#could this be even categorized as fanfiction? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bro-atz · 6 months

Note

Hi, its my first time to request. Since its halloween can you write an incubus Yunho one shot fanfiction? I just want the fanfic has a plot before the smut scenes and its up to you what would that be. Thanks 😊

dream in a dream

in which: yunho needs to fuck in order to stay alive, but he fell in love with you in the process.

pair: incubus!yunho/afab!reader

word count: 8k

content: smut, angst... a lot of sex... like a lot a lot, death, raw sex (remember to wrap up irl!), consensual...? definitely not non-con, but... mostly consensual idk sexsomnia/somnophilia are hard to categorize

author's note: friend... my brain literally exploded HAHA i never thought the day would come when i would be requested to write an incubus ff... anyway i really ran with the idea apparently so i hope you like this ridiculously long incubus!yunho also i am so sorry for how it ends... seriously i'm truly sorry idk what i did happy halloween ig?

tag list: @k-hotchoisan apply for the permanent taglist here!

The thing with immortal beings that a lot of people don’t know is that they’re not actually immortal. They have to do certain things to stay alive. Humans have to eat food and drink water to stay alive, but not immortal beings. Each one is different. Vampires feed on blood (duh), banshees feed on revenge, wendigos need to consume human flesh, and an incubus needs to have sex. Vulgar? Yes, but it’s the truth.

It’s not just about sex for an incubus, though. They need the health, the energy, the life force from a human, and they have sex in order to obtain that.

Yunho was an incubus. He was kind of a lousy one at that. No, he was good at obtaining the energy he needed to keep going, but the problem for him was that he was picky. Some vampires only like a certain blood group, and Yunho only had an affinity for certain people. It was hard for Yunho to find someone he didn’t immediately despise. Think about it— he can’t have sex if he can’t get it up, and there were a select amount of people on the planet who could get him to that point.

That was when he met you.

You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life (and he had lived such a long life). There was just something about the way you would laugh and smile that made his heart flutter, and just watching you walking away from him made his body burn with lust. You were the one. He just knew that you were the one from the beginning, before he even slept with you.

You sighed deeply as you flopped onto your bed. You had a horrible day at work, and you wanted to relieve your stress one way or another, but you just couldn’t figure out what to do in order to relax. You dragged yourself into your bathroom and forced yourself to get ready to go to bed.

As you sat on your bed under the duvet in your tank top and shorts silk pajama set and watched TV, you couldn’t help but feel like something was off. You couldn’t tell what it was, but after getting sucked into the drama in your show, that feeling vanished. Sleepily, you turned your TV off and slept.

Then, your eyes fluttered open. Something got onto your bed, and you knew because you felt the bed dip. You blinked a couple of times and saw a shadowy figure next to you. You wanted to scream, and you opened your mouth to do so, but the figure covered your mouth.

“Shh, baby,” the figure whispered in the most reassuring, low, manly voice. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“W-who are you? What’re you doing here? How did you get in here?” you rambled off all of the questions in your head.

“None of those things matter,” he responded with the same, low register. “What matters is this. Us.”

The figure brushed your hair out of your face lightly, and you found yourself comforted by his touch. There was something about the warmth in his hands that reassured you. His fingers ran down the side of your face, down your neck, and over your shoulder, slipping your tank top strap off the side. You trembled when you felt his lips press lightly against your shoulder and let out a tiny moan as their kisses trailed along the part of your chest that was exposed.

“Why…?” you breathed out.

He responded, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of blood rushing to your ears when you felt his body weight press further into you. You lost yourself even more when he brushed hair away from your neck and left sweet kisses.

“Just enjoy it, Y/N,” he whispered.

“You know my name…?”

He nodded against your neck, continuing to kiss you. You gasped when you felt his hand go under your top and squeeze your breast tightly. You squirmed below him as you felt yourself get more and more turned on— you needed him to do something about it. Whimpers and moans left your lips the more he felt your body up, and those whimpers and moans stopped when his lips met yours. He kissed you sweetly. He originally kissed you only once, but you needed more. You reached for his face and brought him back, kissing him over and over again.

“God, you’re so perfect, Y/N,” he breathed out in between kisses.

When he moved away from you, you wanted to complain, but he didn’t give you the chance. He tugged your shorts down all the way and licked your cunt from bottom to top. You inhaled sharply as his tongue continued to violate you. His firm hands went under your knees and pushed upwards, allowing him to pleasure you even more.

“Oh God,” you hissed when he sucked on your clit.

You felt yourself nearing your climax. You brought your hands to the back of his head and ran your fingers through his hair before holding on tightly to his roots. The closer you got, the firmer your grasp became, and right before you came, you pushed his head closer to you.

“Fuck!” you cried.

Your pussy convulsed, and stars filled your vision as you reached ecstasy. You were breathing rashly when he sat up and wiped his lips with his thumb.

You could barely make out his features now that you got a better view of him, but you knew that the man was fine. His jawline was sharp, and his nose was long and slender. His hair shielded his eyes, but his lips were beautiful and plump. As much as you liked staring at his lips, you wanted them connected to yours again.

Before removing his own clothes, he helped you out of yours. You laid in bed and watched his muscles ripple as he moved, his slender frame swelling up as he inhaled and looked at you. You watched him palm himself, your heart racing as you saw exactly how well hung we was. Slowly, he pinned you down and positioned himself carefully.

You felt like he was going to split you wide open when he entered you. He was long and girthy, and you really weren’t ready for it. Tears slipped out of your eyes as you suppressed your cries. Yet, despite the pain, you didn’t want him to stop, so when he was fully inside you and didn’t move, you whimpered and whined.

“Good job, baby,” he whispered as he pet your hair. “I’m going to start moving now, okay?”

You nodded eagerly, making him have to choke back a laugh. You reached for the back of his neck and brought his face down to yours as he pulled out slowly. You kissed him hungrily while he started to actually fuck you. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and your tongue met his over and over again with every kiss.

At first, he was moving slowly at a steady pace, but suddenly, he thrust sharply into you, making you moan into his mouth. You continued to moan in between the kisses as he fucked you hard, his waist hitting yours with so much force that your entire body shifted forward. Worried that your head would hit the headboard, he put his hand on the top of your head, only to move his hand to the back of your head as he pulled you to sit upright.

His lips were still pressed against yours as he knelt on the bed, his cock still deep inside you. You sat on his lap and held onto him tightly as he raised and lowered you repeatedly. You let out little yelps every time he sat you down on his lap fully, his dick hitting places deep within you with such force.

“So good!” you moaned loudly as you flung your head back. “I’m gonna cum again!”

Without any sort of reaction, he lowered you down again and fucked you senseless, his hips making your ass cheeks sting. You kept crying out with every thrust, and when he slammed into you and stayed inside, filling you with his seed, you came as well. It was only when he pulled out that you squirted onto the bed, his cum leaking out of you.

You remained lying on the bed in a puddle of pleasure as he laid down gently beside you. His fingers tucked your splayed out hair behind your ear and caressed your face as your eyelids suddenly became heavy with sleep.

Drifting back to sleep, you were barely conscious to hear his response when you asked, “What’s your name?”

“Yunho.”

When you woke up the next morning, you looked up and around wildly, remembering the incredible night you had— also fearing that a stranger really was in your home— but there was no one to be found. You were wearing your pajamas, which confused you because you definitely fell asleep after… That… Naked. Also, your hair and bedsheets were still neat and orderly, which definitely should not have been the case if you had sex that night. Was that all really a dream?

“Geez, get it together,” you whispered to yourself. “There’s no way you slept with a complete stranger last night.”

It had to be the exhaustion, you told yourself. You just needed a break.

“Yunho, you gotta find someone to fuck, otherwise you’re going to vanish. You know how it is,” a demon sighed.

Yunho was with his incubus friends chatting and people watching as they sat in public in their human forms.

“No, I know, Mingi. I found someone,” Yunho answered.

“Wow, the picky incubus finally chose someone?!” another demon exclaimed.

“Shut up, San. And, yes, I did.”

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Mingi asked.

“Just… Someone.”

Mingi and San looked at each other with concern as Yunho looked away, a light blush appearing on his face.

“Yunho… When did you meet this woman?” Mingi asked.

“About a month or two ago.”

“And how many times have you slept with this woman?” San continued the line of questioning.

“Uh, I think eight times.” Yunho lied. “Why?”

“You need to find someone else.”

“Why?”

“Dude, are you stupid, or did you forget that you can only fuck her so many times before she dies?”

Yunho pressed his lips together and looked away. Of course he knew that. He knew, but he couldn’t help it. He loved you. Demons weren’t supposed to fall in love, but there was just something about you that drew him toward you. He couldn’t keep away.

“You’re only at eight—”

“I lied. It’s ten.”

“Okay, fine. You’ve only fucked her ten times, right?” San clarified. “You have to find someone else.”

“It’s not so easy! You guys know how I am.”

“Yes, we do. At least find someone else before you hit twenty,” Mingi said with a sigh. “You don’t want to end up like Yeosang, do you?”

Yeosang was another incubus that was part of Yunho’s little group. He, too, fell in love with a human and fucked her until the fated number— forty-two. When she passed away, Yeosang couldn’t move on. Because he wasn’t having sex, he withered away, leaving both the human world and demon world.

“I know. I’ll find someone else…” Yunho conceded.

It was the weekend for you, and you had a long and stressful week thanks to work, which meant you were going to use the weekend to recover instead of spend it having fun with your friends.

Recovery to you meant sitting in bed, watching TV, and eating as much junk food as your body could handle. As you sat and mindlessly watched whatever it was playing on your television, your mind drifted to the dreams you’ve been having as of late.

It wasn’t every night, but it was starting to become more frequent. You kept dreaming of that man, Yunho, and he had sex with you in each dream. It felt so vivid and real, but every morning after the dream, you’d wake up to a clean bed and clean pajamas. You wished it was real, though. Yunho always fucked you right. He knew exactly how to treat you, which just made you feel even more delusional. How could a dream be better than sex in real life? The human mind truly is incredible.

Your mind kept going. You thought about Yunho and how he looked when he was sweaty and passionate hovering above you, the way he would brush two fingers along your temple to move your hair before leaving a light kiss on your forehead, his technique when he…

You started touching yourself. You thought about Yunho’s fingers, his tongue, his dick. You thought about how good he made you feel whenever you dreamt about him. You rubbed your middle finger over your clit while imaging it was his tongue, and with a soft moan, you slipped two of your fingers into your pussy— although it definitely wasn’t the same because Yunho was significantly bigger and longer.

You thought about the sweet nothings he would whisper in your ear as he fucked you softly. The way he called you baby, the way he praised you… Fuck.

You were close to cumming when all of a sudden an ad on the TV scared the shit out of you. It was loud and for a horror film. You immediately turned off the TV and threw the remote onto your nightstand. Great. The mood was gone. Annoyed, you pulled the covers over you and went to sleep

Yunho, meanwhile, had been watching you— demons had the ability to become invisible, so he was able watch you while leaning against your door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. Watching you was so hot, and if anything, it made him love you even more. He hated that you went to bed unsatisfied, so of course he had to act. He waited until you were fully asleep before turning into his human form and sitting on your bed.

You looked so peaceful lying there fast asleep. Yunho didn’t want to wake you up. But, you were legitimately dreaming about Yunho in that moment, calling his name in a whisper and clutching the air as if you were clutching him.

Yunho turned your head and bent down to kiss you, his lips gently taking your upper lip. It was a long and sweet kiss. Yunho thought that you would for sure wake up like Sleeping Beauty or some other princess, but you were still asleep. He couldn’t wait for you to wake up, though. His cock was itching, aching to pleasure you greatly.

Sloppy kisses echoed in the room as Yunho trailed his lips across your collarbones to your neck. You moaned quietly, shifted, and hugged Yunho with your eyes still closed— you ended up waking up when you felt his hair tickle your cheek. Your hand ran up from his shoulder to the back of his head, your fingers running through his hair.

“Yunho…?” you murmured.

“Yes, baby,” Yunho replied softly.

“Oh, good! You’re here,” you giggled softly while guiding his head towards yours. “I need you. My body needs you.”

“R-really?” Despite knowing that you were masturbating to him, he was still taken aback. He was in love with you, after all.

You nodded and shot him a small, loving smile before kissing his lips. Yunho was overjoyed. He was so overjoyed, in fact, that he could hold himself back. He was grabbing at your body and bringing you closer as if you would run away if he even let go of you for a split second. He rolled onto his back as you laid on his chest, your lips still locking with his, his tongue still playing with yours.

“I… I need you in me. Right now,” you broke the chain, breathing heavily as you spoke to him.

You tucked your thumb under your waistband and pulled your pajama pants along with panties down. Yunho was seriously over the moon. Eagerly, he helped you out of all of your clothes and stripped himself down at the speed of light so that he could swiftly enter you.

Yunho was overly eager. You had to hold onto his arms or shoulders to keep yourself upright as he thrust rapidly and harshly into your sopping wet cunt. Flinging your head back, you cried out in pure bliss when you felt his cock hit deep inside you, waves of pleasure spreading through your body rapidly.

There was no way you were ever going to be able to pleasure yourself properly, you thought to yourself as Yunho’s penis made you cum harder than you ever had before. There was no way you were going to be able to ever be satisfied, not when your dream was this fucking good.

When Yunho came, he came inside you. A thought about breeding you briefly flitted in his mind before he shut that down. He desperately wanted to be with you like that— he wanted to get married to you, have kids with you, and grow old with you. But, that was never going to happen. You were a human, he was a demon, and life was a bitch. He had to settle for being your “dream man” for now.

You were starting to feel weird. For a week straight, you had dreams about Yunho, and when you woke up, you were exhausted. There definitely was no way that the dream was real, which meant that you were dreaming so hard that your body wasn’t getting any rest, or something like that. You tried to rationalize it by yourself, but you realized that you just couldn’t figure it out alone.

You met up with one of your friends for coffee one day. Your friend expressed concern when she saw you literally chugging your coffee to get a new one.

“Okay, I haven’t been sleeping that great lately,” you started.

“Lay it on me, girl.”

“I’ve been having these… Dreams…”

“What kinds of dreams?”

You coughed. You were slightly embarrassed that you were going to admit to your friend that you were having wet dreams, but you had to tell her. “They’re, uh, sex dreams.”

“Oh?”

“And it’s so weird because it’s always the same guy… I’ve never seen the guy in real life before either, so I have no idea who I’m dreaming about.”

“Maybe you saw him in passing once, and now you just think about him.”

“Yeah… Maybe…”

You sighed and took a sip of your third coffee of the day— you had chugged yet another one right before you started explaining your reason for being exhausted to your friend.

“What goes on in these dreams?” she prompted you further.

“Well, he fucks me in every dream,” you said with a slight blush on your face.

“And how is it?”

“Honestly? …Fucking amazing.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah, like, oh my God! If I had sex like that in real life with that guy, I’d grab on and never let go.”

“Maybe we should go look for him? Make your dream a reality?”

You let out a little laugh— there was no way Yunho was real, but sure, you could go hunting for him.

There was a brief moment of silence between you and your friend before you admitted in a hushed tone, “But… Sometimes… I wonder if the dreams are real…”

“What on Earth? What do you mean by that?” you friend asked, her eyes wide.

“Like, I’ll wake up with my back just sore as hell, or my neck kind of bruised—”

“Like a hickey?”

“No, just… Sore and barely bruised. It’s also, like, an entire area and not a small mark.”

“Girly, I think it’s your bed. Get some new pillows and a new mattress.”

“I should… But my mattress cannot be the reason why I’m exhausted.”

“Have you been sleeping?” your friend asked (dumbly).

“Well, obviously, because how the fuck else would I dream about this all the time?” you responded while rolling your eyes. “But… I think I’m just dreaming about it so much that it’s exhausting when I wake up because I wasn’t, like, fully asleep or something…”

“Like lucid dreaming?”

“Yeah! That. Like that. What should I do to stop the lucid dreaming?”

“I think you need to see a doctor. It sounds like it could be sleep apnea or something as well.”

You nodded and continued talking to your friend.

Meanwhile, Yunho and his demon buddies, in their demon forms, were watching you from a distance while eavesdropping on your conversation (incubi had impeccable hearing).

“Yunho, leave her alone. You need to stop with her,” San lectured his friend with a frown.

“It’s easier said than done—”

“No, dude! If you really love her, then don’t do this!” Mingi interrupted.

Yunho sighed and looked down. His friends were right. You were getting weaker by the day, and it was his fault. But, he loved you, and he loved making love to you, and at that point, he’d rather have you die because of him and not because of some other factor. More morbid thoughts filled his head as he pondered his relationship with you.

“How many times has it been, Yunho?” San asked with a heavy sigh.

“…I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?! Are you fucking nuts?!” San shrieked.

Mingi stared at Yunho. He knew that his friend was lying. He grabbed Yunho’s shoulder and said almost threateningly, “You know. You know how many times you’ve slept with her, so tell us the truth and stop fucking lying to us.”

“Eighteen times…”

San nearly lost his shit and berated the demon, but he held back. With a frustrated scream, San told Yunho to get his shit together before flying off.

“We just don’t want you to leave us, Yunho. Please leave that woman alone,” Mingi spoke to his friend softly.

Yunho bowed his head. He couldn’t promise a single damn thing, and Mingi knew that. Mingi patted Yunho’s shoulder and took off as well, leaving Yunho alone to stare longingly at you.

“Nngh, Yunho,” you whined as you felt the tip of his tongue roll around your clit.

Your dream was really catering to you this time. This time around, Yunho was so gentle— although, he usually is gentle with you— and really focused on you. He was eating you out, and you were trembling under his sensual touch.

Yunho pushed your thigh up so that your leg ended up resting on his shoulder as his tongue prodded into you. You quivered when you felt his tongue go deeper inside you and run up the walls of your cunt. When he slurped up your arousal fluid, you felt your face get hot. You were embarrassed for a split second until you felt his tongue flick your clit back and forth, causing that thought to leave your mind and focus on keeping it together.

Two of his fingers rushed into you, and he fingered you fast. There was so much friction happening between your walls thanks to his fingers that you felt like he was about to start a fire in your cunt. His tongue continued to go after your clit ruthlessly, and his fingers refused to let up as you felt yourself reach your climax. You grabbed onto Yunho’s hair and held him tightly as you let out the most sonorous, pleasureful cry while squirting several times, your ass and thighs shaking. You were still moaning and crying after you finished, the feeling of him pleasuring you with just his tongue and fingers not leaving you so fast.

Through bleary eyes, you watched a tiny smirk appear on Yunho’s face. He looked so pleased with work, his fingers rubbing up and down your folds as he felt up your wetness.

“Oh, God… Yunho,” you sighed as you flung your head back into your pillow, stars starting to fill your vision. “So… Fucking… Good…”

With that, you were out like a light. Yunho looked at you completely passed out, your hair splayed wildly, your bare chest moving up and down rhythmically, and your pussy still quivering, luring him.

He wished you were awake, but he didn’t have it in him to wake you up, nor did he have it in him to just up and walk away. You looked so fucking sexy to him— he finger-fucked you senseless, and it gave up a sort of pride to see that he was the one who did that to you. His boner was pressing hard against his pants. He needed to relieve it, and seeing as how your cunt was unsheathed and still soaking wet, he tentatively but ultimately used you to calm his throbbing dick down.

Already shirtless, Yunho just unbuckled and pulled his pants down. He moved your legs so that they were on either side of him, his cock resting on top of your stomach. He lifted your hips upwards, your ass barely on the bed at that point, before rubbing his length along your folds. You moaned slightly when he pushed the tip of his cock into you, but you were still asleep. Even when his cock entered you entirely, you had yet to wake up again. You were out cold.

Yunho felt so wrong fucking you, the woman he loves, while you were asleep, but when your pussy clenched around his dick, he gasped and shivered, all logic and reasoning leaving his head. He had to fuck you. He had to fuck you until your cunt was quivering and throbbing. He had to fuck you until he filled you up completely with his sperm, cumming more than several times inside you.

Without letting up, Yunho just kept thrusting and thrusting and thrusting into you sometimes softly, sometimes with immense force at different tempos and rhythms. His breathing was rough and ragged, and at times he wanted to stop, but your pussy was so addicting that he just couldn’t. Even after he filled you up to the point where cum was literally overflowing from your pussy, he wanted more. But, for the night, he had to stop. It was almost sunrise.

You were drained as fuck when you woke up the next morning. Your back was hurting, and your chest would hurt any time you inhaled too deeply. Something was wrong, but you didn’t know what it was. All you knew was that it was starting to scare you a little how adverse your body was starting to react.

San decided to check in on you one day. He debated changing into his human form, but the second he saw your physical state, he realized that he didn’t need to. He immediately departed for Yunho’s place to berate him.

“If you keep this up, Yunho, you’re going to die, too!”

San was walking, more like chasing, behind Yunho while lecturing him, Yunho walking away from his friend, trying to avoid the conversation. Technically speaking, he could just fly away, but San would follow even in the air, and he didn’t feel like using that energy to have the argument.

“Since when do demons care about whether or not a human dies?!” Yunho shot right back.

“Because you love this specific human, and I know you! I know that if she dies, it’ll kill you! Do you really want to end up like Yeosang?!”

“Stop fucking bringing him up, San! Yeosang died because he chose to kill himself. I’m going to keep living after Y/N dies, so fucking leave me alone!”

“I seriously fucking doubt it, asshole,” San flew right in front of Yunho, getting the man to stop moving. “You’re such a sentimental bastard. There’s no way you would kill her without it haunting you forever. You would never be able to live with the fact that you killed the love of your undead life!”

“Just shut the fuck up, San! I know!” Yunho started crying. “I don’t want her to die, but I can’t… I can’t control myself! Every time I see her, I just want to make love to her all night long!”

“Then stay away from her! This world so big. You can fly to another country and make your rounds there! Forget about her. Let her go, and let her live.”

Yunho nodded slowly. San was right. He knew San was right.

“How many times have you slept with her, now?” San asked, afraid to hear the number.

“Thirty.”

“Shit… You need to get the fuck away from her. Right now. Go.”

San shooed Yunho away, Yunho taking off. San watched his friend fly away, praying to their demon overlord that Yunho would listen to him for once.

But of course, Yunho wasn’t going to listen. After all, his love for you superseded logic and reason.

You were losing it. You were so fucking drained, your dreams continuing to exhaust you. You kept thinking that it had to be real, that there was no way you body would be so worn down just by dreaming about sex. Yet, when you woke up in the morning, nothing seemed to be out of place. You looked exactly like you did before you went to bed the night before except with your hair a little bit messier and your clothes just a tiny bit wrinkled.

It was hot outside, and yet, you were shivering. After requesting the day off from work, you dragged yourself to the doctor’s office to see what the fuck was going on with your body.

“Well, Y/N. You’re fine… I don’t know what to tell you,” the doctor said while scratching their head— they were confused as well.

“There’s gotta be some sort of explanation!” you exclaimed. “You seriously didn’t hear anything wrong with my breathing? Because I have been having difficulty breathing, and I shouldn’t be shivering like this when it’s summer!”

“It’s baffling to me too, Y/N! I wish I could give you an answer for all this, but I seriously can’t find anything abnormal… Have you been sleeping well?”

“Not at all.”

“Well, that’s a start. Why haven’t you been sleeping well?”

“I keep having these… Dreams…”

“Nightmares?”

“No, it feels too good to be a nightmare…” you admitted before immediately clamping your mouth shut. You were already mortified that one of your friends knew about your sexual dreams, and you didn’t need to embarrass yourself in front of your doctor. “The main thing is that these dreams are so hyperrealistic that they leave me feeling more exhausted when I wake up.”

“Alright…” your doctor scribbled on a pad. “I’m going to put in an order for this medication, so start with this, and if your sleep is still disturbed, then we’ll do a sleep study for you.”

You nodded and took the prescription from the doctor, and you thanked the doctor before you left the building. Immediately after leaving, you picked up the new prescription from the doctor and went home to test it out immediately.

The pills worked. About an hour after you took one dose, you passed out in bed. You were so knocked out that you didn’t even realize that Yunho sat on the bed and immediately started feeling you up. Although, despite the fact that you were fast asleep, that didn’t stop you from moaning when you felt his fingers run up your calf, along your thigh, and to your crotch.

“Y/N,” he whispered as he left soft kisses along your exposed arm. “Baby…”

He had laid beside you and was touching any and every part of you with a feather light touch. You smiled softly and turned towards him, but you were still completely asleep. Even when he brushed your hair behind your ear and ran his fingertips from your forehead to your chin, you remained asleep. Yunho trapped your lower lip in between his fingers before dragging you towards him, his lips overtaking yours. He was amazed when he realized that you were kissing back. You, fully asleep, were responding to his advances. It was exhilarating.

Yunho kissed you passionately for a solid several minutes before releasing you, a sigh escaping your lungs, and a pout settling on your face. You, unconsciously, did not want Yunho to stop. Yunho didn’t want to stop either, especially not while his crotch was getting tighter by the second. Sitting up to kneel, Yunho removed his pants, his cock springing out.

It wasn’t until that moment did Yunho feel like a real incubus. Usually, he would wake up whoever it was he was going to sleep with because he felt kind of uncomfortable making love to someone who was unresponsive (for the most part), but you could not be awoken. He spat on his hand and stroked his dick a couple times before moving so that his cock was positioned right by your lips. It was only when Yunho held your face with one hand and squeezed your cheeks did your mouth open properly, allowing him to slip his dick into your mouth.

Your tongue swirled around his cock the deeper it went into your mouth, and even half fucking asleep, you still gagged and stayed asleep. Yunho bit back moans as he felt you suck hard on him, and he had to control himself as he began to thrust gently into your mouth. You were moaning lightly with his dick still deep in your mouth, and the stimulation was too much for him to handle. Grabbing your head, he pushed you towards him and shoved deep into your throat, his cock twitching and throbbing as he came in your mouth.

“Fuck,” Yunho hissed as he realized what he had done after it was over.

He pulled out from your mouth and watched a trail of white connect your tongue to the tip of his penis. When you closed your mouth and swallowed, Yunho couldn’t take it. His cock stiffened almost immediately, and he desperately wanted to be inside you.

Usually, he would take your clothes off carefully, but Yunho couldn’t bear it any longer. He snatched your pants off and nearly tore your night shirt as he removed that as well. He left your panties on and just pushed them to the side quickly so he could be inside you as soon as possible. He groaned loudly as he felt how fucking tight you were despite him fucking you so many times. He loved your body so goddamn much.

As he rolled his hips into you repeatedly, he also massaged your breasts, earning sweet moans and sighs from you. It was a wonder how you hadn’t woken up yet. Even when he slammed his pelvis into you, you were still asleep. It turned Yunho on more than it should’ve.

“Y/N, baby, oh fuck,” Yunho bit out; he was so close to cumming.

Your moans had turned into whimpers and whines by that point because your body was also ready. Yunho came first, and he came inside you, only to feel your arousal fluid start to squirt out of you. As soon as he pulled out, you squirted and cried loudly, your entire body shaking as your orgasmed. Yunho for sure thought you would wake up by that point, but you were still fucking fast asleep. Those were some strong fucking pills.

The medication the doctor gave you was working— it knocked you out, and you hadn’t dreamt about Yunho since you started taking it, but you were still run down. You noticed that you were losing weight rapidly and that you could barely keep food down. You were dehydrated no matter how much water you drank, and the cherry on top to the whole goddamn thing was that you felt like you were dying, but your doctor said you were fine.

“Let’s get you on that sleep study, okay?” the doctor said. “Maybe we’ll get some answers from there. If not, we can go through more tests, but the sleep one first.”

You got set up for the sleep study and slept for the first time in a while without the medication the doctor provided, and you didn’t dream. Not once.

Yunho, in his demon form, sat in the room with you while you laid in the bed for the study. He watched the way your eyelashes would flutter, the way your lips would part slightly as you switched from breathing with your nose to your mouth, and the small, cute little freckles that he missed seeing when he was too busy fucking you. God, he loved you so much. So fucking much.

Mingi met up with Yunho the next morning, the two of them standing and watching the nurse take the electrodes off you.

“Yunho. She looks like shit.”

“Shut the fuck up, she’s beautiful—”

“She was beautiful.” Mingi interrupted. “You’re sucking the life out of her… What number have you hit now?”

Yunho couldn’t respond. The number was forty, but he didn’t want to say the number out loud because he hoped that he was wrong, that he hadn’t slept with you so many times.

“You know what you need to do if you want to keep her on this planet,” Mingi stated.

“I do.”

“Are you going to do it?”

A tear rolling down his cheek, Yunho turned to Mingi and shook his head. He couldn’t stay away. He loved you.

“You really are a demon, Yunho.”

You got the results back— they were normal. You were actually so fucking confused. How could you feel miserable but be completely disease free whenever you tested for anything? You scheduled a couple more check ups at the hospital, but you knew that deep down, there were going to be no results, that you were going to be labelled as fine. Still, you had to go through the check ups for the sake of going through them.

You stopped taking the medication by that point, wondering if the medication was actually making it worse. You hadn’t dreamt about sex with Yunho in so long, but to prepare, you studied up on lucid dreaming. If you dreamt about him that night, you were going to snap out of the dream. You were going to find natural ways to stop the dreams from keeping you up.

And so, you went to bed that night, fully expecting to wake up in your lucid dream.

It’s just a lucid dream, you told yourself when you stirred from your slumber. You knew the ways to wake up from a lucid dream, and you were going to put them to the test today, but when you saw Yunho, you couldn’t. Fuck, he was just a figment of your imagination— how did you fall for someone that wasn’t even real?

And yet, your heart ached when you saw him sitting on the edge of your bed. He looked so sad. Why was your lucid dream doing this to you?

“Yunho?” you whispered gently.

Yunho turned his head.

“Oh, Y/N. You’re awake?”

“I’m… Awake?”

You couldn’t process the words— Yunho fully embraced you tightly, his arms squeezing you to the point where you definitely could have broken a bone. He dug his nose into your hair and inhaled deeply, making you tingle all over.

“I miss you,” he whispered sadly.

You were rendered speechless when he dropped his head into the nook of your neck and left a soft, sensual kiss on your exposed skin. You felt yourself get swept away in his affection when he lifted you and laid you down on the bed so that he was pinning you down before immediately running his hands up your shirt.

Yunho was urgently trying to get you out of your clothes. He should’ve taken his time with you knowing that it was going to be the last time, but the fact that you were actually awake this time made him overly eager to be intimate with you. He got you out of your clothes in record time, his hands roaming your body immediately.

You moaned loudly and flung your head back as you felt his mouth meet your breast. While his mouth worked on your breast, his fingers moved down to stroke your— you didn’t realize that you were so completely wet— cunt, his finger brushing along your clit several times. You were whining and rocking your hips gently as his fingers teased you and his teeth tugged on your nipple.

“You like that, baby?” Yunho, after leaving your nipple with a slightly painful suck, asked you softly.

You nodded, words still evading you. Your brain was starting to go numb with pleasure, and truth be told, you felt as if you were nearing your climax in record time. Yunho, however, noticed your eyes start to roll back as you suppressing your incoming orgasm, so he stopped. He wanted, nay, needed to be inside you and feel your walls tighten around his throbbing penis.

Yunho leaned away from you to remove his own clothes, making you miss the warmth of his physical contact. Your arms reached out for him silently, and that’s when you noticed that Yunho’s face was twisted into a painful frown.

“Yunho?” you whispered, a word finally leaving your lips. “What’s wrong?”

Immediately shaking his head, the frown left, and Yunho smiled at you, but you could tell that his smile was fake. You knew him well by that point, and that smile was definitely not how he usually smiled at you.

But, you didn’t get time to press further. Yunho was completely naked and about to make love to you. He pinned you on the bed once more and rubbed his cock against your clit a couple times.

There was a little nagging voice in the back of Yunho’s mind, and that voice was a mix between San and Mingi telling him not to fuck you. And he seriously didn’t want to because he wanted you to stay alive for him, but the thought of not being able to sleep with you ever again also drove him insane.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Yunho whispered.

You didn’t know what Yunho was apologizing for— you thought it was because he thrust into you so hard without warning, but it was really because he was sorry for what was going to happen to you after. His cock went deep inside you and nearly hit your cervix, but Yunho controlled himself because he didn’t want you to cum so fast. He wanted to fuck you for as long as humanly possible. He wondered if he could just keep his penis inside you until the end of time, that way you could stay alive, but he was itching to move.

Your back arched with every stroke of pleasure, and you felt yourself get lightheaded as euphoria approached. The way Yunho was rolling his hips into you made you feel so fucking good, so fucking sexy, and you wanted more and more. You held onto his shoulders and pulled him towards you, connecting your lips with his, and you kept your hold on him as you desperately made out with him.

You missed Yunho too. Although it was just your brain, you missed having such satisfying sex with him. He made you feel incredibly good when he ran his hands along your waist and over your hips, and his long cock filled you so well that you felt like your cunt was truly made for him.

“Oh my God, Yunho!” you stopped kissing him and cried out when you felt his waist start slamming into yours. “Faster!”

Yunho shivered. Hearing you order him around nearly made him cum. Nonetheless, he listened to you. He thrust into you as fast as he could, making you feel like his penis was going to pull your insides out with his speed, girth, and power. You felt your head press further back into the pillow below your head, your hold on Yunho getting tighter to the point where you were definitely leaving nail marks in his skin.

“Fu-uck,” Yunho bit out. “I’m cumming.”

He didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to, but he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, especially not after seeing you all sexy and disheveled under you. Shutting his eyes tightly and letting a singular tear roll down his cheek, Yunho released his load in you, his white and sticky cum filling you up.

The feeling of Yunho’s cum spurting into you was the final thing you needed to bring you to climax. As soon as he pulled out, you came loudly, your cry echoing loudly in the room.

What Yunho feared happened almost immediately. Your hold on him weakened, your arms slipping to your sides. He immediately wrapped his arms around you and brought you up, desperately praying that if he did anything, you wouldn’t pass. He kissed your lips, ran his hands through your hair, placed his hand over your heart, but nothing. Just as it was for centuries, forty-two was the unfortunate number, and the two of you had reached it.

You felt your conscious slipping from you, and as your eyelids grew heavy, you noticed that Yunho’s form had suddenly changed. He went from being the tall man with the fair skin and soft brown hair to this red skinned, horned devil with scales covering his body and wings sprouting from his back. He looked like himself, but it was a horrible terrifying version of himself with solid, black eyes, fangs, and long ears that stuck straight out of the side of his head. In other words, Yunho was a demon, and you knew that he was right in your last moments— you immediately knew that sex with Yunho was not a dream, and that you were most definitely awake every time you consciously fucked him.

His demon form terrified you to the point where you were able to let out a scream and try your best to get away from him, but you passed out before you could even push you away, and soon, everything faded to black for you. Completely. Forever.

Yunho, seeing that he had actually transformed into his demon self right before you fully died, was mortified. How could your very last memory of him be his true self and not the man of your dreams? He felt like in the most literal sense that he scared you to death.

Yunho finally understood how Yeosang felt. He stayed in his invisible demon form and kept an eye on your decaying body until someone discovered you. He followed you all the way to the hospital and accompanied your family as they set up a proper funeral for you.

During the entire funeral, Yunho wept. He had so, so many regrets. He regretted having sex with you so many times, he regretted not stopping before he hit forty-two, and he regretted not telling you that he loved you. He did not, however, regret falling in love with you. If he could, he’d do it all over again.

Yunho seriously could not move on after you. He found some people to help him elongate his life, but he couldn’t live with the guilt of knowing that he killed the love of his life. San and Mingi did their best to help Yunho keep it together, but the same way Yeosang had vanished, Yunho did too. There was no point in staying around if he couldn’t be with you.

#ateez #jeong yunho #yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez yunho #jeong yunho ateez #yunho ateez #jeong yunho smut #broatz #broatz request

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violetasteracademic · 28 days

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Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow: Chapter One (Ao3 Azriel x Elain FanFic)

Friends! I have been living, dreaming, breathing this Azriel and Elain fanfiction I've been writing. I've got about 5 chapters so far and 30k words solidly edited and so much more still to write. I've been patiently waiting for my Ao3 invite and finally have Chapter One up today!

There are notes on the chapter, but please be aware that while I would not categorize as dark romance there are some darker themes. All warnings and triggers are listed.

This is a canon text and timeline *inspired* piece and my interpretation of a story that could be blended with the time after Solstice, as well as the inclusion of some personal theories and also just plain fun possibilities. My Elain has earth fae powers (where did the CC earth fae come from? Why does no one from Prythian or Erilea have them?!) and carranam will be explored. I'll link to the full chapter on Ao3 at the bottom!

Prieview:

Elain

She hadn’t slept in a week. Not since Azriel had given her that beautiful necklace. It felt so personal, so intimate. Just a few nights before Solstice festivities began, she had teased him about whether or not he would be getting her a gift this year. His cheeks turned a shade of pink she hadn’t seen since the day she called his scarred hands beautiful. Hands he had used to clasp the necklace around her neck, sending shivers down each nob of her spine to the tips of her toes while his touch lingered on bared skin. The ghost of that touch still burned into her nape like a brand.

She had thought all of the glances and secret touches that passed between them had finally culminated to that moment. She could have sworn she heard his shadows whispering to her, letting her know what was in his heart. It was how she was always able to hear him when no one else could. How she could understand what he was thinking as he lingered in quiet corners, that hard mask set in stone on his face. She wanted to run her fingers over that mask. Kiss it softly until those hardened edges cracked beneath her lips and set him free.

His shadows spoke to her, and she watched the glimmer flash across his eyes when she’d silently send her own thoughts back into the darkness. Rhys and Feyre had their way of communicating when no one else could hear them. She and Azriel had theirs.

Why then had he turned away from her? His shadows were swarming, mirroring her whispered yes, yes, yes. She knew in her bones he had wanted to kiss her. Knew he wanted to do much more than that. She could feel the air between them crackling and pressurizing as he lowered his mouth to hers. She didn’t think he realized he had sent a slither of his shadows skittering over every inch of her as he slid his fingers through her hair and angled her head to receive him. Those shadows still held on to her after he had stopped, close enough to her lips that she could feel his labored breaths tickling her nose.

And then he was gone.

It was a mistake.

How could she have been so wrong? Maybe she truly had gone mad. Maybe she somehow lost herself again, unable to build that mental wall between the world in front of her eyes and the raging visions that plagued her mind. She had gotten better. Or she thought she had. And yet Azriel truly did not want her. When his shadows finally loosened their grip, it was as if they were the only thing keeping her standing. Her knees buckled and hit the floor. She gasped in pain. Her skin turned fiery and unbearable. She nearly ripped the necklace off. Nearly brought the element of her powers she kept hidden even from Azriel up from the ground to rip out every floorboard and shred her skin where he had touched her. Just so she had something to show for it. Blood and scrapes and scars to erase the feeling of his hands on her to replace them with something she could see with her eyes and not just her mind. To ensure she hadn’t imagined all of it.

Sometimes, when she felt herself getting lost again, she’d hold up her palms out in the garden. Call forth the thorn covered vines to wrap around her wrists and dig in just so she could keep track of where she was. The pain had become a comfort. The blood a reminder of the ground beneath her. Baking and cooking helped in the same way. She knew everyone thought less of her for not showing a warriors strength like her sisters, for not being more interesting. But menial tasks were often the only way she could manage to get through the day. Tasks that resulted in physical evidence of what she had been doing. Blood on her hands. Flour on her nose. The sweat from the sun or the heat from the oven. Proof that she hadn’t left herself again. Breathing, and breathing, and breathing through it all.

Azriel didn’t want her. She tossed and turned in the sheets, trying to will down the ache in her chest that pressed down with such intensity she had to keep a bucket next to the bed in case she became sick from it. He didn’t want her. She truly had gone mad thinking that he did.

The larks began chittering in the trees outside the window, alerting that dawn would be breaking soon. Resigned to the sleepless night, she pulled a plush lavender fleece lined robe Nuala and Cerridwen had gotten her for solstice (so similar to the fuzzy blankets she had picked up for them) and padded down the stairs. Moving around the world as quietly as the wraiths. It brought a certain kind of peace to stay in the background. It still brought a flush to her cheeks if someone asked her a question or called for her while her visions moved across her mind. She couldn’t always orient herself away from them quickly enough to avoid concerned looks. She was so tired of the wary eyes on her. Always waiting. Always worried. It was easier to stay hidden.

The kitchen was softly lit with faelight, just enough to start quietly gathering ingredients and kitchenwares to make scones. Snowflakes drifted over the garden, large and fluffy, clinging to the stripped buds of the winterberries harvested right before Solstice. It still took adjusting to be met with the sight of falling snow and simply enjoy the beauty of it. To bask in the safety and warmth of the townhouse and release the gut clenching anxiety that used to grip her on snowy days in the cottage. Wondering how many nights she and her sisters could make it through another winter with threadbare blankets and hardly enough food to survive. She shook her head, clearing memories. Azriel had helped her move on from that. And now she had to find the strength to move on from him. She would do it. She always did, even if no one ever truly saw how deep she had to dig to get out of bed and face each day with a smile.

I hope you fall for this story as much as I have. These two are so dreamy to write.

#elriel #pro elain archeron #pro elriel #azriel x elain #elain x azriel #elriel endgame #elriel fanfic #spicy elriel fanfic

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bvckandeddie · 18 hours

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @devirnis ❤️

How many works do you have on ao3?

if we include both of my ao3 psuedonyms (which we are, otherwise this would be a very boring ask meme) i have 14 works!

What's your total ao3 word count?

561,661 😳

What fandoms do you write for?

i’ve most recently written for 9-1-1, but i’ve also written for Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Top five fics by kudos:

reality strikes, so bring back the night (ATLA)

That Midnight Sky (ATLA)

swords of fate, pride of heart (ATLA)

i could (never) give you peace (ATLA)

what a heart can do (9-1-1)

Do you respond to comments?

i try my best, yes!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

no angsty endings, god bless 🫶

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

oh gosh, i don’t know. they’re all happy! i suppose That Midnight Sky because i really put sokka and zuko through it in that one, lmao.

Do you get hate on fics?

uh, yeah, lmao. just once! one of the very first comments on hurt locker was someone who was very unhappy with the decisions eddie made throughout that fic. i think maybe they just didn't understand the concept of POV storytelling ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Do you write smut?

i let much more talented writers than me fill that gap in the literature!

Craziest crossover:

not really a crossover in terms of ao3 categorization, but maybe the Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU i wrote for buddie?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don’t think so, but i do know that i could (never) give you peace is on goodreads somewhere. wish it wasn’t!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! someone recently translated i could (never) give you peace into russian! super, super cool.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

YES, i co-wrote the amazing fruity beverages with megan aka @engagedzukka aka @crosspin. brainstorming that entire universe and collaborating with such an incredible writer was so fun, and it was a huge highlight of 2021. (hi megan ily 🥰❤️ can you believe we wrote that over three years ago???)

All time favourite ship?

my evergreen relationships that i could go find a fic for at literally any time are stony, arthur/eames, and spirk. buddie though…there’s something really special with them 🥹❤️

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i started a really angsty fic last summer when i was in a bad mood (lol) where eddie and buck kind of knew about the potential of what they could be together. after the lightning strike, eddie was ready to take that next step, but then buck got together with natalia. i kind of just wanted eddie and buck to yell at each other a little bit, y'know? exploring their relationship breakdown was really cathartic for me at the time. with the direction the show is taking now, i don’t know if it’s something that i’ll finish. it seems like the fandom has swiftly moved on from that era of the show, and fair enough. we’re all on the bucktommy train now, right? choo choo! 🚂

What are your writing strengths?

i love writing dialogue!!!! i love writing dialogue so much!!!! it's so snappy and boom boom boom, y'know? all of a sudden i have 1k written and life is amazing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

i really hate inner monologue. i’ll write it, because it’s integral to the story, but I’m never like, oh my god, i’m so thrilled to be writing this inner monologue stuff right now, lol. let’s get back to the meat and potatoes of the story, people! dialogue!

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

i do not know another language, so i tend to steer clear of it, because i know how google translate fails us all.

First fandom you wrote in?

ha. ha ha. the mortal instruments by cassandra clare. i still get occasional favourites on my clace and malec stories from fanfiction dot net. i didn't even FINISH the clace one! anyways.

Favourite fic you've written?

this is hard! i can't pick just one! TMS holds a really special place in my heart because it was the first idea for a story where i was like, wait, i think i could actually write this and finish it. and then i did! and the zukka fandom was so fucking sweet and kind about it.

i’m also really proud of what a heart can do because i was nervous about writing an original child character and i worried i wouldn’t be able to do the story justice. but the reception has been incredible! i genuinely cannot believe i wrote that fic in between doing research and writing my thesis. how did i do that?!?

one fic that i really, really love is swords of fate, pride of heart. i wrote that fic in like, a week. it was insane. the fic is so ridiculous, and it was so fucking fun to write. whenever i get a comment on it, i usually go back and reread a portion of it and i'm always a little in awe of my past self. like, yeah, i wrote that.

this was so fun to do!! tagging @captain-hen @wildlife4life @shitouttabuck @colonoscopys @eddiebabygirldiaz @traumabuddies @try-set-me-on-fire @hattalove and @kananjarus if you feel like it! my activity feed is super messed up rn thanks to that ‘first base is/second base is’ post lmao so i’m really sorry if i missed anyone or if you’ve been tagged already 😭❤️

#thank you ali for tagging me ❤️#coming out as a zukka enjoyer but i think anyone who pays attention probably has already realized that LOL #tag games

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pastafossa · 1 year

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how long did it take for your fanfiction to start getting some recognition? did you "advertise" it or "promote" it in any way?

i know that people say this doesn't matter, but i feel like even if you love writing the feeling that you're just talking to yourself gets pretty exhausting at some point. so i'm not talking about having thousands of readers but rather like. what's your advice to have readers at least?

- someone who hasn't even started writing their ideas yet...

LONG POST INCOMING.

First I want you (and everyone else reading who may be struggling with this) to know I'm absolutely with you and generally think 'it doesn't matter' is a horseshit answer. It's this weird thing we do in fanfic that we generally don't apply to other artforms that I've seen. If you're a painter, a playwriter, a novel writer, and you say, 'I want at least a few people to love my paintings, I want some people to come see my play, I want my novel to be published and do at least ok' we all support them, we nod, we agree, we talk about how they can do that successfully. It's considered normal to want some amount of success. But hold up fanfic instead and it becomes, 'how dare you want that praise, you're being egotistical, you should be writing only for yourself'. I'm not saying you can't do that - there are some who do - but it's definitely this bizarre switchup to say there's this single artform in which we can't want attention on our work and that there's something wrong with us if we do. That can be an absolute creativity killer depending on what kind of writer you are (hi, extrovert writer here who only gets writy writy juice from social interaction - aka comments and discussion. So I totally get it being exhausting just doing this on your own).

So let me say this categorically: you're allowed to want things. You're allowed to want kudos, comments, and hits. You're allowed to want messages and asks. You're allowed to want some readers you can talk with about your story.

You. Are. Allowed.

Ok, now that that's out of the way.

Edit: more below the cut cause I didn't realize the length of this on mobile

TRT definitely didn't get popular overnight. The first four chapters were sporadic, and then I took a hiatus due to life things for a couple years. During that time, it kept slowly ticking up bit by bit on AO3, with occasional comments. Iirc it was hovering somewhere around 700 kudos by the time I came back in Jan 2021 - and that's a awesome! It's big! But it's also a number that was gained over a few years, to put it in perspective. It absolutely took off after I came back though, and over the past 2 years both TRT's popularity and the stats of my one-shots in the fandom have grown. Part of that's just the time frame (TRT's been up about 6 years), but it's also due to a couple things that I think built up TRT's popularity.

Building a tumblr presence was huge. Ironically I didn't really intend to do it for advertising; I just wanted a place readers could ask questions or we could all freak out about Matt or I could post some drabbles or updates on the fic. But considering the fact that AO3 and tumblr are the top fic sites online, I wound up promoting my fics unintentionally just by being a friendly, happy tumblr user and fandom goer. All I did was follow the courtesy rules I knew - post stuff regularly, reblog, comment, make friends with other writers, just be friendly in your neighborhood because you love the lady with the gif flower shop on the corner or the wise old pizza maker who serves hot fandom takes all day long. I built familiarity with my writing and name by posting short fics, and by taking part in challenges and prompt lists and short requests for drabbles if I saw them, though that's something that's hard to do if you don't have time (I've got less time now, but I started this blog in the early pandemic so I had aaaaall the time in the world to write and was using it to stay sane). I tagged religiously because I LOVE tags, but that helped, too. Tumblr's search system is half broken but the half that works means people CAN find your writing even if they aren't following. Doing all this over here got me a huge boost over on AO3.

I will say that if you can have a fandom tiktok presence, there's a lot of fic reviewers, edits, and good stuff that can get your fic some readers (I've had some people do this on tiktok for TRT and it sent a surge over). I personally haven't done anything there yet, in part because while I'm on tiktok I try to keep my actual, real person accounts separate from my fic/fandom accounts and i haven't bothered to make a second account solely dedicated to the Pasta name yet.

Longfics on AO3 have the advantage in fic stats in the sense that every time you add a chapter, it gets bumped to the top of the front page and you get seen again. Eventually a lot of people will click out of curiosity. They may not, however, give you a lot of user subs or add to your other fic stats at first, whereas if you do a bunch of oneshots you're more likely to get user subs but less hits on each fic. This is a decision you'll have to make, and I know folks in both camps who built their followings using different methods on each. Either way, it helps if you're posting regularly, either in a long fic or one-shots. I call this the Stephen King method, who said he just writes a ton and throws it all at the wall, and eventually you get enough good despite the bad that you start building a following.

Learn learn learn. This is standard fic advice I always give, but it's still relevant. I think one of the reasons imo TRT has done so well is that I've spent a lot of time over the years learning how to write and edit - I read a ton of books (sometimes just to figure out HOW good authors structure their stories), I took a lot of English classes, I've taken some creative writing courses in my spare time. That two year hiatus was heavily spent doing a lot of research and practice around an original novel I want published one day. And I used ALL of that in TRT, just to see what it was like to put it all together. Be hungry for knowledge, be hungry to learn. The more you learn, the better your fic will be, and the more people that will click.

That learning also includes a looooong string of fanfics that started at a very novice level (hello 12 year old me), to fics that were ok and did moderately well but weren't anything huge. Hell, I had a tumblr account for my previous fandoms before I wandered over to Pastafossa, and while those fics did decently, I never had the huge reaction I've gotten here. But I used each and every one of those fics to learn and grow and adapt. Treat your own fics the same way. If it doesn't get hits, try to learn from it before moving on to the next idea a little wiser and a slightly better writer than before. There will always be people who start to follow you along the way.

A small one, but important: I swear to god, do not shit-talk yourself. Not in the summary, not in the tags, not in the A/Ns. I'm not talking, 'this is my first fic!' That's fine. I mean trashing your own work. Shit like, 'ha ha this sucks, it's terrible but oh well' will absolutely lower your stats, because people will believe you and will ditch your fic. On top of that, it's just mean to yourself, and as I said above, you want to be a good person in the fandom neighborhood. That means not breaking the windows of your own house.

People generally think of summaries as a side note, but a shitty summary can absolutely tank your stats. Treat it like the rest of your fic - this is the trailer before the movie, and it's a huge element of what gets people interested in the first place.

Lastly, like I said at the top, the biggest factor is time. There are people who post one fic and explode in popularity, absolutely. But far, far more little followings are built on the bones of time, of abandoned fics, of muttering and highlighting phrases in books in the middle of the night, of trying and trying and trying until we have at last have a breakthrough and then drag that breakthrough forward with us to the next fic. TRT is absolutely one part lightning in a bottle - the biggest success I've ever had anywhere with my writing, a confluence of fandom factors and world events that gave people (and me!) time to write and read. But it's also standing on the back of whole lot of fics I wrote that look like everyone else's: ones with no comments, low interaction, insults; ones where I had precisely zero idea of what I was doing, but wanted to try anyway. And the way I got through that, as a writer who needs interaction in order to create, was by building friendships in fandom so that even when a fic didn't do all that well, I still had friends I could talk to about the characters, the world, the fandom itself. I asked friends to look them over and give advice. I had friends being my cheerleaders. And if you're an extrovert like me, or just a writer who needs that to create, then those connections are vital as you build up a following.

That's a lot of what I've done. I know there are other ways to build a following, but this is generally what I've done, what I've learned to do, and it seems to have worked. Just remember that there are no bad fics - just learning opportunities. Learn something, and that fic's a success, and work as hard as you can to make those fandom connections to carry you through the process.

I absolutely hope to see your work around one day, so that I can be on of those followers!

#writing advice #fic advice #fic tips #building a following #fanfic #fic #writing tips #tbh i was shocked and still kind of am by how popular trt's become #because i have had ZERO previous experiences in my fic writing time that aligned #BUT #there are absolutely things I did in hindsight I think that helped a ton #and all of the practice and writing fic including the ones with zero interaction helped #i learned how to be a good fandom goer even when i didn't write #because i genuinely loved my little neighborhoods #and i used a lot of that when i started writing again cause why wouldn't i???#also avoid petty fandom drama you don't need to waste your energy on it #i WANT my blog to generally be a positive space cause i've got shit going on elsewhere and i don't need more #but that also means i think that people like wandering through cause they know there's a lot of happy things here #be the person in the neighborhood watering your daisies and putting out a rainbow pinwheel even when ted down the block #is feuding with susan up the block over the height of ted's fence

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swallow-the-bird · 6 months

Note

Do you have any favorite Harry Potter ships?

Well, besides my all-time favorite Grindeldore, I’m actually quite eclectic in my tastes! 🤣

Snarry, Snamione, Snily, Jily, Hedric, Dnarry, Sirry… I’ve read fanfictions about all of them, and I’ve enjoyed them. Perhaps it’s because the Harry Potter fandom has so many talented writers. As long as the story is captivating, I’m thrilled to read it!

There’s another pairing that I initially thought was improbable, but later became infatuated with—

Harrymort/Tomarry!!

***** ‼️ LONG post alert ‼️ Oh, whenever I get to a topic that excites me, I always end up being such a chatterbox🤣Please also be aware of what I say below is only my VERY SUBJECTIVE opinions ‼️ *****

While Harrymort/Tomarry seem to have a lover-enemy dynamic similar to Grindeldore, the premise for each is vastly different. Gellert and Albus once passionately loved each other in their youth, while Tom/Voldemort and Harry share deep animosity and are destined adversaries. How could they possibly be together? Moreover, I once believed that Tom Riddle was an emotionless monster. (But I don’t mean that in a derogatory sense!)

While Gellert might be categorized as a sociopath, capable of true loyalty and emotions towards a select few - Albus Dumbledore- and taking a lifetime to learn how to love, he at least has the capacity to love. This is evident when he ultimately understands the true meaning of remorse and willingly sacrifices his life to protect another’s grave.

But what about Tom?

In my eyes, Tom is a complete psychopath. Perhaps his traumatic childhood twisted his moral compass, but some characteristics seem innate and psychological. Tom’s emotional blunting seems more pronounced. He inherently lacks empathy and remorse. Even if he can comprehend others’ emotions and manipulate them, he doesn’t genuinely understand or empathize with them, which is why he can’t grasp the concept of remorse. Hence, he chose to become Voldemort. This made me question:

How can such a person love? He doesn’t even understand what love is.

This mirrors Gellert’s scathing taunt to Voldemort, “…there is so much you do not understand—!”

Yes, Tom Riddle—Voldemort— does not, and cannot understand love. But can he?

Some of my favorite authors have remarked:

“Yes, Tom Riddle—Voldemort— does not understand love, and he may never be able to. But just because you don’t understand something, does that mean you can’t have it?”

Harry is like a reflection of Tom Riddle. While Tom Riddle, in his hatred and fear, denied love and chose to become Voldemort, Harry, despite facing the same hatred and fear, came to understand what courage meant and chose love.

“Just by letting Harry see even the tiniest hint of Voldemort’s humanity, he will bravely embrace that one-in-a-million hope.”— Oh yes, hope. This is how many Tomarry/Harrmort fictions begin their stories.

Harry might harbor hatred for Voldemort for a lifetime, but the essence of forgiveness isn’t the absence of hate; it’s about learning to move on. If there’s anyone willing to embrace a shattered soul with such heinous crimes, it would be Harry Potter. Just as he has embraced death with the same courage, it’s this Harry who, when confronting his lifelong nemesis, still chooses “Expelliarmus”.

This love-hate story is inevitably not just about the hopes and courage of love, but also about its pain and despair. It makes us question the nature of love, hate, life, death, and humanity.

Harry understands love, so he believes in humanity, which gives him hope and courage, especially when mired in human flaws and tragedies.

“You see the world in such a unique way; I believe even despair seems colorful to someone like you.”—this is a line from one of my favorite Harrmort stories, “One thing he will never know”. In it, Harry chooses to cling to that sliver of hope in Voldemort and falls hopelessly in love with him. When Harry grapples with guilt, Dumbledore leaves him with this wisdom.

"It may seem terribly wrong, but if I may venture a guess, it must also feel so right," were Dumbledore's last words to the boy, "Harry, I don't think there is any shame in love. You must never doubt that when someone has been loved like this, it always leaves a mark, and that it will eventually change everything. You are much braver than I ever was.”

Thanks to these brilliant fanfictions, I’ve come to believe in the heart Voldemort thought he never had. Even if it’s fractured, it still exists, and a sliver of humanity remains. Perhaps we all need a broad perspective to see the world:

Not understanding love doesn’t mean you can’t have it.

I just realized I wrote so much! Maybe it’s because I’ve never shared my love for Tomarry/Harrmort with anyone after Grindeldore. Here’s my chance!

PS One of my favorite fanfictions, “One thing he will never know,” is written by a talented Taiwanese author in Chinese.If you’re interested, you can check it out here:

(* I've taken the liberty of translating some of the lines that impressed me most into English, as I wrote above.)

I also have read many excellent Tomarry/Harrmort stories from the English fandom. If you have any recommendations, please share them with me!

#harry potter #grindeldore #albus dumbledore #gellert grindelwald #tomarry #Harrmort #this is love and what love can be #my very subjective opinion again #voldemort #tom riddle

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yanderes-galore · 6 months

Note

Hey, I wasn't able to be here for the request period, so may I request some calliope and caliborn hcs?

-🎭 anon

Ohh... my weakness- Of course I can! I'd love to write for them in the future too so here's my ideas on them (As there isn't much content for them, probably due to their nature as I learned when writing this.)

Allow me to indulge in brainrot ;p Your anon name makes sense! Hope it's long enough-

Yandere! Calliope + Caliborn Concept

Pairing: Flushed❤️/Pitch♠️ (Hard to categorize when it comes to Cherubs)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Rivalry, Jealousy, Delusional behavior, Stalking, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Sadism, OOC Cherubs at times, Possessive behavior, Mentions of "NSFW" (not actually, it is to Caliborn), Restraints mention, Forced relationship.

These two are the complete opposites of each other.

Yet they both also share similarities, such as a passion for drawing and delusional.

They're both intense for two different reasons.

Calliope is overbearing and delusional while Caliborn is sadistic and overbearing (along with delusional).

The two would be an issue to be around be them sharing the same body or separate.

For this I'll focus on them both separated.

Let's start with Calliope.

Calliope is certainly the nicer of the two.

She's delusional and often fantasizes about you.

Calliope is very passionate about her obsession.

She'd write fanfiction and create drawings of you and her Trollsona.

Calliope struggles with her obsession as her kind only really feels pitched for others.

Despite this... when she meets you she can't help but pour all her fantasies onto paper.

She hides things away from you for now but she certainly has a stash.

Calliope would be clingy with you and very delusional with her views.

When she sees you she clouds her vision with the fantasies she's created about you and her.

She believes you already love her and simply haven't said anything.

Even if you told her you don't like her she still uses her fantasies to stay all cheery.

Calliope would rarely wish to leave your side.

She's obsessive and often wants to try more flushed things with you.

Her kind is incapable of reproducing in such a way but she tries to mimic it with you.

Oh she really does wish she was a troll...

That way even if you were human you and her could properly have a relationship.

She'll probably follow you around everywhere to note new things down for her fanfiction and art.

Calliope would soon even show you all the work she made of you and her to show how she feels.

She loves you and hopes you'll see the adoration she has for you an accept her!

Even if she can't quite feel flushed, she would at least like to try friendship and go from there!

Then there's Caliborn.

Completely different from Calliope.

The idea of being flushed or even friends to him is naughty to him.

As a result, he'd be harsher with you.

He likes to put you through sadistic games.

Caliborn likes to make you hate him, often playing with your emotions to see your reaction.

He sticks closer to the Cherub's Pitch relationship behavior.

He's clever and arrogant, often teasing you just to mess with you.

Caliborn is much more possessive and a bit less delusional than Calliope.

Caliborn sees your little "relationship" as a game and you as a toy.

He's certainly the darker yandere of the two.

He's threatening at times and sometimes uses flushed behavior to "torment" you.

It's not very tormenting to you, everything else he does is though.

Despite the fact Caliborn wants you to "hate" him, he doesn't want you to leave him.

In fact, he won't let you leave him.

He plans to shadow you just like Calliope in a clingy fashion.

In fact, Caliborn loves to be dramatic around you, often mocking you at times just to have you express your hatred for him.

Caliborn also gives you art, but it's of... questionable quality.

Seriously, you have no idea what he gave you.

He claims it's NSFW but you have... no idea-

Calliope is someone who wants to experienced flushed feelings for you while Caliborn falls more into pitched.

When they're one body it's chaotic but somewhat easy to manage.

You can tell who's active by their cheek and eye colors.

When green you expect to be smothered by affection, when red you expect to be toyed with for your emotions.

They never want you speaking about the other.

When Calliope is active she expresses distaste and irritation at Caliborn's name, asking as politely as she can that you don't utter it.

She shows more annoyance when she sees you crying or upset because of what Caliborn did.

Caliborn hates you mentioning his "sister", wanting you to focus on him.

Trying to make him jealous, are you? Don't bring her up. He may just make things worse.

When the two are in separate bodies things get worse.

Now the two are fighting each other in an attempt to garner your attention.

You're flooded with mixed messages and views and odd gifts.

Calliope wants you to love and pay attention to her while Caliborn wants you to focus on hating him.

It often becomes Calliope trying to keep Caliborn away from you in fear he'll harm you while Caliborn doesn't want Calliope taking his "toy".

The two may come up with the idea of "cuffing" you to them.

If they're a singular body then you'll have a cuff on your wrist attaching to them.

Then you're essentially forced to play along.

If they're separate?

Both hands are cuffed to a different cherub... and your even more stuck.

Calliope and Caliborn express the two different behaviors a yandere can have.

Smothering/affectionate... and cruel/destructive.

Together the two may be bearable.

You may be able to deal with them if there's balance.

Yet alone they're just as bad as one another.

They're intense, obsessive, and bad to be around.

You'll either be smothered by affection or swallowed by an overwhelming hatred.

This is what makes the cherubs interesting to write.

They're both two extremes.

There's no sharing when it comes to them either.

They'll fight and argue because they both want you.

The two will keep tugging and pulling at you for your attention... all because they want you to themselves...

Up until you break, one way or another.

#yandere homestuck #yandere calliope #yandere caliborn #yandere cherubs #yandere homestuck x reader

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olderthannetfic · 1 year

Note

You might get a kick out of this article someone linked me to, to try and argue that BL is in fact fetishizing (because Yada Yada women consume it and produce it and all that)

https://www.youthoutright.org/articles/fetishization-of-the-queer-community

Article is a fairly short read. But I have to chuckle at it as "evidence" since it makes a fair amount of claims with 0 sources:

That young teenage women make up a majority of fandom (and that's whose consuming/producing BL)

Straight, white women get paid more to write gay romance novels (and that these novels often feature Adonis like males with 0% body fat and no body hair; play into gender/hetero norms)

Etc.

Honestly the....article, if I can even call it that, isn't cohesive. I do find myself agreeing with its first two paragraphs...and surprisingly only the first two. However, this article spends a lot of its time focusing on fetishization of Trans bodies and chasers who go after transfolks bodies (which I'm not too familiar with this so if anyone wants to speak up on this point...)

I'm very confused by how someone could read this and think "this proves my point!"

Sigh.

I don't even agree with the beginning. Trashy "girl-on-girl" isn't what's making men think women exist to serve them. Society is doing that. Porn is a reflection, not a cause.

Not to mention the fact that f/f-for-dudes is astronomically common compared to shitheads pestering lesbians in bars. The latter are too common because the correct amount is 0, but just based on the numbers, a lot of dudes are capable of consuming this porn without being confused about what's fiction and what's reality.

The mass quantities of f/f-for-dudes do make it hard to find f/f-for-ladies, but this article has taken the wrong message from that. The correct takeaway is that we need better labeling and search features that are driven by the nerdy desire to categorize and not by algorithms that want to sell you stuff.

As long as het romance novels or porno movies for straight guys or bestselling thrillers or whatever are popular, they're going to drown out the algorithmic results for more niche things one is interested in.

Libraries and AO3 don't have this problem. Amazon and Youtube do.

the world of “slash fiction” (fanfiction portraying a romantic and often sexual relationship between characters from a given source) began centering gay men

Wow, article writer. So you know nothing then.

it’s been claimed that straight, white women are paid more than gay men by publishers to write gay romances

I'm honestly embarrassed for this article writer. First, most of this burgeoning field is selfpub anyway. Second, many established writers in the romance field are women, and established names will probably have a shot at better pay than new people.

Third, anyone who injects "white" like this is a moron and a wanker. If we're talking about racism in the Romance field (and boy howdy is there a lot), white gay men are no better, and men's race is just as relevant as women's. Either we're talking about race or we're not.

As it stands, this author just comes across as a misogynist piece of shit.

The overwhelming majority of these romances portray relationships between white, cis, abled men with no fat or body hair.

I have bad news for them about cis gay men's media. (Well, okay, some of that has a lot of body hair and interminable descriptions of the smell of ball sweat and stinky armpits, but still...)

Men who fit the first archetype will take the position of “top” in the numerous, inaccurate, graphic-as-possible sex scenes that are central to these stories and also appear to be central to many readers’ enjoyment.

I see we're in the usual "I, a sex-repulsed person, speak for all of humanity" mode.

People like horny art. News at 11.

These are complex issues deeply rooted in society. It’s difficult to envision mitigations and solutions. However, somewhere to begin would certainly be promoting more positive, intersectional, realistic representations of queer people and queer relationships. A vital action that can further this goal is choosing to consume media with queer representation that was created by queer people whenever possible.

Honestly, my response to this ending is:

Fuck off, you entitled git.

This uninformed little whiner is equating all kinds of unequal things. Chasers are all over the place, but they aren't the ones writing fanfic or any other amateur, personal writing. We have no right to other people's hobby time. Sure, we can vote with our feet, and we should, but this article doesn't really sound like it's advocating that: it sounds like it's crying that other people have different taste from the writer. Boo, hoo, hoo, someone I don't like got attention.

It's the usual ignorant trash.

Embarrassing.

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visaviae · 2 months

Text

The Great Escape

I've read an unreasonable amount of Worm Fanfiction. About 289 fanfics - all of which I've categorized and rated on this spreadsheet here. A more insane way to put that is that I've read 2.32% of Wormfic, discluding smut.

The Great Escape by ColossalMistake is my favorite Wormfic bar none.

I'm a sucker for some cover art, and it starts off with some awesome cover art by owl_hat, whose stuff you can find here. There's a ton of character just put into the designs - from how ratty Acidbath looks, the joy on String Theory's face, the mundacity of Teacher or the slightly haunting gaze of Glaistig Uaine.

The short of the premise is that after Echidna, after Alexandria, the Birdcage has a breakout, and Eidolon tries to recapture all the villains. The fic does a perfect bead on Eidolon's characterization. He's not evil, but he's not a good person. He's a little arrogant and egotistical - but he's earned the right to be. And at the end of the day, the only thing he cares about is helping people.

I stared those sins dead in the eye every morning, every time I was too slow to save someone or too weak to help in the ways that mattered.

Throughout the fic, he uses dozens of powers. They range from things that he feels are useless, or potent powers but ones that aren't potent enough. He's constantly reminiscing about his glory days, about when he used to be stronger - about when he used to be *better.* Honestly? The powers are interesting enough that I should compile a list of them one day.

The first chapter starts off a little calm. David is ruminating over the events of the Echidna and Alexandria incidents - fresh wounds for him, isolated from some of the only people he can call friends. He's ruined. His allies don't trust him, he's not on speaking terms with Legend, he's put at arms-length by Cauldron to be reserved for the final battle.

“You’re a monster, David, plain and simple. We might have to work with you against the Endbringers, but you don’t have any friends here. Not anymore.”

The Great Escape scratches an itch for an Eidolon headcanon I have - that before his powers started dimming, and even after, he acted something like Scion. Flying around the world, helping as many people as can in as many ways as he could. Becoming less a person, and more the mask - more Eidolon.

Away went David, and out came Eidolon.

The chapter continues into something a little more manic as the news of the Birdcage breakout - well, breaks out. There's this sort of building tension with each name that's been dropped, starting from more niche characters to Black Kaze, to people who had little showings of strength like Gavel, all while surrounded by this sort of *blur* of motion as things are breaking down. Snowstorm, satellite issues, frantic responses.

And then it culminates with a line.

“Confirmation from Dragon, Glaistig Uaine’s free!” An air of finality settled over the room as the last picture slid onto screen. A blonde child, her mouth twisted in the mimicry of a smile. I could have sworn that her eyes were peering into mine, despite the photo being two decades old. “It’s not a breach. It’s…all of them. Loose.” I didn’t spare Young Buck a glance, but his bravado appeared to have fled. As the din in the room rose to a fever pitch, I remained silent. I’d asked for another chance to be useful. A second chance to help as many people as possible before they put me on a shelf, a relic to be laughed at before the end of the world. God had answered. Now it was my turn.

I'll talk briefly about the second chapter, too. It's a lengthy interlude that shows a series of snips from the POV of the escapees. Each of them running through the wilderness, plotting and planning. The standout three are Gavel, Black Kaze, and Glaistig Uaine - showing three facets of insanity. The more sadistic and psychopathic kind from Gavel, the more hallucinatory and manic from Kaze - and once again, the chapter comes to a close with the Faerie Queen. A more deluded, a more inhuman form of madness.

But one that she can most certainly back up.

As it stands, there are three sorts arcs. I'll post a line from each that I think encapsulates it all.

First, there's Eidolon struggling with String Theory - delving into his powers and how he feels like a shadow of what he once was. Put into a position that he's intimately familiar with - high stakes, something that only he can do.

But this time, he's not enough.

Then the weapon shattered, its only shot arcing up into the sky. And I didn’t know how to stop it.

Next, there's Pastor and Gavel. This focuses more on how Cauldron has been treating him, keeping him at arms-length, while still giving him a chance to be *useful,* even if he's not recognized for being useful. But Pastor is the more interesting half. We see a glimpse of the earlier days, when Hero was alive and Cauldron was in its infancy - we see a fascinating OC who perverts something that Eidolon holds sacred. His religious background. In Eidolon's own words, he perverts Christian beliefs - and vilifies *him.*

I looked back at Pastor, still with the smile on his face, not in the least bit upset by my actions. Eidolon, the ideal that I was supposed to be, meant so much to so many different people. In here, the man in green was a monster of biblical proportions.

The third arc is unfinished. It focuses on Amp - an OC who's an incredible foil to Eidolon. She's naive, idealistic. She raises complex questions and presents simple answers contrasted to the more jaded Eidolon. She had built up an image of him in her mind as someone who couldn't do wrong - and seeing what her own hero has become, and how she betters him because of that makes my heart soar.

“It isn’t a question of strength,” I said. Every branch of the Elite, from strategic outposts to nerve centres like this one, I could tear them apart root and stem. “Its a question of practicality.” They would doubtlessly lose, but there would be nothing to fill the subsequent vacuum. So they remained. A cancer propping up the west coast.

I love Worm, and I love Eidolon. This fic pays respect to both in a way that I adore. Please go ahead and read it. 7/7.

#worm #wormblr #eidolon #wormfic

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elenasalvatore666 · 1 month

Text

Prompt. HHr. The child of true love or a new prophecy

The child of true love or a new prophecy During the war, Harry and Hermione got together. "We live here and now, tomorrow may not come."A passionate teenage romance was fruitfull with Hermione's pregnancy. Whether other characters know about this is up to the authors of the fanfiction. A girl was born. (for the convenience of presenting the idea I will call her Lily, but the name can be another). For some reason, Harry and Hermione lose her (not of their own free will), for example, she was kidnapped, Harry and Hermione were fooled that the child died, they forgot about her. The main thing is that the reason should be valid, and not that Harry and Hermione sent the child to an orphanage so as not to offend Ron and Ginny. Further victory, but Harry and Hermione's relationship is collapsing, they could not cope with the grief of losing a child. if they forgot about the existence of their daughter - other reasons for the cooling of relations. Harry and Hermione tried to start life with a blank slate, perhaps even got along with the younger Weasleys. But there was no love. Perhaps it coul be good family relationship, but no more. Harry still loves Hermione, Hermione also loves Harry, but they try to put aside their feelings because they don't want to go through the pain they experienced during the war again. Note* I admit that Harry and Hermione could have been married to someone else, but the final pairing should be Harry and Hermione, and in other marriages there can only be sons (both Harry and Hermione have only one daughter). Everything would be fine, but little Lily lived in very difficult conditions. Shelters, abusive foster families. It all ended with the fact that at the age of 10 she escaped from social supervision. And she's been wandering ever since. That's why she didn't go to Hogwarts. Lily embodies the traits of both her parents. She is quite impulsive and categorical. And so she wandered for 4 years (at the time of the events she was 14 years old). She was malnourished, spent the night in abandoned houses, etc. A child who never felt love, care, did not understand she is needed for anyone. She is a very kind person who had to fight for her life alone. Somehow she attracts the attention of the Ministry of Magic./Aurora. It turns out whose daughter she is. Harry and Hermione are in shock. In their opinion, they let their child down so much. Now they're trying to act like her parents. Lily takes it with hostility . She believes that her parents betrayed her, abandoned her. They appeared when she learned to live without them. But in addition to fighting for their daughter, Harry and Hermione must deal with a new prophecy, according to which Lily will be at the center of a new war. The new threat is at the discretion of the authors. New death eaters, Dolphins, the war against Muggles. How our heroes will cope with new challenges and become a family, we will learn from the fanfiction on this prompt.

#fanfic prompt #harry x hermione #harmione #harmony fanfic #hp next gen #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter and hermione granger #harry james potter #harry/hermione #harry potter #hermione granger #next generation #next gen harry potter #hp fandom #harry potter prompts

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paperlovesadness · 10 months

Text

I'm sitting outside in the sun in wet jeans - following advice on how to stretch denim to better fit you - making breathing room for myself and my thighs who are hated by jean sizing everywhere - and I'm getting sappy about Tumblr and fangirling and this community of lovely, unapologetically excited people I've met here.

This is something not many will probably read (long posts can be tough, I get it) - it just kind of all spilled I guess? Incoherently but with passion. So why not set it free when it's already here.

You see - I can't help but credit Tumblr as this huge part of my inner child healing journey. And particularly the girlhood part of it all.

Subconsciously & even consciously I've felt so so ashamed of these "girly" sides of me all my life. Especially in their "prime time" of my tween and teen years. I'd love things secretly - or at most - talk about them only after loudly labelling them as "guilty pleasures" (quite a terrible concept) or acting like it's all done with a tinge of self-aware irony.

But being a hopeless romantic; loving your favorite characters with your whole being; squealing over your favorite music and the musicians who make it; talking about your favorite songs and lyrics and photos; drawing, editing, making fanart of things that make your heart sore; sharing your fantasies and dreams; crying about quotes and big ideas; writing stories - those are all such beautiful things.

I've immersed myself back in the worlds of blogging and fanfiction and musical fangirling and... In many ways I haven't felt this good since I was a kid - still untouched by society and it's shaming of the endless supply of passion I had in me towards the things I loved.

And fangirls are a force. Fangirls are what made the music industry what it is. They're who discovered the Beatles and Leonard Cohen and Frank Sinatra and David Bowie - amongst so many others - and when they did the hard work - only then was it all taken over and appropriated by men who claimed only they can "truly and objectively" appreciate it.

It's girls - bright, unapologetically excited, passionate girls who care for pretty things and things with a soul and things with a story, with romantic connotations - girls who love to curate aesthetically pleasing landscapes and spaces around themselves - it's those girls who contributed hugely to an actual analogue photography and vinyl pressing revival & re-popularization.

I'm in my late twenties. I've only recently let myself pierce my ears and start wearing makeup sometimes. And care openly about my appearance and fashion choices. It's very much still all queer coded and slightly gender-mixed. Because that's me. But caring about these things has always been categorized as a "girl thing" = therefore = shameful, shallow, not something to be proud of.

I'm continuously curing my incredibly hurtful and internally misogynistic complex of "not being like other girls". There are still biases and automatic-judgements I'm fighting on the daily. But it's become so much clearer and easier to do so.

Im more ways than one I want to be exactly like other girls. I want to grab the hands of all the fangirls around this site and dance with them in a circle and tell them they look great whatever they choose to look like and I want to sit down in a meadow and make flower crowns together and squeal over our favorite things.

And to be clear I'm not saying be girly. I'm saying embrace you inner girlhood.

And that could be so many things. Just... Never be ashamed of the parts of it that society deems shallow and embarrassing or worthless.

And just... Thank you for being girlies with me 💗

(girlies & girls as usual used as more of a state of my mind and being; not a strictly gendered term. This applies in all, most or many ways to queer people & of course non-binary and trans experiences).

#thoughts thrown into the tumblr void #kind of like an actual blog post #sorry if it's incoherent or maybe relies too heavily on stereotypes in some ways? I've tried to find better words #when we do inevitably function in such a categorized society - and I hope the divide weakens and ceases to exist entirely one day #in the meantime we still exist here - with these linguistic and actual imposed divides and sometimes we need to heal within them too #I'm making less and less sense aren't I #anyway - maybe this resonates with someone - maybe it doesn't. Maybe you read it - maybe you don't. I think I just needed to say it #this is maybe the best way I could. Eh - words can be such a trap fkr thoughts and inner workings -#but we still love them with their limited waya of helpings is express; don't we. It's the best we've got #/#my posts #thoughts #blog stuff #fangirls #&#girlhood

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chapitre7 · 6 months

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I want to look at the stars with you for another 10.000 days

Midnight Series: Moonlight Chicken พระจันทร์มันไก่ | Moonlight Chicken (TV) fanfiction

HeartLiMing

2k words

For @remapped-soul

Read on AO3

How are you? Are you sleeping? Are you eating? Is it very hard?

Heart’s mom always asks the same questions whenever she calls, hands clasped together after she’s done. Sitting back in his couch, Heart can predict the signs before she even finishes them. His father lets her speak, an arm around her shoulders, his eyes following Heart’s replies. Heart doesn’t mind the flow of their conversation, and he doesn’t think his father is uninterested. Sometimes, his father will wire him money and tell him to buy a book he had mentioned he wanted, or tell him to buy something for dinner when Heart mentions studying late into the night.

His father is always polite to Li Ming when he sees him, while Heart’s mom says Li Ming is too skinny and has dark circles under his eyes and is he taking care of himself, are they taking advantage of him at work, are they treating him well?

Heart understands his father a little more as he learns to live with Li Ming.

He has categorized his smiles — genuine to Heart’s mother, strained when he gets home, tired but warm in the morning. He can tell by the curve of his spine when something is bothering him, and Heart pokes at him until Li Ming speaks. When he wakes up before Li Ming, when he has the privilege to watch Li Ming rise, the pale sunrise on his face, the light reflecting in his eyes, Heart follows every movement he makes. The tilt of his chin, his fingers closing around the blanket, the shadows cast by his eyelashes on his cheek. His lips say good morning and Heart’s lips form the same words, and it still makes Li Ming smile wide, showing all the cherished creases on his face.

Every day settles on him like the warm sun, routine falling into place with ease. Every day, Heart knows a little more. Knows when Li Ming needs to vent his frustrations or excitedly share something new he learned at work. Knows when Li Ming needs to be left alone, eyes still looking for the bartending job he wants but does not yet have. Another day ends, another day begins.

How is Heart doing?

Heart can attend classes again, have his own groups again. Now he has people on his phone who post a really absurd amount of stickers and talk shit about their professors just like everyone else. He can eat ice cream when it’s chilly and do his homework outside while brown leaves fall from their branches. He takes pictures of stray cats and sends them to Li Ming – even though he knows they can’t keep a pet at their current housing – like a shared secret. Sometimes Li Ming says they could sneak it in through the back door. Maybe just to see Heart laugh, but Heart would not put it past him. Not when Li Ming gets a certain glint in his eyes.

America is colder, but not always. When he can walk with Li Ming, his hand in Li Ming’s hand, it’s different. To walk with Li Ming in daylight, to discover everything with him, is different. He watches Li Ming speak with others with increasing confidence, lips shaping words Heart learned once, but that are harder to recognize now. He doesn’t get lost with Li Ming. They walk and walk and walk, until the streetlights are on and their legs are sore, and Heart doesn’t get tired of it. Maybe he will, someday. Heart doesn’t think about that. There is so much he wants to see, and so much Li Ming wants to share. With his hand in Heart’s hand, careful so Heart can follow.

When Heart finishes all of his homework and the night is long and Li Ming is not yet back, Heart grabs his phone and dreams of endless places to see with Li Ming. He wants to travel to see the cherry blossoms in Japan, to roam through the streets of Hong Kong at night, see the color of Indonesian waters. What is Canada like during autumn? What are the lavender fields like in France? Heart dreams of the days he first left his room with Li Ming, seemingly so long ago now, and the exhilaration he can’t help but seek again and again and again.

But when he talks to Li Ming about it, there’s a straight line in his lips. He looks at the pictures Heart shows him and he agrees that it all looks beautiful, but there is no enthusiasm in him. Heart doesn’t look for a promise, for a solid plan. When he shows his phone to Li Ming and looks at him, Heart is only thinking of the following year. And the one after that. To be with him, to stay with him.

Perhaps his flaw is that he has become too comfortable. That he believes they understand each other perfectly, but forgets Li Ming can’t read his thoughts. When Heart keeps talking about traveling, when he pulls Li Ming to look when he tries to turn away, he doesn’t expect Li Ming to explode.

“I don’t know when we can leave! I don’t know, Heart!”

His mouth moves as he signs, and then he aborts another phrase, something that Heart thinks he knows, thinks he understands, from all that Li Ming has shared with him.

“I can do it for you,” Heart tells him, because he can. Eventually, Heart believes anything will be possible. “For us. You don’t have to provide for me.”

You’re not my caretaker, he thinks, but doesn’t externalize. He’s thankful he doesn’t. The fight leaving Li Ming in heavy breaths is enough, as are the hard steps that Heart feels but can’t hear as Li Ming walks away and leaves, the dinner forgotten on the stove.

Heart can’t sleep without Li Ming.

Or he can, but he doesn’t want to. His body aches, his eyes sting, but he doesn’t allow himself to sleep. He doesn’t want to fall asleep and miss Li Ming coming back. He wants to stand by the front door, but he doesn’t. He paces around their bedroom, sits on the bed and hugs his knees to his chest. He looks at the lamp on his bedside table until the glare draws shadows on his retinas.

Before Li Ming, he didn’t want much. He wanted to breathe, and to walk, and to extend his arms beyond the walls of a home that didn’t feel like a home. With Li Ming, he wants so much. Every second is precious, a moment he can’t miss. He wants to graduate fast, and start working, and feel like he can stand on his own for the first time. In a paradoxical way, he never wants the current days to end; he, sitting by Li Ming’s side in the living room, both of them immersed in their own studies, until Heart drops his head on Li Ming’s shoulder, feeling the vibration of his English practice, until the words morph into humor, until Li Ming is nudging him and poking him and he’s giggling and they’re wrestling on the floor, and every worry seems as small as a speckle of dust when compared to Li Ming’s smile.

Heart wants everything. The future, every city across the globe, every minute and every second of the present with Li Ming. He wants Li Ming. How long has he been gone, will he come back now?

Heart only realizes he’s crying when he looks up at the figure of Li Ming by the door and he can’t properly see his face or his expression, his vision blurred by dark spots and tears. He stays where he is, raises his hands before he lets them drop to his lap and then he raises them again. He wants to reach for Li Ming and wipe his own tears because this is his fault, and he’s saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” until Li Ming stops his hands and embraces him.

Li Ming isn’t crying. After a few minutes of crying all over his shirt, Heart feels embarrassed, but he still keeps his arms around Li Ming, and his head on Li Ming’s shoulder. He’s playing with the hem of Li Ming’s shirt and wondering if he’s too selfish when Li Ming pushes him back and they finally look at each other. Li Ming looks exhausted.

“Did you eat?” Heart asks, and Li Ming can only give him an unconvincing half-smile. Heart makes to stand but Li Ming grabs his wrist and pulls him back to bed.

“Tomorrow,” is his response, and Heart frowns but doesn’t fight him.

Li Ming stands and starts changing, and in the warm pool of the lamp light, Heart thinks about how different he already looks from when they first met. Li Ming had always carried himself with a firmness in his step that Heart admired. Like he knew his place in the world. Heart knows it’s not exactly like that, now that he doesn’t worship Li Ming so much. Now that they have shared so many secrets, now that they share a life. But his shoulders seem broader now. Maybe not too much, but it’s noticeable to Heart. A small touch of time in their story.

Li Ming turns back to him. He’s tired but sincere, and Heart is filled with longing. He does open his arms to Li Ming then, calls for him without words, so he can finally lie down with an armful of Li Ming and surrender. What was it like to fall asleep without Li Ming’s scent, his weight against him? Heart doesn’t want to remember.

Are they sleeping? Are they eating? Are they well?

It’s colder in America. There are still places where Heart feels a tinge of helplessness if he goes alone, because people look at him and his language like he’s not someone who belongs there. There are days he sleeps slouched over the coffee table in the living room and wakes up with a headache when Li Ming has to get him to go to bed. And having to leave for classes and leave Li Ming asleep, peaceful and warm and beautiful, is a battle Heart has to fight too often.

But Heart loves his days. He loves his friends with whom he shares notes, stories from home, and movies every Thursday after class. He loves the overly sweet hot beverages the coffee shops serve once October comes. He loves it when children walk by his group of friends and wave and stare at the way they sign. And at the end of the day, at the start and end of it all, in every plan of his future—

The first snowflake Heart ever notices melts against Li Ming’s cheek.

“Ah,” he sees Li Ming say, his mouth opening in delight. Then he turns to Heart and signs, “the first snow.”

Heart doesn’t think Li Ming should lie with his head on Heart’s lap on a public bench, but Li Ming doesn’t seem to care.

“Wet,” Heart signs, and smiles when Li Ming chuckles.

“I know, I know. We’ll go in a second.”

Li Ming looks at the slowly falling snow and then at Heart. His red beanie almost matches his flushed cheeks perfectly. Heart places a hand on Li Ming’s chest. He wants to take Li Ming ice skating at the place his friends told him to go. He wants to go on a Christmas date with him with the city’s multicolored lights twinkling overhead, illuminating the night. And when the new year comes, he wants to tell Li Ming about all the new years he wants to see with him. Anywhere he wants to be.

Li Ming waves a hand in front of his eyes and he focuses back on the boy lying on his lap. The boy at the end of his scented road.

“I’m hungry,” Li Ming signs, and Heart laughs. It’s the way he says he doesn’t want to cook tonight.

“Let’s go home,” Heart replies. Still they don’t move. Not for a few beats, while the snow falls in thin swirls around them.

Tomorrow, Heart will tell him that he loves him.

Tonight, he loves him so much he cannot say anything.

#Moonlight Chicken #HeartLiMing #GeminiFourth #Post-End

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arbitrarygreay · 5 months

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What the fuck is the Hyuuga clan structure Lots of fanfiction angry about the cursed seal (and they should be, the manga completely drops the thread about it and the fucked up structure of the clan) tend to emphasize a large council of stuffy Elders getting in the way of progress. They also like to assume that depending on who would become the heir of the clan between Hinata and Hanabi, the other sister would get sealed and become branch house. This tracks with the canon history of Hizashi and Neji getting sealed. However, this makes zero sense! If everyone except the line of former leader(s), current leader, heir, and presumably spouses, is getting sealed, then who the fuck are the other main house members? Who are the main house members marrying? How would the main house beat replacement fertility rate if they're sealing non-heir siblings? How can Elders exist that aren't in the direct line of succession? Why are there canonically other relatively young main house members, but Neji is getting sealed? Like, even if we assume that there are other lines of main house families, with only the direct succession line sealing sibling lines away, that also makes zero sense when looking at real life history. It's begging for incessant main house in-fighting and coups, as well as insanely high paranoia for those in the direct succession line. Seriously, "only the direct succession line is categorically not allowed to beat the replacement fertility rate" is a recipe for DISASTER. The timeline for the Hyuuga Affair is also wonky. Apparently, Hinata's 3rd birthday, Neji's sealing, Hiashi activating Hizashi's curse seal during Hinata's training, and the Kumo ninja kidnapping Hinata, all took place within the time span of the Kumo ninja being in town in order to sign and celebrate the signing of the Kumo-Konoha treat. To what narrative purpose is this time span so condensed, Kishimoto? (Meanwhile, while fact-checking this against the wiki, I laughed really hard at the canon pictures of the Hyuuga clan lineup, at how miniscule the lineup is. This is definitely not a clan that could run an entire village's police force, like the Uchiha did, unless Konoha was also way tinier than we thought. Then again, Kishimoto seems incapable of believing that people who should desperately want to pass on their incredible abilities would also have more than the replacement rate number of children, so.)

#naruto #hyuuga clan #hyuuga hinata #hyuuga neji #hyuuga hanabi #hyuuga hizashi #category: anime

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eilinelsghost · 5 months

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⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Once more continuing to gradually chip away at the Director's Cut asks! (And as before, still taking asks if you have any you'd like to send in—the more specific the better. 😊)

Today I am being the bravest little Frankie and making myself answer a star question. I have so many things I want to babble on and on about when I'm writing, but the moment someone asks me with free rein, I promptly forget every single one of those and can't think of anything at all to say. So uh here's hoping this makes sense!

(And apologies to all of you who sent in star questions—I promise I will eventually have answers for all of you!)

One thing that I've tried to be very intentional about throughout the series so far is how the "exes" (for lack of a better term) are portrayed. Ok no, I tried using "exes" and now I feel so desperately guilty because poor Esrid is not an ex. She is a dead. I'm so sorry, Esrid, I will never call you Balan's ex ever again.

Anyway.

Something that frustrates me in a lot of fiction (in general, not just in fanfiction) is the tendency to portray previous relationships as inferior to the one being featured in the story, as though in order for the featured one to be valid, anything before it had to be negative in comparison. Most often I've seen this done with women, though I'm sure it happens with men also.

So going into writing this series, I knew this was something I would need to be aware of with both Finrod and Balan, and I wanted to be very careful not to fall into that trope by accident. I'm not completely sure if I've achieved that goal or not, but I really hope so because I've become quite fond of both Amarië and Esrid in the process.

As part of this aim, I wanted to make both women full characters in their own rights, even while neither is around in the events of the series. Each nevertheless has a tangible presence in the narrative, both through Balan and Finrod's memories as well as through how each woman has shaped the way our main characters operate in relationship, both to each other and to the world around them.

Balan & Esrid

In Balan's case, I wanted to play a bit with the idea of it being a marriage of convenience, which could easily fall into the framework of "it wasn't about love." Balan occasionally tries to categorize it this way to himself as a coping mechanism, because he has never fully let himself mourn her loss. In Grief in All Her Guises, for example, he tells Finrod:

"In truth, I believe my wife’s death rent Estreth’s heart in many ways that never touched mine—to my lasting shame. Yet in times like these when memory is the most brutal, Estreth remains, not just in the encampment but alongside them, present and attending despite all of it. Whereas I…” Balan let out his breath in a rush of exasperation and clenched his fists to still the trembling.

He leads with this line about Estreth being rent in ways that he was not—yet throughout the entire scene that follows, his actions and relation to his wife's memory show the exact opposite: Estreth and he were both wrecked by Esrid's death, but while Estreth has acknowledged, mourned, and befriended her grief in some sense, Balan remains in denial and tries to mitigate the pain by a) closing off the memory and b) insisting to himself that he had less right to mourn, less love that could be injured. While the reality is that he loved her deeply—and he knows that, even while he tries to downplay it to ease the loss.

And in this, his pain is two-fold. First, and most obviously, it is the grief of her death, and the grief of seeing that loss through his sons' eyes as well. But secondly, it is the pain of believing his love was at least partially unrequited, which is a large part of why he often narrates it in a way that downplays his own devotion. He is very conscious of the reality that she married Geberic from love, and from a love deep enough that it was worth uprooting herself and her sister from all they knew in order to bring it to fruition. And then Balan led his people on the westward road, which brought them into the skirmish that killed her husband. “She never loved me the way she had Geberic, but the love that was there was enough," he tells Finrod, because he cannot shake the conviction that his love was never returned in kind—because he was not the one she had chosen, and because he was (at least indirectly) the cause of that loss, that he was a poor substitute offered in atonement and only accepted from need. But Esrid did love him, and loved him as fully as he loved her, which he is gradually able to see as he finally lets himself mourn her. A helpful summary for this, I think, is from Chapter 5 of Atanatárissë in Balan's closing letter to Belen:

I deemed myself broken through when thy mother was lost, and in many ways it was a true perception. But I forced her memory ever from me, afraid to touch it lest the break rend further and leave me insensate to thee and thy brother. Thus at the thought of her, I held my heart in ice, for fear of what should arise in the thawing. Yet my reticence faltered once and in that brief moment she rose beside me—a balm and not a sharp thing of shearing edges. And she has remained there ever since, steady through the tempests, my first love gone before me as I go now before those who remain, a loss abated not deeper delved.

However, the upshot of all of this is that Balan is consistently afraid of the strength of his own feelings, while also being convinced that in any relationship he will always be the one who loves more than the other, that love will never be fully reciprocated. This results both in how bold he can be re stating how things are (see the snowdrop sequence in A Heady Fragrance of Honey, the entire conversation between them in Vassal, literally all of A Shifting Mirage lol, the confession scene in In These Holy Waters, etc.), and also in how he immediately shifts into a defensive fear response whenever he suspects the not-fully-reciprocated situation with Finrod. Once again, see Vassal for a good example of this:

“I would give everything to thee, but not as a stray once smiled upon who ever after limps hopefully at thy heels; to be some brittle leaf, wind-tossed and in its delusion of flight thinking it might reach the sun."

And when Finrod hesitates in response to this, his immediate reaction is jump to defensiveness and anger:

“Yes is a simple enough word.” Balan’s face was etched with the fury of his grief. “Athon. Sá. Nai, even. But I see thee instead pondering how to explain without wounding me. No matter. It is the blow struck in silence that fells the swiftest. I take my leave.” He turned abruptly and walked back toward the village.

And again in In These Holy Waters where he faces what he sees as Finrod's refusal to choose to love him, Balan's "words lashed from him like a blade, no longer caring where he struck so long as he could wound in return."

So throughout all of this, Esrid (or his love for her, his grief for her, his loss of her) operates as a consistent character throughout Balan and Finrod's relationship as well.

Finrod & Amarië

Likewise, it was important to me that Amarië was not just some idealized Beatrice-esque character who sat over the narrative like the lady of a courtly romance. I needed to believe that she was more than an archetype, and understand why Finrod specifically cared for her, in order to understand why he was operating in the insane-making way he is so far in the series.

(Agh. I've already gotten SO long-winded here, so I'll try to keep this one shorter than Balan's section.)

To start, it was a non-negotiable for me that he did genuinely care for her. I think there's a very clear reason for his indecision and hesitance referenced in A Heady Fragrance of Honey: specifically that he is operating in a context where he's constantly pulled between varying sets of expectations and thus orients himself toward those in order to keep peace; and as the oldest son in a branch of the royal line, he is expected to marry in a way that continues the line, so he does not consider that marrying a woman might not actually be what he wants. Nevertheless, I don't think that Finrod as a person could consider marrying someone—no matter how many expectations were in place around him—if he did not genuinely love them, at least to some degree.

So what is it about them that meshed together? For me, that came down to the same thing that lies at the foundation of his love for Balan: someone who can see past the veneer and name (and love) the person who exists behind the expectations he tries to fill. In the same sequence of A Heady Fragrance of Honey, the context is set as such:

Torn between his father’s expectation of distance and Tirion’s expectation of knowledge and poise, he mimicked first the one and then the other till each was pleased with his performance. He followed his cousin’s studies, learning swordsmanship alongside Turvo’s intrigue for the art and dance of it, he studied architecture, learned the planning of cities, mastered the dialogue and form of court. Then alone in the night he would read philosophy, he would slip out on quiet days to wander through the hills and greet the fauna and new growth, he would sing beside the streams and laugh as he watched children chase and play. Then he returned to Alqualondë and donned the old facade, taking up the mantle of his father’s mediation, the calm analysis of ethics and theology, and the light banter of Olwë’s court.

With Amarië, he is operating in that middle section—as the person he is when he's away from observation and expectation, reading philosophy alone in the dead of night:

[S]he had been a student of philosophy and he was drawn immediately to the conversations they shared, discussions and theoreticals that bored his cousin when he tried to engage him. But Amarië was versed in all of these and her mind sharp and eager, finding the same intrigue and challenge in these debates that drew him ever back to the study. It was not long before they sought each other out independently[.]

She enjoys the parts of him that others find tedious, she sees the things that intrigue him and names them (and consequently names him) as good. He sees in her someone who challenges him and is not afraid to debate and push back, and for whom that is in fact an embodiment of respect and affection, someone who operates from a consistent posture of openness and truth—and this draws him to her immediately. In short, she lays the groundwork for what Balan later builds. Having had that foundation, Finrod is able to see it for what it is when he realizes his feelings for Balan are far beyond friendship: he has the comfort, centerdness, and mutual respect he felt in Amarië's company, but now with all the certainty of affection he was lacking in Valinor.

But this also undergirds one of his primary fears re how he interacts with Balan. As he sees it, all that his love for Amarië gave in return was to leave her wounded and abandoned, which is one of his deepest regrets. He is terrified that he will do the same to Balan, that if he allows himself to love him, he will end up hurting him by default. That, similarly to Amarië, any love they have will end in an irrevocable parting that leaves both of them broken in its wake.

There's a whole lot more I could go on about re Finrod and all of this, but the length of this thing is getting out of control, so I think we'll call it a wrap here 😂

Thanks so much for the ask!

#asks and answers #director's cut #finrod #bëor #Amarië #my fic #atandil

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