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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

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Only Live Forever in the Lights You Make

Hey, remember that time Killian met Meg in some tunnels in the Underworld and introduced himself as “Captain Killian Jones” before he called himself “Captain Hook”? Because I do and, surprise, I’ve got some feelings about it! As always, I am still on my season five ‘ish, so here is about 4.2K of name-based feelings, some out of place flirting and some, surprise, Captain Cobra Swan that I didn’t plan on until I typed it. I hope you guys got all the carbs you wanted yesterday.

All credit always and forever to @shireness-says for constantly telling me to keep shoving words at the internet. Even before she reads said words. (I only listened to Arctic Monkeys and My Chemical Romance while writing this. Take from that what you will.)

----

The words are heavy on his tongue.

Still, as if they don’t belong there, or never really did and the feeling makes him ache. Although most of him aches at this point. Killian is sure his gashes have scrapes and those scrapes have bruises and gaping wounds that are likely far more metaphorical than he’s willing to admit. Staring out at the expanse of Main Street doesn’t particularly help. Hazy air hangs low over cracked asphalt, thin branches and dead leaves that only swirl slightly against the barely-there breeze coming from the Gods know where.

There’s no water here. No hint of salt-tinged air.

Occasionally there are some strikes of lightning, leaving the sky bright enough that Killian swears he can see for miles. He wishes he couldn’t. None of it looks right, feels even more wrong, and he supposes that’s to be expected in a place like this, but it also seems like another metaphor of sorts and maybe the torture hasn’t ceased yet.

Maybe it won’t.

He deserves that, he’s sure.

Darkness doesn’t scare him much anymore, at least the more literal variety — or so he will swear, but this is somehow even worse. Every flash of light that cracks across the sky dredges up memories of the kind of storms that threatened to capsize any of the ships he once called home, and he imagines it’s something about extremes.

Complete darkness can blind a man, but so can light. Stunning him, until he has to blink away the dots that hang in front of his eyes and the dots never entirely disappear.

He shouldn’t have told that lass his name.

Foolish, that’s what it was.

“I can hear you thinking from upstairs,” Emma murmurs, slumped against the side of the railing that should lead up to her room in her parent’s loft. Something similar exists in this place, of course. He can’t imagine the blankets on that bed are as soft as the ones he only barely remembers falling into, what now feels like several lifetimes ago and—

“Might be getting worse now, actually,” she adds, “surprised there isn’t steam coming out of your ears too. Y’know, just for good measure.”

Letting out a breath, he’s all too aware of how slumped his shoulders are when he turns. Emma lifts her eyebrows.

“The streets are already steaming,” Killian says, “anything else seems like overkill, doesn’t it?” “Stupid word.” “Aye, that it is. In poor taste.”

“What are you thinking about?” He tilts his head. Strands of hair fall towards his eyes, but Killian doesn’t make any effort to brush them away. “Did he fall asleep?” “Yeah,” Emma nods, eyes flitting back towards her room and the space she’d marched Henry into nearly fifteen minutes earlier. “About time, too. I think he was half a second away from falling asleep standing, could barely keep his eyes open anymore.” “Stubbornness is an inherited trait.” She clicks her tongue. “You think?” “Rather pointed.” “Nah, definitely round,” Emma objects, “in a circle-type way that could bring us back to my question and what you’re thinking about and—” “—Henry shouldn’t be here.” “No.” Jerking his head up the way he does only guarantees that several muscles in the back of his neck almost audibly object to the movement, Emma giving him a tight-lipped smile that isn’t exactly his, but is at least getting there, and that’s something almost vaguely positive.

Her hair is longer than Killian remembers it being.

He tried to remember that.

Before.

Wandering — stumbling, more like — around those caves, blood dripping down the side of his face, caking the same strands of hair that now threaten to actually poke him in the eye, and all he could think about was the exact shade of gold Emma’s hair turned in the moonlight. Preferably when she was also sitting in the harbor, feet hanging above the waves as they passed his flask between them. Or on the deck of his ship.

He didn’t allow himself that particular fantasy very often, though. Getting both felt distinctly like the kind of selfishness he’s now hoping to avoid.

“Stubborn,” Emma shrugs.

“Something about circles, love.” “And going in them, yeah. But I’m also legitimately worried about that pinch between your eyebrows, so seems like as good a time as any to fess.” “Fess?” “Confess,” she amends, “more slang.” Killian’s smile isn’t really that. Is more a grimace and twist of his lips, and yet the weight he’s only marginally worried has taken the place of his heart lightens ever so slightly. Nothing beats yet. He’s still dead. “I like that one, actually.” “When we get home I’ll make you a list.” “Of slang?” “Whatever you want.” Neither one of them move.

He’d like to move. Would love to, really. To cross this space and pull Emma flush against him until she grumbles about the inevitably uncomfortable nature of her perched on either one of his thighs and how his chin digs into her shoulder when he tries to breathe her in, but something about the overall tension in her jaw and the weight of those yet-to-be acknowledged words keeps Killian rooted to the spot.

Every one of those words came out quicker than the last, as if they were an admission Emma wasn’t entirely ready to make and he’s fairly certain the pinch between his eyebrows won’t ever disappear completely. He hopes she doesn’t cut her hair.

He hopes to get his fingers in that hair eventually.

“I mean—” Emma stammers, color rushing in her cheek. “Within—y’know, within...no, fuck that. Whatever you want. Lists of...I don’t know, movies and books and you’re a giant dweeb right? So you’ve got to like books.” “I do, in fact.” “Yeah, yeah, I figured. I just—do they have holidays in the Enchanted Forest? No Thanksgiving or Christmas, right?” Killian shakes his head. Gets the hair away from his eyes. And makes it easier to see the exact moment Emma starts wringing her fingers together. The railing is very likely digging into her shoulder now. “Yeah, that’s what I figured,” she continues, “but uh...shit, what about birthdays? That’s a thing, right?” “Do you think I get two now?”

One side of his mouth tugs up. Despite any efforts otherwise and his own, rather intimate, knowledge of that edge Emma is quite obviously teetering on.

Killian’s been balancing there for the better part of the last few days. Ever since she appeared in front of him again, magic wrapping around him and making goosebumps prickle on his skin, a low heat that felt as if he’d been put on simmer without any threat of boiling because he’s not all that capable of boiling anymore, just festering and stewing and—

“I told that lass my name,” Killian says, voice hardly loud enough to qualify as any sort of sound. One of Emma’s knuckles crack. “The one in the caves, another one of Hades’ prisoners. I can’t—Gods, I can’t remember her name.” “Megara,” Emma whispers. “Yeah, I know.” He quirks an eyebrow, a sudden retreat back to flirting that’s not entirely honest. It’s very likely he’s something of a cad. And it’s easier that way. To slink back into the role, and the person he was and that person deserves everything he’s gotten and may still get.

Of course, he can’t keep it up for very long.

Not with Emma staring at him like that — far too appraising and understanding, and the whole thing fails rather quickly.

Completely. Immediately. A few other words that end in ‘ly,’ just to drive the point home. “Wow, you totally suck at that.” Laughter rumbles in the back of Killian’s throat before he can even begin to rationalize the sound, rubbing his fingers into the raw skin just above his brace. “Fraid you’ll have to be more specific, darling.” “Low blow.” “Endearments, or…” “It’s not going to work,” Emma objects, rolling her eyes when Killian’s mouth shifts in the very specific kind of smirk he knows has always worked. “You don’t just get to start playing pirate and think I’ll swoon enough to get distracted.”

“Suggests I’m still able to distract you.” “Like that would change.”

Heat ripples up his spine. Surprisingly, so. The flicker of normalcy catches Killian off guard, facade slipping for half a moment, and that’s far more time than Emma needs. His hair is greasy when he runs his fingers through it. “Are you something of a soothsayer then, Your Highness? Good at reading minds now?” “More circles, babe. Open books, and all that.” He hums. Can’t do much else, actually. Emotion claws at the center of him, threatens to take root in that stagnant heart of his, and maybe that will help, but it also feels like it could drown him if it had a mind to. The give and take of all this may very well drive him insane quicker than anything Hades could hope for. “How do you know that?” “Which part?” “About the girl,” Killian says, “did you find her?” Emma scrunches her nose. “Regina and I did. In the forest. There was blood and—” She shivers. Tries to hide it, but open book works both ways and he’s always been able to tell when she’s thinking too. Or being inherently stubborn. “I was...well, I wasn’t cool about it.” “Sounds suspiciously like a compliment.” “Ass.” Staying upright is becoming increasingly difficult. “I believe that’s been well-documented, m’dear. I’m sorry about that.” “My inability to insult you better?” “That you thought it was my blood.”

“Presumptuous,” Emma grumbles, although that sort of misses the insult mark as well and he’s genuinely not sure who moves first. Creaking joints give way to a groaning floor, a tangle of limbs and hands that almost immediately search for skin. If only to remind the other that they’re here and real and at least partially alive.

If Killian feels his pulse pick up, he’s sure he imagines it.

That’s not possible.

“And,’ he adds, Emma’s back against the nearest wall now. He has no idea how his head found her thigh. He’s not going to complain. She doesn’t when she inevitably notices how goddamn greasy his hair is. Fair is only fair, after all.

“And?” Eyes fluttering shut, Killian briefly worries for the state of his muscles. Which appear to be unspooling the longer Emma’s fingers move, tracing over his temple and the furrows of his forehead and it takes all the self control he’s only marginally in possession of not to wrap his arms around her, bury his face in her stomach and sob.

“And,” he repeats, “that you were ever uncool about any of this.” Her body shakes when she laughs — soft and disbelieving, which is another marker in the stubborn column, really. Killian doesn’t mention that. He closes his eyes. Breathes. Counts his inhales and takes his time on his exhales, only a little disappointed that the honeysuckle scent has disappeared from Emma’s hair.

“Can I tell you something?” “Anything.” “Half the reason I think we should make a slang list,” Emma says, “is so you can say more of it. Might be one of my favorite things.” “A slang puppet, huh? Here to entertain you.” “Why are you freaking out about telling Megara who—by the way, was not nearly as snarky as her Disney counterpart would have me believe.” “I’m sure being chased around by the three-headed beast of the Underworld will do that to a person.”

Emma’s thumb taps his jaw. Three times. Exactly. “Ah now I feel like an ass.” “Impossible,” Killian mumbles. Turning his head isn’t easy, but he doesn’t have to worry about the rest of his body when he’s splayed out across the floor like this and the muscles in Emma’s stomach noticeably contract when he noses at the hem of her shirt.

She squirms. Above him and below him, and there it is again. More metaphors. More dichotomy, or some other philosophical bullshit he’s not willing to think about now. When Emma’s breath noticeably hitches. As soon as Killian’s teeth graze her skin.

“Distracting—” Gasping, Emma’s nails drag across his scalp. Which isn’t as unpleasant as it probably should be. “Ah shit, I can’t think of—” “Scoundrel? Miscreant? Blackguard?” “What century is that last one from?” “Not nice at all, love,” Killian chides, but Emma just widens her eyes and perhaps they’re both dancing. Without any music. “Probably around the time the first King George ascended the throne.” “There was more than one King George?” “Several, if memory serves. You know those royals. Can’t concern themselves with naming creativity, have to honor the past and whatnot.” “Whatnot,” Emma echoes with a smile. “You want to tell me now? About Megara and how she knew your name.” “I told her, we’ve been over this already.” “Yeah, but—” The rest of the sentence disappears on Emma’s shrug, her lower lip twisted between her teeth. Nerves radiate off her, falling in waves Killian can almost see and nearly remind him of the real thing.

Time doesn’t mean much here. Days pass on loop, and exhaustion is a guarantee more than an occasional state of being. And yet, somehow — as the last few flickers of warmth continue to lap at the base of Killian’s spine, and Emma’s fingers return to their pattern through his hair, something almost like moonlight casts a welcome shadow across the floor. Stretching over Emma’s outstretched legs and bent ankles, it curls up her arm, lingering at her elbow before it drifts towards her hunched shoulders and the edge of Killian’s wrist and then—

It’s gone.

Disappearing as quickly as it arrived, Killian wonders if he imagined it. He didn’t. He knows, he didn’t. Just as easily as he knows it didn’t happen simply because of him.

He licks his lips once.

“I found her,” he starts, “or she found me, I suppose. Not easy to keep your direction underground.” Glancing up, Killian finds Emma’s eyes on him. Wide, they don’t quite demand an explanation, but they want one and he supposes wanting is half the battle. At least metaphorically. “No stars underground, you see.” “Real confident in your navigational abilities huh, Captain?” “Only if you’ll keep saying that.”

She can’t be comfortable when she bends. Twists towards him, and kisses the top of his absolutely disgusting hair.

There’s a shower upstairs. In the right version of it. He’s not sure what’s here. He can’t bring himself to go up there.

An absolute coward.

“Anyway,” Killian continues, “there was a three-headed monster, this lass, and I—we weren’t both going to get out.” “You let her go, though. Told her to go.” He nods. Talking is something of a challenge once more. “As if you’d ever do anything else,” Emma mumbles, a note of pride in her voice that makes every one of Killian’s internal organs clench. That’s all they can do, really. None of them are working all that great, after all.

“That’s not true.” Tensing, Emma’s fingers still. “That wasn’t really you.” “Ah, that’s not totally true, either. It was at least partially me, all those deep-rooted desires given free reign. But I wanted...she was so scared, Swan.” He doesn’t bother mentioning the rest. Being more specific seems pointless, especially when Emma’s fingers stay exactly where they are. And she knows, anyway. He was terrified. Of what he’d lost and what he’d done and what he’d still be willing to do, if it meant she got out of here.

Safe.

He wants them all safe.

“I told her to find you,” he rasps. “That—I knew you were here, could...feel it, almost. No matter where I was or—” This may be their least organized conversation. Full of tiptoeing and heavy words, unspoken meaning that neither one of them is entirely ready to give credence to yet. “Gave her my name, my—my real name.”

Hair brushes the top of his head, softer than it has any right to be and several things in Killian’s chest threaten to combust. “I was doing a lot of yelling of your name in that bloody forest.” “Joke, or…” “Fresh out of jokes, I think.” He noses at her jeans, not sure if he’s desperate to touch her or the opposite. Desperate to brand himself there, so she’ll remember. No matter what else happens. “I didn’t even think about it,” he admits, “just—I told her to find you, said I was Captain Killian Jones, like that was something I could say, and that you needed to know I was here.” Emma’s silent for a moment.

Another. Two moments. That become three and four and then Killian’s counting his inhales again and doing his best not to stare too intently at her. She kisses his hair again. Luke she can’t help herself.

“Had to use the title, didn’t you?” Killian exhales. “Haven’t in quite some time.” “Did you think I wouldn’t have known it was you?” Emma teases, so the joke-thing was something of a lie. A nice one as far as misplaced lies go. Making another noise, he finally burrows closer to her until it’s closer to snuggling and clinging and another round of goosebumps explode on his skin when her hand flattens against his back. “Or,” she says, “was it something else?” “Several somethings, maybe.” “Wanna ballpark for me?” “Not sure I understand that one, actually.” “I don’t need all the somethings, but a few would be good right now. We can get to the rest of them later.”

Those words don’t necessarily fall on top of him. They’re as heavy as the rest, all that meaning and the possibility for a future that seems as distant and impossible as the past or the overall softness of the bedding upstairs. So, while gravity does its best to pull the words down on top of Killian, there’s an ease to them that makes it feel as if they’re simply resting across his back, a reminder that helps keep him pressed to this plane and this place and Emma’s left thigh.

Which is one of his favorite places to be, quite frankly.

Usually without the jeans in the way, but dead beggars can’t be choosers.

“I don’t know why I did that. The name, I—” “Liar, liar.” “Would you like to talk about pants, Swan? Because I have my fair share of thoughts regarding the ones you were wearing in Storybrooke.” “I didn’t pick that outfit.” “Rather good happenstance, then.” “Is deflection a required pirate characteristic?” she asks. “Distract your enemy with half-hearted compliments and—” “—Oh no, those are full-hearted, I guarantee.” “If nothing else, I did look stupid good in those pants.” “Hair left something to be desired, but the pants fit like a glove.” Her smile almost reaches her eyes. Obvious when light filters through the gauzy curtains, once more. “Flirt.” “Only with you.” Emma’s eyes widen. Not in surprise. Closer to frustration. A hint of impatience. The stubborn sort of determination that requires an answer. “And, I—I wanted it.” “Wanted what?” “To be that. Again, I suppose. After everything. All that I’d done, and how much I’d hurt you, I—”

“—You didn’t…” “Swan, let’s be honest that’s the worst lie either one of us has told.” “Ever?” “If not longer.” Huffing out a laugh, she slides further down the wall, a move that can’t feel good on her spine, but does ensure that she’s closer to Killian and he’s still enough of a pirate to want exactly that. “But I—a very long time ago, Captain Killian Jones believed in something. Wanted something, and thought he could get it. Even if some of it was distinctly lawless.” “Probably a requirement for your line of work.” “Ah, well that king deserved all the insults you could come up with. Stealing from him, destroying everything he’d built. That felt like justice, somehow.” “Should I mention the circular nature of time again or is that redundant?” “Unnecessary,” Killian agrees, his mouth inching further up Emma’s ribcage. The noise she lets out is closer to a giggle than he’s capable of dealing with. In a place that’s always tinged vaguely red. “I suppose part of me wanted to return to that. To the ideals, maybe not the laws or the uniforms, but certainly not the…” He swallows. “Villain. Evil. Wrong.” “I never thought you were wrong,” Emma says, soft enough that it’s difficult to hear. Over the ringing in Killian’s ears. And whatever rushes off her. Magic, of course. Responding to emotion and its innate desire to meet him halfway.

Gods, but he loves her more than he ever believed he could.

“I know that,” Killian promises, “even when I didn’t want to. Especially then.” “Make it sound less like an insult next time.” Tightening his arms isn’t easy when there’s this blasted wall in the way. Killian tries all the same. Emma doesn’t tell him to stop. “You were Captain Hook,” she adds, “when we found you. Buried under all those bodies in the Enchanted Forest.” “Eventually that’s really all that was left.” “I can make some more snide comments on pants, if you want. What’s the flammability of leather?” “I have no idea, honestly.” She smiles. He doesn’t check. Knows, can feel it in the very center of soul. “Ah, well, they can probably catch fire. Regina’s going to teach me how to do those ball things, anyway.” “Absolutely menacing, Your Highness.” “Don’t you forget it.”

The room is getting brighter.

Or Killian’s finally fallen off that edge. Either one seems entirely reasonable and maybe even a little enjoyable and he’s not sure when, exactly, he decides to start talking again. Only that the words arrive without much thought and even more feeling and Emma’s eyes don’t leave him.

“It was a mask. A reason for everything else, an excuse that I’d rationalized so I could fall asleep. Captain Hook was a product of his own misfortune, all those unfair hands he’d been dealt. The loss, the anger, the fury that grew every single time metal found skin. Being that, being him, allowed me to drift further and further into that darkness.” “But?” “But,” Killian repeats. “You found me under a pile of bodies in the Enchanted Forest.” “Oh, that’s kind of nice.” “It kind of was. After you got rid of the blade at my neck.” She flicks his chest. The knot of their limbs is another kind of miracle. “And then everything else that happened. Beanstalks, and Cora, and magic beans and—” “—You came back,” Emma cuts in. “Seems you’ve returned the favor several times over, love.” “That’s how it’s supposed to work, I think.” Maybe he’ll marry her.

The thought strikes him as suddenly as the lightning that flashes outside, a spark that’s eerily similar to the flames Emma was just talking about and there are far too many metaphors bouncing around his skull. He might just have a headache.

And yet the thought doesn’t disappear. Not immediately. No, it settles. Threatens to grow at the forefront of his brain, where the institution of marriage has never been given much consideration. Until now. With his left shoulder close to popping out of his socket, and Emma’s fingers in his hair and her back contorted while half a dozen bruises on his legs refuse to heal.

“I love you,” Killian says, unable to do anything else. Except propose, apparently. He should be alive for that.

And sitting up.

He can’t bring himself to sit up.

Only pull himself closer to Emma, until it’s obvious how much he wants and possibly needs and something about a circle. Coming back. Over and over.

“I know. Which is—” “—Good?” “Better,” Emma says. “I love you, too. Just you, you know that right?” Nodding leads to jeans scratching at his cheeks, but these pants fit fairly well too and both of them flinch at the noticeable creak coming down the stairs. Tufts of Henry’s hair stick up in every direction.

“You ok?” Emma asks her son, only to get a teenage-type shrug and genetically inherited head tilt.

Killian narrows his eyes. “What’s the matter, my boy?” The head tilt reaches an angle unaccomplished by anyone over the age of twenty-five. Killian isn’t even sure he could attempt such an angle. But it doesn’t seem to bother Henry and neither he nor Emma point out the use of those particular words in that particular order. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mutters, already stumbling forward. Falling is likely far too generous a descriptor for whatever Henry does next, another mess of limbs that adds to Killian and Emma’s knot, and there are a few more grunts than there should be.

From all of them.

Until they find something resembling comfort, Killian’s head still on Emma’s thigh and her legs stretched out so Henry can take advantage of her right one and— “Probably should have found a pillow,” Killian mutters, hoping it sounds like the apology he wants it to be. It’s not enough. Nothing ever could be, really. And he’s not all that surprised by Emma’s head shake, the way it makes her hair sway and brighten under the bit of light they’ve probably created just now and she winces when Henry’s chin digs into her knee. He starts snoring five seconds later. “I’m fine,” Emma says, and it’s impossible to argue with her. Even in this impossible place. “You’re comfortable like this.”

His heart thumps.

With wishful thinking or more misplaced hope, but it’s there all the same and he kisses exactly where his lips land.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #laura writes canon #CAN'T STOP WON'T STOP WRITING SEASON FIVE ANGST #i saw some gifs of this moment last night and my brain was like: alright go #also: if the timeline of this doesn't make sense #don't tell me #i kind of looked at some episode synopsis and then decided i absolutely did not care #and if you can't see main street from mary margaret's loft then that's just too bad

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spellthemoon · 3 years

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THAT WINTER

Mark Tuan x Reader. Angst.

***

Winter, 2019

Today, there was a rude customer. She treated me like i'm her servant. I really wanted to scream but i bit my tongue to keep being professional. It wasn't a good day but i'm finally in my room wearing my pajama. I hope tomorrow will be a better day. How's your day, Mark?

Today i went to a cafe alone. It was so comfortable. But there's a couple sitting in front of me. They looked so cute. It made me miss you more. How are you, Mark?

Spring, 2019

I'm so sad now. I fight my with friend. I caught her boyfriend holding hands with another girl and i told her but she didn't trust me. She said i should mind my own business. Am i wrong?

Summer, 2019

I feel so lonely these days. I feel like everyone is leaving me one by one. You too.

Winter, 2020

After a long tiring day, the thought of writing an email for you is enough to give me strength through the day. I know you're not going to reply. Maybe you will not even read my emails. Well, do you even still use this email? Regardless, please allow me to use this email to talk to you. This is the only way to reach you and it's enough for me. Anyway, how's the weather in LA?

Summer, 2020

Why did you leave me without a word?

I miss you. Please come back to me. I miss you so much.

Winter, 2020

Mark, how's your day? I hope you're healthy and doing well. Mark, Mark Tuan. The name i really miss to call. The name that brings me smile and tears.

Mark, i'm sorry for everything. If you read all my emails, i must be look so pathetic to you. It's been two years but i keep doing this. I didn't understand why you left just like that. I didn't understand why you cut me off just like that. Even when i can finally meet you, i will not ask any question. From now on, i'll just accept it. Now i know what i need is not an answer. What i need the most is acceptance. I'll accept that we have to parted ways like this. I'll accept the fact that we already ended. I'm sorry it took me two years. I'll stop what i've been doing for the past two years. Goodbye, Mark. I'm sorry..

***

It's been two months since you stopped send any email to him again. It's still hard for you because you used to do that whenever you need someone to listen to you about what you feel. You can't tell anyone else but him. You used his inbox as your own diary and now you decided to close it forever. So much questions are still lingering on your mind. Why he left you without a word when the two of you didn't even fight? What kind of mistake you did to be left alone just like that? How could you heard it from anyone else? Leaving you like a fool. Why did he treat you like you didn't exist? Why did he has to hurt you like that?

Day by day, the questions are on your mind. You keep thinking about it every single night for the whole two years. Your heart is broken into pieces and you can't even cry anymore. But right now, you decided to close all the feelings and memories. It's time to accept the fact that someone whom you love has dumped you. He abandoned you. You have to accept it so you heart will be in peace.

You started with the emails and deleting all the pictures you have with him. You throw away his clothes from your closet. You still have a hard time to erase all the memories of him from your mind but you do it little by little. You tried to not have any grudge, you tried to only remember him as a good person, as someone you once loved. You do that for your own good. So, you won't be living your life in vain. So, you can fully accept it and start your day with the new you. You, who stop hoping for someone who doesn't want to be on your side.

***

You decided to have a night walk on your way home. It's the end of winter season so the wind still feels so cold but not freezing. You love it this way. Winter is your favorite season although it brings some an odd feelings to you. Winter is the season when you feel so lonely the most but it's also the season that makes you calm.

You enjoyed the night breeze and walked slowly. It's how you relieve the stress through the day. You feel refresh again. You looked up to the sky and really appreciated the moon that gives the light to your night.

You just looked around the streets and the branches that soon will have a beautiful flower. The night was so more beautiful than usual. It was when you see a really familiar figure about five meters from you, you stopped your step. Your whole body was malfunctioning in second. You were in the verge of crying when you thought that you're just hallucinating. You can't trust your own eyes. The person who also looked at you without a sound, took his step closer to you.

When you saw Mark moved forwards from his place, you took a step back. Three more steps back when he took another step to you. You wanted to scream at him, telling him to stop but you can't even open your mouth.

Mark hesitated to take another step when he saw you took a step back. His heart was pounding crazily. His hands were so cold. It's so hard for him catch a breath. Mark kept move forwards to get closer to you. He took other steps more confidently when you stayed at your place. He could see your expression and he felt like someone just throw a big punch to his chest.

"It's been a while." He said when he's already in less than one meter from you.

***

You couldn't avoid the situation even though you wanted to escape from this so badly. You were so confident that you already forgetting everything about him but it's all crushed when he's here, sitting next to you at the park in winter night. You couldn't even look at his face because you're afraid that you'll cry like a mess. You don't want that. He's no one, right now.

"How are you?" Mark started the conversation carefully. He looked at you who still avoiding to look at him.

"I'm good." You said. You tried to show him that you don't want a further conversation even though you still have all the questions of why he left on your mind. But you buried those deep inside your heart. It's over already.

"I'm here just to see you."

You really didn't know what to answer. You just wanted to run away from this situation so you just stayed quiet. You didn't care about his reason why he wanted to see you. At least you tried to convince yourself that you don't care anymore.

"I want to explain anything. For what i did two years ago." Mark said in a calm manner.

How could he? How could he's so calm like that when he knows he crushed your heart two years ago.

You hold back your tears. You have promised yourself you will not cry because of him again. You will not let yourself hear a word from him. Not after two years.

"You don't need to. It's already two years ago." You said, still didn't look at him.

"But i still think i have to explain everything to you. I want..."

"And i think i have a right to not want to hear it, don't you think so?" You cut him off and raised your voice intentionally.

"I always read your emails." Mark's words made you close your mouth. "I.. i always waited for your email. Everytime."

Now he made you more confused than before. You don't understand his mind at all. "What are you saying?"

Mark looked down because the guilt feelings attacked him strongly. He suddenly couldn't face you. He deserves tha hatred look from your eyes.

"I needed to go back to LA because of family matters. My parents needed me to be there."

"I said i don't want to hear it." You stood up and ready to walk away from him but Mark hold your hand.

He let go of your hand when he realized that it feels so strange to hold your hand after two years.

"Please. Please let me explain everything. I know it won't change anything but please give me time to tell you what happened." Mark pleaded.

"I didn't tell you anything and just left you without saying anything was because i was so scared that i wouldn't have a guts to leave. I was so scared that i would abandoned my family for you. I was scared if i came to you before i go back, i wouldn't be able to leave." Mark finished his words and gasping. He didn't let you cut his words. "Reading your email always saddened me but it kept me working hard to settle my family matters so i can come back to here. To you. You suddenly stop sending email for months and i was so worried."

Now you can look at Mark's eyes. He got teary eyes just like you. But you won't let a single tear falls.

"You did those things for yourself, right? But did you ever think about me? For how broken i was? We were just talking at night and suddenly you're gone in the morning and left me with nothing." You're out of breath. "I was worried like a mad woman, did you know that? When your friend told me that you're going back to LA, did you know how confused i was? And now what? You said you read my emails? You wait for it?" You let out a hurtful laugh. You're so sure people nearby can hear how thick the sadness you have in your voice.

"Mark, you didn't just broke my heart as a girl. You broke me as a person." You took a deep breath. You have to finish this fast because you feel like you'll throw up. Your head is so hurt. "For the past two years, i can't sleep peacefully. I feel so lost. I keep asking myself what did i do to you. When i decided to stop send you an email was because i wanted to forget everything about you. I'm almost there. It's no use to explain everything to me right now. It's too late, Mark."

You hope Mark will stop because you can't handle anything anymore. Him explaining everything to you is like reminding you to the wound that almost healed.

Mark couldn't say anything because he heard you. He heard how your voice was so hoarse and how your face was full of sorrow and frustration. Mark knew he's selfish. He hurts you twice. When he left you, he was only thinking about himself and now when he came to you after two years, he's only thinking about himself too. If Mark was someone else, he'd make sure to punch himself hard on the face.

Mark could not even call your name when you turned your back and walked away from him. He was looking at your back with regrets.

#mark tuan scenarios #mark tuan scenario #mark scenarios #got7 scenarios #markscenarios #marktuan #mark angst #got7 #mark tuan

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euphoriyoongi · 3 years

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♥︎ Seven Deadly Sins ♥︎ ot7

♥︎ One ♥︎

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Summary: The seven princes of hell, who are the embodiment of the seven deadly sins, are sent on a mission to find the human with the purest soul. The prince who successfully retrieves the pure soul will become the next king..but what happens when all 7 of the princes fall in love with the beautiful soul?

♥︎ Pairings: ot7 x OC (original character)

♥︎ Genre: fantasy; fluff, smut, angst

♥︎Word Count: 4.0k

♥︎ Warnings: smut/sexual scenes and situations, heavy language, polyamory

♥︎Rating: Mature (18+)

prev. //next.

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The world is a hellish place, that's for sure.

Everywhere you look, you see some form of evil. Whether it be someone spending too much on a purse, or someone looking at themselves in the mirror thinking that they are the best thing since sliced bread.

The thing is, most of these humans don't realize what they're doing. They show little-to-no respect or gratefulness for the things they have. Most of them believe that they need more. That one dollar isn't enough. So then if they had a million...would that not be enough either?

It's all a race. For example, two brothers racing to have a better life when in reality they're just wasting it away to receive superficial things that will just be gone when they leave this world. It's idiotic, and self-centered. If people actually thought about how well they have it, they wouldn't sin. And well, every single human being sins on this planet. It's what makes it go around.

The person sitting next to you at a restaurant just ate his girlfriend's food of her plate. The waiter is stealing another waiters tip money. The owner of the restaurant is sleeping with someone else's wife. The customer threw his drink at the waitress because his food was too cold. The group of teenagers won't get up to leave to make room for the next group. Sin. It's all around. And there's no escaping it.

Well, unless you're the Pure Soul.

Choi Nari. Her name means Lily in English. And the name lily means "purity."

She's known for her ethereal looks, and cascading long black hair that flows so softly. She's sent from heaven, but has no idea of her origins. She only believes she's a human just like everyone else. And lives a life filled with peace and love.

She never harmed a single soul in all of her lifetimes. Once every hundred years, she is reborn, and every one of those years, she's avoided the devil, whom wants her all to himself. The reason? Well, you always want what you can't have, right? The devil is all sins, himself.

This reincarnation, however, will be a bit different. There's something different about her, and the only way she'll be able to avoid the devil is if she avoids sin.

The devil has his own plans, though. Hell stop at nothing to have her. He will send all of his seven sons to earth, for they need to bring her back alive so he could deal with her. And the son that successfully brings her back, will become the next king of hell.

His sons were the embodiment of the seven deadly sins. And his goal was to make the Pure Soul suffer all seven of them, and make her sin to have her all for himself.

If this plan works, he'd successfully take away all the food in the world. So, he hopes all seven of his boys will not falter at her beauty.

"You what us to do what?" Yoongi huffed at his father, crossing his arms over his chest. "Hell no, I'm not fucking leaving my soft bed for that."

Yoongi is the prince of laziness, and definitely lived up to his title. He dreamed of living as a rock in his next life, but sadly, his next life was never going to occur. He was immortal. There was ways he could die, though. But for now, the best he could do was imagine he was a rock while he slept.

The devil growled. "Sloth, you dare to deny me?"

All seven of the boys were gathered in the throne room, where the devil sat on a large chair that floated on flames. The room was all black, with a bit of red detailing.

The devil was very old. He wanted to retire the throne to one of his sons, but he didn't know which one he should give it to. They were all so untrustworthy and well, the only one who he probably could trust was the one who envisions himself as a rock. That's just sad.

When Yoongi didn't answer him, The devil's voice boomed across the high-ceilings. "God damnit sloth! You're so slow sometimes."

Smiling, Yoongi winked at his father. "It's what I do best, dad."

Still fuming, the devil looked towards his oldest son, who was currently eating a bowl of noodles. "I-how did you even get those?" He smacked a hand to his head, sighing. This was ridiculous.

Jin didn't even answer. He just kept slurping his noodles until his father got mad enough to move on with what he was saying.

"Listen, my sons. I need you to retrieve the Pure Soul."

"The pure soul?" Jimin smirked. "That hot ass chick from heaven?"

The devil smiled viciously. "Yes, that's right." Rubbing his hands together, he raised an eyebrow. "And son, I give you full permission to seduce her in any way." He laughed, knowing she wouldn't be able to cave in from his charm.

"So, she's hot? Does she need money?" Taehyung smirked as well, crossing his arms. "I could give her anything in the world."

This was getting out of hand. All he needed was for his boys to bring her back here. "Okay. Anyway, you have 100 days to bring this beast back here, got it? And none of you dare to get attached to her, or you'll be dead meat." He huffed, praying they wouldn't turn against him. Heh, praying. He hasn't done that in a while.

"She couldn't be any near attractive as me, father." Namjoon smiled. "You have nothing to worry about."

The devil hoped that were true, but he knew how beautiful this woman was, and also knew that his sons have never seen anyone like her. Even Lust, who's slept with countless demons and everything in between. He's never seen a pure soul. And even the devil himself wouldn't be able to resist.

“So, what do we get if we bring her back?” Taehyung smirked, looking at his brothers. They all looked as if they didn’t care. Well, except Jimin. He just wanted something to fuck. But Taehyung knew what he wanted. And what he wanted was to take his father’s place. His greed was strong for it, and wouldn’t stop for anything or anyone.

The devil smiled. Finally. He should’ve known it was going to be greed. He couldn’t turn down anything especially if he’ll get something out of it. “Well, the throne, of course.” He shrugged his arms upward, a sneer on his lips. “That is, if you earn it.”

“Oh, believe me, father. I will.” He laughed, looking towards his younger brother, Jungkook.

Jungkook was starting to get mad. He absolutely hated it when Taehyung would get whatever he wanted. It just wasn’t fair. As his eyes began to fade from a dark brown to a vibrant red, the prince of envy patted his shoulder. “Down, boy.”

His eyes faded back to their usual color. Envy was nice, when he wasn’t jealous. He was a sweetheart, and always seemed to be able to calm him down. He goes by Hobi, but his name is Hoseok.

“Alright. Now. Are you guys ready.” The devil growled impatiently. “Do you have everything you need?”

Every one of his sons nodded, except Yoongi. He was now sleeping while standing up. Was that even possible?

“Sloth!” The devil sneered, just waking him enough to blink. “Dammit I don’t even—Do you have everything you need?”

Yawning, he opened his mouth to mumble “have everything for what?”

Silence broke out among them. “You…you know what..just fucking go.” With the flick of his hand, the boys were now transported through time to the planet earth, where they now need to search for the Pure Soul. But wait..how will they find her?

South Korea

Spring time, 2021

The trees were blossoming. The beautiful colors of whites and pinks danced as the petals fell to the ground. Nari was enchanted with them. Their beauty was astounding. She wished she was like them, to be so graceful, even while they fell.

Her favorite season was spring. She lived a full twenty five years of life constantly waiting for spring to come back around every year. She loved to see the flowers bloom, and all the aromas of different plants. She wished she was one. They never had to worry about anything. They just looked pretty.

She never had any friends to share her happiness with. She always wished for some, praying to god that she won't be alone anymore. Was there a reason why she was? Was it because she always agreed with everyone? Was it because she was too nice?

Well, she was too nice, but she had no control over that. It's just how she was made. She didn't know she was from heaven. She only knew that her family died when she was small, and doesn't remember them. So she was alone in this world, lost and left to find her way through life. She only wished she had someone to love unconditionally, just like the couples she'd see as she'll walk down the streets.

Nari made her way back to her small apartment. It was perfect for her though. Just enough space for her to cohabitate with her cat, Mochi. There was one bedroom, and a living space that combined with the kitchen. A tiny bathroom was across from her room, but it was big enough to have a full-sized tub in it. She did like baths more than showers, anyway.

As she walked into her bedroom, her cat was sprawled out on its back on the bed, purring as it slept. Mochi was a happy cat, and loved belly rubs and being held. She’s never had a cat that loved as much attention as mochi did, and he was the type of cat that never wanted to leave her side.

“Hello, mochi mochi.” She smiled, giving him a little pet. “How’s my cutie?” The cat let out a large yawn, then started to stretch out his paws. “Ah. Big stretch.” She chuckled, letting the cat continue to sleep and walked over to her desk in front of the window.

All over it was scattered drawings and short poems she’d write when she was bored. There was something off with her, though, and she knew it. She always wondered why she flowed with everything that went on around her. No matter what it was, she’d agree with it. That includes relationships.

Nari has never been in one. Despite how stunningly beautiful she was, no one would give her the time of day. She also didn’t know her own beauty, which might be part of the reason. But was she meant to live alone in this world? Was that her purpose?

Feeling upset with herself, she walked over to her full-body mirror. There she stood, her long white dress flowed down past her knees, and her long black hair fell down towards her backside. She curled the ends of it today, feeling happy with the way it looked. Her eyes were a hazel type color, but closer to green that black. Her lips were a soft pink, that plumped and were Un-chapped.

She was beautiful. No one would be able resist her. And now, the reason she’s never had a significant other was because she never let herself notice that someone was trying. That could be because god hated the idea of it. Her soul purpose was to keep sin away from taking over the world. He never expected her to start thinking for herself. She’s been reincarnated since the beginning of time. So why is she starting to think for herself?

She spent 25 years of life without any sexual activity. Without anything special in her life. She never had a family, and works as an ice cream shop cashier. There’s nothing to her life. No purpose. She wanted to change that. But as soon as that thought went through her head, it left like a flicker of light.

“Dude, this is absolutely ridiculous.” Yoongi huffed once again, just wanting to rest. “How are we supposed to find her.”

“Yeah.” Taehyung sighed, holding pink petals in his hands that were falling down from the branches above. “Anyway, what are these things?”

“I wonder if they taste good.” Jin giggled as he stuffed a few in his mouth. Spitting them out after a few chews, he shook his head. “Nope. Not good.”

Namjoon was sitting down on the ground with his legs crossed. There were lots of people walking by, and he noticed a man fixing his hair in the camera of his phone. Smirking, he closed his eyes and made the man see himself in a new light. Too bad that new light was for him to think too highly of himself. The man then tossed his phone onto the ground and walked away, thinking he was too good to have one.

“Damn, Joon. We just got here.” Hoseok muttered. “Let’s just stick to our task.”

Nodding, Jungkook spoke up. “Yeah, let’s find this girl so we don’t combust.”

Jin side-eyes him. “What do you mean, combust?”

“Well, you were too busy eating to even pay attention to father.” Jk rolled his eyes at his hyung. Leaning up against one of the trees, he smirked. “Father said he’ll kill us if we don’t find the girl.”

Jin bursts out in laughter. “Yeah, right. As if he—wait you’re serious?” His face turned from playful to worried. “I—oh, you are serious.”

“We need a plan.” Taehyung dropped the flower petals off his palm and dusted them off. “I say we split up.”

“It’ll be an uneven number then.” Jimin pointed out, who seemed to be in and out of the conversation. There were plenty of pretty girls walking around, and he was turning himself on. “Anyway, I just want something to fuck. I’ve never fucked a human before..”

Ignoring Jimin, Namjoon agreed with Tae. “Yeah, Tae, I think we should do that too.” He pointed to Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung. “You guys go one way, we’ll go the other.”

Yoongi was surprisingly awake, and agreed also. “Alright. That’s good with me. As long as I don’t gotta do any work.”

As the boys set on to where they needed to be, little did they know that Nari passed them out as she was walking to work.

They kept walking, and Taehyung noticed a brand new car roll up to the curb. Smirking, he left the group to go check it out.

He walked around it with his arms behind his back, looking it over. He must’ve looked off because the owner of the car came out and asked what he needed.

Wrong question.

“What do I need, you ask?” Tae smiled down at the man. “What I need..is this car.” He smirked, his eyes turning into an icy blue. He wanted it, and he’ll get it. The man proceeded to give him the keys and stood stationary, and Taehyung called over Jimin and Jungkook.

“Let’s go boys!” He yelled, and hopped into the drivers seat. He didn’t even know how to drive, but he’ll make himself.

“That was fucking sick, hyung!” Jimin high-fived hun as Jungkook sat in the back with a frown on his face.

Jimin noticed. “What’s wrong, Jk?” He asked him, turning back towards him in the leather seat.

“I wanted that fucking seat.” He hissed at him, sending daggers through his eyes. This made Jimin nervously laugh, and he turned back around.

“Anyway!” Jimin changed the subject. “Where should we look for her? What does she even look like, anyway?”

As Tae drove, he described her. “Well, she has long black hair and a bright soul. We should be able to see who she is the minute our eyes land on her.”

“Ah.” Jimin nodded. “Well, the minute my eyes land on her is the minute I’ll fuck her.”

“Jesus, Jimin. Lay off the sex for once. Some of us need it too.” Jungkook growled from the back seat.

This made Jimin laugh. “Yeah, as if anyone would be attracted to your wrath ass.”

“Don’t piss him off, Jimin. I really want a peaceful ride.” Tae huffed, stepping on the gas. “I say we look around a shopping mall. Girls like shopping here too, right?”

“I like shopping.” Jk muttered under his breath.

“I say we should go to a park or something.” Jimin chimed in.

Taehyung scrunched his nose. “The fuck is a park?”

Letting it pass, they decided to drive to the nearest mall, while the older brothers were currently walking by foot to find her.

“Do you think she’ll like me? I think she’ll love me. I mean, who wouldn’t? Look at me!” Joon laughed, talking himself up as they walked amongst the humans. “I’m getting all the stares!”

“Um, no. I think it’s actually Yoongi. He looks like he’s dead.” Hoseok chimed, holding in his laughter.

Yoongi was sleepwalking. He couldn’t keep his head up, and was nearly walking like a zombie. He was catching all the eyes around him and Namjoon thought it was all for him. Well, he was most certainly attractive. But he wasn’t the reason for the stares.

Pouting, Namjoon rolled his eyes. “I’m sure I’m the reason for some of them at least.”

“Oh my god! Look! It’s a noodle restaurant!” Jin excitedly chanted, jumping up and down. He was a grown man, and looked like he was a kid at a candy store. “Let’s go!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea—hey!” Hoseok got cut off as Jin grabbed ahold of his shirt.

All four of them sat down at a table, their legs too long for the chairs. All seven of the boys were above six feet tall. That was because Satan was nearly seven feet.

“Do you think that the other boys found the girl yet?” Namjoon said as he chomped on the noodles. The noodles that they weren’t going to be able to pay for.

“Nah.” Yoongi said, shaking his head. “But if they did, good for them I guess.”

Jin was already on his fifth bowl. “I don’t really want to be king anyway. I just came here for the food.”

“Jesus fuck.” Hobi grunted. The soup part was too hot for him. “This is fucking spicy. Why is it spicy?”

“Maybe because you got the chili powder.” Jin chuckled, grabbing Hoseok’s bowl. “Here, I’ll eat it.”

Hoseok glared at him with a frown. “I don’t know how you’re so skinny.”

“Alright guys.” Joon clapped. “We should get a move on with finding her.”

When no one responded to him, he sighed, shaking his head. “Maybe I should’ve picked a better group.”

As Joon was thinking this, Taehyung was thinking the same thing.

“Alright, where is Jimin at now?” Tae sighed, putting a hand up to his head as they stood in the middle of the mall. They looked like giants amongst all of the people there, making them stand out even more. Jungkook stood next to Tae, also wondering where Jimin went.

“All I know is that he said something about going to flirt with the cute girls.” Kook stated, shaking his head. “I don’t know which cute girls he was talking about, though.”

“Oh my god. It’s never ending with him. We can’t bring him anywhere.”

It was silent for a moment, until Jungkook spoke up again. “Do you ever get so mad that you just want to kill them?”

Taehyung looked at him, blinking. “I can’t take you anywhere, either.”

While Taehyung was having an existential crisis, Nari was three stores down from him in her cute ice cream shop.

A few cute boys walked in, and ordered some ice cream. As she gathered their order, one of them kept asking for her number. “My number? Like a phone number?” She mumbled, scrunching her eyebrows.

“Yes.” The cute boy nodded, a smile on his face when he thinks he’s getting it.

“Ah, that. Well, I don’t have a phone.” She smiled at him, and continued to scoop his ice cream. The bus’s friends all laughed at this, making the one who asked get upset.

“Listen here you little bitch.” The boy reached over to grab her by the neck, making her confused as to why he freaked out. She just said she didn’t have a phone. As he pulled her against the glass of the ice cream stand, someone’s voice boomed through the shop.

“Hey hey, that’s no way to treat a lady.” The boy said playfully, making the boy who was holding Nari falter. “Well, only when you’re in bed, I guess.”

His hair was a dark blue, almost black. His eyes nearly looked as if they were a pink of some sort, but maybe he was wearing contacts.

After that comment, the blue haired man stood face-to-face with the asshole who held Nari. Letting her go, he turned toward him. “Who the fuck are you?” He said, his two friends standing behind him with crossed arms.

The mysterious man didn’t even look over at Nari. He just glared at the boy. In came two more boys, who immediately walked over to the mysterious guy. One of them had longer hair than the other, but both of them had black hair. All three of them were unusually tall, and looks as if they had no fear. The longer haired guy spoke up. “I’ll beat your ass so hard you won’t be able to walk.”

The three other boys seemed to get a bit scared, knowing they had no chance against these guys. Nari stood there, in awe of their beauty. She never had thoughts of anyone like this. They were all so beautiful, she just wanted to know more. She wanted to know why they were standing up for her.

As the three childish boys ran out of the store, Nari caught eyes with the blue haired boy, who immediately dropped his jaw.

Jimin couldn’t believe his eyes. There she stood, the most beautiful soul of the human race. Her long locks were held back by a scrunchie, and her eyes were lined with black eyeliner. She was so beautiful, he couldn’t help but stare. He wanted her.

Taehyung felt the same way as well. How in the world could a creature like this exist in the world. Is this way his father wanted her? He began to experience dirty thoughts, some of them pertaining to keeping her all to himself. That could be because of who he was—Greed. He wanted her. He wanted her bad.

Jungkook was quietly staring, his eyes open wide. He’s never experienced this feeling before, but to be fair, he’s never seen someone so beautiful in all his years of life. He wished to have something so passionately, and that something was her. He didn’t care that his brothers were also infatuated with her, he wanted her all to himself, too.

Nari didn’t even know what she had done to the boys. She had no idea that she was made just to compel the sins themselves.

What was she supposed to do now? Was she supposed to thank them? She really had no idea. But before she had the opportunity to say anything, one of the boys said something first.

“Well, we finally meet.” Taehyung smirked. “Choi Nari. The Pure Soul.”

“The..the what?”

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prev. // next.

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #park jimin #bts hoseok #bts joonie #jung hoseok #jungkook #bts fanfic #kim seokjin

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palimpsessed · 3 years

Text

So @captain-aralias did one of these and invited other writers to do the same. And I wasn't really going to because it feels a bit late now and also I've done quite a few other year in review posts for 2020. But then I got to thinking that it would be really nice to have one of these for each year to look back on and compare, which convinced me. So, here we go!

If you’re a writer, I’d also encourage you to steal this. Tag me on your post so I can see your thoughts! 🥰

List of Complete Fics for 2020 1. At the Top of a Tower, With You- General, 900 words 2. Use Your Words- Teen, 16k 3. A Man of Letters, or Five Times Baz Retreats and the One Time He Doesn’t- Teen, 54k 4. To the Manor Borne- Teen, 43k

Total: 4 fics, 113k words

Every one of these fics was written for an event, which, realistically, is the only reason they got finished. I have so many ideas I'm working on all at once, and I came into fandom with a focus on making art, so to actually find the motivation to sit down and write/finish/post a fic was entirely deadline based. And it's a technique I'm sure I will also employ in 2021.

Best/Worst Title?

Well, I've mentioned a few times before that I usually have a title before I have much in the way of a fic concept. I don't really dislike any of the my titles, because they all did exactly what I needed them to do, which was help me focus on what I wanted to accomplish in the fic. Comparatively speaking, though, I can answer this.

Best: Use Your Words - succinct, idiomatic, a book quote/motif that also has the potential to be a spell, does what it says on the tin, is probably what all of us are constantly yelling at Baz and Simon to do throughout the books and the fic itself

(Honorable mention to A Man of Letters because that title forms a perfect heart shape when viewed on mobile on AO3. ❤️)

Worst: At the Top of a Tower, With You - this is also a quote and it fits the fic perfectly, but it is a bit of a mouthful and it has a comma in the middle of it, which, while I love commas, feels a bit off-putting in terms of a title - also, it's always kind of bothered me that it's a Baz WS quote used for a CO-era Lucy POV

Best/worst summary?

Again, I don't really dislike any of my summaries.

Best:

To the Manor Borne: The gang decides to spend Christmas together at Pitch Manor. Romance, hijinks, and holiday cheer ensue.

Anything that lets me use the word hijinks is always good! - it's short and sweet - it does a fair job of setting up the premise for the fic and giving highlights, without giving anything away

Worst: A Man of Letters

I'm not going to include this one because it's so long, I had to cut down the version I posted on tumblr to fit in the AO3 field, which is really why I rank it below my others - it effectively sets up the world of Simon and Baz in Regency England prior to where the story starts, but it is prohibitively long - and it's set up, not summary, so it also loses points for not doing what it purports to do - I could have said exactly what this fic was in one sentence: "Simon and Baz meet at several Regency-appropriate venues over the course of a London season and reflect on their acquaintance in letters", but instead I did the full book jacket version because it was more interesting to me.

Best/Worst First Line?

Oh, this is interesting. I can honestly say that I have no idea where this will go. Going to pull up my docs and find out! Okay, since I only have four fics to consider, and I'm feeling split, I'm going to do two for each. I feel good about my words, but I will say that half of my first lines actually provide information, and the other half are incomplete thoughts. Those were stylistic decisions I made, but when taken alone, it does somewhat limit the effectivness of a sentence when it can't stand without the rest of the paragraph. Perhaps that decision will lure readers in for more?

Best:

In the end, we wind up at Pitch Manor. (To the Manor Borne)

I know that you won't be surprised when I tell you that I do not like writing letters. (A Man of Letters)

Kind of interesting that these both contain key words from the titles 🤔

Worst:

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to do this. (Use Your Words)

I love how the title seems to be answering Baz's question when the two are put together like this 😂

Strange that it should end here, where it all started. (At the Top of a Tower, With You)

The title also seems to complete the first line in this one, too. I'm learning about my writing as this goes on, so that's cool!

Best/Worst Last Line?

Hmm. Okay, again, no idea. Also, a little leery of including last lines for anyone who hasn't read the fics they're from yet. (Tho I guess it's unlikely those people would be reading this😆) But let's see what we've got.

Use Your Words and A Man of Letters have very similar final lines, and both are somewhat spoilery.

Best: The ending of A Man of Letters felt risky to me, in the way that it is formatted and changes tone from the rest of the story. It was something that happened as I wrote it and I loved it. I had no idea if readers would like it, if they would feel like it worked as an ending, but I felt strongly enough about it to let the entire fic hinge on that and I think it really paid off. So, without giving you the actual last line, which is only one word, I'm going to say that one is my best ending.

Worst:

To the Manor Borne: "Carry on, Simon."

It's not bad, it's just not mine.

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, fewer than you thought, or about what you predicted?

I did not set out to write any fics in 2020. I was supposed to be taking a break from writing. I've been an aspiring novelist for half my life now, and have been going through major ups and downs with my writing. I decided I needed to re-evaluate and figure out if writing was something that was even going to be able to make me happy anymore. The answer is: YES! Just…not original fiction. At the moment. I'm happiest when I can write for the sake of writing and not have to DO something with that writing. Which is why discovering fan fiction was AMAZING!!!! 🥰🥰🥰

To actually answer the question, yes, I wrote more than I thought I would. I also wrote exactly as much as I thought I would, simply because these were all things I signed up for (with the exception of my Countdown fic, but I committed to it as if it were something that required a sign up).

I have a lot more ideas for 2021, but I don't know how many of them will come to fruition. I'm not putting pressure on myself to have to do anything beyond what I sign up for again, because it did work out so well for me starting off.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

I mean, the pairing and the fandom were in no way a surprise. 😆 They're my only ones, so those were both a given. The genre is also not surprising.

What's your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest?

A Man of Letters, without any hesitation. I adore it so much. It's the kind of fic I know I will unabashedly sit down to read over and over, even if I'm the one who wrote it. I had one reader to please and it was ME. By far, my most self-indulgent fic.

Okay, NOW your most popular story?

That depends on the metric.

To the Manor Borne leads in Comments (107), Kudos (153), and Hits (1992), and Use Your Words leads in Bookmarks (26).

But since To the Manor Borne is top in 3 out of 4 metrics, I'll say that one.

Story most upderappreciated by the universe?

I mean, the least popular by a wide margin is At the Top of a Tower, With You, but I don't know if I'd call it underappreciated. It's short, it's angsty, it's got a very unusual style, it's Lucy POV, it's the first fic I wrote and posted. I didn't really go into it with high performance expectations. I'm proud of it, I just didn't expect it to be popular. It would be nice if more people read it, but I'm not broken up over it.

Story that could have been better?

I'm not even going to touch this one. Everything can always be improved upon, but if I go down that route, nothing will ever be done. This is one of the things I have come to appreciate about traditional art versus digital. With traditional, there is only so much you can do before something is permanent and you have to live with it. It's an exercise in letting go and acceptance. Digital is flashier and more flexible, but I could (and have) spend months on a single piece and never feel satisfied, never stop tweaking. I think that's also the reason I started to hate my novels.

Sexiest story?

Based purely on overall vibes, I find the understated tension of the Regency the most appealing, so I'm going to say A Man of Letters. I didn't actually stray into sex territory in any of my fics (though Simon and Baz have had sex by the time To the Manor Borne starts, and refer to it, and probably do it "offscreen"), but A Man of Letters is the one that feels sexiest to me. Lots of thirsting!Baz and feral!Simon and sensual hand touching (how risqué!) - and YEARNING. That, to me, is the sexiest vibe of all. So. Much. Yearning.

Saddest story?

At the Top of a Tower, With You - for this one, I tagged "angst without plot" and I stand by that. It's Lucy losing her connection to Simon at the end of CO and trying to find a way to reconcile herself to leaving him alone again. I gave it as much of a hopeful bent as I could, with the refrain of Baz's spoken "love" to cling to, but it's very sad.

Most fun?

To the Manor Borne - All of my fics have their fair share of angst, but this one also has some good, silly, holiday fluff thrown in. Since I wrote it for the Countdown, each chapter was based on a different prompt, which led to this one going in all sorts of directions no single fic probably ever should. Plus, it has the most Shepard, and Shepard always makes things more fun.

Story with the single sweetest moment?

Oh my god. I don't know. No, never mind. I do. It's To the Manor Borne, but it's split between the two gift giving scenes, the Constellations and Secret Santa/Gift Giving prompts. These were private moments between Simon and Baz, sharing themselves with each other, being vulnerable, and communicating. It's the gifts they give each other, yes, but it's more so the reasons they chose those gifts, and how they show part of themselves and share their love for each other, through those gifts, that had me in tears writing those two scenes. I'm super proud of them.

Hardest story to write?

Use Your Words - it was written for an exchange and that made it really hard to write it knowing there was this pressure of making my gift-ee happy with the fic. I'm proud of it, and they really liked it, but the anxiety was too much for me.

Easiest/most fun story to write?

A Man of Letters - if there is a fic better suited to me as a writer, I haven't met it. I started writing after reading Pride and Prejudice in high school, so I started out writing Regency and I spent years and years and years of my life obsessed. When I transferred into college, an administrator I had never met before heard my name during orientation and said, "Oh, you're the Austen scholar." (It is a small, private college, and I was a transfer, so the pool of students was even smaller. But still. Many years later, I'm clearly not over it.) I also did my senior thesis on an epistolary novel (Frances Burney’s Evelina), and my English Lit emphasis was for that time period. So, I felt like I had been preparing for this fic my entire adult life. 😂

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

I don't think so. I tend to let my writing be dictated by the characters, so I'm always following their lead. Sometimes they'll do or say something that surprises me and takes me down a route I didn't necessarily foresee, but I don't think there was ever a point where one of them did something that made me rethink who they are as a character.

Most overdue story?

I will say A Man of Letters, since that one felt like a culmination of my seventeen-year-old self's wildest writing dreams. But I should probably say the Scooby Doo AU I still haven't managed to finish, because that one has been a WIP since I joined the fandom. Oops. (I'm hoping when I look over this in a year, I can feel smug that it's finally done.)

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

Writing at all was a risk for me! And writing fan fic for the very first time! Writing an entire fic told only through letters. And then ending it in a completely different style from the rest of the fic. Doing a multi-chaptered fic for the Countdown, using a different prompt for each chapter, and publishing a chapter every single day for thirty days (with the exception of two days that had art). Signing up for fandom events in the first place!

What I learned from taking risks in my writing is the same thing I learned when I took risks in my art this year. I have a much better appreciation for what I've done when I push myself, I feel better about the end product, and I like it longer. I think it's really good for me to challenge myself creatively.

This year's theme and the story that demonstrates it most?

Oh boy. Um. Therapy! Both Use Your Words and To the Manor Borne had their big HEA moments built around sending Simon and Baz to therapy. I don't think that's likely to change for future fics, either. I feel like therapy as the theme for 2020 seems very fitting. (Also, I think I keep sending the boys to therapy because I'm trying to get myself there…)

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Just to write what I want to write, have fun, not put any pressure on myself, and to take risks in my writing and my art because it will help me to grow.

#fan fic year in review #my fic #at the top of a tower with you #use your words #a man of letters #to the manor borne

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