#by asking readers to invest in and give feedback on a story that may never be done

[msviolacea]

I saw a take that said readers who won't read WIPs are unfairly seeking instant gratification and I swear to god I have never felt more like "that's it, I have aged out of fandom, these are not my people anymore."

#back in MY day #it was the authors posting WIPs who were seeking unfair instant gratification #by asking readers to invest in and give feedback on a story that may never be done #to be fair NEITHER is correct #but for fuck's sake #if you think someone going #nah i'd rather spend my time reading something i know will give me a full story #is somehow overly entitled #i honestly have no idea how your brain works

[not-poignant]

random genuine question. how do you write a book? I've written multiple fanfics successfully and want to be a full time author nothing too crazy but just enough to make a good living. But I'm finding myself stuck when it comes to executing my original ideas. I plan them out well but when it comes to the acts/chapters and actually writing I can't seem to pull the trigger. I understand it takes time and I may just be overthinking but still I'm worried I won't be able to execute.

Hi anon,

You are probably better off asking someone who writes books for a living, because I definitely don't, and when I did publish two novels, they have never done as well as my serials (and writing a serial is very different - for me at least - to writing a book). Like, they did moderately well, but I consider myself a professional serial writer and not a novelist, and those two things are 100% not the same thing. (Which is also maybe where you're struggling.

Writing fanfics successfully can often have zero bearing on whether you can (or want to) write a novel. Writing one is not writing the other! The processes are totally different, unless you were just writing novels and splitting them up into serial chapters and then, well, you wouldn't be here asking this question sdalkfjad)

There are some great novel-writing books out there, and many can be requested through libraries, and many of their authors have blogs or similar where they teach many of their techniques online. There are so many different ways of structuring a novel (and it can change depending on your genre, and I don't know what your genre is either!) I can't recommend any personally, because I don't read them, because I don't really write novels.

When it comes to actually sitting down and actually writing anything of length though, it's sometimes down to asking yourself a few things:

What feelings are happening in you that hold you back? Are you afraid it won't be good? (In which case there's no way but through, anon, you have to write some bad writing in order to get to the good writing, it's a mandatory part of the practice - a garden needs shit/manure in order to grow, lol).

Are you bored because you planned it all out? (In which case you may need to look into writing novels without plotting them first).

Are you more excited for future chapters instead of present chapters? (Write out of order! And make the present chapters shorter).

Are you more interested in fanfiction's regular feedback from readers? (In which case consider creating a reader group for your original writing, or finding a really good beta who can give you that feedback). (I can't get dopamine from writing novels, so I don't write them, I just find the process boring in a way that's pretty intolerable to me).

Is the novel too huge of a road into meeting your characters and setting/s in prose? (Consider writing small oneshots for your characters and world first. Consider writing side characters in the world in a 2-3k fic. Treat it like responding to a fanfiction challenge. It can often make access to the world a little easier).

Is something about the story actually broken? Do you need to go back to the drawing board re: the strengths of the characters?

Learn how to fall in love with your characters the way you've fallen in love with fanfic characters. If they're not strong enough to earn that 'love'/'obsession' - make them stronger. (Although, frankly, sometimes you can only learn that love by writing them. Think of it this way: When you start writing fanfiction, you've already invested hours of time into learning the characters and their depth. You need to invest at least the same amount into your own characters and their stories before you might stumble across that same love).

Outside of that you can apply any number of techniques to novel writing, but ultimately, a lot of it is sitting down and just writing (sometimes pretty terribly) and learning how to overcome writer's block and understanding why it's happening for you.

For me, I learned that the cons of writing novels just didn't outweigh the pros. The lack of dopamine feedback re: readers doesn't play well with my unmedicated ADHD brain, which means writing to no feedback at all tends to leave me extremely unmotivated. And fitting the novel formula re: story lengths ultimately just didn't work with me either, most of my long stories naturally hit or exceed the 250k mark, which is fine for serials, but not fine for most novels outside of epic fantasy or hard science fiction.

So I would also recommend sitting down and asking yourself what did fanfiction give you that made you able to write it? And what do you need novel writing to give you, to make you able to write it? Likewise, ask yourself - do you want to write original novels? Or original serials? There's a good market for both now, and novels =/= serials. Like, they are naturally written in different ways!

Do you think you would struggle to write an original serial the same way that you're struggling with novels? All of these things are important to ask yourself.

But ultimately, just... I hate to say it, but sometimes you have to force yourself through the struggle, and write stuff while groaning because you know it's bad, to get to the other side. It's like learning any new skill - and fanfiction writing does not naturally lend itself to writing novels with everyone! You are learning a brand new skill!! Just because I know how to draw with pencils doesn't mean I know how to paint with watercolours, and I may be even more intimidated to learn watercolours because I know now how long it took to get the hang of fanfiction. Sometimes you just have to actually sit yourself down and be like 'okay I have to get real good at being real bad at something for a little while, even if I hate it.'

Chances are it won't be as bad as you think anyway, and then even if it is, well that's a normal part of writing a novel. That's why the first draft is the first draft, and not the final product. :)

#asks and answers #pia on writing #dodgy advice #how to write a novel #i will flat out say as well that novels are just *harder to write* than fanfiction #because you didn't have someone else doing the hard work for you #of establishing the characters and the world #you have to do that now #and it feels harder and more daunting because it IS HARDER and more daunting #like fanfic can be hard work #especially if you're writing AUs in original worlds #but for the most part #someone else did thousands of hours of labour #to give you a world as a sandbox to play in #now you have to do a version of that labour for yourself #and i'm gonna be honest anon #sometimes it is a lot less fun in the beginning #i found writing in a more 'fanfiction style' helped me #but ultimately i decided against being a full-time novelist #and chose to be a full-time serial author #so i'm probably not the person whose advice you need the most sdalfkjs

[mysticalsashaxoxo]

Do you still plan to finish this? Why don't you collaborate or have this story adopted by someone then you can just bounce your idea on how this should end and they can give you feedbacks on how they will write it. Such a shame if this great story doesn't get an ending. You've already done a lot of chapters just to let it go unfinished.

Hi I appreciate you being so invested on my story enough to leave me anonymous messages every now and then. 😊

I never said that I wouldn’t write, It’s just that I can’t—atleast not this time. When I write, I have to fully immerse myself into it. Most of my readers know this but I hate doing things half-baked.

Also, I do not intend to have my story adopted. Each one of my creation is dear to me, and it kind of hurts for you to suggest that.

And if I would ask other writers on how they would end my story, then that wouldn’t be my ending now is it?

I already said this before, I have an outline of the story, which means it already has an ending. Just unwritten—yet.

I hope you are doing well wherever you are, we have other talented (more so than me) writers in the fandom, you may fancy reading some of their works while you wait for mine.

[abeautifulblog]

talkin’ bout beta readers

@master-sass-blast​ writes:

okay but maybe to ask for the class: what if i don't find a beta reader because i feel like i am taking advantage of them and their work, because i can't/don't know how to compensate them properly and i don't want them to feel like i'm just using them and that i'm not grateful etc

I feel you, friend. ✌ I too am conscious of the fact that just because I'm super-invested in my fic, that doesn't mean everyone else will be too—but there will be some!

Beta readers aren't being “compensated” for editing your fic, but you're not being compensated for writing it either (and nor are the fanartists or the podficcers that follow). This is a labor of love for everyone involved, and you have to trust that beta readers are doing it because they want to.

And I think it's not hard to tell whether or not someone really wants to be beta'ing for you—when they're excited to talk about your fic and the source material for hours on end without getting tired or bored, when they can't get enough of discussing the minutiae of character motivations, or world-building ramifications, or spinning out headcanons. Those are the people I'm comfortable asking a lot from, in terms of beta-reading duties, because we're in this hyperfixation together.

But I am also quick to let people ghost me—when conversation drops off; when they start taking longer to respond to messages; when their comments and responses become more perfunctory, then I stop asking, and start shopping around for new betas.

(Which is why I am still so fucking baffled by the loss of Sasha 1 halfway through For the Asking—because we had been 1000% hyperfixating together, and then they disappeared overnight and I never heard from them again, leaving me genuinely wondering if they died.)

Anyway, if someone doesn't want to beta-read for me, then I don't want to keep them there. (1) Because I don't want to impose on anyone, but also (2) if they're not invested in your fic, then they're not going to be reading/thinking deeply enough to give you much good feedback.

And people's fandom involvement changes, their availability and free time waxes and wanes—even someone who was an amazing beta in the past may drop off your radar. Sasha 2 was the unsung hero behind the second half of For the Asking, but she's since moved on to Legend of Zelda fandom—I don't think she could hyperfixate on witcher shit now even if she tried. It's why she came back for a one-day victory lap to help me with “That Uncertain Season,” but she's not a beta for Song of Selfish Hearts. (Likewise, the beta readers from my ddads fic didn't follow me to Witcher fandom.)

~~

It is true that when you're first starting out, you may have to rely on betas who aren't super-invested in your story—getting a non-fandom friend to give it a quick read for typos and overall coherency, or asking around in a fandom discord to see if any strangers are willing to help. But I've found that the best place to find potential beta readers is in the comments section of your fic—by engaging with the people who are leaving keen, insightful feedback, who clearly enjoy thinking about your story. I've picked up several beta-readers that way, and I have used that trick to get myself invited to beta-read for fics I was in love with.

(“I am going to friend-seduce this author so hard,” I say to myself, evilly, as I sit down to write a comment that will knock their socks off.)

And in case you were wondering what beta-readers are getting out of the bargain:

I love getting analytical about narrative and storytelling. Bam. I'm a fuckin' nerd for it, that's my hobby right there. My fics, other people's fics, the canon, I will dissect the shit out of all of it. Trust me when I say that I am enjoying getting into the nuts and bolts of your story.

I get to read it before it's available to the public. I am still gleeful beyond belief that I got to read the entirety of In the Company of a Glacier (all 265k words of it) in one sitting, since even at coffee_mage's relatively brisk release schedule, the ending is still probably about a year out. (That said: do not be one of those people who volunteers to beta-read but then just fucks off after getting your sneak peek. That is rude, and you won't be invited back.)

I get to influence the development of the story. You ever read a fic that was so good, but fell JUST SHORT of what you wanted it to be? Missing a scene you wanted to see? Just didn't quite deliver the payoff you were hoping for, leaving you with a niggling sense of dissatisfaction? Good news! If you're a beta-reader, you can lean on the author to give you the content you crave. Because often it's just a matter of their vision not quite making it onto the page, or them not being certain that readers will want [whatever], and they will be happy to provide it if you assure them that no, no, we DEFINITELY want it.

Anyway, best of luck finding betas! It’s like making friends, but even easier I think, because you basically just go “hey fellow nerd, would you like to SUPER NERD OUT WITH ME?”

(And yes, if you see me being long and talky in your comments, I am absolutely trying to seduce you.)

#writeblr #beta reading #writing a thing

[suchalonelysunflower]

A Dance Of Thorns (c.h)

Where The Roses Bloom - Chapter 4

Pairing: Stable Lad! Calum Hood x Princess! Reader

Summary: Welcome to the masquerade to celebrate Your Royal Highness engagement. How many surprises can one night hold?

Warnings: Angst, Drama and Smut. Language, mentions of alcohol and abuse. Some grammatical mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry!)

Word Count: 12.3 k

Author’s note: by far the longest chapter I’ve written but anything for the drama ✨ I would love to hear your thoughts on this 🥰 Remember that Reblogs, Feedback, Comments and Likes are very important! You have no idea how much they help me 💕 Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻✨

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

Series Materialist || prologue || chapter one || chapter two || chapter three || chapter five || chapter six || chapter seven || epilogue

A month has gone by since the first time you saw King Luke Hemmings and you found out that you are supposed to marry him in less than a few weeks. And ever since that moment, you have invested every little free time you have into trying to stop that from happening.

You spent your afternoons sitting down at the library, reading book after book that might contain some kind of information to let you escape that awful deal. But every book you read said the same thing “A King’s promise may never be broken by law”

Still, that didn’t stop you.

Calum was also helping in every way he could. In the afternoons on his free days, he would go to the public library in town, searching for anything that could help your situation. He would spend hours reading about foreign laws that could give you at least some kind of leverage. He would ask around, hoping some kind of gossip might help you win something against your father, but until now all your tries gave little to no satisfaction.

At night, Calum would climb the castle’s walls to your window. It was the only way you could spend some time together and share hushed conversations since your father forbade you to go out without a proper companion.

He would lay with you in your bed, curled up together as he told you stories about faraway lands his father once told him, all in attempts to distract your mind from the reality you were facing every time the sun came out. He would kiss you goodnight as you fell asleep in his arms, letting the beat of his heart work as the symphony of your dreams. You would whisper “I love you’s” in the darkest of the room, letting them get lost in the stars as they shined down on you.

Every night you would go to sleep with Calum around your arms, but when the sun came up all traces of him disappeared with the moon. Well, everything but the white rose he left on your dresser along with the promise of keep fighting for you, no matter how long it took.

And with the sun it came the charade. You acted as the most obedient daughter you could ever think of. You attended your lessons, you didn’t speak out of place and obliged to every activity that surrounded the wedding, whether it was about flowers, food, decorations… things you couldn’t care less about since you were determined no to marry the King.

King Luke was not a bad person, on the contrary, he was one of the few people you could have a conversation with besides Sir Michael. Many afternoons they would accompany you in the library, never commenting about the books you chose to read as they sat in silence one in front of the other, immersed in their reading or their hushed conversations.

You learned to find a friend in Luke, someone that could have at least the same amount of trust you once had with your brother. He would make you laugh and he’d tell you everything you wanted to know about him, it was so easy and somewhat comforting to know that you were not as alone as you felt. But that did not mean that he had your full trust.

After Ashton took your father’s side in this dilemma, leaving you alone in a marriage you wanted no part of, you lost every ounce of trust you once held in your heart. And even though Ashton did try to make it better, to apologize for the way he treated you; you did not let him go near you. Every time you found yourself alone with him, you ignored his every move, and if you were in the company of others you didn’t even dignify him with a glance. You knew you might be a little harsh on him, and all of this hurt you as well, more than you would care to admit. But if your father learned about you and Calum… who else could’ve told him if not your brother?

Out of all the people who could betray you, you never expected Ashton to be one of them and you let him know that, no matter how much you needed your brother with you. If he declared your death with this marriage before you were sent away, then he’d be dead to you as well.

You were not going to give up, not even with the ceremony breathing on the back of your neck. There must be a way where you could break this engagement, something that could give you your freedom again.

The ceremony was scheduled one day before your twenty-first birthday, one day before you gained your independence as a royal as the law said it, one day before you could refuse the King’s requests with total liberty. Your father had planned this well, you must admit at least that. But if there was a way where you could delay the wedding… somehow make it past your birthday without getting married, then you would be able to get away.

But that task was more difficult than you have anticipated since your father was in charge of your schedule, everything was going smoothly and at perfect timing. There was nothing that you could do to delay the event.

“I need you to hold your breath for me, Your Highness”

For example right now, as the seamstresses adjusted the corset of your white dress to your body, your mind was reciting the laws again, trying to find some plothole that could be beneficial for you.

The grip you had in the chair tightened as they tied the corset on your back, helping you get into the skirt afterward. You didn’t say a word as the seamstresses chattered among them. You ignored the comments regarding your future marriage, or how beautiful your children will look if they look just like the King, or how lucky you were to be marrying into a rich kingdom.

“You will look beautiful on your wedding day, Your Highness,” The oldest lady said with a dreamy sigh “Your lover will not know what hit him”

“But my love will not be the one waiting at the end of the altar” You wanted to say, to scream at them for keeping up with the lie. You didn’t love Luke, you could never love him the way you love Calum. But Calum was not your fiance, he was just a secret.

You kept the tears at bay as you let them work over your dress, not daring to breathe too loud so you wouldn’t call their attention. They didn’t know that you were dying in the middle of a sea of white fabric and soft silk.

“There,” The young lady exclaimed as she finished the last touch of your veil, placing it carefully on your head “Oh, Your Highness. You look like a dream”

A dream trapped in a nightmare indeed.

You observed your reflection in the nearest window. You didn’t look like a child anymore; no, in front of you was the reflection of a woman, of a bride about to be sent to the slaughter of her liberty. A clockwork tragedy waiting to happen.

The white contrasted with your skin and hair, making you glow with the candlelight. It made you look more mature, more like a royal than you ever felt before. It was a beautiful work, but none of this ever felt right.

“You look just like your mother” The words of the older lady took your breath away. The memory of your mother’s face was already fading in your mind, you remember she was beautiful, but you couldn’t make the color of her eyes or the sound of her voice anymore.

“She would be so proud of you, Your Highness”

Would she? Would she have wanted this for you? If she were here, would she care or would she take your father’s side? Oh, what would you give to listen to one last piece of advice from her. To feel her embrace one more time, for her to tell you that everything would be okay.

You haven’t really felt the absence of your mother hit you as hard as of now because maybe with your mother here you wouldn’t feel so scared.

“Oh, don’t cry, princess” You didn’t even notice the tears running down your face until the lady pointed out “This is a happy occasion! There needn’t be any tears”

Only if she knew…

You accepted the silk handkerchief and dried your tears without saying anything, letting them help you out of your wedding gown as you tried on another one.

This was a black dress with roses embroidered along with the skirt and neckline. It was lighter than the wedding dress but the fabric was more delicate. The somber aspect of the dress, along with its sophistication, made you think of it as a better choice for your wedding day.

“Your father was very kind to host a party to celebrate your engagement, Your Highness. This is a perfect dress for the occasion”

You knew by now that none of your father’s actions could be considered kind. He organized this masquerade ball for his own benefit.

The King of RoseWood invited representatives of all the neighboring kingdoms and alliances that Ashton helped build, to the castle for a magical night of dancing and fun. But you knew he just wanted to parade the match you and Luke made in front of the world.

He wanted to show power, the kind of which someone would look at him and say “This is a man that demands respect” When in reality all he did was abuse his power and intimidate the ones closest to him.

The masquerade served as a punishment rather than a delight. He would put you under the spotlight and expect you to smile while he knows you’re dying on the inside. He will parade you around the room with the story of a good and lovable daughter, the little Princess that’s living the dream of a magical life in the arms of the man you love all thanks to the father whom she loved with all her heart.

He knew that this was all bullshit, and he rejoiced in the fact that you hated every single minute of it.

“The dress is absolutely stunning, Your Highness” Continued the older lady “What a lovely idea you had when deciding to use one of your mother’s old gowns and make it new again”

You gave her a small smile. It was a lovely idea, but not for the reasons they might think. This dress represented much more than just your mother and your wish of having her close in a moment like this. It represented going against your father in ways that only he could understand; it represented your heritage, how you didn’t forget who truly loved you and taught you how to be strong; it represented the image of the rebellion you set upon yourself, a sign that screamed “I will not stop even if you try”

It represented you.

“There is only one detail missing…” The young lady walked over to the dresser only to grab something delicate in her hands before presenting it to you: The mask.

Soft and made out of silk and with golden broderies across the eyes, the mask hid half of your face perfectly. If not for the tiara you must wear on your head, nobody would’ve been able to recognize who you were.

How ironic was it that in the night where you should be the center of attention, you wanted nothing more than to disappear.

*

The night was clear, all the stars and constellations were visible from where you were standing in front of your window. Your hands were touching the soft stones of the window frame as you tried to count your breaths.

You couldn’t help but look for him in the gardens, hoping you could see him waiting for you under your window, asking you to come to the tree where your meetings were held before everything went wrong. It’s only been a couple of days but you missed him, and with the way, he consumes all your thoughts it was almost impossible not to.

But he was not coming tonight, your father made sure that the help was not invited to the party since it was such an important event to make it “common”, so your meeting will have to wait until tomorrow.

Still, you imagined how it would be like if he were to attend the ball. You dreamt about his smile, how his eyes would shine once he spotted you standing there at the top of the stairs as he waited for you at the end of it. You wondered if he would like the dress and you wished you could show it to him.

You sighed as you imagined his hand taking yours, guiding you to the middle of the ballroom, and starting dancing with you as if nobody were watching. It’s been so long since your last dance with him and you couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of his clumsy feet stepping over yours in an attempt to teach you how to dance for your first ball.

Calum was always like that, caring and selfless until he couldn’t give anymore. That is one of the many things why you loved him, why you would never stop loving him.

But now you were forced to pretend to love someone else in front of strangers and people who didn’t care about you enough to notice how much you were hurting. The glamour of the night might hide it, but you know that there was only one person who you would much rather spend the night with; the only person who would not be there tonight.

“Y/N?” A voice called from outside your room, waking up from your dreams as you heard them knocking softly on the door “Are you ready to go?”

You pushed yourself from the window with a deep sigh, grabbing the mask that was laying on top of the bed before walking towards the door and opening it with an emotionless expression.

There, Ashton was waiting for you, pacing the hall until he heard the wooden door open. His whole body froze as his lips parted for a second when he took your appearance.

“You-” He said, choking up a little bit as he shook his head for a moment, thinking he might’ve seen a ghost “You look just like her…”

You were not expecting that comment. You knew the dress would affect your father, but you didn’t imagine it would have that kind of effect on Ashton.

But now, as he stood in front of you with wide, watering eyes and the faintest hint of a smile, you realized that you might not be the only one who misses your mother.

Ashton knew her longer, he used to spend every single moment with her along with you when you were nothing more than a child. When she died, you didn’t quite grasp the concept of death, but Ashton was the one who took it way harder. But, as a prince, he was not allowed to break down as any other normal kid would do when they lose a parent who was dear to them. No, he had to maintain his image and at the same time took it upon himself to raise you as your mother would.

He was the only loving family you’ve ever known. But he was also the only person who had ever broken your heart.

You looked at him with a sense of pity and understanding.

“I wanted to feel her with me tonight” You told him, these being the first words you exchanged with Ashton in a long time.

You noticed this also affected him. His eyebrows raised slightly and he took one step towards you, still bargaining with your feelings towards him.

Ashton took your hand in his, covering it completely as he softly spoke.

“You are her spitting image, Y/N/N. She has always been with you and lived through you. Everything you do reminds me of her and I promise you she would be proud of the beautiful, brave woman you’ve become”

His words struck you more than they probably should have. Ashton was never the one who spoke freely about your mother, not since you stopped needing him as much. He always kept that part to himself unless you asked.

He thought so highly of your mother and now he was comparing her to you. For some reason, this served as no comfort, but rather it angered you. Not because you didn’t think your mother was a horrible person, but because you thought that maybe if they - your father and Ashton - loved you as much as they loved her, you wouldn’t have to be in this position.

“The only difference is that mother’s family did not sell her for marriage,” You said bitterly, pulling your hand from Ashton’s grip as you saw hurt flash through his eyes.

“Y/N-“

“She loved our father, Ashton” You cried “For some reason she loved him and she married for love. Why can’t you let me do the same? Why can’t you help me and let me be happy? Am I to be trapped forever in a loveless marriage just because of the greed of this kingdom's leaders? I don’t even know what alliances we are keeping! In what world is it fair that I have to sacrifice my spirit just to please your egos?”

“You know it’s not like that-“

“For you, maybe! But you know exactly what father is doing and why he is doing it and you are taking his side! Ashton, you are just as guilty as he is” Your truth was spilling out of your mouth with nothing but desperation.

You wanted your brother to know how you were feeling, how much you were willing to fight for your freedom. For weeks you’ve been holding these words out of pride and pettiness, but you cannot go a day longer without letting him know just how much this is affecting you.

“I can’t trust you, Ash, and I can’t pretend that we are going to be okay after all of this no matter what happens in the end. You broke my heart, and I don’t think you understand to what extent”

Ashton stood in front of you with his head low “You hate me”

“I’m disappointed” You admitted, knowing you will have a hard time trying to hate your brother.

“Y/N, I’m just trying to do what’s best for the kingdom. What’s best for you!” He excused “You will be safe in the Vail, you’ll be a Queen and I know King Luke will treat you right. You have to understand that this is hard for me, too. But I can’t be here to protect you-“

“Protect me?” You interrupted him “Protect me from what?” He stayed quiet “Ashton?”

“Your Highnesses?” A guard called from the end of the hall “The King awaits”

*

“Announcing Prince Ashton Irwin, Heir to the Throne of RoseWood, and Princess Y/N Irwin, Future Queen of the Vail”

Wilsburg’s voice ran across the ballroom accompanied with two stumps of his scepter, calling everyone’s attention as you and Ashton descended the staircase together, claiming your rightful titles as everyone’s heads turned around to see you.

You kept your head high with every step you gave. All eyes were on you but you were not able to recognize anyone as their faces were covered with masks of every form, color, texture, and shape.

When you reached the end of the staircase, you and Ashton walked together to the center of the room where your father was standing with a winning smile plastered on his face. You were never prone to violence, but the feeling of wanting to punch your father in the face and erase that smile grew every minute.

You stood in front of your father and his court and gave him a courtesy in sign of respect. Your father’s eyes met yours once you stood straight again, and you couldn’t deny the feeling of pride that overwhelmed you when you saw the pure disgust in them as he took a glance at what you were wearing, knowing that this time he couldn’t do anything about it.

“My children,” He said with fake tenderness as he opened his arms in welcome.

It was so easy for him to fool the people who surrounded him, making everyone believe he was a good, caring, and loving father. But you could see clearly through his mask, no matter how much he tried to hide it - this time literally as his masks covered most of his face - he will never look at you with an ounce of love.

“King Luke Hemmings from the Vail and his loyal advisor, Sir Michael Clifford from Chesthire” Wilsburg announced, saving you from your father’s stare as the attention shifted back to the staircase where Luke and Michael were.

They walked next to each other, his movements identical as they elegantly descended into the party. They were both wearing the shades of blue that represented their Kingdom, each of them with matching masks that made them look regal, undoubtedly showcasing their royal status and importance.

Luke spotted your little broken family in the middle of the room, smiling a little bit and nodding towards you as he and Michael approached you with ease while the guests made way for them.

“Your Majesty” Luke bowed to your father, but his attention did not linger on him as much because soon his eyes were on you.

You noticed how blue his eyes looked under the mask, his blond curls falling perfectly to his shoulders and making him look like an actual angel.

“Princess,” He said, bowing just enough to capture your hand in his and bringing it to his lips, softly kissing your knuckles.

“Your Majesty,” You greeted him with courtesy, thankful that at least you’ll have some friendly faces in the crowd. “Sir Clifford. I must say you look very elegant today,”

You caught a glimpse of blush under the young guard’s mask, his green eyes sparkled at the compliment. His outfit was not as elegant as Luke’s, but his hair was pushed back in a short ponytail at the ends of his neck making him look like a prince.

“One can only try, Your Highness” He answered with a dashing smile “But, surely, no beauty compares to you, Princess. People should envy your exterior as well as your kind heart. My King is a lucky man” He said, looking back at Luke who was already smiling at him.

King Richard cleared his throat loudly, making the three of you turn your attention to him. His jaw was tight as he showed a smile to the other monarch.

“Now that the guest of honor has arrived,” Your father said with a loud, authority tone “Let the festivity begin!”

The small orchestra that worked under your father’s orders started to play lovely symphonies the minute those words came out of their King’s mouth. The other guests soon resumed their previous chatter and quickly got lost in the celebratory atmosphere, some grabbing drinks while others started dancing along with the soft melodies.

You stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, fidgeting with your fingers as you watched how your father called Ashton’s attention and took him aside for a talk. Your eyes roamed across the room, feeling out of place as you caught glimpses of people passing by, not knowing anyone as they proceeded to ignore you.

You thought about how this will be your life from now on. How you will end up alone in some party you don’t feel comfortable in just to please the aesthetics of how a royal should be. People will not be interested in you, only your title, and they will judge you, envy you, hate you, and take advantage of you for it. You will not be Y/N anymore, you won’t have the chance to. You will be a Queen and that’s all people will want to know as you will be pushed away into someone’s shadow.

“Not much of a social butterfly, I see” You heard Luke comment next to you, leaning over to your side so he could whisper in your ear.

You gave him a small smile, “I was never really fond of parties,” You admitted quietly “Which is ironic, given that I always wanted to attend these kinds of gathering when I was a child”

Luke laughed softly, “I believe that is because you don’t know how to properly have fun at a party” He chuckled once he saw your confused gaze “Michael, have you seen Lady Thompson today?”

Michael, who was standing in front of you, smiled as his gaze followed Luke’s “I cannot believe she came here after the scandal”

“The scandal?” You asked, trying to see whom they were talking about.

“Oh, yes. Haven’t you heard?” Luke asked casually “Her poodle caught a case of hair eating fleas, and once they left the poor dog bald, they went for the main of hair Lady Thompson used to brag about”

Yours parted your lips in shock, but Michael continued “Not only that, but I heard she’s telling everyone how her hair grew back in just a few hours by putting some kind of magical mud she found near the river end”

Finally, your gaze fell into the person they were discussing and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“That’s not Lady Thompson, her name is Lady Judith from the Mountains of Chaversty” Your eyes fell back on Luke and Michael, who were trying to suppress a laugh “You are mocking me…”

“Not at all, Princess,” Luke said with a chuckle “We are just teaching you how to have fun”

“When we were kids, we used to sneak into the palace’s parties and hide under tables watching people pass and creating narratives about their lives” Michael explained “We started with a simple sentence, and then we created the most outrageous stories from them. The one who could come up with the craziest storyline would win”

“And somehow, I always ended up losing,” Luke smiled as Michael shrugged.

“It’s not my fault that you lack creativity,”

You smiled fondly at their teasing banter. You were amazed at how titles were forgotten when they were just talking to one another, it seemed so simple to them to call each other by their name as if they were normal people. And seeing that, somehow, made you feel less alone.

They taught you how to play in between their anecdotes and inside jokes, but you didn’t feel left out as you remember Luke’s words about Michael and how much he means to him. It was their little thing, their little moment in time that they could share with none other than each other, and still were kind enough to share some of that with you.

You spend a few hours playing the game and laughing along with them as they found you a worthy opponent with how many crazy stories you could pull out of your mind in an instant. One of the rules was that you couldn’t tell real names nor real gossips about those people to keep their integrity and the innocence of the game, so all your thoughts and outraged comments were taken lightly with fun. You even won a couple of times.

From time to time, people came to congratulate you and Luke on your engagement. You were glad to know that they could never notice how uncomfortable you looked thanks to the mask, but you were one hundred percent sure that he and Michael noticed how your posture changed and how you tensed at the mention of the wedding. Luckily, they brushed it off and carried on like it was nothing.

Sometime later, Luke went to grab some drinks for you and him, leaving you alone with Michael who quickly started a conversation with you about sword fighting and training.

You were too immersed in the conversation that you didn’t notice a person standing behind you until they cleared their throat.

“Pardon me, Your Highness,” You heard someone say. The familiarity of that voice sent shivers down your body and made your throat dry the second you heard it.

You turned around in a fast movement that made the skirt of your dress appear like it was floating above the floor. Your breath got caught up in your chest as you were suddenly hyper-aware of every inhale and exhale your body made the moment your eyes met his.

There he was, hiding under a white mask that matched his white and gold suit that once belonged to his father. There he was, standing in front of you and hiding in plain sight as his brown eyes were set on yours, taking you in as he let out a sigh in amazement.

“Calum…” You wanted to call him by his name out loud, to jump into his arms as you let the tears that were gathering in your eyes fall free from the happiness you were feeling at that moment. The kind of happiness only he could bring with such ease; the kind of happiness that you longed to experience all your life as long as he was next to you.

But you couldn't say that, you couldn’t blow his cover like that. If they found out he sneaked into the party, they would surely put him in the dungeon for god knows how long. He took a lot of risks coming here, and one word from you might throw that all away.

Instead, Calum noticed your hesitant shock, so he smiled softly as he said.

“Will you give me the greatest honor and pleasure of sharing one dance with me, Your Highness?”

You wanted to answer immediately, but according to the protocols a woman always needs their partner's permission to dance with a stranger. But Luke was not your real partner and Calum was not a stranger. You could feel your heart wanting to jump out of your chest from how strongly it was beating, but you couldn't identify if it was beating out of excitement or fear.

You looked over to Michael who was already staring at you with a curious gaze. He could easily see the unsaid pleading inside your eyes as you fought with the need to take this stranger’s hands in yours. The green-eyed man looked over between the two of you and was able to connect the dots in an instant.

Then, he simply smiled understandingly as he said “Just another secret between us, Princess” Looking at you like the way he did the morning you eavesdropped on your father’s conversation with Luke.

You let out a breath of relief as you nodded, silently thanking him as you watched him walk away just a little bit to give you and Calum enough privacy.

When you turned back to Calum, he looked as relieved as you felt, kindly offering his hand to you.

“May I take this dance, my rose?”

“You may”

Calum took your hand in his, kissing your knuckles as he softly guided you to the middle of the dance floor where several other couples were waiting for the next piece to start.

He placed a hand to your waist, stocking his fingers slowly over the fabric and bringing you closer to him as he held your hand with his other one. You blushed as you placed your free hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly to encourage him.

You both understood how recklessly dangerous this was; to be dancing in front of everyone as your fiance stood somewhere in the room, probably wondering where you were, and with your father and brother at such a close distance. But neither of you cared when your eyes met again through the masks.

You didn’t care about the risks as long as you were holding each other like this; when you finally felt free inside the cage.

A sweet melody filled the air, but you were too focused on Calum to even listen. You only realized the dance has started when you felt his fingers grace your waist tightly as he spun you around with delicacy, taking the lead as you followed his steps with care.

Memories of your first dance together flooded your mind and you couldn’t help but smile. You were only children back then, now it seems like another life.

“You learned how to dance…” You said fondly in a hushed tone, a blush covering your cheeks as you heard him softly chuckle at your comment.

“I had to. I didn’t want to embarrass myself the next time we’d dance”

“You knew there would’ve been the next time back then?”

“I always hoped I’d get to dance with you again after that night” He admitted, his eyes never leaving yours “You are the only one who I’d like to dance with all my life”

His feet moved carefully around your dress, following the other couples as they spun and changed places with their partners placing their hands together between their two bodies. A classical dance made for lovers, for one must never leave their partner’s eyes as they spin and turn just to fall back into their arms again.

It was slow at first, building its tempo as more instruments were added to the melody, making it enchanting, haunting as they took over the room with an admirable strength that only a feeling of utter power could describe as beautiful. It was supposed to represent passion and how it can dominate you, slowly and then all at once before you even realize it was there.

“You look absolutely beautiful, my rose,” He said once his hand was placed to your lower back, pulling you closer to him as you let your hand wander just inches from the back of his neck. “You always knew how to put flowers to shame, but tonight you look just as radiant as the moon itself”

“Calum…”

“Shh,” He whispered, “Let me tell you my truth while I still can, my love. For if this is one of the last times I shall see you, let me relish on how beautiful you are. Let me tell you all the compliments in the world and see me fall short since no compliment could ever be enough to capture just how enchanting you are”

You tugged on the hand that was holding yours.

“Why do I feel like you’re saying goodbye?”

“I’m not” Calum answered quickly “That’s the last thing I’ll ever do. But seeing you tonight just reminded me that I don’t tell you how much you mean to me. And I promise you that when we get out of this situation, I promise that I’ll tell you every day of my life”

“When,” You thought “Not if, but when. It’s just a matter of time”

To know that Calum hasn’t given up on you, on your love, meant the world to you. Most of the time you felt like you were battling alone as if no one was listening. But he was right there with you, even if you couldn’t see him or be with him all the time. He still hasn’t given up on you.

You felt it right there; the love. He was risking everything for you, to see you and be with you in the night where you’re supposed to celebrate your engagement. He broke every rule for a moment with you, knowing that you would do the same for him.

The music kept going, the crescendo was at its peak. Calum grabbed you with both his hands on your waist and picked you up as he turned around, placing you back on the ground to your initial position of one of your hands intertwined while the other rested on his shoulder and your lower back.

You giggled like children as he put you down, pretending the world didn’t exist as you swayed to the music. Tonight, you were a young couple enjoying their first dance together and loving every minute of it. Nothing else mattered.

You didn’t feel the stares of the guests or Ashton’s careful gaze as he tried to decipher who you were dancing with. You didn’t hear the whispers or notice how Luke hid his smile in his drink as he handed the other to Michael who looked at you in complicity. You didn’t see where your father has run off to, but you didn’t care.

You were in love. You were dancing with the love of your life; letting him guide your steps carefully as the crescendo started to go down and his grip on you tightened, not wanting to let go of this moment.

“I love you” Calum whispered just loud enough for you to hear.

You smiled like the sun “You are risking a lot by saying that here”

He shook his head “And I’ll risk even more if I have to. I cannot go a day without telling you I love you, my rose. Even if they throw me in the dungeon, I’ll find my way to you”

“Don’t say things like that,” You warned him as the melody started to fade “I’ll be damned if I lose you, Calum. This was reckless enough from both of our parts”

“And yet, you’re still dancing with me” He smiled as his movements started to slow down “My love for you is as reckless as it is endless, Y/N, and if I have to risk myself a thousand times; if I have to die a thousand times to love you freely then so be it. All of that will be worth it as long as you say it back”

You stare at him with tears in your eyes as the song reaches its end.

“I love you”

Calum stopped completely, letting go of his grip on your back but still holding your hand on his.

“And just like that, everything is worth it,” He said, placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

You smiled at him, chuckling through the unshed tears as you pondered in disbelief at just how lucky you are to love him and be loved by him.

“I’ll see you soon,” He said with a bow of his head.

“Aren’t you going to stay?” You knew you sounded a little desperate, but he just got here and, even though it was a little selfish on your part, you wanted him here just a little bit longer if possible.

Calum smiled “Only with the promise of another dance, my rose”

You nodded gracefully as Calum bowed once again before you watched him disappear into the crowd.

Your smile was still evident in your face as you gathered yourself and started to back up into the crowd, maybe try to find Luke to keep appearances until Calum asks for another dance.

“What a promising young man. Isn’t he, Y/N?”

The blood in your veins froze when you heard your father’s voice from behind you. You stood still, hoping you misheard him or mistaken him for another person that was passing by.

“Say, do we know him by any chance?” King Richard said with a mocking interest that made you want to run away right in that instant to find Calum and ask him to hide somewhere.

Instead, you turned around, and as calmly as you could, you answered:

“I’m afraid not, father. He didn’t tell me his name before nor after our dance”

“Didn’t I tell you never to talk to strangers, little Princess?”

He stood in front of you with a wicked smirk, not really waiting for an answer as he puffed his chest, showcasing the Kingdom’s shiny emblem on his fancy attire.

Your father lived for the adoration and fear of his subjects; he relished in your fear towards him for many years now, watching with delight as you submit to him out of fear or hope for any kind of attention he could show you. He adored the power he had over you, on how easy it was just to mess with your life as you’d allowed him to. And now, as you looked into his eyes you could see the fun he was having watching you tremble under his gaze, fearing that he might’ve discovered you.

The King looked you up and down and smirked as he announced “I believe it’s time for a father and daughter dance!”

The people who were gathering around the two of you started clapping and cheering as your father looked at you with a pleased gaze. You watched as the couples who were getting ready for the next dance suddenly left and were now standing to the side, anxiously waiting for the Princess and the King to have a sentimental moment.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Ashton who was making his way to the center of the room, pushing people as he tried to get to you; on the opposite end of the room, Luke drifted his gaze between you and Michael with a hint of worry in his eyes. Calum was nowhere to be found as your eyes searched for him in the crowd and you couldn’t help but feel scared for him.

King Richard ran out of patience. He grabbed your hand in what seemed a delicate touch, but only you could feel how his nails dug in the skin of your hand, forcefully pulling you to the dancefloor.

You felt disgusted as his hand gripped your waist, snapping his fingers to the musicians with his other hand before gripping your wrist and holding it high.

When the music started, he moved you around the dancefloor in stiff circles; there was no delicacy, no softness in his touch as he dragged you at the rhythm of one of the sweetest melodies you’ve heard.

“That dress does not belong to you” Your father whispered in between a smile. A tone of warning lacing his every word.

You felt the buckle of your knees weakened your step, but you didn’t dare move your eyes from his.

Too long you’ve been under his domain, living in fear of his next move whenever you were left alone with him. The bruises healed but the scars remain as your memory recalled the moments where he would get so mad at you just for being there, how he hated you just for looking like her.

All the pain, self-doubt, hatred, and fear he put you through… all the times you let him win because you didn’t think it could ever become worse… it all came crashing down into a feeling of anger and resentment that only served to give you strength for your next words.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, father” You defied him with fake ignorance “This is my dress. My mother left it for me. Don’t you like it?”

King Richard locked his jaw, his eyes spitting fire as you held his stare without moving an inch as you danced through the room.

“I know what you’re doing, Y/N,” He said with a wicked smile “And you won’t win. You can’t”

He laughed maliciously as he saw the shocked look in your eyes.

“Did you really think I wasn’t going to find out what you were doing in the library this past few weeks?”

Your heart stopped at the statement, feeling weak as he got you figured it out. But how? How could he know unless someone told him? Someone who knew what you were looking for…

The color drained from your face as you stuttered “I-I don’t know what-”

“Don’t play stupid, you insolent child” His grip on your wrist tightened, hurting you in front of everyone without raising any suspicion “I have eyes everywhere, ears in every wall of this goddamned castle and you think you can outsmart me by hiding in the library and looking through the books of laws? But you still haven’t found what you’re looking for, correct?” He asked, smiling as he saw how you frowned at the truth “And I’ll make sure you never will. My plans will not be ruined by a weak little girl”

“Plans?” You asked suddenly, realizing that he overshared something he might’ve not supposed to say “What are you-?” You started, before everything became clear, remembering Ashton’s words from a few hours prior “The wedding, the alliance… That’s all just a trick, isn’t it? You need something from them, from Luke…”

You smiled to yourself as you saw your father speechless for the first time.

“You need me,” You stated as a matter of factly “And you know that I won’t ever help you voluntarily, that’s why you are forcing everyone to do this. You know I can stop you, you know there is a way to stop all of this and you’re afraid…”

His fingers dug into your skin with force, leaving red marks that will become bruises, but you didn’t even flinch.

“You don’t want to play games with me, child” King Richard said, all niceties dropped from his face “I am the King!”

“And I’m not scared of you!” You smiled with sufficiency “Look around, father. You want to play? Let's do it. Hurt me in front of all these people, let them see how their monarch loves his daughter. You cannot hurt me here”

A sense of pride came over you as you finally stood up for yourself to your father. You finally saw a flash of fear pass by his eyes as he scanned the room and saw all the eyes on him.

“I will stop you”

But then, the King smiled like the devil.

“I’d like to see you try. Stop the music!” He suddenly yelled, making all the guests flinch at the sound of his voice.

Your movements came to a stop, but the grip he had on your hand just became tighter and tighter, crushing your bones as you tried to get rid of his touch.

“My daughter, Princess Y/N, just had the most wonderful idea!” He announced to the crowd as you looked at him in shock while he smiled “She told me she cannot wait to be married, just like any other lady” He joked, making the guest laugh at you.

Your father cupped your face by the chin, applying pressure on it so you wouldn’t be able to say a word as he exclaimed:

“And who am I to deny anything to my beautiful, beautiful little princess? The wedding ceremony will take place in two days! And you are all more than invited!”

The crowd cheered and clapped as you felt sick to your stomach. Two days?! How are you going to stop everything in only two days?

You released yourself from your father’s grip, tears clouding your eyes as you saw the winning smirk on his face.

“I warned you not to play games, little rose”

You stood in horror as you watched your father disappear into the crowd, accepting congratulations on your behalf and laughing with the other guest at your “eagerness” of getting married already.

“Y/N?” You heard Ashton said and he placed a hand on your shoulder “Are you-?”

You felt your breathing start to pick up, short and fast exhales came with almost no intake of air to your lungs. You were getting dizzy, disoriented as you analyzed the situation.

It was so fast… too fast. It all happened too fast.

“Y/N-” Ashton tried again, but you shook yourself from his touch.

“For fuck’s sake leave me alone!” You half-whispered, half yelled as you picked up your skirt and ran away from the ballroom.

The sound of your heels clicking on the floor was drowned by the sound of your breathless sobbing as you desperately looked for a way out of the castle.

You couldn’t stay here anymore. You needed to find Calum, see if he’s okay, and just leave. But with every step you took your worry grew stronger as thoughts of Calum hurt flashed through your head.

“Rose,” He said. Your father called you rose. He knew. He knew! And you couldn’t find Calum.

“Y/N!” A voice called from behind you, the sound of their heels coming closer as you tried to get away from there “Y/N, wait!”

You were almost at the door leading to the gardens, just a few steps from freedom when you felt a hand grip your arm, making you stop.

Luke stood there in front of you, almost breathless as his eyes filled with worry when he saw your tear-filled eyes and your trembling lip trying its hardest to suppress a cry.

Without thinking it twice, the young King pulled you into a hug. You were shocked at first but eventually, you relaxed in his arms as he let you cry onto his chest, hearing muffled apologies in between sobs.

“It’s okay,” He said softly, looking to his side to find Michael catching up with them at a distance “It’s okay”

“No!” You cried “No, it’s not! Luke I-” You stopped as the words of your father filled your brain “I have eyes everywhere, ears in every wall…”

You grabbed onto Luke’s hand and guided him outside the palace, looking over your shoulder in case someone tried to approach you.

“Tell Michael to stay at the entrance,” You told him.

Luke nodded as he signaled Michael to stay where he was, letting you take him away to the entrance of the woods where you were somewhat hidden from the palace while still being able to see it from where you were standing.

“What is going on?” Luke asked calmly “Why are we hiding? Why did you tell your father you wanted to marry this soon? I-”

“I didn’t do it! You have to believe me in this, Luke. Please” You begged “He is trying to hurt me, to hurt you! I didn’t want any of this to happen, please believe me that I had no idea that would happen”

Luke sighed, placing both his hands on your shoulders to try and calm you down “I believe you”

“You do?”

He nodded with a soft smile.

“Yeah, this is the first time I heard you say my name so I know this is serious,” Luke said “Why is he trying to hurt you?”

You didn’t answer, how could you? You trusted Luke, but did you trust him enough? How in the world would you tell your fiance that you are in love with someone else and that your father wants to punish you for it, that this whole charade of lies was created for dangerous means, and that he might also be in danger?

After a while, Luke asked softly:

“Is it because you love another, don’t you?” You froze, eyes filled with fear as you looked at him “It’s hard to pretend not to love someone when you’re close to them. I could see it while you were dancing with him, because it was him, wasn’t it? The man who owns your heart?”

You lowered your head, eyes filling with tears as you whispered “Luke-”

“It’s okay, love” He reassured, caressing your face and cupping your cheeks so you would look at him “I knew from the start that you belonged to another, and tonight I recognized that look, that complicit smile you only find in those whose life complete yours in a way where you didn’t think it was possible. I have never seen you as happy as you were dancing with him. You truly love him, do you?”

“More than anything” You answered without a doubt.

“And he surely loves you. It was more than obvious from the way he couldn’t stop looking at you throughout the dance. He’s a lucky man, and he knows how to give himself entirely to you. I don’t think I have ever seen a man so in love before”

“You sure know a lot about love, Luke,” You said surprising him “You know just as much as a man who is or has been in love before”

He chuckled lightly “That’s because you’re not the only one with a heart owned by another, Princess”

Luke averted his gaze back to the castle, a nostalgic cloud covering his baby blue eyes.

“Is your love waiting for you at home?” You asked softly, not wanting to intrude.

He chuckled softly before his expression changed from dreamy, to worry, to sad, you pretended you didn’t notice how his eyes became glossy from the tears.

“He’s the only home I’ve ever known…”

Then, you understood. Luke was not looking at the castle; he was looking at the person guarding the entrance, commanded by his King.

Your heart filled with an indescribable joy as you took your hand and placed it on Luke’s cheek, softly wiping a tear that started to roll down.

“I guess we are both stuck in this, huh?” He laughed, looking at you in the way only a strong bond could describe.

“But you don’t have to be,” He said, “Your love, do you know where he is?”

You started to shake your head, but then you remembered something.

“I think I might have an idea”

“Go to him.” Luke encouraged, kissing your knuckles before letting go of your hand “Michael and I will cover this entrance, I’ll tell everyone who asks that we were together talking and walking through the gardens the whole night so no one gets suspicious”

You could almost cry of relief at his words. You jumped into his arms and placed a kiss on his cheek while muttering a small “Thank you” before you started running through the woods, knowing exactly where to go and hoping that he’ll be there.

*

“Calum!” You sighed with relief, finally feeling like you could breathe when you saw him in front of your tree.

You took your chances coming here, not knowing if he was going to be waiting here or if he was somehow captured by your father's orders.

On your way to your secret place, your heart could not stop racing, the countless tragic possibilities flooded your mind as you ran through the woods, not caring if some parts of your dress got ripped because of your careless moving.

But there he was, sitting in one of the roots that were visible from the surface. He was not wearing his mask as he fiddled with it between his fingers until the moment he saw you.

“Y/N!” He breathed, getting up from his improvised seat and running towards you, involving you in a tight embrace. Only then, wrapped in your arms you understood Luke’s words.

Only there you felt truly at home.

“I thought something happened to you” You cried into his chest as you felt his hand soothe you while caressing your back “My father…”

“I know,” He said, placing a small kiss on the top of your head “When he announced the ceremony I could see a couple of guards coming my way, I had no choice but run”

Your whole body shook in terror when he said that. Now you knew your father was planning on hurting Calum now that he knew who he was. Unless he’d always known…

“Hey, hey, hey,” He said when he felt you cry again “It’s okay, my love. I got away, didn’t I?”

“Now, but you know what he’s capable of doing, Cal. You saw what he did at the party! He moved the wedding closer because he knew we’ve been searching for ways to stop it. He knows who you are and if anything- if anything happens to you, I-”

“Nothing is going to happen to me, okay?” Calum stated, pulling you away from him just enough so he could see your face and cup your cheeks with his hands “I will not let anything happen to me or you, I promise. I will be there for you, Y/N, always”

You nodded but still felt a cloud of darkness surrounding you. You trusted Calum more than anyone, but this might be the first promise that he might not fulfill. Your father is a powerful man that reigned by inflicting fear into his people and respect by his equals basing himself with lies.

If he could turn your world upside down with just a couple of words… what would he do to Calum?

“How did you know I was here?” Calum asked, trying to lighten the mood when he noticed you spacing out in sorrow.

You chuckled, lowering your gaze to the floor “I had a hunch”

“Were you followed?”

“No, Luke and Michael stayed to watch the entrance and the surroundings” Calum looked at you puzzled “We can trust them, it’s okay. Luke doesn’t want to marry me either”

“What a fool-”

“He doesn’t want to marry me because, like me, he is in love with someone else,” You said with a smile that quickly disappeared with your next thought “And now we’ll both be trapped in a marriage where we’ll be forced to be away from the ones we truly love”

“Then don’t marry him,” Calum said in a breath.

You rolled your eyes “Is not that easy, Calum. You know that-”

“That a King’s promise may never be broken. But what if the King promised something that can’t be possible?”

His tone was questioning, almost as if he wasn’t sure of what he was saying either and he was just thinking at the top of his head.

“Love, what are you-?”

“What if you couldn’t marry the King because you’re already married?” He asked, more certain this time.

You were about to answer him with another question, trying to understand what he was trying to say. But he continued, trying to explain himself better.

“You know the law commands that no one should remarry while still being married to another partner. What if- what if we get married first? That way-”

“That way the King’s promise will be null” You finished for him “Because the bride he promised is a married woman who cannot go over the law… Calum, that’s genius but how-?”

“I thought about it for a while when I came over the statement that ruled that no law should cancel another”

You looked at him confused, but with a smile showing on your face “And you’re telling me this now?”

He looked nervous.

“I-I didn’t want to put that pressure on you. It is a huge risk, not to mention a lot of responsibility as well, and I didn’t want to pressure you into marrying me if you weren’t sure you wanted that. I thought we could find another way out before the ceremony, so I kept it a secret for some time. I admit I was afraid of how you might react”

You answered him with a tearful chuckle as you jumped into his arms and crashed your lips to his as you caught him by surprise.

It was impossible to deny the happiness you felt as he responded to the kiss as eagerly as you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“If you thought for a second that I would ever say no to that, then you might not know who you’re asking for her hand in marriage,” You said, smiling against his lips, chasing them into another kiss as a complete feeling of euphoria came over you.

Calum smiled, wrapping his arms around the back of your thighs and picking you up as he spun you around, laughing along with you as your giggles could be heard from all around the woods, for you just made him the happiest man on earth.

“If we are going to do this,” He said as he put you down “Let me do this properly”

You felt your eyes filled with happy tears as you watched Calum get down on one knee in front of you. Smiling at you with bright brown eyes that shined like the stars from Orion above.

“Y/N,” He started “My love, my rose. God knows this is not the way I planned this; in my dreams we are sailing away to a new land, traveling the world as we share our dreams and make them come true before our eyes. In my dreams I had a ring to give you, a pretty speech prepared, and a thousand lights to illuminate the way you looked, bringing the start to shame.

But I have no ring, and the words that are coming out of my mouth come straight from my heart. But the moon does shine on you, my love and you’ve never looked so beautiful as you do.

I cannot offer much. I’m no royal nor do I own stacks of land that could be ever worthy of you, my love. I cannot offer you a house, I cannot offer you fancy dresses or expensive jewelry, I cannot give you the kind of life royalty deserves. But I can give you all my love as we made the world our home. Because all I need, Y/N, to live a happy life is for you to be by my side if you let me.

I knew I wanted to marry you since the moment I saw you standing in that pile of dirt when we were nothing more than children venturing in a world filled with adult problems. I knew I loved you then, even before I knew what love is. And, if you let me, it would be my honor to love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me, my rose?”

You tearfully nodded, covering your mouth with your hands as you tried to prevent a sob from getting out.

“Yes,” You said softly before repeating it loudly “Yes!”

In an instant, you threw yourself into Calum’s arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as he held you by your waist, helping you straddle his lap, one leg at each side of his hips, as he pushed your skirt to the sides so you’d be closer and more comfortable.

You wasted no time in pressing your lips against his, letting your hands play with his hair as he rocked your bodies together, deepening the kiss as far as you’d let him.

A little moan escaped your mouth when you felt his tongue press against your bottom lip. Calum took this opportunity to capture every sound you made as you granted him more access, parting your lips slightly and letting him explore more of you as you got drunk with his touch.

“Say it again” He begged, his lips now leaving kisses along your jaw as your fingers tangled and tugged on his hair, making him groan against your skin.

“Yes,” You whispered breathlessly.

You felt your skin on fire every time his lips trailed along your jaw and neck, kissing it gently as you melted against him. It wasn’t something new, you’ve kissed like this before and stopped before it turned into something else, but there was something about tonight.

You didn’t know if it was the proposal, the adrenaline, or the simple need of being together now more than ever since your future is still uncertain. But every single kiss, every sound, every move… it just made you crave it even more.

“Calum…” You breathed, tugging his hair to bring him even closer to you.

He muffled a groan into your neck, letting the smell of your perfume intoxicate him as you moved your hips closer to him, “Love, don’t do that” He whispered, almost begging you to stop as he knocked his forehead with yours “You know that if this goes any further, I might not be able to stop”

You’ve been intimate before, only not like this. It wasn’t uncommon for you to lay next to each other, whether it was on our bed or in the clear spot next to the tree. You would explore your bodies with soft touches and lingering kisses that always felt like the start of something but that never lead to anything other than whispered confessions and soft makeout sessions.

The need was always there, you both felt it before, but this time you had no intention of stopping.

“Then don’t,” You said softly, looking into Calum’s eyes as he raised his eyebrows in shock.

“Y/N…”

“Don’t stop, Calum, please” You whined, moving your hips again to gain some kind of friction between the layers of fabric as you felt how his cock hardened in his pants “I want it. I want you”

Calum stopped your movements altogether, holding your hips with one hand as the other one cupped one side of your face, making you look at him when he asked.

“Y/N, are you sure about this?” His breath was heavy, but his eyes were determined as he gazed into yours “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not one hundred percent-”

You placed your fingers on the top of his lips to silence him.

“I was yours since the day we met.” You whispered, a soft smile illuminating your face “I was yours the day I told you I love you. I was yours when we danced tonight and I’ll be yours forever for the rest of my life. Make me your wife, Calum. Be mine and make me yours again”

Something shifted in Calum’s eyes at the sound of your words as lust settled all over them. He wasted no time in pulling you closer to him, capturing your lips in a much more heated kiss.

It was entirely different from whatever you’ve experienced before with him. This kiss was sloppy, a mixture of tongues and teeth as he bit your bottom lip. The sounds that came from both of you died in your throats as you desperately acted upon your desires.

You pulled apart for one minute as you took the top part of your dress, throwing it god knows where as you tried to untie the knots of your corset. Calum took it upon himself to start kissing your neck again, this time with more freedom to roam across your collarbone. “Let me,” He said softly after a while, letting his hands take over yours as they started to undo the knots one by one.

Once you were free, you felt Calum’s hands cup your breasts, massaging them as you moaned softly, still moving your hips with a more steady and fast rhythm against his groin looking for some sort of release.

“Y/N,” Calum moaned, taking his hands off your breast down to your hips, halting your movements once again “Lay down for me, my love” He whispered, kissing your earlobe as you felt goosebumps all over your body.

Calum took off his suit jacket, laying it on the floor so you’d be more comfortable. You sat back on your elbows as you watched him take off his shirt, leaving him with his chest exposed to you.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him shirtless on top of you. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but the context is different now that you can admire his well-defined abs under the moonlight. You couldn’t resist letting your fingers caress his chest with barely-there touches over his muscles and nipples, making him let out a breathy moan as soon as you did.

But before you could go any further, he grabbed you softly by the wrist.

“Not yet, Princess,” He said, lust laced in every word as he let your hand go to start working on getting you out of that skirt and underwear.

He worked quickly, leaving you completely bare in front of him. You felt his eyes on you and your first instinct was to cover yourself even though shame was the last thing in your mind right now. Despite that initial response, you felt safe with him, the safest you felt in years.

Calum smirked playfully, shaking his head as he grabbed both your hands in his and pinning them over your head “Don’t hide from me, my love” He said, lips hovering over yours but never touching them as he started kissing the spot under your ear, leaving you breathless in a second.

You closed your eyes and let yourself drift in pleasure as you felt Calum’s lips trail down to your breasts, kissing each one of them softly around the pebbled nipples, sucking and biting them as you felt your arousal grow with every new sensation.

Once he felt satisfied with the way you were moaning, he started kissing along your chest and down to your stomach, leaving a trail of fiery kisses until he stopped before reaching your core.

Calum let go of your hands which immediately flew to his hair when he started kissing the inside of your thighs, getting closer but not close enough to where you needed him most.

“Calum,” You moaned, feeling his breath over your entrance.

“Say it again,” He asked, kissing your right leg as his hands wandered over to your ass, lifting you up slightly and bringing you closer to him “Say yes, again”

“Yes.” You said in one breath.

“Again” He demanded softly, kissing you over your mound.

“Yes.”

“Again”

“Yes, oh...”

No sounds came out of your mouth as he placed his lips over your clit, kissing it softly at first before starting to lightly suck on it. You then felt him lick a long stripe up your center, making you shiver each time as he always ended up at your clit, gathering your arousal in his tongue and moaning at the taste, sending glorious vibrations up to your core. He smiles when he feels you tug on his hair with every breathy moaned you let out, letting him know that you were enjoying this as much as he was.

Soon, you felt his fingers trace along your folds up and down, stopping at your entrance a couple of times before he pushed the first finger inside, making you both moan at the feeling.

Then, a finger became two as Calum started to move them inside and out of your tight hole at a fast pace while his lips remained attached to your clit, licking and sucking over it until you reached your first climax of the night.

Calum licked you through your orgasm, lapping on your arousal until he heard you whine thanks to the oversensitivity. Then, he pulled himself up, kissing a trail from your stomach to your lips.

You were seeing stars behind your eyelids as you tasted yourself on his tongue, moaning as you felt his hard, clothed cock brush over your sensitive core.

“Calum,” You whimpered as he pulled away from his lips to let his head fall to your side, kissing your neck with zeal.

“Tell me what you want, my love” He whispered in your ear, making your whole body shiver under him as he kissed your cheeks tenderly “Tell me what you want and I’ll give you the world”

“You, only you”

He smiled, prompting himself onto his elbows to kiss your lips again.

“I’m yours”

It took no time for Calum to get rid of his pants and thrust into you, letting you adjust to the new feeling as he kissed the pain away while he started to thrust slowly into you. His hand cupped your face as he kissed you over and over again until you begged him to speed up the pace, letting the sting of pain become one of pleasure every time Calum moved his hips into you, hitting every spot with ease.

You became one big pile of tangled limbs and shared pleasure, moaning and groaning your feelings of ecstasy as you held each other as close as you could. One hand caressing your sides while you alternated between playing with his hair and dragging your fingers down his back, feeling every muscle work as you wrapped your legs around him, letting him deeper and deeper each time.

You got drunk with the sound of each other’s moans as you reached your climax. Calum swears he’s never heard a more beautiful sound than his name falling from your lips in total bliss as you clenched around his cock, making his thrusts slow down as he came with the taste of your name still on his lips.

"I love you," He said with a smile as wide as the sky, pulling you closer against his naked body "God, how I love you, my rose"

You kissed his lips softly, humming an "I love you" in between a content smile before saying:

"Calum?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Thank you for loving me"

You woke up sometime later, still wrapped around his arms as his jacket covered you both from the cold night. You let out a breath of relief as you realized that the moon was still high up in the sky, meaning that you still had a few hours before having to go back to the castle.

Calum slept peacefully next to you, holding you close as he let his chin rest above your head. You kissed his Adam's apple and softly giggled when he pulled you closer to his chest, you knew that you would always be safely wrapped around his arms and there was no other place you’d rather stay than with him.

It was almost incredible to believe that by tomorrow night you’d finally become husband and wife and that this will be your life forevermore.

No more castles, no more parties, no more dangers nor royalty duties. You will be together, finally be free.

.

.

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[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Take My Hand (Part Two)

Summary: you thought it was enough, you thought it was what it deserved, but it wasn’t. it never was. (one of three four parts)

Pairings: Rafael Barba x Reader, Sonny Carisi x Reader

Word Count: 5,395

Song: I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life (tolerate it by taylor swift)

Warnings: T, implications of sex, so much angst, some swearing, 

A/N: again thank you to @bucky-of-the-opera​ and @qvid-pro-qvo​ but also @laneygthememequeen​ for giving me feedback and listening to me ramble as i continue to write this series. thank all of you for all of your wonderful comments/reblogs - every one gave me the motivation to keep writing! Also i made these timecards to account for the passage of time since we will be jumping through years quite a bit. 

“Why did we agree to  letting him shadow us again?” Rafael whispers to you, glancing at Sonny working at the conference table — his irritation evident, “it doesn’t give us a lot of time alone.” 

“Well, he’s a law student and a new detective, I’m trying to show him the ropes, and who's the one who got home late last night? Besides, he said he’d buy us coffee to thank us,” you lean away from him, nudging him, mouthing ‘be nice,’ “have you taken Criminal Procedure yet? Or Evidence?” 

“I’m taking Evidence right now, but this is nothing like learning about it in class,” he was flipping helping you root through the discovery that the defense had buried you in — a typical Buchanan maneuver, “Did you always think you would be a prosecutor?” 

You snort, “No,” and Rafael even looks up from his work, and you shake your head, “Well I thought I would go corporate at first, make some money to support myself, invest properly and then retire, but a year into doing that, I hated it. I ended up leaving without barely making a dent in my student loans.” 

“Ouch,” Sonny shook his head, “and you came here? Do you regret it?” 

“I’d be interested to hear the answer to this,” Rafael leans forward, resting his chin on his fist. 

You scoff at him, considering it — did you regret it? “I don’t,” you say, “although I’d be way less in debt, I wouldn’t be happy — I wouldn’t be helping victims, I wouldn’t be getting justice, and I wouldn’t be working with you two — “ Rafael’s gaze softens, “and here, I’m happy,” and you catch Rafael smiling at his desk, before adding, “except when Barba doesn’t get his coffee.” 

Sonny guffaws, trying and failing to hide it with a cough, “You want to get us some coffee, Fordham or are you too busy pulling a muscle from laughing?” 

“Alright, alright,” he holds his hands up in surrender, grabbing his jacket, before leaving, the office door swinging shut behind him. 

“Would it kill you to be a little nicer to him?” Rafael shrugs, rising from his desk, and wrapping his arms around you, “Raf—” 

“Better him than me, right?” he presses a kiss to your shoulder, “I liked it better when he had the mustache.” 

You laugh, shaking your head, as he sighs against the crook of your neck, “Just be nicer to him okay? He’s really trying here, and he’s a good detective.” 

“What’s with the sudden interest in Fordham?” 

You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, “His name is Sonny, and he’s sweet — I’m trying to help him out, and you should too. He looks up to you.” 

“Lucky me,” you press a kiss to his lips, “it’s not fair when you do that—” 

You kiss him again, your tongue tasting him, his mouth following yours as you slipped away back into your seat, “Be nice.” 

“As long as you’re nice to me tonight,” he replies, just before Carisi returns, coffees in hand. 

“I hope the shadowing has been helpful, I know Rafael can be an ass—” you shrugged your jacket off, slinging it over your arm, walking beside Sonny, the detective insisting on walking you home. 

“Well he wouldn’t be Barba otherwise, would he?” and you snort, glancing at your phone to see a text from him — working, will be late. Your place? 

“Well you’re right about that,” you tucked your phone away, seeing Sonny run his fingers over his chin and mouth, “missing the stache?” 

“Not really, no, but Rollins made a remark that I looked better with it,” he bites his lips, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “what do you think?” 

You purse your lips in mock thought, holding your chin,  “No, I think I prefer this look,” you laughed, “You look good.” 

“Oh I look good? Really?” and he raises his eyebrows suggestively, and you bump him with your shoulder, “come on, counselor, you can’t play coy.” 

You step in front of him, “Oh yeah, definitely — you’re a real heart stealer,”Before turning on your heel and continuing to stroll, “do you want to grab a drink?” and you didn’t catch the way he was looking at you as you walked away from him — his eyes shining in the low light of the streetlights. 

“Yeah, I’d love to.” 

“We know this guy is guilty,” Amanda told you two, her arms crossed, “but we can’t get past his troop of lawyers to get anywhere close to his employees.” 

Liv leans back in her chair, “So, why don’t you two do your job and get this guy on charges for us?” 

You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face, “You don’t know that for sure, Liv, and even if you did — it goes against the justice system to just entrap people without a fair process first. We can’t do our jobs, until you guys do yours—” 

“We can’t get more evidence until he’s indicted — he’s too smart, he won’t expect it, he’ll get sloppy,” Liv looks at Barba for support, and as do you, lips a thin line, and he sighs. 

“We’ll get a grand jury together, we’ll send out subpoenas, and see where we are at—” 

You gape at him, “Rafael—” 

“I don’t know counselor, this could be risky—” Carisi steps forward, brow furrowed, “Lieu, she has a point — we take this now, we wouldn’t get another shot at him.” 

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Rafael waved him off, “book him, now.” 

Liv and Amanda left, while Sonny hung around his desk, as you pulled Rafael aside, “Rafael, you literally went over my head—” 

His eyes narrowed, “We need to build a case—” 

You scoffed, “SVU builds the case, we prosecute it — we’re not in the business of using indictments to get our evidence,” you looked around the precinct, eyes flitted away, and you pulled him into Liv’s office, shutting the door, “you undermined me, my opinion—” 

He says your name, “You know I value your opinion but—” 

“Not as much as Liv’s,” and it’s his turn to gape at you, “you know this case doesn't have enough — and you’re pushing it through anyway—” 

“SVU cases are not open and shut—” 

“No case is open and shut— otherwise, we wouldn’t have so many innocent people die of the death penalty would we?” you grit your teeth, “you handle this case — if you want to take a half-baked case to a grand jury I won’t stop you, but I won’t be cleaning up your messes either.” 

He calls after you, but you leave without another word, stepping into the elevator, the doors shutting until a hand stops them — but it isn’t Rafael, “Counselor,” he steps in after you, hitting the ground floor button — the doors shutting, “are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” his eyes fell on your fisted phone, knuckles white. 

“Your phone would beg to disagree — you’re aboutta crack the screen with your grip,” and your cheeks burn, slipping the phone into your pocket, “you know Lieu has a tendency to become a little blinded when it comes to the victims, she—” 

“I know, Sonny, and most of the time I find that admirable about Liv, but it’s our jobs as prosecutors to bring justice — and that’s not just for the victims, but it’s for society,” your eyes look the ceiling, blinking away hot tears of frustration, “pushing through cases like this isn’t justice — it’s reckless,” the elevator doors ding open, and you slip through, expecting to be alone, but Sonny still follows out the doors of the precinct. 

“I get it,” you huff, slowing to a stop, “I do, really. I may be a cop, but I want to be a lawyer too, and to be one, you gotta see both sides, don’t you? But what do you do when things are gray?” 

“You search for the truth,” 

His lips twisted in a frown, he asks, “and if you can’t find it?” 

“Then you look for the closest thing to it, but this, a fishing expedition—” you shake your head, “this isn’t it.” 

He nods, jerking his head, “Come on, let’s grab a coffee,” 

“I should get—” 

He smiles, “I’m sure Barba won’t mind the extra time to lick his wounds, you really chewed him out,” 

You raised an eyebrow, “How much of our conversation did you hear?” 

“Not much after you went into the office, but it was still obviously heated,” you feel anger sting at your eyes, the heat rising in your body, and instead of fury — it came in tears, how convenient, “but for what it’s worth, I value your opinion a lot, counselor. And I know Barba does too,” he adds, and you follow as he leads you away from the precinct, “he’s just not showing it well.” 

You glanced at your phone — Going back to the office, can we talk? — “No,” you reply, “No he isn’t.” 

But did he ever? 

“Where’d you learn to cook anyway?” your legs were slung over Rafael’s lap one Sunday morning, as he fed you another forkful of the huevos rancheros he had made,  “I thought you lived off coffee and Forlini’s.” 

“Ha, ha,” he kissed you, licking the bit of sauce left on your lips, “well consider it my way of making up for what happened with the case. I am sorry about that, you know that right?” 

“I do,” you open your mouth and he feeds you another bite, “but don’t think I didn’t notice you dodging the question, Barba.” 

He purses his lips, “How about we just say I learned for you and leave at that?” 

You frowned, “Raf,” he fell silent, the gears in his head turning, “you don’t have to talk about it, but you don’t have to lie either.” 

He starts softly, even as he stabs the eggs with his fork, “When my dad went off on one of his tirades, Mami wasn’t in any shape to cook, and she wouldn’t want to ask Abuelita since that would involve telling her what happened — so I would cook for us.” 

You lean over, pressing a small kiss to his cheek, “You never talk about your father,” 

“What’s there to talk about?” he replies quietly, “he married my mom — he was amazing at first, and then just like that,” he snaps his fingers, “he changed. When they got married, he had permission to be the person he always was — angry, disgusting, abusive. He made her cut off everyone out of her life, made her miserable, abused her, abused me—” he cut off, setting the fork down with a clatter, “but still, I see him every day when I look in the mirror — and I wonder if I’m any better than him at all.” 

“Rafael, look at me,” you slide closer to him, your fingers intertwined with his, when you tilt his chin up, “you are not your father — far from it. You help victims get justice, you help them tell their stories, you are a good man, one of the best men I know.” 

He sniffs, a small smile on his lips, “Even when I don’t get my coffee?” 

You roll your eyes, shifting again so your knees are either side of his lap, sitting properly on him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Even then — Raf, you are so good, I just wish you’d see it — I wish you’d see yourself.” 

He leans up to kiss you, gently, “Maybe I can see myself through you,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours, and you sit in silence for a moment — in peace, before he finally breaks it, “I think it’s because of him that I’m so scared of us — I don’t want to be him.” 

“You could never be him—”  

“But you don’t know that,” he replies, his gaze falling to his lap, dark, as he shifts you softly off of him, “not really.” 

“Rafael—” he rises from the sofa, his back turned away from you, as he heads to the bathroom. 

“I need to shower.” And he leaves you there, without another word. 

“Working late again?” Sonny poked his head into his office, “it’s 2 AM counselor, isn’t anyone expecting you home?” 

You don’t look up from your work, “I could ask you the same — what are you doing here?” Sonny lifted his scarf off your bookshelf, folded neatly on top of some stacked books and briefs. 

“I just finished my shift at the precinct, and thought I’d drop by and see about picking this up,” he glanced at Rafael’s office, light closed, “No Barba?” 

“No, he headed home for the night,” more like you had insisted on him getting some sleep tonight, plying him with sweet kisses, until finally he left — but now you were left with the work to take care of, “I’m wrapping up some work,” you yawn, stretching, blinking at the detective still standing in your doorway, “aren’t you heading home?” 

“Yeah, I’m just waiting on you — the cases will be there in the mornin’,” he steps forward, offering you your coat, “come on.” 

You pout, “But I didn’t get what I said—” 

“Is it something that can be done tomorrow?” 

“Yes, but—” he shuts off your desk lamp, holding your coat out again. 

“I’ll walk you home,” and you sigh, looking between your work and his hand, before hauling yourself to your feet. 

It was not another ten minutes when your stomach started growling, to which Sonny raised an eyebrow, “Like to share something with the class?” 

Your cheeks burned, as you bite your bottom lip, “I may have forgotten to eat today,” and Sonny shook his head. 

“You don’t sleep, you don’t eat — do you and Barba just run on coffee?” 

“And spite,” you add with a shrug, “how do you get time to eat? You’re constantly running around all over the place.” 

“You have to make the time, whether that’s me eating in my car or taking a half hour to go grab a slice, maybe next time I’ll invite you along,” his hands slipped into his pockets. 

“I’d love to right now, but I am a little sick of takeout, and I think I rather crash at this point,” you rubbed at your eyes, “food can wait until tomorrow.” 

“You need to eat, counselor, or your stomach won’t let you,” his brow wrinkled in thought, “do you have anything at home?” 

“Nothing prepared, I have some things frozen, but nothing that’s ready—” 

“I’ll cook you something, dinner—” he glanced at his watch, “I think it's closer to breakfast at this point.” 

“Sonny, you don’t need to do that—” 

“I want to — to thank you for letting me shadow you and Barba,” his smile is so warm, “I assume he wasn’t too pleased with the idea at first.” 

“You don’t need to thank me — it’s fine—” you started, but he cut you off. 

“Are you hungry?” you pouted, as your stomach growled again, “Strike that, you are, and do you have the energy to cook?” 

“No, but—” 

“No buts, come on,” he clapped his hands together, you stood, biting your lip, “are you not okay with this?” 

“It’s not you, Sonny—” it was the concept of this — having a man over late at night, and you trusted Sonny, you did — he was your friend, but it felt misleading, “I just want you to know I’m seeing someone, kind of.” 

He raised an eyebrow, “Kind of?” 

“It’s not a relationship, but it kind of is — we’re keeping things casual for now,” you licked your dry lips, but your throat was a desert compared to it, “I just don’t want to mislead—” 

He cut you off, saying with your name, “It’s fine,” he offered a small smile, “I get it. Consider me friendzoned — now are you hungry or not?” 

“I am.” you hurried along in front of him, shivering in the cold, not noticing his smile slip from his face. 

“How did you learn to cook?” You were told to sit at your island, watching Sonny root through your fridge, “also, I’m sorry again for the state of my fridge, I’m not home a lot so—” 

“Trust me, I get it,” he pulls eggs, cheese, and a can of tomatoes from the fridge, “and I learned from my mother — she had her handful with my sisters, so sometimes I would cook with her or for her. I got used to it and I liked it.”

“Am I allowed to help or do I just watch?” he crossed his arms, evaluating you, making you sit up a bit straighter. 

“Have you ever poached eggs before?” your expression was enough of an answer, “how about you leave the heavy lifting to me and just do what I tell you.” 

“Yes sir,” and you missed him smiling at your cheeky reply, “What’s first?” 

“We both have the same weekday off?” you drop your purse and jacket on his chair, as he pulls you into his arms, “has that ever happened before?” 

“Not in what? Three years of working together?” he trails kisses down your neck, tugging at your collar, “we can’t waste it.” 

“What are you implying, counselor?” you say in mock surprise, as he walked you backwards, pressing you to the nearest wall. 

His eyes lidded and dark, as his fingers toyed with the buttons on your button up, “I’m implying that I want to spend the day f—” 

There was a knock on the door — both of your heads snapping over. You whispered, “were you expecting anyone?” 

“No?” he whispered back, “it might be someone from the squad, wait in the bedroom—” 

You rolled your eyes, as he strode over to the door, straightening his clothes, and adjusting himself noticeably, to which you snorted — earning you a sharp look over his shoulder,  before you slipped into the bedroom, door shut. 

You heard a woman’s voice speaking, heels clicking against the floor. You pressed your ear to the door, but there was no need because the voices grew louder,  “The bedroom is a mess, Mami,” 

Shit. 

There was nowhere to hide in here — but you didn’t want to come off looking rude either — you spotted Rafael’s headphones and a book on his bed stand. 

Well, oblivious is better than idiotic. 

You adjusted your clothes, sitting on the bed, playing music on your phone loudly, flipping the book open to a random page, just as the door opened, “Now, what could be so bad that you don’t want your own mother to—” She cut off, when she saw you, and you peered up, mouth agape — in fake (and real) astonishment, “well hello.” 

“Hi,” you slipped the headphones to your neck, before pulling them off, setting the book side, as you looked from a bewildered Rafael to his appraising mother, “you must be Rafael’s mother, Lucia,” you introduce yourself, holding out your hand, “I work with your son at his office.” 

She repeats your name, elbowing her son, “This is who you’re always talking about?” 

“Excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow at a flustered Rafael, the tips of his ears and bridge of his nose a beautiful red. 

“Mami, I think I neglected to tell you that—” 

“That you and your gorgeous co-worker here are seeing each other? It would seem so,” she slaps him lightly with her purse, before talking your hand warmly, “it’s very nice to meet you, dear. I apologize for my son’s lack of disclosure—” another pointed look at her son, “I wouldn’t have interrupted your day off together otherwise—imagine if I used the key you gave me.” 

Rafael blanched at the thought, his eyes desperately trying to apologize to you, but you kept your eyes on Lucia, “There’s no need to apologize, I’m sorry for surprising you—” you smiled, your nerves pushed to the very edge — imagine if she had walked a few minutes later, “is there something you need from Rafael?” 

“Not in particular, I was going to ask him if he wanted to join me for lunch— I just cooked his favorite, but now that I see he’s busy—” 

“No, you both should go,” you wave her off, “I don’t want to step on any plans—” 

“Why don’t you join us?” Lucia offered, elbowing her son, “if that’s okay with el juez here?” 

“Of course,” he cleared his throat, his smile sincere, “join us, if you want to.” 

Well how could you say no to that? 

“This is delicious, Lucia,” you and Rafael helped her pick up the table, insisting on her sitting, “thank you again for having me over. It means so much.” 

“I was happy to — my son’s personal life has always been a bit of mystery to me,” she walks over, pinching his cheek, “mijo has a mouth he doesn’t mind running except when it involves his personal life.” 

“Mami,” he warned, and she lifted her hands in surrender. 

“On that note, I’m going to wash up, and I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself to the bathroom, washing your hands, and just as you began to step out, you heard them whispering. 

“So what’s the story here, Rafi? You’ve been together for quite a while — any chance you’ll be popping the question anytime soon?” 

Your heart thumped against your ribcage, leaping out of your chest, “It’s not like that between us, Mami — we’re together but—” and your heart sunk in the same motion — down to the floor, “we’re not serious—” small smack and Rafael’s ‘ouch.’ 

“Do not be such an idiot that a keeper will wait for you this long — it’s a miracle you’ve been together this long,” you hear her sigh, “not serious? The way you look at each other? Rafi, not every person is Yelina—” 

“This isn’t about her,” he cuts her off, exasperated, as you rest your forehead against the trim of the bathroom door, “I know what I’m doing.” 

“You know what you’re doing,” she repeats, the clink of the dishes in the sink, “I hope you do, mijo, or you’ll regret it.” 

Regret, you thought, squeezing your eyes shut — you knew a little something about that, as you slipped from Lucia’s apartment, the door shutting behind you. 

There was urgent knocking on your door — and you placed your book down. Well, this was inevitable. 

You had been avoiding Rafael since the lunch with his mother — taking shifts and working out of your office. He had been texting and calling — you hadn’t been replying — the temptation regulated to the charger in the kitchen. He wanted to explain, he wanted to talk — but he always wanted to explain, he always wanted to talk. And he always talked his way back into your pants with plying words and sweet kisses. 

But now there was nothing more to be said. He left nothing else to be said. 

Even so, it wasn’t his fault entirely  — it was your fault for letting this get so far. 

And why had you let it get so far? That was the one question you couldn’t answer yourself. 

And now, you steeled yourself as you approached the door — you supposed he wanted to have it out in person. 

“Who is it?” you asked, arms crossed. 

“It’s Sonny,” you blinked, his voice unsteady and weak, as you threw open the door, finding him grim faced and dull, the color pulled from his face. 

“Sonny, what happened—” 

“Can I, uh, come in?” you stepped aside, letting him in, shutting the door behind you, and he didn’t sit down — or rather he couldn’t. He paced the length of the room, his eyes on the ground, arms across his chest. 

“Sonny?” you ask hesitantly, as you approach him, his back turned, “what’s wrong?” He faces you, tears streaming down his face, “Sonny—” 

“I’m sorry,” he blinks, wiping away the tears, “I’m fine, I shouldn’t’ve come here, I just—” his voice breaks, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, “I didn’t know where to go.” 

“Sonny, stop, you can always come here,” you squeezes his shoulder gently, “sit down, please.” You lead him to the couch, spotting red specks of blood on his neck and on the collar of his shirt, “what happened?” and he tenses, “we don’t have to talk about it right now, okay?” he buries his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, hunched over, “let me get you some water—” 

“Look, I don’t need water — I just need—” he stammers, “please, just stay beside me, please?” 

And you did, your hand reaching for his, fingers slowly intertwining with his longer ones — even with how gentle Sonny was, with how he dwarfed you in size never failed to surprise you, but then again, he was always full of surprises, wasn’t he? His hand was warm and soft, engulfing with its heat, but trembled under your touch. You squeezed it every few minutes, the ones you sat in silence in, to remind him that you were still there — that he wasn’t alone. And you would never leave him to be alone. 

His first words were quiet in an already still room, “Barba has kept you updated on the Quinn Berris case right?” you nod — the woman who had been raped by her stalker, Ray Wilson. Wilson had been arrested by Sergeant Tom Coles four years ago, “We found out that Quinn wasn’t raped by Ray Wilson — it was Coles.” 

Your jaw dropped, “Coles did it—” 

“We went to his house, to confront him,” his voice shook as he spoke, his eyes hard, fixed on your carpet, but he was somewhere else now — back in Coles’ home, “I moved slowly, I did everything by the book, and I turned around, and he had his gun to my head.” 

“Sonny,” you squeezed his hand again, “what happened?” 

“I thought he was going to kill me,” he swallowed, his eyes unblinking, “I can still feel the metal brushing my forehead, following me as I put my gun down,” he leans back, arms crossed again, “I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t do anything. I could hear myself talking, but I didn’t know what I was saying — it was like everything was underwater. If Liv didn’t shoot him—”  

“But you’re okay, Sonny,” you pulled him closer, arm wrapped around his shoulder, “You’re alive.”

“He didn’t have to die,” he whispers, “he could have just surrendered.” 

“He didn’t want to, Sonny,” you shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks, “he had lost everything, and he wanted to die — and he wanted someone else to go down with him. But you didn’t.”

“You know in the moment, I didn’t even pray,” he gives a bitter chuckle, “years of Catholic schooling and church, but in that moment all I could think of was my family, the squad, you,” he shakes his head, “I’m sorry for coming over and unloading this all on you — I didn’t mean—” 

“Don’t apologize,” you brush away your tears, your hands gently pulling him into a hug, “I’m just so glad you’re okay, Sonny.”  

He rested his chin on your shoulder, finally shutting his eyes for a moment, a peace washing over him for a moment, “Me too.” 

“Not a minute is promised, is it?” you whisper, pulling away, and he shakes his head. 

“Not a second,” and your thoughts fall away to your phone — to Rafael. It could have been him today — or any day. Was it worth holding a grudge, if it meant you wouldn’t see him again? That your last words to him were nothing but silence? 

“Let me get some water, Sonny,” and he nodded, leaning back on the couch, as you slipped away, grabbing a glass, as well as your phone. 

Rafael Barba: Mi amor, please, I’m sorry. Can we talk? 

You: I’m busy today, but tomorrow, we’ll talk. 

“We need to talk,” your office door opened — night had long fallen, the chatter and bustle of the office long died away in the darkness, the washed out fluorescent dimmers flickering in the halls — and there was only one person who would be opening your door right now. 

Rafael stood in your doorway, his knuckles white against the doorknob. Rafael’s brows knitted together, his mouth twisted in a scowl. You leaned back in your chair, raising an eyebrow, “not here.” 

“I can’t step away from this—” 

“You can make time for this,” he hisses, eyes narrowed, but you don’t budge, arms crossed, and he shuts your door, locking it, pulling the shutters down, “You went over my head.” 

You weren’t going to deny it, “I did,” you had went to Jack, talked to him about your concerns about the case you two had been handling together, another case slapped together that Rafael was trying to push through to trial — and you finally had enough, “You didn’t give me much of a choice—” 

“There was a choice — you could have talked to me—” you scoffed, flipping your file closed, “what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Rafael, you’re pushing through cases I don’t agree with — cases without enough information, forcing taxpayer dollars to be used on cases that will not succeed, and yes sometimes that’s necessary, sometimes we have bad cases, but sometimes you’re casting a stigma on people who end up being innocent—” 

“And sometimes casting a stigma is all we can do to warn other potential victims—” 

“And sometimes it just ruins someone’s reputation, and our own when we end up with lawsuits for damages,” you cross your arms, rounding your desk, “just because Liv coerces you into pushing through cases—” 

“Is that what this is about? That you’re jealous of Liv?” he snaps, and you laugh — a bitter noise you don't recognize, “I never thought you would ever let our personal problems affect your judgement.” 

“First of all,” your voice was an eerie calm, a deadly frigid cold permeated your words, “this has nothing to do with your personal life — this has to do with protecting the integrity of this office,” and it was his turn to scoff, "and second of all, what is there to be jealous of, Rafael?" you cross your arms, "We fuck — that’s it. Period. That’s all we are to each other. A warm body, nothing more and nothing less. You’re too busy saving the rest of the world to care.” and you wouldn’t allow your voice to crack, even though you could feel yourself crumbling with every word that you spit like venom — poisoning him and you from the inside out, “we're not serious,” you echo his words, a sinking feeling in your gut. 

“That was out of context—” 

“It’s not out of context when I heard the entire conversation, Rafael,” you shake your head, turning away from him, to look out your window — lights dotted the streets, the city very much alive with so many other places to be. 

His reply is quiet, “Is that all I am to you?” 

“I should be asking you that,” you sigh, clutching at your forehead, “no matter how much we talk about it — how much we try to fix it, we can’t. We can’t. Call this a failed experiment, call this nothing, say it never existed, it doesn’t matter. It’s done.” 

“No,” you shake your head, grabbing your jacket, brushing past him when he tries to stop you, his hand brushing your shoulder — and you knew what he would do again — ply you with kisses, whisper sweet lies that covered the bitter truth, patching shreds that fell to pieces—  “no, mi amor—” 

“Don’t call me that,” you whirl around, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes — but you hoped your words stung more, “don’t call me that when you never loved me.” 

And they did. 

He whispers your name, “Please—” 

“I can’t do this,” you shake him off, walking out the door, “not now.”

And maybe not ever. 

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagines #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi fanfiction #sonny carisi imagines #svu imagines #svu fanfiction #law and order svu

[spnfanficpond]

The Risks and Challenges of Publishing Part 2: Someone hated it. Now what?

You did the brave thing and put your work out there for everyone to see. Some folks liked it, and that’s great! However, someone didn’t like it and decided to tell you all about how and why they didn’t like it. Maybe they replied directly to your post, or maybe they went out of their way to send a message directly to you. Maybe they even went so far as to send you a message detailing every reason why you are a terrible person for even having created the thing you created. 

Basically, someone hated what you created. Now what?

In the retail world, the saying goes, “The customer is always right.” Now, anyone who has ever worked retail knows that is not actually the case, but it’s always best to act as if it is. Online art communities are different from retail, though, and your responses can be different because of it. (More below the cut)

Above all, if you don’t feel capable of responding to a piece of feedback politely, it’s better to simply not respond.

It’s okay to be hurt or upset by negative feedback, but you never want to take that hurt and dish it back out to your audience. Address it privately with your personal support networks and work out your hurt and frustration with them. No matter how satisfying or vindicating it might feel to give a rude person a lesson in being polite, it will only encourage those who like causing drama to send more negative feedback. In short, don’t feed the trolls!

If the feedback you’re receiving is well-meaning, and you feel you want to respond politely, that’s why we’re here. To go into how to respond to negative comments, we need to separate them by the type of negative comment you’ve received. There are a few basic types of comments, and each one comes from a different type of person and has a different meaning, both to them and you.

“You’ve got a typo,” vs. “That’s not canonically correct.”

These two comments may seem different, but they usually come from about the same place, just from different kinds of people. Both comments are meant to be constructive criticism, provided to help you become a better writer or quickly fix a (relatively) small mistake. The consumers providing this response genuinely want to help you improve your work. 

The difference is that a typo is a harmless mistake while creating something that goes against canon is usually intentional. It’s possible that a consumer pointing out something that goes against canon genuinely thinks this was a mistake on your part, and you should treat all of these comments as if this is the case. A consumer pointing out that something goes against canon is sometimes someone who feels the need to make everyone stick to what they think is right. When they see someone interpreting the story they love in a way that goes against how they interpret the story, it upsets them, and they feel the need to correct it. Be gentle with these folks because they actually do mean well.

Good responses would be something like, “Thanks for pointing out that typo! I’m so embarrassed I missed that!” or, “Thanks for your comment! Yes, it is against canon, but I changed [this particular aspect] to highlight [this other thing over here]. I’m sorry if I confused you, and I hope this clears things up!” Basically, always be thankful and apologetic because these people are your best audience. They want to see you succeed, and sending feedback like this shows that they are invested in you. This is their way of supporting you!

“Why didn’t you make this story/your art [this other way]?”

This is another type of comment that can be taken two ways, and we encourage you to try and take it kindly. Yes, some commenters do not mean it in a nice way, but not everyone is like that. 

No matter the intentions of the person asking, this kind of response to your hard work can be hurtful. As we said before, you should do your best not to hurt them back. This could be one of your most loyal readers who just doesn’t understand that this question is hurtful. If the question is worded politely with respect, do your best to swallow your hurt before responding. 

Contrary to how you may feel when hit with it, this type of feedback doesn’t require a solution. You don’t need to rewrite your story for this person or explain your reasoning for the way your story went. “Thanks for the feedback. I’m sorry you didn’t like it. Hope you like the next story!” No more is needed.

If you want to do more, you certainly can! You can defend your choices, tell them that you would be okay with them creating their own version (fan works of your fan works? SCORE!), or even recreate an alternate version of your work if their comments inspire you! All of this is over and above what is necessary, though, and you shouldn’t feel pressured to do any of it. Whatever you feel most comfortable doing is fine.

“Your writing/art sucks and this is a terrible story/piece.”

This kind of feedback takes us back to the top of this post, where we said, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all!” Generally, the person sending this kind of feedback is not well-meaning and simply wants to get a rise out of you. They are not invested in making your work better and this is in no way constructive criticism. The best response to this is no response at all. Delete it and forget about it.

Can’t forget about it? Talk it over with your friends and other writers to work out why it bothers you so much. Maybe they made a point in their hateful tirade that you think might be valid? Your friends and fellow writers will help you work through any soft spots you have and strengthen you and your work in the future.

“Because you wrote/made this, you suck.”

There is no possible well-meaning person behind this kind of message. Nothing you could say in any response would change this person’s mind. In fact, any response you make will only embolden them to send more feedback in this vein. The only healthy way to deal with a message like this is to delete it and forget it existed. If the message seems threatening, you may want to consider reporting it to whatever site the message was sent via (Tumblr, AO3, etc.), but otherwise, random hate like this requires no action from you other than deleting it. It’s not personal, no matter how personal it might feel, and has more to say about the sender than it does about you. Throw it in the trash, treat yourself to something nice, and smile knowing that you’re living your best life while they are wallowing in hate.

Hopefully, this has helped you find a polite and respectful way to deal with negative feedback. If you have any tips or questions about any of this, please reply to or reblog with your comments! Sharing is how we all learn!

#pond originals #writer resources #publishing #feedback #tumblr tips

[davidfarland]

Over twenty-five years ago I began editing professionally. I began by doing volunteer work as an editor for literary magazines, but my first job was for Brigham Young University, where I helped professors raise their work to publishable levels. Many of the people I worked with were scholars with tremendous expertise in their field of study but often they were not practiced writers. Some of them weren’t even native English speakers. So I helped edit articles, textbooks, history books, self-help books, novels, short stories, pamphlets and funding proposals.

Later I went on to editing technical manuals, and from there moved into fiction editing—both short stories and novels. Even when I'm not editing professionally, a day doesn’t go by that I don’t exercise my skills in one way or another.

The past few years, I’ve taught workshops on “Novel Editing.” In the workshop, I edit the first 100 pages of one's work, then teach novelists who are seriously trying to break into the market.

Here are some key points that I wanted my writers to take away.

In most writing groups, authors get a lot of feedback on the errors in their work, but don’t get much feedback on how to actually improve it. As a result, new authors focus on eradicating errors. So what they end up with is a novel that is pretty much unobjectionable. But that’s rather damning. You don’t want to be “okay,” you want your work to be great.

If you want to apply to become an Apex writer, simply send an email to [email protected] with the word APEX.

So in your rewrites, take the opportunity to add as many virtues to your work as possible.

Does your novel suffer from weak descriptions? In your first pass, put those descriptions in.

Would your work benefit by having stronger hooks at the opening to each chapter? Make a pass and put in some great hooks.

Could your novel be better if your character had a more distinctive voice, or if you showed more internal dialog? You can make your novel better in each pass.

Do you need to make your characters more decisive, or show their internal pain? Those can be handled in editing passes.

The truth is that there is so much to do to write a good novel, that many novelists find that it is better to focus on it in several passes, in just the same way that a painter creates a masterpiece by laying down the paint in a dozen layers, letting each one dry before working on it again.

Sure, you might find some weaknesses when you’re editing, but you should be more concerned with adding virtues.

Some authors naturally do one or two things really well. For example, Shannon Hale has a gift for creating gorgeous metaphors, and her use of language is lyrical and beautiful. Tolkien had a gift for world creation that was pretty much unequaled at his time. Orson Scott Card is fantastic at creating gripping arguments, showing penetrating insights into his characters’ conflicts. I love George R. R. Martin’s excellence at creating resonance, or Patrick Rothfus’s command of voice, or Dan Well’s control of tone and his gift for finding fascinating ideas.

But in order to become a bestseller, you normally have to develop a number of skills. On a scale of one to ten, you might look at yourself and ask, where am I? Am I at a five when it comes to creating character voices? Am I only at a one when it comes to world creation? Does my work completely lack hooks or foreshadowing?

If you’re average in most ways but manage to excel in two or three, editors will find you to be publishable. In fact, if you’re excellent at three things, it creates a pattern of excellence, and you’ll probably become a bestseller. That’s all that it takes.

Given that, when I’m editing, I try to work on developing new talents. For example, I might decide that I want to be at least a nine when it comes to creating hooks. Or maybe I’ll try to develop my themes to the point that I can honestly say, “I’ve never seen anyone handle this theme as well as I just did.”

I wish that I could say that there are great editors who can help you reach your loftiest goals. Maybe there are, but they probably don’t work in major publishing houses. Too often, editors for the houses don’t have much real training. Some went into the field with the goal of working as an editor, but I’ve worked with a number who came in from the secretarial pool. I recall one editor who didn’t like reading. Another had never read anything in the field of science fiction when she started, and so asked me for a list of the classics.

An ideal editor, I think, would need to have a profound understanding of story. She or he would have studied with great writers, read widely in literature, and she’d prosper due to her ability to take good writers and help turn them into great ones.

Most of the editors that I’ve worked with aren’t writers. They may be good readers and even good critics, but they have no experience with actually creating stories, and I think that can be a weakness.

So what does a writer do? Just hoping that you’ll find a great editor isn’t quite enough. You’ll have to find your own wise readers and critics and learn from them. For example, if you find a writer that you admire, you might look on his or her web site and see if the author has any articles that might enlighten you as to how to better your own work. You might even take a class, if the author is teaching at a local convention, and arrange to take that writer out to lunch in order to glean some private advice.

Similarly, there are plenty of great books on writing, and for a small investment, you get hours worth of thoughtful instruction on the topic of your choice from an expert in that field.

Beyond that, look for people with expertise and invite them to join your writer’s group, or perhaps become a reader. If you look at Tolkien and Lewis, I have to wonder if either would have succeeded so well without the Inklings. Tolkien was a great world creator. Lewis was the pre-eminent master of theme. Each of them, I suspect, pushed the other to greater heights.

Look for people who can push you in the same way.

It is possible to hire editors, of course, and if you’re self-publishing, you should. Some professional fiction editors take on part-time work--after all, the field is notorious for its low pay. You can find people listed in the back of Writer’s Digest, or advertising online. You can also go to your local newspaper or to a magazine and find people. It isn’t usually enough to hire one editor—I often use three. Even after all of my years of practice (and in my performance reviews, I was told over and over again that I am a sensational editor), I still don’t capture my own typos. No one does.

Just as importantly, work on finding volunteer readers for your books. If you’re writing fantasy, see if you can find a few fans that would take a look at it and give an honest opinion. If you’re writing for children, check with an English teacher at a nearby school to see if you can find some volunteer readers. Don’t think that just because you haven’t published, people won’t be interested. The fact is, most people will be very enthusiastic in their response.

Need More help? I'm a New York Times Bestselling author with over 60 books published.  I've put together a bundle of all my writing courses for a special price here.

#writing #writer #writing tip #writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writing lesson #writing lessons #writing advice #writing help #writing helps #author #editor #writing reference #writerblr #writeblr #fanfic #fanfiction #nanowrimo #editing #magic systems

[silvysartfulness]

For the ask game: 6 & 18 - 18 because I'm bad at commenting. I'm so overflowing with love after reading even rereading your fic, there are 1000 thoughts in my head but all that gets out into the comment text box is 'GOOD (heart emoji, heart emoji)'.

6: What are some topics you will never write about?

Hmmm... I don't think there are any topics I would never write about. There are many that don't particularly interest me, but that doesn't mean it's impossible some character or story will come along one day and present a good angle! I think any topic, no matter how complicated, can be fascinating and add depth and insight to your characters and your story.

If we're talking tropes, though, I doubt I'll ever write mpreg or rpf. Mpreg rather squicks me, and while I know a lot of people enjoy it, I personally think Real People Fiction is rather disrespectful and objectifying. Exploring topics in fiction is one thing, but crossing that line to involve real, living people is not something I would do. Maybe because I had things happen in my youth where my family ended up written about in newspapers, albeit without names mentioned, and since we and those who knew us refused to talk to the papers ourselves, 90% of what they wrote were made-up lies, exaggerated and made awful for sensation-value... We had to live with that for years after, even after moving towns, and those rumours still raise their heads at times, decades later. Making things up about real people... It isn't fun, it isn't a game, and you honestly don't know who you may end up hurting or make deeply uncomfortable because of it.

18: Do you feel like your work gets enough recognition? What kind of feedback do you like to receive?

I am so grateful for all feedback I get! It means the world to me, it's the fuel that keeps me inspired and motivated to work through my chronic fatigue to create more!

The very best comments are the ones that ask questions, genuinely wanting answers, comments that spark interaction and dialogue! That is so rewarding and inspiring! That's why I love Asks about my story so much, because it sometimes turns into long discussions, and it engages all that dopamine and serotonin in my brain!

Same with comments analyzing character reactions and feelings - a lot of my writing focuses on getting emotion across without stating it outright, and when people pick up on all those non-verbal tells, that's catnip!

Comments that tell of the reader's reactions to specific parts are also amazing! What quip made you laugh? What knife made you cry? What tension can't you stand, what bit surprised you?

Comments pointing out certain words or sentences are also really rewarding - I know I have achieved a certain 'voice' in my prose after all my years of reading and writing, and I'm honestly very proud of it? Something almost poetic at times, occasionally poring for the longest time over which exact word sounds best in a sentence... So people noticing and commenting on that makes me really happy! It's a rather invisible part of the craft, and many people don't really think a lot about the words themselves, only the story they tell - but words and their sounds and meanings have always fascinated me, and I try to handle them as I do colours or textures when I draw, integral to the art itself.

Comments contemplating where the characters and plot are coming from, and where they may be going! That's always super-interesting, too! Comments musing on how the characters interact and how their relationships are changing throughout the story - like I said above, I work a lot with 'show, don't tell' non-verbal cues, and it's always a balance to see if I'm being too blatant or too subtle... So comments talking about the character relationships are a litmus test to let me know whether I managed to get my intended moods across or not!

Long comments are like Christmas come early! Nothing makes me perk up more than opening an AO3 notification mail to see a comment long enough to vanish off the page! Doesn't matter how rambly or repetitive, just the fact that someone was invested enough to sit down and write all that makes me so happy I sometimes tear up a bit! But a one-sentence comment asking a really interesting question, or noticing a super-subtle Easter Egg or such can be every bit as memorable!

So to sum it up - complements are very nice and appreciated, but what really makes me happy, and helps kickstart my inspiration to go write more, is people engaging with the story I'm telling! The characters, their emotions, the reader's emotions, the thoughts and guesses of where things are headed, recollecting things from earlier chapters and how it affects the present, and possible future...

I've lived this story for over a year now, spending so much of every waking moment on it, and that kind of engagement and feedback is the payoff! It's what gives me a sense of meaning and joy when life is rough, and I am so, so grateful for the amazing people who have chosen to come along on this journey with me, offering encouragement along the way. You are everything. ♥

#asksilvy #the happy songxuexiao roadtrip story #long post

[jawritter]

You and Me...

Chapter 23 FINAL CHAPTER

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non con, male!rape, injury, violence, discription of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self harm, panick attackes, implied female non con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chatper Warnings***  Memory of flashback, panic attack, breif discription of panic attack. the feels, all the feels, some fluff in there too, the worst part of this chapter is the flashback, and maybe some language, I don’t want to give to much away lol.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 3k

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine!, Please do not copy my work!! Feedback is gold! I hope you enjoy this one! (flashback is in italics). The is the final chapter, and man this was a journey for me, I hope you all enjoyed reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Summery: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter you course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getthing through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

Taking the last leg of your journey in one day, the two of you pulled into Seattle somewhere around 7pm, three days after the two of you had left Austin. 

The night you had spent in Salt Lake City together had stretched into the early morning hours. You'd never felt so close to someone. So in love with someone. 

You couldn't believe that soon enough you'd be Mrs. Ackles. It didn't seem real. 

You watch through the windshield as your soon to be husband checked into the Shafer Baillie Mansion Bed and Breakfast. A beautiful bed and breakfast in Seattle, Washington. He'd planned this whole trip down to the last tinny little detail. Stopping at little stops along the way. All the time just spent getting to know each other. Getting closer than you'd ever been with each other. 

He paid the young lady at the front desk area that they had set up for check-ins. Then came walking out of the building. He'd enjoyed himself these last three days. You could tell. He just seemed to be over the moon since you’d left Salt Lake City, but watching him walk out to the car tonight, you could tell he was tired.

"Everything okay babe?" you asked, opened your car door for you, and grabbed your bags from the trunk. 

"Yeah, I'm just tired." he said, walking by you and pecking you on the cheek before you both head inside. 

He did look tired, but you couldn't help but worry that the reason he was acting this way was because you were so close to Vancouver. 

So close to doing what he feared doing the most. 

He loved shooting Supernatural. Often he said he felt lost when it was over, like a part of him was missing. Still there were new fears for him as he made this journey. Things and triggers that he didn't have to fight before. 

Getting into the room, and getting your thing settled. He turned and flopped himself down on the bed. Groaning a little when he was finally laying flat. Stretching his arms over his head. You sit down next to him and start rubbing his chest through his thin T-Shirt. 

"You sure you okay babe?" you asked him, laying down next to him. Cuddling into his shoulder, and rubbing your hand over his chest. 

"Yeah I'm okay, I just got a lot of memories that I'm fighting right now." he said, smiling at you a little. "I haven't been this close to Canada since I locked the door to my apartment, and headed back to Austin the day after we shot the last scene on Supernatural."

You wrapped your arms around him tighter, letting him relax into you. 

"It was a part of my life that I thought was close. That I'd left behind me. Not that I'm not grateful, and glad for another opportunity to do this, I guess I'm just afraid of the outcome. I don't want the show to wash out like some of the other comeback shows have. I've invested too much time into this to watch it fail." He said, rolling over to his side so that he could play with your hair.

“You guys are going to be just fine, you don’t have anything to worry about.” you tell him, watching as his eyes became heavy while you carded your hand through his hair. 

“Let’s just order some take out tonight, I’m exhausted.” he mumbled as his eyes closed, and his breathing became heavier. 

You leaned down, and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Okay baby.” 

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The next morning the two of you found yourself pulling into the parking lot of the Supernatural set. This is where he was going to be leaving the car that you two had driven up here to be auctioned off for charity. 

Cliff had left a black SUV here for the two of you to use while you were here. 

You only had to be in Canada a few days to look for, and sign some paperwork on an apartment that Jensen was looking into getting. His old apartment. So it shouldn’t be a problem. 

"So, I take it we're flying home then?" You asked him as you both got into the SUV. 

"Oh yeah. I don't think I'm that spunkie to make another three day drive back to Austin." Jensen said with a laugh before closing the door he looked around. There seemed to be no one else here. 

Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel a moment, Jensen then got out of the car, and looked around while leaning on the door. 

"What are you doing?" you asked him, opening your door, and watching him closely as he walked up to the gate. Pulling out the key card that Clif had given him to open the security gate again. 

"Come on I wanna show you some things, from what they tell me, all the old sets are still standing." he said, eyes bright with mischief. 

"Well wait for me!" you yell at him as you run after him into the set. 

The two of you walked through different sets that were still standing. Even after all this time. Even though it had only been about a year and a half it was still a little creepy to you. It looked old and abandoned. Which didn’t help the creepy factor at all. 

Jensen walked around with your hand in his, telling you different stories and memories from his time spent on the show.  

"Our trailers used to be parked over there. That's where the makeup and wardrobe trailer was. That's where they usually had the food tent. That Wearhouse over there is where they kept the Impala's. Those I know they took when the show ended. There's no need to look there.” He said, walking around like he knew exactly where he was going. Just like it had all just shut down today. A far off look in his eyes as memories flooded their way though his mind. 

Finally coming to a big mettle building he stopped, pulled out his keys again. 

"This should be it." He said, trying different keys. You stood there in silence as he worked. A little nervous about what awaited you on the other side of the door. Finally you heard the lock click as he opened it for the first time in over a year. 

The mettle door scraped the ground loudly as it  opened with a loud creaking sound that seemed to echo throughout the entire lot. Turning on the light on the phone he looked in. 

"Yep, this is it." He said, walking into a dark room only lit by his phone. There was red wallpaper, a fireplace, a desk, and an attached kitchen. Different things you couldn't see in the dark that he seemed to be able to make out easily. 

"Jensen where is this supposed to be?" you asked him as he came back over to where you were standing. 

"Bobby's old house. The living room and the kitchen. Man I spent a lot of time here." he said, looking around almost like he was going to cry. Reaching over standing in the middle of the mostly dark room Jensen reached his arms around your waist, and pulled you as close to him as he could. 

"Thank you for coming to do this with me." he whispered into your ear as he held you. "I needed this. I needed to remember what it was like to be here. What it was like to do this again. I needed to remind myself how much I missed it." He said. 

Turning you brought your lips up to meet his.

 "I told you almost a year ago, no matter what happens. It's you and me remember?" you asked him. He kissed you passionately. 

"Yeah.. You and me." he said, before leading you out of the building. Locking doors on his way as he made his way out to the car that was waiting for the two of you. 

It'd been a long year. A lot of hardships, and recovery from things that should have never happened. This time you felt like the winds of change were blowing in the favor of the two of you. This was the beginning of something good. It had to be. You'd both been through too much to have something go south again. You were both do for some good karma. 

Somethings people were just meant to do. Playing Dean Winchester, you felt, was just that for Jensen. It was what he was always meant to do from the very beginning.

----------------------------------------------------------

**Time jump seven years later**

Jensen's POV:

The stage lights were shining horribly bright in Dallas as Jensen and Jared tried to see the person standing off to the right side of the stage. It felt like they were miles away from the individual that was waiting to ask them a question.

"Hi!" Jared said. "I think there may be a person over here?"

The crowd chucked for a moment.

"What's your question?" Jensen said with a chuckle.

This never gets old. He could do it over and over again, it will always be his favorite thing to do. Getting to interact with his fans. Even though it could get a little stressful and tiresome at times, it was worth every hour of sleep missed.

"Hi! My question is for Jensen! You guys stopped filming the last season of Supernatural in its 20th season. These conventions are still going even though the new seasons have stopped. Did you guys see that coming, or was it something that came as a surprise to you?" she said.

She seemed older, and more confident than the fans that normally came to the microphone to ask them a question.

"No, we didn't see it coming. We thought well, the show is over, and the conventions will stop, but people just kept asking us to come, even offering to host these things in new cities. It's still growing even though we've finally put Sam and Dean to rest. This show is STILL impacting people's lives, and we couldn't be more blessed to have you guys. Without all of you these things wouldn't be happening, and wouldn't still be possible. So thank you." he said into the mic.

The crowd cheered as usual. More questions went through the mics. After all these years people were still coming up with good questions, which was impressive. When the show was over they were able to kind of give their own opinions so that put a new spin on things every year.

"Hi" Jared said, the girl that was standing on his side of the stage.

"Hi..." she fumbled nervously with her shirt. "My question is for Jensen," she stuttered into the mic.

"What is up with you getting all the questions today?!" Jared retorted into the mic. Jensen just smiled, and winked at the crowd.

"My home town dude, what did you expect." 

A soft laugh went through the crowd.

"What's your question?" they said together, causing a laugh to erupt through the crowd again.

"Over the years you have become a large advocate for people who are recovering from violent tramas... You know... similar to what you went through.... How did you get to the place you could talk about that... and do it so in a way that it doesn't trigger you anymore?" she asked, looking at her feet more than she looked at him.

He knew immediately that she'd been through a similar thing. Her body language screamed it for her.

After all these years he'd learned the tale signs.

The way she avoided eye contact with anyone. The way she shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, fidgeting, unable to stand still. Keeping an odd distance from all the other people that were standing around her.

He couldn't help the memories that flooded through his mind. All the milestones that he and y/n had made with each other's help. All the years that he had to struggle. Even though the attack was years behind him. The triggers that sometimes still came out of nowhere. The nightmares that haunted him for years before finally going away. For him though, his therapy had become helping other people that had gone through similar things.

One of the worst panic attacks he'd ever had was the first time Dean had to be tied to a chair by a monster they were hunting.

---------------------------------------------

"Babe, if you can't do this it's okay. Just tell the writers, and I'm sure they can work around it." y/n said, wrapping her arms around his shaking frame. He'd been up two days dreading this scene. He knew it would happen eventually. He knew he'd have to face this.

"No, I'm doing this. I'm tired of people treating me like I'm fragile and shit. I can do this. I just got to balls up and do it." he said, working himself up like a football player before a difficult play.

"Jensen, it's time." The props girl said, coming over to the side of the set where the two of you were standing.

Jensen walked over to the chair. He wondered for a moment if this is what people felt like walking up to the electric chair. Sitting down they started to put the ropes around his wrist. Immediately the flash backs started, but he fought against them. He was already starting to sweat. Pushing painful memories down he tried not to dwell on what felt so real going on in your mind.

Y/n was kneeling down in front of him, her hand on his knee.

"Please baby, don't do this. I can tell you're struggling already. Don't do this." you begged him. Jensen was determined though. He was going to get past this, he had too.

"No. No, I can do it." he said through gritted teeth.

The director yelled for everyone to clear the set. Y/n Leaned down, and kissed his cheek before turning to walk away. As soon as she left the shaking started to get worse, that tightening feeling in his chest becoming almost unbearable.

They yelled for quiet on the set. It was getting hard to breathe and the room around him seemed to be spinning, everything sounded distant in an uncomfortable way, and Jensen could have sworn his tongue was glued to the roof of his extremely dry mouth. J

ensen looked over to y/n and Jared who were standing on the other side of the directors chair. Watching with worried faces.

That's never happened with a panic attack before.

Normally he knew when they were starting, and was able to take control of them by now. Even though he knew this was nothing but a panic attack. It was threatening to overtake him quickly.

"Action!"

The monster who was supposed to be a werewolf walked over to him sensually, her long nails dragged across the table as Dean struggled with his restraints. She was going through her lines. Salturing over she ran her finger nails down Dean's chest, just like the script instructed her to do. His body jerked hard in response. It was getting hard to stay in the present. To stay focused.

She picked up the knife laying on the table next to him.

"I should gut you right here. Leave you scattered all over the room for your precious Sammy to find when he finally gets here. After what you did to my sister." She sneers in his face, and puts the knife up to his throat.

The room went black.

--------------------------------------------------

That was the worst flashback/ panic attack he'd ever had. It was so bad it triggered a seizure. It took weeks to recover from that one. He wasn't allowed to be tied to any more chairs.

Jensen felt Jared slap you on the shoulder and bring you back to the present. He was smiling at him reassuringly. Jensen looked over to the side of the stage that the family and friends usually sat at. You were sitting there smiling at him.

"It took me a long time to get to the point I could do this. I still have bad days. I still get triggers. Sometimes without warning. I had to learn the hard way that what happened to me does define me. I'm not a victim unless I chose to be. My biggest therapy was learning how to share what happened to me with others. To help others get through some of the same things that I went through. I'm not fully recovered even though it's been years. I take things one day at a time. I decided that Instead of letting what happened to me control my whole life. I was going to take control, and use it to help others. Now I've spoken everywhere from hospitals, to church youth groups and camps."

Jensen took a deep breath, and looked over at the poor girl standing there hanging on his every word.

"It's been hard. It's never been easy. I'll always have the scars from what was done to me. Even though you can't physically see any. Every day is a blessing to me. I'm thankful for every person that I can touch. If it helps someone else, it makes the struggle worth it. My best piece of advice I can give you is this. It's okay to have bad days, it's okay to feel like shit, it's okay to have days that you can't even look at yourself in the mirror, I know I have. It's all part of the process. Get support. Someone you trust that can help you, I know if I didn't have y/n...I wouldn't be here today. I probably would have succumbed to depression, and you guys would be leaving flowers at my grave site today."

The crowd cheered in response. The girl thanked him and walked back to her seat. He made a mental note to go have her brought back stage so that he could talk to her in private.

"Okay guys I'm getting the signal. We got time to take one more question." Jared said.

Jensen pointed at the girl that was standing off on the other side of the light. "Yes, what's your question."

Your POV:

You sat there watching your husband answer questions, and joke with his friend. It was down to the last question. It was a light question about taking selfies with Misha on the boat. Thank God.

Sure he'd gotten to where questions about what happened to him didn't bother him in the least, but you knew after a while it could be taxing on anyone to have to answer question after question on that subject matter, and you would be glad when this con was over, so that you could go home to Austin for a little while with your husband.

Finally everything was over and Jensen weaved his way over to you. Not bothering even trying to go backstage.

He walked up to you wrapping you in a hug.

"You did great babe." You tell him, and he smiled that smile that damn near knocks you off your feet every time.

"Are you okay? No sign that the baby is coming is there?" he asks, putting his hand on your swollen stomach.

"No. Still safe and sound in there." you tell him, pulling him in to kiss you before he's ushered away from you to the next photo opp.

You were so proud of that man.

You couldn't believe how far he's come since you met him. He was everything you ever wanted and more. You couldn't wait until your baby was born. Part of you hoped that the little boy looked just like his daddy.

Sure a baby at Jensen's age wasn't something that was planned, but life had plans you guys didn't know about, but welcomed when you found out you were going to have a baby. Deciding you would be surprised, and wait to find out the gender, much to the annoyance of Gen, and everyone else that was part of the SPN family.

Life finally was looking up for you guys. Even though Jensen had some bad days. He gets better and better every day.

Just like you had promised him in the beginning you were with him every step of the way.

The picture from your wedding that sat proudly on your mantel in your home had a wood burned carving in it that said. "You and Me."

A constant reminder that no matter what you faced. You'd get through it together.

"You and me. No matter what." you whisper, as your husband walked toward the young girl that was struggling with her question. Stopping the whole progress to the photo op room just because he wanted to talk to her.

He may not be perfect, but to you he was perfect in every way.

Life had changed a lot since you met Jensen all those years ago in that small studio in Austin, Texas.

Even though there were challenges you both had to face, and lessons that you had to learn most normal couples hopefully would never encounter. It didn't destroy you.

It made you stronger.

Yes, there are monsters out there. They walk among us every day. They hurt people, and they do things to people that are down right inhuman and cruel.

Yes, bad things happen to people that don't deserve it.

Living in fear is NOT an option.

Watching Jensen overcome what happened to him was one of the hardest things you ever had to do, hell it changed you both.

Spiritual, mentally, and physically, neither of you would ever be the same.

Now you watched him take what was done to hurt him, to tear him down completely, and build up others. Strangers. People that he owed nothing, but instead let LOVE win.

There's no other person you'd rather spend the rest of your life with, scars and all.

No matter what life throws your way, no matter what may happen tomorrow. You would get through it together.. Just like you always promised.

You and me.

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#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester dark fic #dark!fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean x you #dean x reader #spn fanfiction #spn dark fic #spn fanfic #jensen ackles #jawritter #you and me

[northcarolinanative]

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 / 𝙲𝚑 𝟷 𝟻

Description: John B’s Sister comes home from staying with their mom, only to find out that her brother is missing and her dad was murdered. JJ may have just lost his best friend. Her and JJ have to figure out what to do and how to pick up the pieces.

A/N: Hi!! I love this chapter because I think that the relationship between Kie and the Reader needed to be mended and I really wanted the Pogues to be more involved in the hunt for JB and Sarah. I’m hoping that things will pick up soon:) As always my asks/requests/messages are open and let me know ANY feedback that you have for the series or anything that you would like to see:)

Need to Catch Up? Collision MasterList

I pushed open the back door to The Wreck where I saw the rest of the pogues sitting at the wooden picnic table. JJ has his back to me sitting on the picnic table while Kie was looking down at Pope, his face in her hand making him look at her. Their position confused me, but as I got closer I noticed the towel that she had pulled away from Pope’s face was now covered in red. I sped up, jogging the rest of the way trying to assess the situation. 

When I walked up to My eyes scanned over both boys who looked to have been beaten and was bloodied. I looked over at Pope seeing his eye beginning to swell and the blood Kie was wiping from his mouth. Then I turned to JJ, who spit to the side of the table before smiling at me. My stomach dropped when I saw the red that clung to his teeth. “What the hell happened?” I asked the group before handing JJ a bottle of water from my bag. 

Kie looked between the two boys before handing me an extra damp towel and nodding to JJ. He rolled his eyes as I grabbed his face, making him look at me. I pressed the towel across his bottom lip, where the source of the blood seemed to be coming from. I was standing between his legs as he looked straight at me, his hands resting on his own knees but letting his fingers trace the outside of my thighs. There it was again, the constant reassuring touches. After our fight last night we had both missed them. I swear when it came to JJ I was hypersensitive to how close we were, how we spoke to each other, or even now, how his fingers were tracing mindless patterns into the back of my legs as I stood in between his. The moment felt way too intimate to have our two best friends just to the side of us. Us both apologizing without really saying it. I could feel Kie and Pope’s eyes on the two of us. 

Kie was the first to break the silence and push the two for answers. “So y’all just gonna keep secrets now? Rember no secrets between Pogues, what the hell happened?”

I continued to wipe off the blood from JJ’s face till he pushed my hand down so he could speak. “Ward Cameron.” He said, looking at Pope, who just continued to look down, staying quiet. “They had to be working with him, just like the other two groupers were.” He shook his head. 

“Ward Cameron?” I exclaimed. I saw JJ wince slightly at my volume. “He should be rotting in a jail cell along with his son,” I mumbled under my breath. 

“What were they looking for? Did they say anything?” Kie questioned as she looked between the two boys. JJ looked down at the ground, his jaw was clenched and tight. 

“You’re gonna be mad” was all he said. I directed my eyes to Pope, raising my eyebrows at him. 

“They took the maps and stuff that Kie and I saw when we came to the Chateau.” This caused Kie to snap her head in my direction, looking at me with confusion on her face. “The guys had masks on but they didn’t look too old, they definitely weren’t adults. They said something about avenging Peterkin, getting John B for what he did.” This caused my breath to hitch in my throat. I tried to breathe normally as to not alert JJ. “Like I said, probably just a scare tactic from Ward.” 

“Why would they be looking for that?” She said moving to take the cloth from my hand. I let her take it looking to move at JJ. His words ringing in my ears louder than what either of the other two had said. 

I lowered my voice, hoping to give us the slightest bit of privacy in front of our friends. Kie continued to pack up the first aid kit. I knew that they both could hear us, but I did not really care. “JJ look at me, please?” I whispered softly. I put my hand under his chin. I felt my face soften as I ghosted my fingers over the bruising skin of his jaw. Part of me wondered if there would ever be a time that would see him without bruises or scabs littering his body. “I’m not angry with you. I could never be angry with you over something like this, okay?” 

JJ nodded his head. I could see the faraway look in his eyes telling me that he was still worried about it. “They didn’t take anything helpful though.” I smiled at him backing away from the group. JJ looked at me, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he watched me grab my backpack. I sat at the table, facing the water. I patted the seat next to me, signaling him to sit down. He rounded the table, Kie and Pope taking their seats on the other side of the wooden picnic table, as I pulled out my notebook and laptop. I sorted through, flipping the pages until I found the page with all my research questions. While I didn’t want to involve Kie and Pope or get their hopes up like JJ and I’s, Pope had just got jumped because of this, he had a right to know. 

I pulled the group of papers that I had taken from the Chateau that morning. I handed them to JJ, a smile plastering both of our faces. “You think I needed to use the internet to check my Instagram?” I laughed at him. 

JJ wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. He squeezed me so tight that I felt the air leave my body. I just giggled, “J, I can’t breathe.” 

Pulling back he had his hand on my shoulder, “I stand by my statement, you are a genius.” 

I started to open the computer and typed in my password. JJ began to answer Pope and Kie’s questions about the maps and what we had found so far. Kie was obviously shocked at how far we had made it into finding them. Pope was in deep thought though. I should have known that he would have answers to most of our problems, being the brains of the group. 

The group was invested in different endeavors as we worked for a good amount of time. JJ helped me sift through our notes and codes, when he wasn’t messing around and goofing off with Kie. Kie kept us supplied with baskets of fries and a pitcher of sweet tea, and Pope was working on a scholarship essay. He was upset that he lost the big one, but he was determined to rack up as many smaller one as he could. I was looking up the cargo ships complete path. I typed the number into the freight liners public record archive. I looked at it, seeing that it went to Nassau. I tapped JJ’s shoulder. “It says here that the ship did in fact make it to Nassau. This is the port number.” I said pointing to the screen as JJ. He wrote down the number as fry came flying across the table, no doubt from Kie as we both laughed. 

JJ was in the middle of his story about the night we figured out which ship was which. He had left out the part about our kiss, but his hand on my thigh under the table let me know that he remembered. I had spent the last hour scouring the internet for news articles of the past week on the island that the ship docked at. Looking for any sign of “Two runaway teens” or “Two Americans found onboard cargo ships”. I knew that it wasn’t super feasible, but it was something right? I let my frustration take over me. I unintentionally cut JJ off, putting my hands over my face, letting out a groan. “I’m not finding anything.” I let my head fall to hit the table beside my computer. 

JJ wrapped an arm around me pulling me up. “Don’t do that, you’ll give yourself a concussion.” He laughed, causing me to roll my eyes. 

“You’ve been at it for hours.” Kie started standing up. “Why don’t you take a break and walk with me down to the water? Let JJ actually do some work on it.” She held her hand out to me. I took it as JJ scoffed, fainting offense, but turned the computer towards himself and began reading the screen. 

Kie and I walked in silence away from the two boys, enjoying the walk to the water. The water had always been a calming place for me, something about it helped me to clear my head. I slipped my sandals off as we reached the end of the boardwalk. 

“So,” Kie began. I looked in her direction. The wind whipping our hair around with its harshness. “You and JJ?” She stated, her tone questioning me. 

I shrugged my shoulder. “I have no idea,” I stated. I really didn’t. 

“He’s different around you.” She said as we reached the edge of the surf. The cold water reached us, covering only the tops of our feet before it was pulled back into the ocean. 

“What do you mean?” I asked. I watched her face as she looked out over the horizon of the water. 

“He’s softer with you, more gentle.” She said with a small laugh. “Don’t think I didn’t see you getting all soft either when you got here. Has something happened between you?” 

She smiled at me, causing me to blush. “It’s like we know how we feel about each other, but we haven’t exactly said it. We’ve kissed like twice, but every time-” 

Kie cut me off playfully hitting me in the shoulder. “You’re kidding me!” She laughed causing me to laugh with her. “If we find John B he’s gonna flip his shit.” She said. I felt my smile falter. 

“See that’s it Kie.” She took a step back as my tone changed. “There’s so much going on with him right now between Barry, his restitution, he hasn’t even mentioned his dad, and then us on our hunt for JB, it’s a lot you know?” I let out a deep breath.”What if it isn’t real, and we’re distracting each other or something?” I paused. “I want it to be real though.”  It felt nice to get it all off the chest. 

Kie hesitated before answering. “You know, if it counts for anything, I think the two of you are good for each other. JJ hasn’t done anything utterly stupid since you got back into to town. And you seem happier when he’s around.” I smiled and nodded at her, silently saying thank you. There was a small pause before she started talking again. “Where’d you go after your shift this morning?”

I took in a deep breath, what Topper had told me earlier was weighing heavy on my conscience after what JJ and Pope told me about the ‘groupers’.  “Topper asked to talk to me after my shift. I went out to the parking lot and he was waiting for me. After everything JJ told me about how he helped John B, I figured I’d give him a shot.” 

She turned to look at me and her eyes were wide. “You are full of surprises today, aren't you?” 

“I guess so.” I laughed reaching down to pick up a shell that was rolling across the sand under the surf. “He said that Rafe has lost it. He’s so far in a drug haze that he’s hallucinating Peterkin, saying that he has to get justice for her. He said he believes us and that we need to watch out for Rafe.” 

“Do you believe him?” She asks. We both silently agree to start heading back up the beach toward the restaurant. 

“Partially yes. I don’t think that he has a reason to lie about Rafe, I definitely think we need to have our eyes out for him, but we knew that already.” We both let out a sarcastic chuckle. “He said that he wants to help us find John B and Sarah, but I’m not gonna tell him shit. I think he just wants to find Sarah because he’s still obsessed with her. I think he wants her back and will throw John B under the bus if he needs to.” I sighed as we washed our feet off and slipped our shoes back on. I let my hand slide along the sadly wooden railing as we walked. “I just wanted to keep him close in case we did need something.” 

“See that’s why you and Pope are the brains of this whole thing because I probably would have told him to go to hell and never come back.” She laughed. 

We approached the table to see both JJ and Pope, hunched over the laptop on the table, very focused on the screen. “What’s going on here? You two couldn’t have possibly managed to find something.” Kie laughed as I walked around to look over JJ’s shoulder. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders pulling him close to me, relieved when he leaned back into my touch. 

“Actually, we might have,” Pope said looking over his shoulder at me and JJ, smiling. 

Masterlist

Taglist (if you wanna be added PLEAS send me an ASK:)) : @nikki082489 @lovelymaybankk @dolanfivsosxox @alexa-playafricabytoto @downbytheouterbanks @heyhargrove @heywards​ @kayln021 @readysteadygo23​ @im-a-stranger-thing​ @thatsonobx​ @dumbxgurl​ @ameeraaa21@zehnuhrfunf​ @imagines-and-preferences1216​ @mileven-reddie​ @sw-eat-ing​ @tangledinsparkles @shawnssongs @karleeluv @rockyyc77​ @omigodyall @whoreforouterbanks @bqbyl0n @hmsjiara​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @softstarkey​ @summerintheobx

#jj outer banks #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outerbanks imagine #outer banks netflix #outerbanks #outerbanks netflix #obx #obx imagine #jj maybank #jj fic #jj imagine #jj x reader #rudy pank #rudeth #kiara cerrara #kiara cerrara imagine #pope heyward #pope fic #pope imagine #pope heyward imagine #john b routledge #john b imagine #john b sister #john booker routledge #routledge!reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x you #maybank

[ailec-12]

Out of curiosity: 1) Do you hate it when people ask you for an update on a wip? 2)what story do you think is the most loved by its readers out of all the ones you’ve written? 3) what story do you personally love the most?4) which do you think you pay the most attention to? 6) Do you think setting up a schedule for posting is more beneficial (as it’s good to set goals for yourself) or harmful (since it makes you write when you don’t want to)

Such interesting questions. *o* Thanks!

1) Mm, short answer: No, I don't hate it; generally, I don't mind and, sometimes, I like it. In the end, asking for updates means that people are interested in the story, but if the only feedback you get is variations of "more please," it gets old really fast.

In my case, whether I see this as interest or just a demand really depends on my own circumstances at the moment —which are out of the reader's control and knowledge— and the way the request is worded. For instance, if I've been working on the story recently and I get the "When are you going to update" type of message, I'll likely feel excited because oh boy, you got no idea what you have coming. If I'm in the middle of a writer's block, though, it can be a reminder that it's been a long time since I wrote for that story and I have no clue when I'll be able to update it. Of course, this isn't the reader's fault, so I'll remind myself that they're actually showing interest and answer truthfully.

Moreover, if a reader leaves a comment saying something positive about the story in addition to "can't wait to keep reading/hope you update soon," it never feels like they're asking for an update. I only feel their excitement and it really boosts me up. However, if the comment is only "update soon" or "when's the next update," it can indeed come across as demanding. I understand why other writers may get fed up with this kind of comments, but for me it's not really a big deal. I answer and move on.

What I do hate is people telling me they'd assumed I'd abandoned a WIP or even stating I'll abandon it eventually after having said several times I won't. I know people don't need to believe me, but I wonder what else they possibly expect me to answer.

2) Without a doubt, my most popular story is House Potter for Children in Need —the others don't come even close—, which is kinda ironic since I started posting it before it was done precisely because I was convinced only a few people would be interested in it. xD I don't regret it, though. I'm thrilled this fic has touched so many people.

3) I think my best written story is House Potter, just because it's the latest one, so all I've learnt from writing my other stories is (hopefully) reflected in it. It's a really complex and ambitious project and I'm loving the challenge. Yet, it's a tie between it and the Greenie series. Despite all the things that could be improved, the latter lived in my head rent free for over five years. I can see my own evolution as a writer and an English speaker when I read it and posting it was also a very rewarding experience.

4) Do you mean in terms of stats or when writing? In terms of stats, I'm much more likely to notice who leaves kudos or how the hit count goes up in my least popular stories, particularly December 17th and Of Heroes and Love. When writing, House Potter is the most demanding one so far, because there's a lot of things I need to take into account.

5) I think posting schedules are really nice for readers, who get something to look forward to. Regular updates help to build an audience, too. It gives the feeling the story won’t be abandoned and so, readers are less afraid to let themselves be invested.

These are, in my experience, general statements about posting schedules. However, whether they are beneficial to the author or not will depend on the author. For me —both as a writer and a reader—, schedules in fanfiction are something that can change or disappear without any guilt whatsoever. We’re all here to have fun! I don’t like the idea of forcing yourself to write if you don’t feel like it —another matter is when you do want to write but you feel blocked. And, even though setting goals for yourself can help with motivation, I daresay these goals should be more oriented towards the writing process itself rather than getting the chapter done and posting it. I don’t have the ability to control the length of my chapters, so it wouldn’t make much sense for me to say “I’ll write a chapter every two weeks” when one chapter might be 3000 words long and another one, 6000. That’s why I only keep posting schedules when the chapters are actually already written and only need editing, because I can estimate better the time they’ll need to be ready.

Hope this satisfies your curiosity, thanks again for dropping by!

#Fic writing #My fics #Ask Ail #anonymous #*

[ljandersen]

2, 5, 17, 20, & 35 for the fic writer asks!

Thank you for all the fun questions!!!  These always get me thinking.  So fun.  By the way, I still love your cat picture icon so much.  He looks like he wants a good pet.  Anyway . . . This is from the Fic Writer Ask Game 

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

This is really variable.  I’d say the biggest determiner is where I’m at in the writing process on my long fic.  The first draft is creatively demanding.  It requires creative intensity and long chunks of alone time.  I’m not posting it at that point, so it’s all at my own pace.  No pressure. I get a lot more fanfic reading done, because I just don’t have the creative energy or environment/situation to invest in writing my first draft.  Instead that time goes to reading.  During the first draft, I’m probably about a 50/50 split between writing and reading.

When I’m in the editing stage, I write more than I read.  I’m posting now, which gives me the added pressure of having a deadline.  Most significantly, though, I can work on editing during periods I previously couldn’t with the first draft -- like after work or when my husband’s doing a loud project or if I only have a small window of time.  Those were periods, I would choose to read fic, because I didn’t have the energy for creativity.  But since editing requires less creativity, I can use that time now for editing.  

For almost a year I’ve been focused exclusively on editing, which means I’ve focused more on writing (editing) than reading fic.  I still do plenty of reading, of course.  It feels good supporting other writers in the community.  But I do use most of my time to keep on editing. 

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

OOC and character bashing are a big nope for me.  This is especially bothersome where they occur together, a character presented as OOC to be bashed. 

I also don’t like unhealthy relationship dynamics portrayed as romantic or hot.  For instance, a character being jealousy, possessive, domineering, and controlling.  I don’t like choking, punishing, or any physical aggressiveness in intimacy occurring without obvious mutual consent, where both partners feel safe, respected, and desire the encounter in the ways its happening.  This is in the context of it being condoned or romanticized by the story (vs. the sense a story considers it wrong or having the POV of an unreliable narrator you’re meant to disagree with).  I actually stumble upon this quite a bit in the fShenko fandom, and it’s not for me.   

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?

I’m like everyone else, I think.  I check it a lot.  Probably way more than I should.  It’s influenced a lot by what I’m posting.  With one-shots I’ll let myself check more often.  But with a long-fic update, it’s important to curb the impulse.  

For a one shot, new kudos flood in.  Refreshing the screen is rewarding, because you have a good chance of discovering you have a new kudos or even a comment.  The repeated checking is positively reinforced.  I also invest less effort into a one-shot.  The stakes are lower.  For me, one-shots have high instant reward with that flood of stats and low-risk for disappointment with the lower effort investment.  For that reason, I let myself check more often with a one-shot.  Checking generally leads to more positive feelings and adds to the fun.       

With a long fic, you don’t see an uptick of kudos necessarily.  If you’ve been posting for a while, you may go several updates without a new kudos.  Hits are kind of irrelevant.  I don’t know what they mean.  That leaves comments as the only significant factor to check.  A comment on my long fic means a lot to me, more than stats on a one-shot.  I’ve invest a lot.  Refreshing the screen becomes a low-reaping high-reward situation. I feel like emotions are more up and down.  Disappointment is a greater risk and constant checking becomes maladaptive.  For that reason, I make a conscious effort to not check as often with a long fic update.  

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

I enjoy writing the first draft, and I enjoy interacting with people after I post it.  Enjoying the first draft applies to both fanfiction and original writing.  I think the posting part is where fanfiction really shines, because there’s overlapping interest and interaction within a community.  

There’s an idea that the last stage of art is to be experienced.  I think that’s true.  Dedicating yourself to writing a story is wonderful.  It’s an accomplishment.  For me, the project doesn’t have closure or feel fully gratificating until it’s read.  It could be even one person IRL, but that part of sharing it and hearing back is meaningful. I think that makes posting my favorite part of the writing process specific to fanfiction. 

35. How much has writing fic changed your life?

Writing fic let me feel like I was accomplishing something.  I’d become disillusioned with work.  My investment and skill didn’t matter at work, and I needed an area in my life where I could work toward something and feel accomplished.  Fanfic isn’t a big achievement, I suppose, but I’ve developed my writing skills.  I had never let anyone read my writing before, and it was an accomplishment in itself finding the confidence to share my story for a reader.  I’ve also met friends through fanfiction, which has added to the experience in such a positive way.  There have been a lot of changes for the positive.  

I would say one change to the negative is that people IRL don’t take my writing seriously anymore.  It’s kind of bizarre to me that as an amateur writing original work, which never gets finished and is never shared, my hobby was regarded as more worthwhile than now with writing fanfiction, even though my stories now do get completed and are actually read by others.  That’s been the only negative.  

On any account, the change has by far mostly been to the positive.  The support and comments people have given me, especially on Burning Barriers and Sideways, has given me a lot of gratification and confidence in my writing.  

Thank you for the ask!!!

#ask #ask meme #my writing

[deepperplexity]

I know I'm probably deliriously late, but I've seen this whole thing just now so...😂😊🌟❤️

The thing I generally love about fics is, primarily, how the author protrayes and expresses himself/herself/dunno. That's something so important, to me at least, apart from the plot.

And let me tell you; despite english not being your native language, you surely use it fairly better than most people who have it as their mother tongue. You've just got such a splendid way of using words, describe feelings and characters - especially (your portrayal of Snape, both regarding his phisical appearance and phyche, is simply mind-blowing; mouth watering, to say the least😂😂). When I read something of yours, I'm immediately immersed in it, and find it difficult to get away from the piece without a groan if I'd have to.

Another thing I find amazing about you, other than your passion and devotion towards writing, is the way you interact with those who follow you, or comment, in particular. It makes everything more enticing, makes us readers feel somehow valid and to some extent involved in the whole story, one-shot or whatever it might be you decide to gift us with.

I seriously can't stress enough about the fact you should receive so much more recognition. To put it simple: you're brilliant.

And, personally, I kind of look up to you. You're inspiring to me, both as an author and writer (don't know if it's correct to distinguish these two words, or if their kind of the same???)

Wish you well!🖤💚🖤💚

Don’t fret dearie, you are not late at all! 🥰❤️

Oh, I feel so humbled by this - that you find my use of language when I write to be so good! And as you say, it’s not my native language but I love it dearly and prefer it 90% of the time 🥰❤️ I am so darn grateful to hear that you love my way of portraying characters and emotions - especially our darling Snape as he is the root of my fanfiction writing 🙈😉 That you can immerse yourself so fully, wow, I’m so thrilled! That’s what I aim for and I feel like I am managing when I hear such lovely praise as this! 😍🥰❤️

You are valid! I do not think I would have kept writing like this if it weren’t for the interaction with my readers, with you. and I really want you to know how important you are and the fact that you give me your precious time I truly feel the least I can do is show my appreciation for you! Each comment is important to me, in varying ways ofc depending on the comment but they are all so darn important that I can’t even begin to try and explain it. ❤️ I try to think “how would I want to be received by a writer if I comment?” and then I answer comments from that point of view. I dislike not receiving an answer when I comment as it makes me feel like my comment did not mean anything and I never want my readers to feel like that. My answers are always backed by honest joy that I received feedback, that someone cared enough, was moved enough by my writing to give me words in return and I want you to know that - to feel that ❤️ 

(And I do adapt my writing after comments, in big and small ways to try and give my readers what they want to the best of my capabilities - so you really are involved in the creation of these tory if it’s a chaptered fic, if it’s a one-shot I may adapt my next one-shot to match with the comments or I may write a continuation to give my readers what they want since you guys are so important to me ❤️) I am so darn happy that you feel it’s a good thing that I try to invest so fully in my readers, that you notice and appreciate the effort I put into interacting with you and getting to know what you want - but above all, I am happy that you feel validated and involved by my actions through interaction 😍🥰🤗❤️

Thank you, thank you so much dearie for saying I deserve more recognition and that you see me as brilliant. That means so much to me and I am happy you feel that way, but I have the greatest readers - I can’t possibly ask for more than invested and interactive readers who love what I write and grants me their time 🥰🤗❤️ Hopefully, once I publish my first OW I can reach further as it is my dream to work full time as an author 🙈😇 

That I inspire you is just, gosh, wow, I’m honoured to hear you find me to be inspiring in the vast world of writing. There are so many great authors out in the world and I dare not even compare myself to them but to hear that I inspire you is heartwarming and now I feel like I want to do even better! 🙈 🥰🤗❤️ (Some distinguish between them depending on what you write but for me a writer and an author is the same basically but I do, sometimes, hold the title author a bit higher than writer as I feel author is more related to published writers who gets paid xD But that is merely my personal opinion ^^)

thank you so darn much for this ask, I’m all giddy, my heart might explode if I receive any more love today - gosh, I feel so overwhelmed and appreciated and honoured and humbled and just overall overjoyed. THANK YOU!  ❤️❤️❤️

#ask #post - send me a nonny ask about what you think my speciality as a fic writer is #I'm so overwhelmed by all this love and support and praise and care - I think I need to cry some happy tears or I'll explode from all this

[multific]

Journeys

Rami Malek x Reader

Summary: Life if full of new opportunities so, when you get to work with an Oscar winning, talented actor, you never expected that it would turn out like this.

 Seeing him for the first time left you speechless. You were assigned to be his makeup artist for his upcoming movie, yet you felt like a child standing in front of him. Your brain could barely comprehend the fact that you were standing in front of an Oscar winning actor.

“Ni-Nice to meet you, my name is Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Hello, I’m Rami Malek.”

Of course you knew who he was. Who didn’t? He was such a talent, and ever since you saw his work, you have been a fan of his, but you will never admit that to his face.

You heard others from the cast and the staff who worked at the studio calling him weird-looking. You preferred unique. His face, bone structure, cheeks, eyes and lips were so different. Different in a very handsome way, in your opinion.

That is how it all began.

Your days were quite the same, you did his makeup for the shoots and then if he needed touch ups, you were there. Wasn’t as exciting as someone might think, but it was your job and it paid well.

It was late night, you were back in your hotel room when you heard someone knock. You didn’t order anything and weren’t waiting for anyone, so you wondered who it might be.

You opened your door and saw Rami standing in front of it.

“Hi. Sorry to disturb you, it seems like in my room the heating is gone and when I asked for another room, they couldn’t give me one, I know you have two beds, would you mind if I borrowed one for tonight?”

“Oh.” well it was true that you used to have two beds, but last week they changed it to a double bed. “I have a double bed…But if you don’t mind. I only sleep on one side anyway. It’s too big for me.”

“Are you sure it’s not a problem?”

“Not for me. And you won’t get cold.”

“May I also take a bath?”

“Sure, come in.” you saw the bag in his hands, it seemed like he was prepared for this stay-over. You tried your very best to stay calm and collected. Rami took a bath as you sat on the bed, reading a blog on your laptop. You didn’t notice him coming out in his pajamas.

“Reading?” he scared you a little.

“Yes. It’s my favourite blog, has an article about how Egyptians used to do their makeup and shows inspirational pieces to try.”

“Sounds like you really are invested in the makeup world.” he said sitting down on the bed, taking a peak at your screen.

“Hmm. Yes. I have always liked to make others pretty.” he smiled at you and got under his sheets. Thankfully even though you had a double bed there were two sheets.

“Do you mind if I watch TV?”

“Not at all.”

The rest of the evening was pretty normal, he slept, not even snoring one bit, with his back to you, you watched as his body rose and fell with each breath he took. Your heart was beating too fast, you could barely sleep that night.

You cursed at yourself for having a crush on someone like him. He was so out of reach for you it wasn’t fair.

However when morning came, you found him sleeping facing you, you couldn’t help but admire his perfect skin and face. Even if it was for only a moment, your dreams got lose and you imagined what it would be like to wake up every day beside him. But you got up and went to get ready for the day before he could catch you staring at him.

Him staying in your room was only a one-time thing, sadly, since his room got fixed the next day.

***

Rami seemed to become a great friend of yours. He often initiated talk and even bought you some coffee in the mornings. While you worked on his makeup, he was telling you stories, making you laugh. And you’d do the same, you could tell he listened to every word you said, smiling and laughing along with you.

One day, he asked you to have dinner with him, you assumed he was once again friendly, since no one really talked with him from the cast. So, you went, you dressed up yourself into something nice and did your makeup and hair. It wasn’t a date, but you still wanted to look nice.

“Wow.” Rami said once he saw you all dressed up.

“Is it too much?” you asked, slightly worried that you might have overdone it.

“No. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” you blushed a little at his words.

He and you got into a cab as he gave the address to the driver. When you got to the restaurant, you found it to be one of the best in town. You heard that it was nearly impossible to get a table there.

“A table for two under the name Malek.” you heard him say to the waiter at the door.

“Right this way, Ma’am, Sir.” the waiter lead you to a table with the most privacy and amazing view.

“This is their best table.” Rami said that once you were seated.

“How did you get a table here? I heard it’s impossible!”

“Well, it’s good for them. They can say I was here, and I heard their food is amazing. Don’t hesitate to order whatever you want to.”

The waiter came back and handed each one of you the menu. However you found something strange.

“Uhm. Rami, there’s no pricing on the menu.”

“I told you not to worry about that. Just order something you like or want to try or both.”

“How can I not worry?”

“I’m paying.”

You left it at that, seeing there wouldn’t be a point in arguing with him. You ended up ordering something that you knew you’d like. Rami ordered something you never even heard about.

If you were honest with yourself, this was the best food you ever had. It was so tasty and just the perfect amount.

“Dessert?” asked Rami once he was done with his dish.

“Absolutely. This place is fantastic!”

“I’m glad you are enjoying it.” Rami smiled at you and this was the moment you realized that both of you were smiling during the whole time you have been there. You didn’t want to get the wrong idea of his kindness.

“Thank you for inviting me. This is probably the most expensive place I will ever go to in my life.”

He could only smile at your honesty.

After dinner, you felt full, but Rami said he would like to go to a nearby place. You agreed. And soon you found yourself on top a building looking down on the city. The beauty of it mesmerized you as you looked over the railing then took a step back.

“It’s gorgeous, but I don’t really like heights, so I’ll just stand here.” you told him honestly. Your crush on him only grew when you saw him with all the light reflecting in his eyes, illuminating his skin. It was slightly wrong of you that you thought about tonight as a date? Even if he wasn’t seeing you that way.

“You look absolutely breath taking.”

“You’re too kind.” It wasn’t that you didn’t believe him, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“Can a guy compliment his date?”

“Date?” you asked back shocked.

“Well, yeah.” there was a moment of silence. Rami looked at you as you stared at him. You couldn’t believe what he just said. You felt like you were dreaming or hallucinating. “Oh. I wasn’t clear enough? I thought I was clear, Y/N. I apologize, I can see you are quite surprised. For the last few weeks I feel like you are the only person who cared for me, and treated me well. Everyone sees me as this big star, but you. You see me for who I really am.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Rami took this as an opportunity to stand closer to you and put his hand on your cheek, making you look him in the eyes, his gorgeous eyes. Which he slowly closed as he leaned closer and finally, his lips landed on yours.

It felt like a dream come true, you even forgot to close your eyes. When he pulled away, you looked at him all you could say was.

“But I’m only a makeup artist…I’m not someone who deserves you.”

“Y/N, you think too little of yourself. You are far more than just a makeup artist, you are the one who helped me, kept me motivated and made me smile. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.” Somehow over your mutual insecurity, you found yourself grabbing his shirt’s collar and pulling him down for a kiss. This one was deeper, with more passion and feelings poured into it.

You soon pulled away from the kiss, but Rami kept his embrace around you, you looked at the sight in front of you, a city full of life, light and opportunities.

And in the middle of it, you were ready to begin your journey, with Rami.

 Taglist: imreadinggoaway fleursirvart v-2bucky ehsebastian crunch-time-sports pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmiler smexylemony greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd thisismysecrethappyplace sincerelyfan theoneanna aestheticsandmarvel rororo06 castellandiangelo avengers-r-us destynelseclipsacastellandiangelo spilledinkindumpster celebsimagines capsiclesdoll firstangeldragonranch snoopy3000 firstangeldragonranch puknow crazzyter alwayshave-faith  soleil-dor alex12948 scream-kiwi79

~Masterlist~

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My taglist is open!

Feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank You for reading my story!~

#rami malek x reader #rami malek x you #rami malek x oc #rami malek imagine #rami malek imagines #rami malek fanfiction #rami malek #rami malek fan fiction #rami malek scenarios #rami malek scenario

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

4 and 7 for Luke and Jelena from the fanfic asks

4: Tell me about one of your abandoned WIPs. Why did you abandon it?

Do you mean the entirety of my google drive? I have a WIP that's based off my own personal experience with the healthcare system and health as it relates to having a uterus. But I don't think I'd ever finish it. It's too personal and I feel like I leave a lot of my stories on the cusp of things. Like we never know with some of them if they're going to be happy endings or not. And having this based off my own experience, which does NOT have a happy ending, makes it harder for me to finish it. Writing's a release. But I also feel like this is material that might be better suited for my thesis. And my thesis is due in May 2022, so I just abandoned the WIP as it relates to tumblr but I'll recycle parts of it for my thesis.

A true true WIP that I abandoned was a Boxer!Calum fic. A variety of things halted that one--I started it when I still had calumh-excess active. But I lost a lot of momentum in the 5sos fandom a) because of the shit the band was doing/who they were hanging around and b) because I think I was trying to emulate concepts that I had seen do very well while at the same time as seeing a SHARP decline in readership. @cakesunflower has an AMAZING Boxer!Cal fic that she managed to get published into a for real for real book (here). And admittedly, I think sometimes as a reader and a writer you want to ride the way. But it wasn't something that I was passionate about. I also know myself as a writer--this a WIP that I would've suck HOURS and HOURS into research for the littlest details and the return on that kind of investment wouldn't have been worth it. I had (have? I think the plans might be activated again some day) HUGE plans for the boxing to be truly an integral part of the details and gruesome fights and being underground and technical. But for a platform like Tumblr, with the addition such a sharp decline in reblogs and general feedback, I really didn't feel like it was worth it.

This is not to say that writers on tumblr are doing anything FOR the notes. But as someone that was well known at the time, it was important to ME, to also see the same love returned. I was pouring my soul into AU's but wasn't getting a lot of love for them. So I was at a point where I was like, I can save this idea for later and work on other concepts that I enjoy that I also know will get more momentum from my readers. In some ways, as I was working in retail and gearing up for grad school, it was a smarter move for me as a person to save my bigger ideas and give smaller pieces and more mundane/"real world" pieces the time and effort they deserved because it was a Win-Win for everyone. Fanfiction is fucking FREE and because it wasn't paying my bills, I made the choice to table yet another AU that I would've spent hours, weeks, or months on for something that even if it only got a few likes and a couple reblogs in favor of something that could gain the same sense of satisfaction from.

It all came down to: no matter how much time I do or do not spend on this fic will I be proud of what I get in return. And for this particular boxerfic, I think what I would've gotten in return wasn't going to be able to outweigh the work that I put into it. Writing is work. For fuck sake, a university signs my check at the moment to teach writing, to write, to create. Just because I do it on Tumblr for various artists and fandoms for free doesn't mean I have to do everything creative for free. So Boxer!Cal became an idea that I knew was going to be HUGE, but given the timing and the personal expense I would've had to cash out, it was a better and smarter decision for me to put it on hold.

7: Were there any ideas you had for [insert fic] that you couldn’t make work? What were they?

I had some ideals for a part two of Wanderer but I couldn't make it work as a full fledge part two. I think ultimately if Yelena did come back into Luke's life, Luke couldn't have waited for her without major consequences that would've ultimately terminated the relationship. People move on and essentially that story would diverged and it would've just been a story about two people who never reconnect in the same manner and it would be so far apart from each other. Yelena's not in Luke's world in a way where it would force her to see him consistently. She's a nail tech who can travel as she places, pick up work anywhere. So it's not like she would be forced into Luke's circle. There's a possibility that she might, and I could've made it work but it would've been too much of a stretch. I would've had to really work it out and I think for what the ending it was going to get no matter what, that would've been dissatisfying to a reader. And possibly that's interesting, the questions of what does it actually mean to move on. I could've tackled questions like: What does moving on look like? And when it comes to moving on, are we ever fully moved on from people? What parts remain with us? But I didn't think it was quite something I could really stick the landing on so I left it at the what if and the cliffhanger. But I feel like while Luke could've given Yelena a second shot, part of him would always be afraid that she'd leave again. And Yelena wouldn't want to and, in my opinion, shouldn't have to continually prove herself. I could see myself doing an epilogue perhaps. A brief encounter after they've lived their lives for a year or two, but I don't think they'd wind up together enough for me to justify a part full fledge part two.

#asks games #notinthesameguey #asks #fanfiction #5sos #calum hood #luke hemmings