will indulge you in a few more sentences, author. And then you just trick them into reading every next sentence.

A Cool Phrase you can use like a leitmotif in a musical. In reSWAN, it ended up being 'Trust Me', but I am guilty of something like it in everything, haha. Something I can invoke in tense moments after it's been used casually and cutely over and over or something that can be a surprise inversion later. Grandmother also used this technique frequently.

Ending on the Big Word. If I need to do a reveal, or I need something to stick like a gymnast landing, I save that word for last in the sentence or paragraph. Learned this from grandmother and the how to be funny research. Use some natural sounding twists around the topic or a synonym until you reach the dismount at the end. Takes a bit of practice and wrangling to get it to sound like natural speech and not deliberate avoidance, but worth it as payoff to have the last word that slams into the story recipient be the Emotional, Funny, Tragic, whatever word.

reSWAN in particular was written to be honest. I wanted to put ugly feelings in there. The way I feel about 'they wouldn't want you to be sad' and grieving and identity and relating to people and the stuff Hallmark wants you to stop feeling immediately because happy and generic is always better. I have to believe honesty is critical. All my asexual or demiromantic characters get reactions from that one other person going, 'oh god, thank you, my reality is like this too'. It means I get comments that hurt and make me feel like a monster, but the trick there is to decide to be the monster, I guess. I did not learn this from my grandmother.

I hope this is useful or entertaining, friend! I hope that you even see it, given that you are Anon! Thanks so much for reading and contacting me about it, and if you haven't read the rewrite, please do that~~~~ I'm so proud of it, it is so much more me and so much more Good. 💚

[equestrianequivalent]

Upload Info + General Info

Yes, you read that right. I've finished the first draft of QuintSum. I'm done. I told you, I said I would be, and I finally am! So, what now?

Well, the short answer is that I'm going to release it all on Ao3, but there's a few things to discuss related to that process, because that won't be done in a day either.

How will you release the fic?

ALSO, IMPORTANT: If you started reading before August 2024, I suggest you start over from the beginning. I have changed way more than I ever could've predicted that I would, and it shows. While you're probably going to be able to follow the story, you're probably not going to understand a Solid amount of basic knowledge the characters hold, nevertheless what each character is thinking and why, especially not how we got to this point, if you don't reread the first 28 chapters. But also I'm not your mom you can do whatever you want. But don't say I didn't warn you.

I work on the chapters in batches. Now that I've basically committed to rewriting the whole thing, I essentially upload smaller batches of chapters more often. They often get released either on their own, or in pairs. You can see the current plans in the description on Ao3. Often this depends on how long the chapters will get, or how much work I'll have to put into reworking them, but it also depends on which chapters I like to have out together, since a lot of them work especially well in pairs. Or, in particular, work less as standalones. (Usually because they're in-between transition chapters with less cool plot stuff.)

So there will be 13 categories of chapters I work on, with differing amounts of chapters within those batches. And as you might be able to tell, I'm currently refining how to do this on the fly, since I am always, somehow, managing to get even crazier in terms of length and complexity.

Probably. There is always a chance that I will split up the arcs more, because, I don't know if you've noticed, but the second draft is already getting ridiculously long, and these chapters sometimes take me multiple days to get through. I'm a full-time university student currently getting a bachelors, and I'm at least planning on getting a masters going as well, sometimes I just do not have the time to write as much as I really would.

Anyways! This is how it's going to work on My end of things:

I will edit and finalize the chapters in each release, and then upload that entire batch on Ao3 together. This will take however long it may. I have no deadlines and no goals to hit. It'll be done when it's done. Then I will release a post announcing that this arc has been uploaded, with a link to the First chapter in that arc. This will repeat until we reach the last chapters. And then we're done. It is Way less complicated than it sounds, all you need to do, really, is remember that I will release things less consistently, but when I do release, believe me, you will have stuff to read.

How long is this fic?

135 chapters. And the wordcount of the first draft ended up at 280k words. It will probably be a little more on Ao3 because I always add stuff when I revise. So far I'm 100% on track to double the final draft, but don't hold me to that. I'm personally assuming it'll be somewhere between 350-450k words. All my friends think it will be longer. We'll find out who is in the right once it is done. Point is that while I never intended to set the record for the longest fic sorted by word count on Ao3, well, right now it sure is looking like I will do just that. By a lot. (And don't let the low chapter count fool you, the wordcount goes haywire sooner than you think. The chapters currently average around 4-6k.)

What is important to keep in mind?

Read the tags. I have consistently talked on my main about how the biggest goal of QuintSum has been to "make Elizabeth's death worth it". Third-party sources would agree that I have done just that. In fact, my friends would all claim I've managed to write a by-the-books tragedy. Do with that what you will. Other than that, you can expect pretty standard things from the game. And a few near-death experiences here and there. I will say tho, remember that I rate this story T, that rating speaks louder than Most of the tags. The tags aren't lying, but the severity of it is dictated more than anything by the rating.

Anything else?

Tell @jorvikzelda that you love them because they're the entire reason that I started, nevertheless finished this fuckass fic of mine. Stay tuned for the release, boys, we fucking made it.

(If you want some sporadic updates because I can't shut up, I'm always yappin over at @shiroselia and otherwise you can find me at Ao3 as per usual)

Cheers!

[stllmnstr]

How do you write so well?? Your writing is so so beautiful!!! Any tips?

Oh this is so sweet 😭😭 First of all, thank you! I don’t feel like I have any particularly revolutionary advice to give, but these would be my main points:

1. Practice!!! Write. A lot. I posted my first fanfic in 2017 and had already been writing a lot before that, including original stories, poetry, and just about anything else I could think of. From what I’ve seen, I definitely skew on the older side of enha writers on tumblr, so please remember to be patient and gentle with yourself, especially if you’re young and/or newer to writing. The stuff I was writing at 16 certainly doesn’t read like the stuff I write now, but all of that practice helped me to get there. Writing is hard. I think it always will be. But give yourself grace and keep at it, and you’ll only keep getting better.

2. Read!!! There are so many great authors out there that do amazing, innovative, exciting things with words. I always feel inspired to write after I read a really great book, and reading will also strengthen your vocabulary, grammar, and sense of personal style/voice.

3. Let your writing be “bad” !!!! I very rarely reread stories after I post them, because every time I do, I find at least twenty things I want to change. 😭 Writing and words are a living thing, and there’s absolutely a certain amount of subjectivity to what makes writing “good.” There’s always going to be room from improvement, and you’re always going to be able to find something to nitpick or criticize if that’s the perspective you take. Fanfiction in particular is great, because if your story is something you’re excited about, there’s a 99.99% chance that other people will be excited about it too. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Take that pressure off of yourself, and enjoy the process. Use the experience and the feedback and the practice to write something even better the next time around.

4. Develop a strong editing routine. This is probably the most technical and specific point, but I think it gets overlooked. My first drafts look a LOT different from what I post, usually. I don’t remember where I found this tip, but my writing changed for the better when I started rewriting all/most of my story as part of the editing process. Literally, once I finish a draft, I’ll open a new document and will retype most/all of it, changing things as I go. This helps me to catch little errors and also to improve the overall flow and pacing of a story. I recommend trying it if you haven’t! Like I said before, a lot of “good” writing is subjective, but editing is where you improve the more objective aspects. Making sure that things like grammar, word choice, sentence variation, and general plot are solid will absolutely strengthen your writing.

5. This last tip is actually more for readers: INTERACT!!!!! Reblog, comment, send asks, scream in the tags!!!! Do all of the above!!!! Writing is a long, difficult process, and it takes a lot of effort to post a story. It’s especially hard when you’re new. Like I mentioned above, I posted my first fanfic almost seven years ago, and the only reason I kept posting more was because people interacted with my work and took the time to tell me that they enjoyed it. If you want to read better writing, if you want to read longer stories, if you want more stories to read in general, give writers the incentive to write! I love writing. I really do. But it takes a lot of time and effort, and it’s a labor of love. Posting a story feels a bit like shouting into the void. At the end of the day, your interactions are what make it worth it for myself and a lot of others that publish in the fanfic space. If you’re a writer that is struggling to get any kind of interaction/feedback, a good place to start can be connecting with other writers and building a little community! It will help tumblr (or wherever you write) to not feel so lonely. Plus, having writer friends is a wonderful way to share your woes and get inspiration.

At the end of the day, I think that genuinely enjoying writing is half the battle. If you’re already there, that means you like words. You like stories. You like putting puzzle pieces together and making characters come to life. Liking those things is where it all starts, so keep at it, trust the process, and the rest will follow. 🤍

[peyton-warren]

My favorite fic of yours Although I fell in l've with your writing with "The Hidden Sun" this has to be "Blinded By The Fog" I just love all the characters so much!

My favorite chapter in my favorite fic of yours Chapter 4 of Blinded By The Fog. I re-read this so many times. Always finding all these little scenes that melt my heart. And then that last little words “Ni-night, baby.”  It always breaks me and I'm sobbing like a baby 😭

A fic I haven't read yet from you, but I want to Stick handling series. It's sitting in my drafts for a long time and I swear I will get to it, promised

What made me the most emotional after reading

Already mentioned it, but it is just so, so heartbreaking!

“Ni-night, baby.” 

What I like the most about your writing

Your characters are so full of life, they have their own personality, their flaws, they are loveable. Also, you get emotions out of me with your work, it's just wonderful!

A fic i'm excited for you updating/posting

Well, it's no secret that I hope to see an update on Blinded By The Fog...

Something I wish/hope you write

Anything that makes you happy ad comfortable!

If i've ever shared/talked about your fic to someone else

Yes, I did! Because you need to be praised! You're such a talent!

A fic I didn't expect to like so much

Arresting and arrested - I send you this ask but I didn't think to get THAT! And damn, it was so much better than everything I had expected. This man hanging from the Ceiling is plastered into my mind!

My dear @peyton-warren You have an alley in me and I will always do my best to support you. I know you're having a hard time. Just know that there are people who really love what you create! Because I do! 🥰

Found this in my inbox when i got a new ask tonight. This has been sitting there entirely too long . First of all thank you for your kind words and support. You know how crappy of a day I had today, and how many tears I shed. And this ask brought more tears to my eyes but for good reasons!

Your Favorite Fic of mine: I didn't know you started out with Hidden Sun, I am glad you liked that one. its one of my first here on tumblr and that first chapter holds a special place in my heart. I know how much you love Blinded by the Fog, you are my #1 cheerleader on that one, and I really appreciate as I try to get more of it out.

Your Favorite Chapter of a Fic of Mine: Chapter 4 of Blinded hits me more and more every time I reread it. And once I wrote your ask about the behind the scenes of how Sy was feeling, it is now a whole other level. I didn't intend for him to have so much feeling in that chapter, but man he breaks my heart too.

Something of mine you haven't read yet- I know that one is no longer true because you were able to help me brainstorm Chapter 8!

Whay you like most about my writing: Thank you hon. I honestly just write what the characters tell me to write, and I dont intentionally try to draw out emotions. I do love writing, and I love telling a good story. I am glad it comes across in the writing.

Writing you are looking forward to me writing/posting: It is no surprise at all you want me to post the next chapter of Blinded. And I appreciate your patience as I work through my own stuff as i try to get past this writer's block. And trust me, you will probably be the first person to know I when i finish that chapter.

something you wish I'd write: make me cry why don't you, Nina.

You telling others about my work: I don't think anyone has shared my work as much as you have, ever. I appreciate all of your support, and you telling others about my writing. It means so so much to me, more than you could ever know.

The fic that you were surprised by: I think that fic surprised many people, especially me. your prompt threw that scene in my head and I just wrote it down verbadum as I saw it in my brain. I need to get back to that. Tell the rest of the story that's in my head.

Again, Nina, I just I have no words for your support and how much it means to me. I keep saying thank you, and telling you it means the world to me, but even that does not cover how much you mean to me. Thank you, my friend from the bottom of my heart. You are a such a rare treasure and i value you so. Whether we are talking dogs, hairy titties, or fic, I always love seeing you pop up in my asks, dms and feed. Thank you for being you.

[mood2you]

Blog 6 Writing, Reading, Listening and Learning

Felt alright this week, and it went by quick. Went to the pool, it was really nice, and I hope it stays open longer. Been working on Fallen Angel and Ozymanzous. The hard part about writing sometimes it getting everything to fit, plot and motivations wise. Also having a draft where you just put every snippet you think of in the order you think of it, while it's important to write stuff down when you have an idea, disorganization can be so distracting.

Playing video games less. One of my mods on Stardew broke. Listening to Pokemon Mystery Dungeon music now, frustrated there's so many games and OSTs it's hard to find the one I want.

Happy September.

I've been reading again, I'm reading "Listen to the Marriage" by John Jay Osborn and trying to take notes as if it wasn't a fictional novel. But, a novel could be just as well since it's for Fallen Angel, it can show pacing and stuff for an audience. A lot of books like this are about the person being counseled, and so will mine, but it makes the therapist look really simple, the way a middleschooler views their history teacher and can't imagine having multiple periods of classes. A lot of middleschool teachers are careful to have their classes synched exactly, I'm sure, but in small schools you will be teaching 6, 7, and 8 which means 3 completely different courses. This is what therapists do, right down to the glorified baby-sitter part, except probably 6 courses. Osborn's story only exists for an hour each week in her office, all she thinks about is the couple she's working with (whoa re unreliable narrators) and her grief for her mother. Which is probably enough to have on your plate. Locked-door stories are interesting. I also started watching this series about a seriously Freudian guy (what's the point of harping on mommy-issues, can I fix it now, can I change the past?) reacting, sorry, he's not some guy he's a therapist, reacting to Showtime's Couple Therapy. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUItaloRvoQ Also a note to content creators, hyperlink your links, you will see more clicks. The problem with all my studying, of course, is, it's fake dating and fantasy, it doesn't really matter what the wizard asks, they're not going to get a straight answer, only poke holes in a silly lie. I wonder if real therapists ever get rich people just taking the piss. I think there was a fake dating couple counseling movie, but the closest to a book I've seen is The Rosie Effect, where he gets his friend to pretend to be his spouse for counseling-in-leui-of-jail because telling her about all of it would "stress her out too much" and it's a captivating train-wreck. I would tell them to renew their vows if I thought they'd just met at a bar. The problem is, if they're not taking the piss but rather lying to each other, or not listening, making up a double-life, covering up a double-life, or just are that un-intimate that they don't seem to know each other well, they will think you are an un-serious therapist who cannot help real people.

I'm having a problem with my plan to stop unhauling books that I haven't read: I'm about full-up on books, I still shop a little, and if I move soon I cannot move ALL of these things. Reblogging a post about "you don't have to be "productive" just read to enjoy your spare time" but but but. I read physical. I have a little room for this floating stack, but I don't know how to organize it. I started rereading my favorite book from last year, Woman no. 17, one of the few books I've read but kept.

I also started "Intro to Stoicastic Modeling 3rd edition" which boasts that this edition is more in-depth and less intro-y than the others, which is annoying to me because I don't know how to read textbooks and now you're telling me I should track down edition 1? Anyways, I was sort of thinking about sociology (you hear stochastic in the news when it's discussing motives for man-made violence) then I was afraid it would be that chemistry thing stoiciometry, but it's really the study of all random relationships that influence each other, it boasts it's about math, sociology, psychology, and business leadership. The first example is about cheating at flip-a-coin. If anyone has tips for reading a textbook as an adult, let me know. Probably "just pretend it's a 200 page science/technology book."

[lunaslovelyrambles]

It's canon that Levi is very self conscious about his handwriting since he came from Underground. BUT it's also canon that his handwriting is neat. So how about Levi writing his crush a letter but then decides not to give the letter last minute but too late! His crush saw the letter in his hand and they basically have a tug of war over the letter 💀 I hope this is okay. Thank you ❤️

of course it’s okay!! sorry for the long ass wait.. but thank you for sending this in! it’s such a cute request :)

went w a scenario bc i’m rusty with them! as always feedback + reblogs are appreciated :3

——

levi ackerman

He was screwed, wasn’t he? Yeah, he was totally, and wholeheartedly screwed. The second he felt the wavering in his heart and fluttering in his stomach he knew he was screwed.

Because Levi Ackerman - Humanity’s Strongest Soldier - has a crush.

Levi wasn’t one to focus too heavily on his emotions. Oftentimes he’d dismiss any unusual feelings without any second thought. He didn’t have time for that: any sappy, mushy feelings. He was a soldier first and foremost. That was his duty, and that was his priority above all. He should focus on the fight for humanity and that solely.

So why, why was he so hellbent on getting your attention?

Because he liked you, that’s why. But he didn’t want to admit it. He could die at any second and so could you. Like hell he’d want to form a relationship under those conditions.

Still, pushing his feelings toward you aside didn’t help in the slightest. Every day as he watched you laugh with some of the other cadets he felt his hand clench around his cup. He wanted to sit by your side, hear your beautiful laughs and be with you goddamnit.

Why was this so hard? Why was liking someone romantically so hard?

These thoughts permeated his mind as he stared at his paperwork. His pen had been sitting on the table for quite a while now as he thought, once again, about you. He had long forgotten about what he needed to get done for the night and was purely lost in his thoughts.

Should he tell you? No- what if you rejected him? He’d be crushed and not only that but things would be awkward then.. but what if you said yes? Then he could finally get this off his chest and-

He groaned heavily as he laid his head on his desk, causing some of the papers to crinkle underneath. He couldn’t stop the thoughts from growing louder and louder in his mind. They were all too loud and distracting for him to do anything.

But he couldn’t just go and confess! That wasn’t the kind of person he was! He wasn’t the type to just do something like that.. To him, it was way too embarrassing.

As he laid with his head on his desk an idea suddenly entered his mind. One that would save him some embarrassment while also conveying his feelings perfectly. Well, less embarrassing than directly confessing that is.

A letter.

He could write you a letter. The perfect way to confess his feelings. He could write exactly what he wanted and completely avoid the awkwardness of him telling you. It was only an added plus thay writing a letter was seen as sweet and romantic to most people.

Levi finally picked up his pen and started writing on a new, clean sheet of paper.

-x-

It had been several days since he initially came up with the idea to write you a letter and Levi still hadn’t written one that he liked.

Several balled up sheets of paper could be found stacked in his garbage can, and even more burned in the fireplace.

For some reason he just couldn’t get the wording right. Every time he wrote it it just didn’t seem... right. It didn’t feel good enough, it was too blunt, it was too wordy. Every draft he was just unhappy with. And he kept trying only to be continuously dissatisfied.

He sighed as he set his pen down another time. He looked at the singular sheet of paper and began to reread it.

“Dear (Y/N),

I just wanted to say that - ”

“Whatcha got there?”

Levi nearly fell out of his seat. Standing in the doorway was none other than you. And you were very curious to know what he was holding. For a split second he thought about balling it up and chucking it at you, but his body reacted quicker and shoved it into his desk drawer.

“Why didn’t you knock? Didn’t you learn any manners?” he quickly retorted, but he was still caught off guard by your entry thus causing his words to come out quicker than he would have liked.

You rose an eyebrow and walked further into the room, closing the door behind you.

“I did. Several times actually,” you responded, “What was that paper you shoved into your drawer?”

He swallowed thickly. It would be hard for him to maneuver his way out of this one.

“Why are you here? Do you have something to report?”

“...no. But you haven’t really been out of your office all day. Now answer my question.” As you spoke you inched closer to his desk before standing on the side - the one closest to the drawer with the paper in it.

He didn’t answer. Shit. You were not gonna let this go.

He half expected you to keep harassing him with questions until he either forced you out or gave in. But you chose a third option, which was one he wasn’t expecting.

Which was shoving yourself between him in the drawer, effectively blocking him as you grabbed the letter out. Luckily for him, he regained some sort of mind to fight with you for the paper as it left the drawer.

You tugged on one end and he grabbed the other, neither of you showing any sign of letting go. He really started to begin to regret training you to be so strong.

As he gave one harsh tug, and you doing the same, the letter finally ripped in half from the tension. He had the top half and you had the bottom.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you always go through other people’s stuff without permission?” he looked down at the paper and back up at you. Naturally he was angry with you for taking out the letter without asking, but when he looked up at you his anger slowly dissipated.

Your mouth was slightly parted and your cheeks were slowly heating up as you finished the letter. Your eyes then flickered from the letter up to him. You turned around the letter to face him and pointed at the words on the bottom.

“I really like you, (Y/N), and I’d love to go out with you sometime.”

“Is this... for me?” you softly asked. His mouth formed a thin line as he avoided your gaze, his cheeks now dusted with a faint pink. There was no way he could say no, it wasn’t for you, because your name was literally on the note.

He was beyond embarrassed. He was mortified. His feelings were out in the open now and there was no going back.

Just as he was about to leave the room to avoid the uncomfortable sting of rejection, he heard you giggle. The noise made him glare back at you, and it was that that made you full on laugh.

Now he really felt humiliated.

“I just can’t believe that you fought me tug of war style for this,” your laughing died down a little, “Did you convince yourself that hard that I’d reject you?”

Levi didn’t know what to think anymore.

“I mean.. kind of, yeah,” he still spoke softly, still not looking at you.

“You’d be wrong, then.”

He finally stopped looking at the floor and back at you. You were smiling at him, a big toothy smile and one that he loved seeing every day.

“I thought that letter was, like, you kicking me off your squad. So I thought ‘hey I’ll bite the bullet and take it out even if he’ll hate me for it’ or something I don’t know. I’m sorry for going through your stuff-”

Before you could finish your apology Levi had uncharacteristically pulled you into his chest. He had felt like someone crushed a building on him when you stole that letter out but now? He feels like he just got the best night sleep.

“Don’t. Don’t even worry about it. I’m.. glad you took it. It’s okay,” he smiled into your shoulder as you returned the hug.

Maybe he’ll write you letters more often.

——

masterlist || rules page

[fanmoose12]

ansgty hc inspired by your recent post where hange and levi were sending each other letters: let's say that levi lived until the end of the finale and as he finished helping armin settle in the commander's office, an eccentric-looking box catches his attention. it turns out to be full of hange's old journals she kept as a trainee until she became a commander. some of these write-ups would be yeaaars old. research notes, grocery lists (that had stuff he liked written down, like his favorite brand of black tea and cleaning supplies 🥺) aaaand of course, for a dash of extra pain -- letters she never gave to him (she probably wrote a scratched-out love confession somewhere). imagine a post-war recovering levi clutching hange's journals and reading her entries way baaaack before and during the no regrets ova timeline until the marley vs paradis arc TIME TO SOB :((((((

"Captain, you don't have to do this," Armin spoke softly. "I can clear it all myself."

"No," Levi harshly refused. "I'll do it. It's- it's the least I can do."

"Captain..." there was an infinite sadness in Armin's voice and in his eyes. Some of it, Levi knew, wasn't caused by the need to clean Hange's office. They all had their fair share of tragedies.

"I'm not your Captain anymore," he answered wearily. "And don't bother yourself with worrying about me. Just-"

"I'll give you some time," Armin nodded. He gave Levi one last cautious look and then turned, slowly walking away.

Levi watched him go for a second and then looked at the door, grasping the handle. He opened that door hundreds, if not thousands of times. There shouldn't be anything hard about it. Yet his heart was in his throat as he stared at the wooden surface.

It was the second time he was clearing that particular room. It was the second time he couldn't protect what was important to him.

He let out a shaky breath and turned the handle.

The room was dusty. It was messy, with stacks of papers littering every possible surface. It was... just as Hange left it.

Levi gulped and stepped inside.

His knees grew weaker with every step. He tried to pretend it was from exhaustion. He tried to keep his composure for as long as it was possible.

He decided to start with a desk, gathering all the papers, quills and books. Most of it held no importance - simple reports, accounts and official letters. Levi held each paper with utmost care, laying it inside the card box he had brought with him.

Most of the stuff there was meaningless, useless. But not for him.

For him, it was a proof, an evidence of Hange's existence, a testimony of her work and life, of everything she had accomplished. For Levi, it was the most precious thing in the world.

Slowly and methodically he looked through every paper and journal. Hours went until he moved from the desk to the bookshelf, from the bookshelf to the closet.

His hand trembled, as he opened it and saw Hange's jacket still hanging inside. His fingers touched the soft fabric. It wasn't washed in a long time, Hange's smell still clinged to it. Levi took it off the rack and draped it around his shoulders.

He pulled the jacket tighter around himself and continued with his work. At the back of the closet he saw a small box, and, curious Levi took it in his hands.

Inside lay even more papers, but those were different. They still were written by Hange, but the handwriting was different, a lot messier. They were written before Erwin's death, Levi guessed. They were written back when Hange was still allowed to be a messy, crazy scientist, not an strict and experienced leader.

The box contained her scribblings and doodles, drafts of new weapons and outlines for the next experiments. There were a few of drawings, and the quality of them told Levi that they were most likely done by Moblit.

At the very bottom of it all, Levi found an envelope. 'For Levi' was written on it.

Levi's breath hitched. Carefully he opened the envelope. Inside there was a letter.

Feeling his legs buckle, Levi sat down on chair beside the table and started reading.

If you're reading this, then one of those things happened: you went through my stuff again, probably during your cleaning spree; I was too much of a chicken to tell you everything myself and left it by your door; or... I'm not with you anymore. If the latter is true, than I'm sorry and I hope you can go on without me. Also I hope that in my last moments, I looked as awesome as possible. If not, then please pretend I did.

Either way, I'm writing you this letter because there is so much I want to tell you and so little time to actually talk with you. Life has been hectic in those last years, don't you think? Sometimes I wish we could go back to the way it was. I wish we could go back to the times, where it was just us - you, me, Erwin, Mike, Nanaba and Moblit fighting a hopeless fight against giant monsters. No shifters, no Marley, just our shitty little world inside the walls. Don't you think it'd be nice?

You probably don't, and you probably are rolling your eyes at my naivety. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you how much you mean to me, Levi. You are the closest friend I ever have. You're the last friend that I have, and I... I can not thank you enough for this. For sticking by my side through thick and thin, for tolerating my quirks and weird habits, for being my rock in this sea of uncertainties. I lov... Ah, well, you probably know exactly how I feel about you, subtlety was never my strong forte.

We live in a terrible world, but if there is one thing I'm grateful for, if there is one thing that almost makes it all worth is the fact that I've met you. You make me so happy, Levi, and I'm so happy to have an honor of calling you my friend.

You know, sometimes I wonder - would we still get along if not for our circumstances? Would you still like me if not for the duty that bound us together?

Sometimes I try to imagine a different life, a life where we could be allowed to be happy. To be together - safe and alive. Maybe, I'd still be living with my parents, up in a big mansion in the middle of the capital. Maybe, you'd be a notorious criminal from th Underground I'd have a scandalous affair with! You would sneak into my room in the middle of the night, getting past my father's guards and climbing inside though the window.

Or, maybe, I'd be a student and you'd work at the bar I frequent. I'd be trying to flirt with you to get free drinks for me and my friends, and you'd grumble and roll your eyes at me, waving me off like an annoying fly.

Maybe, we could be simple soldiers, without high ranks and important tasks. We'd be allowed to retire and run away to a small village, where we could live together and raise some cattle.

Wouldn't it be nice?

It would, and I'm sure you think the same. But life is what it is, and, for better or worse, we can't do nothing to change it.

Despite all the shit we've been through, there is one thing I would never think of changing, and it's meeting and befriending you. Whatever happens when you read this letter, I hope you remember this. And remember me.

Forever yours, Hange

There was a dark, old stain at the end of the letter. As he finished reading it, another one appeared.

Levi let the tears flow, rereading the letter again and again. He could almost hear Hange's voice as he read her words. He could almost see her smile and her bright eyes.

He wished Hange told him sooner. He wished he confessed to her before the world had torn them apart. But he knew it wouldn't have changed anything.

They were soldiers, nothing more than tools of war. Their hearts weren't their own, they belonged to humanity.

But with no squad to lead and no battle to fight, Levi turned into an old and broken man. His heart still wasn't his own, as he had given it away, sacrificing it along with his hope for a happy future with the one he loved.

He could still dream, though. Dream of another life, dream of those scenarios Hange described.

He could still dream and hope that it wasn't their last meeting, that in another life, much kinder than this one, they'd be allowed to be happy.

[mf-despair-queen]

Partners in Crime - Lee Taeyong

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Lee Taeyong/Reader - Mafia AU

Word Count: 17,864

Summary: Y/N meets the man of her dreams one day randomly on the street. Little does she know - he is the boss of a mafia in town. But does she care? No. They were partners in life - and partners in crime. 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, I am too lazy to put more to this. 

Notes: April Fools - I’m actually posting! I’ve only had this sitting in my drafts completed for over 3 months. Be warned - I didn’t really proofread this. But it’s fine. everything is fine! Enjoy! 

“You should have left while you could…”

“You know that wasn’t a choice.” A hand slid into his.”We are partners in crime after all. If you go down, I’m going down with you. I will follow you to the ends of the earth, and I will never regret it.”

A small smile graced the man’s face, lacing his fingers with yours. With a reassuring squeeze and the click of his gun in his right hand, he glanced to his side. 

“I honestly knew this day was going to come eventually. I knew I would go down one way or another,,” he rasped, tucking the gun once more into the back of his jeans. His eyes locked on yours before continuing, “But I’m glad that I have you by my side.”

You smiled at him before placing a tender kiss to his lips, your free hand carefully placed on his bandaged shoulder. His eyes closed, relishing in the feeling and taste of your lips on his. The screams from outside the building fell on deaf ears. The threats made went unheard. In those ten seconds, it was just the both of you, embraced by the calm emotions shared between your forms. Silent tears slid down your cheeks from fear and sadness, knowing your impending fate, but he wiped them away gently after pulling away. His lips dragged down yours as he backed away solemnly, wishing this wouldn’t be the end.

“I love you,” he mumbled just loud enough to be heard. 

“I love you too,” you repeated, taking his hand and preparing to stand and face the gallows of red and blue lights flashing through broken windows and bent blinds. “I always will, Taeyong.”

“Excuse me!” The young man called, though his calls went unnoticed. Heavy footsteps fell along the concrete as he attempted to catch your retreating figure, clutching the book you dropped while rapidly making your way down the road. When he finally caught up and tapped your shoulder to get your attention, he understood why you ignored his calls. 

With a jump in shock, you turned to the red haired man in awe. Earbuds were tucked deep in your ears, soothing jams filling your mind as you moved. Time stood still when your eyes met his deep brown ones, your heart jumping slightly. Before you stood a handsome man, mid-twenties if you had to guess, with sweet, angelic eyes, fluffy hair draping across his forehead and shielding the small slit in his eyebrow, and the sharpest jaw you had ever encountered. 

He wore a simple red wool shirt that hugged his neck and lean torso, a thin black hoodie and a puffed gray vest that was decorated in red designs. Black jeans hugged his slim waist, a black belt wrapped through the looks, and black vans covered the white socks on his feet. Three sparkling earrings dangled from his left ear, a ring adorning his left helix and one single stud rounded out his jewelry. 

Realizing that all you were doing was staring, the man awkwardly smiling and uttering mumbled words through your music, you tugged the earbuds out. “I’m sorry about that,” you whispered sheepishly. “Music.”

“I get it,” he chuckled deeply. His voice was smooth and sweet, the underlying rasp making your heart jump a second time. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I saw you drop this earlier.”

He extended the book towards you, your eyes widening at his gesture. Carefully, you took the book from him, glancing into your small bag to find it empty. “Oh my god. I didn’t even realize it fell out. Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he laughed, tucking his hands in his pockets. “It’s the least I could do to help a beautiful girl.”

A blush spread along your cheeks, a shy smile growing on your lips. Tucking the book safely back into your bag, you glanced at the handsome man. “Well, can I know the name of the lovely gentleman that returned my book and made my trip to the cafe to read not in vain?”

He smiled, extending a hand toward you. “I’m Taeyong.”

You took his hand, finding it warm and soft. “Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure, Y/N.”

“Same,” you chimed. “Well Taeyong, how can I ever repay you for this?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” he started to say, sealing his lips when you shook your head.

“Please, I insist! I really appreciate what you did. I would have lost it in the middle of the cafe if I found I lost this book. It’s my favorite and it was a gift from my sister,” you confided. “I want to repay you somehow. Please?”

“Well,” he started, rubbing his lips together. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a cheshire-like smirk. “You could let me buy you a coffee.”

You giggled at his suggestion, tucking some hair behind your ear. “I’d like that, but only on one condition.”

“Oh?”

“You join me for said coffee?”

Taeyong chuckled, nodding happily. “I’d love that.”

A smile grew on your face, butterflies fluttering rampantly inside your stomach. You could feel a small blush spreading across your cheeks as your looked up at the handsome man. “Great. Shall we get going?”

Taeyong smiled back, his glowing smile infectious. “Lead the way, beautiful,” he uttered. You nodded, turning on your heel and leading him towards your original destination - Haru & Oneday - with Taeyong at your side. His hands were tucked deep in his pockets as you walked, a happy hum coming from the man. “So, tell me about yourself.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “That’s a deep conversation. I hope you know that.”

“I have time.”

A skip inside your chest, a knot of excitement in your gut, a flash of heat across your face despite the chilled weather of December.

“Well…”

The entire afternoon was spent talking, tucked into a small corner of the cafe. The second you arrived, Taeyong asked what you wanted. While he ordered your coffee, you picked a secluded place to talk, knowing the book you planned to read that day would go untouched. You were more interested in the mysterious man that captivated you on the street, kindly returning your lost item. 

And learn about him you did. He was a kind soul, living in the same building as a bunch of friends that he worked with in business. He enjoyed singing and dancing in his free time, spitting a rap that made you laugh and clap in excitement. He liked to cook, but you figured out that he had a massive sweet tooth more than anything from the way he devoured a whole slice of chocolate cake by himself. The smile that lit up his face as he ate the decadent treat made you smile happily. 

You told him your story - where you were from, growing up in Busan, your love for cooking and reading. You even told him about the boring desk job you worked to pay for the small apartment you had. You lived an ordinary, boring life in your opinion, but Taeyong listened intently, taking interest in the little things that made you happy. 

Just as the sun was setting and his phone was ringing, presumably from his friends asking where he had disappeared to, did you agree to wrap up for the day. Taeyong slipped from his seat first, but not before sliding a folded napkin in your direction. 

“I enjoyed spending the day together, Y/N,” he mused, pocketing his hands. “I’m glad I was able to meet you today. It really made my day better. I hope we can do it again sometime.”

He waved before walking off, leaving you to gather your stuff. Just as you were finishing, you glanced at the napkin he left. Your stomach flipped and your heart raced, finding his phone number written on the paper, a cute doodle of himself, and the simple words of Call me? printed underneath. Tucking the napkin in your bag, you left the cafe, thanking the owners on your way out.

It was dark by the time you arrived home, closing the front door with a soft click of the lock. Your shoes were left forgotten in the doorway, headed straight for a shower to wash away the day’ odor. Finishing your nightly routine, you returned to the bag you left on your bed, sitting on the plush mattress. Your fingers tugged out the napkin, your lip tugged between your teeth as you contemplated shortly.

Your fingers moved without much though, grabbing your phone and typing the number into a new contact. The message you sent him was simple.

To: Taeyongie - Hey. This is Y/N. I just wanted to thank you again for today. It was great meeting you and getting to know you. I hope we can do it again sometime. 

His response didn’t take long.

From: Taeyongie - I’m glad you messaged me. I was worried for a bit that I wouldn’t get to hear from you again. 

From: Taeyongie - I’m glad I got to meet you too. You really brightened up my day, so for that, I have to say thank you.

From: Taeyongie - I can’t wait to see you again.

Your heart was aflutter, sinking into your bed and rereading the message a few times. You were glad you decided to brave the cold and travel to your favorite cafe, even if you hadn’t intended to almost lose your book and meet a gorgeous gentleman that seemed to steal your heart from under your nose already. After many failed relationships through school and early adulthood, you didn’t think you’d find someone like him that would sweep you off your feet so easily. 

When your phone buzzed again, making you jump slightly in shock, you reread his last message three times before your eyes grew wide.

From: Taeyongie - Though next time, I hope you’ll allow me to take you out for a proper first date.

Your fingers shook as you tried to type a coherent response, 

To: Taeyongie - I’m looking forward to it.

He really was one of a kind.

~

Nearly four months after meeting Taeyong, you were head over heels for the man. You talked to him daily, waking up to sweet messages wishing you a good day and falling asleep to messages bidding you sweet dreams. You had learned much about the man, finding yourself falling deep into the abyss of his chocolate colored eyes. You were wrapped around his finger, though not in a bad sense. He had stolen your heart, and you were willing to let him keep it.

Every other week, you found yourself going out with the man when you weren’t at your house together. When you chose to stay in, you would be wrapped up on your couch or in your bed watching movies while his fingers ran through your hair soothingly, or the tips of his fingers ghostling along your arms. You’d make dinner together, play games together, and even go out to walk Ruby together when he brought the small dog over for your amusement. You’d occasionally find yourself dancing together around the house, singing whatever song he decided to play for you, but you never once hated these moments. They were some of your favorites.

But he would insist on taking you out to dinner, treating you kindly to a romantic date that consisted of expensive dinners or trips to random places - the arcade and the beach being recurring destinations. He’d never let you pay, sometimes making you wonder how he could afford the expensive meals - he never did clarify what his job was - but you wouldn’t decline the dates if it meant you could see him. After the second date, he would always tentatively kiss you goodnight, the connect short and sweet, leaving you craving more. You never shared more than that - though you wished you did.

Tonight was one of those nights. Taeyong had sent you a sweet morning greeting, telling you that he was going to take you out for dinner that night. He didn’t specify where - only to dress elegantly, finishing with a cheesy remark that you always looked fabulous. He planned to pick you up at six sharp, leaving you the rest of the day to clean around the house and prepare for your fancy date. 

At five, you jumped in a shower, dressing in a lacy set of red lingerie before doing your hair and make up. You picked a sleek black dress from your closet - an expensive present you had gotten from your family one year but never found reason to wear - that would accentuate your curves, but not flaunt you in a promiscuous way. The skirt flared out against your thighs and the top hugged your chest, not being too showy around your cleavage. You wanted to impress the man, not make it seem like a slut. You finished with a pair of low heels and minimal jewelry consisting of earrings and a necklace Taeyong insisted he buy you on your third date.

Exactly at six, he was knocking on your door, holding a bouquet of roses in his hands. He smiled brightly, tilting his head cutely in greeting. The silver earrings swung with the movement, a few loose strands from his slicked back hair flopping loose. He wore a red and black checkered jacket over a black and white checkered button up shirt, tight black jeans with rips in the knees hugging his lean waist. 

“Hey beautiful,” he greeted, extending the flowers towards you. “These are for you.”

“You know you didn’t have to, Tae,” you giggled, taking the flowers from him and relishing in the delicate aroma they offered. “But they are beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I know I didn’t have to but they always make you smile,” he mused with a smile. He watched you rush to put the flowers in a vase before grabbing your purse, locking the door on your way out. His arms wrapped around you, hanging loosely at your side as he stared down at your smiling face. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you murmured with a light blush, running your hands up his arms, resting on his biceps. “You don’t look half bad yourself. Not that it’s hard for you with your face.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he laughed, taking your hand. “Shall we get going? Dinner awaits.”

“Lead the way.”

He led you to a car - which was rare - that took you to your mysterious location. The tall man in the driver’s seat introduced himself as Johnny, giving you both a smile before driving off. Turned out the man was one of Taeyong’s friends that he had told you briefly about before, and he had kindly offered to drive you both seeing as Taeyong didn’t have a license himself. Johnny kept to himself, allowing you to talk freely with Taeyong, the red haired man flirting carelessly the entire time.

You arrived at a tall building, Taeyong chuckling at the confused look on your face when Johnny parked the car and opened Taeyong’s door for him. Taeyong held out a hand to help you from the vehicle, thanking Johnny for the ride. The tall man simply pat his friend on the back and gave him a wink before returning to the car and driving off. Your hand slid back into Taeyong’s as he led you to the doors of the building, the doorman nodding.

“Good evening, Mr. Lee.”

The interaction with the doorman and Taeyong further confused you. This was different than your normal dinner dates where you always had a private room or balcony in the restaurants, servers catering to your every need. He wasn’t leading you into a high class restaurant where he could bypass the line and walk straight to a table without question. You were in a pristine lobby with a fountain and couches, a giant chandelier above your head. 

He led you to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, snickering at your confusion. He didn’t bother to clarify what was going on. He simply ran his thumb over the back of your hand, listening to the music play above you. When the elevator dinged that you were at the top floor, the man led you out wordlessly, digging into his pocket for a set of keys for the door at the end of the hall.

“Where are we?” you finally questioned, watching him unlock the door. 

Taeyong hummed while pushing the door open, allowing you to walk in first. He witnessed you gawking at your new surroundings, the elegant living room of the penthouse you found yourself in leaving you flabbergasted. “Welcome home,” he chimed, shutting the door.

“This is where you live?” you asked, turning to the man. In the time you knew him, he had never once talked about where he lived. You had never seen his house, always spending time together in your tiny, cozy apartment. Now, you were staring at the large living room with multiple plush couches, art lining the walls, and a large kitchen and dining room in the distance. The table was decorated with candles and place settings, a bottle of wine being chilled in a bucket.

“Is it too much?” he asked, pouting slightly. 

“You just never mentioned you live in a penthouse!” you scolded, shoving him lightly before wrapping your arms around him. “But this is breathtaking.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he whispered. “I figured that today is our fifth date, not counting our little cafe rendezvous when we first met, so what better date night than for me to make you dinner in my own home.”

“You’re making dinner?” you chirped, gleefully bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I love your cooking so much.”

“Well, go ahead and get comfortable and I will get cooking.”

You nodded, watching him make his way into the kitchen. He poured you a glass of wine before he started cooking, watching you sink into one of the couches to watch him. He caught you occasionally looking around to take in the impressive surroundings, laughing to himself. He told you that his friends lived in their own apartments in the lower floors, leaving you to wonder what exactly they did to afford this. You didn’t know his exact line of work - he always just said business - but he was obviously successful enough to afford the penthouse of the building.

Taeyong beckoned you over when food was ready, pulling out your chair for you. He poured you more wine before serving you a piping hot bowl of bibimbap. Taking his place beside you with his own glass and bowl, he tilted his glass towards you. “To the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You giggled, flushing brightly and tilting your glass to his. With a clink of cups, you responded, “to the most handsome man in the world.”

The meal was delicious, melting on your tongue. You made small talk as you ate, enjoying Taeyong’s giddy nature from drinking. The man couldn’t hold his alcohol at all, and one sip left him red faced and giggly. You helped him with dishes when you were finished, even though he protested it vehemently, finding yourselves flicking water at each other and blowing bubbles into the air.

You curled up on the couch together for a while before he would have to take you home, Your head on his chest and his fingers running through your hair. The silence was welcoming, the sound of his erratic heartbeat all you needed for comfort. He would sometimes hum a song for you, but mostly you just relaxed in his grasp. It was times like this that you enjoyed the most - being with him made you feel content. 

In your entire life, you never cared for someone as much as you did the red haired man before you. Never in your life did you like someone as much as you did Taeyong. He made you feel loved and cherished. He made you feel beautiful and wanted. 

You wanted nothing more than to be with him forever.

You frowned when he suggested it was time to take you home. Instead of calling Johnny to drive you back, you opted for a late night walk so Taeyong could sober himself up, treating yourselves to some crepes on the way. You walked hand in hand the entire way, the sway between you both making your heart jump in your chest. 

Arriving at your apartment, you sighed under your breath, turning to look at the man. “Thank you for tonight,” you told him, giving his hand a squeeze. “I enjoyed our date. I think this was my favorite date so far.”

“Well, there’s more of these to come,” he chuckled, tugging his lip between his teeth. He stared at you silently, moving his free hand up to your face. His fingers curled against your cheek, smoothing across your skin as you sank into his touch. “Y/N…”

“I should probably go inside-”

He cut you off with a passionate kiss, tugging you into him. Your hand was dropped so he could cup your face in both hands, putting everything he could into the connection. The shock from the initial kiss wore off, your eyes fluttering closed and returning his kiss. It was deeper than any kiss you shared before. His head was tilted and your lips meshed together perfectly. Your hands gripped at his jacket, pushing up into him as much as possible. 

The world around you stopped. It was just you both in that moment, sharing the most amazing kiss you had ever dreamt of. This was what you wanted, this was what you had waited for. The way his lips dragged against yours as he smothered you with his lips left you eager for more. The smack of his lips disconnecting from yours left you gasping for precious air, yet a desire to return your lips to his.

“Be my girlfriend,” he rasped deeply against your lips. 

All you could do was nod in return before he was kissing you again, dropping his hands to your waist to tug you closer. Your hands moved up and around his neck, tangling into his hair, pulling him deeper into you. The kiss intensified, lips speeding up and parting for an entourage of open-mouth kisses to start. Your bodies were flush against one another, heat spreading along your limbs.

The moment was broken from the ring of his phone, the red-haired man pulled back with a scowl. He kept you against him as he fished the phone from his pocket, reading the message he had received. Low strings of curses left his mouth before dropping the phone back into his pants, tilting your head to place a kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to go. Something came up that I need to take care of.”

“Is everything ok?” you wondered, frowning at his for his reaction to the message.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine, I promise. Just some last minute work popped up that I need to help Mark with,” he tried to reassure you. Something was off about his tone, but you nodded at him anyway. He must have caught your uncertainty, pulling you into a light kiss. “I promise it’s nothing to worry about. Now, go inside and I will talk to you tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright, Taeyong,” you whispered, kissing him one last time before backing away to unlock your door. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, blowing you a kiss as he backed away, turning on his heel and stampeding away. 

You watched his form vanish around the corner, tucking yourself into your apartment. Leaning against the door, you let your fingers run along your lips, smiling at the thought of your new boyfriend. The questions you had about his late night business venture were pushed aside for now as you chose to trust the man. You rushed to your room to prepare for sleep, enveloped in happy dreams of the red-haired man.

Outside your building, Taeyong stared up at your window for a moment before a black car pulled up. He quietly filled the backseat, meeting eyes with Johnny and Mark. The blank tint of the windows kept the outside from seeing the gun passed to him by the young lad int he passenger seat, Taeyong checking the clip once over.

“How’d it go?” Johnny questioned cheekily.

“You know the rules,” Taeyong glowered. “Don’t touch my girlfriend and protect her from this shit.”

“What’s going to happen when she finds out?” Mark asked.

“Don’t worry about that. That’s my problem,” Taeyong hummed, tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “Focus on this deal for now. I can’t have you distracted if this goes south.”

“Yes sir,” both men spoke, the car going quiet as they advanced towards an abandoned warehouse where their deal was to take place. 

~

One year. 

One year since you started dating the love of your life. Six months in, you had been the one to say it first.

“I love you, Lee Taeyong.”

He didn’t hesitate to repeat the phrase multiple times while placing kiss after kiss to every inch of your face and neck before curling into you and cuddling you tightly. You didn’t regret saying it, especially after he responded the way he did, loving you just as much as you loved him. You knew you wanted to spend your life with this man; you knew he held your heart in the palm of his hand. But you were happier than you had ever been. This was the highest point in your life.

You started spending more time around Taeyong’s massive penthouse on your days off or after work, your routine with Taeyong nothing different than before. Everything just seemed to get better - especially as his friends started to migrate into your life as well. There were twenty boys living in the building that he worked with, but he had a group of eight others that were closest to the man and popped up most often. 

You had met Johnny before when he was your chauffeur for your date, so getting to know the tall American was different. He loved photography and fashion, sometimes spending his time with you on your days off by having mini fashion shows in Taeyong’s penthouse. Taeyong always had a good laugh when he walked in on your faux walking down a runway, planting himself on the couch to watch and take his own pictures.

Taeil was the oldest of the bunch, a quiet man that enjoyed singing with his friends Doyoung and Jungwoo. He was famous in the group for his dad jokes, becoming the butt of many jokes. He also had an equally bad alcohol tolerance to your boyfriend.

Doyoung was a snarky man that loved to pick on Taeyong, but you could tell he cared about him. He had rabbit-like qualities that you found adorable. When Taeyong was busy when you were around, Doyoung would make you delicious meals that left you in a food coma on the couch until Taeyong would return.

Jungwoo was a mischievous little brat, but you always found him to be funny. He whined childishly for attention and played around with the others. He craved long hugs that made Taeyong yell at him because he was taking his girlfriend from him. 

Jaehyun was your workout buddy. The fittest of the bunch, the man with deep dimples had offered to exercise with you when you complained you had gotten lazy in Taeyong’s house. You could never keep up with him or Johnny, who often joined you both in the gym, but having someone there to push you was worth it. 

Yuta had the most infectious smile. He would always play games with you and make you smile. But the thing you did most often was watch soccer together. The man loved the sport, having grown up playing in Japan, so watching games together was always exciting. He got so captivated by them that he wouldn’t realize he was jumping around wildly.

Haechan was a brat, but he was skilled in dances. He had this innate ability to watch a dance on tv and perform it. His time would be split between the main group of nine and the younger boys in the building. Even with his evil personality, you loved the young boy, happily failing by his side when you would dance together.

Mark was probably your favorite. He was the one around most often, caring for you when Taeyong was working. He had quickly grown to be like a little brother that supported you through everything. He told you about his life in Canada while you told him about your life in Korea, sharing the littlest things with each other. He would play the guitar for you in his spare time, often lulling you to sleep with the beautiful melodies.

You didn’t expect to meet such a rowdy bunch, but they made your relationship with Taeyong even sweeter. And though you still often had dates with Taeyong, you also spent a lot of time with the group on outings. Going out for meals or going around the city was more special with your hand clamped in Taeyong’s and the bundle of males running around you.

As much as you have enjoyed your one year anniversary alone with Taeyong on a romantic date, eating an expensive dinner that you knew Taeyong would insist you have and finishing the night together tangled in the sheets, you were glad you went with the current idea. When the group found out that it was your anniversary, they insisted on taking you both out for a good night.

What started with a fun meal of barbeque that they paid for completely, not a single cent paid by you or Taeyong, turned into a drunken mess at a nightclub. Hesitant at first, you barely took a shot or two of soju with the others. Taeyong was wrecked just from those couple shots, beginning to drink more and more. Watching him enjoy himself let you relax, beginning to down your own drinks.

The night slowly became a blur of flashing lights and loud music, but you knew Taeyong was always by your side. Either his hand was in yours or resting somewhere on your body - the small of your back, wrapped around your waist and hugging you to his side, and resting on your thigh as you sat at a booth, drinking and playing games together. 

You danced together, your body rolling against his. He was obviously more skilled than you were, but even in his shrunken state, he led you confidently and naturally, grinding against you eagerly. Your back pressed against his chest as his hands sat on your hips, fingers splayed against bare skin from where you shirt rode up. When you faced him, you arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his fluffy red threads. 

Hot kisses were left on your mouth, your lips left puffy and swollen from the multiple attacks he left on you. You were already warm from the club and the plethora of people around you, but your body was searing against his. Each taunting kiss he gave you, lips parted and tongue slipping into your mouth, left you craving more. Your hands wandering against his form, trailing up and down his arms, let him panting, the man tugging his lip between his teeth.

“We should get out of here…”

That’s all he had to mutter once for you to find yourself escaping the heat of the club and back in Taeyong’s penthouse. It was past midnight when you stumbled through the door together, your lips latched together in a sloppy kiss. Your arms were wrapped weakly around him, trying to kick off your shoes as you pushed into the doorway. Taeyong kicked the door shut with his foot, struggling to lock it and discord his sneakers before entering the house. He couldn’t focus with your lips connected to his, your tongues swirling together eagerly between your cheeks.

He picked you up with easy, a squeal of shock lost to his throat. His steps were uneven as he moved forward, supporting you with one hand on your ass, the other following the wall to guide him through the darkness. The kiss broke when he tripped over the rug and bumped into a table, a bruise bound to form on his knee. Low curses left his lips, the man rushing into the bedroom. 

The door slammed shut behind you, Taeyong turning to trap you against the sealed entryway. His lips found home once more on your own, igniting another fiery kiss between you. You happily returned it, tasting the vast amounts of alcohol that lingered on his taste buds. A subtle swipe of his tongue against your lips told you to part them and let him inside, which you willingly complied. The taste of the bitter liquid from the evening was heavy on his tongue as it roamed your cheeks.

Your moans were muffled, mind foggy in the midst of the kiss. It didn’t occur to you that his hands were traveling up your sides, pushing at the bottom of your shirt until it was resting underneath your breasts. The skim of the pads of his thumbs against your sides and ribs sent shivers up your spine, more mewls of delight lost to the sensual lip lock. Taeyong pushed harder against your, his hips rutting against your clothed core, both sets of jeans blocking what you truly desired in that moment. His head tilted to deepen the kiss, letting out a groan of his own.

The first time you separated, chests heaving for precious amounts of air, he uttered two short words. 

“May I?” 

You knew what he wanted, even in the blur of words that met your ears. You nodded at him, arching off the door long enough for him to rid you of your top, the cotton fabric strewn across the floor carelessly. Lips back to yours for a single second before disappearing south, searing hot kisses leaving a wet trail along your neck and clavicle. Your swollen lips parted with delicious moans for him to savor, trembling fingers lacing through his locks on the back of his head. 

His teeth toyed with the strap on your left shoulder first, playfully nipping at your skin in his futile attempts to drag the strap down your arm. Your mewls of delight mixed with short giggles before taking the opportunity to rid yourself of the pesky garment. Taeyong pouted without a doubt - he always hated when you did it for him - but didn’t bother to argue. 

His lips found home on your bare chest, lips wrapping around the pert nipple on your right breast. A content sigh left your mouth, back arching into his touch. Your hands twisted through his red strands, giving him a tug whenever he found a sensitive spot on your chest. You tried to watch him through the haze, but your eyes were blurring too much. 

Was it the alcohol still present, slowly wearing off? Or, was it the pleasure of him suckling at your nipples, giving them short tugs with his teeth, and pulling away with short pops that rang in your ears?

You didn’t know, nor did you care. You were in heaven.

Taeyong spent several long minutes pleasuring your chest, red marks lingering on the mounds and between them when he swaps between them on occasion. With each kiss he left, and each bite he left, his hands holding you up against the wall grabbed at your backside. His hips ground against yours, becoming more frequent and harder against your covered core. The bulge in his tight jeans was obvious, growing more prevelant by the second. His cock was stiff, and his actions just solidified what he wanted.

Placing you on unsteady legs, his nimble fingers made quick work of your pants, the man kneeling long enough to tug them down your legs. Your panties came with, leaving you naked before his eyes. The red head toppled slightly, nearly falling on his ass in his tipsy state. A mixture of the alcohol and his awe at your body left him speechless and wobbly, slowly standing while working at his own jeans.

Your hands were quick to replace his, struggling to undo the button of his dark skinny jeans. Taeyong had to place a hand on the wall to keep himself upright, his other hand massaging his face a few times before pushing his hair back. Low groans and swears escaped, staring down at you when you grew frustrated and collapsed to your knees, stumbling just as he had. 

“Dammit,” you growled, tugging angrily at the jeans when they wouldn’t unbutton. Taeyong chuckled deeply.

“Need a hand?”

“No. Fuck you. I can do it myself.”

The man let out a hefty chortle at your frustration, repaying you for what you did earlier. His fingers made quick work of his own jeans, the button unsnapping and zipper slowly lowered before your eyes. With a short huff, you tugged the dark denim down his legs, leaving them around his ankles so you could rub at his covered cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned loudly. The hand he had on the wall slowly curled into a fist, pounding against the wall lightly. You smirked up at him, biting at your lip. He rarely cursed, but when he did, you knew he meant business. “Don’t tease me.”

You clicked your tongue at him as you tugged his boxers down, letting him spring free. The fabric was left to pool at his feet, you focus turning to the large cock staring straight at your face. It twitched with anticipation, the tip red, swollen and oozing precum. It pulsed as your fingers grazed along the shaft. The sight made your mouth water, tongue tracing your lips slowly.

Taeyong’s fist pounded harder to the wall, a loud grunt exhaled when he felt your lips on the tip just before taking the entire length between your cheeks. He struggled to focus, blinking repeatedly to clear his vision to watch you bobbing your head along his cock. Your hand gripped the base firmly, pumping it in time with your bobs. Your tongue trailed along the underside of his shaft as you moved, the tip traveling along the pulsing vein that protruded out. Your other hand toyed with his balls, juggling them between your fingers and giving them light squeezes.

“Shit,” he cursed again, earning a small smile from you. Taeyong leaned forward, placing his head against the wall, heavier pants starting to leave his lips. He could barely form words with the overwhelming ecstasy of your mouth around his cock. “Please, baby. Give me more.”

You kept your motion steady, not giving into his plea entirely. You wanted to savor the taste of his salty sweetness that seeped onto your tongue, overriding the bitter drink from the early evening. Taeyong didn’t seem pleased; his hand gripped at the hair on the back of your head, his hips jutting forward suddenly. He halted when you gagged once, knowing his abrasive stunt was a bit much.

When you were situated, stilling your movements but keeping his cock resting on your tongue, he thrust forward against. He leveraged the hold he had on your hair to push you forward, your nose meeting his pelvis. His cock met the back of your throat repeatedly as his timed thrusts met your forced head bobs, a slobbering wet gurgle of him fucking your mouth filling the air. Taeyong moaned loudly, unable to keep his voice down - not that he needed to. 

He didn’t stop until he was groaning loudly, his wild thrusts that had grown sloppy ceasing and he was spilling his salty seed down your throat, the white ribbons of cum filling your cheeks and swallowed happily. He pulled out at the end, hand wrapping around the base and giving it a few final pumps. The last few shots landed on your face and chest, your tongue extended to try and capture them. You let out a hearty giggle, tracing the cum along your face and chest with a finger.

Taeyong huffed when he watched you suck the finger clean. The man, fed up of waiting, hoisted you up by the hand before lifting you bridal and turning towards the bed. With the fabric still bundled around his ankles, he stumbled forward, kicking anxiously at them to discard. 

You were thrown careless on the bed with a light yelp and laugh, Taeyong pouncing on top of your bare form. His lips instantly met yours, furious open mouth kisses shared. Your bodies were grinding against each other rapidly, hands eagerly tracing each other’s forms. Your legs twisted together, feet playfully nuzzling against one another. Your arms looped around Taeyong’s neck, fingers curling through his tangled red hair. 

Taeyong pulled away, glancing between your forms long enough to align himself with your core, sheathing himself inside you with one quick thrust. Your eyes closed, moaning and groaning from his size. He wasn’t the largest man out there, but it never ceased to amaze you whenever you were intimate how well he could fill your pussy up. The man stilled, peppering your face with kisses and uttering sweet nothings until you gave him the signature tap on the shoulder to let him know he could continue.

His thursts always started slow, pulling back until he was about to leave you empty and then pushing back in completely. The pace would be slow and steady, soft moans leaving you both. But as time went on, he would gain momentum, hips starting to snap into yours hastily until he was slamming into you, pressing you into the mattress. The sound of clapping skin grew louder, the moans became screams of his name, and your body trembled under his. 

You were quick to orgasm, feeling his thick cock sliding in and out of your tight core quickly, pounding at you quickly. The tip pushed against your g-spot every time he pushed into you, earning himself a breathy pant from below him. Your walls would hug around him, making it harder for him to concentrate on his thrusts. It grew worse when he felt you shudder, back arching and toes curling. Your pussy squeezed him, spilling around his thick shaft and soaking it completely. 

Taeyong stopped moving, not wanting to fill you up so soon, watching your twitching form relax after a minute. Leaning back on his knees between your legs, he pulled himself out, satisfied at how wet his shaft was. HIs fingers toyed with your sensitive entrance for a moment, hearing you groan and watching you twist in subtle discomfort.

He placed a longing kiss on your lips before turning you on your side, laying behind you. His fingers ran along your sides soothingly, drawing different shapes on your stomach and chest. He carefully draped your leg back over his hips, jutting his forward to slide himself between your pussy lips. A low mewl escaped, turning your head back to him to share a loving kiss just as he pushed into you once more.

His hand gripped at your breast, lips pressed to your shoulder. His thrusts picked up steadily, pushing himself deeply into you from behind. The new angle allowed him to hit deeper inside you, his already moist length sliding with ease between your tight walls. He collided with your backside with each thrust, groaning happily with every smack he heard. The bed squeaked with his quick thrusts, jostling with the movements of your bodies. 

Despite his hard and fast repetition of his cock pushing into you, his lips placed kisses to your ear. You could hear his pants and low grunts in the buzz of your ecstasy, enjoying the way he felt thrusting into you furiously. Every slam into you made your head spin, the feeling of his length sliding against your walls causing your heart to beat faster. The way his lips felt against the side of your head at the same time that his cock pushed deeping to and pressed against the most sensitive spot to make you quiver was causing your stomach to burn.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured into your ear softly, nipping at your earlobe. When you moaned in response, his lips curled upwards. His hand grasped tighter to your breast, burrowing his face into you. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I-I love…” you started, panting quickly. 

Taeyong knew what you wanted to say. It was clear. He also knew that you were close again - because so was he. His thrusts were growing sloppy and he could feel your walls tightening sporadically around him. You were both chasing the final high of the night as exhaustion was becoming apparent.

He pulled out, leaving you whining and empty. It wasn’t for long because he pushed you once more on to your back, sliding into you quickly and roughly. Every time, Taeyong had a thing for finishing in a way where he could see your face. He loved to watch you ascend into heaven, feeling blissful from sex. He leaned on his knees between your legs, one hand pushing your leg back and resting on the back of your thigh so your foot rested on his shoulder, and the other pushing your other leg out to spread you wide for him. His eyes were cast onto you body, swapping between your breasts bouncing with his quick snaps, to your heavenly face, swollen lips parted with moans.

“Come on,” he whispered, feeling the sweat running down his brow. “Cum for me, baby,” he pleaded. Rule number one with Taeyong: he always wanted to make sure you were pleased before he was. He always made sure to make you cum before him, and if he didn’t he would work extra hard to please you. It wasn’t uncommon for him to beg for you to snap under him.

“Tae…”

“I know baby,” he let out, heaving for air. “Come on. We’re almost there. Just let it go for me.”

“I love you…”

He grit his teeth and dove in for one last kiss, both of you breaking at the same time. Your bodies trembled together, your juices spilling around his length and his thick seed filling your core completely. Your inner walls were painted white by the strings he spewed, letting them decorate your core in warm stickiness. You moaned into his kiss, too weak to hug him close. 

You were limp when he pulled out, half-lidded eyes watching the satisfied man. His fingers danced along your core, spreading your pussy lips to watch your combined juices trying to escape. One slick finger carefully pushed the juices back in, causing you to shutter and mewl his name. Content with the pleasure, he collapsed beside you, two sweaty bodies sticking to his silk sheets. A thin blanket was dragged over your bodies, one of his arms draping across your stomach. You curled into his side, letting out a long breath.

“I love you so much,” you whispered again. Taeyong didn’t reply, making you glance up at him. “Taeyong?”

“Move in with me,” he whispered. you almost felt like you didn’t hear him right. You blinked a few times before sitting up slowly, groaning in pain. You hugged the blanket to your chest, turning to the man. 

“What?”

“Move in with me,” he repeated, louder this time. “You’re already here all the time, and you shouldn’t have to be paying for the dingy apartment. I love you so much, baby, and I want you to live with me.”

The room grew quiet, the air thick. You repeated the offer in your mind. The alcohol had worn off at this point, so there was little chance that he wasn’t thinking straight. Taeyong stared at you silently as you thought, biting at his lip. Only when you carefully took his hand in yours and placed them laced together in your lap did he let out the breath he had been holding. 

“I will,” you mumbled before turning to him and kissing him passionately. “I will, Taeyong. I love you so much. I will move in with you.”

“Wonderful,” he whispered, kissing you once more. “You just made a man very happy today.”

“Well, you always make me happy,” you told him back.

“Yeah. I always will…”

~

You awoke to the sunlight streaming through a small crack in the curtains, the light hitting your face directly. A low groan left your lips as you turned over, finding the bed cold and empty beside you. Since moving in with Taeyong, you had become accustomed to the morning he was gone when you woke up. He had work to do, and he hated to disturb you when he left. 

When your eyes fell on a small box on your side tab and a folded note, you smiled. Carefully sitting up, blanket to your chest, you grabbed the two items, looking at the note first. It was short:

A beautiful present for a beautiful woman. I will be home for dinner, so I will see you then. I love you. Have a wonderful day babe.

You shook your head, looking into the box. It was a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings that would dangle and shine from your lobes. You shook your head, letting out a short laugh. 

“That man,” you scowled playfully. “He just doesn’t know when to quit.”

He always bought you presents, especially after you moved in months ago. They were always expensive, and you would yell at him for wasting so much on you. He said it wasn’t an issue and he wanted to spoil you. It left you wondering how much money he had. You never fought him hard about it; the gesture was always sweet and made you smile because he thought of you so much.

Climbing out of bed, you grabbed an outfit from the closet, showering and dressing quickly. It was the early afternoon when you stepped out of the penthouse, leaving the large building with a pep in your step. You walked down the road to a small market store on the corner, a place you would frequent when you had small cravings or needed mild groceries. With the thought of Taeyong returning in time for dinner, you wanted to return his generous gift with a homemade meal of his favorite items - complete with a chocolate cake.

The only issue was you were low on groceries. The last of your groceries went to a large group dinner a few nights prior, the pair of you opting for take out after that. You figured you would only get a few groceries for the time being until Johnny could take you down for a full grocery run. 

The door jingled when you walked in, the street oddly empty. You paid no attention to the lack of people around, waving at the store owner who sat at the register behind the counter. You grabbed the small reusable bag and disappeared down the aisles, humming to yourself as you searched for what you needed. 

“Let’s see. If I make kalguktsu, I will need more noodles and vegetables. We have stock still, and I could pick up some prawns for it too. Maybe grab some snacks and something for lunch. Maybe some kimbap…”

You talked to yourself as you placed the desired items in your bag. Making it to the last aisle for your snacks, your eyes ran over the items, searching for anything that sounded good. You kneeled to the floor to look at the lower shelves, placing the bag aside, when the door jingled again. Initially, you paid no mind to it, figuring another customer walked in.

Until you heard a gunshot. 

You collapsed to the side in shock, watching the water canister in the corner get pierced, water leaking onto the ground and flooding it. You covered your mouth in shock, afraid to make a noise. 

“Well, well, Dohyeon,” someone spoke, causing you to shake. “Is anyone else here?”

Your breathing stopped. you glanced towards the end of the aisle, afraid they would hear you or find you. You could feel your hands shaking, tears starting to leak from your eyes. With bated breath, you awaited the owner’s response. 

“No,” he responded confidently, no waiver in his voice. “It’s been slow today. But I guess I know why.”

“Yeah,” the person responded. “Come on in, boss. Coast is clear.”

The door jingled, two pairs of footsteps tapping against the floor. You waited to hear what they would have to say, but what you heard made your heart stop for reasons other than fear.

“You should have known I would find out.”

Through bleary eyes, you glanced up, finding a reflective mirror in the corner of the store. In front of the counter stood four men - four men you knew too well. Johnny and Jaehyun held guns at the owner - Dohyeon - while Mark stood behind the man with familiar red hair. You wanted to cry and sob, but you couldn’t. You were appalled to find Taeyong there, staring down Dohyeon with his own gun.

“You knew those drugs were mine. You were supposed to sell them for us. But no. You had to go and doublecross us and sell the stock to Stray Kids? What kind of profit did you make off that.”

Dohyeon was quiet.

“Yeah, you know I’m fucking pissed. You know better than to cross me. But you did anyway!” Another shot fired, making you jump as a counter behind Dohyeon collapsed. “Now, you’re lucky I’m willing to give you one last chance. I could easily kill you here and now, but you haven’t done us wrong until now. 

“But, it won’t come free. I want you to hand over all of the cash you received from them, plus interest. And I expect the next time we give you something, you make sure to stay selling for us. Your cut will be reduced until you are back in good faith, but it’s better than being dead, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Dohyeon whispered bitterly. 

“You don’t sound very grateful,” Taeyong growled. “Would you prefer I just shoot you here and now? I can make that happen.”

“No, sir.”

“Good.” Mark threw a bag on the counter. “Put the money in the bag. All of it.”

You watched Dohyeon load the bag with money from under the counter, as well at the money from the register to satisfy Taeyong’s demands. The bag was zipped shut, Mark taking it from Dohyeon’s grasp. The owner sat back down, watching the four men.

“Think of this as a warning,” Taeyong sneered. “You agreed to this. You work for me and if I find out you are pulling some shady shit again, I will have you killed in the most gruesome way possible. No one fucks with NCT. Am I clear?”

“Yes…”

“I say am I clear?!”

“Yes sir!”

“Good. And if anyone asks what happened here, we were never here. Some kids vandalized you, or something of the sort. You’re a smart man. That’s obvious by trying to sell to Stray Kids, but not smart enough if you didn’t think you’d be caught.”

Taeyong made his way to the door, Mark in tow. Johnny and Jaehyun followed behind them both, never lowering the guns. Taeyong sent one last glance at the man behind the counter. 

“Pleasure doing business as always.”

When the door closed and the jingling stopped, you dropped your hand, feeling your entire body trembling. After a minute passed, and you were sure they had left, you stood on shaky legs, grabbing the bag from the ground. You stumbled out of the aisle, slipping in the pool of water on your way to the door. Dohyeon said nothing as he watched you slap money onto the counter and rush out the door. You ran down the street with bag in hand, disappearing into the sudden sea of people that flooded the previously vacant area.

Sitting at home awaiting his return was nerve wracking.  The second you got home, you threw yourself into another shower, collapsing to the floor and wailing loudly with sobs. The remainder of the afternoon was spent replaying what happened, and pondering how to confront Taeyong about what you had witnessed. You watched the time tick on, curling into yourself with a blanket on the couch.

Taeyong walked through the door with a smile, dropping his keys on the table by the door, kicking off his shoes and stripping off his red jacket. “Baby, I’m home,” he called happily, making his way into the living room. He expected to find you cooking or watching tv, but let his smile fade when he noticed the silence and you curled up on the couch staring at nothing. “Babe?”

You didn’t respond, worrying the red-haired man. He rushed forward, taking a seat at your feet. His hand ran along your blanket covered leg, pausing when he felt you flinch. Taeyong frowned, tilting his head at you. “Y/N, what’s going on? Are you ok?”

“I saw you…”

“What?” he questioned. “What are you talking about?”

You finally looked up at him. He could immediately tell you had been crying from your red and swollen eyes. “Tell me honestly - what is your job?”

“I…” he started, but stopped, turning away.

“I saw you at the little corner store you took me too and we always shop at.”

He stayed silent.

“Taeyong, I want the truth.”

“I think you already figured it out,” he rasped bitterly before sighing. “If you want out now, I won’t blame you. I won’t hold it against you. And I will make sure that no one comes after you for it as long as you remain quiet about what you know.

“But I… I have lied to you many times. And I’m not proud of that. I honestly should have never dragged you into this, but I couldn’t help myself. I have lied about many things, but I have never lied about my feelings for you. I love you with all my heart, Y/N, and I will do anything to keep you safe.

“But I understand that I have made mistakes by keeping this from you. I never wanted you to be involved, but I should have seen this coming one day. And I’m sorry.”

His gaze was on the floor as he talked, but shot up when your cold hand took his, lacing your fingers together. He stared at you, nervously holding his breath. “I don’t like that you lied about this. That you kept this from me for so long.”

“I know…”

“But, I’m also in too deep,” you murmured. Taeyong gave your hand a squeeze. “I fell in love with you the day I met you and I’ve only gotten deeper since then. I… I don’t want to leave you. I love you too much to leave you.”

“You know I live a dangerous life, right?”

“Yeah, I figured that out,” you told him. “But, we are in this together. I will support you and help you where I can. We’ll just be partners in crime.”

Taeyong bit his lip, running a hand through his red hair until the strands were tousled and sticking up in random directions. “Are you sure you want to get involved in this? I don’t want you to feel pressured to join this lifestyle because of me.”

“I’m sure,” came your meek voice. The man could tell you were scared of the answer, of the path you were agreeing to, but the solid grip on his hand and the fire behind your blown orbs gave him your resolve. “I want to stay by your side. I will help you no matter what.”

“Partners in crime, eh?” he chuckled weakly, smiling weakly at your own giggle in return. 

“Yeah. Partners in crime. If you go down, I go down with you. I’m not leaving your side in this. I know I may not seem like the best candidate for this, but I am a quick learner for whatever you need. Train me for whatever you think you need me for. 

“But going forward, you can’t keep things like this from me. If you want to make this work - to make us work - we need to have this trust. If you are as serious about us as you say you are, and I know you are because I have felt your love and passion, then we need to be open. Which means no lies, no deceit, and most of all, standing by each other’s decisions. We are partners in life, in death, and now, in crime I guess.” 

You paused briefly to let out a breath, watching the man nod at your words. “I won’t deny that I am scared of what I am agreeing to, but I will do what I have to because I want to be with you. Until death do us part.”

Taeyong didn’t say anything. The leader silently crawled onto the couch with you, your body shifting slightly so he could nestle himself between you and the back cushions. His head rested on your breast, one arm looped loosely around your waist. Your hand ran through his ruffled locks, feeling his tense form starting to relax at the soothing motion. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was scared too - not for the work he did, but for your inevitable involvement. 

“I love you. So much…”

His voice was low and muffled, but his words were clear.

“I love you too…”

It made you wonder how a man as soft as the one curled into your side was when you were alone could be so ruthless. You heard him that day threaten the owner of the store, and the thought alone still sent shivers up your spine. But it was just another thing you were going to accept about the mysterious man. 

You were serious when you said to death do you part. You were determined to stand by his side in every situation. He loved you and you loved him. Even though he was a dangerous man, you knew you couldn’t escape.

He had your heart in his hand after all.

Hours later, long after the sun had set and the clock struck midnight, you sat on the same couch, listening to Taeyong pace around behind you. After your confrontation upon his return home, you prepared dinner and had an emotional discussion about everything. He revealed everything to you in that time, laying his life on the table before you. 

He led a small mafia group called NCT. They were one group under a larger organization, and their group controlled the area you lived in. There were twenty-one boys in their unit, breaking into smaller units to manage their territory. Taeyong mentioned there were rival groups that tended to do business in their area, but for the most part, they didn’t clash too much. 

Taeyong, though he led all of the boys in the building, worked mostly with the eight other boys you had spent so much of your time with. The other two groups, Dream and WayV, had members who lead them when Taeyong couldn’t. The building they lived in was owned by their organization. 

And as he spilled everything, including his background and how he got involved coming out of high school, everything seemed to click more given everything you had been through with him since you met. Yet, it didn’t change your feelings for him. It just solidified his trust in you and his desire to have you in his life. 

Now ame the hard part.

“What’s going on boss?” a loud voice chimed as the front door opened widely, eight chipper boys filing through the entryway quickly, led by Mark. “Did something happen with that weapons… call…”

Mark’s voice faded away when the group saw you sitting on the couch and their leader anxiously walking back and forth, his thumb nail in his mouth as he nibbled at it. All of the boys gaped at the sight, unprepared for your presence. Mark seemed the most uncomfortable, seeing as he was about to talk business, assuming that was what they were being called for given the cryptic message they had received that simply said “we have something to discuss. It’s important.”

“Y/N…” Mark stuttered out, panic laced in his voice. “I didn’t know you were here…”

“She lives here,” Yuta pointed out lowly, only to receive a jab in his side from Mark’s elbow.

“Well, just ignore whatever I was saying! It wa a joke really-”

“It’s fine,” Taeyong said, cutting the young boy off. He stopped pacing to face the group, still biting at his nail. “She knows.”

The boys stared at their leader for a minute before bursting into a loud mixture of questions and concerns. Taeyong stared blankly at them until he got fed up with their loud noise, motioning them to silence. The room grew quiet in an instant, all eight of the boys finding places to eat to listen to what Taeyong had to say. 

“She saw us earlier today when we went to handle Dohyeon. She knows who we are and what we do. We’ve already talked about it,” Taeyong muttered.

You stayed silent, waiting for someone to react. But the last thing you expected was Jaehyun, your trusted workout buddy, to stand from his seat across from you and point a gun at your forehead. His eyes narrowed on your form, your stare on him unwavering. Deep inside, you were quaking with fear. You barely registered the remaining boys behind him yelling at him to stand down.

The leader wasn’t having this action. Taeyong was swift to react himself, grabbing a gun he kept in a drawer near the couch and aiming it at Jaehyun. Taeyong’s glare at his friend was sharp, eyes darker than normal. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, gritting his teeth to keep from snapping completely. “Stand down, Jae.”

“She knows, Taeyong,” Jaehyun retorted, never moving his gaze to his leader. “What’s to stop her from spilling this to the cops? What’s to stop her from leaving when we least expect it and turning us in? We aren’t the good guys here, and now your little girlfriend knows our secret. I knew this wasn’t a good idea when you started bringing her here. It was only a matter of time. So now, we need to make sure she isn’t going to turn.”

“Jaehyun-”

“I don’t plan to sell you out,” you spoke up, cutting off Taeyong. “If I did, I wouldn’t have come back here and confronted Taeyong about this.”

“So? That means nothing. You could be gathering evidence to bring to the cops-”

“I love Taeyong,” you cut in. “I wouldn’t do that to him, and I wouldn’t do that to you guys. You guys are my friends. We have spent so much time together and I love you guys to death.”

“How can I trust you?” Jaehyun snapped.

“You’ll just have to,” you told him.

“Put the gun down, Jae,” Taeyong told him, watching the man slowly lower the weapon and return to his seat. His own gun was placed aside, placing his hands on your shoulders instead. “We’ve talked about this all night. It hasn’t been easy. But you guys know I love Y/N to death. I don’t want to lose her. And her saying she is willing to accept this part of me, this part of us, means everything to me. I don’t want to lose her.

“So, after talking about it, I’ve agreed to let her join us. She said she wants to help us. But, we wanted to get your guys’ approval for her to join as well. We are a team and I can’t decide this on my own.”

You placed a hand on his that was on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know you guys may be concerned, but I promise you that I am here to help. I don’t want to sell anyone out or see anyone get hurt. I just want to be with Taeyong and all of you.” You paused, feeling Taeyong lean down to kiss the top of your head. “Taeyong and I are partners. I love him with all my heart and I will stand by his side until death do us part. Now, we’ll just be partners in crime too.”

The room grew quiet again, your stomach bubbling with nerves. You weren’t sure what their response would be, or what would happen if they decided you didn’t belong. You feared you would be forced to leave the man you loved because of his occupation.

“So, till death do you part? Does that mean you guys are going to get married finally?” Jungwoo chimed happily, eyes sparkling. “I’ve been waiting for Taeyong to propose for so long. Can I be the flower boy?”

“You’re not even the youngest!” Haechan growled, Jungwoo giving him a smug smile.

“But I’m cuter!”

“Hey, no fighting!” Doyoung scolded the two boys. “They didn’t say anything about marriage yet!”

“We all know it’s coming,” Yuta chuckled, watching your cheeks instantly flush a bright red. You turned to Taeyong, flustered. Taeyong shrugged with an obvious smile.

“They aren’t wrong. One day, you will be mine. But, I plan to propose to you properly.”

“Taeyong!” you screamed, swatting at him. Everyone laughed, Jaehyun excluded. As everyone quieted down, Taeyong spoke back up.

“By a show of hands, how many of you are in favor or letting Y/N join? Before you decide, please know that we will need to train her in what we do.” His eyes turned to Jaehyun for a moment before continuing. “On a count of three. One… two… three…”

Four hands shot up instantly - Mark, Jungwoo, Haechan and Yuta. three hands were slow to follow - Taeil, Doyoung and Johnny. Everyone turned to Jaehyun, who had yet to decide. The man stared deeply at you, mouth in a tight line.

“If she joins, I am in charge of training,” his cold voice cut in. “I don’t trust her in this situation and if things turn south, I will not hesitate to end this deal.” 

You shivered at his words, but glanced up at Taeyong, giving him a nod. Taeyong sighed.

“Fine, but just know that if you turn around and kill her, I will kill you.”

“Deal,” Jaehyun said before raising his hand.

Taeyong smiled slightly before nodding. “That’s it. With everyone’s consent,” he hummed, moving to sit beside you. He kissed your cheek swiftly, your face heating. “Welcome to NCT, Y/N.”

You smiled, bowing to the boys. “Thank you for having me.”

“This is going to be interesting,” Mark hummed, everyone agreeing.

You knew he wasn’t wrong. 

~

If you ever thought you’d be good at something in life, it wasn’t your skill with fighting or with a gun. It wasn’t your natural ability to be intimidating on command. Maybe you thought you’d be good at sewing, or maybe drawing beautiful scenary on paper. 

But no. 

Under Jaehyun’s watchful eye, the glint from the darkness as he watched you punch at a dummy in the weight room before pushing it back completely despite being twice your size, or when your eyes narrowed on a target, the sudden jolt of the gun in your hands leading to a bulls eyes through the forehead of your paper victim, you had managed to fit right now with the mafia boys you had come to love. 

Jaehyun, naturally, still had minor suspicions of you, even after months of one-on-one training to get you in tip top shape to be a member. But, the day you managed to take him down in a spar, leaving you giddy with delight before hopping around the room ecstatically, he started to lay off on his threats to end you so willingly. When you hadn’t spilled the truth to anyone, even when your former boss asked why you were quitting so suddenly, he felt a bit more at ease. When you took training seriously, showing up early and staying extra late to master what he was trying to teach, pushing through pain to continue, he would smile just a bit at your determination.

Taeyong couldn’t have been more proud. He had told you that on many occasions. When he would pop in to assess your progress, he never found a second to be unimpressed. You had grown strong in your time with Jaehyun, making you a force to be reckoned with.

And he couldn’t lie when he said it wasn’t attractive. 

There were the days when he would join in on your hand-to-hand training, after Jaehyun was willing to allow his boss to intervene. There were days he would be in the gun range on the ground floor, hidden deep in the back in a soundproof room, where we would watch you fire shot after shot without missing your mark, sometimes joining for a small competition. He never lost, but you didn’t make it easy when he would get distracted by your beauty.

In those days, Jaehyun would dismiss himself early, trusting his boss and friend in case something were to happen. And he was right - in a sense. Those were the days you found yourself getting frisky with your lover, moaning loudly while he thrust into your wet core. He’d have you pressed against a mat in the training room, or sitting atop the table in the gun range where you’d place your unused weapons, pounding you like an animal in heat, leaving searing hot kisses along your face and throat. You’d have to clean up afterwards, but it was worth it to be with Taeyong in that way; night time was never the best for intimacy when you were both exhausted. 

Part of you was glad that no one ever walked in when you had those moments, but part of you was also convinced that Jaehyun knew what would happen when you were left alone together, and he would warn the others not to disturb you. 

He was cold, but you knew he meant well. 

When you awoke one morning nearly six months into your newfound profession, you found Taeyong dressed in a black turtleneck and tan trench coat, loose blue jeans hugging his slim waist, and his bright red locks slicked back the way he did when he meant business, you knew he was on a job that day. 

“I want to join,” you meekly voiced, catching him off guard. The man whipped around to face you, adjusting his necklaces.

“You’re worn out, baby. And this is a pretty big job today. I don’t want you to get involved,” he voiced, biting at his lower lip. “This jewelry store owner that we leant money to so he could start up his business hasn’t paid, but he’s not a pushover. I don’t want you there in case things turn ugly.”

“I’ll be fine, Yong,” you hushed him, slinging yourself from the bed and rushing to the closet. Taeyong pouted, following after you.

“Babe-”

“No, don’t start,” you huffed at him. “You’ve only sent me on small jobs. I’m ready for something more, Taeyong.”

“I know, but-”

“But nothing!” you yelled. When Taeyong recoiled slightly, you sighed. “I’m sorry, Yongie. But I think I’m ready. I agreed to do this, to join you guys. So, let me do my job. I can help. And if things go sour, I can handle myself. I’m almost as good of a marksman as you. I can sometimes take down Jaehyun in a fight and he’s not an easy target. Yes, I’m tired because of yesterday’s training, but I’m not too tired to go help you with this. So, please-”

He cut you off with a kiss, his plump lips sealing yours. Your body instantly melted into his, wrapping your arms around his torso. His hands were clasped to your hips, tugging you closer. When he pulled away, finding your eyes closed and lips puckered, he chuckled. 

“Shut up and get dressed. We don’t have all day.”

You were left alone, a silent cheer leaving your body before rushing to find an outfit. In a matter of minutes, you were bouncing into the living room, pulling on a loose blouse to go with the tight black jeans. Taeyong’s eyes followed after you from the breakfast bar, licking his lips.

“Do you plan to seduce someone?” he chirped cheekily. “Because I must say, it’s working.”

“Shut up,” you scowled at him, trying to hide the blush and smile on your face while trekking to the front door. You picked up a pair of sleek heels - ones that Taeyong gifted you one day - and turned to the red haired man, giving a sultry wink. “Now, shall we get going, big boy? We have a job to do.”

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this. You’re gonna be the death of me before we ever get to the store.”

You giggled, pulling on your shoes and slipping out the door. Taeyong closely followed, taking your hand on the way to the elevator and to the garage. Johnny and Mark were waiting, as per usual for things like this, but the look of surprise on their faces when they saw you at their boss’ side made you chuckle. They didn’t question, Johnny simply opening the door so you and Taeyong could slide into the back. The tall man took his place at the wheel, Mark bouncing in the passenger seat as the car rolled from its spot onto the crowded street.

On the drive, you were briefed more in depth about what was going on. Mark, who was busy loading ammo into an arsenal of guns, passed two back, Taeyong tucking one into his jeans and handing you the other. Your heart pounded, looking down at the gun in your hand. It felt heavy in your grip. Despite the training, and the few things you had done for Taeyong, you had not actually used the weapon on someone. Would today be the day? You couldn’t say, but something in your gut said today wouldn’t be a good day. Bile rose in your throat at the worrisome feeling that lingered inside.

The street was near desolate when you arrived, the four of you sliding out of the car and approaching the jewelry store. No one was inside when you entered, a small bell ringing upon your entrance. The store owner, an older man named Youngjae, sitting behind the counter turned his head up with a smile that quickly vanished when he realized who had entered. Taeyong approached him confidently, you and Mark on his tail. The young blonde boy carried a large duffle bag in his left hand. Johnny guarded the door, flipping the sign to closed, securing the lock, and pulling down the sun visor so people couldn’t see what was happening so clearly. 

“Time to pay up, Youngjae,” Taeyong spoke clearly, skipping the theatrics and jumping straight to the point. Youngjae’s gaze on the young mafia leader didn’t falter, his lips sealed in a tight line. “Are you deaf? You’re lucky we waited until now to come collect. You are nearly six months overdue on that loan for this shop. And from what I’ve heard, you’ve been doing rather well for yourself.”

Taeyong walked around the store, picking up some necklaces on display that had diamonds that shone brightly, trailing some fingers along the sapphire bracelets, and finally stopping at the engagement rings. He picked one up that had a square cut diamond in the center, two smaller ones adorning either side of it. He seemed to hum in approval, grabbing a velvet box from a stand and turning to Mark. 

“Pack up some of the jewelry. We can use it as part of the payment.” Youngjae went to move when the younger male moved to collect from open stands, Taeyong quick to pull his weapon on the man. The older gentleman rose both hands, stilling in his movements, his stoic face unchanged. “Don’t even think about it.”

When Mark finished collecting what he deemed most valuable, he placed the bag in front of Youngjae. “Money,” the boy spoke.

When he didn’t move, Taeyong’s eyes narrowed. “You heard him,” the boss sneered angrily, narrowing his eyes. “All of the money in your safe deposit under the counter - I know it’s there because we installed it - and in your register. We’ll take that for now. If you continue to avoid payment, we will come back for the bank account. Sound fair?”

Youngjae continued to stay unmoving.

In a flash, you pulled out your own gun, clicking the safety off and aiming directly at his forehead. Your eyes were dark, making the older man visibly swallow. You were mildly thankful for your quick makeup job, making you somewhat more intimidating than your normal soft exterior. 

“I won’t say it again,” you huffed. “Put the money in the bag, or I will shoot you. I don’t have time to play this game with you, so if you value your life, i suggest you do what you’ve been told, pay up when you need to, and move on with your life. You made a deal with the devil for this, so it’s time to pay up. What do you say, sweetie?”

Youngjae silently nodded, opening the register and pulling handfuls of bills out. He followed by kneeling down on the floor to unlock the safe deposit box, pulling out more wads of bills that were all placed into the duffle bag. When he was finished, he backed away slowly, hands still in the air.

“That’s what I thought,” you smiled eerily, nodding at Mark to grab the bag. Taeyong smirked at himself, waving at Johnny to unlock the door. Mark left first, Johnny following to bring the car forward. “Pleasure doing business sweetheart. Don’t let this happen again.”

Blowing in a quick kiss, you made your way to the door, heels clicking and hips swaying. Taeyong followed after you, keeping an eye on the owner before slipping out of the door. You both piled back into the car, the vehicle quick to disappear down the road.

But what you had both missed in that moment was Youngjae pressing the small panic button on the underside of his countertop. His eyes traveled to the small tv on the side of his counter that showed security footage of the car you had gotten into, the man narrowing on the license plate. When his phone rang, police on the other line, he picked up.

“I’ve just been robbed by the mafia. I have their plate number. It’s…”

The events went unbeknownst to you on your way back to the penthouse, Taeyong’s hand on your thigh. He placed a kiss to your ear, nipping it lightly. “That was hot,” he whispered. “I never thought I’d be so turned on hearing you talk like that.”

“Is that so?” you hummed, turning to face him. His eyes were dark and lustful, making you wiggle in your seat. His lips curled up, giving a toothy grin.

“Guys, take care of the goods,” he voiced when Johnny pulled into the garage. You were nearly yanked from the car before it could come to a complete stop, Taeyong lifting you into his arms and carrying you away. Mark and Johnny watched you squeal loudly, cringing when they saw Taeyong smack your backside on his way to the elevator.

“I didn’t need to see that,” Mark mumbled, Johnny nodding in agreement.

The moment you were pushed through the penthouse door, you were dropped onto the couch, shoes and blouse discarded immediately. Taeyong went to pounce on your, narrowly missing your escaping form into your shared bedroom. His huff of annoyance could be heard as you ran into the bathroom, pulling off your jeans and undergarments as you went. You disappeared into the glass shower before Taeyong could join you, starting the hot water up. 

Taeyong’s eyes narrowed on your now wet form, watching you make faces at him through the glass. Your form was bare and dripping, and adding that to the memory of early, he was twitching already. The tan coat had been discarded on the bed before he joined you in the bathroom, but he didn’t hesitate to shed the turtleneck and jeans as well. The door was shut, and the glass door was opened, the man appearing at your side.

Immediately, you were tugged into a searing kiss, your body melting into his grasp under the waterfall of droplets that cascaded down your forms. He didn’t bother to ask for permission, his tongue bypassing your lips to attack the inside of your mouth. His hands gripped harder to your hips, veins running along up his hands and along his arms. His head tilted to the side to press perfectly against you, his mouth molding into yours without issue.

He pulled away for air, the steam from the shower making it harder to breath. Taeyong eyes were darker than normal, lust slated within the brown orbs. His tongue passed over his swollen lips, tracing yours slightly from the close proximity, earning a small whimper from within your throat.

“You were wonderful out there today,” he hummed lowly, nipping at your skin until he reached your ear. “I wasn’t expecting you to jump in the way you did. And you way you handled everything?” He paused for a moment, his breath hot on your ear. “It was pretty fucking hot.”

His words made you shiver, a mewl of delight piercing the sound of falling water. Taeyong pushed back his now wet hair, biting at his lip. 

“I should reward you for it. How does that sound?”

You didn’t even respond. His face was simply tugged back to yours, eagerly kissing his plump lips once more. Your hands cupped his cheeks, taeyong pulling you taut against his body. His steps moved forward; yours moved back. You found yourself pressed against the chillingly cold wall of the shower, grimacing in the midst of the sloppy connection and arch your back away from the steely frost against your skin. It only pushed you further into the mafia boss’ needy body, feeling the heat that radiated from his skin.

His lips traveled from your ear, down your cheek and to your neck, attacking it with suckling kisses that left dark red blotches ebbed on your skin. Your hands on his cheeks slid up to his wet red locks, scratching at his scalp happily. Your body burned under his light touches, feeling his fingers ghosting along your arms to your chest, fondling your breasts for a moment before his lips replaced his diligent digits to suckle at the hardened nipples, finally sliding down between your soaked forms to to with your moist pussy. 

The combination of his long fingers alternating between circling your clit and prodding at your core, and his gentle cites and kisses to your sensitive mounds sent your head reeling back, loud moans unceremoniously filling the air. Taeyong’s wicked grin against your chest was obvious almost as much as his increased actions, speeding up rubbing at your nub and popping his lips against your chest when he would tug at the buds.  

“Yong,” you whimpered at him, squirming in his grasp. Your stomach churned with arousal and delight, the feeling of his fingers sliding into your tight core adding to the stars you were already feeling. The thrusts of the two digits made you body jolt, his hand quick and nimble. His thumb pressed to your clit as he moved, the man grinning at your face that was twisted with ecstasy. “Oh god, baby. Yes.”

“You like that?” he mused, kissing his way back up to your face. “Or, do you like my cock better?”

“At this point, anything,” you managed to get out, breath picking up the closer you got to your end. “I love you so much, Taeyong.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured, kissing you lightly. “I love you too, baby.”

He pulled his fingers back before you could finish, a whining groan escaping you. “You love me but you don’t let me finish? How dare you-”

In a flash, you were spun around, your eyes meeting the wall, barely able to make out the condensation dripping along the white porcelain. Your hands pressed to the surface to keep from falling over, fingers curling against it. The feeling stung against your palms, your hands cold in contrast to the wet wall heated from the water that rained around you. The heat of a body pressed against your back, searing kisses placed along your neck and shoulder, sent shivers along your spine. Strong but delicate hands roamed along your form, hips rutting against your backside slowly, before your right leg was hiked up swiftly. 

“Are you ready for me?” he whispered seductively into your ears, lips tracing along the shell delicately.

“Yes, please,” you mewled at him, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. “Please, Taeyong.”

The low hum heard amongst the shower left your mind blank, anticipation flooding your veins. The slow rut of his hips was agonizing, and it wasn’t until he finally slid into you with one swift thrust that you felt full. A loud moan left your lips, your forehead placed against the wall happily. His thrusts began quick, wasting no time with slamming himself into your tight center and shoving your body further against the wall. 

“Oh Tae,” you let out. The familiar curl of his grin against the side of your head was unmistakable at the sound you made. 

“God, you always feel so good,” he rasped lowly, jutting himself harder than before and grinding against you harshly. The deep grunt he let out was thrilling to hear. “How did I get so lucky with you?”

“I think it’s me that got lucky,” you managed to say through plants, jolting when he resumed his rapid thrusts. “I’m so lucky:”

Taeyong seemed to speed up from your broken words, his cock pistoning in and out of you swiftly. His hips clapped against your ass, your leg hiked up bits at a time that made the angle deeper and his cock hit spots that made you shake. Every push into you, he found that one spot that had you moaning his name pathetically, chanting it like a mantra. 

The water was beginning to go cold by the time you were convulsing from his thrusts, feeling his hand wrap around your throat the closer you got to your high. You begged him softly to let you cum, the man commanding you to wait until he was ready to fill you to the brim with his own milky essence. His lips trailed down your neck nipping at the skin with his teeth and giving a gentle squeeze that made your sight go white with a rainbow of stars for a moment. 

“Yong, please.”

“Hold on, baby,” he kept saying, gasping the more he did. His thrusts were growing sloppy and forced the longer he went, his grip on your body hardening. With his forehead on your shoulder, he managed to utter a quick, “I’m almost there,” before grunting loudly.

THe last of his thrusts were the hardest and deepest, his cock lingering inside your wet pussy as he released. His milky seed spilled into you in bursts of warmth, painting your inner walls in the creamy white substance. His release sent your own into a fit of spasms, your walls tightening and convulsing around his length. They hugged at his thick shaft, coating it in your release while milking his own. Taeyong’s movements slowed to a gentle rhythm, letting your two forms meld into one against the wall and your cum mixing together deep inside of you.

Fingers pressed against the side of your face, tilting your head to the side. Your hazy gaze landed on the deep brown irises of Taeyong, a warm smile on his lips. Slowly, he leaned forward, remaining buried deep inside of you as he pressed a firm and loving kiss to your lips, conveying every ounce of love he felt into the connection. The frozen droplets of water did nothing to you against the heat of your bodies and the smoldering kiss you shared. 

And as his lips dragged down against yours, you couldn’t help but to smile.

With your body dried and dressed in onee of Taeyong’s baggy, long-sleeved shirts and a pair of jeans, you walked into the living room, headed for the kitchen. As you opened the fridge to find something to make for dinner, two arms wrapped around your form, a giggle erupting from your lips. Taeyong snuggled into your neck, lifting you off your feet and kicking the fridge shut.

“Taeyong, no! I’m hungry!” you scowled through a laugh, flailing in the man’s arms. Your actions proved futile, Taeyong carrying you to the couch and falling on his back atop it, placing you on his lap. 

“I know. But I wanted to spend some more time with you,” he pouted, the look adorable in your opinion. His fingers played with the hem of the shirt you wore, dipping under it to trace his fingers along your side. “Have I ever mentioned how beautiful you are?”

“Maybe once or twice,” you joked, leaning forward to place a butterfly kiss to his nose. 

Taeyong sent you a shimmering smile, pulling you into a harder kiss. His tongue bypassed your lips instantly, the kiss growing hotter by the second. Your eyes slipped closed, your body eagerly rolling against his. A deep groan was muffled in his throat, hands pushing desperately at your shirt until your chest was exposed. That was the only time he broke the kiss - so he could attach his lips to your perk nipples, tongue flicking them happily.

“Tae,” you moaned loudly. 

You pushed against his chest to sit upright, rolling against him harder and faster. Your jeans pushed into your aching core, feeling his growing hard on through his own pair of black denim bottoms. His hands gripped at your chest, hooded eyes watching you grind against him. Your eyes slid shut, head falling back as his name left your mouth.

“Tae,” you whimpered, cracking open your eyes and turning to look at him. But your movements slowed, much to his dismay. The male under you whimpered and pushed up into you, eager to continue. “Taeyong, what is that?”

The mafia leader ceased his movements, propping himself up on his elbows and turning to follow your gaze. His brow creased at the flashing blue and red lights that reflected slightly on the window.

“The fuck?” he murmured, moving you from his lap and rushing to the window. “Why the fuck are the cops here?”

“The cops?” you whispered to yourself, eying the man you love. Before you could question him more, muffled gunshots could be heard through the building. 

Taeyong was quick to rush to the door, grabbing a gun on the way and sliding on his shoes. You jumped up after him, stumbling as you pulled on your own shoes and following after him. The noise in the hallway was louder than in the penthouse, screaming and shouting growing louder as your bounded down the stairwell. Exhaustion was setting in from the numerous stairs you rushed down, but neither of you stopped.

“Taeyong, wait!” you called at the man who refused to slow down. “Don’t rush in there! You could get hurt!”

Seething with anger, he didn’t listen, pushing open the door to the ground floor as soon as he hit the bottom step. You barely could register someone yelling Taeyong’s name and a shot being fired before he was stumbling back, a hand on his shoulder. 

“Fuck!” he yelled out in pain, pulling his hand back to see the crimson blood coating his fingers. 

“Baby, are you alright?” you asked, pulling him further from the door and seating him on the steps of the stairwell. Your own hand trembled, placed on his and feeling the blood slide between your fingers. “Shit, you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he grimaced, wincing while adjusting how he was sitting. 

“You’re far from, sir,” you told him, ripping off one of the sleeve of the shirt you wore and wrapping it around his arm. “This will help for now but…”

“It’s fine,” he said again. “We need to get out there and meet with the others. I saw them briefly when I opened the door.”

“But what if they shoot again?” you asked, your voice meek.

“I will protect you,” he said, letting out a deep breath before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Stay low and you’re going to go left. Jaehyun and Yuta are behind the reception desk.”

“Alright,” you let out. 

“Don’t worry. I will be right behind you.”

Nodding, you cracked open the door, crouching low. The flashing of the police vehicles was brighter when you entered the lobby, finding the once beautiful area destroyed. Dead bodies of the staff that were employed by the NCT mafia to man their building were laid in various areas of the room, blood pooling around their unfortunate bodies after being caught in the crossfire. Furniture was ridden with bullet holes, upholstery exposed, and tables and desks having their wood flaked and chipped. 

Jaehyun was quick to aid you, pulling you behind the front desk before helping Taeyong over. Yuta, Jungwoo and Mark were with him, heavily breathing and reloading their guns with the limited ammo they had. 

“What the hell is going on?” Taeyong snarled at no one in particular. 

“The cops, obviously,” Yuta cheekily joked, his laughter ceased with Taeyong’s glare.

“Obviously,” came the leader’s retort. “Did the police say anything?”

“No,” Mark told him, leaning against the desk. “I can only assume we were ratted out after what happened earlier.”

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Taeyong yelled. “Shit!”

“Yong, calm down,” you told him, taking his shaking hand. This seemed to calm him slightly.

“Where is everyone else?”

“Already sent off to the escape tunnels,” Jungwoo mumbled, eyes darting to a wall to the right. Taeyong had told you of the secret passage for escape in case of emergencies. “We told them that we would hold them off so they could get to the cars and escape.”

Taeyong nodded, running a hand through his red locks. His mouth opened, only to be silenced by the squeal of a microphone outside.

“This is the Seoul Police. We have the place surrounded. Come out with your hands up, or we will be forced to fire!”

The boys seemed adamant on fighting, telling you to stay down as they opened fire at the door and windows, the police firing back with each shot. The ring of the shots made your head hurt, your hands cupping your ears in an attempt to shield them. Your eyes squeezed closed, curling in on yourself and only hoping that a stray shot didn’t hit anyone. 

When the firing came to a stop, and the boys ducked down, thankfully unharmed, they were all cursing. Jaehyun pushed at the desk, dropping his now empty gun.

“We’re fucked,” he growled, ruffling his dark locks. 

“No,” Taeyong said firmly. “You guys go and escape. I will keep them distracted.”

“What, no-” Yuta began to protest, but Taeyong shook his head.

“I’m your leader. I swore to protect you all. I will go down fighting for my family.”

Yuta, Jungwoo, Mark and Jaehyun nodded, Marking peering around the desk. “We have a chance now. They aren’t looking in that way. If we can make it to the passage, we’re fine.”

“Good, then go,” Taeyong ordered, turning to look at you. “You need to go with them.”

“No,” you firmly said. 

“That wasn’t an offer, Y/N,” Taeyong huffed. “Please, I need you to go. I need you to be safe-”

“I know it wasn’t an offer. I know what you’re thinking, but my answer is still no. I told you a long time ago when I learned what you do that I would be by your side until the end. I will be by your side until death do us part. I’m not leaving you to handle this on your own, Lee Taeyong. If you go down, I’m going with you.”

“Y/N,” he started, glancing at the others. They all held looks of concern, but chose to say nothing when their leader nodded hesitantly. The four men gave you a soft look before they darted for the passageway, the wall sliding open and closed quickly, their forms gone.

Taeyong sighed, leaning his back against the desk. He took the gun from his jeans that he grabbed on his way out of the penthouse, checking the ammo he had. “Not much left, eh?”

“Never thought this would be the end, did you?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Taeyong smiled for a second before becoming serious. 

“You should have left while you could…”

“You know that wasn’t a choice.” A hand slid into his.”We are partners in crime after all. If you go down, I’m going down with you. I will follow you to the ends of the earth, and I will never regret it.”

A small smile graced the man’s face, lacing his fingers with yours. With a reassuring squeeze and the click of his gun in his right hand, he glanced to his side. 

“I honestly knew this day was going to come eventually. I knew I would go down one way or another,,” he rasped, tucking the gun once more into the back of his jeans. His eyes locked on yours before continuing, “But I’m glad that I have you by my side.”

You smiled at him before placing a tender kiss to his lips, your free hand carefully placed on his bandaged shoulder. His eyes closed, relishing in the feeling and taste of your lips on his. The screams from outside the building fell on deaf ears. The threats made went unheard. In those ten seconds, it was just the both of you, embraced by the calm emotions shared between your forms. Silent tears slid down your cheeks from fear and sadness, knowing your impending fate, but he wiped them away gently after pulling away. His lips dragged down yours as he backed away solemnly, wishing this wouldn’t be the end.

“I love you,” he mumbled just loud enough to be heard. 

“I love you too,” you repeated, taking his hand and preparing to stand and face the gallows of red and blue lights flashing through broken windows and bent blinds. “I always will, Taeyong.”

Together you stood, lifting your hands as you walked towards the door. You spied the barrel of guns aimed at you as you stopped at the door, staring down the cops. Their words fell deaf on your ears waiting for Taeyong to pull the gun and proceed with his last hurrah. Your heart was pounding, hands clammy.

This was the end. 

Just as Taeyong reached for his gun, smoke filled the area, shouts and screams and shots firing around the blinded area. Taeyong gripped your hand, tugging you back into the lobby of the building. He rushed towards the secret passage holding your hand tightly. As the wall slid open, he turned back to the doorway, spotting a figure in dark blue with a gas mask on watching them. You turned to follow his gaze, spotting the figure gesture before disappearing into the smoke.

“Who was that?” you asked quietly.

Taeyong pushed against the small of your back to force you into the passage, the wall sliding shut behind him. “Heechul.”

“Who’s that?”

“Our older brother mafia,” Taeyong hummed, smiling giddily. “Super Junior.”

“They came to our rescue?”

“Yeah,” the leader mumbled. “The others must have called them as soon as it was safe.”

“Well, I’m glad then…”

Taeyong chuckled, pulling you into a hug despite the pain he felt in his injured arm. His face nestled into your hair, a low sob escaping his throat. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“We’re both safe.”

“Well, not yet I guess,” Taeyong said. “We need to go. Now.”

“Alright…”

Taeyong took your hand once more, the two of you running down the darkened hall, hoping that nothing would find you at the end.

~

You hummed a song softly, staring out a crack in the window at the barren road in front of the motel. Your fingers ran soothingly through the dyed black locks of your lover, who was curled up in your lap. Turning to look down at him, your own dyed locks fell against your cheeks, ticking his nose. A smile grew on his face, eyes remaining closed. 

You had taken refuge in a small motel far from the city, waiting for things to die down. The boys were scattered and in hiding, just like yourselves. Disposable phones were the only way to keep in contact to make sure everyone was safe still. There was no telling how long you were to live like this, but you didn’t mind it. 

“Y/N,” Taeyong sang, finally opening his chocolate colored orbs to look up at you. “I love you.”

He took your hand that was previously resting on his chest into his, playing  with the square cut diamond ring you wore. It was the same one he took from the shop that day. A few days after your escape, after Taeyong had been patched up for his injury by the Super Junior mafia and everyone separated for protection, going into hiding, he pulled out the box from his jeans pocket. 

“I was going to propose with this that night. I had everything planned - a nice dinner, a big speech, and a night to make love to you - but it all got fucked up. I would understand if you didn’t want to be with me,” he had said while laying in bed, fiddling with the box. 

“You’re stupid if you think after all of this that I would say no and leave you. Till death do we part, remember?”

You happily wore the ring still, never once taking it off since he slid it on your finger. It wasn’t your ideal proposal, but you weren’t going to argue if it meant you got to be with him. Watching him fiddle with it now, a grin on his soft, handsome features, left your heart fluttering. 

“I love you too, Lee Taeyong,” you hummed. “And remember, I will always be by your side.”

“Partners until the end?” He asked. You smiled leaning down to kiss him softly.

“Naturally.”

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

WIP Wednesday

Untitled Fic (Correspondence) 

Summary/Story So Far: HotchReid, slow burn, AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at CalTech. Hotch gets an email from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together - until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. 

They have been dating for some time now, and while they had evolved from written correspondence to phone conversations, they still haven’t crossed those last few barriers. They still haven’t met. They still don’t know what they look like. But at this point it doesn’t matter, because they are already in love. They know they will meet, one day, and that's enough. But then the next step in their relationship is taken right out of their hands... once again, thanks to a case.

Official Posting Date: 04/03/2021

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (NSFW) (Part 5)

(Set in season 6/7, unbeta’d, first draft)

(sometimes I’m worried I’m giving too much of the good stuff away, but I’m also just too excited about it so here you go. Big milestone scene, or half of one anyway. Don’t worry about timelines yet, this takes place about halfway through the fic. It’s going to be a LONG story. This is a very, VERY rough draft just fyi)

-

The day Spencer sees Hotch the first time, is a complete accident.

He walks into the CalTech physics labs for his students, expecting to do the usual Monday rounds of checking on projects and thesis statements and arguments prepared for the Ph.D. board of directors -- and instead finds all of his doctorate students gathered around the projector screen where the news is being played twelve feet high.

“What’s going on?” 

“There was another terrorist bombing in Dallas this morning,” Kimmy Li, his direct office assistant and teacher’s aide, tells him. Sitting cross-legged on top of her desk and holding tea that looks like it’s stone cold now. “They brought in homeland security and the FBI, and it’s all over national news now.”

“That’s where you’re from, isn’t it?” he asks, gentle and wary. When she nods worriedly, he leans against her desk with her and looks to the screen where the news reporter is summarizing the attacks once more. 

Hotch is probably there. If they called in the FBI. He pulls out his phone to text him, ask him when he’s landing in Dallas, when Kimmy nudges his arm with her elbow and points to the screen. “Isn’t that your friend?”

He looks up and sure enough, there’s JJ. Her long blonde hair straight and professional, looking sharp in a dark brown pant suit and standing in front of about a dozen different outlet microphones. Her words are clear and concise, explaining a prepared press release he’s sure she wrote out in its entirety just on the flight from Quantico. Behind her is the Dallas police chief, and a few more agents all looking stern and very professional as well. He can only see an intimidating, dark-haired woman, a bald African-American man, and someone who he’s fairly certain is David Rossi. 

“Yep, that’s JJ.”

“And is that David Rossi?”

“JJ is going to be doing a lot of explaining the next time we chat on the phone,” he says with a slight smirk. He didn’t even know the man was out of retirement, nor that he was now working with his long time friend. Spencer didn’t like to pry at her about her work or her team. She’d been bounced all over the past year or two, stolen by the pentagon and the State Department, only to be snatched right back by the FBI once more. He didn’t even know anything about her team, and hadn’t bothered to ask --

If he had, he would have asked her if she worked with Hotch a long time ago. But the BAU itself had grown exponentially the past few years. They had multiple teams all over the country, now, and more than one stationed in Quantico at the FBI federal headquarters. The odds were slim to none. 

“We ask everyone here in the metropolitan area to remain vigilant, this team is very organized and we believe them to be a home-grown terrorist group. These kinds of groups blur racial and socio-economic lines. It could be anyone. We ask people to stay in their homes, avoid crowded areas, and to divert all traffic around the city instead of through it.”

“She looks good,” Kimmy smiles, a little red in her cheeks.

“She’s taken,” he stage-whispers to her. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“All the good ones are,” Kimmy mumbles, just as JJ looks to her left off screen.

“We will take questions in just a moment, but first our Unit Chief has a few words for the press and the group we are trying to find.” She steps aside, giving a small quirk of her mouth (not a smile, not after everyone that has died today) and makes room for a broad-shouldered, black haired man in a polished professional suit to take the podium. Smoothing his tie, mouth set in a thin line in his stern, authoritative face. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark lashes, the man commanded authority, and even Kimmy (who was gayer than a maypole) made a hum of appreciation. 

Spencer smirked and couldn’t help but agree. Unfortunately, he was also taken.

Then, the man begins to speak.

“My name is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, and I’m addressing the leader of the terrorist group that attacked the Capitol building this morning.” 

Spencer’s stomach drops to his shoes.

His mouth parts on a sharp, pained gasp. 

And his ears ring like an air raid siren, but it doesn’t drown out the deep, familiar tones of the man on the screen. 

The man who had whispered huskily into his ear two nights ago, who had wished him good morning last week when he’d just gotten back from a Florida case, who had told Spencer he loved him exactly nineteen days ago and rocked his world to his core.

Now Spencer was staring him in the face, twelve feet high, on a projector screen in front of all his students, and if he hadn’t been leaning against Kimmy’s desk he knows he would have fallen over. 

Hotch.

“We have your demands. We know what you want. And you’re not getting them.” 

There’s a collective gasp around the lab, and Spencer feels his jaw tighten because this was either a ploy that was going to try and draw the unsubs out into the open, or part of the demand to get the public against the FBI presence. Risky, either way, and he swallows hard as he listens to Hotch lay down the fucking law. Back straight, head high, unblinking and not showing an inch of emotion on his face.

And it’s so… very hot.

And he’s so… extremely handsome. 

Spencer is fucked.

He watches the whole press conference, scared to blink and miss one millisecond, soaks up every word and facial tick and nuance he knows by heart in Hotch’s voice. But now he has facial expressions, dark eyes and a strong jaw, to match to it. 

“Are you okay, Dr. Reid?” Kimmy asks him, when he finally blinks and realizes his eyes sting from staring so hard, and she looks distraught at her hometown being targeted so viciously. He should be comforting her, not the other way around.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine, I just… I know that team. Not just JJ. Could you,” he pauses, and can’t believe the words that are about to come out of his mouth. “Would you mind finding me a copy of that press conference and emailing it to me? I have some phone calls to make this morning, but I need to watch it again.” 

Kimmy stares at him. Because Spencer never needs to rewatch or reread anything. He has an eidetic memory. 

But he doesn’t explain himself, just awaits an answer and gives her a grimace of a smile when she nods still a little stunned. “Thanks, Kimmy. Let me know if you need anything.” And with an awkward pat on her shoulder, he bee-lines straight for his office and sits behind his desk. Head in his hands. Hotch’s eyes burned into his memory. His voice and his mouth and his jaw and his…everything. 

He still has a half typed message in the text box. And he can’t even bring himself to complete it.

(tbc...)

[skelanonymous]

Song Prompt 2

I basically took this as “think on your mistakes, go forward, it’ll be okay”

@a-weird-tree

Words:4.2k

Song(s): It’s Alright - Mother Mother/Panic Room - Au/ra

Skeleton: Nightmare

-

“I’m here if you need me.” 

Nightmare wished the last words he’d heard didn’t have to be from Dream, even if it made a lot of poetic sense considering the task he was on.

The ashen landscape hadn’t changed in the millenia he’d been gone. Nothing different from the day he left, only a statue no longer standing by her side, even the grass dead and non-growing. Time had left this place, following his brother in its frozen state, though the life of this place hadn’t been returned like it had to Dream.

So many bodies. The lack of time had halted the rot, blood stained dirt muddy and thick near his sneakers. The gentle pull from his soul made him sigh before standing up straight to walk into the mass of buildings off east of the hill.

Walking over the uneven cobblestone (made by hand by an older stonesmith who’d been teaching his son at the time), his eye slid over the multiple empty homes. Shops with goods still lining the shelves, broken glass shattered across the wooden floorboards, countertops in disarray from the frantic fleeing they’d attempted, it fell on his chest like an anvil, breath stolen. He pushed past it to step around behind the counter.

He’d only needed to browse for a moment before finding what he was looking for. He grabbed it with his hands, gathering some provisions in a bag before heading back out to his new home.

From the top of the hill, the field expanded westward for a mile uninterrupted. That’s where he’d have to start.

With a blank face, he forced the shovel into the dirt and hauled out the first of many piles. He couldn’t do a full six feet with his hands, but three would give them rest. No animal could dig them out, all had long since gone, so that’d have to be enough.

The shovel was clumsy in his grasp. His hands ached with the work of it before even the first grave had been dug, not used to ignoring his tentacles, where his strength and power were most potent, but no. They had been laid low by his corruption. If he was to find any sense of recompense in the act, it had to be his own two hands by which he sent them to peace.

Shovelful by shovelful, the dirt to the side grew larger than the hole until the first was done. 

The first was going to be the hardest to get here.

When the idea had first occurred, it’d been before the truce. He had too much to do, his own corruption as valuable an ally in his fight as any of the others, perhaps moreso. Too much was left to fight for that required its defense.

He had brushed the idea aside completely until the truce had been first drafted. But the truce was fresh, easily broken with a word. Animosity did not dissolve within a fortnight, nor did camaraderie grow, even under the promise of fresh sunlight and clean water. He couldn’t send his best soldier home when war could break out at any second. As weary as it made him, he had carried this longer than he had existed at this point, five times more spent in this shadow than under the shade of his mother. The memories were faded and grey at the edges. He could live without them.

Days to weeks, months to years, all of his company had learned to move on. He’d held none back from their progress. The peace in their eyes made his own ache, but he wished them the best. The last had been Dust, his the hardest to truly relieve. Time truly could heal all wounds.

“I think I’m gunna go to Horror’s timeline...Now that’s the shortage is over, it’s pretty quiet there.” Dust had shuffled in the main hall. He looked so uncomfortable, Nightmare trying to pull his own aura back into himself.

“And Horror is there.” Nightmare took a step back, gesturing to the door with a kind bow. “You’ll do well with him. You suit each other.”

Dust blushed purple, eyelights flicking around, before resettling on Nightmare with sorrow in the lines of his face.

“You could come too.” He looked him in the face, desperate. “Being alone isn’t good for people bo-Nightmare.” Dust fiddled with his sleeves.

“I would impede your progress Dust. My part in your life has come to a conclusion, and I am at peace with that.” Nightmare hoped the smile was reassuring. Dust had fought against the psychosis, no sanity came as hard fought as Dust’s, he deserved the rest.  “I have always survived, you don’t have to worry about me.” 

“They ask me about you all the time, you know.” He inched closer to the door. A compromise. 

“And I ask you about them. We spent a long time together.” Nightmare hadn’t seen any of them since they left the castle. He knew his aura was poison to their progress, an ever present reminder of all they tried to move forward from. He missed them more than he could say. “But even now, you can’t help but call me boss. You have fewer nightmares when you sleep in other timelines. You can’t be here, and I can’t go there with you.”

“We would give up all our progress if it meant seeing you not stay here alone for the rest of your life.” Dust’s eyes watered. “We all wanted you to make it out of here. Being the last means that I failed too.”

“You didn’t fail.” Night wanted so badly to reassure him, but he was negativity, his touch would rob the little strength he had to leave. “I don’t know if I can be saved.”  The truth hurt to say. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. How does one unlearn all that you are?”

“You don’t have enough faith in yourself. Please.” Dust had held out his hand, the other on the door.

Nightmare knew if he reached out, Dust would turn to him and try to save him from himself. But no. Night pulled his hands to his chest.

“Go. He’s waiting for you.” Dust had left with a slammed door.

Then silence. 

Silence for months, nothing but dust and books for friends. He’d kept to his castle, afraid of even glancing at them from portals, of bringing as much misfortune as he had to wherever he touched.

The idea had come back to him on the anniversary of Dust’s departure. He’d sent out a small summon to his brother, who’d come the instant he’d been called, fearing the worst.

“Brother?!”

“I’m right here Dream. I’m not in peril.” He looked up from his book, seated on a bench. Nightmare took to reading in the courtyard most days. He’d gotten through every book once before, this was one of his favorites to reread. “Though I’m thankful for your haste if I was.”

“I mean, yeah! No one’s heard from you in a while. I was starting to think…”Dream shook his head. “So what do you need? Anything I can do to help.” He held out his golden glove to Night. He had taken it so hesitantly, his brother the only person who he couldn’t affect but unused to contact after so long.

“I have things to show you.”

He’d brought him through the castle. He led him to every magical artifact, the secret chambers that hid anything placed within them, and a copy of the key to his treasured library. His entire legacy, every tool, things that could not be replaced.

“I think that’s everything. I’m entrusting this knowledge to you Dream. It felt important you know. The others deserve to not be called upon.”

“I agree but why would I need to call them? It’s your castle. I can just ask you.” Dream looked him over with worried eyes. “Right?” Nightmare sighed.

“No.” He held up a hand before Dream could yell. “I am going to be away from the castle. I do not know for how long.”

“Doing what?! Because telling me about ALL of this means this is a long trip!” Night could see all of Blue’s influence in him, almost professionally assessing him to see what they could work through. He was eternally grateful to Blue for his services but not for the inquisition he’d face for this decision.

“It most likely will be very long.” Nightmare didn’t elaborate.

“What are you planning?” Dream grabbed his shoulders, full brotherly concern on display. Night smiled at him. Dream panicked harder. “Nightmare, please don’t do anything drastic. Everyone really cares about you.” Night chuckled but it didn’t reach his tired eyes.

“Unfortunately, drastic is the only way I know.” He flicked Dream on his crown, nose scrunched up with the twang. “I don’t plan on dying in some corner of the world. I’m not a wounded animal.” Nightmare held the trembling hands in front of him. “I just need to go find something.”

“Well let’s go look toge-”

“Alone.”

“Nightmare.” He pleaded with his eyes. “You’ve been alone for so long already. Who was the last person you saw besides me?”

“Dust.” He didn’t shy away from the shock.

“That was a YEAR ago.” Dream pulled him towards the nearest door. “You just need to-”

“Dream.” He’d never felt so tired. It’d been many moons since he’d pulled this card, he only hoped his brother would understand. “Daydream, please.”

The fight drained from Dream in an instant. His eyes softened to tears, so much younger in that moment than Nightmare had seen since he’d awoken from that statue. Nightmare wiped a few away, meeting his eyes with renewed effort, resigned but ready.

“I need this. You’re the only one I can trust with the multiverse. I need you to carry it for both of us. I’m sorry to set it upon your shoulders.”

And Dream, the kind person he was, didn’t hesitate.

“I can handle it Nighty.” He pulled him into a hug. “So you keep looking until you find what you need to. I’ve got stuff handled here, and plenty of help if I get a little overwhelmed. Just...come back.” He’d waved Nightmare off into his portal with a smile.

“I’m here if you need me.”

The first body was the last. She’d been young, the last child, protected at the expense of the adults around her at every turn. He couldn’t even recall her name now. He found her in the forest, picking up her broken body as carefully as he feasibly could using only his arms. He started the sad march towards the hole.

He laid her in the earth with dignity. He cleaned off her face, finding a dropped toy nearby that felt familiar when he saw it, which he tucked into her arms.

Nightmare reflected on her death.

“The last of those bastards. Any last words?!” She’d only screamed. He cut her down painfully, multiple stabs with sharpened corruption, watching her bleed out to satisfy his own need for vengeance, served a hundred times over before this last death. His body fought his revulsion but he let the feeling flow. He’d been despicable.

A flash of memory from that night. It was gone before he could catch it.

He waited another few moments before taking up the shovel again. He covered her as quietly as he’d dug the grave, slow painful work on his hands that he trudged forward through. After the last bit of dirt had settled, he found a stone and placed it at the head.

Then he walked to the right and started again.

Nightmare managed three graves by the time he could not continue. He’d gotten the two people he’d felled just before the girl. He grieved each, laying them to rest, stumbling and pained, but he wanted to do this the right way.

When he could no longer continue, he pulled an apple from the provisions he’d grabbed.

He put it back.

Nightmare made his home by the tree, laying by her stump. He’d spent so many nights here, but the stars didn’t jog his memory at all. Nothing remained of before, none of what mattered to him. His mother was dead, Dream off running the multiverse, he himself changed, what could he even recognize?

He didn’t recall drifting off, though the nightmares that played across his mind meant he had to have slept. 

Night grabbed a bit of bread, looked up at the unchanging sky, and got to work again.

For weeks, the same pattern: wake, eat, lay the villagers to rest, consider the apple, sleep restlessly. Night’s corruption claimed his mind first, and many lives after. He owed them all the proper burial they’d been denied for centuries now.

Each dream got more vivid. The first taste of corruption, the first few to fall, turning Dream to stone, it got clearer each day. It wasn’t doing wonders to his sanity. Part of him wondered if this was the best chance of recovery, or of losing it completely and killing either the multiverse or himself. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he’d walk to the river in the forest.

The sound of running water was louder than his thoughts in the silence of the universe. He walked along it with his hands in his pockets and would imagine the castle.

Who accompanied him changed each day. Killer smiled but often made jokes at his expense or that of the dead. Dust’s hallucination acted as his own, egging him on to find more to kill. Horror’s mentioned the feast lying around, endlessly held edible by the lack of passing time. 

Error only visited once, his silence drowning out the brook. Nightmare left early and didn’t finish a single grave.

On a particularly productive day (he’d gotten through five), Dream accompanied him, and that’s when he remembered something from long ago. His voice complained, but he still knew the words.

The old folk song travelled across the world. The villagers had taught them at first, but Nightmare had sung Dream to sleep so much, he looked into so many more songs. He serenaded his phantom Dream from his small walk and slept peacefully for a single night.

The next day, his voice acted on its own.

He hummed while digging. He sang to the dead as he moved them, as an eulogy after their entombment, and went back to humming when he filled them and moved to the next. The silence of the world invited many demons, the lilt of a song brought back warmth of the past he’d long since lost. He remembered telling the others he didn’t sing; whether it was a lie or he truly forgot, he didn’t know.

The amount of graves was starting to stretch out far from the tree stump. He’d been at this for months, and now, the dead left numbered in double digits.

As he reached the last thirty, he leaned back onto the tall stump and realized nothing had blocked him. His unused tentacles had unformed, not needed and no longer reflex. Night breathed a sigh of relief up at the steady sky. Maybe he had a chance after all.

That night, when he considered the apple, he managed to put it up to his mouth. Not bite into, but it was progress, like so much else.

The second to last day ended as usual at first. He’d begun to sing songs he’d heard in other universes, voice strong from use. His hands had gotten so much better at holding the metal handle. His arms had regained strength, and bit by bit, the color was finally starting to leak back into the sky. This universe was healing. It had waited for him to return.

He only had one grave left. The village elder, the first to fall, the leader of the attacks against him. Night had never known his name besides Elder. 

His vengeance should’ve started and ended with him. 

No, that wasn’t the way to think anymore. Night had become what they feared, even if it was at their insistence, and a restless afterlife and the death of all his kin falling on him was punishment enough. He dug into the earth, humming the village tune, when the phantom heckled from behind.

“How dare you sing our song when you forsook us, monster.” Nightmare didn’t rise to the bait. He was not so lost as to not know reality from his own manifestations of guilt.

“Your brother was always the better one. I bet you killed him too.” Purposefully wrong, trying to pull him into this argument, he kept digging. Nightmare knew better than he did then. Young Nightmare had risen to many challenges he needn't be bothered with, but age brings wisdom, his past self having no ability to act out of the script he’d been forced to follow. He finished the grave with a wipe of his forehead.

“What do you think this does? Do you think this makes up for what you took? Our lives are not returned with this worthless ceremony.”

“Nothing will make up for what I took. I can only hope to be better going forward and to give back all that I am able.” Nightmare moved the body, staring directly at the ground, avoiding the phantom’s glares. “This place can move forward, and maybe then I can begin to.”

“As long as you are a monster, your mind will never leave this place, beast.”

“On that, we agree.” Nightmare bowed to his grave before beginning to fill it, the final task of his penance here. “But it can’t be killed easily.” The elder’s phantom considered him, before speaking carefully.

“Things borne of ourselves are the hardest to kill. We often choose to remove outside influences over those within.” Nightmare was struck with the memory of attending the elder’s many sermons. He had been a teacher as well, often giving lessons to the population for free. “But I can see its vice grip on you has loosened. What have you brought to kill it?”

“Nothing but myself and an apple.”

“Then I pray it is enough.” Nightmare finished the grave, dropping the shovel down for the last time.

“Me too.” 

The final headstone set down, he turned towards the tree stump.

Nightmare did nothing in half measures. He’d come prepared to die here if he needed to. So much of the night of the corruption was lost to the sludge, memory melted away by the power, only the spark of his brother’s positivity clear as a direct opposition to his own. But this corruption was magic, and all magic had a counter, an equal and opposite. Much of spellcraft found counters in the reverse, but how does one reverse something as horrifying as that night?

It was crude, but he tried. Night had said goodbye to Dream. He buried the villagers in reverse of the order he’d killed them. Now, he reached into the bag.

One crisp apple. It only took one to be lost.

He took it with trembling hands. It was so easy to raise to his teeth, almost calling for him to bite into the succulent skin. He closed his eye and bit down.

The corruption was acrid in his mouth. It tasted of the poison it was, but its darker temptation of power had made him bite into it again, and again, and again, until nothing remained. Anything to stop the judgement, the finger pointing, the thrown rocks, never having a place except by Dream’s side, and Dream had so many places he could fit effortlessly.

His eye flicked up to his brother, standing just under the tree, full of now blackened apples, his mouth full of the sludge he’d become, a pang of sadness at the horror on Dream’s face.

“Remember me as I was.” Then he’d grabbed the second. By the sixth, the tentacles had come alive on his back, ready to maim that which came to attack, but when he turned around, he was back in the dead world alone. His mind still pulsed with the event as if he’d lived it only a moment ago, and he couldn’t waste this opportunity.

“RAHHHHHH!” His vision blurred on the grass, tentacles furious digging a hole where no bodies lay. His body felt full, stuffed with corruption like a balloon, singeing his nerves from everything that ran black, pouring from his face directly into the hole that now was the right size. With a moment of clarity, he shoved his fingers down his throat.

He wretched endlessly, thick black corruption pouring out of him in heaves, unable to catch his breath while it left his body. It pooled and filled the hole. So much corruption, in such excess of all the magic in Nightmare’s body, his arms shook trying to hold him up. His soul burned raw, so much being torn from his entire being that it threatened to destabilize. He collapsed on his side, still spewing the poison until he passed out, unable to continue.

-

He came to gasping. His hands leapt to his throat instantly to soothe the burn. It stung, but looking forward, there was no liquid in the hole he’d collapsed beside, though what was inside was worse.

One black apple, unassuming in the otherwise empty hole. Night almost didn’t touch it.

When he reached for it, his eyes caught his hand. Pure ivory, matching the ivory arm, visible with both of his eyes.

He was free.

That aided his hand. He grabbed the apple, unafraid. Nightmare would not make the same mistake twice.

A glance around revealed more color than he’d remember seeing in ages. Flecks of green among the grass, the sky bright with a sun he hadn’t seen in eons, and a breeze of wind from time returning after so long gone. The world freed from stone could move forward, and now so could he.

His first order of business was clothes, his own ruined many times over by now. His corruption had held the poor things together, but sleeping on rocks hadn’t been kind to the soft hoodie. 

Picking through the village felt less somber now. These items would wear away with time, and he could use them. He grabbed some boots, loose pants, a purple tunic, and a worn leather bag to wear over his shoulder. Inside, a few provisions, the black apple, and a few books for his collection amongst the village, he had refused to set foot here before now.

Where to go now? He was free from his corruption, but not from himself. Nightmare himself was still an entire project he’d have to work at.

Though with his corruption lifted, it felt invigorating to have a fate of his own again.

First order of business was probably Dream. He’d left him alone for a long time, though the strange flow of time had made him lose track of exactly how much. He pulled on his magic to generate a portal.

“Fuck!” He’d reset himself back to the start. Of course he had little to work with. He’d have to ask Dream for a lift home when he got there. After a quick straightening of his back, he stepped through to wherever Dream was. He’d pulled on their connection to form the portal instead of picking a place. He walked down some sort of hallway he didn’t recognize, reaching the end of it to turn towards the noise.

Lots of eyes on him, he’d walked into a party. Probably Blue’s based on the amount and varying universes of the guests. He waved awkwardly.

“Um, hi.” He heard something shatter.

“Nightmare?” From the crowd, his brother squeezed out, bolting straight for him. Nightmare held his arms open and braced for impact.

“Yes Dream.” He managed to stay standing at his brother’s hug, but only just. He squeezed him hard enough to crack his back. “Be careful, you’re the more powerful one now.”

“I don’t care about that!” He clung to him and sobbed openly, which was really soaking up Night’s tunic, but he owed him this, rubbing his back through the tears. “I was so w-worrieeeeeed!”

“Well now you can stop worrying.” Nightmare chuckled at his over emotional brother. Then he felt the hand on his back.

“Is that really you boss?” Horror’s deep baritone reverberated down through his hand, shaking Night’s more fragile form. He mentally forgave Dream’s reaction when he turned to look at him. His hand rose to rest on Horror’s cheek, tracing under his chin to get a good look at him as he used to. His own eyes watered for the first time in decades.

“You look so well Horror. I’m...so happy...to see you.” He cried through it, holding him tight to feel the now sturdy bones underneath. He missed his boys so much. He didn’t even flinch at the sudden touch to his back, hearing Dust’s soft murmurs.

“We’re happy to see you too Nightmare.”

His soul, full of this feeling of reunion and relief, let loose tension it no longer had to hold. The future held much trial and tribulation, but it held equal amounts of moments like this, bonding and joy over simple celebrations.

Nothing but his own future.

[babycharmander]

Things I have learned in my 20+ years of writing fanfic

I’d been thinking about this for a while and figured I’d compile a list, in case other people find it helpful. Keep in mind that what I say here is only my own experiences and tastes and I’ve no intentions of telling you how to write your own stories. So uhhh... let’s go!

1) Different stories require different planning methods. When I was younger, I used to think that I had to use the exact same method for planning each of my stories. Strict outlines on everything! Except... that's not how writing works. Stories are like wild beasts--you can try to tame them, certainly, but as each one is an individual, it may require different methods. Or you may discover that the stories that come to you are ones you can all write in the same way!

But for me personally, I find it best to plan out stories in different ways depending on which one seems to work at the time. One story may require a strict outline, while another may need a very loose roadmap. Other times I can fly from the seat of my pants and finish a story that way, or even use things readers have brought up to help me figure out parts of my story. The point is, don't try to confine yourself to one method of planning. Do what suits your story.

2) When working on a longfic, look for ways to include other characters. This one doesn't apply to every fandom or fic situation (for example, if there's only two main characters in your fandom, or if your characters have a very very very good reason to be isolated), but it's honestly a little bit of a pet peeve of mine when it comes to other stories, though I was guilty of it too when I was younger. I remember writing fics in fandoms where you'd have a large group of characters, but... the fic would only focus on two or three of them. They seemed to exist in a bubble, where no one else outside of that bubble really reacted to what was going on, even if there was no reason why they SHOULDN'T react to this.

For example, say you're working on a longfic for a fandom where there's a group of 5-10 characters (maybe a family, a neighborhood, a team, whatever). In this fic, character A nearly dies, leaving character B devastated at their terrible state and doing everything in their power to take care of A. And then... the rest of the characters don't really do anything, or just avoid the situation for no apparent reason. Once again, it feels like the whole story is taking place in a bubble. I totally get that sometimes you want to just focus on A and B's relationship, but consider how you approach this sort of thing for a longfic. Why not look for ways to include the others?

I'm not saying that means the entire story has to focus on all of those characters if your main intention is to focus on the relationship between A and B. But look for ways to include the others in the group/team/family/neighborhood/town/whatever--show how they're reacting to the situation or what they're actively doing to help or hinder it. Even if you only show one or two scenes per character, it burst the "bubble" effect of your longfic and makes the story richer and the world fuller. Heck, you may even find that you actually enjoy writing those other characters more than you initially thought. Give it a try!

3) In longfics, have specific details in your story that you can potentially bring back later. I'm not entirely sure how to explain this one, but... give your story specific details. Stuff like characters briefly talking about an event from the past, or a character having an item in their possession, or a character happening to know another, or just... anything. Obviously don't fill your stories with unnecessary detail, but sprinkle interesting, specific things in there every so often. You don't have to linger on them or hang a bright flashing arrow next to them to tell the reader "LOOK AT THIS!!!" In fact, you don't even have to come back to them later.

So... why am I telling you to do this?

Because sometimes those specific details will surprise you.

Sometimes you'll be writing part of your story, and then get stuck, and go back and reread something... and then you'll run across one of those details, and it will be the answer to your problem. Sometimes readers will pick up on those details, and voice their own thoughts on them, which might give you an idea for a plot point to bring up later. Sometimes those details wind up being the link between two plot points that you couldn't figure out how to tie together.

Even if they don't wind up doing any of those things, they can just be something to add more life to your story, and make it more memorable for your readers.

4) If your source material has voice acting, keep videos/sound files featuring characters' voices handy. Something I've found that helps me get into a character's head and voice is to just listen to them. In video game fandoms, you're likely to find videos that consist of a character's entire library of voice lines. For show/movie/podcast fandoms, you can of course find videos or sound files in which the characters are talking. If I'm about to write a character for the first time, I'll listen to them talk for a while before I start writing them. Other times, if I'm not certain a line of dialogue sounds like something the character would say, I'll listen to some of their canon dialogue for a bit in order to "refresh" their voice in my head, and see if I can clearly hear them saying the line I wrote.

Sometimes if I'm writing quickly and don't want to stop to listen to their lines, I'll add in a phrase they usually say to the dialogue I'm currently writing--that way I can immediately hear the way they say it in my head, and that will carry to the rest of the dialogue. 

In general, it's just a useful thing for making sure you're getting a character's voice right. (Plus, listening to the dialogue is fun just by itself!)

5) Before posting a longfic, make ABSOLUTELY sure you want to finish it. So, I've written... a lot of longfics. And as a kid, I had a problem where I would get this FANTASTIC IDEA for a longfic, and I would immediately start writing, and immediately start posting, because feedback! Excitement! Gratification! ... and then a few days later I would lose interest and move on to something else. Oops.

When I was in my late teens/early twenties, I decided that sort of behavior wouldn't do, so for a while I would not start posting fics until the entire rough draft of them was complete, and then I would post one chapter a week. And while that worked for a while, it, uh... could only last for so long, because my stories kept getting longer and longer and man you can only go so long writing on your own without really, really wanting some of that sweet sweet feedback.

So... I figured out a compromise.

I would start my longfics. Maybe write out the first few chapters, or write out the notes, however I decided to do it. For some, I would determine that the longfic would be "short" enough that I could finish it before any excitement I had for it burned out. For all the others, I would continue to write them without posting for a while, seeing how long they kept my interest, and maybe show them to some friends. If I started to get really invested in it, then I would (attempt to) create a buffer of chapters, and start posting on a schedule. That schedule... did not always last, but by that point I was usually able to determine that yes, I absolutely did want to see this fic through to the end. Otherwise, the WIP would stay unfinished and unposted until the end of time.

Naturally most of my finished longfics are the epitome of self-indulgence, but hey, that's what fic is for, isn't it?

Speaking of...

6) Always remember that writing fic is FOR FUN. My previous point there? Completely disregard it if you are not having fun writing a story anymore. I've had fic series I started out with full plans to complete them, but after a few years, I lost steam, moved onto different fandoms, and really could not go back. But... that's okay. This is for fun. If I'm not having fun anymore, why should I push myself to keep writing?

Not to say that you should quit writing at the first sign of trouble! Wracking your mind trying to figure out the next part of the story isn't the same thing as losing all enjoyment writing it (unless it is). Usually once you figure out what to write next, you feel that much happier, and can keep going.

Regardless, never lose sight of what you're doing. Writing fanfiction is a hobby, and hobbies should be fun. If you're not having fun, move onto something else. Your readers may whine, but they'll get over it. Sometimes even the feedback isn't enough to keep you going, and that's okay. This is not your job (unless you're actually getting paid for it). This is a hobby. Write what you enjoy.

Well... that's all I've got for now. I may add more stuff to this list later as I remember other things. But there you have it! 

Again, you absolutely don't have to take any of my advice if you don't want to. There's no single right way to write a fanfic! Do what works for you. If you find this stuff helpful, I'm glad. If not, that's okay! Either way, good luck with wherever your pen or keyboard leads you, and have fun writing!

[andypantsx3]

hi there !! i hope you're doing well :) ever since i started reading ur fics i've just been really impressed with how u keep the quality of ur content very consistent. do u take breaks in between writing each fic? i think u mentioned this in a previous post when u talked about editing fics, but i guess i'm wondering how u keep urself from being burnt out/if u get burnt out! i'm going thru a slump rn so i'd be curious to hear about ur experience!

Omg thank you so much!! That is literally so sweet of you to say, much as I doubt the quality is all actually consistent—I'm looking at you, in cinders chapter two.🖕🖕🖕

Also please excuse how long this got, I have a lot of thoughts on this subject in particular!!

Personally yes, I do get burnt out, and I do find it very necessary to take breaks—from writing overall and from a fic if I'm having difficulties with it. In general, I try to write a little bit every day, but that’s not always possible, and there are times when that’s not the right thing to be doing.

If you were following me late last year, you may vaguely be aware that I disappeared for two months straight between December and February. Like, just let the queue run through and did not answer a single ask, post a single original thought, or even look at my ao3 comments. While I was gone I barely wrote a thing. I think at like 1.5 months into it, I started drafting the outline for subtle, but before that, I didn't do shit except focus on my personal life and hang out with my dog.

At that point I was just tired and I thought I could use a little recharging to get excited about writing again. I read a bunch of books and other people's fics, and reread a bunch of my old fave comfort ship fics. That break from my own work really helped me get inspired again. Since then I've been consciously trying to strike a balance between writing all the time and chilling/consuming the things that keep me inspired to write.

When it comes to taking a break from fics, I do that too. My Hawks fic lay low has been ongoing since December of last year, when I normally finish fics in under a month. I actually really love this fic, but I got a little frustrated with some plot holes and then again with the pressure I was putting on myself to characterize him (like, relax, Andie it's a fuckin fanfic) so that's been on hiatus like multiple times even though we're only three chapters in.

I think it was important, though, for me personally to take a step back from it until I had the energy to address the things that I wanted to, and until I was excited to write it again. I'm actually finally working on chapter 4 (!!!), but it really took a long time to let that bad boy marinate, and I hope the fic will be better for it.

And I did that with statistically significant as well. This was more due to my workload at my job at the time, and I worked on this one over the course of five months when prior to that, I had been finishing fics in 1-2 weeks. But slowing down and writing this fic over like ten times the amount of time it took me to write other fics was a really good learning experience for me. It taught me that it's totally fine to step away from a fic for multiple months, and that you can always come back and finish it later.

I think that's also going to be the case with the new Deku fic, and I'm happy I already know it's completely okay to take my time. I'm sure there will be new wrenches that life throws into my path, and I'll have to get hit by those and figure out how to get back up and learn to duck next time lol.

Anyway, I definitely get where you are coming from, and if I've learned anything in the year and a half I have been writing it’s that it's totally normal to hit slumps, be they long or short, fic-specific or related to writing overall. Burn-out/slumps are actually not a big deal at all if you don't psych yourself out about them.

I feel like every time I'm asked advice on anything I say this (but I mean it!!): listen to yourself. You know best what you need. If you don't feel like you have the brain power for writing right now?? You're definitely right, and you should take some time away to chill, just consume things without producing, or do other stuff in life that makes you feel good.

If you're two months into not writing and you get excited about a project outside of the one you abandoned?? There's probably a reason. Work on that instead, and maybe let your enthusiasm for that project remind you of what you liked about the other one you put down.

And if that enthusiasm doesn't return? Then let the damn thing sit until it does. There are literally writers I follow who stepped away from fics for YEARS, only to come back and post a new chapter like half a decade later. They are always, always better for it.

So literally just listen to what you are telling yourself, and ride out the slump however you need to. Please try your best not to feel guilty for it, or think that it is any reflection on you or your work. They're just a natural part of the process, and honestly you will be the better for having had this experience.

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

The Iowa Caucus Happened

A job offer slides into Rafael’s DMs as he waits to find out if it’ll be a new start or prison on February 8.

Accidental Feminist Icon

Delete the Twitter app, Mr. Barba

“Mister Barba?”

Rafael didn’t like hearing his name from the young woman behind him, especially not given what he’d done. He’d texted Carmen on the first day of the trial, and she’d agreed to look into the offers from attorneys he knew, and some he didn’t, while he sat beside Dworkin and emotionally prepared himself to testify. The ones he’d looked at the night before came from people he didn’t like or were last resorts. He’d moved from his visceral response to finding law to back his actions. Applying logic could let him detangle himself from his conflicted emotions. Catholic guilt wrestled his humanity. That said, he also found himself desperate to introduce Ollie to music as Carmen worked from his apartment that first afternoon, not caring for once as the toddler drooled or sneezed or spilled all over him.

“Yes?” he asked, taking his coffee from the cart. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“We haven’t. I follow you on Twitter.”

“Ah,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss-”

“Rachel Sullivan. I have, like, a reading Twitter.”

“I’ve seen that! Read with Rachel? Your icon is a copy of Howl?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, chuckling. “I just- listen, I know it’s bad what’s going on and a lot of people are really hurt and going after you. Do I get it? No. But, I think you didn’t get a good choice, and you did what’s right for you. When it seems impossible, it’s not my place to judge something I can’t fathom. And a lot of people feel the same. A bunch of us have a group chat and we hope everything goes well and you get to start again.”

It was a stark contrast to his interaction with mami or emails from church ladies. There was an acknowledgement of disagreement, but he needed more people to respect that they weren’t there like she did. He also remembered watching his father die, and while he didn’t like the man, he regretted not ending that pain. It only drew out hurt for everyone. 

“Thank you, Rachel. That really means the world to me.”

“Good luck today,” she said, giving him a wave when she took her coffee and left. By the end of the day, Rafael hated Peter Stone for being a damn good prosecutor, and he wondered if there were any cases he’d tried, especially the ones before SVU that he was wrong on. He made his way into a new bar, definitely not his usual during all of this, and he sat and drafted his resignation. It took longer than he cared to admit, and he restarted and reread it time and time again. By the time he was drunk, he’d written something he could proofread the next morning and ignored calls from Olivia, Carmen, and mami. 

He decided it was time to do what he had been dreading, logging into Twitter. Since Carmen had cleaned it up, more people had found him, and he was able to easily ignore anything hateful by skimming for murder or murderer in the body of the tweet. He skipped those, and Rafael was surprised to see some apathy, sympathy, or respect for his reasoning. Lazily, he scrolled his direct messages. A select few of the people who knew him contacted him with revulsion, but his filtered messages were filled with vitriol. He found Rachel’s account again, following her back and deciding he could break his unspoken rule of only following people he knew or the occasional blog/podcast/museum/celebrity. If anyone contacted him with kindness, he was now more open to the reciprocity of Twitter; no one would be asking him to prosecute their case soon.  

He saw a message from Tripp Greene. In Harvard, they’d had an unspoken alliance as the two scholarship kids in their cohort, a silent allegiance that continued into law school. There were very few people Rafael respected personally from Harvard, but Tripp had remained kind, even if he worked in something as ruthless as politics. They’d been reunited by Rafael’s uptick in Twitter popularity. He was more proud than he should be by the potential presidential candidates that had followed him. Rafael should have known Tripp would reach out; he was ever the silent cheerleader and had watched a sibling die on life support when he was at Harvard. They’d discussed the morality of pulling plugs and the selfish desire to keep people alive, though most of it had been Tripp talking and Rafael listening.

While moving to Iowa seemed extreme, he was acutely aware that he would end up haunting the DA’s office and Manhattan SVU like some ghost of ADAs past instead of moving forward. His mother had a boyfriend and looming retirement that seemed likely to take the pair to Miami, where she could play grandma to his grandchildren. There was nothing left for him here but Carmen, and while a great friend, she was not enough to erase the last twenty-one years of his life. When Carmen called for the fifth time that night, he ignored it, but it was quickly followed by Answer the phone or I tell Olivia I haven’t heard from you. With a groan, he answered when Carmen called again sixty seconds later.

“I’m fine. I don’t want to delve back into a play by play of my day.”

“That’s why you’re drunk at seven o’clock,” she said, her tone thick with sarcasm as she pretended that solved everything.

“It’s only been two hours?”

“You’re not at Forlini’s.”

“I’m not hanging out with Stone.”

“Send me your location. I just picked Ollie up from mom’s.”

“Take your son home, Carmen. I’ll be fine.”

“But we could talk about how much I also hate Stone. I’ll even stop and let you grab take out from that Cuban place you like.”

“Deal,” he acquiesced, motioning he wanted to close his tab. “Call me when you’re close.”

“Deal. ETA is about fifteen minutes.”

He polished off his scotch, signing the check and tipping well before taking his briefcase and leaning against the wall as he waited for Carmen’s SUV. She waved at him out the window, and he hurried into her passenger seat. Though he always knew that she was a great secretary and assistant, Carmen was proving to be the friend he needed right now. Olivia, in the few phone calls they had, was unwilling to discuss anything but the case. She was in cop mode, and she talked to him like she could swoop in and fix what he had done. While she thought he didn’t know, she’d talked to McCoy, talked to Stone, talked to anyone who would listen. But what she didn’t understand is that he’d accepted going to prison was a possibility, but it was one he felt was worth it.

“Barba!” he heard from the backseat, smiling softly to see Ollie more awake than he’d expected. He’d seen the boy periodically, mostly during evening handoffs when Carmen’s mother would drop him off so Carmen could take him home. There were a lot of single mothers in his life, and all were exceptional. The last few days, Carmen and Ollie both had spent a lot of time with him. He kept introducing Ollie to music and movies and foods like he could make up for everything Drew wouldn’t experience by making sure Ollie did.

“Oliver!” he smiled, twisting around to smile at him. The boy kicked his leg, and the blue stripe on the rubber of his sneakers lit up. “I like your shoes.”’

“Thanks,” he giggled, kicking again. 

“You’re good with him,” Carmen smiled, the navigation now leading her to get his take out. 

“He’s a good kid. Noah made me better with kids. Liv said I held him like a sack of flour at first.”

“You’ll be ready by the time you have your own.”

“I work too much.”

“That can change.”

“I don’t deserve to have a child,” he shrugged, and he could see Carmen purse her lips. “I don’t. I wouldn’t be good at it anyway. Wouldn’t be fair. Besides, I might end up like dad. No kid deserves that shit.”

“Bad word!” Ollie scolded, tablet in hand as he watched a movie.

“Sorry, Ollie. Stuff.”

“You’ve never told me what he did.”

“He wanted heterosexual, toxic machismo and got a swarmy, emotional bisexual.”

“You’re not that emotional.”

“He took care of that,” he said darkly. “I used to cry when he went after mami. That turned his attention to me.”

Carmen knew there was nothing she could say, so instead she silently took his hand, squeezing softly. He was taken aback at first, but he kept her hand loosely in his as his head lulled against the headrest. It was strangely grounding, the physical affection. He’d felt like he was swimming the last few days as memories of his father, his father’s death, his childhood, and each case he tried bubbled up. That wasn’t including the vision of baby drew and Maggie in the hospital room that lingered everywhere. 

The conflicting guilt and conviction he’d done the right thing also broke a damn and the feelings he’d suppressed- loneliness, guilt, abandonment, distrust- were all bubbling to the surface. He’d spent so much of his life trying not to process them so he could focus on a conviction rate and moving forward that he didn’t have the tools everyone else did sometimes. Right now, Carmen felt like an anchor, and he was grateful for her. 

He got out of the car when Carmen parked, ordering enough food for three adults, one take out container containing whatever he thought a toddler could handle. Soon enough, they were settled in his living room and eating, though Ollie had minimal interest in the pork, beans, and rice in front of him. The thought crossed his mind that when he took one of the out of state jobs, he wouldn’t have Carmen there like this. He was sure this friendship would be short lived; when he didn’t need her anymore, she’d leave him. That’s what usually happened, wasn’t it? She just felt bad for him.

“I’m moving to Iowa,” he blurted out before he was able to spiral into the self loathing he’d recently discovered.

“That’s far,” she said, and he thought he could detect sadness in her voice.

“There’s FaceTime.”

“Not quite the same, but I’ll take it.”

“Tripp understands,” he said, sobering up as the food hit his stomach. “He lost a sister. Watched someone dying like with my dad except she’d been born that way. It was years, Carmen.”

“That’s a lot. I’m going to miss you, Rafael. Ollie will too.”

“Come visit. If the tickets are bad, I’ll pay. Or cover renting a car.”

“You’re drunk,” she chuckled. 

“Sorry. Best friend. It’s the rules.”

“We’ll come. But I can afford tickets.” 

“Promise if it’ll make things tight, you’ll let me. You’re raising a kid. No kids means I can afford to get my friend the occasional plane ticket.”

“Deal.”

“Next week, will it be Des Moines or prison? Who knows! I’ll probably grow a beard either way. Think they’d recognize me in prison if I grow a beard?” 

“I’ve never seen you with a beard. Stop shaving and we’ll find out.”

She could see Rafael getting tired, head leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes. She preferred when he joked about all of this. They were stuck waiting, and this time the next night they’d probably know. Ollie climbed between them on the couch, and she realized her boss wasn’t the only one almost asleep. 

“You two can stay,” Rafael yawned, hand smoothing Ollie’s curls back. 

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll be nice not being alone in the morning. And you can stay here to work. We didn’t talk about it, but I know you hate Stone. He’s a good attorney. Doing his job.”

“His job is wrong.”

“That isn’t his fault. If another ADA had done what I did? I’d be prosecuting them.”

“Go get ready for bed,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. As she scooped Ollie up, she kissed the top of Rafael’s head. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Carmen?” She turned in the doorframe. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“I’m glad to, Raf. Promise you’ll actually sleep.”

“I promise.”

“Night, Barba,” Ollie yawned, waving over his mom’s shoulder as they entered his guest room. Maybe Iowa was going to be too far if he didn’t go to prison. He was getting quite fond of having Carmen around quite quickly. He wasn’t going to be her superior anymore, so this friendship could be something he maintained. 

Olivia would be a given; even if they were primarily united around work, she was also one of his closest friends and maybe not working together would make him relax. Hell, maybe the end of his life in the city would do it. Rafael couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t felt he was chasing an upward trajectory in New York City. Even at Harvard, the plan had been to return. Maybe coming into Des Moines established would let him feel comfortable just existing. 

He liked cooking and reading in the park and going out dancing on occasion. He rarely had time for two options, and the latter made his cheeks red with embarrassment at the prospect of a colleague seeing him during the outing. In Iowa, maybe he could go dancing and take up a new hobby and wear jeans without feeling like something was out of his control. 

He woke up before Carmen, excited to be able to cook for her. He appreciated the fact she was happy to help him, but she had paused her own life for the last few days. Their friendship was relegated to offices and dinners by the office. He’d come to her baby shower and birthday parties and even a holiday party, but that was it and that had other colleagues present. Except maybe the baby shower, but he was determined to buy up whatever was left on her registry when the day came, using mami, abuelita, and the older women at church as pseudonyms to pretend he’d just let family know. 

“You can cook?”

“I just never had time,” he shrugged, tray coming out of the oven.

“You made pastries?” 

“Pastelitos de guayaba.” Carmen didn’t miss how proud he looked as he admired them. They were something he’d always made with family. “They aren’t hard, but abuelita used to make them for me all the time. Puff pastry, sweetened cream cheese and guava paste. Cafe con leche on the way.”

“You couldn’t sleep?” He shook his head, pouring the espresso and adding the milk before placing mugs at the breakfast counter. His mouth was set in a line now, the corners sucked in as he focused on the countertop. Her hand rested on his, giving a squeeze and he rewarded her with a soft smile. “We’ll be helping you pack for Iowa in no time.”

“I hope,” he nodded, biting into a pastry. Ollie came out, eyeing the countertop. “Want one, Oliver?”

“What are they?”

“Delicious,” Carmen groaned, having torn into her own. That was enough for Ollie, who accepted a pastry from Rafael with a soft Thank you before biting into it carefully.

“Wow! It is good!”

“I’m glad you like it.”

It felt a somber affair, despite the pastries, when Carmen saw him off to court. She chose to wait in his apartment, ringer on high and news coverage on. Ollie was easily entertained by the toys she had in the car, and the phones were forwarded to be answerable on her cell phone. By the end of the day, she’d put dinner in his slow cooker and cleaned most everything at least once. And then her phone rang with his ringer. She’d picked one of the other presets for him long ago, and she watched Ollie with his blocks as she answered.

“Rafael?”

“Not guilty,” he exhaled, still unable to believe it as he surveyed his office to begin packing. Her desk was empty, and he didn’t mind today because if she had been here, McCoy would’ve had her helping Stone. Carmen was his assistant, his friend, and it was bad enough to know Stone would probably take his place at work.

“Thank God,” she whispered. “Did you turn the letter in?”

“I put it on Jack’s desk. I’m hoping to be gone buy his return. I think three heavy boxes will cover it. Plus anything I hung, but other than diplomas most of it came with the place.”

“I put dinner on. Ollie and I ran to the store and picked up short ribs and potatoes and carrots. I needed something to do.”

“Nervous you’d be visiting me in prison?”

“You know damn well juries can be swayed. You’ve done it.”

“And I’m safe. I’ll be there in a couple of hours, okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’m really glad you get to go to Iowa.”

[rockinlibrarian]

Fic Writer Review

@pixiedane tagged everyone on this, and considering I've been wallowing in my sudden Being Into Fanfic lately (though to be honest I've been READING a lot lately more than writing), see this link, I figured I'd take her up on the challenge. You, too, may take ME up on the challenge if YOU have been writing fic!

how many works do you have on AO3? 19. That's much less than @pixiedane! I'm a baby fic writer!

what’s your total AO3 word count? 66,239

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they? There are technically seven listed, but "Marvel Cinematic Universe," "The Avengers (Marvel Movies)," "Captain America (Movies)," and "Agent Carter (TV)" all apply to the same fic, so really just 4. But that doesn't count fandoms I've written but not completed (and therefore posted) for. So there are more to come. Maybe. Sometime.

what are your top 5 fics by kudos? *

"On the End of Endgame," 51 kudos, because I'm right and Marvel doesn't understand their own time travel rules and 51 people KNOW it!

"The Puppy-Fly Effect," 39 kudos, because it's Back to the Future, the most mainstream property I've written for! So people see it and say, "oh, I've actually seen that one" and they're more likely to read it!

"The Invitation: an Epilogue," 22 kudos, which is pretty good since this is my newest fic on there. It's a Howl's Moving Castle (BOOK, PLEASE, OBVIOUSLY) epilogue, so considering it's not a RECENT thing it just keeps getting slow and steady readership. I myself have been reading a lot of Howl fic lately, and people are getting comments on their decade-old stories from me now, so I imagine this one also will slow and steadily keep accumulating hits and kudos.

"Kerry and the Meaning of Life," 20 kudos. I'm honestly not sure why this is, by far, my most kudoed Legion FX fic. It's the first one I ever wrote, and got me started on the whole writing-the-entire-Loudermilk-coming-of-age rabbit hole I fell into to begin with, but I've only improved over time, I think, but even after I'd posted other Loudermilk backstory I think is objectively better, this one still gets the most!

"Syd's (Third) Childhood Begins," 15 kudos, because when people finish watching Legion FX the NATURAL move is to seek out fix-it fic. I wouldn't say this is fix-it really as much as ensure-the-ending-is-actually-happy-it, but I did use the "fix-it" tag, and at least one of the commenters DID say they immediately came on AO3 "looking for pretty much exactly this"...

do you respond to comments, why or why not? Absolutely, because I know what it feels like NOT to get comments, and also what it feels like to-- I don't know, I just get paranoid, if people don't respond to me, I think stuff like "Did I say something wrong? Do they not care about my opinion? Am I invisible?" so I'm Do Unto Others-y about it, even if all I can think of to say is "Thank you!"

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Well, I haven't actually posted (read: finished) the ending yet, but it's definitely "Exploration of the Astral Plane," because that's just Legion FX canon. No spoilers, Oliver Bird starts out the show having gotten lost decades ago, and this is the story of HOW he got lost, and his friends didn't KNOW if they'd ever see him again, so the paragraphs I've written of the end do make me quite teary! The fic's really fun despite the canonically sad ending, though, honest!

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written? I have not written one YET, if I recall, unless you count the several mildly interconnected IPs involved in the Pipeweed Mafia Stories, which isn't even posted because I feel uncomfortable posting Real People fic online, but crossovers are fun and I really enjoy reading them, especially when the writer successfully blends things together while being true to the characters. Just today I read a hilarious one blending The Good Place and Harry Potter!

have you ever received hate on a fic? Gosh, this is such an ironic question. I wouldn't say that I WISH I received hate on a fic, but my fics aren't even NOTICED enough to receive hate! I already feel paranoid-- Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, you know how it is-- when I don't receive LIKE on a fic! It's LIKE receiving hate for me, because my brain goes into "Does nobody like it? Does nobody care? Are they all too nice to say it's terrible?" mode, so, yeah.

do you write smut? if so what kind? Absolutely not. My demisexual self hates reading it, definitely not writing it. I struggled enough writing just a taste of what a horny, slutty teenager who-talks-too-much Oliver Bird would have been in this AU, and that's mild!

have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of. That would really suck, wouldn't it, if someone stole my work and ended up getting MORE LIKES AND COMMENTS THAN ME on it.

have you ever had a fic translated? Also not that I'm aware of, and if I'm not aware of it but it happened I guess that would answer the "stolen" question, too.

have you ever co-written a fic before? Ever in my entire life, I feel like I must have, but not anything I've posted online then

what’s your all time favorite ship? Hmm. Honestly, there are ships I defend passionately if the topic comes up, but I'm not sure I have a favorite just on my own. Especially as I hate smut, so I avoid seeking out specifically shipping stories. But, since I have been reading a lot of HMC fic lately, I should mention that Howl and Sophie ARE one of my absolute favorite fictional couples, but that's just how DWJ wrote them, and I can tell you unfortunately that not all fanfic writers QUITE nail that chemistry...

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Speaking of The Good Place, I really do wish I could write the novelization, and maybe I'd write some pieces of it longer than the few paragraphs I have written? But I doubt I ever will, let alone to the point of FINISHING...

what are your writing strengths? Fanfic wise, I like to THINK I understand the characters very well, at least! Writing in general? I think it's just my quirky voice? I'm the only me.

what are your writing weaknesses? Oh, very much FINISHING. But beyond that, it's pulling teeth to get me to fill out the story sometimes. I tend to draft with dialogue, and then I have to go back and fill in what's actually happening AROUND the dialogue, and sometimes I'd rather not.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? At first I was like, I don't KNOW any other languages well enough to do this! And then I remembered the Firefly fic I have mostly written but not completed yet, and you know how in the show their speech is peppered with random Mandarin phrases? My husband has the Firefly RPG book and there's an appendix of Mandarin phrases you might hear in the Firefly universe, and I DID incorporate a few of those phrases into my dialogue, just from that appendix and it's probably horrible, but it fit the universe...

what was the first fandom you wrote for? EVER? The earliest I'm sure about is the Ducktales fic I found in an old Girl Scout manual that I must have written when I was 11 or 12. The first fandom I ever posted on AO3, in response to an exchange, was Legion FX of course, but that wasn't until the ripe old age of 40.

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written? I'm going to give this one to "Two (or Three) Mutant Freaks Against the Fourth Grade" just because it has gotten the least number of hits of ANY of my posts, INCLUDING THE PLACEHOLDER WITH NO WORDS IN IT, so it needs more love. And it really is one of my favorites, because it's just a sweet little story about nerds making friends, and I love rereading it.

*This made me curious which fics got the most kudos comparative to their HITS, because the Endgame one has WHOA more hits than any other fic, but it's over a thousand, which doesn't make 51 kudos look so good anymore. Percentage-wise, it's less than 5%, which seems to be where most of my fics hit when you do the math-- between 4% and 8% kudos-to-hits. The exceptions, jumping up to about 18% each, are the BttF and HMC fics, and, curiously, my beloved childhood friend AU mentioned in the last question-- it may have the least number of HITS (22), but that helps the math when you consider it's got 4 kudos. The HIGHEST percentage kudos-to-hits is its sequel, the childhood-friends-as-teenagers-AU fic mentioned in question 5**-- it's got 6 kudos and only 29 hits, so that's about 20%! Apparently people LIKE when I have to write a sex-crazed adolescent boy. COME ON, people! (The story is actually about Asexuality so I guess it really isn't people just wishing I'd write smut).

**Oh, I just noticed the numbers renumbered themselves when I put bullet points in the middle of the original question 3 there, so this is actually the answer to question 8? But it SAYS FIVE.

[official-weasley]

You sure do write amazing! Can you please give me some tips on how to write better?

Thanks!

Hi!

First of all, thank you, it means a lot! 🥰

Second of all thank you for the ask. This is my first one so I hope I am doing this properly.

Third of all READ. I would say everything but it's too broad. Read what you're writing. If you're writing fanfic read those. I have learned so much from reading other stories. Also, try and find your own style...if you think it sounds hard it is. I needed years. I was always writing in third person POV and I always felt like something was missing. I find something magical in the fact that you can read a story from first person POV, because you feel like you get to know them better and that you are friends and build a relationship with a character.

I read a few books (Divergent trilogy among them) with first-person POV and I was hooked. It's okay to love someone's writing or their style but while reading them think of WHY you love their style so much and try to implement those characteristics into your writing. Don't worry about sounding similar to someone else. You won't. Each writer's style is unique and at first, it might seem like copying but you will soon develop your own style which will be your own. Copying is learning but do give credit where needed. Also, don't be afraid to experiment with different styles. Nothing you write is wrong. If you keep saying to yourself that your writing can't be right because nobody else is doing it, meaning it isn't following the rules it means you created something entirely yours and I think that is BEAUTIFUL and smart not wrong.

Try to think about what is the most important thing you want to point out in your story. To me, I don't like to read long descriptions of how people and places look like. To me, it's redundant because I have a crazy imagination and I love to create all of that for the characters myself and I like the liberty that I think how a character I am reading about looks like. Think about what is important to you when you write. To me, it's relationships between characters and I tend to focus on that the most.

When it comes to vocabulary I can't be of much help. I suck at it. I am not a native English speaker and finding synonyms or describing a gesture or how a character's expression looks like I struggle every time and it takes the most of my time to do that. It helps to have websites that can help you find these. I have a dictionary for words that I want to translate from my native language. And I have Google always opened to search for word definitions and I saw someone post a website here on Tumblr which has honestly been a lifesaver: onelook.com/thesaurus

Also, one thing that I have noticed helps me a lot is that I write without stopping as much as possible so that the story stays on the original idea line as much as it possibly can. So if you sit down to write a chapter, just do it...no distractions. Don't write a paragraph and go on your phone and then return. Stick to it, it will be better trust me: learn from my mistakes. (Of course, if you have a heavy, emotion-filled chapter like someone dying and you cry while writing...then please do take a break. I needed a week to write Chapter 6 and 7 of Part 8 of the story I am posting now because I was a crying mess and I simply couldn't break my heart more than I did per day). Then I read it and change what I want quickly. Then I run it through Grammarly then I reread it a few more times. Within these times I mark the words or paragraphs which should have different words for what I am describing or where I feel something is missing. I come back to those parts and try searching for different words or instances that can relate to what I have written down.

I also triple-check that I don't have words that repeat. So if I had said said said a few times I will skip it and indicate who is speaking with a gesture they do while saying something. That helps me a lot because I like to repeat words I like a lot!

One thing that I learned is that it doesn't matter how you write as long as you enjoy it. If you write a chapter and you read through it and it makes you smile you have won no matter how it looks in the first draft. Learning to love everything you write is so important and until I had that I thought that my writing sucks and I will never get anywhere.

And yes, I will say it: JUST WRITE MORE. I know it's the biggest cliché but it's true. Also, be patient with yourself and give yourself credit. I always thought that I will never get any better and will always be stuck at the level of writing I have but if I read something I wrote like 7 years ago...even like a year ago, the difference is HUGE and it makes me proud and you should do that as well. Read that cringy story you wrote years ago because it gives a confidence boost when you compare it to your writing now and you see how much you progressed.

ALSO, one thing that helped me a lot and I wish I was doing this sooner (as I just started with the story I am posting now): when you're reading ANYTHING and you find a word or a phrase that intrigues you and you think you could use it at any time in your stories WRITE IT DOWN. If you don't know the meaning write the meaning next to it too. If you have examples where you could use it (your ideas) write that next to it. It has saved me so many times with the story I finished a few weeks ago (and will post it after the ongoing one is finished) because sometimes I see a character doing a gesture or making a certain face in my head and I struggle to describe what I see in my head and having phrases that I read elsewhere written down is so helpful because more you read and you get different ideas how to describe the same thing it's so nice when you find just the right one!

One of the last tips as this is getting too long (I don't know how to describe something in a short sentence): when you get an idea for a story don't just sit down and start writing the first chapter because (and I am talking from my own experience) sooner or later you will get lost, you will get the information wrong and it's just harder for you. What I tend to do is write down all the names of the main characters and write at least 3 things that stand out for them and you might use more than once in your story. For example, if a character gets a gift from someone; write it down WHEN AND WHAT AND FROM WHO. Because if you mention that gift again 20 chapters later you will get frustrated because you won't find that little detail that suddenly became so important and if you have notes and you can find it at once it makes things easier. I also write down chapter summaries. I know it might be hard to know exactly how many chapters you will have (it usually changes for me anyway: for example, the story I will post soon went from the original 10 to 20 chapters because the chapters were just too long and I needed to separate them) or to know at once how the story ends but it makes things 10 times easier and once you start writing chapters down the story just starts to flow and appear in front of you and knowing what you will write about next makes you more focused on the chapter at hand and everything seems more connected and you don't have gaps in your story and inconsistencies. At least for me, it's really easy because I like to push myself to write a chapter per day and I just take my notebook and check what I have to write for that day and then it's suddenly easier because I can just focus on writing the chapter instead of thinking of what to do next.

Of course, all that I just wrote is just an opinion. You should write as you see fit! Don't let anyone tell you that you CAN'T do this or that. It's YOUR writing. YOUR story. You can do whatever you want and write it in the way YOU want. Don't write by the rule book. Write in a way that will make you happy. I have to admit I needed a long time to learn that as I always wanted to follow the rules but I was unhappy and I didn't like what I wrote and I put that on myself thinking my writing is bad when it was just the fact that the style and the rules around it weren't my cup of tea.

Also if you have someone who can read through what you've written and you trust them; give them your story or chapters before you publish them because every story through someone else's eyes is better already. Also, don't be afraid of feedback and criticism. I have never learned more from anything else than criticism. And always take it as positive; a way to better your story and writing. But also know that you don't always have to apply everything someone tells you to do. If you are content with how it is, leave it. Perhaps remember the critique and maybe you'll be able to apply it to a different story. That's how you grow.

Push yourself to write as much as you can. Even if it's a paragraph per day it's something. And most importantly write what you like not what everyone else is doing. If you want to write 30 fics about the same character then do so as long as it brings you joy and makes you happy because no matter how cheesy it sounds it does show in your writing. ❤

I hope I answered your question at least to some degree. I am sorry it's so long I don't know how to write short stuff 🙈

If you have any other questions I would be happy to answer them 🥰