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asexualzoro · 10 months

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it's december 9th, meaning today is my 23rd birthday (which is my favorite number!), which means it's time for...

Lew Writes Wrapped 2023!!!

im including anything that happened after my last bday, so we have some works from december as well. this one's a bit of a weird one for the total word count, you'll see why

it's all treebark from my sideblog / alt ao3. i cannot change. i will not change. for these im just gonna specify the relationship that's the main focus bc thats easier than fandom bc all but like one are third life

dandelion wishing

(Dec, 2.4k, treebark, oneshot) (link)

op movie 6 au for dogwarts in which Martyn is the baron and Ren doesn't know he's dead

id actually plotted out a whole third life au for this movie like months prior and really wanted to write it, so i took it for treebark week and focused it just on these two. it's my fave movie of all time and i obvs had to give it to my fave completely dead team <3

i will admit tho. it did make me back search martyns twitter to see if hes ever posted abt watching this movie. bc i know he likes One Piece and i realized this would bring me into the danger zone (he hasnt ever posted abt it if hes seen it)

A Romance Route for the Doomed Villain?!?

(Dec, 5k, treebark, oneshot) (link)

treebark dating sim isekai parody that spiraled out of my control made in a day-long possession

im still baffled by this one. why was the response to this one so insane?? there was smth in the water the day i posted this bro. a 1:2 kudos to hits ratio for the entire first day is literally fucking unbelievable. 70 comments?? what hold did this fic have on you people. i got fic written about this one?? my friends goncharov'd me in front of my face

really fucking fun to write and the insane response was smth im always gonna remember. i appreciate you guys so much

treesekai also turns a year old in a few days!

Until the Angels Realize You're Not One of Them

(Feb, 7.2k, emerald duo, oneshot) (link)

a traitor phil au which was mostly just me talking about all the reasons i love technoblade

this one... wasnt actually written this year for the most part? i didnt want to not acknowledge it, since it's on my ao3 in this year, but i wont be able to count it toward the total

still. traitor phil au my beloved. hearing him say on his stream he and techno wanted to do a betrayal arc made me feel insane bc i already had this written at the time

missing or obstructed

(2022-present, 12.9k, Grian & Ren, ongoing) (link)

post 3L fic about Ren and Grian seeking out closure with a lot of funny little sleep metaphors

same deal as the last fic, i, uh dont think i actually wrote anything new for missing or obstructed this year either? just uploaded chapters i wrote last year,,, i didnt wanna now acknowledge it, but i wont count this in my total later

i miss her. one day ill actually sit down and write more missing or obstructed. in my doc im JUST at introducing Martyn and i havent written it yet

to reach my mangled debut

(Sept, 4.2k, treebark week, ongoing) (link)

it wouldnt be me if i didnt have an execution somewhere in here. another op au!

THIS. I LOVE HER. when rev and i were plotting out the whole storyline for smop renchanting i was begging please give me this scene i need it and i had so much fun writing it. i rlly need to finish soon but i haven’t had time but please. please check out smop. she’s top of my priority list to update

Three-Dog Night

(Sept, 6.7k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

BIG DOG. beauty and the beast au!

god im so fond of this au. there’s some rlly good scenes written for this and unposted bc i just need to link them together. honestly i think if i took a month and focused it on this fic alone i could fucking finish it but i don’t have the time ;-;

that said i’m so enamored w this au genuinely. o dunno what else to say i just think. puppy

Cover Me In Roses

(Sept, 3.3k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

lamplight roleswap! put Martyn in a flower pot

i don’t feel as motivated to work on this one when i have lamplight unfinished so it’s lower on my priorities but know i have like an entire arc of this written and unposted. we just have a few paths for this one and i have to decide which one to use

it’s so wild to me lamplight has like. aus. like this isn’t even the only one? a roleswap. that’s insane? it’s wild that you all like lamplight enough i can even get away with this

First Sign of a House Fire

(Sept, 2k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

i love superhero stories for two reasons: plots about secrets and adapting the characters to give them powers. this had smth fun for both of them

yellow rose isn’t super high on my list of priorities to update (i think the oneshot is interesting on its own) but one day,,,, it’s part of the many aus cherri and i have but it’s the longest for sure. the doc for just this au is like 100k words long on its own. at the time i draft this cherri and i are actively writing smth else for it in another tab. theres like 4 offshoots and im obsessed w all of them. we had to make ocs about this one. i’m excited to eventually add more to this series

actually that’s one of the scenes i’m most excited for and most dreading adding. we made a backstory oc and im SO attached to him and im excited to post a thing out there w him but. ough. whatever cringe is dead i’ll get there eventually and brute force my way into attaching you to our funky little robot guy

also love that this fic forced me to be decided on a docv characterization that i have to stick to. he may be a canon guy to martyn’s vtuber lore but he’s my oc now too

Blindsided

(Sept, 2k, treebark week, ongoing) (link)

pirate au and royal au based on a big secret and also stuffing a guy in a box and it's all stupid dramatic literally what else do you want or need in life

this is my wife. my favorite. my most beloved. blindsided gives me new illnesses and diseases. i have just one scene to write before i can update it and then i can continue unleashing her. god i love this fic the drama of it is SO fun.

the funny thing abt blindsided is i know all the plot chronologically but now how to Present it which is part of why i haven’t continued too much. eventually i will but until then know that one of the scenes im sitting on which has been fully written is one i think about constantly. hopefully when i post it cherri’ll let free the comic she did for it

i actually have the ending of this fic written i just need to get there lmfao. second on my priority list after smop i think

Cradle of the Leviathan

(Sept, 1.5k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

i just love mer aus man. whats the point of it all if you cant have mer aus. just get a big ol fish

i have the ending of this au written as well and literally so little of the lead up. but this is pretty low on my priorities. i think this one stands just fine on its own. mer aus are nice like that

we actually have a few mer aus but for now i’ll be focusing on this one. i do have a few sweet post story things written for this one. maybe one day i’ll write enough to post em lmao

Lamplight AU

(2022-present, 47k, treebark, ongoing) (link)

renchanting dnd/fantasy au, martyn's a paladin and ren's a lamp

so i started this au last year. my wrapped last year said my total was 20k, so that means this year's total is.... 27k!

and… it was just lamplight’s birthday and i did all my appreciation for the fic and its readers then, but god. i love this fic so much and i love you all who have read it and been so kind about it. the amount of popularity it has makes it a bit nerve wracking to work on, but i still really want to see it finished. i hope to see the bulk of it done by this time next year!

Six Sentence Sunday

six sentence sunday is a challenge where i try to post six sentences i wrote that week every sunday, to keep me writing every week of the year! i do it over on my writing blog, @driflew

i did not keep up on my six sentences,,, i had a lot of sunday fencing tournaments. i did for ~33 weeks this year! thats a pretty good amount! i’ll have to be more on top of it next year tho

unpublished work

the last few years i havent included unpublished work, but with the extreme bulk of it, i wanted to note it down. cherri @/cherrifire and i have been writing a lot back and forth at each other in discord dms this year, and i wanted to include those in my count! bc holy fucking shit is there a lot of them

i didn’t include collab pieces, just pieces i wrote alone. i also only included the renchanting aus i share w cherri and scarian aus i share w flowey, nothing else—no unfinished lamplight or other independent pieces or oneshots, no original fiction for class, nothing. i also missed a few u haven’t moved to docs yet. so i’m lowballing by a few. thousands. of words

the total for those is...... 135k words! there is,,, something wrong with me

total and end notes

our total this year is...

187512 words!

that might be my highest word count yet! because i caught treebark disease. wild.

something really fun about this year to me is i really loved everything i wrote.

if you want to get me a gift or support me on my birthday… maybe try reading my work and reblogging it or leaving a comment! you can find my writing at driflew or skelew on ao3, follow my writing blog at @driflew, or even consider tipping my kofi!

thank you for sticking with me and supporting me this year! i really appreciate it! hopefully i can break 100k next year too!

#lew writes wrapped #lew writes

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archangelsunited · 1 year

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Hi AUfriend <3

Excuse me marching in here unannounced. I sent some asks to Mareena and Para, and well, I thought that perhaps you might also like these questions. (Feel free to do it in your own time or ignore as spoons allow. <3)

I know we love to talk about breaking the rules in writing and obviously, that not every piece of advice is one-size-fits all, but there is a lot to say about being able to speak with each other about what we have learned during our journey. I was wondering if you wouldn't share. (I also plan on poking some of the others to see what more we can shake out. The more the merrier, no?)

What is the most useful/helpful pieces of advice you ever received during your education in relation to writing?

Once you started to write, what was the most important thing that you learned about writing or its process?

Has your real life had any influence on your writing? If so, how?

What advice would you give to aspiring writers (be it fanfiction or original)?

I would, in fact, like these questions. Give me all the questions. I broke my own advice and deleted a paragraph of this and started over. Then I left and came back a few hours later.

1.) The most useful advice?

Your job is to tell a story. (Stop trying to push multiple things in a narrative, stop trying to impress people, stop wondering what the audience wants, you have one goal- anything extra is extra.) Motivation will not support you, but discipline will. (I wrote everyday, two days off a week. I did this for a year. That year has given me more stamina in terms of writing than any amount of inspiration ever has. Its the reason some stories can exist at all.) The job of a first draft is to exist. (It can't be good until its bad, it can't be bad if it doesn't exist.)

2.) Once you started to write, what was the most important thing you learned?

<Trying to remember when I started writing> Start small? I started a lot of big projects before I got comfortable doing small projects, and that hurt me in the long run, I think. It isn't a lack of discipline or ability on your part, don't get offended. Its just, small things are a huge confidence builder. I have so many unfinished works on my laptop, that it made me feel like a failure. Having several small completed works helped me have the confidence and know-how to look at a big project and go "no big deal." Also, contrary to popular belief, people do actually like small bits of fanfiction, gen fanfiction even. Short stories do have a market. Those small prompts are really helpful in boosting confidence and practicing in a non-stressful environment. Also, it helps work maintain an even amount of skill. My skills at the beginning of a story are much better than at my endings.

Technical stuff: Warming up will save me time and stress.. I can spend two hours looking at a blank screen or I can spend five minutes on typing exercises and ten minutes free writing. Sitting at a desk is more productive and better than sitting on my bed. I need to have some sort of caffeine and or water next to me. Walking beforehand eases out the jitters. I do better when I am not posting everytime I hit 1 or 5k.

Brand new information: Having a group of writers talking to you and encouraging you about your project makes writing a LOT easier. They give me a positive word and suddenly things start getting accomplished. Its magical. Being dependent on other people for motivation is not healthy, but it IS normal to need affirmation- my mind thinks of it as a really good dose of speed.

3.) Has your real life had any influence on your writing?

I had two immediate responses to this. One was, "I hope so" the other was "Damn, I hope not." A few things that have probably gotten into my writing: 1.) My relationship with disability 2.) Sometimes people have to live in unhealthy and uncomfortable situations. They live and their lives are still WORTH living, even if things aren't perfect. 3.) Sometimes life changes directions completely and you aren't you you thought you would be by the end. 4.) Some of my favorite fic authors 5.) My family history

There is also a Screwtape Letter's quote that really put my writing into perspective, or really any skilled labor. It eases a lot of insecurity, if this is what I am striving towards. > “The Enemy wants to bring the man to a state of mind in which he could design the best cathedral in the world, and know it to be the best, and rejoice in the fact, without being any more (or less) or otherwise glad at having done it than he would be if it had been done by another. The Enemy wants him, in the end, to be so free from any bias in his own favour that he can rejoice in his own talents as frankly and gratefully as in his neighbour's talents--or in a sunrise, an elephant, or a waterfall.”

4.) What advice would I give?

You have to let yourself suck. You have to let it be bad. You get good by being bad. Writing is an imperfect craft, and if you spend your time trying be perfect- its just going to add a layer of misery to what should be a joy. My friends and family have to drag me away from writing these days. I get irritable if I don't write, because the last little thing that was keeping me from writing- what was filling me with dread- was that need for perfection.

Stop hiding your work. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

Do your time letting yourself work through it feeling like a chore. That is a normal part of the journey, feeling like each word is coming at a crawl and "I have no idea why I do this" and "This isn't good." I would compare it to doing scales or running laps. Its hard, repetitive, useless work- but after you've built up the skill and endurance, you can focus on the story you are writing- not if you can do it at all.

#fanfiction #writing advice #ask

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bunathebunny · 9 months

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2023 End of Year (AO3 edition)

Remember to look at the tags before reading! :3c

January

xiao's no good horrible heat (E-rated, 1.5k)

Omegaverse

Noncon elements

Bestiality

"He has a lot of adepti, you see. Perhaps one of them would make a good mate for you." "But we can't let you get defiled by an unworthy alpha before that now, can we?" She is smiling, graceful and gentle even as she calls for the hounds she keeps.

February

the heart is a wild thing (Not Rated, 314)

Implied/Referenced Noncon

Freestyle

"I have no idea what I wrote" the fic

love is painful and to love is to suffer

March

reunion (E-rated, 1.3k)

Implied Anal

Spitting into mouth

Coming in pants

it has been a long time since ganyu and yae miko saw each other

April

mamma mia (M-rated, 1.8k)

Implied/Referenced Noncon

Non-consensual Body Modification

"man I have mommy issues" the fic

"You," she calls, because they knows not of his name and does not care to find out when their own lives are precarious as they are. "The Lady has summoned you," and with a look from top to toes, she adds with a wrinkle of her nose: "You are to come to her Ladyship, posthaste."

May

ting! ting! (pom-pom is coming) (M-rated, 1.2k)

Fluff without Plot

Implied Sexual Content

Implications of public sex

semi-public cuddling

June

every night in my dream (i see you, i feel you) (E-rated, 5k)

Dream Sex

Size Difference

Monsterfucking

He is dressed exactly as he had been when he was ushered to bed.

July

to hold (M-rated, 1k)

Omegaverse

Ruts

Alpha nesting

Still, he drinks in the warmth of Jing Yuan’s hands on his body like a starving man. Hoards each and every bit of affections that Jing Yuan shows him like collecting the most priceless treasures known to men.

August

(un)change (E-rated, 5.4k)

Omegaverse

Bitching

A bit of piss

Yanqing presented as an alpha :3c

September

flush it out (E-rated, 2.6k)

Dream Sex

Blowjobs

"Jing Yuan is a bicycle" the fic

Lan is not one prone for possessiveness. However, they do not cede what is theirs.

October

first snow flowers of the year (T-rated, 1k)

Role Reversal

Euthanasia

Hurt No Comfort

The only thing he voluntarily chose, even though he could have not chosen anything, was to be Jing Yuan's: master and caretaker and beloved, all in one.

November

lion dance (E-rated, 2.1k)

Animal Transformation

Monsterfucking

Implied Bestiality

It is well-known that General Jing Yuan enjoys breeding lions.

December

counting sheeps (Not Rated, 305)

Dying and coming back to life

Character death (implied)

No Comfort

YQY Week Day 1+2: Sleep + Fake

#hsr #genshin impact

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danpuff-ao3 · 2 years

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Self-Celebration

me: oh no, I've gotten nothing done, I'm a failure

them: wow, Danni, how do you do so much????

I, maybe, need a good reminder of all of my accomplishments, so here we go. Everything I've accomplished this year so far. That I remember, anyway.

Threw together my HP Astro series; edited and formatted and posted to AO3 in time for Bethy's birthday!

Got White Lies & Silver Bells ready to go live on AO3 as soon as Hoggywartyxmas reveals were up!

Wrote Again (and Again) on a whim, to accompany A-Loveunlaced's Snarry art

Wrote a BUNCH of random drabbles for a House of Snarry challenge. 6 of which I also posted to AO3! (A handful of which I have not yet.)

Wrote 5 fics for Kinkuary! 2 of which are in the same universe as Contempt. 2 of which are not yet posted (waiting for the 27th and 28th!) 1 of which (the longest of which) I wrote, edited, and posted same day! The day after I had a tooth extraction.

Wrote 3 fics for Chan Fest! All of which I wrote, edited, and posted same day. 2 of which are 5k+ words!

Various words in various other places.

Brainstorming for other fics.

Co-modding @hp-chan-fest

Starting @hp-fruit-fest (and running solo, RIP me)

Modly duties on the Snarry Sanctuary Discord server

Keeping on top of my AO3 comments! (You know, responding to them.)

New HP Astro posts (Lily, Snily, Luna, and Ron (to be posted 3/1/23!))

Made several ship and fic related playlists on Spotify

Made TONS of fic banners on Canva.

Several rec lists! 8 posted so far, and a few queued up!

Got my home office all set up and cozy!

Brainstorming ideas with friends

Helping alpha/beta/cheer read for friends

Try to stay involved in the community/socializing on Discord, Tumblr, Twitter, Reddit.

Supporting other creators as much as possible!

Finally took the time to learn how to create work skins on AO3!

And site skins!! And finally got all fic stats and personal stats hidden (for mental health!)

Fought with site skin codes on behalf of a friend, to get it tuned to her liking, so that she has a clean and stress-free environment if/when she returns to fandom! (The perks of having your friends' AO3 login haha!) (This took like an hour I stg and I was being way too stubborn to stop fiddling and consult a guide.) (But oh well, I did the dang thing!!!!)

Started compiling resources I need to begin book binding! Still a ways off before I can start cuz supplies are not cheap, but I'm on the right path!

ALSOOOOO

Working a full time job

Spending time with my longtime partner (my beloved Eddie-bear!)

I actually watched a still-newish show for once! Wednesday!

Finished reorganizing/decluttering my home

Baked...a lot. Mostly cookies. Going to bake brownies this weekend!

Many doctor's appointments

And medication changes

I filed my taxes!!

Oh yeah and started being a teensy bit more sociable at work! I had a nice long conversation about ASTROLOGY the other day which was fun and great and awesome.

Oh let's not forget about all my work accomplishments! I made 8 years with my company. All the people coming and going (which I get to deal with.) Our census going way up. Many IT calls and playing IT person for small tech problems. Many errands run. Oh yeah and all the new tasks I get to do because our funder and our corporate office BOTH love changing expectations frequently.

So like...there's stuff I wish I could do and haven't been able to yet. But I'm far from a failure! Or lazy, for that matter. I am a lady of ACCOMPLISHMENT.

#danpuff stuff #personal #self-love is self-care #gotta recognize my wins #my therapist is going to be so proud

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4th-make-quail · 9 months

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Asks for a Fic Writer!

Tagged by @eemamminy-art and @nateharmonica thank you!!

1. how many works do you have on AO3? 138! Which is weird cos it feels like only 2 minutes ago I was excited about hitting 100 lol

2. what's your total AO3 word count? 401,149 total

3. what fandoms do you write for? My top 5 written for fandoms are FFXIV (27), Resident Evil (26), FFXII (15), inFamous (13) and FFXV (13)! But I have a load of others as well - atm it's Baldur's Gate 3, alternated with my perennial beloved FFXII

4. what are your top five fics by kudos? Point of No Return - Resident Evil, Chris/Wesker, time travel fix-it fic Aphrodisiac - Overwatch, Reaper/Soldier 76, collaring and gloves kink Like a Drug - Resident Evil, Chris/Wesker, STARS era drug bust Filters - FFXV, Prompto/Ignis, 5 things fic about Prompto's photo taking Between Death and Ascension - Magnus Archives, Jon/Gerry, post season 3 fix it that got immediately jossed upon s4 releasing lol. Honestly I'm amazed this one is here, considering Jon/Gerry is a bit of a rarepair. Or at least, it was back then!! I have no idea of the current state of TMA fandom (and don't wanna know, ugh lmao)

5. do you respond to comments? Always as a rule, but usually quite a long time after I get them lksgfg

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Has to be From the Flames of the Fire, I Feel You, part 4 of my Sartauvoir/Basch series, because it's the fic where Basch dies at the end, and it finishes off with a notice from Noah about the death and funeral arrangements. I cried on my lunch break at work writing this fucker lmao

8. do you get hate on fics? I've not had anything since my ffn days, where I got a very mean comment about OOC. I mean, it was true, but MAN.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind? It's very rare that I don't write smut! I think the yuletide fic I wrote was the first time in years lol. Either way, I like to write kinky porn with feelings and character study shit

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written? Not any more, but the craziest crossover with the most specific-ass audience was a British Comedy RPF crossed with FFX, where David Mitchell is a summoner and Charlie Brooker and Robert Webb are his guardians. It's called Spira Infinita, and I never did end up finishing it lmao. Oops. Either way, I had a blast writing it and I still think it was fucking good, all 9 kudos of it!! God... this just made me remember I also wrote a brooker/mitchell crossover with mgs. I was on some shit back then I tell you what

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of! I'm not big enough for that, I think

12. have you ever had a fic translated? I thiiiink someone once asked me, but I forgot which fic it was tbh!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes!! I co-wrote one of my fave Ashe/Basch/Vossler fics with my friend when we got assigned each other for an ff_land exchange - Five Moments of Desire. It was really fun, we had a great time!

14. what's your all-time favourite ship? GOD this is hard!!! I think Nero/Credo tbh, I never get tired of thinking about them, even as sadly underrated as they are. Also Sartauvoir/Basch is highly up there, I've never been seized with such an insane streak of inspiration for a ship. They got me in their clutches and no mistake!!

15. what's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I don't actually have much in the way of wips, but I do have 5k of a Sart/Basch AU where Sart channels his fenex summoning to bring Basch back to life, but it stalled a little due to a combo of scheduling for other things, other ships taking over my brain for a bit, and honestly the general lack of fandom for them? I have a few close friends I met because of the ship, but getting such low response to things is really demoralising and makes it hard to continue. I DO want to finish it for sure, but atm I am too gripped by other ships so idk if it'll happen.

16. what are your writing strengths? I think dialogue for sure, and characterisation.

17. what are your writing weaknesses? Fight scenes x_x Which is annoying, because I love them and have a lot of sparring/fighting related kinks!!! I persevere, but I hate every moment of writing them lol

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Uhh nothing I've ever done! I think it'd be fine if you're fluent in that language OR if you have a trusted friend who is, who can give you actual sense-making sentences, but otherwise, do not!

19. first fandom you wrote for? Baby's first fandom was handwritten Redwall/Discworld crossover in reporter's notebooks as a very young child, but my first fandom-fandom was ffvii, where I wrote a frankly terrible Reno/Vincent fic! And idek why cos I don't ship it at all? I think I just had a boner for both of them and wanted to get it out. It is still on ffn alas, but eugh.

20. favourite fic you've written? Honestly I think it's my SartBasch series, Body Politics. It caters directly to my own id, and I think it's really good! I actually planned it out as a cohesive series AND actually finished writing it! Proud of myself lol. And I just.... *clenches fist* love those old men.....

----- tagging people, if u wanna do this, then consider urself tagged!!

#quailfic #ask quail #thank u for the tags!!

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hideyseek · 11 months

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/BARGES IN/ HELLO BUDDY REVERSE UNO CARD FANFIC ASK MEME 🥺, 🤡 , 🛒, ⌛

HIIIIIIIIIII ENNJI <3 I LOVE 2 BE UNO REVERSE CARDED!! also haha sorry these got ... quite long (i can talk about how long it takes me to write a thing for SO LONG buddy) so i'm putting the whole thing under a cut.

from these fanfic writer emoji asks

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

mmmmmmm.... had to think about this one for a bit because the types of interactions i tend to write for kakehai aren't actually the ones that put me in MY feels, haha. but i think moments of very small and mundane domesticity are moments i really like -- there's an almost off-hand kind of intimacy in that kind of sharing space that i'm really compelled by. that idea of like, oh this person is so familiar to me that things like reaching around them or being passed something by them is all happening somewhat subconsciously.

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?

ohoho. i do think that i've gotten a lot less funny over the years, both as a person in how i interact with the world and also in the kind of writing i'm doing. part of this i think is just the particular bits of haiji/kazetsuyo that i latched onto (in particular contrast to the lighthearted, laugh-at-the-narrator, very romantic type of fic i primarily wrote for inception).

anyway, that to say i actually couldn't think of anything when i was answering this so then i went down a rabbit hole of google docs bc surely i'd written something i thought was funny in the last year and genuinely all i could find (though admittedly i didn't search very hard) was this snippet from a kunikidazai pwp ficlet i started for bcsdp when kunikida's been lost in thought for a while:

“Ku-ni-ki-da-kun,” Dazai prompts. “What’s happening upstairs?” “Nothing,” Kunikida snaps, and wishes he’d said none of your business as soon as Dazai smirks.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

ok well i was going to say "i don't know but i skimmed through all my posted fic on ao3 and i had two whole fics that involved the pov character being a forger of some kind and a core romance-related theme being 'what is real vs what is valuable' which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice".

but then i remembered that i have like, three or four wips across a couple fandoms that are all basically "what happens to my blorbo guy after a big, life-changing experience ends and then he's left adrift and has to figure out how to be a person?" so i'll say that! i'm really compelled by the idea of having a like, identity-defining project and then having that like -- end abruptly and having a character still have to be themselves without it.

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

SO LONG. ohh my god SO SO LONG. well okay that's not true, it really depends. one of my big "writing goals" (incredibly abstract goal, i would not say i'm working toward it) is to write faster.

i've gotten to a point where i can, more or less, rough out an outline of a 2-4k fic focusing on 1-2 character relationships with a single reasonably straightforward plot and no particular thematic intention in an afternoon, and probably draft it in a week (and revise in another week) if i'm not doing much else or the idea is really compelling and i don't get overthinky. a year or two ago, that would have taken me maybe a month or two of very like, focused and intense writing. but also there's like ... something about the 4k threshold that i just never can really cross with a fic like this.

but in terms of drafting and going from the start of an idea to an actual fic i am incredibly, incredibly slow. most fics that i'm writing now are more than 4k (even the mini version of heist!au is shaping up to be 5k ish) and are probably ... 3-5 drafts? for narrative!fic i've spent maybe 2-3 years now putting snippets in a evernote doc and drafted the first 1/4 to 1/3 of the story literally 4 times in the last year -- i'm like a chapter and a half into draft 4 now and that's taken already 2-3 weeks (and this was genuinely a fluke from the recent holiday weekend) and in my mind this is still a "first draft".

ok wow this was possibly more than you desire to know about how long it takes me to write things however haha i'm still not done! the thing that has been keeping me moderately sane about all this is this FANTASTIC BOOK called the art of slow writing by louise desalvo which i have also been reading incredibly slowly (i am about 60% of the way through and it has been since like, february of this year) but the book is this really wonderful (to me) collection of both desalvo's process and perspective of writing a novel, and a ton of referencing other writers and how goddamn long it took them to write things (with lots of gentle and loving mockery of writing as a practice, which i really enjoy). anyway! i recommend it -- whenever i get frustrated about how long a fic is taking i'll go read a chapter of this (they are all very short) and calm down about it.

#hidey speaks #ask game #ahaha sorry ennji this got uh SO LONG. when i'm on the laptop i simply type so so so much and never ever stop #hope u enjoy !

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spacexcowgirl · 1 year

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20 questions for fic writers

here's some stuff about me, thanks for the tag @magswrite <3

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

Four!

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

169,069 (double 69 this is so embarrassing)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently only the marauders, but I've written for other fandoms in the past. On this account, my old Weasley fics can be found, and then I've written for a few other fandoms in other places.

4. What are you top 5 fics by kudos?

just like Maggie I do not have 5 fics lol so this is just my 4 from highest to lowest !!

we'll be just fine (even when I lose my mind) : 16k words, James loses his memories after a quidditch fall and doesn't remember his relationship with Regulus.

Foolish One : 5k word one shot. friends with benefits. miscommunication. mutual pining.

Mutually Assured Destruction : 113k word WIP. a "how to lose a guy in 10 days" au.

where milk and honey flow : 34k word WIP. band/fame au, multiple pairings, multiple tropes. this will be a long one.

5. Do you respond comments? Why or why not?

oh yes! I try to always reply, but sometimes it slips my mind and I forget. Most of the time I get to them, though! I love comments, and I appreciate when a reader takes time out to comment, so I want to show that appreciation by replying.

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

so, I only have 2 completed fics, but it's no secret that all of my stuff is happy endings. if I had to pick, I'd say we'll be just fine. it's still a happy ending, but everything isn't perfect, you know?

7. What is a fic your wrote with the happiest ending?

again, only 2 completed fics, so at the moment, probably Foolish One? I think my long fics will beat that in the end though lol.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

nope! I have very nice commenters

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

hmmm hard to answer. have I in the past? yes. have I in any of my current fics? no, not yet. but wm&hf will have smut in it eventually.

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

nope!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

mmm at most I've had it reposted without my permission and without credit on another site, but have never had like a fic idea stolen.

12. Have you ever has a fic translated?

mmm no, but I have had one turned into audio format for accessibility?

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

eeee as Maggie said, we have something in the works ;) something fun, very excited about it, but it's neither of our first priorities so it'll be a bit before its done!

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

ooooh that's so hard. maybe my judgements clouded bc I'm so hyper fixated, but I do think it's jegulus. maybe that will change tho.

15. What’s a wip you what to finish but doubt you ever will?

the only thing I have started that I don't think I'll ever go back to is this mcd fic that's like a plane crash situation? everything else I fully intend to finish.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've gotten comments praising my prose and characterizations a few times, which really means the world to me. I feel like I have a pretty good grasp on grammar and clear ideas of what I want to happen.

17. What are you writing weaknesses?

okay, two things I think: first, I feel like I meander too much. takes me too long to get to the point, like I'm so fucking wordy so everything is always so slow moving. second, I feel like I'm so bad at like... describing surroundings and stuff.

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

I use google translate and I take any and all comment suggestions and make changes!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

oh my god I don't even want to say. (hints: RPF, a dance crew, I was in 6th grade). After that one, I kinda abandoned reading/writing fic until I was 19? and when I came back to it, I started in The 100 fandom!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

just going off of the ones I'm currently working with, wm&hf is my favorite. I've been brain rotting about it since like February, I have so many plans, and it just feels a lot more like something I'm really writing for me.

#tag game #mags tag

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theashemarie · 2 years

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First of all, I’m in LOVE with Aftershocks! It’s everything I’ve been looking for in a post-movie fic. Buf I’m super curious about how Aftershocks came to be and how you guys manage to create a cohesive story with such a large group of writers!! How did you even find each other? How does this all work?

omg I'm so glad you're enjoying so much!! :DDD!! Thank you for reaching out to let me/us know! (This got long, so I'm putting part of it behind a read more.)

Okay so for a bit of history the five of us have been friends for years and @katiemonz basically dragged me kicking and screaming into watching Rise a few weeks before the movie came out because she wanted to rewatch it and she knew I would like it. And, basically, I latched onto it super hard super quickly. When this happens, I do the typical special interest thing where I talk about it nonstop and make my other friends watch the stuff I'm obsessed with. First my brother in autism (Ben) @dunkalfredo fell into my trap and soon enough we were off to the races. @octolingkiera and @mcbethins followed shortly thereafter.

The five of us have always been writers in some form or another, so, after we all watched the movie together on premier night, it felt natural to float the idea of a giant collab fic where we each take a POV and run through the aftermath of the movie. I volunteered to post first because I'm the fastest writer out of all of us, with a promised post-date of the next Saturday (a week after the movie dropped) and I got to work. Originally, the fic was supposed to just be five chapters--one from each of us--but the plot line we agreed on turned out to be a lot bigger than we intended, so I got to the end of the first day in my first chapter, looked at the projected two weeks we were supposed to cover, and consulted the council with my worries. I was already 5k words in and there was no way I was going to finish in a timely or concise manner, so we agreed to bump it out to 10 chapters (2 each).

While writing my second chapters, I cracked 10k words and realized that we would need 15 chapters. Everyone agreed.

As to how we wrangle this thing: what I wanted to happen was for everyone to write simultaneously, but that didn't exactly happen. What ended up going down was I did the initial exploratory writing with Mikey's chapters, established a timeline, and wrote the whole thing, and then everyone else kinda used my chapters as a skeleton to hang theirs off of. There's nothing wrong with this and it ended up working out, but it did/does require a lot of cross-referencing from my collaborators, while I was allowed to kinda just write what I wanted. It's a fair tradeoff, I suppose; I had to do a lot of the legwork, so I got to set up the timeline and write to my heart's content.

We brainstormed a lot on Discord, but a lot of it actually happened between Katie and me because we live together. Emotional Trauma Uno actually started as a sort of joke, but then I took it and spun it into a serious recovery ritual. I'm glad that it came into the fic, but it wasn't something we discussed ahead of time and I'm grateful to my collaborators for running with it. I remember the moment when I introduced the poker chips, because originally the Uno games were supposed to be a lot like the one that happens at the beginning of Mikey's third chapter: no chips, just raw vulnerability.

For cohesion: everyone was really good at latching onto small details that were mentioned in other chapters, and we tried to run major character beats past each other. (For example, when Ben wanted to have Mikey use a poker chip on Donnie in his chapter, he made sure to okay it with me so that I could slip a reference to it into my chapter). I also edit every chapter (except Ben's because he's a good noodle) and read everything as a sort of final continuity check.

Even now, as we pump out the final chapters, we're cross-referencing and running things past each other. Kiera's working on a Splinter POV scene and McBethins has made sure to remind her that Raph already had a talk with Splinter; Ben made sure to ask me how many days occurred between events because Donnie is very attuned to the passage of time while the days blended together for Mikey; Katie is closely counting the blue chips the rest of the family has to use on Leo and running checks to make sure she hasn't missed any; when I was writing my chapters, I made sure to explain my thought process for non-Mikey character actions so everyone knew both how Mikey was perceiving their actions and how I was actually picturing them reacting to things.

Quite honestly, I've always wanted to do a giant collab like this, so it's been a LOT of fun! I didn't expect this story to balloon this much, and I certainly didn't expect it to be this fun and easy! Even with the few hiccups we experienced, it was a blast, and I can't wait to collaborate with my friends again!

#ashe talks #aftershocks #rottmnt fanfiction #ask #anon #lads

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cassyapper · 1 year

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2, 9, 11 and 12 for wwm/ta?

YAY THANK U FOR ASKING APOLLO ILYSM

ask game

2. What scene did you first put down?

this is a good question! it was intermission 1 actually, when jotaro finds kakyoin in the water tower and their ensuing conversation. i wrote it not intending for it to be anything other than some writing practice. at the time i didn't know i was gonna write out my part 4 au idea and in fact i wasn't even writing it from an angle of kakyoin living, but i was just trying my hand at writing the classic "what if jotaro found kakyoin's body and got a final word with him" thing. however later, when i had decided to write wwm/ta and got to intermission 1, i remembered that snippet and frnakly it was too good to just let rot so i ripped it and edited it a bit to paste for the intermission LOL

9. were there alternate versions of this fic?

YES. MANY. i've mentioned this before but wwm/ta lived in my head for over a year before i finally started writing it down so it evolved a LOT

to give an example of how different it used to be, in ~june 2020, i had it so that kakyoin was so mad at jotaro cause he was jolyne's godfather, meaning he saw up close how jotaro abandoning jolyne and her mom hurt them, and he was pissed as hell over it. later drafts changed this cause i realized jotaro "self isolation" kujo probably wouldnt have stayed in touch with kakyoin, either...

then of course the original version of what is now wwm/ta was intended to be from jotaro's pov, which i have also mentioned before. i love jotaro but im veyr glad i changed that, kakyoin is a lot of fun to write even if he is a brat <3

but yeah basically it's gone through a LOT of versions so to speak! it's part of why im glad i let it pressure cook for so long until it finally cemented an identity lol

11. what do you like best about this fic?

im gonna sound like an egomaniac but i think it's a pretty unique take on the part 4 kakyoin au and i really like the differences i've made from others i've seen, i think it makes for a more compelling narrative (even if it fucking sucks to write them being at each other's throats)(or more kakyoin at jotaro's throats). basically i think im #special and #unique and i think it makes my version stand out a lot <3

12. what do you like least about this fic?

HOW FUCKING LONG IT IS GOD i feel so fucking bad legitimately. i've always for as long as i've been writing, have had problems with length and even though i tried to mitigate that for this fic by keeping a goal of ~5k words a chapter, i routinely break that cap...esp for intermissions. it can be exhausting to write like this and i hae no doubts it's exhausting to read too but i hope the good outweighs the bad kjsn;s;js

thank you for asking apollo <3

#cass cries #wwm/ta #sssure #ask game

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davosmymaster · 2 years

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hi! i don’t know if you take requests, so if you don’t, totally ignore this but a) would you ever consider writing a part two to Fallen from Heaven, Grown On Earth? and b) if you take requests, could you write something abt touchstarved steven getting into a relationship with the reader & he’s totally obsessed with them. the reader is kind to marc when he fronts & gives him little touches & soon he’s in love with them too & he feels horrible, but one day he’s so stressed that he confesses & is crying/almost crying? & the reader cares for him & his anxiety & tells him that they love him too & steven is okay with it so long as they share? your current writing rocked my world & i feel like the specific way you characterize these two is perfect, and you could really do this idea justice if you’re up for it

Hello, anon! First of all, there will be part 2, although I cannot guarantee it will be a good one, bc some people are getting expectations and I'm actually getting a bit scared it wil dissapoint. Second, I did get inspired with your request and wrote something (I shouldn't have bc I have no time but I did, I should be sleeping rn, but srly, thank you). I don't know if it's how you liked it or what you expected, and I gave myself the freedom to add a few more things and plot. It's different from what I've done before, but I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you for the ask and all the love <3

TAGS AND WARNINGS - a lot of angst, like a lot, medical procedures (mentioned), blood, not beta read, I did a quick grammar check tho, could be read as poly if you want. Marc-centred.

PAIRINGS - Marc Spector x fem!reader (focus) ; Steven Grant x fem!reader

WORD COUNT - 5k.

SUMMARY - Steven gets a girlfriend. Unfortunately for Marc, that also means that he's part of that relationship, in a way. And when you move in, there's no going back.

I'M GETTING TO KNOW SOMEONE

The first time Marc sees you, he wakes up in your lap; and it's unofficial.

It takes him a moment to acknowledge his surroundings, after all he usually wakes up with the sound of Steven's alarm for work, even on motherfucking Sundays. The room is dark and the only source of light comes from a Disney movie playing in front of him. It's not his apartment either, the flat he got Steven in south London looks nothing like the half image he has from that angle.

He's about to jump right out of where he is, confront whoever else is in that room with him, when he feels your hand massaging his scalp, expert fingers knotted in his dark curls. His unmoving muscles relax even more than when he was asleep, somehow, and Marc has to actively retain a moan of satisfaction. Then he remembers.

Yeah, Steven said he was getting to know someone.

Steven had warned him about that. He felt like Marc should know, in case something happened, something like waking up in someone else's house with said person's fingers in his head; or maybe somewhere else. Steven had threatened him with two full-days of work with Donna if he didn't behave and/or ruined it. To be honest, Marc hadn't even paid attention to his rambling; it wasn't like any of Steven's relationships were serious enough, or long enough, for Marc to actually front near his dates. He had heard that speech a thousand times.

So he pretends to be asleep, which isn't difficult being in that situation. You seem so invested in the movie, mindlessly stroking his hair, that you don't notice the change in his breathing or how tense his shoulders got for half a second. Marc could have let Steven front, because the scene is private between him and you and Marc's just a demon getting hold of the body by accident. Plus, he doesn't know you, your face or your name. He only knows that your caresses are putting him to sleep, and that he's so comfortable and warm under the blankets that it takes him less than five minutes to go back to dreamland.

It was the first time someone touched him in a long while, even longer since someone had cuddled with him. He could understand how much Steven longed for affection, because unlike him, Steven never had a proper girlfriend; so it made sense that he got someone who loved touching and cuddling as much as Steven needed it. Marc couldn't complain, even though his conscience told him that what he was doing was slightly wrong.

But then he drifts off again.

The second time is Steven's idea, actually; and it's official.

Marc takes you to a steakhouse in Soho because Steven told him that you wanted to try it some time, and it's the perfect date —without being an actual date— because Steven's vegan but doesn't want you to go on your own or wait for weeks so you can go with your busy girlfriends. So in a way, it's a win-win situation.

It's a bit uncomfortable at the beginning, but you're funny and an excellent story-teller. The conversation revolves around the weather and the only link you both share, Steven; at least at the beginning. Then you mention a horror movie that both of you love and just like that he's invested in the conversation. Marc might not have a lot of time to watch tv, not when Steven is fronting most days and Marc only seems to front to carry out his duties as a masked vigilante for an old Egyptian fossil; but he does love a good horror movie, just like you, and Steven hates them with passion. That's one point for Spector.

After that, it could be said you two see each other often, which is not often enough having as little time fronting as Marc has, but enough to get along really well. Then one day Steven starts acting weird, organizing more and more dates that only include Marc and his own girlfriend —Steven's, not Marc's—, and a month later he finally understands why Steven's been such a damn pain in the ass about getting to know you. They are moving together. The three of them. Unfortunately.

Don't get him wrong, the girl is really nice, like really really nice, like you-have-memorized-how-he-likes-his-coffee-and-you-usually-ask-'coffee or tea?'-to-figure-out-who's-fronting kind of nice. And your conversations are not about Steven anymore, there's no more awkward silences. It could be said that you're friends, to an extent.

The conversation happens one morning. Marc's all happy with his five minutes of consciousness when Steven gets a full-length mirror next to the dining table and starts talking to it.

"I'm summoning you, idiot," he says, squinting at his reflection when Marc doesn't respond the first time he calls his name.

Steven's reflection in the mirro,r —Marc's invisible body— straightens his back and stops squinting, but only Steven can see.

"What do you want, now?" he asks, Marc is usually that friendly with Steven, even now that they get along as if they were actual brothers. "I'm not fixing the sink again, do it yourself," he crosses his arms. "And I'm not Khonshu, you don't summon me."

"First of all, this is not about the bloody sink, you arrogant," Steven says, his nose almost glued to the surface of the mirror. You chuckle behind it. You walk back from the bathroom, take something from the kitchen counter and sit next to Steven, a glass of orange juice in your hands. "Second, we're trying to be nice here, to you. Would be lovely if you were nice for once, you prick." Steven says.

They really do get along. It might not seem like it, but they do have fun with all the name-calling and arguments, you can't help but smile at the idea. It's just their love language.

Marc looks at you through the mirror, at your eyes looking straight at him. You're wearing one of Steven's hawaiian shirts and a short so short that he thinks you're naked for a second, then he realizes that the shirt is simply too big on you and covers it. You cannot actually see him; but you thought that Marc would feel better if you pretended you could.

Either way, he can sense Steven's eyes on him; even when Marc's actually locked somewhere in his own brain and not in the actual mirror. He hopes that Steven doesn't think he was checking you out, because he wasn't, but it's not like he's too worried about it either. Steven knows his girlfriend is a real beauty, and he's not a jealous man.

"Oh, Steven," Marc groans. "Please, please, tell me you didn't get her pregnant."

"Of course I didn't!" he almost shouts, jumping on the chair. "Are you bonkers? "

"Translate for me, darling," you whisper in his ear, still looking at the mirror as if you were asking for context while watching a movie; hoping that Marc doesn't hear. And of course he does. He's not in the fucking mirror, he has explained it a million times.

Marc's aware of the shift in Steven's voice when he talks to you. He mirrors you, whispering back.

"He asked if you're pregnant."

You laugh, hard. Marc feels something in his chest, something he hasn't felt for a long time; so much so, that he cannot quite label it. But Steven's grin while looking at you is so big that he wonders if what he's feeling is a Marc feeling or a Steven feeling. Could be both, though.

"Oh, god, no," you respond, still smiling. "No fucking way, man. You're not having children any time soon."

Steven crosses his arms, a proud grin on his face.

"The banana's well-dressed, cheers."

"Steven, you didn’t call our dick a banana, did you?" Marc squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head.

Steven huffs in responde and turns his body slightly at you, ready to serve as an interpreter, but he makes a weird face at the very last moment, slightly shaking his head. "I'm not translating that."

You take a pill out of the package you got from the kitchen counter, but start laughing again thanks to him, so you leave it back on the table. Steven decides to ask the question from the beginning, so you two can relax.

"We want to move in together," Steven says, he thinks that there's no better way to have this conversation than biting the bullet. "We wanted to check you were okay with it."

Marc doesn't have to think much about the answer.

"Look," he started. "I'm very happy for you two, but I got a really good deal for this apartment and the area is expensive as hell, so we're not selling it, let alone renting it."

Steven translates in a whisper. And this time is your turn to talk.

"We thought that maybe I could move in, here," you say, your anxious fingers squeezing the glass in your hands. Marc can't help but remember the soft touch in his scalp. "We thought that it would be easier to move my things here rather than moving one person," you point at the mirror "and one bookworm hoarder's worth of things," she points at Steven.

Steven turns to look at you as if you had insulted his precious Egyptian gods, which was your intention. Marc just laughs.

"Whose side are you on?" Steven asks.

"I like this woman," he's pointing at you when Steven looks back at the mirror. "I accept her in my house."

"Our house."

Marc rolls his eyes. Steven leans to whisper his acceptance in your ear. Marc rolls his eyes again. He's not in the mirror, he can hear it loud and clear, but he says nothing.

"Yeah, whatever..." he says instead.

You smile, and it's the most beautiful smile he's ever seen. Steven giggles when he turns to you, happy and excited, and you can't help but peck his lips and hug him until it hurts. Marc's just a witness there, a being, little more than a ghost witnessing two people in love. He's smiling, he feels happy and content now that Steven can finally experience true love, just like what he had with Layla and ruined, but the feeling is bittersweet.

"So..." he says once Steven is back. Behind Steven, you take the pill back in your hands, Marc frowns at the sight. "Is there anything I should know now that she's moving?" Marc asks, and before Steven can formulate the question, Marc gestures towards you. You swallow the pill and the orange juice, not even aware of the conversation still unfolding.

"It's just an iron supplement," Steven says, and your body gets rigid as if you had been caught red-handed.

You swallow another mouthful of orange juice and ask Steven for Marc's words. He repeats, one of his hands going up and down your back.

"I have iron deficiency," you respond. "Nothing serious, you know, the usual. If you ever see me blinking like crazy when I get up —and you will— I'm not having a seizure, I swear."

Steven purses his lips and nods profusely. "She does blink a lot, tho."

Sometimes Marc would like to punch his own face. "I know what happens when you get dizzy, Steven."

He simply shrugs. "Thought I'd warn you."

No amount of warning could have prepared him for that.

The first time is three weeks later, there's almost no boxes in the flat anymore, except for the one labeled "that drawer full of useless sh-". It actually said shit before, but someone got rid of it by crossing it out with a red marker. Marc would bet his right hand that it was Steven.

Another thing you have in common with Marc is that you both swear like sailors.

You're both working on your laptops; you're doing some homework your boss gifted you for the weekend. Usually, you would get stressed and rush to finish it on friday so you can spend the weekend with whoever is fronting —you'd prefer Steven, or so he thinks— but Marc said he'd probably be busy tracking some people down and spending time together is spending time together, so you don't mind working and talking to him at the same time, watching tv or anything else that doesn't require much concentration.

Once you've spent endless hours working on that couch next to Marc, you decide that your ass hurts enough to spend any more time sitting there. You get up suddenly, without thinking, because if you don't do it now you're not sure you'll do it later, and walk two steps before your vision gets clouded with dark spots.

Marc's focused on the maps, on where he's traveling next to arrest —or kill, if it gets ugly— the next big drug dealer, mobster or any other asshole who thinks they can get away with some heavy crime without facing him. He sees you getting up from the couch sensing how your fingers stop their motion in the back of his neck and then vanish into thin air. He wants to groan, but he is in no position for that. He also notices when you get stuck next to the couch as if you'd forgotten your next move.

You blink, twice, that Marc can see, but it's a lot more terrifying than what Steven had said. Marc wouldn't say you blink too much, quite the opposite, you almost don't blink at all. He sees your clouded eyes from where he is and his mind reminds him of a corpse with its eyes wide open. He feels as if someone had stabbed him in the heart with a fork and twisted it.

He calls your name, but doesn't wait for you to answer. He's taking your laptop, barely hanging from your hands, before his mind can process it. He almost throws it to the coffee table. One of his hands grabs you by the waist, he's standing so close that you can smell him, feel his quick breathing falling in your neck. He waits a literal second before he decides you've pushed yourself enough trying not to faint.

"Easy... Sit down, come on," he encourages you, gently pushing you to the couch again while not letting your body lean on anything that is not his own, your elbow in his grip while he holds you. He's almost dragging you to your previous seat.

"I'm fine," you mumble, slowly, and before you hit the couch your vision and strength are back.

He sees the change, your happy features are there, your eyes are focused again, the faintest tint of red on your face, too. But he still kneels on the floor and says:

"What do I get you? What do you need?"

He looks so worried that you can't help but chuckle. Your hands travel to his face, you cup both his cheeks and Marc feels that something again in his chest. Not the fork, though. You seem to be about to say something very important because the smile has vanished from your face, so he focuses all his attention on you like nothing else exists.

"I need you to get out of my way and let me go to the kitchen," a soft laugh emanating from your lungs. "I'm fine now. We told you this would happen."

He nods, mindlessly at first and profusely after a second, as if trying to convince himself.

"Yeah, yeah... You did," he says.

It still takes him a moment to stand on his feet and step back. His gaze follows you all the way to the kitchen space, though, and then he remembers he's standing in the middle of the living room and he sits down on the couch; but he feels an odd kind of apprehension now that you're out of sight, so he looks at you above his shoulder, once. And you catch him.

"Go back to your business, Spector!"

Grabbing his laptop again, he tries to focus on the maps; but he can't.

The second time is the most horrifying experience of his life, and he's seen some things. Marc's certain that the memory will haunt him to the duat, to the afterlife and he'd be thankful if he can forget it afterwards, whatever comes next. He's beyond thankful Steven wasn't there to witness it.

He's back from a long, exhausting night of being Moon Knight. He's stressed out. He's tired. He's seen people die tonight and has no desire of doing anything other than hit the sack and lose consciousness for a few days. Literally.

Maybe he should stop wishing so hard.

He crosses the front door, careful not to wake you up. It's not even dawn yet. He walks to the bathroom in total darkness, only the moonlight guiding him around his own apartment. He stops for a second to see you asleep over the comforter, the ipad still on, showing the page of an ebook. A small smile appears on his lips. Then he tiptoes to the bathroom.

His t-shirt is full of bullet holes, he can see it when he switches the light on. It's been a rough, long night. He's killed someone, someone who almost killed someone else, but a someone nonetheless. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he notices he has drops of blood on his face. It 's not his.

"Marc?"

"Coming!" he says, cursing under his breath because he doesn't want you to see him covered in other people's blood. He splashes water on his face and rubs. "Stay there! I need a second!" but you don't obey him, he knows you won't.

It takes him longer than a second, but not much longer. He rubs the last drop on his cheek and, when it's finally gone, he hears a heavy thud.

At first he thinks it was his imagination. He calls your name, and eventually sees his own confused face in the mirror when you don't answer. He calls you again, walking through the door frame.

His heart sinks in his chest when he sees you lying on the floor. His stomach takes a violent turn. Before he notices the floor under his feet he's already next to you. You have your eyes closed, your face pale. He has that terrible vision again, with the wide-eyed bodies, but now they are closed, and when his hands get in his field of vision, patting you gently on your cheeks while he calls your name, he sees his hands fiercely trembling.

One second his mind is completely blank, white, empty, he feels out of his own body and he doesn't know what to do. On the next, he tries to calm himself. He's not helping you by freaking out.

It's just a low iron, he thinks. It's just that. She will wake up soon, the hit to the floor is not hard enough, surely it cannot be.

It doesn't help. Not enough for him to feel like everything's spinning around both of you. And certainly not enough to prevent the tears from pricking his eyes. He does the only thing he can do, which is get you on the bed so you can rest, but he feels so weak and he's so afraid of hurting you, that his hand barely touches the back of your head in a desperate attempt at lifting you, and he feels his fingers wet.

He doesn't feel his heart beating anymore, there's only a hollow space where it used to be. He doesn't think he will ever get it back, even less when he sees the fresh blood on the pad of his five fingers.

"No, baby," he whispers the words, he chokes on them. "No, no, no. You can't do this to me."

As if by magic, your eyes start fluttering. Marc's just a witness kneeling there, unable to do anything as he sees you struggle. His mind wanders, half of it panicking in your home, half of it asking how the hell something like that could have happened. Then he looks ahead, trying to find someone or something to blame, and he finds the edge of the bedside table.

Who the hell needs a fucking bedside table? What's so important that you need it next to your head while sleeping? He had once opposed the idea of selling or renting the apartment, now all he wants is to burn it to the ground. The whole damn building if possible.

"Steven..."

He hears your voice calling his alter, whispering, and he swallows what seems to be a rock in his throat. You're calling your boyfriend, he understands that; but he doesn't have the heart to correct you.

"Don't worry, baby," he says, but the words barely make it out of his own vocal chords. "I got you. Just don't fall asleep, okay?"

You're not even half-conscious, Marc knows that because you said Steven's name with your eyes closed; but he cannot just stay silent while you suffer. He tries to reach his phone on the back of his jeans, but once he has it between his fingers and he's already calling A&E, he realizes that he cannot wait for an ambulance. And he has another way, a quicker one, of getting you to the nearest hospital.

It physically hurts him not to touch you, but he has to in order to summon the suit. Once he has it, he carries you in his arms, as gentle as he can. He sees his own tears falling and staining the fabric of your pajama when he lifts you. He had always hoped you never had to see the Moon Knight suit, but he's so pleased that you seem to get at least glimpses of it now that he could cry.

In fact he is crying; sobbing more like, but he doesn't like that word.

An hour later he's sitting next to you in a waiting room, a small and empty one, waiting for the results of an MRI. You have one of those hospital gowns, so he wonders if you're cold; he knows your butt probably is. Then he wonders if the room is not too bright and white for someone who smacked their head against a bedside table and the carpet; but he doesn't say anything because he knows he's probably just freaking out again. He knows he shouldn't be freaking out, you're in good hands. Actually, you're holding his.

He tries to take his mind somewhere else, somewhere nice, but he's seen too much blood in the last twenty-four hours and it's almost impossible. He tries to remember something from his childhood, but that's a no-no too. Shit, that's fucked up, Spector, he tells himself. But he's so used to that old wound that it doesn't hurt anymore.

He remembers the first day he fronted with you, the Disney movie playing was Nemo, obviously the first one, your favorite. Also Steven's. Then he remembers how the doctor asked if he was your boyfriend. He said no, you know, like a dumbass. And technically they shouldn't allow anyone who's not a first-degree relative or a partner in, but the doctor mumbled something about how complicated modern-day couples were and let him through.

Oh, he had no idea how complicated it was.

"Would you like Steven to front?"

He's the first to talk; suddenly aware that he's not the one you want by your side.

"No, he will freak out."

"Yeah... probably," Marc answers, asking himself how he didn't think about that before.

"You're a drama queen, you know that," you say, your arms crossed over your chest. Is not a question but a claim. You're still holding his hand, even though the angle of your arms crossed and Marc's hand is weird, but it works out and everything else doesn't matter.

Marc has always thought you look beautiful when you get angry, even if you're pretending, but it's twisted that he's thinking that right now, with a hospital gown and three stitches on the back of your head. You go on, because he doesn't say anything.

"You didn't have to bring me here all Moon Knight style."

"You were bleeding," he simply answers.

"They said it's not even serious."

"You could've died." Marc says, his voice emotionless. "...and if they're doing a scan they must have their reasons."

"See?" you say. "You're worse than Goog- auch..."

He turns to look at you so quickly that you wonder if he snapped his neck. You can't help it, a loud laugh fills the room as you touch the stitches. You shouldn't be gesticulating so much.

"Can you stay still for a second?" he asks, it sounds more like a beg, so he repeats it with the right intonation; and you think that Marc has already had enough between your attitude, kicking asses, the hospital, and going home to you passed out on the floor; so you don't say anything else.

"I'm sorry," he says after a second.

"It 's okay, you're right," you agree, your head is starting to throb as they didn't give you a high dose of painkillers, in case you fell asleep. "I'm not getting out of bed ever again."

Marc sighs, pleased that you're not playing with his nerves anymore. His hand squeezes yours, it's a gentle and short squeeze, but enough to calm him.

"I'm not letting you out of bed ever again."

The scans are perfect, it was all just a scare. Albeit one Marc will never forget in his life. Both of you get home and he has no idea why he's silently crying again. He can feel a tear falling down his face while he opens the door, so instead of waiting for you to cross first as he usually does, he walks in first and walks to the bathroom again. Not without taking a glimpse of where you fell, thanking his own egyptian god and all the others that there's no blood to clean. Not visible from where he stood, at least.

His chest is tight and he's soon crying his heart out on the bathroom floor. He tries not to sob, muffling the sound with the palm of his hand while covering his mouth; but you hear a faint hiccup coming from the bathroom. Now it's your time to call for him, and he doesn't answer, he can’t.

"Marc?" you ask, slowly opening the door. Then you see him crying on the floor, his knees to his chest and his hands now covering his whole face. "Oh, baby, no. Don't do that."

You get on the floor next to him a second later, ignoring the throb in the back of your head.

"I'm sorry," he says, even if it takes him a few tries. You hug him as tight as you can, until it hurts in your ribs. It's almost physically painful to witness the image of Marc Spector crying, you can barely hold back your own tears. After all, you've never seen him cry before. And there he is now, having a meltdown on the floor, holding on to you as if you were his anchor, the only thing keeping his feet on the ground, his head above water.

"Don't say sorry, babe. I did scare you, didn't I?" you say, and stroke his hair the way you know he likes it.

"I love you so much," he said, then he covers his face again, as if he was embarrassed he said that. He runs his hands through his short black hair, his eyes blood-shot, his fingers trembling. "I just love you so much, and I was scared I'd never be able to say it. I've spent such a long time, such a long time, waiting for it to pass because- Steven... he doesn't deserve that."

"That's why you're crying?"

Marc looks at you confused, his whole face red as blood itself, his lashes wet with tears. Your fun tone is usually music to his ears, but not now. Now he's just confused.

"No- I mean... It's... part of it, yeah..." he says, then he frowns. "What?"

"Marc we've known for a while," you say, taking his hands in yours.

"What?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" you draw circles with your thumbs in his palms. Then you chuckle. "Did you really think Steven wouldn't notice?"

"You both knew?"

You smile, because it's the only thing you can do, that, and shaking your head.

"Marc, Steven loves you, he would never not let you be happy," you say, now sitting next to him on the floor. You hit his knee with your own, gently, joking. "And how could I not love you, too? You're Marc, my Marc. I'd do anything for you. I love you both. Steven and I, we were just hoping you'd accept it soon enough; but it took you a while."

You watch him attentively, he's not crying anymore, but he has that look in his face like he can't believe what he's hearing. He feels that sensation in his chest, again. He tries to follow it, to touch it with his own hands, and he finds out he has his palm over his heart. It 's love. He never thought he'd ever feel alive again, let alone feeling love, but there it is, beating under his muscles and tissues and whatever else.

You pull from one of his curls, jokingly. Not to hurt him, not to take his attention, but because you know he likes it when you play with his hair. The curl rolls around your pinky. You literally have him wrapped around your finger; you've had him for a while.

"He's okay with it?" Marc asks. "You're okay with it?"

"We're more than okay with it, babe," you say, then you smile with pursed lips. "Sorry, it seems like you're stuck with us, now."

He could weep with joy.

And so he does.

#marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #requested #moon knight request #I had so much fun with this #it's insane #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant x reader #moon knight #marc spector

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clarissalance · 3 years

Text

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you?

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.)

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!!

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat.

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows.

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation.

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent. With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.”

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks?

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away.

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said: ‘Farewell, my comrades’.

For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword.

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

“ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone?

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground!

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.”

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department.

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you.

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them.

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years.

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out.

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed.

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?"

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button.

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful.

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?”

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him.

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank.

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes.

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture.

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike.

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you.

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground.

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes.

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks.

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating.

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry.

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch.

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up.

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby.

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ” His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent?

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo.

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort. Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what?

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you.

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you?

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action.

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about.

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day? You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now!

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm.

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more.

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist.

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering.

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure.

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route.

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack.

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can.

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder?

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back.

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively.

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go?

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.”

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic.

#kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #no beta we kayak like tim #genshin impact #clarissalance #who has the upper hand ?#argument #fluff #tension #smart reader #strategist #genshin varka #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc

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maxburnett · 3 years

Text

Epilogue to Summer Heat, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers

-(fem!reader x Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers)

Summary: A glimpse of the months following Steve leaving Reader for Peggy. This is a part 2/sequel/epilogue of this fic for @syntheticavenger's 5K Follower Challenge

Warnings: This is mild! Mostly Fluff with slight Angst. There's a hint at Bucky eating out his very pregnant girlfriend if you squint. Bucky is soft. Steve is an idiot. Bucky really loves reader. (I stuck at these I apologize. Contains very minor Loki spoilers. I wrote this in like a hour on my phone so I apologize for any typos etc)

Please reblog/share and comment. I love to read your reviews!

Word Count: 2,060

It had been nearly 5 months since you had found out that you were pregnant. You and Bucky were letting everything fall into place as you were getting ready for the birth of your baby. He had talked you into finding out the sex when it was born, despite you wanting to hurry up and find out. You closed your eyes as you sat on the couch, your legs propped onto a pillow as you rubbed your stomach as your baby kicked.

"He's good," he says with a smile. "God, you're so beautiful," he says, and you chuckle.

"I'm a whale, Buck," you say and throw a blueberry at him, which he catches with his mouth. "There's nothing beautiful about me," you snort, and he glares at you.

"Baby, how many times do I have to tell you that you're beautiful?" He asks, and you sigh. You just feel so fat and unattractive, but Bucky still stares at you the same way he did before he made the first move and kissed you all those months ago.

"I don't deserve you, Buck," you smile and move, so you are sitting beside him. "I honestly don't deserve everything you've done for the baby and me-" he cuts you off as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you gently into him, kissing your lips with a softness that made you get goosebumps every time.

"Our baby," he says into your lips.

"Our baby," you whisper back and smile as he stands up and takes your empty bowl to the sink, and comes back to lean down to kiss your chin where you had some chocolate. His lips move up to his, and you run your hands into his hair pulling him closer as he gently devours your lips with his own.

"Need to taste you," he says in a rough tone before pulling away. His hands reach down, taking both of yours. He helps you off of the couch and walks you back to the bedroom.

~ 2 Months Later~

You woke up one morning hearing the birds chirping outside of your window and smiled as Bucky came in, bringing you some toast with avocados and eggs on it. You eat the toast as he leans and kisses your stomach, softly singing his favorite song with his head gently lying on your huge tummy.

You giggle as you listen to him singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" as you close your eyes and remember your first kiss during "The Wizard of Oz" all of those months ago. You play with his hair, looking down at him, wondering how you got so lucky to have a guy like Bucky. Your eyes close for a moment. You can't help but think of Steve. You hate that he left you, you hate that he chose to be with another woman; but why couldn't you hate him?

If he had known you were pregnant, you know he would've stayed. Wouldn't he?

"Hey doll, you okay?" You heard Bucky ask, and you looked down at him. You smile as you nod your head down at him. You take a deep breath.

"I was just thinking about Steve ... not necessarily the bad stuff. I just ..." you couldn't find the words. "He just would have been a good father," you say softly.

"You're right," he smiles and looks up at you. "He was a good man," he whispers and closes his eyes. "I just ... wish he would've handled all of this differently. He should've talked to you," he said, his fingers gently moving over your tummy. You smile. His singing was always something that could calm the baby's kicking down.

When he moves to lay down beside you, pulling you as close as he could as he rested his head on your shoulder and his hand on your stomach. He closed his eyes for a moment and bit at his lip.

"At the funeral, he asked me if I liked you," Bucky whispered. He'd never talked to you about this before. "He said he saw something about the way we looked at each other. He wanted to know if I had feelings for you,"

You bit your lip as you listened to Bucky, and you placed your hand over his.

"I didn't lie to him. I told him the truth. I'm sorry if me telling him that caused him to leave," he said, and you place your finger over his lips.

"Bucky, even if I do miss him sometimes ... even if I do still love him. There's nothing like the love I have for you," you whisper and run your fingers through his hair. "This baby was made with Steve ... and even tho we told each other 'I Love You,' It is fate that you and I go through this with our baby."

Bucky looked up at you, his blue eyes beginning to tear up, and you smile as you run your fingers gently into his hair before you wiped at his face with your fingers.

"I love you so much," you say down to him.

"I love you," he says back as he kisses your stomach and looks up at you with his head resting against your tummy again.

"Let's get married," he says, and you look down at him about to say something. He smiles up at you. "I know it's not an ideal proposal," he chuckles. "But I don't want to wait, and I don't even have a ring ... but I can get one. I just want to marry you, and I want to grow old with you and our baby,"

"Let's get married," you say back with a smile. "We can just do it in the courthouse... I don't need anything but you, Buck. Maybe we can get Sam to come," you say, and he smiles as he pulls away and moves his dog tags from his neck to yours.

"Let's get married," he says again and kisses your lips.

Steve had promised Peggy that he would stop by the grocery store he walked out of the store with his paper bags and looked around as things began to freeze in time. He looked around strangely as everything began to move in slow motion. Holographic doors began to show around him, and three guards came out with guns and walked towards him.

One of them stepped towards him and looked down at something in their hand.

"Steve Rogers, on behalf of the Time Variance Authority. I hereby arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline."

Before he had a chance to speak, he was zapped away with the strange people and was put on trial. He honestly thought this was some kind of joke. How had he messed with the timeline?

"You must be Captain America," a voice said from behind him. He was holding a file and stood to walk towards him. "I'm Mobius," he said.

"Why am I here?"

"You messed up the Timeline by going back in time to be with Peggy Carter," Mobius replied. "We figured we would give you the chance to fix things. Follow me," he said, and Steve sighed, following after the man.

He stopped at an area, and Steve turned towards a vast place with darkness, but soon the darkness lit up. He saw you and Bucky in front of him.

He saw how the two of you had fallen in love, and something inside him twitched as he saw how you looked at Bucky. It was a way she never looked at him before. Then he watched the night she had called him asking him to pick something up for her, and he gasped.

"I wouldn't have left if I had known," Steve finally spoke.

Mobius looked over at the blonde and shook his head. Then looked back at the screen.

"You need to make a decision. But know one thing, them falling in love was always supposed to happen. It would have happened if you would've stayed," he said, causing Steve to look at the screen. "We normally don't do this, but we will give you time to figure out what you want. You can stay here ... you can let them live their lives. Or you can finally man up and admit that going back into time to be with a woman you only kissed once was a stupid thing to do,"

Bucky smiled as he kissed your head as your 6-week old baby girl, Isabella Rose rested on your chest. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, and you didn't look any better.

"I still can't believe she's here," he smiled, looking down at the sleeping baby. "Here, let me take her. I want you to get some sleep," he said as he softly took her and stood up from the bed and walked her to her nursery, and laid her down.

"Hey sweet pea," Bucky says as he winds up the mobile and Isabella glances up at him and he swore she smiled before looking at the mobile. "All of this is new to me. But I promise I'm going to take care of you and mommy. It's going to be the three of us to the end of the line," he whispered and looked up at the mobile where he and you had hung Steve's dog tags that he had left behind. "Your daddy would love you so much. I miss him and I know mommy misses him too. You have his eyes and his hair. But hopefully, you aren't as hardheaded," he smiles and runs his fingers through her blond hair. "Go to sleep sweet pea,"

He came back into the bedroom and smirked, seeing you were already asleep, and he laid beside you and wrapped an arm around you.

He woke up a few hours later; Isabella was crying. He headed into the room and picked her up, comforting her with a smile.

"Daddy's here," he said as she wrapped her hand around his ring finger, and he smiled seeing her little fingers close to his wedding band. "Daddy's always gonna be here," he said, rocking her softly. He heard a knock on the door and carried Isabella carefully towards the door and opened it slowly.

Steve stood behind the door. He had a hand on the back of his neck as he looked out at his best friend holding his daughter just as you walked into the room.

"Buck, who's at the door?" You ask before you freeze as Bucky moves to the side, and Steve is standing there looking from you to Bucky and down at the little blonde-haired girl in Bucky's arms.

"Bucky, turn around," you say, and he backs away from you and turns his back, and holds Isabella close.

"How dare you!" You say as you slap Steve once and then again. "You left!" You say, and he reaches his hands out to grab ahold of yours. It's when he sees the rings on your finger.

"Y/N. I'm sorry. If I would've known, I wouldn't have left," he says, and you feel the tears building in your eyes.

"But you left Steve ... you left. You said you loved me, and you left," you shook your head. "I loved you, and you left," you said as you began to hit his chest before collapsing into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he said as he held you close against his chest. "I came back ... I came back," he said against your head. "I know you and Bucky are together ... but I have to be here for her," he said, and you look up at him and feel his fingers wiping your eyes.

"Can I hold her?" Steve asks, his voice slightly cracking.

"Yes," you whisper and have him sit down on the couch as you motion for Bucky to take Isabella over to Steve. He hands Isabella over carefully, and she looks up at the strange man and wiggles a little in his arms as tears roll from Steve's blue eyes down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry I left you, little Angel, but daddy's never leaving you again," Steve said as he leaned and kissed her head and took in the smell of his daughter for the very first time.

Tagging:

@syntheticavenger @bitchassbucky @belladonnabarnes @stcrrynightsinneverlcnd @onceuponabarnes @fairyevans @balenciagabucky @honeysucklesteve @faeryloki @fuckandfluff @bibbidibobbidibucky @buckyblues @bloomingbucky @buckyssimp @mickey-henry @fluffycutecevans @midnightf @fallinforevans @buckys-blue-eyes @lokiscollar

#synths5kfollower challenge #bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes x fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x smut #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x smut #steve rogers x you #chris evans x you #sebastian stan x you #nic.doc

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elsecrytt · 2 years

Note

you?? wrote??? a NEARLY 11k WORD fic?!?! I am saving it for later but also HOW do you not forget what you wrote??? I can do maybe 2k and even then I scroll back up like 'huh i wrote this? can't remember'

hehehe i have a longfic up that's 32k words published so far, and maybe 20k more words in the draft? one of my friends who's wayyy better at updating consistently than me, is going on 160k+

if you're genuinely curious about the process, i have headings!! for example, for "The Son he Calls Brother" each major scene i had kinda summarized in a heading:

"Have you considered adoption" is the scene where Lucifer gets his son brother.

"War Veteran attempts to teach a small child" is Lucifer lashing out at Satan and then having his PTSD episodes.

And then "How (not) to discipline your demon (son)" is the ending bit, where things just completely fall apart between the two of them.

In a general sense, I logistically don't forget what I write because I'm a VERY one-foot-in-front-of-the-other sort of writer. I just write the next sentence, then the sentence after that.

Generally I do know what I want the scene to be (less so for smut), and so I just kinda pick a good starting point and get going from there.

So hmm from your perspective, you could say that I mostly write like, 2-5k word scenes that link into one another.

I've written much longer than that just when I like... meander a bunch? I'm the type who can ramble, like, a LOT. So it's often not difficult for me to come up with more to say.

I don't need to remember! I will simply keep writing more!! sdjkfghldghf but yeah I do generally remember what I've written.

I'm also an extremely fast reader, and I'm hmmm... very invested in a lot of my ideas, so I think about a lot of them quite a lot.

but also sdkfhglkshdfg then i look back on anything i've written (including this reply!) and go "wait this is rambling, unclear, doesn't convey what i need it to" and the struggle is real but i'm out here workin at it XD

#elsey rambles #AT LENGTH #totally-original-artist #answered asks

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gallavictorious · 3 years

Text

Gallavich Week Day 2: Fantasy AU

Summary: Prince Ian is offered up as a sacrifice to appease one of the dragons that haunt his father’s kingdom. Rather than being burned alive or eaten he is inexplicably left to wander the dragon’s lair in peace, as long as he never tries to leave and never enters the mysterious tower chamber. Then he meets fellow prisoner Mikhailo and starts to wonder if maybe this whole sacrificial gig isn’t such a bad deal after all.

Or, Ian Gallagher tells a bedtime story, and Mickey Milkovich is himself.

Fair Warning 1: There’s some Mickey-typical homophobic language in this one.

Fair Warning 2: I wrote all ridiculous 5K of this today (work? what work?) and it’s a little bit of a curious mess. Like, the sort of curious mess you get if you take Lip’s Hall of Shame, @gardenerian’s lovely bedtime stories, the novel “Dealing with Dragons” by Patricia Wrede, the Swedish picture book “Bröllop i Marsipanien” by Lena Karlin, the Greek myth of Andromeda, a bunch of folk tales about shapeshifting lovers, and the questionable old practice of MSTing fics, and then you stuff them all into a Kee and shake her around for a bit and then you pour it out into the shape of a 12 hour long and highly inadvisable speedwriting session.

Read it at your own risk, below or on AO3.

Very Important Note: I make fun of fic writing in this fic. Please note that I’m only making fun of myself and general tropes; any and all allusions to actual fic in the fandom is entirely coincidental.

---

Lest They Say, Here Be Dragons

Hush now, child; settle down. Close your eyes – yes, just like that – and listen:

Once upon a time and elsewhere, there was a kingdom. The people there were no happier than people anywhere else, and poorer than most, but they made do and lived and danced and grieved and died as people have always done.

Jesus, that’s gay.

That is, until the dragons came.

Okay, now you’re talking.

Like a plague they swept the land, winged beasts with fire for breath and ice in their hearts. Every night the fields burned, and the villages burned, and the cattle burned and was eaten. Many a brave people took up arms and went to confront the monsters, and then they burned too.

Heart-broken and terrified, the people went to the king to plead for aid. “Send an emissary to the dragons,” they said. “Reason with them and strike a bargain, or else we are sure to perish.”

What a bunch of pussies. What they should do is, they should use a bunch a cow shit to build a bomb and nuke the hell out of those dragons. Problem fucking solved.

Now, this king was a scoundrel and a drunk and the queen had an unfortunate habit of turning herself into a bird and flying off to more interesting lands whenever the mood took her. They had six children but rarely paid them any mind and fair Princess Fiona, eldest of the six, was left to raise her younger siblings as best she could. False King Francis would have been perfectly content to turn his desperate subjects away if it weren’t for the fact the dragons unchecked rampage threatened the production of the spirits the king so enjoyed. So, donning a mask of compassionate concern, for he was a skilled liar, he promised the people that he would help them. But as soon as they had left, comforted, he turned the task over to his children.

The second oldest child, foxy Prince Philip—

Foxy Prince Philip?

Yeah, you know. Foxy. Like clever.

Why not just say clever then?

‘Cause it’s not alliterative.

Alliter—

Starts with the same sound. Foxy – Philip. Fair – Fiona.

Oh, I get it. Like, Ian – idiot. Ow!

Foxy Prince Philip was known far and wide for being the cleverest in all the land, and by using all his cunning he managed to strike a deal with the leader of the dragons.

“By using all his cunning.” Skimming over the details a bit there, huh?

You really want me to turn this into a Prince Philip story? Hear me go on and on about what a genius he is?

…

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

It was agreed that the dragons would spread out over the kingdom, each one building their own place to live near a village, and that the villagers would bring them food and drink. In turn, the dragons would refrain from casual pyromancy and protect the villagers from harm.

Protection racket, huh. Classic. Starting to like these dragons, man.

In addition, the cruel leader of the dragons demanded that each dragon be offered a child of the land in sacrifice. No matter how Prince Philip bargained he could not change the dragon’s cold heart on this—

Guess he wasn’t so clever after all.

—and so, with heavy hearts and much lamenting, each village drew lots to determine which poor child would be sent as an offering to their new resident dragon. However, in the village nearest to the castle the people grew angry when the beloved blacksmith’s only child, a small girl of just four, was selected, and they went to the king and they said:

“It isn’t fair that some people are asked to give up their only child to appease the dragons while you, who have six children, are exempt from the lottery.”

King Francis, fearing an uprising as much as he feared the dragons (since each was as likely as the other to leave him without a drink), quickly nodded.

“That’s true,” he said. “And fairness must ever be the true monarchs first and most important concern. Though it breaks my heart, I can’t in good conscience watch my people sacrifice their own children without offering up my own. You may take Prince Ian and give him to the dragon.”

At this, the other princes and princesses raised their voices in furious protest, for they loved their brother even if their father did not. But industrious Prince Ian—

Industrious? That really the best you can come up with?

—stepped forward and declared that he’d be happy to give up his life, so that the child of the blacksmith might be spared. And so, as the sunt set, he was taken away to the lair of the dragon that had made its home near the castle.

So let me get this straight… The king is happy to toss Prince Ian to the wolves ‘cause he hates him, and his siblings are all sad and shit but they still let him go off to get fucking eaten by dragons?

Yes.

Uh-huh.

What?

…

Oh, fuck you. It’s just a story.

Totally.

Stepping into the lair, with heart a-hammering but on stubbornly steady legs, Prince Ian set eyes upon the beast that was to be his destiny. He was momentarily relieved to see it was not the terrible leader of the dragons, as he had feared, but a smaller monster he did not recognize. Black was its hide, its eyes a cold sparkling blue—

Gallagher, I swear to god, if you turn me into some lame ass henchman dragon—

Keep interrupting, asshole, and it’ll be a pink fucking unicorn. And hang on, you’ll show up in a little bit.

Setting his jaw, Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death—

‘Course he did, the stupid motherfucker. Hey, if Prince Philip was so fucking smart, and if he gave a shit about his brother, shouldn’t he have given him, I dunno, a knife or something?

Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death, because unlike some other people he was not a selfish prick and he actually cared about the people of the kingdom, but much to his surprise the dragon did not burn him. Instead, it just stared at him for a good long while, until suddenly it declared:

“You must never leave the lair, and you must never set foot inside the tower chamber. Abide by these rules and you may live. Break these rules and I’ll rip your heart out and eat it while you watch, and then I’ll burn the castle down with your beloved siblings inside.”

You tell him, dragon.

With that the dragon took flight and disappeared, leaving Prince Ian to stand alone in the great hall of the lair, confused but alive. The young prince remained where he was for a few minutes, thinking that the dragon might come back, but when it did not he set out to explore his new home. It was big, with endless rooms and nooks and crannies, but it was badly kept, with strange bits and pieces cluttering up the hallways and chambers. Prince Ian found some old blankets and he used those to set up a pallet in one of the nicer rooms, one that had a view over a small, overgrown garden. And then, because it was very late and he was not dead, he went to sleep.

The next day he continued his explorations and managed to find the kitchen. It was full with the meat that the villagers brought the dragon once a month, and remembering that the beast had only forbidden him from leaving the lair and going into the tower chamber, Prince Ian helped himself to a piece of pork that he cooked over a small fire.

Hang on, was there a fridge in the kitchen?

No. This was the olden days.

But the villagers came once a month with the meat? How did the dragon keep from rotting?

That’s not really—

Was it dried? Like a Slim Jim?

… sure. It was dried.

As he was eating, Prince Ian heard a sudden scraping noise behind him.

The hell did he cook it over a fire for then, if it was dried?

He looked up and spied another young man standing in the doorway.

I’m just saying, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, man. Wait, is this me?

Prince Ian frowned. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you a prisoner of the dragon too?”

The boy shrugged. “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I do some work around here. Clean up and shit, in exchange for not getting eaten. Name’s Mikhailo.”

About fucking time. Only, how is it fair that you get to be prince and I’m a fucking cleaner?

Prince Ian tactfully did not mention how the lair was impressively dirty for a place with a fulltime cleaner but invited Mikhailo to share his meal. As they ate, Prince Ian studied his new acquaintance. He was the same age as but shorter than the prince, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.

Hair as black as— The hell was that?

Nothing.

Yeah, okay, then why are you smiling? Eh, fuck you. Prince Ian’s fucking thirsty for Mikhailo, I get it.

Though his manner was somewhat brusque and uncouth, Prince Ian could not help but feel himself drawn to Mikhailo. The boy was funny and easy to talk to, even if he seemed reluctant to say too much about himself or where he came from. Prince Ian tried asking him about the dragon, but despite apparently having lived there ever since the dragon moved in, Mikhailo couldn’t tell him much.

“Hardly ever even see it, man. At dusk and dawn mostly, so I guess it spends the night flying around with the other dragons, terrorizing the peasants or whatever. During the day it holes up in the tower chamber. Guess dragons must sleep too, huh? Don’t fucking go up there,” he added sternly. “It ain’t fucking kidding about killing you if you do.”

Having found a friend, Prince Ian found that life at the dragon’s lair wasn’t all that bad. He missed his siblings and being outdoors and practicing with the soldiers at the castle, and he resented the loss of his freedom, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet, and enjoyed spending time with Mikhailo. However, one thing he soon grew very tired of was eating nothing but meat. The dragon didn’t seem to require anything else, for it was the only thing the villagers ever delivered, and Mikhailo – whose tasks included receiving the monthly tribute – just gave Prince Ian a weird look when Ian suggested he ask the people to bring some vegetables next month.

“That ain’t the deal they’ve got with the dragon,” he told Ian. “Ain’t nobody gonna listen to me if I go trying to change it.”

Yeah, real Prince Charming there, wanting Mikhailo to risk his life so Ian can stuff his face with fucking cucumber.

Undeterred by Mikhailo’s lack of enthusiasm and courage—

Fuck you.

—Prince Ian decided to take it up with the dragon himself. In the weeks since he arrived at the lair, he hadn’t met the creature again, not even once; he’d just heard the powerful swoosh of its wings when it came and went at dusk and dawn. Now he went up the stairs to the tower chamber and there he waited until night had fallen and he noted the scraping of claws against stone inside the room. Then he knocked at the door.

There was a long silence. Then the door slammed open with enough force to nearly undo it from its hinges.

“What are you doing here?!” the dragon roared, terrible in its fury. “I’ve told you to never come here!”

“You’ve told me to never set foot inside the room,” Ian reasoned, fighting to keep his voice calm. “And I’m not. I just wanted to ask if I may have the use of the small garden just outside the lair. I miss being outdoors and I could grow vegetables for Mikhailo and me.”

Jesus Christ, man, again with gardening? Thought you were over it.

“You may never leave the lair,” the dragon, a garden-hating meanie, snarled, and then he closed the door in Prince Ian’s face.

As he fucking should.

“Probably worried one of the villagers will spot you and, I dunno, mount a rescue,” Mikhailo said shortly the next morning when Prince Ian told him of his failed attempt. “Anyway, you’re a fucking idiot for going up there like that. You get it won’t hesitate to kill you, right?”

“Right,” Ian agreed. “But,” he added with a frown, “why hasn’t it yet?”

“You fucking complaining?” Mikhailo snapped, and then he stalked away, and Ian didn’t see him again for three days.

Listen, you get that I get that Mikhailo is the dragon, right? You’re not fooling anyone, Gallagher.

Then, one day, fed up with the dragon being a really annoying prick, Prince Ian grabbed a huge sword he conveniently found lying around in a cupboard, because the lair was a fucking pigsty, suitable for a pig like the dragon, and he went up the stairs and kicked in the door and he cut the dragon’s throat while it slept, and then he went off and found himself a nice prince to marry.

…

That’s not how the story ends.

…

Hey, where are you going? Come back- Jesus, I’m sorry, okay? Gallagher, I’m sorry. Just come back here. Tell me what really happened.

Prince Ian woke with a start on his pallet in the lair. He’d had the most vivid dream about killing the dragon—

A dream? That’s the lamest fucking— Ah, fuck. Sorry.

—but for some reason it hadn’t felt as satisfying as he had thought it would. For all that Prince Ian often fantasized about strangling the beast, it seemed he didn’t actually wish to see it dead. With that disconcerting realization in mind, Prince Ian went to break his fast, resigned to doing so on meat and yet more meat. But in the kitchen he found Mikhailo, and on the table in front of him was a pile of cabbage and carrots and onions.

“Guess the dragon must have talked to the villagers after all,” Mikhailo muttered, refusing to look at the prince. “And, uh, there was this thing I wanted to show you.”

Without waiting for a response, he spun around on his heel and walked out the door. Curious, Prince Ian followed, through doors and up and down stairs he never knew existed. Eventually, he found himself standing in what appeared to be an inner courtyard. It was small and the walls surrounding it very high, but up above the sky was blue. Prince Ian turned his face towards it and for the first time since he came to live at the dragon’s lair he felt sunlight on his face.

“It’s a shithole,” Mikhailo said. For some reason he sounded a little nervous. “But if you wanna go outside, you can come here. And there’s dirt in those bins, so I guess you could grow stuff in them? Just gotta wear this hat. Anyone sees you, they’ll just think it’s me.”

Privately, Prince Ian wondered who’d ever be able to see him behind walls that high, but he wasn’t going to argue. Wearing an ugly had was a small price to pay for being able to go outside, and to have a garden.

He gave Mikhailo a small smile; Mikhailo smiled back.

“Mikhailo smiled back.” Yeah, you bet he was laughing his ass off, ‘cause he thought Prince Ian was a huge fucking dork.

Things were good for a long while after that. Prince Ian spent his days in the garden and in Mikhailo’s company, and though he still resented being locked away from the world it was easy to ignore that when he had something to do and when his plants started to grow and when he was with Mikhailo. The two young men became closer and closer with each passing week, and soon it seemed to Prince Ian as if they had always known each other. He could no longer imagine a life without his friend.

He suspected that Mikhailo felt the same. It was there in the way he laughed at Prince Ian’s jokes; the way he sought him out to do nothing but talk; the way his gaze sometimes lingered on the prince, the look in his eyes unreadable.

Prince Ian suspected that Mikhailo too wondered what it would be like to press their lips together and hold each other tight. Sleep together; map every inch of each other’s bodies.

Hang on a minute, you’re telling me they haven’t fucked yet? The hell they’ve been doing?

I told you. Hanging out. Talking. Laughing.

Jesus Christ, that’s so fucking gay.

Two men not fucking each other is gay? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. One day we really need to talk about all your internalized homophobia.

My interna-what? Ah, shut the fuck up. Continue with the story. All these interruptions ain’t doing much for the flow, you know.

Really? I hadn’t noticed.

Prince Ian became determined to find out if Mikhailo felt the same way as he did. He realized that he needed to be careful, however, and not push too hard, lest he spook the other boy. Even though he was almost sure he could see longing in Mikhailo’s eyes, there seemed to be some invisible hand holding him back. Every time Prince Ian was convinced they were finally getting somewhere, Mikhailo would suddenly pull back, as if stung.

Or as if remembering something. Himself, maybe.

Bu then came a cold, clear autumn day almost exactly one year after Prince Ian had been taken to the dragon’s lair.

Whoa, wait, now you’re telling me they’ve been hanging out for one fucking year and they still haven’t banged?

What can I say? Mikhailo’s a pussy.

Whatever. This story is unrealistic as fuck.

Prince Ian and Mikhailo had spent the afternoon together in the garden, as they almost always did whenever Mikhailo wasn’t busy with any of his mysterious chores (which he still refused to tell Prince Ian much about, but which sometimes took him away from the lair for days at a time). Once it started getting dark they went inside and dined on chicken and potatoes from Prince Ian’s patch, and as so often happened they started bickering and play fighting.

If that’s something that happens a lot you might have mentioned it earlier. Established it or whatever. Those mysterious chores too. What’s that all about?

Oh, my bad. Maybe I should start over? Once upon and time—

Nah, man, you’re good. Just a suggestion for next time.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

They were chasing each other around the kitchen when Mikhailo tripped over the muddy shoes he’d lazily left there the night before and fell to the floor.

You know these meaningful little comments ain’t actually clever, right? They don’t actually add anything to the story.

I like them.

Prince Ian, ever chivalrous, grabbed hold of his friend’s arm to break his fall, but ended up going down with him instead, pinning Mikhailo to the floor with his big, strong body.

Fucking finally.

Their eyes met and Prince Ian felt his heart starting to beat faster. He could see a faint blush spreading over Mikhailo’s face. Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved. Then, slowly, slowly, Prince Ian leaned in to brush his lips over Mikhailo’s. Mikhailo lifted his head to meet him in a kiss to end all other kisses, a kiss to inspire a thousand love songs.

Uh-huh, and then…

And then they went to Prince Ian’s room and had sex all night long. But when Prince Ian woke the next morning—

Wait, wait, what? That’s it? “They had sex all night long.” How about some fucking detail, man?

Fine.

After having great sex using lots of good lube all night long, Prince Ian woke up alone in his bed.

I hate you.

He went in search of Mikhailo but couldn’t find his friend anywhere. He looked in the garden and in the kitchen and he went to the sad little cellar chamber Mikhailo called his room even though Prince Ian had never actually seen him sleep there.

Because he’s the dragon and sleeps in the tower chamber. Great hint, Gallagher. Real subtle.

Fuck off.

A week passed and Prince Ian was starting to suspect that Mikhailo was gone for good this time. Perhaps the dragon had found out about their tryst and had sent him away? Or maybe Mikhailo was disgusted with what had happened and wanted nothing more to do with the prince? Prince Ian wondered and worried and feared, and when finally Mikhailo returned, stepping into the kitchen like nothing had happened, Prince Ian was so exhausted with terror and regret that his relief immediately transformed into fury.

He yelled at Mikhailo, called him names and demanded to know where he’d been. He named him a coward and—

…

Hey, what’s the matter? You okay?

Yeah. Yeah, man, I’m fine.

You don’t look— Listen, Prince Ian’s just being an asshole, okay? He saying a bunch of stupid shit ‘cause he’s sick and tired of not knowing if he means as much to Mikhailo as Mickhailo means to him. He doesn’t mean it.

…

Mick?

I mean… He probably means it a little. He’s not wrong.

No, he’s— Fine. He means it a little right then. But he is wrong, okay? He doesn’t really understand what’s going on with Mikhailo, but he’ll get it later. He’ll know he wasn’t being really fair.

… yeah?

Yeah. Okay?

Okay.

Great. Maybe we should speed this bit up a little—

Once Prince Ian had finished shouting, Mikhailo just stared at him for a long moment.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he spat, and then he spun around and disappeared through the door.

Prince Ian was immediately overcome with regret, yet he was still too angry and hurt and stubborn to run after the other. He went about his day in a very foul mood and when he went to bed that night Mikhailo was still gone. Prince Ian slept fitfully and in the middle of the night he woke to a loud crash, soon followed by several more. He realized it must have come form the tower chamber and after a moment of hesitation he grabbed his nightgown and rushed up the stairs.

So, he brought a nightgown with him when he thought the dragon was going to kill him?

Of course not. He found it in one of the rooms.

Yeah, okay, but why are there so many rooms in this fucking lair anyway? What’s with all the old stuff there? Didn’t the dragon build the place to live in like right before Prince Ian was sent there?

Mickey. It’s getting late and I’d really love to wrap this up and go to bed. It doesn’t really matter about the rooms. Can I just continue with the story?

Whatever, man. Just thought you should know there’s a bunch of plot holes in your little fairy tale.

Once he reached the door to the forbidden room, the crashing noises had stopped. Instead, Prince Ian heard whimpers and moaning, as if from someone in great pain. It could only be the dragon – something must be wrong with it.

Yeah, ya think, Sherlock?

Prince Ian knocked on the door. There was no reply, other than more whimpers and moans. Steeling himself, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked.

That’s awfully convenient.

Stepping inside, Prince Ian found the dragon on the floor. It was clearly hurt, for there was dark blood pooling underneath it. As Prince Ian entered, the great beast lifted its head but said nothing and made no move to attack him. It seemed it was too badly hurt to pose any threat.

It occurred to Prince Ian that he could kill the dragon. He could go down to the kitchen and fetch the biggest knife there and then he’d be free and he could go back to the castle and his siblings and—

The dragon made a low, pained sound and let its head fall back to the floor, closing its eyes.

Prince Ian went down the stairs, but he didn’t fetch a knife, he fetched bandages instead. Though part of him cursed himself for a fool, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill the dragon, monster or not, and couldn’t bring himself to let it bleed to death either.

That’s a huge fucking mistake. Maybe the dragon never hurt him but it still kept him imprisoned. Prince Ian should be getting the hell out of there when he has the chance.

Hmm, yeah. Choosing to be locked up just to be the person you love does sound like a pretty insane thing to do.

Oh, fuck off. That’s totally different.

Sure, Mick.

By the time Prince Ian returned to the tower the dragon had lost consciousness. The prince set to cleaning and bandaging his wounds, having learned the art of it while training with a medical witch who lived at the castle. It took a great long while; the dragon was large and heavy and the cuts in its side long, if shallow. But Prince Ian was nothing if not determined and eventually he had the beast wrapped up.

As Ian moved to rise, the dragon stirred.

“The hell are you doing?” it muttered, blinking up at Ian. Then it spotted the bandages, and the ice blue eyes widened. “What the— Are you fucking insane? This is a... is a… real bad fucking idea… ”

It sounded… strange, and not just from the pain and blood loss, Prince Ian thought. Sounded not just slurred but softer somehow, in spite of the uncharacteristic cursing; sounded almost familiar; sounded like—

“Mikhailo,” Prince Ian whispered.

Ooooh, big surprise! I’m so shocked right now!

You know there are other uses for plot twists than to shock the reader, right? Or actually, I guess you don’t know, but if you picked up a book once in a while—

Yeah, yeah, whatever. What happened after this great and totally unexpected reveal?

The dragon lost consciousness again so Prince Ian went to bed and slept soundly and when he woke the next day he spotted Mikhailo leaning against the wall of his room, looking tired ad unhappy. He was even paler than usually and there was a stiffness to his posture that suggested quite a bit of pain, but other than that he seemed well enough.

“So,” Prince Ian said, trying for casualness as he sat up on his pallet. “You’re a dragon.”

Mikhailo shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“But only by night.”

“Yeah… We turn when the sun sets, and turn back again when it rises.”

“I didn’t know that about dragons.”

“No one around here fucking does. People realize how helpless we are during the day, they’d kill us in a heartbeat. My dad says— “

“Your dad?”

“The leader of the dragons. The really big, white one? This whole terror and extortion thing was his idea, once he realized that no one in this kingdom has a clue about dragons.”

“Oh.”

“He hates humans. Thinks they’re useless and weak. If he knew I kept you around instead of killing you, he’d have murdered us both.”

Jesus fucking Christ, laying it on a bit thick with the metaphysical shit there, don’t ya think?

You mean metaphorical?

I mean it’s fucking stupid, that’s what I mean.

Might be closer to allegory anyway.

Uh-huh. Nobody fucking cares, Shakespeare.

“So, anyway,” Mikhailo continued, “you should probably try to go as far away from here as possible. Find a ship and go across the sea or something.”

Prince Ian blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, man, you won’t be able to go back to your castle. No way to stay hidden there. I know this guy up in Dikno, he might—”

He fell silent as Prince Ian jumped up from the bed and crossed the space between them in two long strides, and then he gasped loudly as the prince’s lips found his.

It was another one to inspire love songs.

“You idiot,” Prince Ian said fondly when eventually they broke apart. “Of course I’m not going anywhere. Unless,” he added, suddenly shy, “you want me to.”

Mikhailo made a face. “No, you fucking moron, I don’t want you to go,” he finally said. “But my dad—”

“We’ll find a way to deal with him. We’ll figure out how to sort it out and set things right between humans and dragons. We’ll find a way, together. Okay?”

And Mikhailo the dragon looked at his prince for a long moment and then he smiled. “Okay.”

At his prince, huh. Surprised you got room for all those big words in your head when your ego’s taking up so much space. All right, then what happened?

They organized a rebellion against the leader of the dragons, I guess. I don’t really know. That’s another story.

What do you mean, another story? Is this it? You spend all that time setting it up but when you get to the good part with the fighting you just stop?

Yeah, it’s getting really late. Kid’s asleep anyway.

Kid’s been out cold since, like, before the dragons even showed up, man, don’t fucking pretend this story was for her. … you really not gonna continue?

Nah, I’ll continue. But for the next scene I figured we might try a little show, don’t tell…

Oh, really? What’s the next scene?

Make-up sex. Prince Ian fucking Mikhailo’s brains out. And hey, spoiler alert: Mikhailo comes four times.

Four times, huh.

Yeah. So… wanna know how it happens?

Okay.

Okay. It starts like this—

---

So, yeah. There we have it. The things we write for Gallavich Week… XD

I am halfway outraged that this is the longest fic I’ve ever written for Gallavich, but I’m rather pleased I managed to write something for this theme! Guess I’ll go to bed both proud and embarrassed and dead tired tonight. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Where I am, we’re half an hour past midnight, but seeing as it’s still Monday somewhere, I have decided that I’m posting on time. Yay me! @gallavichthings

#gallavich #gallavich week 2021 #gw2021 #fic #what have i done #my stuff

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