#appa writes fic

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

Flickering Light

You're probably not following me for his, but here it is anyway. My very first buddie fic. More to come? Who knows. All I know I'm obsessed with these boys. I might need to write something happy to balance this one.

Buck woke up feeling disoriented. Even before he opened his eyes he knew something was wrong. The morning light was coming from the wrong direction. The bed was too soft and his pillow felt strange. He reached for Eddie, seeking the reassurance of his husband’s body against himself, but all his hand found was emptiness and the edge of the bed. His eyes flew open.

The ceiling was yellow. Who the hell decided to do that? Slowly, Buck lifted his head to look around. The room was small but cozy. Heavy curtains and throw blankets softened the look of modern furniture. Buck spotted the chest of drawers they’d bought from an antique auction after he’d dragged Eddie there just to browse. It had been a pain to fit it into the car. Crowding the top were a sea of photo frames and small knick-knacks that sparked flashes of memories in his befuddled mind. They were like fireflies, bright and buzzing close one second, dim and far away the next.

This had to be his room. Despite the foreign shape and questionable paint choices, it didn’t feel unfamiliar. The room felt like home. Which was odd and unsettling since Buck had no memory of ever being there before. Heart skipping, he gripped the edge of the duvet for comfort.

The door opened behind a narrow partition and someone walked in. Buck pushed himself up as quickly as his time-worn joints let him.

“Eddie?” he asked, voice hoarse and full of hope.

Read the rest on Ao3

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

Men of Wayward Winds

In January 2020 I wrote a short fic for a fanfic project I had with a couple of lovely fandom writers. The fic was called Wind and I fell in love with the premise. I couldn't stop thinking about it. In the fall of 2023 I attended the Fan Author Workshop (for the second time, woooo!) and decided to rewrite and expand the fic from the original 1000 words it was restricted to. I got some really helpful feedback (thank you to everyone who were in the workshop with me!!) but due to life I didn't touch the fic again, until now.

So, most of this fic is written a year ago, but I've polished it off and added some bits. I am so happy to finally set it free. This is one of my favorite AUs I've ever written! I hope y'all enjoy it even half as much as I do.

Read Men of Wayward Winds on Ao3

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

It hurts to touch him. 

His skin sizzles like butter on a hot pan and Rhett gasps, not from the pain, although that too is sudden and intense, but from the soft smoothness of the angel’s skin. Rhett snatches his hand away, watching in horror as a scarlet afterimage of his fingers rises onto the milky white skin of Link’s arm.

An apology. Hushed one, with pleading eyes and the thud-thud-thudding of Rhett’s heart that Link can hear as clearly as his words. Link shakes his head, the golden leaves of his laurels making a faint tinkling sound that always follows him around. He steps closer, his gaze determined, reaching for the demon in front of him. 

Rhett takes a step back, now pleading with his words. He doesn’t want to hurt Link. Never wants to cause him pain. Never wants to see those sweet eyes flash with agony. Link huffs, his wings fluttering in annoyance. He can decide for himself. He’s old enough, nearly a millenia old, no longer a babe in the heavens. He’s seen the earth. He’s seen the humans. He’s seen the need and where it leads. To entangled bodies and lush moans and ecstasy so potent it has the ability to create life.

Rhett’s blood surges in his veins, rushing into his head, making him dizzy; rushing elsewhere and making him feel light and heavy all at the same time. He watches Link talk about the debauchery of the souls below them. Watches Link’s plump lips move. Rhett wants to bite them. Gnaw and chew and taste. Wants to nibble and suck and lick until he’s breathless and Link is whimpering in his arms.

His arms. Rhett pauses. Closes his eyes, the only way to stop himself from staring at the creature in front of him. Unlike Link’s, Rhett’s arms are rough—gnarled and wrinkled, covered in old scars and fresh scabbed-over wounds. His arms are molten. They’re not a place for a being as pure as Link. The devil’s arms are meant for hurting, not loving.

Rhett’s eyes fly open. His face is on fire. He’d scream, but his breath has been stolen by the icy-blue eyes peering at him. So close. Too close. Link’s hands cradle Rhett’s face, skin to skin, palm to cheek. They burn together. Rhett can smell it. A hint of sulfuric ash mixed with the scent of summer rain turning into a thunderstorm. 

Rhett tries to back away, tries to save Link from himself, from this twisted thing they have been dancing around for centuries. But he can’t. He can’t, because Link’s lips are closing in and Rhett can do nothing else but surrender to their heat. Just once, he thinks. One time and then no more. A taste. It’s all he needs. All he deserves.

A mosaic of groans and whines. Pain and pleasure. Good and evil entwining, burning, destroying, creating, thriving. Rhett can’t breathe. He only knows need and love and desire. He devours Link’s mouth, tasting the divine within him. The air crackles between them, angry and awed. The wind whips around them, horrified and delighted. 

A gap forms between their aching lips. Link pants, begs for more, begs for more skin, more kisses, more debauchery. The devil has never before blushed. Everything in Rhett spins and tilts and twirls. He aches for Link. Aches for something that can’t happen. 

“We can’t. It hurts to touch you,” he finally whispers, with a sob so heart-wrenching the world breaks below them.

Link looks at him and smiles with a sad tilt of his lips.

“But it hurts more not to.”

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

OMG, it's @unhinged-nymph's birthday!!!

Just wanted to say that you are one of the funniest, cleverest, smartest people I know. I feel like we exist in the same frequency. It's been pleasure getting to know you and I can't wait to buddy read ALL THE BOOKS with you.

(Oh, also I wrote you this fic. Enjoy!)

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

The lake is on fire. It glows with colors that shift from deep orange to golden. The water is near calm, shifting in small waves that only enhance the glint and glitter of the reflected sunset.

Rhett steps onto the porch. His eyes struggle to adjust to the rage of lights as he comes out of the darkness of their cabin. Half-blinded he thrusts his arm out, offering the cold bottle of water to Link who he knows is sitting on his usual seat. Familiar fingers wrap around his and accept the drink. Topo Chico, of course.

"It's pretty tonight," Link says. He says it every night and every night Rhett sits next to him, grunting as his old joints creak, and agrees.

Link's drink snaps open and fizzes. Rhett gets back his vision just in time to watch Link's Adam's apple to bob as he swallow deep. Warmth diffuses Rhett's core. He smiles.

"Beautiful." Rhett's voice is low, teasing. Link huffs in mock-annoyance. He slaps Rhett's knee.

"Shut it," he orders half-heartedly, a small smile giving him away. Rhett rests his hand on top of Link's.

"Not 'til the day I die," he says, resolute. Link harumphs. Their fingers tangle together. The sun keeps setting. The old cabin creaks as the temperature drops and the wood settles for a cold night. But they won't be cold. Not when they have each other.

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

Sacrifice

Chapter 3 is posted

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

Warmth

After this post I’ve been going through my wips and I decided to let one go as it is.

I started writing this in 2019 and it's been sitting in my WIPs since. I always planned on continuing it. I had a plot plan and everything, but time went on and other fics took my interest away from it. As my obsession with rhink has turned to more of a fond memory I've come to accept the fact I'll probably never continue this. But I still love the world I created and I hope that someone might enjoy even this small glimpse into a fantasy world where a sassy concubine Link was going to absolutely steal the betrothed crown prince Rhett's heart, threatening to drive two nations into the brink of war.

Read Warmth on Ao3

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

Gimme Borrowed (Duhuh) 😇😘

(Re: this post) Inky, my beloved ❤️

I started this one in 2021. I have barely any memory of it... I don't have much to say about it. There isn't much and I haven't gotten to the smutty bit. It's also very much a rough draft. Emphasis on the rough. But since I love you, here's a bit.

(Reader-insert in 2nd person below cut, sfw-ish:)

You’d known for some time that one of your boyfriend’s fantasies was watching his best friend fuck you. It didn’t take much to talk you into making that fantasy into reality. To add an element of surprise you’d requested that Rhett didn’t tell you in advance when the agreed-upon tryst would be happening.

It was one of your house parties. Rhett loved to entertain and you loved to watch him in his element. It had been a fun night of barbeque, lounging at the pool and laughing with friends.

The party was winding down and you were sitting on the couch with Rhett, his arm slung around your shoulders. On your other side sat Link. He’d been close to you for the whole night, entertaining you and the other party-goers with silly bits and gentle ribbing of his best friend. You were wondering if tonight might be the night and you’d been attempting to catch him looking at you differently, but hadn’t noticed anything new. 

Rhett got up to say goodbye to the last guests and as he disappeared into the hallway a hand settled on your thigh. 

“Have you had fun tonight then?” Link asked, his voice a slow drawl. You try to ignore the palm pressing lightly against your leg and nod.

“Mhm. It’s been great.”

“Tired?” he asked, his hand moving up and down your leg. You swallowed.

“I’m feeling very alert suddenly,” you joked and got a wonderful smile as a prize for your attempt. You heard the front door closing and a moment later, Rhett appeared at the entrance of the living room. He stopped there, leaning against the doorway. Link turned to look at him and somehow you knew they were having one of those silent conversations of theirs.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Rhett asked and before you could say anything, Link’s fingers had moved up your thigh and slipped between your legs. Just a soft touch, a promise or maybe a question, one you were eager to explore. Rhett’s eyes turned dark and you could clearly see him drawing in a stuttered breath.

“Feeling good,” you said, your voice a bit more shaky than you’d hoped. “You?”

Rhett licked his lips and walked over to the armchair across from you. 

“I’m great,” he said as he sat down.