#this fic has been sitting in my folder for a very long time

[agroteraa]

Never Be Like You

Felix Catton x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Summary: AU where Saltburn's ending never happened. Felix lived happily up to 2016 (and on), where he met you at your new job. Meaning he is around 29 here and you are younger.

Yes, a fic based on THAT Jacob Elordi edit

Using the song "Never Be Like You" by Flume feat. Kai

Shout-out to Kasey @kcsvids ❤️

Tags: fluff, implied slow burn, AU.

Word Count: 3,8K

Early August in London this year was quite rainy, but fortunately, the day you had to go around the city with the documents turned out to be surprisingly sunny and pleasant. It was the second month of your new job.

The bell on the door in the coffee shop tinkled as you went inside in search of your senior colleague, whose errands you had been running for half the day.

"Annabel, hi! I’ve signed the documents, made copies and notarized them. Here are the originals in the folder, and here are the copies," you said, sitting down on the opposite chair and rummaging in your bag, taking out all the necessary papers.

"Oh, thank you, Y/N! I expected that you would only have time to pick up the documents, and you have already done everything! Cool, you're doing great!" the girl smiled at you, and then added, "Our new capable young employee."

She said this to a young man in a colored seemingly expensive shirt who was sitting relaxed close to her on the couch and drinking coffee. He looked at you with a smile while Annabel was having a dialogue with you and complimenting you on the work done. God. This was the guy from your job, whom you saw rarely and from afar, but you really wanted to know more about him. You didn't even know his name because you were too shy to ask, and besides, you didn't talk close yet to people in your new place.

"Felix. Felix Catton," he introduced himself, extending his long arm across the table.

"Y/N," you answered a little timidly, shaking his hand. His fingers were no less long than the hand itself, and his palm was warm, "Um... Y/N L/N."

"Okay, I have to run, bye, Ann," the guy kissed her on the cheek, threw some money on the table and smiled at you again, "It was nice to meet you, a new capable young employee."

Young. Not that young, it was your second full-time job after graduating from the university, but of course you were younger than the two of them. Annabel, as far as you knew, was almost 29 years old. Felix was probably about the same age, it was hard for you to tell. It seemed that he could be aged from 23 to 33, given that he looked so youthful and lively.

"So... does he work for our company? It seems that I saw him in the office, but very rarely..." you tried to find out information about this man from Annabel as casually as possible.

"Yes, Felix has... a more of a free schedule. His father is a co–owner of the company. So, he is not particularly worried about being a worker of the year. However, it's not like I live at work either," Annabel began to tell you openly. It seems you had already realized that she was also a pretty laid-back person, "So… What are you ordering?"

Despite your protests, Annabel ordered and paid for you coffee and lunch anyway, and then continued, "We studied at Oxford together. You could say he helped me get a job here later."

Oh. You got it. It seems that the picture in your head had finally begun to take shape. It became clear to you why some people worked hard from early morning till night in the same office as someone came at lunchtime at best and generally behaved as if they had known each other half their lives. Because that how it was. Many of them were Oxonians, and had known each other since the university, and some even from boarding schools. Of course, you also received a decent education, but it was nothing compared to Oxford. But this was also often not only about education, but also about lifestyle in general. Your family was not any close to be called poor, but still it was not comparable to this level of life, and you were able to get a current job only because of your hard work and probably decent amount of luck.

You felt a little sad at the thought that for them you probably were a girl who came out of nowhere and did the paperwork, and it was very possible that you would remain that way in their eyes. In Felix's eyes, in particular. That was how you imagined his life as a golden boy, who was apparently at this stage of his life employed in his own parents' company, where he did not need to make any effort to stay there and at the same time receive a round sum of money. Usually it also led to a certain lifestyle.

While Annabel was stirring her coffee with a spoon, you noticed an engagement ring on her hand, which you didn't seem to notice before or just didn't pay attention to.

"Oh... can I... congratulate you?" you asked, barely hiding your awkwardness, "Is it... Felix?"

"Yes, thank you… What? Felix?" the girl laughed, "No. We used to date back at the university, and after that… Well, now we are not. I can't imagine Felix as a fiancé or husband. To be honest, I don't think he can either. He's a pretty free spirit, let's put it this way."

You exhaled and nodded, on the one hand satisfied with the answer, and on the other hand you were upset and got into thinking even more. Yes, it seemed that you two were different, too different, and it came to be clear in just a half an hour on a lunch.

But that didn't stop you from thinking about him anyway for the whole next month. He still rarely came to the office, but now he nodded and smiled broadly if he saw you. You even chatted briefly a couple of times in the hallway and over a cup of coffee in the office kitchen. You still didn't know what he really was like, but he seemed nice and friendly, even though he was always in a hurry for somewhere else. Or someone else. You couldn't help but still look forward to these short meetings.

And that how the autumn came.

"Well, lucky you, Y/N – it seems that a small anniversary of three months of your work here coincides with our seasonal party," sipping from her cup, Annabel informed you, "Once in a season we go out somewhere with the whole team. Well, to be more exact – with the least boring group of people here. Come with us? We're thinking of going to a club this time."

You willingly agreed, pleased that you were invited to this party. After all, it was not for nothing that you'd been Annabel's indispensable assistant, helping her out all the time. And, to be honest, you did a lot of her own work for her. And also you hoped that you and her began to get closer in personal level, even though you were quite different, it was still quite a fun.

Week later, you were hurrying along the streets while looking at the navigator where exactly the club that Annabel was talking about was located. You were late because you spent a lot of time on dressing up and doing makeup. You wanted to make an impression and you were a little nervous. Nervous because all this time you were wondering if Felix would come or not. You were worried about both scenarios, but you still wanted him to come first of all, even though you had no idea what and how should happen next.

The place greeted you with loud enough but pleasant music and colorful lighting. Your colleagues were sitting on the sofas nearby. Annabel waved cheerfully, "Y/N! We're here! Hi! Yes, you're not even the last one, so make yourself comfortable."

You greeted everyone who was sitting. You felt quite awkward, because you didn't communicate with everyone at least on the same level you did with Annabel, but you hoped that the evening would go well and that you didn't come in vain. And it turned out to be quite alright, but anyway, part of your thoughts was roaming whether Felix would come or not.

"Okay, guys, and now we'll drink to the Y/N! She's been helping me a lot lately. Y/N, I hope this is just the beginning of your work with us!" Annabel toasted.

"To a new young capable employee!" said a velvety deep voice behind you. You turned around. Felix stood behind, dressed in a white shirt and jeans. He had a shot glass in his hand and he had some kind of red cowboy hat on a rope behind his neck and back.

You all clinked drinks together and then started to sit back down on the sofas.

"Hello, Y/N," Felix smiled broadly at you, "Glad you were invited too."

"Oh, Felix, where have you been?" your colleagues began to ask him as he sat down with them and began to tell about being stuck in another club and then getting through traffic jams here to you all.

"Unexpectedly. I thought he wasn't coming, huh," you said softly to Annabel.

"Why wouldn't Felix come to the party? It's not like going to office meetings, you know," the girl chuckled.

You continued to chat with Annabel this evening. Felix, unfortunately, did not approach you, and seemingly had fun chitchatting with all the people on the couch in front of you, although he kept glancing at you, so it seemed to you. But maybe it just seemed, because you had been drinking for the first time in a long time, and your head was already starting to feel a little dizzy.

But over time, your interlocutor talked more and more about her own with her long-time colleagues and friends, until she almost completely forgot about your presence. You began to feel gradually lonely in this company. Maybe you were right. A girl from nowhere who couldn’t even afford too many drinks in this place in central London, who was helping Oxford graduates who were, are and will be fine, with paperwork they weren’t really willing to do. But it was better to splurge on another drink than to sit and think all these thoughts.

Walking through the crowd to the bar, you stood in line and chose what to take for yourself. Something strong, but not very expensive, if possible.

"You have a small anniversary in our company today. It should be celebrated," a pleasant voice spoke softly almost in your ear. Turning your head to the side, you found Felix, who was leaning almost his entire body against the counter. He had definitely had a drink and was even more relaxed and cheerful than usual, "It's all on me, of course."

You protested a little, but Catton quickly dismissed all objections, taking two drinks for you at once and one glass for himself, "And this is about time you tell me how do you find the work here with us, where you came from and generally about yourself."

You headed back to the sofa with drinks. Since the path was laying through the dancing crowd, and you had two glasses in your hands, Felix held you protectively, placing his hand on your back and guiding you through all the people, making sure that no one would touch you. The feeling of his big warm hand on your back, on your skin, half-opened due to the design of the dress, definitely excited you and gave you goosebumps.

Some people from your company, including Annabel, was already gone to the dance floor, so you sat down on an empty sofa together and started talking. It was very uneasy and unusual for you to see Felix so close to you, also in such an informal setting. His big brown eyes looked at you attentively while you talked a little about yourself, about your education, how you got a job at this company, what you were doing here and who you started communicating with. What dark fluffy eyelashes he had. He was so handsome. You blushed a little and got embarrassed, but still, because of the abundance of information that you had to tell him, your brain was a little distracted and calmed down.

"That's great, Y/N. You're so... hardworking. And, apparently, you’ve achieved a lot on your own. That's very cool," Felix nodded with a serious face.

"Well, I haven't achieved anything special yet that I would really like, but thank you for the kind words. It's great that you're interested in your future subordinates."

"Oh, so you know? Well... we'll see about that. My dad is a co–owner of the company, but not the owner. So, it's not at all a fact that I'm going to manage over here," Felix was a little embarrassed and cleared his throat, "And I don't know what's going to happen next, I don't guess into the future for that long… Maybe I'll go abroad somewhere, like I've already done before, huh."

Then Felix began to tell about some parts of his own life - a little about his childhood, about studying at Oxford, what he did there and where he went later. He was quite modest and obviously tried not to emphasize his fabulously luxurious lifestyle, but this was the kind of thing that could not be completely kept to oneself. This manifested itself even in behavior and appearance, not to mention the stories.

But you liked, you really did like talking to him. With all that said, Felix Catton had a talent for making you feel like you were welcome, that you were no worse than him, that your lifestyle was no less boring or less important when he wanted to grant his attention. Even if you were completely different. You were listened to very attentively.

Due to this feeling, combined with his appearance and charisma in general, you were ready to never get up from this couch, if only your conversations would last forever.

But the forever ended quickly when Felix's friends yanked him onto the dance floor. Friends, and maybe not only friends. It seemed that many female colleagues and just a lot of the girls nearby were staring endlessly and smile charmingly at him in the hope of getting more of his attention. Of course, you could understand that oh so well. But all the same, you were upset that your chances were probably much less than those of all his acquaintances in his circle. Even if it was just about a sort of a close communication.

You finished your second drink and went to get another one. While you were standing in line, one of this year's hits started playing in the hall. A gentle female voice began to tell her story:

What I would do to take away

This fear of being loved, allegiance to the pain

Now I fucked up and I'm missing you

Never be like you

I would give anything to change this like-minded heart

That loves fake shiny things

Now I fucked up and I'm missing you

Never be like you

You couldn't take your eyes off Felix, who was having fun in the middle of the crowd – he was giving himself up to the music, dancing to the beat. Green, blue and sometimes purple spots of light slid across his face and his clothes. How graceful and natural he was now, as if he had been born on the dance floor.

I'm only human can't you see

I made, I made a mistake

Please just look me in my face

Tell me everything's okay

'Cause I got it

Never be like you

Felix completely broke up and went dancing at the pole jokingly. You didn't know if he was already so tipsy or just so relaxed naturally to that extent, but you couldn't look away with your mouth slightly opened. He was holding onto the pole with one hand, and with the other he was waving in the air, also swinging his hips.

How do I make you wanna stay

Hate sleeping on my own

Missing the way you taste

Now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you

Never be like you

Stop looking at me with those eyes

Like I could disappear and you wouldn't care why

Now I'm fucked up and I'm missing you

Never be like you

Your heart sank. Even though this song was about trying to bring back an existing relationship, it still somehow resonated especially with you right now. Particularly the line "Never be like you", which seemed to repeat your thought, which you carefully tried to hide from yourself tonight. You would never be like Felix.

The crowd gathered at the bar gradually pushed the gawking and not moving you closer to the dance floor, where Catton noticed you.

"Hey, Y/N, why are you just standing there so lost? Join me," the guy said cheerfully, slightly pulling you by the hand closer to him.

You started dancing together, he put on his red hat on to make you laugh a little. He was smiling widely, swaying from side to side bewitchingly in front of you.

I'm only human can't you see

I made, I made a mistake

Please just look me in my face

Tell me everything's okay

'Cause I got it

Never be like you

His white shirt was unbuttoned now, apparently, he had been hot for a while. Beads of sweat gathered on his skin and disappeared with him in the rays of the strobe light from time to time, which shone behind his back. In such lighting, it seemed as if he was moving in slow motion, and that was all a beautiful movie in which you accidentally fell into the place of the main character. But it wasn't a fantasy, it was your night right now.

I'm falling on my knees

Forgive me, I'm a fucking fool

I'm begging darling please

Absolve me of my sins, won't you

You wanted this moment to last forever. And unlike the conversation on the couch, it really felt like it was happening, like in a dream that no one dared to break. You were drowning in his magnetic gaze and smile, which he was giving only to you now. He was like Prince Charming of the 2010’s.

I'm only human can't you see

I made, I made a mistake

Please just look me in my face

Tell me everything's okay

'Cause I got it

Never be like you

Baby, baby please believe me

Come on take it easy

Please don't ever leave me... oooh

Never be like you

You mentally repeated the last lines of this song until your face itself took on a slightly pleading look. Felix seemed to catch it and touched your shoulder. His lips parted in the desire to say something, but he just stood there for a few seconds in silence, as if considering what to say and do next.

"... by the way, you look great today. I mean, your office looks are cute too, but this… You're full of surprises, aren't you?" he said after a while.

You smiled sheepishly as you continued to dance, drifting back into a musical and slightly alcoholic trance until it was interrupted by several of Felix's friends and your colleagues.

"Buddy, we've going home," the guys shook hands, and then started talking about some of their business. You moved a little to the side, and as soon as you did that, Felix slowly began to be surrounded by familiar and not so very familiar people. You went for a cocktail, and then headed to the couch, where you started talking to a colleague of yours. You kept glancing in Felix's direction at the same time, but he still didn't come up, engrossed in talking and some dancing.

After saying goodbye to your colleague, who also left, you finished your cocktail and finally decided to check your phone. Oh. You didn't know it was so late. You started looking for a taxi, but it costed a lot right now. Confused, you sat alone, staring at the screen and sucking from a straw a mix of melted ice and a cocktail from the bottom of a glass.

"Please pardon me for leaving you for a while," the hot hand laid on your back and then its owner appeared behind it, who plopped down on the sofa next to you. He looked at you with slightly regretful doe eyes, "Are you... leaving already?"

"Yes, it's very late, and there's a lot to do tomorrow… But the taxi is still expensive, I guess I'll wait a little longer."

"What are you talking about? I'll get you a car right now," Felix took out his phone and began to quickly type something on it.

"Oh, come on, don't..."

"Hey. We're celebrating your anniversary at work, our new best employee. Have you already forgotten?" the guy interrupted you, grinning, "Tell me your address, please."

You gave your address, Catton smiled slightly.

Five minutes later, a business class taxi pulled up to the club. You just went outside, and the warm air of an early autumn night pleasantly enveloped you after the hot and stuffy nightclub.

"Is this really my car?" you were amazed. Felix turned his head to the left and right, and then, leaning over, said in a serious tone, "I don't see any exactly the same beautiful girl waiting for exactly the same taxi, and do you?"

You giggled and blushed noticeably. There was a pause hanged in the night air.

"Thanks for your company, Y/N. I'm glad you're with us now. I hope we'll see each other more often from now on."

You looked him straight in the eye, and then nodded slightly and slowly.

"Good night. Please text when you... Ah..." Felix rolled his eyes at himself, "I don't have your phone number."

He looked down, shaking his head and chewing lightly on his lip. A knot tied in your stomach. Felix. Catton. Asked. You. Your. Number. It might had been more of a common courtesy, of course, but your heart started beating a lot faster anyway. Of course, you dictated your phone number to him, which made him full of ill-concealed joy. Having recorded it in his smartphone, he said, as if nothing had happened, "Yeah, great, now I have a place to text to find out how you got home," and put you in a taxi.

He gently touched your shoulders once more when he put you in the car. He pressed his lips almost weightlessly to your ear, "Good night again, Y/N. Thank you for this evening," his mumble was very warm and pleasant, you felt your hair rising on your skin.

Watching the taxi leave, from which window you looked at him back, Felix lit a cigarette. He was smiling widely and contentedly, exhaling smoke and slightly twitching his whole body on the spot from another surge of energy. He was obviously going to attend the work more often from now on.

[jeongheart]

super shy

summary: he's been receiving these letters for the past year but, he doesn't know your name, does he?

w.c: 7.1k.

tags: friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life.

a.n: this is the longest fic i ever written omg, i've been playing new jeans latest comeback for a few days and this is the result lol. as always, english is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes. leave your thoughts if you liked it, means a lot!

It was there again.

Sitting immaculately on top of his messy folders, the envelope was white without any type of decoration, the owner of the cursive handwriting wouldn't even risk placing a sticker since it could give a clue, even minimal, about who was behind it.

The classroom was almost empty, since recess ended a few minutes ago and the students were still lazily getting up from the grass where they were lying, not wanting to lock themselves in a room again for hours while the day was shining beautifully outside the building.

However, Chan looked around him, narrowing his eyes as he scanned his classmates for the smallest trace of uneasiness as he took the envelope in his hands. But he didn't find any, unless the author had a master's degree in poker face no one around him seemed interested in what he was doing.

After the failed scrutiny, he sat down again with no care on the wooden bench, eager to read what that person had to say today. This excited feeling was new for him, the letters had been arriving about a year ago, right at the beginning of the new semester and at first, Chan found it funny. Surely one of his friends (he bet his life on either Seungmin or Minho, those two were always up to something no matter how much they said they weren't) found it fun to piss him off this year, after all, it has been a long time since his last relationship and sometimes he felt the need of affection, so the "joke" made perfect sense in his head.

He didn't read them the first few months, he just crumpled them up and kept them in a hidden place in his backpack, to let whoever was behind them know that he wasn't interested. But they kept coming even after that vile act against someone's real feelings; and that was when Chan began to question if there really was a person genuinely interested in him, interested enough to send him handwritten letters as if they were living in a classic romance novel. The person had a beautiful vocabulary, and it was clear that they paid attention to details that he didn't even noticed about himself.

The notes weren't very long since they didn't exceed ten lines, but each word was full of admiration and affection. They always reminded him to eat and take care of his health, in addition to telling him day by day one of the qualities why his mysterious person had fallen in love with him. Chan blushed every time he read those reasons, it was no secret (to himself, since he didn't like others to know) that he didn't think very highly of himself; from his point of view there was nothing nice or admirable about his existence. But this person believed just the opposite, and they had made their life's mission to let him know that every day.

Today was no exception, the lined sheets were a pastel color (pink? orange?) and had small animal decorations at the bottom and top (he noticed that these came in "groups", the representative animal of these last ten notes was a smiling giraffe). It was incredibly adorable, and Chan found himself laughing softly every time he took out the contents of the envelope.

'Mondays are always hard! Especially this time of year (can't the professors trust in me and my knowledge of things? I don't see the need for them to take a test).

Anyway, Channie, this weekend I found myself thinking a lot about you, every time I start writing my reasons I feel like I'm going to be left speechless but then I remember that it's not difficult at all to love you. So here is another one:

Your resilience, I greatly admire your ability to always get up no matter how many blows life throws at you. The vast majority of us feel discouraged by the slightest inconvenience, but not you. And that is something incredible.

I hope you have a beautiful start to the week, remember to eat your meals and feel the sun.

Fondly,'

And that's how all the letters ended, the author seemed to hesitate every time they traced the last line, he could feel the uncertainty even on the paper. Chan knew that they were shy and always wondered when they were going to stop being to finally sign with their name and be able to meet that person who stole his heart with every word.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

He was reading the note, hunched over his things, almost shielding the contents of the paper from the prying eyes of anyone who passed by him. You knew he was going to do it (he always did) but you couldn't stop your heart from racing like it was the first time it happened. You watched him from the hallway, hiding behind one of your textbooks while a silly smile appeared on your face, nothing made you happier than making him happy with your words, it's true what people say about "butterflies in the stomach" because that was what you were feeling right now.

His eyes crinkled in the most adorable way possible every time he smiled and from your spot in the hallway you could almost hear the sigh he let out after finishing reading the letter. After scanning his surroundings one last time, Chan placed the paper back into the envelope, and carefully placed it inside his notebook.

"You and your Shakespeare complex again" The sudden voice of your best friend so close made you jump in your place and drop the book you had in your hands. It hit the ground with a dull sound due to the thickness of its contents, and when you picked up the book again you turned around to face the figure of the perpetrator. He just laughed at you and your reaction, which earned him a closed-fist blow directly to his shoulder.

"You deserve it" You didn't even bother to return his reproachful gaze since he clearly felt like fighting, and instead, you returned your focus to Chan's classroom and his figure. He was no longer in his seat and you didn't want to look weird by leaning out the window door to look for him. So you sighed heavily and leaned your body against the wall while closing your eyes.

Until you felt Jeongin's presence come to your side "Are you going to tell him sometime?"

You didn't answer him.

Well, actually you did, with a growl that could mean either 'I'll do it today, stop bothering' or 'not even dead'. However, the blonde wasn't satisfied with your interpretation of an animal as a response and he began poking your ribs with his long fingers, drawing high-pitched sounds of protest from your lips.

"Stop it, Innie" You moved his hands away from your figure and stood firmly looking him in the eyes like a mother who is trying to discipline her misbehaving son. He crossed his arms with a satisfied smile crossing his face with foxlike features and, with a movement of his head, he invited you to speak.

"What do you want me to say? 'Hello Chan! It's me, the person who has been sending you letters like a fifteen-year-old for a year now. I've been in love with you since the moment I saw you at my best friend's house. Do you want to be my boyfriend?" You rolled your eyes tiredly and didn't wait for Jeongin to tell you what he thought, and so you started walking towards your classroom, with an exasperated five foot seven boy following closely behind you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

You still remembered the first time you'd seen him, and how couldn't you. His presence could illuminate even the darkest corner, and his personality attracted anyone around him.

It was the summer, and you'd gone to Jeongin's house to spend an afternoon together. The air conditioning in your apartment had broken two days ago, and you couldn't stand being in your room for another second, which was already beginning to feel like an industrial oven. When you arrived at your best friend's residence, you weren't surprised by the fact that there were more people than just the two of you. Jeongin was taking singing lessons at a nearby academy and had hit it off with some of his classmates; so while you didn't know them as well as he did, you had the chance to hang out with some of them a couple of times and you could say that they were the funniest guys you'd ever come across. Especially Hyunjin, who seemed to be like a glove with your best friend.

Jeongin's house felt cold, as if winter had come only for the Yang family and, although you shivered with every step you took towards the kitchen where voices could be heard, this felt like paradise compared to the hell you lived in your house (and you even thought it was cooler in hell).

Reaching the kitchen, you heard Hyunjin's melodious voice followed by his nasal, boisterous laughter at a comment Jeongin made. You shook your head laughing inwardly as you pushed the wooden door open to enter the space, the boys turning their heads in your direction as they heard the hinges snapping back into place.

Your best friend gave you his characteristic smile as he got up from his seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen island to give you a small hug "I thought you weren't coming anymore!"

From Jeongin's shoulder you saw how Hyunjin gave you a smile and a wave, you tried to return the gesture as best you could considering that you were trapped in the arms of a boy who flatly stated that he didn't like hugs. It was getting long in your opinion, so you patted Jeongin on the back, letting him know that yes, you loved him very much, but you were still sticky with sweat from the walk in the sun and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable when he was so cool. When Jeongin let go of you, he opened his palm to introduce you to a person you hadn't seen before, "I hope you don't mind, that's Chan over there. He also goes to our academy, and he goes to university with us! Although he is a year ahead"

You smiled at Jeongin as you walked further into the kitchen to greet the new guest and in front of you stood one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen in your entire life. He wasn't very tall (you could tell even if he was sitting) but his broad shoulders gave him an intimidating presence, his hair looked messy in a swirl of brown curls, and although he was dressed from head to toe in black (you were sure his nails were painted that color too) on his face was a dimpled smile that took your breath away.

From one moment to the next you forgot how to articulate words and you felt like a fish opening and closing its mouth trying to find something to say, but your brain didn't seem to want to work.

You felt a small push on your right shoulder that took your body forward, towards the table, and towards Chan.

"How rude you are" Jeongin rolled his eyes, and although deep down you knew he was doing it to tease you, your cheeks turned red. You felt your tongue heavy in your mouth as the seconds passed and you were unable to utter a single word.

"Leave her alone, Innie. It's pretty hot outside, isn't it?" Chan's deep voice brought you out of your trance and forced you to look him in the eyes. He had a sincere smile on his face and was watching you with raised eyebrows, letting you know that he was going to listen to you when you wanted to respond.

Your heart did a complete turn in your chest, you were surprised in the best of ways at how friendly he was, the vast majority of boys with his attractiveness made that their only personality trait but he was attentive and considerate of all the people around him, even with complete strangers who hadn't stopped looking or saying anything to him in three minutes.

"Yes...yes, it's horrible! And the air conditioning in my house is broken and you can't imagine how hot it is! I feel like I'm going to die one of these days" The words came tumbling out of your mouth, since you hadn't had the time to stop and think about what exactly you wanted to say, and your nerves were playing the worst trick of your entire life.

Chan laughed again (even his laugh was pretty) and he nodded his head, not at all scared or surprised with the lexical vomit you just made.

"It must be like torture, really. You must be tired from the walk under the sun, why don't you sit down for a bit? The boys and I were planning to watch a movie" The brunette softly kicked one of the stools that were stored under the table in your direction.

You nodded shyly and took the seat he offered you, right in front of him. You left your phone on the cold marble of the table and looked around the kitchen for your best friend, you'd been surprised by the fact that he hadn't gotten into the conversation for five minutes and to be honest you desperately needed to focus on something other than Chan's penetrating gaze you felt on your face.

"Innie?" You called out to him with a small shout, loud enough for him to hear you even if he'd gone into the garden.

After a few seconds, your friend's blonde head peeked out of the left door that led to the living room, and a mischievous smile appeared on his face. "I'm sorry! Since you two were talking, we decided to go prepare things for the movie."

Jeongin paused and looked at you evilly, a look that you knew very well and that didn't give you a good feeling at all "Chan, why don't you prepare something to eat? I bought some snacks today, come when you have everything ready~" And before you could protest, he disappeared from your sight again while laughing and yelling something at Hyunjin.

You immediately tensed up and cursed Jeongin in your mind, how dare he leave you alone with your newfound crush. If he was getting revenge for the time you tried to play matchmaker and failed then he was being very childish, that'd been years ago!

While the insulting thoughts against your best friend and all his ancestors accumulated in your brain, from the corner of your eye you watched as Chan got up from his seat and went to the counter where the mentioned snacks and bowls of colors were located, apparently the prankster you called your best friend had already prepared the trap before you even arrived.

You didn't want to look weirder than you already felt so with your limbs shaking and making even the slightest of movements difficult; you also got up from your seat and slowly approached where Chan was, you stood next to him (close enough for him to know that you were willing to help but far enough not to invade his personal space).

He looked at you briefly and smiled sideways, and didn't say anything as he gently pushed a bowl towards you. The task wasn't very complicated per se, but it did become extremely difficult when the only thing you could focus on were the large, veiny hands of the boy next to you, you hadn't realized how attractive it was to see a man opening packets of potato chips and arranging them in a small container until now.

"Jeongin said we go to the same university, do you study the same as him?" You were startled by the sudden interruption of silence, you turned to look at Chan after finishing preparing the bowl with the nachos.

"Yes, I mean, no. We share some classes because some subjects are correlative in each one's career but I could never do the same as Innie" You smiled shyly and shook your head.

"I study psychology," You finally said and looked at your companion, who had his eyes open and bright like a puppy's (how could it be possible for a person to be incredibly attractive and adorable at the same time? It would have to be illegal), and you wondered what it was that'd amazed him so much, there were millions of other people studying the same thing as you.

Without meaning to, you raised an eyebrow; studying his reaction. He laughed again (it was something he loved to do, apparently) and turned his entire body towards you, resting his left hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's incredible, the human mind is fascinating. I understand why you study that, for my part, I wouldn't read everything you have to read even if someone paid me."

You laughed loudly, infecting Chan as well. He was doing so with his whole body, his shoulders were shaking to the rhythm of his giggles and you could notice that, from time to time, a small squeak would appear in the sound of his laughter.

When the laughter died down, you looked at him again as you put the last bag of snacks in the cupboard in front of you.

"Yes, I mean, it's a lot to read but it's like you say. I'm interested in knowing the reason for behavior, and I would like to help people in the future. Mental health is something important" This last part came out in a whisper, you weren't used to revealing the reason for your career choice, most people told you that you should have chosen something that would make you rich in twenty years.

"That's incredible, I admire you a lot" Chan said in a soft voice, and you hadn't realized how close he'd gotten until you noticed the small touch of his fingers on your arm, the color quickly rose to your cheeks again and panic took over you, making you choke up when you spoke.

"Y-yes, thank you... not many think that way" And you moved your body away from his space; maybe a little abruptly but you were sure that if you continued in that position you were going to do or say something ridiculous, you couldn't trust your ability to reason at the moment.

Chan cleared his throat at your reaction and took two bowls in his hands, starting to walk towards the living room. You hadn't realized how loudly the other two boys were talking, were you so immersed in the situation to forget the outside world? Apparently yes.

"Are you done yet? The boys must be waiting" He stopped right in front of the door, waiting for you to take what you'd prepared.

You nodded softly, and after grabbing your preparations, you followed him into the living room.

You don't really remember what happened after that, you assume you watched the movies that the boys had already chosen before you arrived. You also don't remember if you had even paid attention, probably not, because you were very focused on keeping your breathing as normal as you could since unfortunately Hyunjin and Jeongin decided to each sit in an individual chair and by coincidence the only place left to sit was in the two-seat chair that your best friend's grandmother had given to his mother at her wedding, and conveniently Chan sat there too. So as the movie played on the screen, your heart raced with every accidental brush of your arms or legs against Chan's.

The only thing you remember clearly from that moment is that you couldn't help but look at his profile, trying to memorize every detail and every peculiarity of his expressions.

The rest of the summer felt like a haze, every time you made plans with Jeongin you knew Chan was going to be there. And that did nothing to dispel the feelings that were beginning to become more present with every minute you spent in his presence.

You liked him a little too much.

His kind nature and the way he treated everyone made you dizzy every time, but you were too shy to act on your feelings and unfortunately you weren't the only one who thought Chan was a good catch. Every now and then different girls approached him to ask him out, and although he always rejected them; you couldn't help but feel a little insecure about the situation. And there was also the small problem that he confessed to you one night in Hyunjin's garden: his last relationship had been somewhat toxic, and although it ended years ago, he was deeply hurt and didn't feel ready yet to fall for someone again.

That confession left a sour taste in your mouth, so you decided not to actively act on your feelings, you really didn't want to make Chan uncomfortable or force him into something he didn't want to do, let alone ruin the friendship you were building. But something as strong as love cannot be contained, and one sleepless night you found yourself scribbling in your notebook the things you wanted to say to him, the things you liked about him, and how he made you feel when you looked at him.

You weren't thinking when you left the first envelope on his desk, it was a completely impulsive decision that you regretted the moment you left his classroom. But when you turned around to go back and throw the letter into the trash, he already found it.

At first he didn't read them, you knew because you'd overheard when he mentioned it to Hyunjin during an outing the three of you made, Chan believed that one of his friends was playing a prank on him.

And that was the last straw that broke the camel's back, although you told yourself that you weren't going to write anymore letters for the sake of your friendship and your own feelings you had to let him know (even if anonymously) that he was someone worthy of love and that he wasn't what the people in his past made him believe he was.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

Once you arrived at the classroom (miraculously before the professor, you didn't think you could endure another lecture and there were still three more hours before leaving the university) you sat down in your respective seat by the window. The day was really beautiful, and from your place you could see the large patio where the entire student body went to relax between classes, it was your favorite place in the entire building and at this moment you wanted nothing more than to be leaning against a tree feeling the warm sunlight on your face.

"I'm not saying you have to tell him that but don't you think it's been too long already?" Jeongin didn't seem to want to drop the topic for today, he'd gotten up from his seat taking advantage of the fact that there was still no sign of the teacher and sat at your table, almost knocking all the things that were on top of it to the floor. You rested your head on the bench and waved a hand in the air, brushing it off in an attempt to say 'leave me alone already'.

Your best friend snorted exasperatedly, "You really are a special case, you've been in love with him for a year, for God's sake."

At the boy's aggressive tone of voice, you took your head off the table and looked at him with a frown. He looked back at you like he always did: challenging and forcing you to speak for yourself.

"It's not as easy as you say, Jeongin" You spat angrily.

"For all I know, if he finds out, he could throw my stupid letters in the trash and confessing would not only make me look weird but it would also ruin the friendship we have" You lowered your face, feeling a little sad "And the last thing I would like to do is lose him"

Jeongin’s expression softened as he realized the depth of your anxiety, and he reached out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I get it, I really do. You don't want to jeopardize what you have but you deserve happiness too, you know? Maybe it's time to take a risk."

“I don’t even think I have a chance” You sighed, feeling defeated.

Jeongin moved closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "You may have more possibilities than you think, but sometimes you have to give destiny a little push."

You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words and just as you were about to question him further, the professor made an appearance in the classroom ordering everyone to take their respective seats and apologizing for the delay. Your best friend flashed you a bright smile with his trademark dimples and snuck over to his table, effectively ending the conversation and leaving you wondering what he meant for the rest of the day.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

If Jeongin's plan was for you to not sleep for a week, then he'd achieved it. His words had been spinning through your head like a whirlpool that seemed to have no end. You knew that he'd been friends with the brunette for a longer time than you, but were they close enough that the youngest knew the secrets inside Chan's heart?

Or was he giving you the advice that all friends gave to their other friends desperate to believe in the illusion that the person they like reciprocates their feelings? No, Jeongin wouldn't do that, he was too honest for his own good and besides you'd known each other longer (your mothers said you were born to be friends). So did that mean there really was a chance?

No, of course not, that was ridiculous.

You shook your head in an attempt to get rid of those thoughts as you rang the doorbell at Hyunjin's house. Your group had agreed to meet to study and you needed to have a clear mind, the exams were around the corner and you couldn't afford to keep your brain preoccupied thinking about something that would never happen.

The minutes passed slowly as you waited for the homeowner, and while you were thinking about ringing the doorbell again fearing that the boys inside hadn't heard you, the door suddenly opened, and nothing could have prepared you to see the person who has been living rent free in your mind, you knew he would be there, but you didn't expect to face him so quickly.

"Hey, you arrived just in time, Hyunjin's mom just brought us some drinks" Chan was his usual self, with his beautiful smile plastered on his face and his relaxed attitude.

You blinked once, twice, three times before you managed a small forced smile and responded, "Oh, great, thanks," and you stood there in silence, unable to look him in the eyes.

Chan tilted his head in silent question at your attitude, "Is everything okay?"

His concern for your well-being was evident in his voice and he struck a chord in your heart. You looked at him briefly, meeting his gaze for a fleeting moment and nodded, still struggling to find your voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You finally responded, trying to sound casual despite the jumble of emotions inside you.

Chan's friendly demeanor never wavered as he led you into the house, you followed him with a notable distance between your bodies and so when you arrived at the living room where the boys were already seated with open textbooks and a monstrous amount of things to eat you almost ran to sit next to Jeongin, an attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde, who looked at you with his eyebrows raised in a telepathic question.

Meanwhile, Chan didn't take his eyes off you as he sat next to Hyunjin on the couch in front of where you and your best friend were.

The afternoon went by slowly, too slowly for your liking, you'd gone with all the desire to study and get your mind out of the anxiety that was consuming you, but that attempt had been futile.

Although your gaze remained glued to your notes and your blue highlighter (which hadn't highlighted anything in the last hour, you'd read the same paragraph five times without getting a clue of what it was trying to say) you felt how two eyes were burning holes in your figure. The room was suffocatingly silent, and you were sure that your irregular breathing was evident to the entire group; your nerves were so on edge that when your best friend's voice filled the void you almost jumped in your place.

"I'm tired, how about we take a break?"Jeongin raised his arms towards the ceiling, stretching his back and then collapsing gracelessly against the soft cushions of the sofa.

Hyunjin nodded while massaging his neck, stiff after so many hours of looking down at his notes and reading "I thought no one was going to say it, I was going crazy."

Chan didn't say anything, he just closed his notebooks and imitated Jeongin in his relaxed pose against the couch. You felt out of place when the boys started chatting about meaningless things to lighten the atmosphere.

You only nodded when you felt your input was necessary, or laughed when you thought that was the reaction you should have but you didn't speak, because in fact, you weren't sure you were going to say anything coherent or at least make your voice louder than a whisper, so you decided that the best course of action was to stay quiet.

If the boys noticed it, they didn't say anything, and you couldn't be more grateful for it.

"You know" Chan interrupted the laughter of the other two boys after a not-so-funny story told by Hyunjin.

Everyone focused their attention on him, the tone of voice he'd used was more serious than his usual; so serious that it forced you to look up for the first time since the recess began and you found Chan's brown eyes looking directly at you, doing it so intensely that you thought he was staring right into your soul.

You held your breath, but you weren't prepared for what he said next.

"My secret admirer hasn't written to me in a few days" He was still looking at you, but there was something strange hidden in his irises, something you couldn't decipher.

Silence once again took over Hyunjin's living room, and the tension could be cut with a knife, it almost seemed like time had stopped when the brunette pronounced the last syllable. Your mouth felt dry, and your palms began to sweat. The weight of his words floated in the air and a thousand thoughts passed through your mind, each one more disconcerting than the last.

Hyunjin snorted, and looked maliciously at Chan "Maybe they are tired of you."

His mocking comment broke the heavy silence like thunder. Jeongin joined in with a playful smile, taking the opportunity to tease Chan mercilessly. “Maybe your secret admirer found someone else,” he joked, his tone light and teasing, “Or maybe they are just playing hard to get.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, wanting to burst while the boys laughed at Chan's expense while he, in response, rolled his eyes and smiled sarcastically at the jokes that his friends kept saying, he also looked at you from time to time making your discomfort even more evident.

You desperately searched for words to contribute to the conversation, your voice choked by the rising anxiety. But as Jeongin and Hyunjin's playful teasing continued, you remained silent, feeling like a bystander in a conversation that was becoming more cryptic by the second. Chan's gaze never left you, and despite the teasing, there was something in his eyes that betrayed a deeper understanding. His comment felt like a puzzle piece falling into place, yet you couldn't put your finger on what he truly knew.

As the laughter subsided, the room descended into an awkward silence once more, and then Chan finally spoke up, his tone more subdued than before. "Well, whoever it is," he began, his eyes still locked on yours, "I hope they know they've brightened my days with their letters."

The comment hung in the air, carrying a weight that seemed to pull everyone into its gravity. Jeongin and Hyunjin exchanged glances, their playful demeanor suddenly giving way to something more conspiracy.

You, on the other hand, felt an overwhelming mix of emotions. The anxiety that'd been building throughout the day reached a crescendo. You wanted to say something, to respond in some way, but the words caught in your throat.

Hyunjin broke the silence once more, this time with a touch of sincerity in his voice. "Whoever they are," he said, "they must really care about you, man." Jeongin nodded in agreement, and the room seemed to shift, it was a subtle transformation, but one that you couldn't help but notice.

Chan smiled, a genuine one that reached his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, "They do mean a lot to me."

You desperately needed a moment to collect your thoughts and emotions after that serious conversation, so you mumbled something about getting a drink from the kitchen, excusing yourself with a weak smile and slowly, you retreated from the living room, the voices of the boys fading as you put some distance between you and the group.

In the dimly lit kitchen, you leaned against the countertop, your heart still racing from the tension in the room. The realization that Chan cherished those anonymous letters hit you like a ton of bricks. You'd never imagined how much they meant to him.

Just as you were lost in thought, the sound of footsteps behind you made you jump. You turned to find Chan standing there, a serious yet gentle expression on his face. His presence seemed to fill the room with warmth, and your anxiety ratcheted up another notch.

"Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"

You nodded, unable to form words an he took a step closer, his gaze never left yours.

Chan's brown eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had frozen around you. You couldn't contain the thoughts racing through your mind any longer. With a trembling voice, you finally asked the question that'd been gnawing at you.

"Do you know who's been sending those letters?"

Chan's expression remained calm, but you could see a glimmer of something in his eyes, a hint of knowing. He didn't answer immediately, instead, he stepped closer, narrowing the distance between you.

His voice was soft as he replied, "I have a feeling I might have a clue."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched his face for more hints. What did he mean by 'a clue'? It was clear he was being deliberately vague, and it only added to your curiosity.

"But," he continued, "I'd like to hear it from you. Tell me, do you know who it is?"

You hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. The walls between you and Chan seemed to dissolve, and the vulnerability in his eyes was mirrored in your own. With a shaky breath, you summoned the courage to speak, your voice quivering with fear and anticipation.

"It's me."

The admission hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes locked on the floor as you waited for his reaction. The seconds felt like hours as you replayed all the letters, and the emotions you'd poured into them.

Chan's silence stretched, and the tension in the room became palpable. Your heart raced, and you feared the worst — rejection, awkwardness, or even laughter.

Then, he reached out, gently lifting your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. The warmth and kindness in his gaze melted away your fears.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere. "I've cherished every single one."

As tears welled up in your eyes, Chan reached out to gently wipe them away with his thumb. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, holding you close as your emotions overwhelmed you. You couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and they flowed freely as you nestled into his embrace. He whispered soothing words, his voice a balm to your soul, reassuring you that everything would be okay.

After a moment of shared comfort, you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with curiosity. "But how did you know it was me?" you finally asked, your voice still trembling.

Chan smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, a knowing twinkle in his eye, and replied, "I had my suspicions, especially after some of the things you wrote. But what really gave it away was your handwriting."

You blinked in surprise.

Handwriting? You hadn't considered that, no, haven't even thought about it when you started this a year ago, and to be honest you felt a little dumb.

Chan continued, "I recognized your handwriting from a birthday card you gave me a while back. It was similar to the writing in the letters. And then, well, I saw you looking at me during our hangouts, and it all just started to make sense."

You blushed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. It seemed like you'd left more clues than you thought. But instead of feeling exposed, you felt a strange sense of comfort knowing that he'd noticed your feelings all along.

With a shy smile, you said, "I guess I'm not very good at hiding my feelings, am I?"

Chan chuckled softly. "No, but that's okay. I'm glad you told me."

As you gazed into Chan's eyes, you noticed something change in his expression. The initial surprise and curiosity gave way to a more tender, understanding look. He cupped your face gently, his touch warm and reassuring.

"You know," he began softly, "I've always appreciated those letters. They made me feel special, like someone out there truly understood me. And I never wanted to pressure you into revealing yourself," Chan continued. "I wanted you to do it when you were ready."

"I was just afraid," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of what you might think, of how it might change things between us."

Chan's thumb traced small circles on your cheek as he reassured you, "Don't be. This doesn't change how I feel about what we have. If anything, it makes it even more special."

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye, but this time, it wasn't a tear of anxiety or fear. It was a tear of relief, of happiness. You leaned into Chan's touch, and he leaned closer, his eyes locked on yours, and before you knew it, his lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The world seemed to melt away as your lips met his, you felt the warmth of his body against yours, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. His hands cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, as if he never wanted to let you go.

The taste of his lips was sweet and comforting, like a warm embrace on a cold winter's day, you could feel the steady beat of Chan's heart, matching the rhythm of your own. The world around you disappeared, and there was only the two of you.

And just as you were lost in that sweet moment, the kitchen door burst open, and in walked your friends, their playful banter filling the room while wearing grins so wide they threatened to split their faces. Jeongin couldn't help but tease you, waggling his eyebrows playfully. "Well, well, looks like someone finally got the courage to make a move!"

Hyunjin joined in with a mock-sympathetic tone. "And here we thought we'd have to wait another century for this to happen!"

You blushed furiously, pulling away from Chan who chuckled in amusement, still holding you close. "You guys have impeccable timing," he remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Jeongin winked at you, "Hey! We're just glad we won't have to hear you two mooning over each other anymore."

[rennybu]

finished veilguard finally 💆 if you have a pc with parts from 2017 and no ssd, know you did not struggle through the load errors and preset character bugs alone

some thoughts for closure (mostly negative from a place of love)

Despite the preceding 3 games all looking, sounding, and feeling different gameplay-wise, as someone who picked up the series in 2016 and played them back to back, i felt like they all shared the same scope and the same enjoyment of the setting and had stories that engaged with that setting in a way that was eager to keep exploring it. All 3 games had hook moments for me, either in a major plot development or a presentation gimmick that made me want to continue and made my character feel unique to my player experience. Veilguard never hooked me and broke my immersion constantly. I kept feeling like the script was reluctant or embarrassed to be taking place in The Dragon Age Setting. Which sucks because I like it there and want to play in it. It felt stripped down and very removed from the world of the last 3 games. And I mean. like everyone, I’ve been following the development hell, reading dev responses, the ama, looking at the scrapped joplin art concepts. I can see the shape of what it might have been but it’s too big a gap for me to want to play in and do any headcanon fic-writing work on my own. I had a few ideas early on but the game overall left me feeling burnt out on trying to… bridge the gap on my lack of immersion. My enjoyment shouldn’t have to hinge solely on headcanons. For the previous games, the foundations were strong enough that headcanons were an extra sauce on top of what we were given. I really didn’t feel like a mover in this story.

A lot of ppl have better articulated more precise complaints and I don’t have it in me to sit in deep contemplation and type up a full review 😭 everything I enjoyed about the game, there wasn’t enough of. It’s like I can see the rough idea of Rook being a foil to Solas, but I did not Feel It in the gameplay or the writing or the interactions and the options given to me to play. The regret prison was cool, but i wish it had the depth to consider Rook’s faction, their exile, their ever becoming Rook at all. I wish the team had had time to sit and invent more Thedas-specific, setting-informed gender terminology. I wish I wish I wish!

I think most of my enjoyment now is derived from seeing others’ ocs and designs within the setting. Wardens hawkes inquisitors rooks yay. I think I will need a very long break before I make any new fanart myself (impossible to say for sure) but I don’t like. Hate it now. And I love what the series has done for my past artistic improvement and inspiration/influence. The games are important to me and I’m just disappointed ahgkskgkd

Love dragon age. Going to stare at my screenshots folder for the entire series and not say another word

[covetyou]

some good friend - pt. 1

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3

pairing: Tim Rockford x Soft Dom!Sex Worker!f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: pegging, anal fingering, praise kink, mild glove kink, very mild feminization, masturbation, Tim has body image issues and a bit of an identity crisis, kind of coming untouched, sex work, comfort word count: 7k summary: Nerves were coiling in his belly in a way they typically only did at the end of a big case. There was no judge or jury here, no sentence, no surprise acquittal. There was just your door, and the promise of everything that lay beyond it. And it made him nervous.

A/N: finally, my boy Tim sees the light of day. I've been working on this for a while, and it's been nice to try something a little different. I hope you like it (and someone, anyone, please, stop me from making this a 3 part series too late, it's going to be a series)

divider by @saradika-graphics follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

Everything burns. His lungs, his legs, his goddamned feet.

He wasn't made for this. Not any more. His fucking shoes definitely weren't made for this - a fact made more and more obvious with every harsh, sharp, slap of his soles against the ground. Gone were the days of intense foot chases. They'd long since been replaced with hours spent at his desk, in interview rooms, searching the stacks in the archive room. The only saving grace was at the very least he was accustomed to low light - the dimly lit rooms he frequented coming in handy now as he thuds along in the semi-darkness, chasing after someone who is more shadow than man.

The drizzle of a cold October day certainly isn't helping either. He's coated in a fine mist of rain and soaked through to the marrow. His shoes - these fucking shoes - skid on the wet road, threatening injury with each turn of a corner. Every intake of breath blooms pain in his chest, each gasp seeming to draw in more water than air. That is, of course, if the biting chill of the wind doesn't swipe it all out of his mouth first.

He's drowning. Drowning and suffocating and burning all in one, but he can't stop. He can't will his legs to stop, even through the burn. Stopping means he loses, and he cannot lose. Not again. Not with this case.

But then, he turns a corner and the shadow is gone, faded into the darkness of an unlit alley, and out of his grasp once again.

Shit.

The ache is settled well into his bones by the time he gets home in the early hours of the morning. His tie sits damp in his jacket pocket - discarded at the roadside in a fit of rage and stomped into the wet ground, only to be picked up and pocketed a moment later. He liked that tie. His holsters tug uncomfortably at his shoulders, the twist of his body as he was running having shifted them to where they now pinch uncomfortably at his underarms. He can't wait to discard it all, to take off the whole damn lot - and these fucking shoes - and pretend for just one moment that he's not who he is.

So, he begins to shed the skin of Detective Tim Rockford.

The shoes go first. The jacket second. And then he removes his gun, stashing it in its case where it belongs and throwing his holster at his closet, where he'll no doubt struggle to find it again tomorrow. The burning sear of a shower is the last thing left to rid himself of the title that hangs over him, but instead he walks to his office. He needs to be Detective for just a moment longer.

It's tidier and more comfortable in here than it has any right to be. Dark wood, soft leather, neat folders, and blank papers. Of course, it's neat because he's rarely here to use it, preferring to use the space given to him downtown where a plaque sits on his desk telling all and sundry that Detective Tim Rockford works here. Here, in this room, he can be a little less Detective and a little more him.

He flops heavily into his chair, a move he immediately regrets when he feels the relief of taking the weight off his feet. How he'll ever get up from here, he doesn't know. Maybe he'll sleep here. Halfway between Detective and himself, stuck in some weird limbo where he is both and neither all at once. That'll lead to some good dreams.

Tim thinks of you. This was the place for that kind of thing, after all. This office where he is himself and someone else, the perfect parts of a person to be liaising with someone like you. Because that's what it was with you, a liaison. Nothing more, nothing less. And you, everything that you were, were his last chance for some good news before he peeled back the rest of the Detective and became himself for a few blissful hours.

Pulling a card from a drawer, he flips it in his fingers once, then twice before tapping it on his desk. You'd given it to him on his last visit - your address and number emblazoned on the front, both things he no longer needed to see to know, and a small list of services on the other side. Services that he ignored when you'd first pointed them out to him with a wink, but that he'd since spent a long time mulling over and, on occasion, searching in an incognito window of his browser.

With a heavy sigh, he picks up the phone, dialing your number from memory, and waits for you to pick up. Anyone else would be furious with a 4am phonecall, but not you. For a while he thought it was what suited your work best - common sense, and his years on the job, had taught him that illicit activities so often were better suited to darkness than daylight. But he'd seen clients leave your studio in the middle of the day on more than one occasion. No, by this point he simply suspected you didn't sleep at all.

A click of the call connecting, a soft breath down through the line, and there you are, the lilt of your voice ringing through his ear like music.

"Detective Rockford, how nice of you to call. What can I interest you in this fine morning?"

He pinches his nose, card still gripped tightly between his middle fingers. You did this every time, no matter the time of day or night. You were always on, always ready to try to rile him and get into his bloodstream. He'd admonished you once, told you he was only trying to do his job and he expected you to do the same. When you told him you were doing your job, Tim had to admit you got him there. You were both professionals, just in very, very different ways. From then on, he'd learned to appreciate it. Even if it did make him ache sometimes in ways he thought best to ignore.

"You got any news for me?"

You scoff down the phone. A light sound, but he can picture you rolling your eyes with it anyway. "Always so charming, Detective. Diving straight in without any foreplay at all. You can do better than that. Sweeten me up a little before you -"

"Please."

He sounds desperate in a way you haven't heard before. A year into your arrangement and he'd never sounded so bone tired and stressed out. You can even hear the pinch in his brow over the phone, the wrinkles there getting deeper and deeper the longer you knew him.

"It's been quiet, Detective. I doubt I have the names you're after, but a few whispers have been floating around. The case with the cat still causing you problems?"

From the heavy sigh he gives you can tell it's not what he was after, but that it is, indeed, still causing him problems.

"Well, I heard that..."

And so, you divulge your secrets, secrets that aren't really yours to have or to give, but you give them anyway. Whispers and names softly delivered down the phone line where he scribbles them down on a blank sheet of paper, careful not to indent the pages below it.

The pen clatters to the desk when you finish. You both know you haven't given him what he needs, but if Tim's honest with himself he isn't always sure what he needs from you any more. Though, he knows what he wants. Yes, he's frequently made painfully aware of what he wants.

"Anything you need?" he asks, his voice sounding tight with frustration. You can't blame him any more than you can hold back the laugh that trickles from your lips.

"Nothing right now. Here I was thinking that was my line anyway, Detective. The things I could do for you, if you'd let me."

Tim's eyes are drawn to the card again, now face up on the desk beside the scrawl of information you'd just given him. Truth be told, your services are as emblazoned in his mind as the details on the front of the card. Sometimes, like right now, he could barely get that list out of his mind long enough to think straight.

That's the moment when, after a long day at the end of an even longer week, part Detective but part just him, he gives in to what he's been fighting himself for for almost a year, and clears his throat.

"Like what? What... what exactly could you do for me?"

You're caught between surprise and glee, briefly straightening where you lounge in your chair. Softening back into the plush fabric, you dance a finger across your lower lip, wry smile tugging at your mouth as you think of the very many things you could do for him.

"Oh, Detective Rockford. I thought you'd never ask."

Nerves were coiling in his belly in a way they typically only did at the end of a big case. There was no judge or jury here, no sentence, no surprise acquittal. There was just your door, and the promise of everything that lay beyond it.

And it made him nervous.

He was in half a mind to walk away, but it was too late. His knuckles had already rapped against the wood, and you were already flicking the latch on the other side, readying to let him in.

When you do he's stunned, just like he always is when he sees you. This time you're half naked, a thin robe draped over your shoulders and left untied at the front. Beneath it you're wrapped in soft mesh lingerie, your nipples visible through the fabric as you beckon him inside.

The space - your studio - was a simple office unit in an undesirable part of town, but you made it work. As funny as it felt to admit, it was familiar to him now, and there was a comfort in that that was already easing the swell of nerves in his body. It wasn't always this way, of course, that first visit being eye opening both figuratively and literally. Furniture and furnishings that were odd were now somewhat normal, and the soft, rich, scent that permeated the room was one that he now associated only with you and this place you existed within. It was a smell too, he notices, that is so much stronger today than it has ever been on any of his previous visits, and he breathes in deeply, both to savor it and to calm the last of the nerves vibrating in his core.

When you shut the door, closing off the world outside, you stand before him again, looking a picture of sultry confidence as you size him up. This wasn't something that was new. You often stood there, letting your gaze wander up and down his body, lingering in places that made him flush red as you taunted him with flirty quips he'd ignore. This time is no different, and he finds himself mesmerized by the way you toy with the ties on your robe as you eye him, fingers gliding up and down the fabric.

"Are you here on your business, or mine, Detective?" you say with a smile, drawing his gaze from your fingers to your face. It was a long running joke, something you said each and every time he visited you here, despite the answer always being the same. But today, finally, it would be different.

Tim rolls his eyes, just as he always does, but instead of replying with a curt mine, he lets a smile pull at his lips instead. "Yours."

"Music to my ears. And you still want to do this? You're ready?"

You both knew that had a double meaning. In the literal physical sense, he knows he's as ready as he could possibly be. But he still takes a moment to check in with himself, to see if going through with all of it is something that he still wants. If those whispers down the phone, whispers that had quickly turned from flirty promises to guidance, to gasps, to relief, were what he still wanted. Would it be worth it, or was it a momentary blip of weakness and want? But then he remembers that relief once again, the soothing of that ache like sitting down off of pained feet, and can only imagine how much better that will feel here, with you, in this room. He's ready.

Tim nods, prompting you to take another step forward. The smell isn't the room at all, he notices. It's you. The fragrance clinging to your hair or your skin, he's not sure, but so much stronger each time you move.

"Good," you say on your slow approach. Barely a step from him you reach out, tugging on his jacket and straightening his tie before letting your palm rest on his chest. The soft stroke of your fingers does nothing to soothe the rapid hammering of the muscle pumping in his chest cavity, but you suppose it wasn't meant to. You wanted him excited and desperate for it. He'd already shown you how beautiful he could be for you over the phone - all whines and whimpers and yes ma'am's. Now you wanted the real thing.

"Why don't you get all of this off for me."

Before now, Tim had wondered how you started these things - how you went from 0 to seemingly 100 with clients to get them in through the door and out in the allotted time frame. He hadn't expected it to be so quick, or so easy. Maybe he just hadn't expected himself to be so quick, or so easy, but he's tugging at his tie before you even move away to settle against your desk with your ankles crossed.

"That's it, Detective," you prompt, letting your robe slip from your shoulders and pool at your elbows as he stuffs the tie into his pocket. "I want to see all of you."

And he wants you to see all of him. He wants to take off everything that makes him Detective Tim Rockford right in front of you, and have you take control, tell him what to do, make his mind blissfully empty. So, first he kicks off his shoes, then he takes off his jacket. Slowly, his shirt is peeled from his body, the nerves racketing up again with each button. He doesn't look how he did 10 years ago, he was less lean and more soft than he had ever been, the middle aged spread proving to be a fact of life he couldn't escape.

You know what he's thinking as his fingers stall on the last few buttons of his shirt. You'd dealt with these insecurities before, in countless other clients. You weren't immune to similar thoughts either. But, he'd told you he wanted to let go, to give up control with you, so you nod to the remainder of his clothes and prompt again.

"Come now. Let me see."

Tim's fingers work quickly over the last buttons and pull the shirt from his broad frame just as quickly, giving no time for the nerves to take root. You voice the sound of your smile the moment his shirt is discarded and he looks up to see your appraisal. Each button had drawn your eyes down his chest, to the soft swell of his belly, and further still to the growing bulge in the front of his pants. Tall and broad and beautiful, the mass of man in front of you had the power to catch your eye even fully clothed, but now, shirtless with the promise of more on the horizon, you couldn't ignore the thrill at seeing so much of his tanned skin, littered with freckles and a soft smattering of hair.

His belt is unbuckled and off, and his fingers are pulling open the button of his pants and his fly. He doesn't look at you again. He can't right now - if he does he'll choke up and stop himself, feeling entirely inadequate offering this body of his to you. Pushing down his pants, down past soft thighs and strong calves, he steps out of them, taking his socks with them with each step, before nervously scratching at his belly.

Only then, does he look back up at you. You're enraptured, and have already pushed back off your desk, circling him to look at every inch of his body. You'd dimmed the lights slightly, as you always did for client sessions, but even in the soft lamplight he looked stunning. Your fingers trace the swell of his bicep, across his shoulder and the jut of his shoulder blade. A shudder runs down his spine as your fingers dance across it, down to the dimples at his back and over his hip before you round him again where your fingertips rest on his soft belly and the trail of hair there.

"You've been hiding all of this from me for how long, Detective?" you whisper, letting your fingers glide down further and further with each word. "It makes me wonder what else you're hiding."

Tim's cock twitches in his boxers, the thin fabric straining more and more with each passing moment under your gaze. He'd never felt so seen, so appraised, before. The way you looked at him was so easy, the shine in your eye so bright as he peeled back each layer.

"You still want this?"

It's what he said he'd wanted. Days ago now, but he'd said he wanted it and he did. He does. He swallows thickly, desperate to get moisture back into his mouth, nodding a croak of a yes.

At that, you slide the tip of your finger into the waistband of his boxers and pull, stretching the elastic a fraction before releasing, pinging it sharply against his skin.

"Then get these off too, Detective."

His boxers are on the floor a second later, his cock springing free semi-hard between his legs. Raising your hands to your face, you gasp in faux shock, hiding your very real delight behind your hands as you take in his entire naked form.

"Oh, Detective Rockford. I'm disappointed. After all this time you've been hiding that from me?" you gasp, and while Tim can't help but roll his eyes, his cock betrays him and stiffens even more at your words. You'd been through it all with him. Your services, yes, but also specifically what he wanted from you, some of which you'd discovered together on the phone that morning. This was one of those things - a thing you'd discovered on a whim, but something you both knew he would like before the words left your lips. There was a reason he was asking you for this and nobody else - Tim knew the specific brand of sordid you dealt in and, more than anything, he trusted you. Unfortunately for him, you planned on keeping exactly to your word from that call and, guiding your fingers down his bare chest, you tease closer and closer to his length.

"Tsk. Such a shame I won't be playing with it today."

Tim groans, a gasp of a thing he cuts short with a pinch of his lips. He's frowning again too, but nods, knowing that what he came here for wasn't that, but also very aware of the weight of the words you used. Not today, but not never.

Then, your robe is off and you're guiding him to the bed, where he lowers himself and leans back, watching your form as it retreats into the other room. He looks down, down at the body you'd just spent minutes looking at and enjoying, and wonders what you see that he doesn't. All he knows is he's trusted your word for as long as he's known you, and it's no different now. Whatever you see in him, you at least believe it to be true, and that alone makes it easier for him to believe himself. Before he can figure much or anything else out, you're sauntering back into the room.

In your hands you hold a few things. None of them should be surprising to him, but he still sucks in a sharp breath when he sees it - the strap you'd picked out just for him. You'd told him about it over the phone, said that you had the perfect one for him, that you could picture him beneath you taking it, moaning and shaking as you fucked him, and now there it was, exactly as you described. This was never something he felt able to ask for with anyone else, his ex-wife especially. It's true he was always married more to his job than to her, but even in the privacy of their own bedroom he had secrets and wants he could never share with her - she made that much clear early on. With you, he didn't even need to mention it first for you to suggest it to him, didn't even need to feel the heat of shame in his cheeks as he struggled to find the words for what he wanted, because there you were already with all the answers.

You settle everything beside him, letting him see the soft, slender, curve of the dildo up close for the first time, and pass him a bottle of water. Tim takes it, grateful that once again that it was another thing he didn't have to ask for, and cracks open the lid, taking a deep gulp of the cold liquid before setting it out of the way. Another day he'd wonder how it got to this - how on earth Tim Rockford got so used to suffering in silence that even thirst wasn't something he'd remedy until he was desperate. But, right now all he knows is the heat of your body and the smell of your skin as you kneel next to him on the bed, looking down at him with a smirk on your lips.

"Usually I ask people how they'd like it," you whisper, stroking gently down his neck, "but I think we both know you'd like it on your knees, Detective." You twirl your finger in the air, signalling for him to move, and like the good little thing he is, he shifts onto his hands before crawling forward slightly to perch on all fours on the bed.

You think he looks glorious; he feels so exposed - entirely naked for you while you're draped in that thin mesh he can see right through. He doesn't want to think about how he looks like this, on his knees with his ass on total display, his cock hanging low and, already, starting to leak precum.

Blunt nails drag down his back, softly scraping down his ass cheeks and the backs of his thighs. He shudders. You can see his cock where it bobs between his legs, and his balls where they hang softly just beneath the cleft of his cheeks. If he were a different client, maybe you'd give in and drag your nails across the soft flesh of them too, cup them in your palm and give them a firm squeeze, but you resist. Whatever this is doing to you, you'll deal with later. For now, this is for him and that desperate man, the Detective, who had all but begged you for information down the phone.

Grabbing at the small selection of things you'd dumped next to him, you get ready. Tim watches, eager eyes looking as you pull a black nitrile glove down your hand and snap it around you wrist, wiggling your fingers at him when you spot his gaze.

"I can tell you're excited," you say with a look down to his ass where his cock bounces hard against his belly with a tense of his muscles. "You're so ready for this too, aren't you? You've been waiting so long..."

Guiding your ungloved hand down his ass, you squeeze, gripping the flesh and pulling him apart, exposing him to your gaze. "Very pretty."

Tim huffs a laugh, not believing for a second that he is pretty at all, let alone like this, or there.

"What? You don't think you're pretty, all bent over and exposed for me, Detective? I'd argue you've never looked better."

"Right. Is this how you get all your information? Your clients must tell you all sorta things, huh? Vulnerable like this."

A swift, sharp slap is delivered to his right ass cheek, making him gasp as you tut and soothe the sting with your palm. "Ah-ah, Detective, you're off the clock. No work talk. We're here on my business now, not yours."

"Fu- Never off the clock, not in my line of work."

"And that's exactly why you're here, sweetie."

"...Yes ma'am."

There's a small delighted giggle that you just can't hold back, a sound that makes him flush, before you speak again. "Polite and pretty. Are you ready for me, Detective?"

It's then he realizes that your hand hasn't stopped its slow, steady caress of his ass cheeks, pushing and pulling him apart as you watch the tension leave his shoulders. He nods, trying not to brace himself for whatever is coming first, not hearing the click of a lube bottle through the blood rushing in his ears, but definitely feeling the cool trickle of it when it drips onto his asshole.

"That's it," you say, soothing with your ungloved hand, as your gloved one comes down to stroke the pucker of his ring. "We both know you're familiar with this feeling, Detective. Are you going to let me in here?"

The wet swipe of your finger between his cheeks almost feels like it could be cool, cold tongue with how you swirl it around and around his asshole. He tries not to curl his toes, and manages not to until he can't help but beg, a small please falling softly from his plush lips, and you immediately push, sinking the tip of your finger into his ass.

Tim groans, gripping the sheets in an effort not to surge forward and away from the gentle probe of your finger.

"Make all the noise you need to, Detective."

"Fuck."

Your finger steadily sinks into him, drawing out and in to collect more lube as you drizzle it onto his hole.

"Remember how this feels?"

He remembers. Remembers the crackle of your voice over the phone line as you told him to finger his ass. How his hands had scrambled to turn on speakerphone, the other still wrapped around his cock, jerking weakly as you whispered filthy encouragement down the line. Before even that, he remembers the nights spent in his own bed, concocting his own fantasies while he fucked his fist and fingers in tandem.

Except, your fingers feel so much different from his own, can reach places his cannot, and he's groaning with his head hung low between his shoulders before you're even knuckle deep.

Curling this way and that, you feel him from the inside out. Soothing him with a hand on his back, you can feel the deep breath he takes just as the tip of your finger collides with a spot inside him he was all too familiar with, massaging back and forth until he's a groaning mess.

"Oh, well that's a pretty sound, Detective. It sounds to me like you want another."

If he closes his eyes, he can see it, see the black of your gloved hand curled into a fist as your index finger stretches his hole. He can see already as you pull out a little, unfurl another finger, and slide it next to the first, ready to push into him again.

And he takes it, letting out a shuddering gasp, as your fingers fuck into his ass once again, scissoring in him before pushing down and beginning a slow curl against that spot again.

"There. That was easy. I think someone is enjoying this quite a bit, aren't you, Detective?"

There's no denying it, he is. The feel of your hand making him want to buckle into a heap on the bed already and you'd barely even started.

"Yeah. It's - ah fuck - it's good. That's - uh - not fair."

You'd been curling and prodding against his prostate as he tried to talk, making him garble words at you as you watch his cock get more and more engorged between his thighs. "What's not fair?" you ask, with a firmer press down into the spot, and you relish in the deep gravelly moan that grumbles from his chest, forcing his elbows to drop down onto the mattress.

When his hips buck forward, you place a steadying hand on his back, stroking soothing circles with your bare fingers over the dimples in his skin whilst your gloved ones curl into the spot again and again. Part of him is longing to reach down and grab his cock, to jerk it and come all over his fist with your fingers buried in his ass, but that's not what he's here for. Each time he opens his eyes he's made aware of what he's here for by the strap that still lays next to him. If he comes too soon, he's scared that'll be it over, the relief he was really seeking from you still totally out of reach by his own failure. He couldn't, wouldn't, fail at this too.

"Just look at you, Detective. You're getting so wet already." He is. He can feel it. His cock is dripping, beads of precum collecting on his tip and threatening to make a mess of the sheets below. Nodding and groaning and squeezing his eyes shut seem to be all he can do already, feeling like a total mess of a man with your voice like honey trickling into his ear. "So good. I think you can take one more finger. That's it, just one more. Good. Good boy."

He preens, back arching with the praise, cock definitely dripping onto the sheets now, three of your fingers curling and thrusting into his ass. He throbs, the ache of arousal thrumming through him with no relief, just building and building and building with nowhere to go, because you don't let it. You control it, each press of your fingers still so achingly slow that it can make him drip and ache but never explode.

A thin sheen of sweat is coating his body, his legs shaking, forehead pressed into the cool sheets, groans falling wantonly from his mouth, by the time you gingerly pull your fingers from him. That in itself feels like a relief, he thinks. Even though he's still painfully hard at least, for one moment, he's not being worked up and up to an edge you won't quite let him over just yet.

But the strap beside him is gone when he looks up, pushing up on shaky hands to look around for you again. Now, it sits on your hips, straps pulled taught over the mesh of your lingerie. You're pulling a condom over the length of dildo, rolling it down to the base, your glove discarded somewhere he can't see. His mouth is dry again, so he reaches for the water, swallowing deeply, wiping away an errant drop from the scruff of his beard.

He can't stop looking. Between your face, your beautiful face, your scantily clad body, your hands and those fingers that had just been inside him, the cock between your legs. He's entranced. It takes a gentle hand on his shoulder for him to notice you're talking to him.

"Look at you, Detective," you hum down to him, and all he can think is Yes. Look at me. Please. Here he was, stripped bare as a man could be, seen by you in ways he'd never been seen. And that name - a taunt coming from you that he longed for rather than loathed. Each tease of Detective a reminder that with you he could be both and neither all at once, just as he always was.

He reaches for you then. Slowly. Delicately. Fingers bridging the gap between you. Usually you'd step back, move away from grasping hands when permission wasn't granted. But, you let him touch, his fingers resting on your mesh covered hip and stroking you. It's the first time he's ever touched you, and it's so soft. You're so soft.

"You're ready for it, aren't you?" you ask, your eyes lazily dragging down to the strap between your legs where his follow.

Without word, and avoiding the mess already splattered on the sheet, he moves back to all fours, his hand leaving you cold. Slicking more lube across the strap, you kneel behind him, palming his ass with both hands, rubbing soft circles down his thighs as you gently rut against the crevasse of his ass.

"Do you trust me, Detective?"

It's a stupid question - stupid because you already know the answer, and so does he.

"You're kidding, right?" he says in disbelief, looking around to see the coy smile on your face.

"Humor me."

"Of course I do."

With his eyes still on you, you press forward, hand steadying the dildo to slip the tip into his slick asshole.

"Oh. That's it. Look at me when I fuck your ass. That feels so good doesn't it?"

Tim pants, nodding as you bear forward. The strap is barely thicker than your three fingers, but his rim still stretches and pulls as you breach him, slowly, steadily, until the entire length is buried in his ass.

"There we go. That's it. I'm all the way in. You take an ass fucking so well, Detective. Are you sure you haven't done this before?" With another roll of your hips he's gasping again, dropping his face to the sheet. The heat of his thighs are against yours and you know, you just know, that his cock is straining, his balls begging to empty already.

"There we are. That's it. You can take it. Oh, good boy. You like that don't you. You like being a good boy."

With his cheek is pressed to the mattress, you can see nothing but the pinched look of ecstasy on his face. It's boiling in his veins too, the heat spreading up his back and burning his cheeks. If he opens his eyes he'll see you, looking down with intent at his ass as you slowly roll your hips into him, and the thought alone makes him groan, brings him so close to coming that he's scrambling for purchase on the bed again, desperate gasps rattling out of him. The cloying scent of you is all over him - stuck in his lungs like molasses, each deep breath in of you coinciding with each slap of your hips against his ass until desperation turns to pleading.

"Please. P-please. Fuck. Please."

"Please what?" you say, looking around at him. And that's when you see his cock, angry and weeping, splattering cum all over your sheets. You hadn't felt him come yet, there'd been no tensing of his muscles or twitching of his cock, just a steady stream of precum dripping from him like a leaky faucet. "Oh, look at that. You're making quite the mess, aren't you, sweetie? Are you going to clean that up? Hm? Or will I have to bill the city for my laundry?"

"Oh, fu-," he pants, and you feel a shiver trickle down his back at the empty threat, his palms pressing harder into the mattress beneath him as his shoulders draw back. He's going to come. You don't even need to move, you could just talk to him in that voice of yours, call him a good boy and tell him how dirty he is and he'd be gone, skyrocketing to a place he'd never been and making a glorious mess of everything.

"What was that?" You slow down the roll of your hips, drawing him back from that edge you'd been dangling him so deliciously over.

"No. No. Don't - Fuck."

"Then you'll have to clean up your mess."

You swipe your finger through the cum that has steadily dripped from his cock and onto the sheet below, and lean forward to bring it to his lips, pressing your hips further and further into his ass. There's a sticky sheen of sweat on his back that slicks you together, and you can't resist. You kiss him. Soft lips pressing into the muscle of his shoulder, waiting for that moment he parts his lips in a voiceless moan to slip your finger inside. His tongue laves around your digit, tasting himself on the salt of your skin and he groans, vibrating desperate sounds from his chest to yours as you fuck so deep he's seeing stars.

"That's it, that's a good boy," you coo, dragging your finger from his mouth, leaving a trail of saliva across the scruff of his cheek.

"It's such a shame I have no use for your cock when it looks so pretty, Detective," You say, lifting your leg to fuck more deeply into him. "Look at it, all drippy and useless. You're going to come, aren't you? Even without touching your cock, you're going to come and make even more of a mess."

"Yes. Fuck, yes. Don't stop."

The steady slap of your hips picks up, and you're panting with exertion now too. You could've had him coming in five minutes, but that was no fun for you. You'd waited too long for this not to drag it out, not to see how long he could hold off for you, how much of a desperate mess he could be before he was begging for release. This was it. His limit. You'd found it, and his groans were suddenly impossible to ignore, shooting white hot heat into your own core, making you feel slick with want as you fucked him. You need him to come, before your need for more friction clouds your brain and you need to slip your hand between your own legs before he even leaves.

"Such a pretty ass to ruin. Come for me, Detective. Oh, fuck. Come for me."

He stops breathing. He thinks he's died. He has to have. You think you've killed him. But then his whole body tenses and he groans out a sob, biting sheets and spitting them out over and over as he comes, and comes, and comes. You don't stop, each shuddering sob of a gasp spurring you on until he's milked dry and almost prone on the mattress.

"That's it. That's it. You did it. Good boy. Well done, Detective. Well done."

He feels so soft. His bones must have turned to dust and spurted out of his cock with that final thrust of the strap in his ass. He's never been this weightless, never been this carefree. There's not an ache in him, just pure bliss, and he's so relieved he could cry.

And you're there. Pulling out of him slowly, wiping down his back, his thighs, with a damp towel, cooling him before you dry him with another, bringing water to his lips for him to drink. Pushing his hair back from his forehead, you guide him onto his back, letting him lie down and take a moments rest you know the man wouldn't take any other time. You're fairly certain he doesn't sleep. Detective Rockford works too hard because he cares too much, you know that. And you also know he doesn't care for himself. That is why he's here, even if he'd never say so himself.

"Up you get, sweetie. It's cold. Let's get something on you," you're whispering to him all too soon. Tim's lost, the concept of time gone from his body entirely, but he supposes it has been too long, his time is up. He only paid for an hour of your time, and even that seemed much more valuable than the price you'd put on it. He should go.

When he sits up he's lethargic, reaching for his clothes as he shuffles to the end of the bed. He doesn't know you're holding a robe out for him, strap discarded. He doesn't see the concern in your eyes because he suddenly can't meet them. "Should get going, I guess."

"No. You shouldn't. Stay."

Tim looks up to you then, seeing you wrapped and fully covered for the first time in the year he's known you. You're no more on the job right now than he is, he realizes, blinking in confusion at the robe you toss next to him.

"Look, I've taken up enough of your time, I don't want to overstep -"

"I'm not asking you to stay as a client, Detective. I'm asking you to stay as a friend. Stay. Talk to me." And you say it because god knows you mean it. You want him to stay and you want him to talk as much as you know he needs it, that gap he'd bridged with his hand now being bridged by you, and your simple request that he stay.

"Some friend to have."

"A good friend to have, Tim.”

“- I didn't mean - I meant me, I -”

“The point still stands either way," you say. And you mean that too. "Stay."

And that's it. There he is. Stripped back, just like he wanted. No more Detective. Just Tim. And there you are. Sitting on the blanket draped sofa, looking him straight in the eye. You don't need to look down to see him, and he doesn't need to look up to see you.

Grabbing the robe, Tim drapes it around himself, walking on unsteady feet toward you, the mess of the sheets and his life forgotten for one more second.

"Decaf? Might not have all the answers. But I do have coffee. And that's a start."

"Yeah," he says as he sits beside you. "Yeah, that's a start."

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @corazondebeskar-reads

also a little sneaky tag if you showed interest in my snippet the other day 💛 @heareball @nerdieforpedro @missredherring @survivingandenduring

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[NEXT PART]

Okay I'm trying to be brave and post this before I chicken out, first time writing a fic, and I'm not sure if this is any good.

So, since I don't have time to draw out all of the revenant au story, but I still want to share it, I'm writing it instead.

Will continue this if people are interested!

[this isn't requiered but reading the comic might help you understand this better]

[also there's a Soap pov version of this by Badolmen, it doesn't line up 100% because we didn't work together but it's very very good and you should read it regardless]

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking, Ghost.”

He shifted in his place. Can never get used to Price’s voice in his head.

“You know I work best alone. All he’s gonna do is get in the way.” 

Price’s mustache twitched, as if he’s fighting a smile. Bastard is about to drop something to win the entire argument, Ghost already knows.

“He’s a revenant. Strong one too.” 

Fucking figures. Still, he could argue he doesn’t need any support-

“Intel is rigged with explosives. And the Sergeant just so happens to be explosion-proof.”

…Fuck.

Ghost sighs heavily like he was presented with an unreasonable amount of shit to deal with. He watches as Price sits there, shit eating grin spitting at him. He looks back to the folder, at the details of this already annoying mission, “you said there are 2 buildings?”

Price snaps from his self boasting to confirm “one suspected barracks and the other an abandoned warehouse. Warehouse contains the majority of explosives.” 

Finally finding something to work with, Ghost straightens his back to his usual self-assured posture, “the Sergeant can deal with the warehouse, I’ll clear the barracks. No need to work together.”

Price seems less happy about that. Serves him right. He sighs and drags a hand over his face, and Ghost almost feels bad for ruining his plan to get him to play with a team. Almost.

“Will it kill you to try and work with the lad?” Price asks offhandedly, while organising the folder back to the never-ending pile of documents on his desk.

“You mean again?” Ghost would wear his own shit eating grin if his face wasn’t permanently covered.

Price still seems equally pissed. Probably saw it in his literal mind’s eye. “Get out of my office Lieutenant, wheels up at 0500.” He gets up and walks around his desk to face Ghost, “don’t scare the kid off alright? I have a feeling you two could mash well together.”

Ghost tilts his head and projects the most doubt he could muster at Price. “Yes sir.”

This is going to be a bloody long day.

It’s not that Ghost hates people per se, it’s just that most of them seem hell-bent on being annoying, disruptive, or boring. Useless on the field for someone of his caliber, and even more useless off-field.

He knows he’s not exactly easy to relate to, but he couldn’t care less about trying to be. He’s here for one purpose. And it’s not “making friends” or whatever Price and Gaz has been trying to push him towards.

He wonders which category the Sergeant currently standing in front of him will fall into. By his fidgeting nature and easy smile, Ghost would put his money on “annoying”.

The Sergeant, “Soap” apparently (Ghost wonders if that callsign was given to him before or after he died a probably painful death), now directs that smile at him, seemingly undeterred by the giant man wearing a skull like a stereotypical grim reaper. He has to give it to the lad, at least he hides his discomfort well.

“You must be Ghost, eh? Let’s get ourselves a win LT” The Sergeant says with an obvious Scottish accent, fist-bumps his shoulder and walks off towards transport.

Oh, annoying is definitely winning.

Despite that, Ghost can’t feel like Soap really fits it. He’s unlike the other muppets in the category, He’s not poking him like the rookies do, trying to make him reveal his powers.

No, the Sergeant is annoying like an overly friendly dog is to someone that doesn’t want to be licked. He’s acting like they’re just two normal soldiers on their way to a normal mission, not the unnatural, unexplainable phenomena they actually are.

Ghost will have to keep watching. Certainly on field he will be able to find out his true colors.

On the helo, Ghost picks his usual spot near the ramp, where the lights don’t reach as much and most prefer not to sit, and observes Soap. His fidgety nature stayed the same, but the carefree expression he wore on ground morphed into a determined one, face stern and serious. He seemed lost in thought, eyebrows twitching here and there. He sees how his fingertips flicker, watching flames dance between them before the rapid movements put them out.

Well, at the very least Soap doesn’t fall into “boring”.

Clearing the barracks is a laughably easy job, even without using his powers. Although, it would’ve been so much faster with them… too bad he doesn’t hate the Sergeant enough to send him to Limbo.

They practically run through both buildings, untouchable storms. Ghost has to admit, Soap is clearly competent, disarming bombs and taking down hostiles at an impressive rate.

God, he hates when Price is right.

“Ground floor clear, heading to the basement” Soap relays on comms. 

“Copy, clearing third floor, keep an eye out for Intel.” 

“I have to say LT, you’re not quite like I expected.”

Feeling’s mutual, Ghost thinks to himself. “That so?”

“Aye, you’re not a major cunt for starters.”

That startled a small huff out of him. What the hell do the rumors say about him? He would have to ask Gaz about that, “Could still change that Sergeant.” he mock-lectures him.

A small laugh is what he gets in return, “I doubt that. I’ve worked with some bastards before, you barely make top 50.”

“Only 50? I hoped for at least 20”

“Got work cut out for you then, sir”

“That I do.”

Ghost continues clearing the floor methodically before faltering for a moment. Why was he entertaining the Sergeant like that? Since when does he joke with people? 

Though, he would’ve done it more if he had someone so ready to joke back…

Useless thoughts. 

Cursing Price, Soap, and all other stupid distracting things swirling in his head, Ghost takes down another hostile.

The mission is going without a hitch. Which is usually when something “hitches”.

A couple of minutes after Soap’s last words, Ghost sees a bright light flash from the warehouse, before a soundwave shakes the windows of the now barren barracks.

One of the explosives went off… “Soap, what the hell happened there?”

No answer.

Ghost knows he’s fine. Price wouldn’t brag about how “explosion-proof” he is otherwise. But he’s not answering…

“Sergeant, give me sitrep, now.”

Ghost stands still for another minute, listening to static. He checked the last room right before the explosion went off, so he just has to go to exfil and wait for the Sergeant at this point. His part of the work is done.

He should just go to exfil.

Ghost climbs down the stairs and heads for the warehouse, a foreboding plume of dark smoke billowing from its roof.

If asked why he didn’t ignore his gut feeling and use his brain like always, he wouldn’t have an answer.

Maybe he just wanted to exchange one more joke with the Sergeant before they finish the mission and never see each other again.

Arriving at the doors, he sees how the ground floor caved in, creating a ramp down to the basement. He starts making his way down, when he sees bodies littering the debris. Was Soap ambushed?

“Soap? Where the fuck are you Sergeant!” Ghost shouts. He has half a mind to be quiet, not wanting to attract enemies to their location, before realizing no one would’ve survived this. No one but-

“LT…?”

“Soap, why weren’t you answering comms- what…”

He stumbles upon Soap. Soap, who's laying on the grey concrete floor, wheezing and shaking, a metal rebar in his hands. Ghost walks closer and realizes the rebar is going through his stomach and pinning him to the floor. 

The Sergeant’s eyes blearily look at the metal “I need, I n-need to get this out…”

He lifts himself half an inch and Ghost sees how the blood rushes out of the wound, how Soap pales. 

Ghost rushes to his side. “Stop fucking moving”, he slides his hands under his torso, feels his gloves getting soaked in blood, “let me help you”.

Soap’s breathing becomes less harsh, and he looks up at him, “you… you don’t have to-”

He slowly lifts Soap before he can say another useless remark. The muscles under his fingertips clench and the Sergeant chokes out a scream.

“Fuck” Soap mutters between pants. 

“We’re halfway there, you’re doing good.” Ghost lets him rest before continuing to lift his body up. The blood keeps rushing out of the wound, enough that he doesn’t understand how Soap is still conscious. The sergeant let go of the rebar, and is now gripping Ghost’s forearms like he’s about to fall to his death.

After a few seconds, which Ghost is sure felt like hours for Soap, he eases him off the metal and onto the ground. Soap immediately collapses, shuddering and holding his hands around the wound.

Ghost then realizes he’s not sure how the Sergeant’s powers work. Is this supposed to even happen? Is he actually dying?

Soap looks up at that moment, giving him a small smile that looks more like a grimace, “I just… give me a minute to heal, I’ll be ready to go soon.” he uncurls and drags himself to sit against a piece of wall.

Ghost frowns and slowly steps towards Soap and slides to sit next to him, “take however long you need.”

He doesn’t look, but from his peripheral, he sees Soap’s head whipping around and staring at Ghost like he told him he’s giving him a million pounds.

He seemed to find something in his expression (however much he could even see of it), and looked down at his bloodied hands, “thank ye…”

Ghost blinks down, “I hope this doesn’t lower my cunt rank.”

Soap lets out a small laugh that turns into a fit of coughs. More blood rushes out of his wounds, and Ghost internally winces.

“Ha… I think it takes ye off the list, mate.”

Ghost heaves an over-the-top sigh, “shame”.

Soap smiles at him, and Ghost notices it’s different from the one he gave him before the helo. This one is… warmer. Or at least it makes him feel so.

Soap lifts his shirt to inspect the wound, and Ghost can’t help by take a look. The wound stopped bleeding, and when Soap wipes some of it away, he can see how it’s already closing.

So he does get hurt… it just heals. Ghost still wonders how it all works, but he knows their powers work with bizarre rules, weird exceptions and what not. He can almost hear his Reaper laughing. Or whatever you would call that chilling noise it lets out when it finds something funny.

It doesn’t matter either way. Not like he’ll get to work with Soap again. 

The Sergeant exhales and lets his shirt drop, “a’right, let’s fuckin’ finish this.” he slowly starts lifting himself up before Ghost wordlessly grabs his arms and helps him.

Soap mumbles a thanks, “did you find any intel?” 

Ghost looks ahead. The climb out of the basement won’t be easy on his wound… “Negative. We’ll keep looking.”

Eventually they reach a door labelled “storage”, that is blocked by several tonnes of concrete and metal. Ghost internally curses.

Soap, who’s been trailing behind Ghost, reaches the door and looks around. Ghost is about to ask him if he’s got a few C4’s hidden somewhere when the Sergeant asks him, “permission to use my powers, sir?”

Ghost raises an eyebrow, “what are you planning?”

“Gonna blow it up sir” Soap says like it was obvious.

“...go ahead.” Ghost replies, half baffled Price forgot to mention the Sergeant, besides being unkillable by explosions, can also create them. 

Was probably in the folder he didn’t bother reading.

He takes a step back to let Soap Have a go. The Sergeant rests his palms on the debris, inhales, and…

A loud boom makes Ghost’s ears ring. He’s momentarily blinded by the bright explosion before he regains his vision, and sees Soap stepping around the remains of the door into the small room.

Ghost shakes away his slight shock and joins him. Soap’s powers intrigue him… he wonders what else he could do.

Somehow, the intel survived the explosions. Ghost could barely care. At least they won’t have Price on their case later on. 

As they walk towards the exfil point, a heavy feeling sinks within Ghost. He’s not sure what to call it, but if he had to it would be “regret”.

Regretting what, he’s not sure. Maybe he should’ve prolonged their walk.

And from a glance at his face, Soap might understand this feeling as well.

“You did well Sergeant.” He has the sudden urge to say. Maybe it will make him regret less.

Soap casts a smile at him. It doesn’t warm him in the slightest.

The chopper blades slashing through air never made him feel worse.

“I guess this is it then.” Soap says when they land.

Ghost turned to face him. That heavy feeling in him just kept getting heavier throughout the flight. Why?

“So it seems.”

Soap stares for a moment longer before sighing. Ghost wants to do something about the annoyingly heavy air of despair around them.

“Soap” the Sergeant hums, “Why did the Scotsman’s prank fail?”.

Confusion takes over his features, “what?”

Ghost inhales, “because no one let him get away scot-free.”

Soap stares at him like he brought shame to his entire bloodline. Ghost grins like he did.

“Steamin’ Jesus LT, that was horrendous.”

“Ah Sergeant, just admit my jokes are better, no need to be a sore loser.” 

“My gran got better jokes than this, fuckin’ hell” Soap laughs.

“I’d like to meet her.”

“So you two could battle? I rather not see you die of embarrassment sir.”

Soap’s transport decides to arrive at this moment, chasing away the small joy they both found.

Soap looks back at it and turns to Ghost.

“It’s been great working with you sir.” if Ghost was feeling bold, he would say Soap almost looks sad, “I hope we’ll get to go another round later.”

Ghost hates the hopeful tone in his voice. Hope is uncertain, leaves everything up to chance.

Useless.

“Likewise, Sergeant.”

He stays standing there for a few minutes, staring at the truck vanishing towards the horizon. As if it will lighten the boulder in his chest.

“So, Simon, what’s your verdict?” Price finishes after debrief.

Ghost thinks about the entire endeavour. Not annoying, not disruptive, or boring.

Soap is…

“He’s something else…”

Critiques are welcome! Nobody beta'd this so I'm sure there are mistakes lol (that and this isn't my first language...)

[snek-panini]

Got a bit of a different bookbinding post today. @renegadeguild got an ask from a new binder saying they were intimidated by everyone's gorgeous binds (me too, actually, some of you guys are scary good), and so they've asked people to share their first binds. And I realized I'd never even taken photos of my first one, so here it is, warts and all:

This is E.M. Forster's The Machine Stops, a public domain scifi short story that you can read for free at the link. The first reason I chose it was that it's an interesting story, and I'd bought a print-on-demand copy a few years previously that was just terrible. Baffling cover choices, basic errors in the typeset (like quotes that face the wrong way), weird size that didn't fit on my shelf; just not a good product. I couldn't do it with more indifference than the PoD people. The second reason was that I was too intimidated by the thought of asking a fic writer if I could bind their story and then producing something with a thousand sloppy beginner mistakes, and then they'd want to see photos and I'd have to show them this and it would have been mortifying, but Forster has been dead since 1970 so I could not disappoint him. It was very freeing. I bound it in 2021 as an experiment, to see if I liked this hobby enough to stick to it. The cover is green cardstock and faux leather scrapbook paper that I bought at... probably Hobby Lobby. I added the title later, as a practice project when I first got my Cricut; for the first two years of its existence it had a blank cover.

There are more photos under the cut!

In this photo we can see:

--Too much glue when attaching the leather-print paper, so it oozed out onto the cover.

--Cricut font too thin and too much heat/too long of a press, so the letters have gaps and the glue also oozed out here. It's a continuing theme with this bind.

--I tried to use a bone folder to give it a sharper hinge crease and accidentally pressed too hard and tore a hole in the paper; you can see this in the little white vertical line near the top of the hinge

The fore edge is not square. I actually don't remember why this happened. I may have eyeballed the board position when I made the case, or the paper may have slipped while the glue was wet, or I cut it crooked and didn't notice till later. Either way it's bad enough that the book doesn't stand on its own. There was a crooked man/who walked a crooked mile/and found a crooked sixpence/against a crooked stile./He bought a crooked cat/which caught a crooked mouse/and they all loved together in a little crooked house, and I bet they read this little crooked book from their little crooked library.

Top view, you can see that the case is too big and the text block doesn't sit straight in it. It has no endbands or bookmark, and it's hard to see in this photo but there's glue on the top of it, at the spine. This still happens to me but I know how to trim books now so this bit gets cut off. You can also see that the scrapbook paper has some cracks where its white core is visible. This is why I do cloth or actual faux leather on the spines now. Endpaper shows uneven trim (did I not use a ruler for this??), too much glue causing major seepage, and it doesn't sit evenly in the case. I'm not sure if this is because of the case itself being crooked, a badly-trimmed endpaper, or if the text block is also crooked. Or it may be a combination of all these factors. Unclear.

Typeset photos! Here we see:

--Title page has a page number on it. This is a pet peeve of mine and I fixed it after this book.

--There is no half title, summary, or metadata. All my later binds have these things.

--It's typeset in Times New Roman. Unlike many I don't actually hate this font but reading it reminds me of being in high school so this is the only book I used it for. Baskerville is my beloved now. The font is also much bigger than it should be. It's not huge but it's like a large print book so it feels weird for me to read it.

--Lol what are margins

--Lol what are page headers

--Actually I think I left the headers out so it wouldn't have a header on the first page of each chapter, because I knew about page breaks but not section breaks at this time.

--It's on regular-ass lightweight printer paper. There's nothing wrong with this but I switched to heavier weight paper shortly after to help with bleed-through and the light stuff feels so flimsy now.

--I didn't understand how Word's book fold worked at this time, so when I had to set the sheets per booklet and it had an option for 4, I chose that thinking it would give me 4 sheets of paper (16 numbered pages) per sig. It did not do this. It gave me 4 numbered pages per sig. So every signature is 1 sheet of paper. Every page is its own signature. I am still mad about this but it sure drove home how the setting works and also how to make kettle stitches since you make one after every sig. A book of 48 pages has 12 signatures which is just ludicrous.

--There's no photo of this but it has a piece of printer paper on the spine because I didn't have mull. I did use PVA though. Lots and lots of PVA.

--It's stitched with regular sewing thread, which means it doesn't have much swell for a book with that many sigs, but it's less sturdy and more likely to tear the paper.

And that's that! It probably sounds a bit like I was tearing it to shreds but I actually love this book quite a lot. I learned so many things that I applied to my next binds, it was an invaluable experience. It let me fall in love with the hobby so I could make the awesome things I make now. I've got those all posted on my main blog under the tag #snek makes books, or you can see them all on my side blog @papersnakepress. For a first book it's functional and readable, and still better than the PoD copy I had before. I've been thinking of doing a rebind as a sort of progress gauge, actually. Maybe next year.

[berenwrites]

Summary of My Stranger Things Fanfic Year 2024

2024 was a pretty good year for fanfic for me. All Stranger Things and Steddie, because the obsession has me in its grasp.

I published 24 stories this years with a total of 85,693 words.

That's 11 more stories than last year, but under half the words, but then one story last year was over 100K and another tipped 57K.

Steddie still has my heart and looking at my WiP folder will continue to do so. Thanks to everyone who has commented on, liked, and reblogged my stories.🥰

It was also so much fun to take part in my first big bangs since back in LJ days.💖💖

Chaptered Fics

Sight: Now I See You - Steddie (COMPLETE) ~26K wds (13 ch) - PG13 The final battle with Vecna was victorious, but not everyone came out unscathed. Steve wakes up in the hospital high as a kite with something wrong with his eyes. Robin’s right there to assure him it’s nothing permanent, but something weird is going on, and he needs answers. That there appear to be two government factions in town, one of which is hunting El even though she saved the world, does not help. Neither does the feeling there’s someone watching him. It’s all a mess and Steve can’t sit back and let the others fix it by themselves.

Wolf in the Light - Steddie (COMPLETE) ~45K wds (23 CH) explicit - only on AO3 Steve has been keeping a big secret: he’s a werewolf from a long line of werewolves. Only problem is, he’s a complete failure at it. He can’t even shift, but it does make him a bit harder to kill, so he thought he’d found his perfect niche keeping the kids and his secret safe after ‘83. With their plan to end Vecna only half successful and Eddie bleeding out, he has no choice but to reveal the truth and try and convince his friends that werewolves are real. That would be enough of a task for anyone, but to his shock, his heritage has an even bigger surprise in store, and of course, there’s Max to worry about too.

One-Shots

Reborn: Facing the Unexpected - Steddie - PG - 404wds (on AO3 too) Written for steddiemicrofic January prompt: HOLE | wc: 404 The final confrontation with Vecna has come and gone, they won, but Steve can only focus on one thing...

Wake-up Call: An End or a Beginning? - Steddie - PG - 404wds (on AO3 too) Written for January 2024 prompt: HOLE | wc: 404 When you're dead, you're not supposed to wake up.

Strange Relationship: Of Sex and Revelations - Steddie - Explicit - 404wds (on AO3 too) Written for January 2024 prompt: HOLE | wc: 404 Steve is good at sex, but there are some things he hasn't been considering. Eddie is very happy to open his eyes.

Caring: Now It's Your Turn - Steddie - G - 593wds (also on AO3) Written for @steddielovemonth 2024 day 1 Steve has been looking after everyone, now it's his turn.

Revelation: A Heart-Stopping Reality - Steddie - G - 1396wds (also on AO3) Written for steddielovemonth day 3 Steve is just sitting by the pool watching his friends have fun when he comes to a stunning conclusion.

A Small Thing: The Truth Hurts - Steddie - T - 956wds (also on AO3) Written for steddielovemonth day 4. Eddie wants to know everything about Steve, and Steve has a confession to make.

Falling: Who Will Catch Me? - Steddie - PG - 509wds (also on AO3) Written for Feb prompt: EDGE | wc: 509 | PG | cw: PTSD, mentions of torture It's all over and Steve has nothing left to keep the horror at bay.

See Me: In the Silence - Steddie - G - 309wds (also on AO3) Written for steddielovemonth day 5 Steve always see what Eddie needs.

Quiet: But Far From Idle - Steddie - G - 627wds (also on AO3) Written for steddielovemonth day 6. Eddie loves when both he and Steve are in the zone.

Arms of Love: Whatever You Need - Steddie - G - 678wds (also on AO3) Written for @steddielovemonth day 8. It's July, Steve is having trouble sleeping, Eddie helps.

Closure: Rifts & Reactions - Steddie - G - 836wds - (also on AO3) Written for steddielovemonth day 12 The final battle is over, it's time to look forward.

Late Again?: Love Is Too Compelling! - Steddie - PG - 980wds - (also on AO3 soon) Written for steddielovemonth day 14. Eddie doesn't want Steve to go to work, so is trying to convince him to quit.

Always and Forever: Love Finds a Way - Steddie - G - 1237wds - (also on AO3) Written for steddielovemonth day 29. After their usual phone call while Eddie is on tour with Corroded Coffin, Steve is worried.

Best Present Ever - Steddie - G - 290wds Vecna was dead. Hawkins was no longer split open. It was time to celebrate.

Half a Dream - Steddie - G - 510 wds (also on AO3) It took Eddie until he reached the top to realise he’d been chasing only half a dream the entire time.

The Giveaway - Steddie - G - 483 wds (also on AO3) It's not anything they would have guessed that give Steve and Eddie away to their friends and family.

With Both Hands - Steddie - PG - 838 wds (also on AO3) Eddie is having trouble figuring out how he got here and believing it's real.

A Simple Question - Steddie - PG-13 - 1155 wds (also on AO3) Eddie is a little tipsy, and he has a question for Nancy.

Through Your Eyes - Steddie - PG-13 - 943 wds (also on AO3) Steve wakes up and something is definitely not right.

Suddenly There Came a Tapping - Steddie - PG - 350wds (also on AO3) Eddie has a visitor with a message.

Like Magic - Steddie - PG - 350wds (also on AO3) Something weird is going on with Steve.

Vocation - Steddie - G 532wds (Also on AO3) Eddie is Steve's vocation in life.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Remember me

Summary: You haven't been able to reach Jack since he left for a business trip, making you worried. Having no other way to contact him, you decide to drive to Statesman, unprepared to find him walking out of the building perfectly fine. You question your relationship, asking yourself if he would just ghost you after so many years of friendship until a Cowboy finds you crying in your car, and tells you everything about Statesman. And what happened to Jack.

Pairing: Agent Jack Whiskey Daniels x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.5k

Rating: G

Warnings: memory loss, Friends to lovers, little angst, some fluff

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts since December. Hope you like it (cause I'm not sure I do lol)

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“When will you be back?” you listened to his steady heartbeat, your ear on his chest. 

His arms were around you, cuddled under the warm covers of his king sized bed. 

“A week. Tops,” he hummed and you felt him kiss the top of your head. You smiled, pressing your lips to his chest. 

“I’ll miss you,” you mumbled. 

“You won’t even notice I’m gone, sugarplum.”

“Hello, This is Jack. Leave a message after the…”

You sighed, ending the call. Again. It’s been almost three weeks. 

Three weeks in which you hadn’t seen or talked to Jack. He usually finds a way to let you know, if his job takes longer. 

You did not know exactly what he was doing, but you had your suspicions. He was often gone for weeks, not being able to contact you. 

Which was a surprise when you first learned about it, being under the impression that he  was the CEO of a whiskey distillery. 

“One day I’m gonna tell you everything about it, sugarplum,” he used to say. And for whatever reason you trusted him that he would. Even way before you both finally realised that your friendship was way more than that. 

You hadn’t been together for a long time. 

But you had known Jack for years. 

The little coffee shop you owned apparently lay on the way to his work and he started stopping by almost six years ago when he moved to a little town just outside of the city. 

You would always remember the first time he stepped into your little café. 

You had seen your fair share of cowboys throughout the years but Jack? Deep down you just knew he would be trouble.

You just did not know if in a good or in a bad way. 

He had ordered a plain black coffee and a muffin for breakfast. 

“Surprise me, Sugarplum,” he’d smirked at you when you asked him what kind of muffin he wanted. And yeah, that southern charm was trouble from the first day.

After that he came in every single day on his way to work. You’d only learn that he sometimes stopped by in the afternoon too much later, one of your employees telling you that he seemed a little disappointed when he did not see you. 

He had only asked for your actual name almost half a year later.

The friendship that had formed between the two of you always lingered on the line to becoming something more. 

It started with him inviting you to go out to the farmers market out of town one saturday. 

Then you invited him for a home cooked dinner which quickly became a weekly Thursday night thing.

You started spending time at his farm outside of town too. He had beautiful horses, some cows and chickens. 

He taught you how to ride and care for the horses.

You would have thought he had a dog too, but instead he had two cats called King and Queen. 

Two very cute fluffy white cats who followed him wherever he went once he got home. 

They loved to sleep on top of Jack when you had movie night. There might be a folder of pictures in your phone just of him with the cats. 

It would take more than five years of friendship until one drunken night left you sleeping in his bed, waking up the next morning in his arms, his lips brushing over the back of your neck, asking is this okay to which you only nodded while he kissed himself down your neck until you turned in his arms so he could kiss your lips for the first time. 

He took you out for your first date that very same night. 

You had talked to each other every single day in the last months, even when he had to get away. You practically had moved into his house, leaving your apartment in the city just for the occasional nights when you were too tired to drive back to his place after work. 

Or you stayed there when Jack was gone. His house feeling way too big and empty without him. 

But earlier today you had been at his place, finding it as deserted as it had been the last weeks.

You had no idea how to contact him outside of his phone number. You did not have any information on contacting his family or friends. The latter only being two men you had met briefly throughout the years. 

What you did know however was where he worked.

You took a deep breath, exhaling through your mouth as you looked at yourself in the mirror as you got ready for work. 

You missed him. 

You loved him. 

Maybe it was time to drive to Statesman across town to finally get some answers. 

You had been staring at the entrance for an hour. 

You hadn’t planned on staring at the entrance for an hour. 

You were about to get out of your car and demand answers but then you saw him walk out of the door. 

Jack. 

He was smiling as he talked to another man, one of his friends you had met whose name you had already forgotten, before you saw him climb into his Bronco and speed off. 

Why was he ignoring your calls?

Why didn’t he let you know that he was alive and well?

A constant stream of questions seemed to go through your head, only stopped when someone knocked on your car window. 

You blinked your eyes before you let the window down, an older man, another cowboy, looking at you. 

“Evening Ma’am. I noticed that you have been waiting here for a while and I was wondering if you need any help?” he asked. 

You sighed. 

“Yes… No. Sorry. I’ll… I’ll leave,” you mumbled, still confused. 

“Are you okay?” he asked and you huffed a laugh. 

“Just asking myself if my boyfriend decided to ghost me on purpose. He’s working here, you know? Haven’t seen him in almost a month, haven’t talked to him, but I just saw him walk out of those doors, looking perfectly fine to me.”

You were rambling. 

“I haven’t even told him that I love him. I think he loved me though. We’ve known each other for a long time. Used to flirt shamelessly with me every day when getting a coffee.”

“Now hold on there  for a minute there,” the Cowboy said and your lips pressed shut, looking at the man. 

“You don’t happen to be talking about a tall Cowboy with a preference for banana strawberry muffins from that little café across town?” he asked you. 

“I bake the muffins myself,” you whispered, looking at him. 

The man sighed. 

“Jack didn’t tell me he finally got his head out of his ass and made a move on you. You might wanna come inside with me? I think you deserve some answers.”

You were staring again. 

This time not at the entrance of Statesman, but at the door of Jack’s Farmhouse. 

The house that had become a home to you more than your own apartment was. 

Agent Champagne, Champ for friends, had explained to you that while Statesman was still a distillery, it always was a front for a secret organisation. 

And Jack was one of its Agents. One of the best apparently. 

Something had happened on his last mission and the short explanation was that he had come back from the dead and might have lost more memories than the agency first thought. 

Champ had encouraged you to drive out and visit Jack. He’d apparently been talking about stopping by the next morning at the café. He had only been released from the medical wing today.

He didn’t almost die, he had been dead. 

For almost three hours before they could bring him back. 

You took a deep breath before you got out of your car, walking the familiar path towards his house. Out of habit you reached for the key he gave to you to unlock the door, stopping with a head shake before you brought your hand up to knock on his door. 

The time it took before you heard footsteps behind the door seemed like hours, giving you time to school your face into a neutral expression when the door opened, revealing Jack standing in front of you, dressed in dark sweatpants and a faded Game of Thrones shirt. Your shirt. 

His face lit up when he saw you. 

“Sugarplum, I wasn’t expecting you,” he said with a smile and you felt tears welling up in your eyes, as you smiled at him. 

“Hi Jack,” you whispered as you looked up at him and as if it was pure instinct he opened his arms for you as you took a step towards him, his strong arms wrapping around your body as he kissed the top of your head. 

“I missed you so much,” you mumbled into his shirt, feeling his arm tighten around you.

“Are you sure, you’re okay sugar?” he asked and you took a deep breath before you looked up at him, finding his eyes looking down at you with concern. 

“I think we need to talk,” you said quietly. He frowned, but nodded, before he released you to close the door. 

King and Queen were sitting on either side of you as you sat on the sofa, waiting for Jack to come back from the kitchen. He’d offered to make tea and you had agreed, using the time to gather your thoughts. 

King was climbing into your lap as Jack came from the kitchen, your favourite mug, the one he had bought you only a couple weeks ago in his hand, your favourite tea in it. 

He set the mug down on the coffee table before he sat down on the couch next to you. 

“These two usually hate people,” he hummed, his hand stroking over the fur of Queen who meowed before she laid down in between the two of you. 

“I’m not just any people,” you smiled a little and Jack smiled back. 

“No you’re not,” he said warmly. 

“How was your work trip?” you asked and if he was taken aback by your question he did not show it. 

“Longer than expected but okay in the end. I’m actually gonna stay for a while now. Got some time off,” he explained and you nodded. 

“Did I tell you about leaving town?” he frowned in the next moment.

“You did,” you whispered, your hand stroking King on your lap who was puring by now. 

“Jack, what’s the last thing you remember? About me?” you asked.

He seemed confused before he took a deep breath. 

“I… I think the last time I saw you you were cooking in my kitchen? Some roast that burnt…” he murmured. 

You nodded. 

“Okay. That was… almost three months ago. It was your birthday. And I promised to make your favourite dish,” you said as you carefully took the mug of tea to drink some. 

He looked at you as if trying to figure you out. 

“We watched Star Trek after and you told me how you hated the new ones,” you continued, but he just kept looking at you. 

“I… I don’t remember?” he said and you closed your eyes, releasing a deep breath. 

“Jack, I talked to Champ today. And he… he told me what happened to you,” you whispered, sucking your bottom lip in. 

“Why would he do that?” he asked. 

“Because usually when something happens to an Agent on the job their family or spouse is informed. But we… you hadn’t told anyone. About us yet.”

“Us?” he asked, looking at you. 

“We’re… We’re together. Or we have been until you had to leave for your last job? I’m not really sure what we are now. I mean you can’t remember me…”

“I do remember you. I just… this is…”

“A lot. I know,” you sighed, fighting down the tears as you looked at him. 

“We both… Really? I finally told you how I felt?” he asked after a while and you huffed a laugh. 

“Not really. We were both drunk and I woke up in your bed…. we kissed the first time tight then in your bed,” you explained and he nodded. 

“I was wondering whose clothes were in my wardrobe,” he said with a huff and you nodded. 

“I… you actually asked me to move in with you before you left.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

“And you had no idea what happened these last weeks. I’m so sorry,” he reached over, squeezing your hand. 

“You’re very relaxed for someone who just got told he has a girlfriend he can’t remember.”

He chuckled. 

“Let’s just say, worse things have happened on the job.”

“Gee thanks,” you rolled your eyes with a smile and he grinned. 

You sighed. 

“Well, I’m just gonna grab some stuff and leave you alone,” you gently put King from your lap, standing up. 

“Why?” Jack asked, also standing up. 

“Because you can’t remember me, Jackson,” you smiled sadly.

He shook his head. 

“I do remember you. I remember everything about you. Just not… the most important part. The part where I finally got you in my life like I’ve wanted for a long time,” he whispered, taking a step closer towards you. 

You sighed. 

“What if you help me remember?”

“What are you proposing?”

“They… They use triggers when getting someone back. They always use a picture of my late wife that usually gets my brain back in the right lane. And it worked to some extent.”

“Just not for me,” you could not help the tears escaping your eyes now and Jack came even closer, his hands framing your face, as he wiped your tears away. 

“I knew something was missing. I just did not know what,” he whispered. You closed your eyes. 

“I know that I’m in love with you though,” he said and you gasped, opening your eyes. 

“I have been since the day I took you out to the farmers market. When I saw you in that beautiful dress I’m sure my heart stopped.”

“Jack,” you smiled through your tears. 

“So you see, I do remember you. I remember everything about you. I just don’t remember finally being with you.”

“You haven’t even told me you loved me yet,” you whispered and he groaned. 

“Pre Memory loss Jack was a real dumbass,” he grinned and you chuckled. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. 

“Yes,” you breathed and then his lips were on yours. And it was if no time had passed, your arms wrapping around his broad back as you melted against him, his lips moving on yours, his moustache tickling you, making you grin against his lips. 

“I love you sugarplum,” he whispered against your lips and you smiled. 

“I love you too, Jack.”

[takaraphoenix]

🍪🍪🍪 my official ask for the Stalion WIPs 🍪🍪🍪

THANKS SO MUCH FOR ASKING! ^-^ *munches on the cookies*

There are currently seven Stalion fics in my WIP folder:

The FBI Liaison, the Mischief Monday for December 2nd

Future fic more or less in-universe, but with the canon divergence of the Alpha Pack being good and working for the Magic Council, having gone to Beacon Hills during 3A to evaluate Derek as an Alpha.

Years later, they are sent to work with an FBI liaison of the council's. Neither of them are thrilled because usually council liaisons who work for the US government are stuck up and annoying.

Until they meet the agent and realize it's Stiles.

--

The Overbooked Council Convention, originally a Mischief Monday but has since been upgraded to Wednesday Oneshot, to be posted on December 11th

I actually posted a sneak peek for this fic already, but here's the premise: Also the twist of the Alpha Pack being good and working for the Magic Council, also a future fic. But in this, Stiles was pushed out of the McCall Pack after Donovan and has been traveling the US on his own for the past three years, working as a freelancer for a bit before he got recruited by the Magic Council.

Every year, the council gathers all its representatives for a convention, an open exchange. This year is the first Stiles attends as an official representative. And the council somehow overbooked the hotel, many left without a room. Thankfully, other participants are willing to share.

Deucalion is willing to share with Stiles. Stiles is glad that Deuc is so generous and he's happy to see the Alpha Pack again, had missed them all. What Stiles doesn't know is that Deucalion's pack had come back to Beacon Hills only weeks after he had left the town, weeks after graduation, because Deucalion had every intention of courting the Spark. Finally, Deucalion has found his chosen again and this time, he wasn't going to let Stiles slip away so easily.

(This story started as a poor excuse to write "there's only one bed" with Stalion and then I developed feels and grew attached to the mentor/mentee Marin-Stiles dynamic and now I'm sitting at 7k and they still haven't gone to bed...)

--

The Demon Wolf's Distraction, an upcoming Mischief Monday

Part of the promised "at least a dozen 'Deucalion rolls into town with A PLAN but then Stiles fully hijacks that' fics" I talked about in the A/N of Smells So Sweet.

The Alpha Pack comes to town to evaluate the Hale Pack and while doing so, a curious Spark seems to be spending an awful lot of time with them. Deucalion finds Stiles far more interesting than the local pack and is soon enthralled by the inquisitive, powerful boy.

--

Sexed Up By the Demon Wolf, an upcoming Mischief Monday

Not to repeat myself, but good Alpha Pack comes to town to evaluate Derek. The Darach starts sacrificing virgins and Stiles grows very, very nervous about his v-card and the lack of willing people to take it. Deucalion has no idea how anyone could say no to that, but he is more than happy to help Stiles out.

--

Revenge Is a Meal for Two, an upcoming Mischief Monday

In this one, the Alpha Pack comes neither because of the Magic Council nor for Derek or Scott at all. Deucalion is exclusively there to get his revenge on Gerard Argent. Him and his pack want to kill the man, but they come just in time of the season 2 finale and Gerard slithering away, so they go and track him down.

Stiles, bitter and vengeful after he got kidnapped and tortured by Gerard, isn't going to let the bastard get away either and tracks him down too.

They meet for the first time when they find Gerard and kill him together.

--

How to Seduce Your Best Friend's Alpha, an upcoming Wednesday Oneshot

Stronger AU on this one; Deucalion's pack isn't an Alpha Pack, they're a regular pack - and they're not located in the US. They never come to Beacon Hills at all, instead they're the London Pack Jackson relocates to.

After the Nogitsune, Stiles and Jackson form a long-distance friendship because Stiles finds that he has an easier time talking to the former kanima about the possession than anyone else. Jackson just gets it, in a way nobody else does.

So after graduation, Stiles packs up and moves to London with Lydia to be with Jackson. That's when Stiles meets Deucalion, Jackson's Alpha, and quickly falls for the handsome, charming, powerful man.

--

Get Out of Hell (to Find a Demon), an upcoming Wednesday Oneshot

Canon divergence where the Alpha Pack never comes to Beacon Hills at all, but they are the pack Boyd and Erica run into when they flee the town. They join the pack, train with them and along the way, kill two rogue Alphas to gain Alphahood themselves and thus, their permanent place in the pack. All the while, they stay in contact with Stiles, texting and calling him.

When Stiles kills Donovan and Scott won't believe him, Stiles doesn't know what to do or who to turn to, so he calls Erica and Boyd. His friends come to pick up the pieces and the Demon Wolf opens his den to his pack members' friend, without knowing what he signs up for or how much Stiles was going to grow on him.

[tenrousei-kuroi]

Wait, wait— so you write the most wicked Starcest smut I’ve ever seen AND you’re also just a super knowledgeable and insightful person when it comes to the series, fandom history and literature?? I’m obsessed! I just read through your page and you just seem like the kind of person I could listen to talk about their interests for hours, haha. I was curious, as someone whose been in the Starcest fandom for so long do you read alot of fanfics yourself? Do you have any recommendations— any favorites or current fixations? I’d love to see what tickles your brain 😊❤️

Nice to meet you! I'm always thrilled to find people who vibe with my particular brand of weirdness, and I love chatting! So feel free to ping me or email me whenever. And thank you for being so sweet! ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

Once upon a long time ago I remember keeping most of my stuff to myself, cluttering up my hard drive but never getting posted anywhere, because I was convinced there just couldn't be that many people besides me who'd want to read it. Holy mackerel was I wrong! Honestly I'm still working through the backlog, there's a lot of stuff just hiding out in random folders on old laptops of mine, lol.

Shockingly I'll actually read much more than just Sirius/Regulus, it's just that The Boys(tm) are the only pairing that holds my attention enough for me to sit down and write most of the time.

I've pulled up some of the "old school" Sirius/Regulus shenanigans I couldn't tear my eyes from as a kid. And I tried to pull ones that I haven't mentioned on here as much, so hopefully they're "new" recs. I added the links if I could find them...though it appears that LiveJournal is now requiring a login to view a lot of these nowadays...and in revisiting some of them I realized that my own LJ has finally been purged by the website lol. Fifteen years of breaking their TOS by posting incestuous underage smutfics and it was the crime of not logging in for two years that finally did me in, I'm laughing so hard!

Tenkuroi's Nostalgic Recs List:

"Untitled (O Tannenbaum)" Forsanethaec

"And in the grave I see thee beast" Forsanethaec

"A Fortnight Dead" Forsanethaec

"Idle Threat" Sabethea

"The Very Dead of Winter" Spessartine

"Liturgy" Spessartine

"Opus" Spessartine (there used to be a wonderful Spanish translation of this hanging around but I can't find it back!)

"The Sun Burst Through in Unlooked For Directions" Spessartine

"Some Ways of Having Loving" Marseverlasting

"Brilliance" DeathJunkE

And then there's this masterpiece that I saved to my computer probably 12+ years ago...but I didn't write down who wrote it! Or even the title (teenage me wasn't the most forward-thinking). And it seems to have completely disappeared from the internet. It was a LiveJournal user, that's all I remember. But I positively love this fic! So much that I basically copied it when I wrote Ticigi's fic for HP Cest Fest 2022.

And of course "A Thousand Year's Good Wine", which is my personal white whale that I will likely go to my grave never reading again, lol. Every year I feel like I get closer and closer to forgetting just what about it was so special...

If we yank my brain out of 2010 and fast forward to today, I feel like there's a lot more delicious Sirius/Regulus to be had. Once upon a time, there was literally not a single Sirius/Regulus fic I hadn't read. If it was on Ao3, FF.net, LJ, IJ, or someone's personal blog, I'd seen it. Every Google results page for "Sirius/Regulus" had been carefully combed through. But today? I'm sure I'm missing a lot that's around. I'm not even caught up fully on Ao3 at the moment, and that's saying something! There's so much more to choose from now, although there has also been a noticeable shift in tone, and something of a trade-off, I feel.

A lot (by which I mean almost all) of older Sirius/Regulus was canon-compliant, and it was rare to find anything that didn't end with Reggie dead. (A notable exception would be earthphoenix and esc_azkaban's Sirius/Regulus/Severus fics,) So for those who like me want to indulge in pretending he made it out okay--or at least partake in some canon-divergence--this is the decade to be living in, lol.

However, RegulusLives! aside, we don't see nearly as much of the pretentious, purple-soaked goodness that saturated LJ and InsaneJournal back in the day. If only the past and present could meet somewhere in the middle! (ﾉ｀Д´)ﾉ

This might be confusing to some people but I'm also always down for some platonic Sirius|Regulus and the fastest way to obsess me is to write a fic where Sirius somehow ends up with custody of his brother. I think Riakida did a fic like that a year or two back that I fell in love with pretty quickly.

And we have so many longfics now! Sirius/Regulus never used to be the kind of pairing that got more than a one-shot (blame Reggie's death lol). So part of me is still getting used to finding my OTP in fics that I can actually follow and look forward to updates and such... "we could swim inside these crowds" by waitforthespark is one I've been following for awhile now. (Updates probably seem slow to everyone but me, the reigning champion of going literal years between chapters on my own fics.)

I'm curious, what drew you to the madness my stuff and similar works? Do you write as well, or just read? Any amazing gems you've come across in your wanderings?

[ominist]

BITTER REWARD

--- Part 1: Sowing ✧

Pairings- Dark!Sebastian Sallow x F!Auror!Reader x Auror!Ominis Gaunt  Summary- Sebastian escapes from Azkaban after 8 years. The Ministry were on high alert and searching for the escaped fugitive. Newspapers and flyers spread with the danger that could come within encounter. Sebastian Sallow’s face was plastered all over public and communal areas of the Ministry. After working for the Ministry for years, MC and Ominis Gaunt were cut off from the search. The Ministry’s numbers as of late were short due to ongoing violent events and kidnappings. Both aurors were denied any involvement due to conflict of interest.  They were secretly put under a watchful eye in case the fugitive decided to reach out to one of his old friends. After 2 weeks, the search proved fruitless. It was almost as if the man had disappeared into thin air.  Due to lack of resources, the search and security lessened when it came to Sallow. This was, quote, only a temporary decision until something new came up.This was exactly what Sebastian Sallow was hoping for. After a watchful eye and a calculated risk, he bids his time before cornering you. As painful as it was, waiting a little longer would prove to be rewarding.  Warnings- 18+, language, trauma, depression, angst, aged up characters, explicit content later on. Word Count- 4,380 Words Author’s Notes- I have not written a single thing in the past couple of years. I don’t know how, but HL has broken me out of a very long writer’s block. I've been on a many year hiatus from the fandom, but somehow made my way back. Also, this will be a multipart fic!

Writing Masterlist -- Part 2: Reaping 

Tiny light particles fell through the window, fading before they landed on the window sill. The illusion behind the single window flickered with sunlight and specks. Paper slips floated in the air and roamed over their designated places on the walls. Every now and then the paper shifted towards another set of pages on the board, cross referencing between images. Stacks of folders shuffled into alphabetical order on top of the desk opposite of the MC.

Silence was usually welcomed in this office. But the atmosphere was too quiet. Not even the heavy rain outside of the building could be heard within the still room. Too quiet, it was almost suffocating. No one would suspect that the shared Auror’s office was being used in such a rainy morning.

The old wooden door burst open without warning as a tall silhouette entered the room. The silent spell was at last broken. A pale hand caught the door before it slammed against the busy wall. The pages that floated near the door moments ago shook from their reverie before dipping down towards the floor.

Ominis stood at the door, his grip on the door handle tight. His cheeks were flushed but the rest of his face was pale. The pocket watch still swung from the silver chain against his dark vest, but as the seconds passed it came to a stop. Besides the few windswept strands of his hair, he looked pristine and formal as always. His gray long sleeve button shirt that he wore that morning made his eyes look even more blue. His sleeves were not rolled up, he must have arrived to Ministry not so long ago. It would not surprise her if he had run straight to her office as soon as he was informed about the recent course of events.

“MC?” His voice was quiet and hesitant.

The growing pile of folders continued to move, not pausing while the air in the office filled with expected tension.

MC’s gaze moved away from Ominis with a quiet sigh. Her jaw was set in place, her expression hard. She had been sitting in her chair and gazing out the window for the past hour. Her shoulders were stiff and her hands were placed over her knees, knuckles white. She was struggling to handle the sickness that threatened to escape her stomach. She had kept the nausea and bile down all morning. She was unable to decide whether going home was the best decision due to the current circumstances. The once irresolvable guilt creeped out from one of the deepest parts of her head. It cast a shows over her brain. A blanket over her chest as she struggled to breathe normally. The guilt came accompanied, anxiety.

It had been merely the second hour of her work day when she was summoned to the head of the department’s office. Her supervisor came by the office to deliver the message at 8am in the morning. His expression was grave as he handed her a written request without an explanation. Being summoned would not have been so nerve racking if it weren’t for the multiple gazes that met her on her way upstairs. Their once friendly expressions were nowhere to be found, only hesitation and caution.

Her mind did not do well remembering much of what occurred inside of that room to her dismay. Not only had she been questioned about her whereabouts the past 24 hours and asked to repeat them twice with intense detail, but she had to hand over her wand. After what felt like hours, she watched as a quill listed down the last spells she had used. The 3 familiar faces she usually worked with on the daily basis stood across from her with serious and unreadable expressions. Two older Aurors Robert Fawley and Stephen McNulty sat across, their stances contradicting each other. Robert sat with his hands over the desk, his expression stern as he watched her without blinking. In contrast, Stephen’s coat rested behind his chair and his shoulders were slack. It did not escape MC’s notice as their eyes flickered towards her during every question, watching her expressions carefully. The younger of the 3 was standing with his arms crossed, Jude Layton. He could not quite meet her eyes.  

“MC, we will tell you the reason for this-” Stephen’s hand gestured towards her before continuing. “After your cooperation, it is only fair that we fill you in with the events that occurred in the early morning.”

Robert’s expression did not change much after the interrogation. As she expected, his tone was sharp and straight to the point as he started talking.

“On Sunday October 3rd at 4:18am, exactly 4 hours and 36 minutes ago, Sebastian Sallow has escaped Azkaban. We will spare you the details since we do not have reliable facts to provide at the moment.”

Silence. The only thing that she could hear was the loud heart beat echoing through her head. Not even the quill scratched across the parchment in that frozen moment. Her head pounded, her throat became very dry, her palms became cold as the seconds passed. She did not even bother to respond to their words, and merely gazed at them with perplexity. Her genuine reaction seemed to ease the Aurors across from her. Stephen leaned across the table and spoke as soon as she exhaled.

“We believe that he might attempt to reach out to his former friends from Hogwarts. We will be making our rounds and stopping by to check with all his past acquaintances this week.” Then hesitation. “We will not be including you for the search, L/N,” Stephen added, his expression somewhat sympathetic.

MC nodded once, processing the words slowly. She was unable to even think properly, let alone respond with her usual fervor as the men continued to speak more openly.

“There were a couple of muggles found confounded and left unconscious in the outskirts. We have reason to believe that Sallow might have acquired a wand. We are not entirely certain by what means, but we have a lead. An older witch has been attacked an hour after he escaped this morning. Her home had been searched and ransacked. A neighbor reported it as soon as the sun rose,” Stephen added.

“You mean to say that-” MC’s voice could not hide the shock. “Sebastian..” She could not finish her sentence. She could not successfully put her thoughts into words at that exact moment. She could not even grasp one single thought from the infinite things that ran rampant in her head. She could not even finish wondering about how he had even managed to escape before Robert spoke.

“Sebastian Sallow is a wanted man. The Ministry will be seeking him out for arrest, rest assured. Anyone known to aide or be in correspondence with the fugitive will be punished severely.”

The last part of Robert’s sentence hung in the air, making it heavier to breathe. Robert’s eyes pieced into her own, searching for something in her gaze that would reveal her true intentions. But MC was not able to give anything as her eyes set on the feathered quill behind his shoulder.

A couple of months ago, Sebastian’s parole had been denied. As a matter of fact, this was the second time it had been denied. It has been 8 years since he had been sent to Azkaban. As much as she believed that she once knew him, she could not think of the reason on why he decided to escape now. The worst part was, the chances of him returning and being given the opportunity to start a new life.. These did not exist anymore. Hell, something beyond redemption was now waiting for him. Sebastian was going to face something much much worse if he was captured.

From the information they had provided, there was the possibility that someone was helping him. MC could not think of anyone besides herself, or Ominis, to even attempt to help him. Even if a whole life time passed since they were all attending Hogwarts, she somewhat understood why she would be high on that suspect list. And it seemed that the Ministry were well aware of this.

Once the Aurors felt satisfied with her answers, they carried on with explaining about what would occur for the time being. Stephen would reach out in the future if they feel the need to question her again. Then the 2 Aurors across from her shifted in their positions and looked to their right, the atmosphere turned uncomfortable and awkward. A third voice spoke, one much more monotone and unreadable. MC had almost forgotten that Jude Layton was in the room as well. And what he had to say left her feeling hurt and numb.

She had been relieved from her current assignments and investigations. She would be moved on to other temporary assignments in the meantime. Tasks that did not require the abilities and skills of an Auror. MC had not even attempted to hide her hurt and frustration from the men in front of her. No words of comfort and support could change her foul mood. And the 3 Aurors knew that as she left their office in icy silence. She made her way back to her isolated office while she came to terms with her current position. The only hidden explanation was that she was probably being removed from her position all together until the department decided she was not compromised.

This lead to an overwhelming amount of overthinking the past hour. That was until Ominis had broken the chain.

“Good morning Ominis,” she told him. Her tone was nothing close to good, and it sounded bitter to even mention that word. She knew that starting a conversation about Sebastian this early in the morning could not be avoided.

“I just left Fawley’s office. Is is true that you have been removed from your duties?” Ominis questioned, he sounded frustrated. “I cannot believe they would go this far. Even if this is only temporary, we do not have the numbers.”

MC’s eyes moved over Ominis as she registered what he had said. Of course they would not give Ominis Gaunt the same treatment. Ominis had been the one to turn in Sebastian, she reminded herself.

“You heard correctly,” she replied painfully as she grinned her teeth. “You should try to see if they let you pick up the Leland assignment. The timing for that is too crucial to leave unattended.”

MC’s eyes gazed over the neat desk across from her own. The empty desk belonged to another Auror, a couple of years older than her. He had gotten into a horrible accident 2 nights prior. He had helped her with the tedious assignment right before he was hospitalized.

“They should relieve me from my position as well,” his tone turned bitter. Ominis turned his head away from her and listened to the ongoing piles of paper continue to grow.

MC let a soft exhale before getting up from her chair. Her back ached from how long she had sat looking at nothing for the past hour. She flexed her fingers as she grabbed hold of the petticoat from the coat hanger. She folded the coat over her arm and turned to face Ominis. She gazed at him, unable to find other words to tell him. She knew that the Ministry had every reason to question her, but it hurt her pride. To be held under a different light and have all trust removed this easily..

“It has been 8 years,” she whispered without much hesitation. She regretted the words as soon as she had muttered them. The discomfort of visiting such a sensitive topic surrounded by Ministry walls was too evident.

“Yes, it has,” Ominis responded quietly.

She sighed and looked over the desk for anything she was forgetting. She took a step in Ominis’ direction needing some air. “I would not stick around if I were you,” she told him. “Misfortune spreads around here like fiendfyre.”

Ominis cleared his throat with a scoff. He hated knowing that their precautions with her had been completely different. She had already been handling so much as of late, but this was just disrespectful. He was unable to side with the department’s logic and reason. He heard the woman in front of him come closer.

“Will I see you later?” Ominis asked finally. From the way he stood with his hand still on the door handle, he did not move away. His mouth was set in a firm line. She knew he would not leave easily. There was too much to talk about once they were away from these walls.

“Yes,” she responded, sounding defeated. She knew that she would not be able to avoid him that night. As much as she wanted to be left alone to sort out the many things that continued to swell in her brain, she had to prepare for the worst. “I will see you tonight.”

Ominis gave a nod, his eyes not changing from their initial worry. He stepped away from the door to let her pass. As she got closer, she could see his expression more clearly. He was not wearing the face of worry because of Sebastian Sallow. He was worried about you. Her arm brushed past him briefly and she chastised herself mentally.

Ominis closed the office door behind him. They both parted from each other’s company without another word. In these kind of circumstances, there were not many words that could provide reassurance or comfort. It was not every day where a prisoner escaped Azkaban. And it was not every day that you heard the name Sebastian Sallow.

The rest the workday passed without a second of peace. Sebastian Sallow’s face was plastered all over the public and communal areas of the Ministry. Once she had returned to her office, she was unable to focus for the rest of her shift. The folders on the empty desk continued to fall into neat piles, waiting to be picked up by the courier. The folders contained material for the new trainees, temporary hires, and eager interns for the current season.

By the time MC was leaving the Ministry, it was pouring and cold. A harsh storm was taking over the city of London. She walked through the rain, her wand providing cover as she ducked under the closest shade. Her eyes found what she had been looking for at the end of the wet street. MC pulled her coat around her higher and crossed the empty street. The ruthless wind pushed against her coat as her boots continued over the cobbled street.

MC reached the corner cafe and put away her wand. She started outside and leaned against the dry brick wall. With gloved hands, she unfolded the newspaper that she had kept under her arm. She did not have to hope for much, she found Sebastian’s picture on the first page. Her eyes moved over his face, studying the way he looked at her with those dark haunted eyes.

… *… * …

MC opened the door, already expecting to see a dry and neat Ominis Gaunt. She welcomed him in and closed the old wooden door. Ominis pulled off his coat and hung it by the door as MC brought the teapot to the small dining table.

“I hope you were not bored to death today. What do they have you doing by the way?” Ominis asked as he came to sit across from you. His chair scraped the floor. MC raised her brow as she sat down as well.

“Nothing that my adrenaline loving and violent nature can’t handle,” she tried not to sound so morbid. But mentioning violence in such a sarcastic tone made Ominis chuckle.

She poured him a cup of tea and passed it towards him. Ominis reached out with his long fingers and felt around the cup. The familiar handle brought a smile to his lips. He brought the teacup to his lips slowly, savoring the taste of home. Ominis always looked forward to being invited for tea, it reminded him of a better time when he did not feel so lonely. Of course he could always buy the same brand of tea, but then it would not taste the same.

Ominins only focused on the state of the Auror department and recounted things he observed that day. It had been one of the most chaotic days in the past couple of months, something MC did not have the chance of witnessing for herself. He mentioned how everything was bound to come crashing down in a disaster. There were rumors that the Ministry would once again mass hire a lot of new workers. Petty types of crime occurred all day long and they could not seem to acknowledge every single report on time. The sooner the department rearranged their priorities, the sooner things could somehow seem manageable again.

MC sipped her tea as she listened to him continue to talk. Ominis was clearly stressed and anxious. He never talked this much and it made her wish that he did not lose any sleep in the coming days. He always been a deep sleeper.

“I reckon they will probably have everyone questioned by tomorrow. Imagine Leander Prewett waking up the middle of the night to see Ministry officials at his door step,” Ominis told her with a small smile.

“You just reminded me,” MC got up from her chair and walked towards the counter. MC moved through the kitchen, remembering what she had intended to do earlier that day.

“I should write to Anne. She should be aware,” she said out loud. MC had a quill in hand and was in the process of reaching out for a piece of parchment.

“Don’t worry, I already sent her an owl,” Ominis tells her.

His words interrupted her thoughts. With a sudden pause, MC’s grip tightened for a moment. She heard the quill scratch down against the table. She let go of the quill, letting it land back on the over crowded desk. She did not turn to towards Ominis and busied herself with closing one of the many opened inkwells. On top of how distressed she already felt, she now started to feel unsettled. She should have known that Ominis would have already reached out to Anne. Considering the many owls they probably send each other on the daily.

“Of course,” she breathed with a small laugh. The sound did not quite reach her eyes.

“Does it bother you?” Ominis asked.

MC turned towards Ominis at last. His eyes were directed towards her, paying close attention. She swallowed slowly, the room suddenly became tense. The deeper meaning to his words stung. His eyes were set on her, almost as if he knew what expression was on her face. Ominis always knew.

“There is no reason for that to bother me,” she answered at last.

Ominis nodded before muttering good. His eyes were suddenly upset, but he did not mention another word on the matter. He almost wanted her to admit that she was bothered and that she missed him. MC did not continue on the topic either so they stayed where they were in silence.

Eventually Ominis promised to stay in touch and drew his coat tight around himself. He reminded her to take time off if she did not want to work on the limitless petty tasks. The tall man left her apartment, leaving a melancholic and depressive mood.

There was a reason why MC had tried to keep a respectable distance from Ominis. The past year had been confusing and awkward between the two. A complete imbalance had taken over their close friendship. Or what anyone would call a natural relationship. They had gone from avoiding each other after their 5th year during Hogwarts. Then they became acquaintances and then close friends by their 7th. Their friendship remained platonic for majority of the past couple of years. That was until quite recently.

Ominis had moved in with MC for a couple of months. He had undergone quite a lot when he finally broke away from his family’s influence and control. The relationship Ominis had with his family only continued to grow estranged after he was accepted into the Minstry’s Auror Department. The years that followed became strenuous, with the constant negativity and continued abuse. Ominis had moved out of his parent’s home all together and cut ties with them completely. Mc had offered to share her home as soon as he had told her of his plans.

He had only been her roommate for 2 months, but it was enough to bring the two only closer. They had become familiar with each other’s presence and lifestyles. While he liked to have his tea at the brink of dawn, MC refused to eat anything until she was sitting in her office. Ominis always made sure his clothes were pristine and ironed. He styled his hair every morning to its usual neatness and elegance, there were no excuses. MC did the bare minimum with washing her face and brushing her hair. She only put in more effort once she noticed she was looking a little bit too sleep deprived. Ominis could sleep through the loudest and rowdy crowds walking through the streets at night, while MC struggled with the lightest sound passing outside of her window. While they were so different, they both learned to wait and depend on the other. Whether it was their daily commute to work every day or their scheduled Friday evenings at the closest pub, they enjoyed each other’s company. They had fallen into a pattern quite easily. When she would get back to the apartment before his shift ended, she made sure to make enough dinner for the both of them. She would even warm it up regardless of how late he got back. When he kept her waiting, he would pick up groceries or a bottle of gin.

To her luck, the landlord refused to raise rent for those months. The older man did not even question the young man’s relation to the young witch. He had been more relieved about having 2 Aurors as tenants in the midst of all the recent break ins. At the present, the landlord still asked about Ominins every now and then. He even offered to reserve a room for him if he ever needed it in the future.

Ominis eventually moved into his own apartment in another part of London. When he moved away, that was when he realized he missed her. But miss her in a different way. Eventually, they started to demonstrate a little more than just friendship toward the other. Ominis no longer picked up groceries for her, but flowers whenever they met for dinner. They had gotten as far as holding hands. The dinners, flowers, and small notes only went on for 4 months.

It was short lived. Because one day, Anne had confessed to MC that she had feelings for Ominis. This happened almost 10 months ago.

The longer MC thought about it, she was not sure if what she had with Ominis was even considered love. MC found herself comparing the relationship with those she had in the past. It was easier to think that they had gotten comfortable around each other. They were both quite alone and found brief comfort in each other’s company. Maybe if it had gone on for a bit longer, her thoughts on the matter would be completely different.

MC found herself feeling exhausted being around Anne. Her weekend visits eventually became monthly visits. Irrational guilt was something that she long carried since Hogwarts. And it constantly showed its ugly head. Especially during situations like the one she found herself in. MC could not bear to break Anne’s heart.

Not when she had been given a chance to start living her life and start planning for the future. Anne was in a much better place in her life now. Where she once believed there was no point thinking of goals or ambitions, she was now looking forward to what awaited her. She was doing her best to pick up where she last left off before the curse took over her life.

MC had paused the curse indefinitely and even managed to move the progress back to relieve her symptoms. This had proven to be sufficient.  The results had given everyone hope once again. Hope, something that Anne had not seen since Sebastian was still young at Hogwarts. All MC had to do was find a way to remove the curse. And this felt more possible than ever. She felt responsible for curing Anne and she would not stop her search. Her ambition and rare magic had brought good things at last. And in a way, she was not only doing this for Anne. Deep down, she knew why she never stopped.

When Anne expressed how she had been wanting to ask Ominis to dinner, wondering whether he would accept out of obligation, questioning whether she should be straight forward, it had left MC feeling like she had wronged her. Anne was asking for advice on from the friend she considered close as a sister. Just hearing Anne admit her feelings for their long time friend.. It had been enough for MC to write to Ominis and stop whatever was growing between them.

To her knowledge, not much had occurred between Ominis and Anne the past couple of months. MC refused to believe that she was the reason why Ominis and Anne would not proceed with forming their relationship.

She could deal with the guilt that came with burying the truth from Anne. She could handle the downside of breaking up with Ominis and leaving things be. Moments like these made MC extremely aware of how self centered and selfish she could be. But when it came to Anne and Ominis. They were the exception.

To her expectations, Ominis had accepted her decision. If there was anyone that would understand her actions, it was Ominis. Anne would never find out about her temporary relationship with Ominis, not through her at least.

✧

[howlingmoonrise]

AO3 Wrapped 2024 (Writer's Edition)

"tagged" by @sunriseverse! more under the cut for length, you know the drill

1. How many words have you written this year?

38,937 posted, and 59,646 written overall - some of those i'll never finish, one is waiting to be published in a zine, and a couple of others i'm still working on!

2. How many works did you publish this year?

4 so far! assuming 5 once yuletide rolls around. that's way more than i expected considering my last 3-4 years of writer's block!

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

for this year probably the clonefucking threesome fic for spirealm/kaleidoscope of death 😂😂 it was also the fic that got me writing again!

4. What work of yours has the most hits? 

i like it when that lightning comes (the aforementioned clonefucking jealousy threesome fic) is the winner amongst this year's fics at 1 313 hits!

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

look, let's be real, we're not exactly swimming in comments here. that being said, i was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the comments i got for i'll paint you mornings of gold (labyrinth, sarah/jareth), which i wrote for battleship exchange 2024!

6. Favorite title you used? 

i'll paint you mornings of gold once again because david bowie's as the world falls down is THEE love song of all time and haunts me forever, don't try to argue with me on this.

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? 

i used song titles for three of the four fics i posted, but none of them were repeats. we got david bowie (song: as the world falls down), the cure (song: hot! hot! hot!), and the kinks (song: lola)

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year? 

nanqiu from the spirealm/kaleidoscope of death! blowing sunny a kiss for getting me writing again after a metric fuckton of squeeing over this ship in the dms

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? 

also nanqiu! though i was also very happy at completing my goal of writing at least one jareth/sarah labyrinth fic in my lifetime!

10. What work was the quickest to write? 

oh gods. *war flashbacks to battleship exchange*

i wrote the entirety of it’s a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world (6.5k+, nanqiu, spirealm/kod, crossdressing exhibitionism rimming fic) in like...... 8 hours in a row i think? iirc i stayed up until like 6-7am feverishly writing the entirety of it because i KNEW i could blow the squares we needed to finish board 1 if i finished this thing in time. and i was right!! but my fingers weren't even typing straight anymore by the end of it though, the next day they were actually sore 💀

11. What work took you the longest to write? 

i'm STILL writing it bestie. it's a short-term amnesia thing also for nanqiu which sits at 15k+ so far, and which i've been writing since... june? july? but in terms of posted fics, then from here one's hand could pluck the stars (mysterious lotus casebook, difang sex pollen fic) which probably wouldn't have survived the end of battleship if it weren't for @a-memory-a-distant-echo pushing me through it

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? 

😬😬😬...let's be real, i have no clue which ones will survive until then. there's the ones i listed on question 15, and i always have an endless amount of prompts/plot bunnies to work with, but i very much only work on a "when the muse strikes" basis unless it's a fic exchange.

13. What’s your longest work of the year? 

from among my posted works, then from here one's hand could pluck the stars sitting at 11 479 words

14. What’s your shortest work of the year? 

until i post my yuletide fic, it's it’s a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world at 6584 words

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

*side-eyes dozens of years-old fics in my folder* ...anyway.

hoping to bring in at least my corpse bride ot3 fic, the nanqiu short-term amnesia fic, and the frozen elsa&elsa long timeloop circular narrative thingie i was working on. i'm NOT looking even remotely in the direction of my 50k+ barbie/dracula pride and prejudice au fic. i do not see it, i don't know.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? 

...................explicit sexual content, apparently. which is WILD because i hadn't written actual smut in years, even before my writer's block hiatus.

17. Your favorite character to write this year? 

lin-gege ✊😔 who is lin-gege, you ask? *puts tinfoil hat on* so you know how there's the original timeline in kaleidoscope of death and in that timeline there's the rnz-equivalent obsidian leader lin qiushi--

i fear he kinda grew into his own character in the sunnyhowl dms despite barely being mentioned in the novel rip

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

DI FUCKING FEISHENG!!!!!!!!!! i had to go into people's dms and ask for essays on how they viewed the character and shit because i was NOT being able to get into his fucking mindset. that fic was SUCH a mcfucking pain to write i swear. once again a million thank yous to @a-memory-a-distant-echo!!!!!

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

i want!!!!!!! to write!!!!!!!! my crackships!!!!!!!!!!! -> has been saying this for like a decade and written actually very few, alas

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

you guys are rereading your works????? couldn't be me. at most i'll give it a reread when i can't remember the fic in like 5-10 years or so and a comment points to a specific part i've forgotten

21. How many kudos in total did you get this year? 

433 on words posted this year, idk how to check kudos amount per year on previously posted fics

22. Which work has the most comments?

i like it when that lightning comes with 16 comments for works posted this year

23. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

i don't usually do collaborative works so no

24. Did you write any gifts this year? 

i only wrote gifts this year 😂 ...wait, no, that's a lie, there is the fic i did for a zine that remains hidden from the general interwebz

25. Did you receive any gifts this year? 

ye! got three entire nanqiu fics from sunny (blowing you a kissie) and.... two and a half? gift art pieces for battleship exchange

26. What’s your most common category? 

m/m because nanqiu got me in a deathgrip

27. What do you listen to while writing? 

a speech-blocker white noise generator to block out the living room tv :') alternatively, if it's a fic where the setting is very important to get the readers in the world (like riddick and similar 'verses) i'll listen to the corresponding ost if applicable to get a feeling for it

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

the clonefucking threes-- *gets shot* i mean, i like it when that lightning comes (nanqiu, spirealm/kod)

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? 

you're asking me to go look back on my writing? hell the fuck no, sorry. once it's posted i'm not laying my eyes on it anytime soon 😂

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year? 

that i wrote at all 😂😂😂

--

no-pressure tagging! @a-memory-a-distant-echo @junemermaid @momosandlemonsoda @acernor @nemainofthewater and whoever else feels like doing this! ("but howl, i only wrote one fic this year!" some of you might say, to which i say "neener neener, i KNOW you have unposted fics, write about those as well!!!")

[melodygatesauthor]

Okay guys, I can't believe it's been a full year since I published the first chapter of my first fanfiction story and I'm still going strong today. - (Side note...it was actually yesterday but I wanted to get all my fics posted to AO3 so I could get an accurate word count and tell you all what I've done so...it took me an extra day)

This is going to be a really long post, and I thank everyone in advance for reading all the way through if you make it. I'm taking a moment to allow myself to talk about my accomplishments over the last year, my goals for this next year, and gas myself up just a bit. As an artist, it's really hard to talk about myself in a positive light without being critical, but I'm going to do it anyway. No one asked, but this is one of the ways I wanna celebrate my ficversary so...I'm gonna do it lol.

My First Fanfic Ever

I'd like to start by sharing my beginnings with writing. If I really think back to the very first fanfiction I wrote, I thought it was a Gorillaz fic (which I still have a handwritten copy of in my closet lol), but it wasn't. I think the very first fanfic I wrote technically was a Pirates of the Caribbean fic when I was 11. I didn't even realize that's what it was, I just knew that I was SO into POTC that I wanted to write about it. It had just come out by the way, so I'm really dating myself. This was...2003.

We had this thing we had to do for school, it was like a writing assignment or something, one of those big ones that they gave you, a standardized whatever. I managed to find a way to spin it into a POTC related thing and I went OFF writing this story. It had its own twists and turns unrelated to POTC, but it was a fanfic through and through.

The Beginning of My Fan Art

When I was 12 I started listening to Good Charlotte, to a point that it was my entire personality. Everyone who knew me, knew I loved them. Every fucking art project I had in middle school (7th and 8th grade) was revolved around this band, particularly Joel Madden.

My love for them has come and gone, but I still remember how I felt at the time (not unlike how I feel toward Oscar Isaac now lol). I mean my art teacher literally had to be like "I want you to branch out, you can't make everything about them." And as an adult, I'm wondering -why the fuck not but- ...I digress.

The First Fanfic I Ever "Published"

When I was 12 (or maybe closer to 13), I became OBSESSED with the Gorillaz. When I say obsessed I mean...I listened to the album Demon Days on repeat until it fucking broke. I changed my G's when I would write by hand to match the G in their logo. I made tons of fan art and it was a damn vibe. This was the first time I really discovered fanfiction and learned what it was.

I remember reading one fanfic from some girl on this website (I'm really dating myself here, some of you will know what site this is...) Quizilla. Quizilla was THE site at the time (other than LiveJournal I think, but I never used LiveJournal and didn't know it existed at the time) for fanfiction and what you would now call "buzzfeed quizzes". This girl's writing inspired me to write my own fanfic, which I handwrote and kept in a green folder which, as I said, I still have to this day sitting in my closet.

My very first fic, and yes at 13, included some romance, some non-con (don't fucking ask me why idk even how I knew about that at 13. I was never exposed to this type of thing as a child fortunately) and other nonsense. I published it on this site, and it made me really happy. I don't remember if anyone ever read it or not tbh, but it will forever hold a place in my heart <3

My Best Friend/Emo Era

I met my best friend in high school when I was about 14. She and I are still close to this day. Not as close, but I can still tell her my most unhinged thoughts and she loves me regardless. We met because we both wrote fanfiction and lost our minds over the fact that we did. Thus started my emo era.

She was into My Chemical Romance, and I was into The Used. 2005 was a time lol. The two of us had either a binder or a composition notebook where we'd handwrite our fics and pass them back and forth between classes. I still have the ones I wrote tucked away in my house. When we'd read them she and I would leave little notes in the margins like we all leave comments today.

Most of these fics never got published, they were just for us to enjoy. I did, however, publish a fic when I was about 15, that I wrote to completion. Quizilla ended up going down, and most of us moved to Mibba.com instead, which is still a website.

Edit: I looked at Mibba, and it looks like the website is still there, but you can't search for anything, so Mibba is gone too. Not gonna lie, broke my nostalgic heart just a bit to see...Some fics I wrote on there will be gone forever. Maybe for the best, but it's still kinda sad.

The Avenged Sevenfold Era

When I tell you that Avenged Sevenfold has been my favorite band since I was 15, I'm dead ass. Are they the best band ever? Not by a long shot, but damn the way I still lose my shit over them is unhinged. Anyone who was around during this time fucking knows...they were fucking HOT. Matt Shadows really had the bulky but not shredded body type going on, they all kinda did, and I'm so here for it.

Why I'll never post any of the fics I wrote during this time, even if I get my hands on them...

I wrote them when I was 15, and I was writing about things 15 year olds shouldn't write about.

You don't know cringe until you've read those fics.

It's about real people and I'm not a fan of rpf anymore. I'm all for writing whatever you want and fiction being fiction but there's something that gives me the ick about real people fiction. No offense to anyone who writes it, that's just my feelings.

The way these guys had a hold on me for the next 5 years was ridiculous. I wrote about them a lot, by hand, on my laptop, however I could. I had so many unhinged ideas and stories it's insane. I loved every minute of it, and I always look back on this as my true start into fanfiction.

The End of an Era

All good things come to an end. After graduation, my best friend and I stayed in touch, but grew apart. I went to college and continued writing fanfic. I was pursuing a major in graphic design with a minor in creative writing. I was convinced that even though I was writing fanfiction, I was going to write a book too and it would be a bestseller.

As time went on, probably when I was about 20 or 21, I kinda stopped writing fanfiction all together. My friend wasn't really writing it anymore, and the community around Avenged Sevenfold was slowing down. I was also in the middle of a breakup and it was a whole thing, so I kinda stopped writing around this time.

I'd also, unfortunately, felt like fanfiction was for kids/teens, so didn't feel the need to continue writing anymore. I didn't want to seem like a loser writing fanfiction in my twenties...so I didn't.

For the record, you're not a loser for writing fanfiction. It's a very valid artform and it's fun. We only live for so long, so enjoy it doing what makes you happy, period. I'll probably be writing in my 50s I fucking hope lol.

Anyway, at that time, that's how I felt. I now know it's bullshit to think that way. So fanfiction fizzled out for me, and I kinda moved on to other things.

My Not-fanfiction Era

What was I doing instead of writing? Going through an emotionally and mentally abusive relationship, working on trying to build what I thought was the 'dream' (marriage, kids, a house, e.t.c.), working and playing video games.

Fortunately that relationship ended. After years of therapy (which he told me I needed because he gaslit me into thinking I was crazy lol), I grew the balls to finally tell him to fuck off and leave. It was the best decision I ever made, especially considering this was JUST before COVID hit. I shudder to this day thinking about the fact that I was almost stuck in a house with that freak during lockdown.

When that relationship ended I moved back to Maine to be with my family. I missed them and had spent basically my entire 20s in another state with some loser.

Back to Fanfiction - Kylo Ren Era

So how did I get back here? How did I get back into writing and creating fan art? The truth is, a switch literally flipped in my brain over this guy right here...

I mean...

The funny thing is, I wasn't SUPER into Star Wars before this. I liked it, I'd seen the sequel trilogy in theaters, but to me it was just a movie series. I was literally watching a Sam Collins video on YouTube where he made fun of a Kylo Ren cosplayer's thirst trap on TikTok and was like...oh that's actually kinda hot.

Thought nothing of it though, just moved on with my day...until I dreamt about him too. And then I felt this spark inside me that I couldn't shake. I literally was like...👀 something is happening here.

So I remembered this feeling from when I was a teen and recognized the impending obsession immediately. I actually googled "is fanfiction still relevant" and "is it ok to write fanfiction as an adult?"

The short answers are - yes - and - of course it is -. This was how I discovered the VERY popular Kylo Ren fic Fix Your Attitude by Kassanovella. I read it in a matter of a week, and in that time I started writing my own fic. I also rewatched ALL the Star Wars movies, and then continued rewatching the sequel trilogy on repeat just so I could get Kylo Ren's character down. I wanted to make sure I captured his voice and personality perfectly. - When I say I watched the sequel trilogy 20 times, it's not an exaggeration, I had it on constantly.-

The fic I wrote was called, Yes, Master

The first chapter of that fic was published on 09/05/2022 (one year ago today), and the last chapter was published on 10/14/2022 with a word count of 100,701. Not only is it the longest fic I've written of all the fics I've done, but it's the one I wrote the fastest. I was posting a chapter a day every day until it was finished. I mean...I literally went OFF on this story. I was so proud of it that I went to lulu.com and made myself a physical copy of it that I intend to read as part of this celebration I'm doing lol.

Wondering if anyone would be interested in me revamping this story (rewriting and updating it) and posting here? I would definitely do it if there was enough interest.

I then wrote a sequel called By Your Side which taught me SO MUCH. Here's what I learned when creating this sequel...

Not everything needs a sequel.

Writing a chapter a day isn't realistic.

I should've planned a full outline before diving into this fic.

I'm not into pregnancy fics/domestic fics all that much as far as longfics go.

It's okay to genuinely dislike something you've written and you should try to learn from that.

By Your Side is still to this day one of my least favorite fics (if not my LEAST favorite). I am still proud of myself for finishing it, (it sits at a hefty 85,599 words). I don't have to love it though. I'm just grateful for what I learned in the process of writing it and proud of myself for finishing it despite being sick of it by chapter 8 and still writing 20 chapters after that.

I also wrote my very first Yandere fic, Just You. It's a bit darker, in my opinion, than The Fractured Moon. This fic was a blast to write, and it felt very freeing to write something so disturbing. It was fun to just let myself get into a dark headspace without holding back and not feeling bad about it. It was more

The Rainbow Six Siege Era

During my time writing for Kylo, I went back to a video game I used to play a lot, Rainbow Six Siege. My Oscar Era bleeds into the Kylo and R6S era a little but I'll talk about that soon.

The Siege fandom was an interesting one...one that I'll probably not go back to much, though I may still write a little fic for it here and there as I feel inspired to. I won't dive too much into this as I know most of you are Oscar fans, but I'll mention my accomplishments here and the things I learned.

I wrote another novel-length fic for this fandom called The Recruit and the Hunter which has another 83,888 words. I actually LOVE this story, and still look back on it fondly. It was a fun one to write, and I really challenged myself to write less smut for it, and I succeeded. It focused heavily on the relationship that built between the main pairing and in my opinion it's one of my better slow-burns I've done.

Why did I leave this fandom?

Well, I'm not going to throw shade, I don't like doing that unless I have to, so I'll keep it brief. The long and the short of it is this...

The readers were getting EXTREMELY demanding. I have comments on RATH of people saying things like "I'm going to be upset if you don't give us a happy ending" and "there better be smut or I swear...". It can get really discouraging as a writer when people seem to say "I love your fic but I'll only continue to love it if you do xyz." It puts us in a dilemma, and makes it hard for us to find a balance between providing fan service, and doing what's fun for us to write. It definitely changed the outcome of RATH and I'm not happy that I gave in like that.

The requests I got were confusing and downright weird. I didn't do some of the really weird ones, and I'm not meaning to kink shame, but it was just very niche things that I couldn't get myself into. I think part of why I felt obligated to provide fan service like I mentioned in the point above, and why I caved and wrote some fanfics for these more unique requests, is because this fandom is very small, and I felt an obligation to provide.

Some of the other writers in the fandom are fucking rude. I'm not going to mention names, like I said, but I had very poor experiences with several writers in the fandom, and since I was also integrating into the Oscar fandom at the time, I could see a stark difference in the way I was being accepted in one, versus the way I was being pushed away in the other. There aren't a lot of x reader writers in the R6S fandom, and I was one of them, and there seems to be some animosity between the people who ship characters, versus the people who write x reader and that's where this mistreatment came from. I don't know, I tried making friends over there, and felt like I was getting pushed out.

So anyway, it's not for me anymore, but I still think back to certain parts of it fondly, and I may write a little more here and there as I see fit.

The Oscar Isaac Era

This really is THE era, isn't it?

As I was working on the last 10 or so chapters of Yes, Master, and after my 12th time rewatching the sequel trilogy movies, I started to fall for Poe Dameron, naturally. How could I not? I mean look at him...

So I decided that I would give Poe a prequel to my Yes, Master story called One Hell of a Pilot. This fic was so fun to write, and it's how I became involved with the Oscar Isaac community in the first place. Immediately I started following Dee, and through her I found Mona, and it was just snowballing from there. Whitney and Romana were some of the first to follow me and my shenanigans.

In December, which is when I started writing One Hell of a Pilot, another novel-length fic that ended with 80,517 words, is when I started reading Dee's fics, along with Mona's and many others. I saw their interactions and felt excited by the prospect of making new friends who were just as into some of this stuff as I was. A place that I could be myself and lose my shit over this idiot and not be judged.

I had no idea what the hell I was getting myself into.

It all started with a fic that Dee had written, I can't remember which one, probably a dbf!Santi fic, and I asked the innocent question of...

What movie is this from?

Oh shit...I didn't realize what the fuck I was getting myself into. After she told me it was Triple Frontier and I should watch it, my brother and I watched it right away. I told him a friend of mine suggested it. The way we spent the entire 1.5 hours laughing at how bad it was is still a memory I hold dear to my heart. I still didn't know at the time that this loser (Oscar my beloved) would hold a place in my heart from that day on.

My first Santi fic was a headcanon about Santi w/ a plussize reader that I called Preciously Plump. A headcanon that later got a full fic, appropriately named Preciously Plump the One-shot.

So then I read something about Moon Knight, and between Dee and Mona shoving me into it (peer pressure ftw) I caved and watched the show.

Phew...

That gave way to the first Moon Knight fic I ever wrote, How Unexpected which came out on January 3rd, 2023 of this year. I was sure that between Steven's adorable nerdy behavior, and Marc's tough exterior, I'd be head over heels for those two. I was nervous to even TOUCH Jake, because I didn't know shit about his character, and the last thing I wanted to do was write a character without it sounding like them.

I was also afraid at the time of writing the Moon Boys with DID because I didn't know anything about it, and I didn't want to misrepresent something like that. After some time went by, I got my bearings, and started working on A Bit Dodgy.

ABD is definitely one of the fics I'm most proud of. I had learned a lot from my past fics I'd written, Yes, Master, e.t.c., and figured out what it was that works best when I'm writing to not only keep myself interested, but to create a good balance between smut for smut's sake, and pushing the story forward.

When I first started writing ABD, I was sure it was going to be a 30-40 chapter fic, but as I started writing it more, I realized quickly that a lot of the chapters were just porn. Is there anything wrong with that? No...but as someone who's written nearly a million words in this past year, I don't feel the need to draw my chaptered fics out with smut just to say I wrote something x chapters or x words wrong.

That's why ABD ended up getting cut down SO MUCH from my original plan. I just made some decisions that I felt maximized the story more and used the smut as a major plot device, rather than the fic revolving around smut as the plot...if that makes any sense lol. I'm happy to say, that as of today, A Bit Dodgy has concluded, though it's the only fic I've ever finished with such a heavy heart.

I was an Oscar stan HARD after that, diving into Sucker Punch and other silly little movies filled with that silly little man whom I love so so much.

Statistics

Numbers aren't important when it comes to kudos (AO3) and likes (Tumblr) so I'm not focusing on those. What I am going to focus on...is my personal accomplishments. Like I said, I don't normally toot my own horn, but I fucking wrote A LOT this year, and I'm going to take a minute to pat myself on the back.

So NOT including my random blurbs (since I'm not bothering to cross-post those)...

My total word count from 09/05/2022-09/05/2023 is (drumroll please):

791,829 words

OH

EM

GEE

I had thought I would've hit a million by now but I am NOT going to complain. By the grace of the horny demon that runs the smut factory in my brain, I've written more than I ever even thought possible.

In the Moon Knight fandom alone, I've written:

238,950 words

I think the only fandom I've written more for is Star Wars, but I'd have to add it all up and I'm not doing that rn haha.

Just kidding it's:

368,566 words

----

I wrote 6 novel-length fics, a total of 147 works, MK holds the record for most fics I've written at a whopping 82 fics!

----

It's shocking to look back and see what I've accomplished, and to look forward to seeing what else I can do. I know that this next year I won't have the same word count, probably not even close.

I'm focusing a lot on drawing now as well as writing, plus I'm working on my first novel that I'd like to publish so things will definitely be slowing down. I'm going to continue writing, but the speed at which I churn out fics will be slower in the future.

In Conclusion

Thank you all for the support throughout this year. There's no way in HELL I would've had the drive and desire to continue writing if not for the amazing community (most the Oscar Isaac community lol) behind me. It's not just the kudos and the reblogs, it's the people who I've grown to know since joining the world of fandom.

I never had a ton of IRL friends, and I live alone (happily btw) with my dog. Being able to make some friends here that I genuinely call friends, not just people I know online, has meant the world to me. I would list everyone out, but I have a fear of accidentally forgetting to tag someone despite how much they mean to me so I'll leave it at...those people know who they are.

And to my readers (I hesitate to use the word "fans", that makes it sound so conceited), thank you to the moon and back. Without out, I wouldn't have had the drive to keep going. Kudos, Likes and Reblogs aren't everything, I can't stress that enough, but they do help keep the drive alive. (Particularly the comments). Without the little boost of excitement I get when I see that other people are just excited about what I'm doing as I am, I probably would've given up ages ago.

You all are the reason that this was even possible.

With all that being said, I have a small celebration planned that I'll announce later tonight. In the mean time, stay amazing. You keep supporting me, and I'll keep providing the fics that you all love so much

Love, Melly

[nemaliwrites]

2025 WIP Cleanout

anyway i was thinking about Jessica Abel's thoughts on idea debt and @/bettsfic's newsletter on triaging wips and realized there is a LOT of drawerfic i have that my brain refuses to actually leave in the proverbial drawer

it was easy then to be like 'ok whatever i'll just scrap this' but harder to realize that...i don't actually want to scrap them

i don't know if it's the ideas themselves that keep haunting me or the potential that i know those stories can have if only i put the work in - so here is me, vowing to put the work in

i've got 4 fics, over 300k more words to write, and a plan of action for all of them - here's everything i've got on the list (they all have titles too so that's how you know i'm serious about them LOL)

Something Man-Made is Here

Beef, Amy/Danny, Amy/Paul

this one is what inspired this cleanout bc i've literally had this fic on the backburner FOREVER :') i first started it back in june 2023 and wrote like 20k words before taking a break. then i picked it back up for nano 2023 and wrote the 50k before taking another break. finally in july 2024 i wrote the last 30k and then promptly buried the doc so deep in my folders that i didn't look at it again

i do think this one has good bones and is worth polishing up, but i mean, to state the obvious...absolutely no one is going to read this. there are like 10 fics for this fandom - for so long i've been feeling like it would be a waste of time to fix this up.

but!!! it wouldn't!!!! because as we have established, this will keep haunting me until i actually do something about it. so! plan of action

currently, the draft is around 100k and 27 chapters. but! it is a mess

i think the final chapter count will actually be less....chapters 24-27 feel like they could be consolidated into one or two, just to tighten up the pacing a bit

the entire thing also needs probably a straight up rewrite so....that will be fun

a lot of the smaller things this needs - a sweep for pacing, characterization, etc etc - will probably be covered in the rewrite so i just need to put the time in

final word count will probably be somewhere around 80-100k? i think a lot of what i have will be cut and replaced, so it'll also be tightened up

2. Hold Up Our Mirrors

AI: The Somnium Files, Iris & Saito

started this one back in february 2023...wow. it's currently sitting at 17k words, but i think the reason i dropped it is because it has no audience except for me [do you see a pattern here...] and also because it needed a lot of canon review that i wasn't really in the mood to do

this one also has good bones! back when i started this, i found the theme/motif that i wanted it to center around, so that's a lot of the groundwork done.

canon reviewwww.....i have no idea who these people are anymore.

probably will scrap most of what i have and start fresh, mostly bc i was in a very different place when i wrote this and i think starting over will help put me back into the headspace of the story

good bones good bones!! i actually have most of the major beats of the story already written down, so most of the rewrite's focus will be on characterization rather than plot

i don't think this one should be very long? [fully aware that i will probably eat my words] i was thinking around 50k, so we'll see

3. Swim Back to Your Shore

Persona 4, Yu & Nanako, Yu & Investigation Team

ahhh another fic that will only appeal to me. this one is actually more recent than the others on the list..i started it back in august 2024. so far, i've got 29k written, but about 20k of that was written with dictation, so it's more of a zero draft than anything coherent.

the first like...8k though, i'm actually quite happy with! don't think it'll require as much work as the rest

okiee first of all, need to rewrite all of the dictation-written chapters (5 of them) into something resembling prose

after that, actually, i think it's just writing the rest? the plot is like.....a vague mishmash of things that only exists in my head, so finding the right thread to pull might take a while

thinking around 80k for this one

4. Maybe Life Will Love You Home

Miraculous Ladybug, Shadybug/Claw Noir

so this one might actually appeal to people other than me!! all....two of you LOL

started this one back in may 2024, and originally meant to finish it for the ML big bang, but..idk the vibes were off, so i scrapped that idea. this one's currently sitting at 15k, but i think i need to start fresh with this one too.

read through what i have and cannibalize it for ideas

just write! for this one at least, the plot is a bit more concrete in my head? maybe bc i've been thinking about it for so long....haunting me...

thinking also around 80k for this one!

deadline for all of these is by the end of the year, 2025. godspeed, future me

[many-gay-magpies]

HI MAGPIE for the director’s cut asks tbh i would love to hear you talk about any of your fics that you most want to talk about. but i also need you to know that i’ve reread “Honey, it’s Easier” like three times at this point just because something about that one is getting me and hitting different. they just love each other so much you know????? their tenderness and care for each other and also how viscerally into one another they are in that one captivates me. anyway DIRECTOR’S CUT QUESTION: how do you choose whose pov to write from in a fic (generally) and do you have a preferred one to write? <3

HELLOOOO thank you sm for asking!! I will absolutely talk about Honey, it's Easier because that was SUCH a fun one (knowing you've reread it so much makes me SO happy skdfhkjsdhf, I'm super happy with the reception it's gotten!).

that one started, like a lot of my fics have recently, as a conversation in the payneland party discord server, though I don't remember the exact details of HOW it started-- I think we were just generally talking about, like, the idea of Charles trying to hold back and be respectful/let Edwin adjust meanwhile Edwin is just like. antsy as all hell waiting for CHARLES to be ready because he's been ready to go basically since the beginning. idk, id have to scroll back through the nsfw channel to find the convo, and it was SO long ago and pretty basic as far as details go so it would take forever to find XD. but I remember it was one of those convos where we kept just "yes, and" ing each other and after writing a whole long message that was basically a ficlet in its own right I was just like. im gonna write this actually. and then it ended up being over 8k words long.

the rest of my answers shall be under the cut because this got long af (predictably), and also because the rest of the stuff I have to say about Honey, it's Easier is just. all about sex lmao. anyone reading these answers who is not interested in the horny particulars of several fic sequels and prequels can just skip over the list and go straight to the director's cut question answer <3

dude I have SO MANY IDEAS for more fics in the Honey, it's Easier universe (which I have simply dubbed the Honeyverse in my DBDA fic folder) it's not even funny. I have ideas for a prequel, ideas for several sequel one shots that could condense into a single fic, either one BIG one shot or smth multi chapter... in which case it would be very funny to have the only two multi chapter fics ive ever posted both be payneland smut lmao. anyways the ideas for you:

little prequel fic, describing one of those times Edwin and Charles snogged and then Edwin left in detail. I actually have over 1000 words of this one written, but the spark to write the smutty bit has not arrived yet so it's just sitting there until it bestows itself upon me

sequel, catering to Edwin's desire to see Charles get himself off

sequel, where Charles is like "hey I didn't get to properly blow you last time can I do it again"

sequel where they just kind of luxuriate in not having to STOP anymore. featuring bitey Charles

idk if all of these ideas will get written, or if ANY of them will, as the smut writing spark appears to have dissipated somewhat. but just know I am Thinking About Them

for the director's cut question: generally when it comes to the POV of a fic, I have an idea about whose POV it'll be in right from the start? or, like, the idea itself is kind of intrinsically tied to the POV. with take me under (take me home), I knew off the bat I wanted it to be Edwin POV because the whole premise was Edwin witnessing Charles have a panic attack and calm him down from it. with Honey, it's Easier a lot of the yes, and-ing we'd been doing in the server had been about Edwin's feelings and. ahem. desire, and him showing Charles he was VERY MUCH READY and had been for a while, so it was just natural to write it from his POV. then with to watch you as you wake, the whole thing was meant to be an exploration of Charles's trauma and bone-deep devotion to Edwin.

I have noticed that in instances (at least with DBDA fic) where the idea for the fic isn't so interwoven with whose POV it'll be told in, I kind of lean towards writing Edwin POV (with Payneland works anyway)? I'm still not entirely sure why that is, but 6.5 out of my 10 posted dbda fics are Edwin POV, and even more of my current WIPs are in his POV (for instance, every one of those Honey, it's Easier companion fics so far I'm imagining writing from his POV). maybe it's because I enjoy getting in his head and writing in his super eloquent, long-winded prose? maybe it's because I'm half in love with Charles and really like writing Charles through his eyes? maybe it's because Charles's emotions hurt me to write firsthand? idk but Edwin is my little bestie and I like to write his thoughts very much. OOH OR maybe it's also because it's fun to write how fucking unhinged and horny he is internally knowing Charles is seeing him all prim and proper LMAO (in the case of smut)

anyway THANK YOU so very much for asking and enabling me to go off the shits rambling about one of my little stories!! I enjoyed it greatly and I hope you enjoyed reading all of it <3

end of year director's cut ask game

[mitskook]

a very mitskook 2023 wrap-up

hi everyone

so i didn't write very much in 2023, that much is apparent. now i'm not gonna sit here act like that's a massive loss considering the vast amount of extremely talented writers that produced wonderful work this year, but i am still disappointed in myself from, i guess, a labour of love perspective. i look at the work i have contributed to the fandom over the years and i still have more i want to add, more stories i want to tell (trust me the wip folder makes me weep too).

but every time i wanted to write, the idea of making a love story made me so miserable i had to scrub it from my head. and worse, when i pushed past that obvious discomfort, the love in those stories soured into resentment, rage, and a cruelty i couldn't justify (to this audience at least). particularly with tsdverse, this next installment is about m'boys really grappling with conflicts that have no easy answers (if they have answers at all) and man am i so fucking glad i wrote that flashforward with heejin to keep a north star on where they would end up because if i hadn't, i would've completely shattered them in a misdirected fireball of righteous grief. im glad i had that to hold on to bc i haven't had much else.

my 2023 has been. uh. trying amongst the good stuff (and i promise there was some good stuff) but not this. my mum had a heart attack, i was fired for not coming back to work straight after her surgery, and i was couch surfing and unemployed for long enough i felt like i'd wrecked my life forever. and, of course, i was mourning my relationship that ended at the end of last year, and to be honest i'm still not done with that. that's the absolute joy and misery of tying your heart to someone you're hoping will be around forever: your eyes don't see anything the same anymore, certain songs that come on shuffle make you break down on the tube, you realise huge swathes of your social media presence, including ao3, were built for one person and it wasn't you, and now? all those things are monuments to the emptiness you feel every time you remember they're not in your life anymore.

to be extremely clear, i'm not blaming my ex for these feelings, and if anyone harasses them on my behalf i will personally hunt you down and gut you with a knitting needle, but in missing them as much as i do i realised how inextricable they were from my writing process. i mostly wrote fic to make them happy, to hear their praise and notes and excitement to read the rest, and that was unfair on everyone; me, them, and you (if you look forward to my work, i don't wanna presume lmao). that's too much pressure to put on someone who just wasn't interested in bangtan rpf anymore, and that's normal, it's okay to move on from that, but it meant even before the breakup i didn't know who i was doing it for anymore. that level of directionlessness (<- not a word but whatever) gummed up those creative gears until they had no choice but to stop.

anyway to maybe cap this pity party a bit, i want to start sharing my writing more on here, and i won't wait for people to clamour to let me know that that's wanted bc again, i need to start rebuilding my confidence in my writing and feeling out where i fit into this community after basically silently moping around for a full year. i want to sincerely thank everyone who's ever read my work. i won't promise to do anything but my best, and in the meantime i'll give all the snippets to you.

lots of love

zeeb "hyperlight" mitskook