#to be clear this fic was written to by me for me first and foremost but i am putting a lot of work into it

[froggiewrites]

i love your writing so much and im so glad you opened requests!! :) i would love if you wrote a fic about zoro being dominant (maybe some spanking/spitting?) him having a dirty mouth, and perhaps some edging? i have another idea that i'll send in a diff message too! even if you dont choose this one i look forward to reading the others <3

I've never written anything with a lot of dirty talk or dominance before, but I tried my best, and I hope I did it justice! 😊

Playing Rough

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You're being terribly stubborn, insisting on fighting battles you can't handle. Zoro decides to put you in your place. Warnings: Smut, Dom Zoro, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Slight Edging, Begging Word Count: 2.4k

It was a stupid argument, one that shouldn’t have happened.

The battle you had been through was rough, sure, but you didn’t take any damage that wouldn’t heal. Zoro had insisted you not fight on your own, not take on any challenge you couldn’t handle, and you had insisted that you were more than capable of handling it. And you were. You came home, didn’t you? And the bruises might be nasty and the stitches weren’t terribly fun either, but you were in one piece. You had managed to hobble your way back to the ship on your own, and you didn’t even collapse before making it into Zoro’s arms.

You were too out of it to comprehend the words he said, though you understood the panic and fear in his tone well enough. And you certainly understood the words he spoke when you first woke up.

“Are you stupid?”

“Excuse me?”

Before you could truly get angry, his arms were around you, crushing you against his chest. You can feel a slight tremor as he takes a deep breath, nose buried in your hair, taking in your scent, your warmth, any evidence that you are here with him and alive. He takes a shuddering inhale, the closest thing to weakness you’ve ever heard from him, before his voice comes back again, rough and absolutely furious. “You almost died.”

“I didn’t almost die.” You try to say it sweetly, soothingly, but his fingers tighten in a way that is less than kind.

“You almost died. You went even though you knew you shouldn’t, and you almost died. I almost lost you.” His voice isn’t shaking, not quite, but you swear you feel the tremor anyway. Zoro is not a man easily rattled, yet somehow you have shaken him to his very foundation.

“You could never lose me, Zoro. I knew what I was doing, I promise.”

“You knew the risk you were taking?”

“Yes. But I had to do it.” You bring a hand up to run through his hair. “I knew I would come back. I knew what I was doing, and I knew I was strong enough. I promise.”

You’re suddenly devoid of his warmth as he pulls away, glaring at you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Chopper said if you got back even a few minutes later…” He trails off, clenching his teeth.

“But I didn’t,” you insist. “Everything turned out fine, Zoro.”

“Do you think that’s all that matters?”

“Kind of!”

He huffs. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He stalks out of the room, slamming the door as he leaves. You throw yourself back onto the bed, wincing as you realize your ribs are very much broken. Every inch of you is bruised, and it hurts to breathe. But it was worth it. He would understand that eventually. Not every fight has a pretty ending, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t finish them.

He did not understand, as it turns out.

He still helped you as you healed, your dear protector always carrying you so gently, so purposefully. But you could feel the distance, the tension. Neither of you acknowledged it, focusing on your health first and foremost, but it haunted every moment you two were together. Touches were fleeting, conversation was sparse. But finally, finally, today you have been officially given a clean bill of health by Chopper.

“You’re cleared for everyday activity, but I still want you to stay out of fights for a while. And don’t do anything that reckless again!” Chopper’s words are law when it comes to your health, so you’ll do your best, but you can’t help but think of how no one else on this ship would follow such instructions.

“I’ll try.” No promises you can’t keep, and Chopper purses his lips a little when he realizes, but after a moment he simply nods. He’s used to patients even more stubborn than you, of course.

As you leave the office, ready to get back to your regular life, you’re instantly met by Zoro’s broad chest as he pulls you into him.

“You’re fine now?” There’s a tension to his voice you don’t fully understand.

“I–yeah? I guess?”

“Good.” He throws you over his shoulder, not exactly gently, now that he knows being rough with you won’t open your stitches.

“What are you doing?” You try to pull yourself up to see where he’s taking you, but he gives you a quick swat on the ass that makes you squeak as you fall limp again.

“You’ll see.” He jogs down a hallway you only recognize right before you reach your destination: his room. When the door slams shut behind you, enclosing you in darkness, it almost sounds like a death knell.

He throws you onto the bed carelessly, pushing a hand onto your stomach to keep you from bouncing. His other hand makes quick work of your pants as you squirm, not out of fear but out of pure confusion.

“Zoro? What’s going on?”

“We have a conversation to finish.” His voice is flat. You don’t need to ask him which conversation. You know damn well which one. He’s finally rid you of your pants, throwing them carelessly to the floor, and he begins to work on the buttons of your shirt.

“Is that what this is going to be? A conversation?”

He hums. “No, I guess not.” His callused hands are rough against your bare skin as he unhooks your bra and grabs your breasts. “You aren’t going to be doing much talking, today. It’s finally time for you to listen.” He kneads your chest for a moment, pinching harshly, before he moves to slide off your panties.

“Listen?” Your voice is a little strained as you feel his fingers slide against your bare skin for the first time in weeks.

“Yeah, listen. You weren’t willing before, so I have to try something else.” He flips you over before pulling you onto his lap, ass in the air. “Make you remember our roles here.”

“Our roles?”

“Yeah. I’m the protector of the ship, of our crew. That’s my job.”

“Oh? And what’s mine?”

“In general? To survive. Right now? To take what I give you.”

“And what are you giving me?”

“Do you think you’re in a position to interrogate me right now?” His hand grabs one of your ass cheeks, an attempt to remind you exactly who’s in charge. And you know, of course, who’s in charge here. But that doesn’t mean you can’t push him.

“You’ve been answering, haven’t you?” You can’t keep the mischief out of your voice.

He chuckles in spite of himself. “Yeah, I have. I’m being too nice, aren’t I?” His voice gets a little deeper, an intensity creeping in. “I’ll give you one more, as a treat. I’m giving you exactly what you’ve earned, for acting so fucking recklessly. And then, if you’re good? I’ll give you my cock. I’m sure you want it, hm? All cooped up in the infirmary for weeks, thinking about it, knowing you can’t have it. I bet it’s been driving you insane.”

With that, you feel the sharp sting of his hand as he brings it down. It makes you cry out as it connects with your soft flesh, but you know he isn’t using even half of his strength, holding back, somehow taking care of you even now. You feel him harden when he does it, though you can’t tell if it’s from the sound you make or from the action itself. Maybe both. His hand gently caresses the growing handprint, a moment of tenderness, before he raises his hand again and you tense.

“Just relax, sweetheart. It can’t be any worse than what you put us through.” Another smack, this one on the other cheek, and another, and another, alternating each time. You can’t help the small squeaks and whines you let out, and Zoro can’t hide the effect they have on him, breathing growing heavier and smacks becoming more intense as you both lose yourselves.

“That’s it. One more. You can take one more.”

“Ah!”

“That’s right. Another. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You’re practically dripping.” You clench your thighs together, trying to hide the fact that he’s right, about this, about the fight, about everything here. When you try, he tuts, bringing his hand down yet again, making you jolt. “Don’t go hiding yourself from me, pretty thing. You’re mine, every inch of you. You can’t hide a thing from me. Can you say it for me, sweet thing? Admit that you’re mine?”

“I’m yours, Zoro!”

“And that I was right?”

“You were—ah!” His hand comes down again, but you force your way through. “You were right, Zoro!”

“There we go.” His hands finally stop, coming to rest on your red and stinging ass. “Was that so hard to admit?”

You keep silent, your stubbornness still carrying you through.

He laughs at you. “You know, I could add a bit to your punishment for not answering. But,” his fingers find your entrance, wet and waiting, “I think you’d probably like that, huh?”

You hum, pushing your face into the bed, trying to hide your red face and ears. He lifts you up, pulling you up into a sitting position, holding your chin and forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Hiding again? You really liked your punishment, didn’t you? As much as I’d love to continue, that’s not all I had in store. So eyes on me.”

He quickly strips off his shirt before easily lifting you with one arm so he can slide off his pants. As he does, you can see a wet spot where you were resting. It’s a little mortifying, realizing how easily he can turn you to putty in his hands, literally dripping wet for him. Your embarrassment quickly subsides when he frees his cock, red and twitching, and you realize you hold just as much sway over him as he does over you. He lines himself up with your entrance, ready to give you exactly what you want.

As he slowly slides you down on his cock, you let out a moan, and he groans in response. His eyes are locked onto where your bodies meet, taking in the sight of you stretching around him. “Fuck, you take me so perfectly. Like you were made for me.”

Once he’s fully sheathed in you, you both take a moment to breathe in, enjoying the feeling of this first sweet stretch. The second you breathe out, he begins to bounce you roughly, making you squeak. “Oh, you thought I was going to go easy on you now?” He laughs, continuing his fast pace, fingertips digging into your hips. “Fuck, you feel so good, pretty thing. Bouncing on my cock just like that.”

One hand leaves your hips, moving up your body, finding its place at your chest. He pinches your nipples, making you squeal, before he leans forward, breathing heavily in your ear. “God, when you squeeze around me like that…” he squeezes your chest again, moaning. “You kill me, sweetheart.”

His hips continue to snap harshly into yours, pounding relentlessly as the sounds of slapping skin fill the room. His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and leaving a mark that clearly defines you as his. You can feel the heat rising as your orgasm builds, your sounds growing more wanton and desperate as Zoro begins to pound into you even faster, and faster.

And then it stops.

“Wha–”

You can feel the rumble of his chest against your back as he laughs. “Oh, did you think I was going to just give it to you?”

“I–But–I was good,” you say petulantly. Your voice is still a half whine as you try to ground yourself, the tension in your body slowly unraveling and leaving nothing but a cold dissatisfaction.

“Hm.” He presses his cheek to your shoulder, humming as though he’s thinking. “Well. Maybe if you beg you can cum on my cock. If you’re real sweet about it.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly the frantic cry leaves your mouth. “Please, please, please Zoro can I cum? Please?”

“Hm. I think you can do better.”

“Please, can I cum on your cock, Zoro! Please, I need you, please!”

“Alright. Since you asked so nicely.”

His fingers find your clit, rubbing circles around it. He enters you again, pace slower this time, but strokes deep and deliberate. You can feel every inch of him as he pulls in and out, feel the heat of his breath on your ear, hear his quiet moans as you clench around him. He will give you your release, but not as quickly as you want it. You’ll get it on his terms.

Even still, you reach your precipice quickly, and he whispers huskily in your ear. “Are you ready?”

You’re beyond all practical thought at this point, but you still manage two simple words. “Yes! Please.”

“Alright then, pretty thing. Cum for me.” With one final thrust, one final movement of his fingers, you do, gushing around him as the world shatters. You’re panting, desperate for breath, but you can’t seem to make your lungs listen to you over the symphony of pleasure you’re drowning in. Right as you manage to regain some control of yourself, you can feel Zoro go tense beneath you before you feel him spill inside of you, filling you to the brim as he quietly moans out your name. 

You both sit together a moment, you limp in Zoro’s arms as he falls back onto the bed, before he speaks up.

“Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again. Really.” His arms wrap around you a little tighter. “I…I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.”

“I won’t do it again, Zoro, I promise.” Your voice is weak, but you look up to see a sincere smile creep onto his face and you know he heard you. “...Are there other things that might get me punished like this? Less deadly things?”

He laughs. “Oh, there are plenty. And I’m sure you’ll do them all.” His hand runs through your hair affectionately. “But I’ll find more excuses to spank you later. I think you need some rest.”

With that, you two simply lay together, the only sound in the room your quiet breaths and the sound of Zoro’s heartbeat, growing slower and slower as you both drift off.

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (06)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, kissing (omg k1ss1ng omg WHO IS IT ??? 😦), tbh this is the only warning i wanted u guys to read cuz 6 chapters in and we finally get sum action i feel like that's a win lmaooooo, jimin being Real as fook, unbeta'd cuz uhm i'm a godless menace who should be conked on the head, once again we are severely lacking jk in his own fic lol i'm owning up to this 🤗 BUT! this is probably the last chapter where jk feels like a side character lol apologies my dudes

rating: PG-13

word count: 8.1k (honestly i wrote obs6 just so i could get to obs7 lmao that's why it's a lil bit shorter)

note: my apologies if this sucks. you are legally allowed to stone me if you hate it. but i hope you don't hate it. but if you do hate it don't tell me just stone me lol 🤐 why am i so unhinged with this update

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

Exile - Taylor Swift (ft. Bon Iver)

The picture is fucking terrible.

“Jimin, what the fuck,” you grumble, staring at the huge framed photo on the wall, taken on the day of the opening party. You, Taehyung and Jimin are gathered on the floor of the dance studio, with boxes of takeout neatly sitting between the three of you. “I look like ass.”

Jimin barely glances at the wall, just continues to stuff his face with the dumplings that you ordered. “You look fine,” he says absentmindedly, mouth full, continuing to munch on the food despite your little dilemma.

“Bitch, I have my eyes closed.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I look like I’m in the middle of a sneeze.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, squinting at your photographed self again. The more you look at it, the more irritated you become.

Realistically, you know nobody would pay enough attention to notice the immortalized visual of your fluttering eyes, and you yourself wouldn’t care about it that much. Maybe you would even laugh in good spirits and poke fun at yourself as you often do. Make a meme of it for the group chat.

“What’s the big deal?” Jimin asks.

You shrug petulantly. “I told you. I look like ass.”

Yeah, true, but it’s also more than that.

It’s the fact that the person standing next to you looks so good that you must voice your grievances. It’s the fact that he looks so much more than just good. 

The guys stop eating to look at you. You wonder just how much of what you’re feeling is written all over your face. Regardless, they don’t comment on it. 

One of them clears his throat, shaking the whole thing off.

“Did you tell Yoongi anything yet?” Jimin asks.

You poke at a lone dumpling with your chopsticks, popping the ‘p’ when you say, “Nope.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Jimin scolds you. “It’s been three weeks. He doesn’t want to push you for an answer but the man has got to be suffering.”

You flick a piece of spring onion garnish at him. It lands on his hair, a single bit of green sitting among golden locks. “I don’t know what to tell him!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jimin shakes the onion piece from his head and chucks it back at you. “Obviously you say yes!”

You exhale through your nose, then take a bite of your dumpling. You nibble on the fried dough, stretching out the silence, delaying your response.

It hasn’t even started, and it might not even start. But you’re already thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Yoong is your friend, first and foremost. He’s a good friend, and you would be crushed if you lose that relationship. 

What if he hurts you, or you hurt him?

Sometimes, people are meant to hurt each other even if they don’t mean to.

Yoongi hasn’t seen your pieces in all of their jagged glory, how they’re only meant to reflect the light but never be healed by it. He’s still blissfully unaware of the ugly thoughts that have a home inside your head, and you’re afraid if you let him in, he’d realize it’s a place he doesn’t want to be. It’s hard to love a broken thing. You wouldn’t want to love you either.

Maybe this is the real reason that’s been holding you back all this time. Maybe it isn’t Jungkook - though he certainly isn’t absolved - but it’s you, and how you just don’t know if you’re someone who deserves to love and be loved. You’ve felt inadequate more times than you can count. You’ve been left before. Who’s to say it isn’t going to happen again?

You’re well aware that this is a bad way to look at things, but can anyone really blame you? You still have a heart, and despite how fragmented it is, you still want to protect it.

“I know that look,” Taehyung says, parting your fog and pulling you back to him. “You’re overthinking again.”

You roll your eyes. He knows you so well, but does he have to call you out every time?

“I’m not overthinking. I’m regular thinking.”

“Right. And to normal people, that’s overthinking.”

“It’s just…” you wonder out loud, gaze on the floor. “What if I go all in, and Yoongi sees me for who I am and thinks that I’m just an utterly sad person who can’t be loved? That I’m too much work when he’s got literally thousands of people throwing themselves at him left and right?”

Taehyung stares at the side of your face as he bites the inside of his cheek. His tongue soothes the spot, his jaw clenching once. “He’s not going to think that.”

“You don’t know that,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging down.

“You’re not unlovable just because one person didn’t love you right. So stop it with that bullshit, because I love you,” he says, voice serious. Even Jimin stays silent as he listens to his friend, his eyes flickering between you and Taehyung. “And Jimin loves you. Hobi loves you.”

You merely blink, because you hate it when he’s right. In all fairness, you understand. This is the same thing you would tell him if the situation were reversed.

You deflect anyway. That’s what you do best.

“You don’t count,” you tell him with an unserious scoff, your tone starkly contrasting his. “You’re my family.”

You taste something bitter as soon as the words leave your mouth. You should know better than anyone, that just because someone’s your family, doesn’t mean they have to love you.

Taehyung reenacts the blinking guy meme before chuckling, holding a hand over his chest like you’ve just wounded him. “Ouch.”

“You two are getting nowhere,” Jimin interjects. “Just call Yoongi.”

“And say what?” you ask.

“I told you. Say yes. God, you’re so dense sometimes.”

You reach over to jab a finger into his side, making him hiss and shuffle away from you.

“That wasn’t nice,” you grumble.

“Well, somebody’s gotta say it.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised for a few seconds before he lowers them and grows more stern. “Come on, Y/N. You know you don’t want to say no, or else you would’ve turned him down already. You said you wanted to start dating again. Yoongi is practically on his knees offering himself to you. What are you waiting for?”

There’s a voice in the back of your head - tiny, barely audible - that whispers, Who are you waiting for?

“Fuck it, I’ll say it,” Jimin continues. “It sucks balls that Jungkook hurt you, but you can’t let that affect you for the rest of your life. Not everyone is going to hurt you. You’re not even giving Yoongi a chance just because someone else did you dirty. If you keep always thinking about the worst possible outcome and banking on it to happen, then you’re never going to get anywhere. I love you, dude, but y’know.”

You stare at Jimin with your mouth slightly open, stunned into silence. When you glance at Taehyung, he’s surprised too, though probably not as much as you.

After a couple of minutes, you say, “Wow.”

“Tough love. I have my moments.” Jimin shrugs casually, like he didn’t just drop a truth bomb on your head. “But also…” He picks his phone up and types something in. Your phone instantly buzzes with a notification.

“Open the link I just sent you,” he says.

“You are literally sitting across from me.”

“Just open it! I made you a playlist.”

“Aw, Jimin, that’s so cute,” you coo softly, reaching over to pinch his cheek before he swats your hand away. You unlock your phone to see what Jimin made you, because that is some friendship hall of fame stuff right there. However, when the link redirects you to your music app, your smile immediately drops.

Aaand he’s back.

You stare at the screen for a good ten seconds to try and find your bearings, flabbergasted at something that is quite honestly very on-brand for Jimin if you think about it. “You made me a playlist called Dick Appointment with an eggplant emoji and the tongue out emoji and it’s mostly just Yoongi’s songs. Even the playlist cover is from his Valentino shoot.”

“So you can get it on while Agust D plays in the background!” Jimin grins, and you could just smack it right off his face.

“Park Jimin, who raised you? You are vile.”

“Validate me,” he demands. Oh, you would smack him. You really would. “I spent hours making that playlist.”

“It’s literally just Yoongi’s songs.”

“Yeah, but I had to curate an experience. I can’t just dump every song into a playlist and call it a day. I gotta make sure they fit the vibe.”

“I literally just heard the most profound shit from you not even two minutes ago.” Then, you turn to Taehyung with an exasperated look on your face. “Why would you let him do this?”

He just waves a dismissive hand in the air, like Jimin isn’t even there. “I’m not responsible for the stupid shit he does.”

Jimin crosses his arms in front of his chest, both eyebrows raised dramatically as he gapes at you. “You both suck. From now on, you can make your own sexytime playlists.”

“Nobody even asked you to do that!” you cry.

“Yeah! Which makes me an even more considerate friend,” he says. “Ugh. Whatever. Go call Yoongi.”

“You want me to do it now?”

“Yes. Because I know you’ll wuss out when you’re alone. You can stay and put him on speakers for us to hear or you can go out into the hallway. Come on, chop chop.”

“No, I have to text him first,” you protest. “What if he’s busy?”

Jimin narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, but allows you this after a moment. “Fine.”

You take out your phone from your bag that’s lying carelessly on the floor to draft a quick message to Yoongi. 

[12:59] You: got a minute?

The three of you go back to the food, abandoning the previous topic of conversation in favor of something lighter and meaningless or else you would go crazy waiting for Yoongi’s reply. After you’re finished, you and Taehyung are in the middle of putting away all the empty containers and soda cans when your phone buzzes again. 

You go to grab it to look at the notification, hands already starting to sweat.

[13:17] Yoongi: for you? always :)

You turn back to the guys to find them already looking at you. Jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively while Taehyung just stares at you.

“Time to get your whore on,” Jimin says in an exaggeratedly sultry voice.

You turn to Taehyung for help. ��He’s bullying me.”

“Ignore him,” your best friend tells you gently. “Go call Yoongi.”

When you take your phone out into the hallway, you make sure to go to the far end of it, near the main entrance so the two dorks can’t eavesdrop. You’ll tell them everything once you come back anyway, but you don’t want them within earshot while you’re in the middle of it.

Yoongi picks up your call on the third ring. In the background, your ear picks up on some chatter.

“Hey, princess,” he greets you. Then he holds the phone away from his ear to tell someone that he’d be back in a bit.

“Hey,” you say. “Where are you?”

“Just at a fitting. I have an ad campaign to film next week,” he answers. “Did you call just to get my whereabouts?”

“No, I… If you’re busy, we can talk later.”

“We’re still in the middle of lunch break anyway. What did you want to talk about?”

You briefly regret not taking a minute to psych yourself up before. You suck in a deep breath, which eases your nerves for just a second, long enough for you to say, “Yes.”

You’re met with brief silence from the other end of the line, which only makes your palms more clammy than they already are.

“Yes?” he echoes confusedly. “Yes what?”

“Yes,” you say again. “To…”

The silence commences once more, and lasts longer than you think you can handle. Then, you hear him stop in the middle of a breath.

“Oh.” A subsequent chuckle in response to the lightbulb that must’ve been switched on. “To that?”

“...Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

It feels like you two have invented a secret language that nobody else could understand. A single syllable, bouncing off the metaphorical walls of your conversation. Two idiots sharing the same brain cell.

“Yes?” he continues to prod, but at this point, you know he’s just teasing you.

“Yes! God, stop making me say it again. We sound so stupid.”

He graces you with a hearty laugh that makes you fight back a sheepish smile, even though there isn’t a single soul in sight to witness it. Yoongi makes you so fucking shy for some reason. Your nerves dissolve momentarily as you lean against the wall, your index finger running along a crack in the paint.

“Hmm, I wish you would’ve told me this in person,” he says, his voice soft.

“I can’t handle you in person. You’d tease me so much.”

“Because you’re adorable when you’re flustered, that’s why.” He waits a second before adding, “You’re blushing right now, aren’t you?”

“You’re being overly confident, Min.”

“Maybe,” he responds easily. “But am I right, though?”

“Shut up.”

When Yoongi said he would cook for you, you almost gasped.

“You can cook?” you had asked. It wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation or anything, but you suppose you’d never given much thought to the hidden sides of him. 

“Y/N,” he laughed then. “I’m a great cook. I could probably make a pretty decent career out of being a chef.”

“I didn’t know that,” you told him sheepishly.

“There’s a lot of things you still need to know about me.” It sounded like a promise. Like I’m willing to show you me. Like I’m willing to take the first step if you’d be in this with me too. “Does that sound like a good idea? You, me, dinner at your place?”

“My place?”

“Yeah, so you’ll be more comfortable. I’ll come over.”

This one simple gesture shouldn’t affect you that much, but it does. You appreciate that he’s considerate even when it comes to the littlest things. You swell with gratitude for the thought he puts into this, into putting your comfort first. It made you feel a bit better about yourself, calmed your stormy sea of thoughts enough to rationally accept the fact that he genuinely cares.

Regardless, it doesn’t stop you from spending most of the day obsessively cleaning your apartment. Even - and especially - your bedroom, although you’re sure that is not where the night will end. Every surface is spotless, not a single speck of dust to be found. It’s like the goddamn Pope is coming over for a house inspection. 

You haven’t had a first date in… fuck, how long has it been now? Nine years? It’s almost been a fucking decade already? You honestly can’t tell if that’s embarrassing or not.

But you remember the last time.

College, freshman year, with Jungkook. His yellow piece of sticky note that he slipped inside your favorite book. His adorably flustered expression when he timidly stood in front of you in the campus library. The way he was trying so hard to be confident and charming throughout your first dinner together. How he ran back to you after saying goodnight.

No.

You shut your eyes and shake your head, warding off any Jungkook-related thoughts before they could send you spiraling. You can’t reminisce about your ex while waiting for someone else to show. Yoongi deserves better, and that’s what you’re trying to be.

You’re not exactly sure how nice you should dress tonight. Yoongi told you that you could be clad in sweats for all he cares. If the dinner didn’t hold any connotation other than platonic, maybe you would’ve really donned your loungewear like you were merely having Taehyung and Jimin over for pizza.

You’d completely forgotten all the things people worry about in the early stages of dating, when you want to impress the other person but don’t want them to think that you’re trying too hard. 

Calm down. It’s just Yoongi. He’s seen you ugly crying with mascara running down your face, for fuck’s sake.

In the end, you opt for a sweater and a comfortable skirt. Casual. 

Yoongi rings your doorbell about ten minutes later than when he said he’d be there, holding a bag full of groceries. The visual alone makes you bite back a giggle and subsequently fail. You believe this is what people would call husband material.

You take his coat and guide him into your home. “Welcome to my humble abode,” you say shyly, gesturing around as you lead him into the kitchen to show him where everything is. Why are you acting like this? This isn’t you. If Taehyung or Jimin could see you right now, they would probably laugh. Hoseok would straight up be rolling on the floor.

You barely breathe as you watch Yoongi take in his surroundings. It’s intimidating, even though you know it’s just Yoongi. 

“I actually don’t know what I expected, but I like it. It’s very you,” he comments, smiling.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that it’s cute,” he says, throwing you a wink as he leans against your kitchen counter.

You avert your gaze immediately. “Oh… Thanks,” you reply, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “So, uhm, what are you making? How can I help?”

“Just sit down. I got this.”

“Yoongi,” you say his name in protest. “I want to h-”

“I’m trying to romance you here. Let me do that,” Yoongi says, his smile turning lopsided as he starts emptying the contents of his grocery bags. Even though his tone is light, the gentle reminder of tonight being a date shuts you right up.

You take a seat at your dining table, though you can’t really sit still. As Yoongi starts working, you absentmindedly talk to each other about your day, about his campaign, about Seokjin’s album. At one point, you get up to creep over to his side when the smell of whatever he’s making becomes more prominent. You try to peek at the pot, curious, but he just shoos you away by bumping his hip against yours.

When you give him a small pout, you pretend not to notice the way his eyes dart to your mouth. You retract yourself from his personal space, choosing a spot on the other side of your kitchen island, staring at his back as he works.

You watch him expertly navigate your kitchen like he’s been here before. When he’s finished, he makes you sit down, not even letting you help bring the food to the table.

“What is it?” you ask once he’s settled in his seat, everything plated in front of you.

“Kimchi jjigae,” he says, a proud look on his face. “My mom’s recipe.”

It’s endearing, and it makes you smile.

For the most part, Yoongi lets you eat in peace, though there’s still a couple of flirtatious comments here and there. Every time it comes, you bite down on your bottom lip to try and snap out of that daze before you cough, as if that would help tone down the colors adorning your face. There’s no verbal response from you, and it seems like Yoongi doesn’t expect one either, because he just chuckles. You think he must notice the palpable nervousness that radiates off of you, but it’s not like you’re doing a very good job at hiding it.

You’re taking baby steps and he knows it. The fact that you even agreed to this at all is already major progress.

When you’re done eating, he clears the table while he asks you to open the expensive bottle of wine that he brought over. It does wonders for your nerves.

Three glasses in and you’re visibly more relaxed as you both sit on the couch in the living room, facing each other. There’s a small smile on your face that you can’t help, maybe it’s some of your inhibitions wearing off as a side effect of the alcohol. 

You glance around the room, and you take in the sight of Yoongi sitting here, this close to you. He feels bigger than your small world can handle.

“You know,” you start. If the wine didn’t make you more mellow, you probably wouldn’t be saying this. “There are thousands of people thirsting over you every day.”

Yoongi tilts his head, swirling the wine in his glass. “Really?”

“Don’t you look at the internet? I personally know two girls from college who are on the Yoongi Marry Me train,” you say matter-of-factly, like you aren’t borderline tipsy in front of him.

You aren’t an avid Twitter user, but every time you check the damn bird app, Yoongi is almost always trending. In every single one of his posts on social media, there is always an influx of comments asking him to marry them. Not only that, when word first got out about you collaborating with Agust D back then, people you knew - both old friends and acquaintances - practically bombarded your messages to see if it was true, and to ask if you could get them an autograph.

Yoongi stretches out his legs until they brush against yours. Your stomach flips even though it’s only your legs that are barely touching.

“The what train?”

“You seriously don’t know about the Yoongi Marry Me movement? Look it up. It’s a whole thing. People would do anything to, I don’t know, hold your hand or something.”

With an amused look on his face, he holds your gaze. “Would you?”

“What?”

“Would you do all of that just to hold my hand? Because you don’t have to, y’know.” He brings the wine glass to his lips, partially hiding his face from you, and you don’t know whether he’s doing it for your sake or his in preparation for the words he speaks next. “But I would do it to hold yours.”

You’re sure that your cheeks are burning bright, your stomach twisted in knots. It’s the wine, but it’s definitely the effect of his words too. You stare at Yoongi in surprise; no matter how many times he openly flirts with you, he’d still elicit the same reaction from you. It’ll be hard to get used to it. He just always seems to know what to say to make you blush like a schoolgirl, which you resent but you can’t deny the sparks of excitement that make your fingertips tingle.

Yoongi is smooth, and it’s even worse - or is it better? You haven’t decided yet - that you know he means every word he says. It makes you feel… wanted. It’s good to know that he’s being genuine, and to know that Yoongi isn’t the type of person who would ever pull the rug out from under you.

Yoongi is… stable.

You suppose, after everything you’ve been through, that stability is what you need. It’s good for you.

You try to swerve around the thoughts, to avoid them at all costs, but deep down you know now that they’re glaringly true.

That love is stored in two bags of groceries, so filled to the brim that some onions almost fall out. Love is stored in every flick of his wrist holding a knife, slicing the sharp blade across your cutboard. Clean cuts, yet he’s never this way when it comes to you.

Love is stored in a fond smile and adoring eyes when he sees how you cradle your expensive dishware like it’s a newborn baby before you set it carefully on the table.

Love is stored in a Yoongi-shaped silhouette, dancing over your countertops with practiced precision in every movement, filling in the cracks of your home. The love in him is reserved because you, like the moon when it crescents, still have a ways to go.

When he stands at your door an hour later with his coat in hand, you wait for him to speak first.

“Performance review?” he asks. “How did I do?”

“I… liked it. It was nice,” you say honestly. But you still feel the wine in your system, and it makes you bold enough to tease him for a change. “But it was my first date in a while, so it’s hard to tell if that opinion is objective.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Do I qualify for a second date then?”

You hum in thought, making him wait on purpose. “Yeah, I guess,” you say, feigning nonchalance, which earns you a hearty laugh.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asks, hopeful.

“Don’t know yet,” you answer, though you’ll probably end up going home and catching up on a kdrama. “Are you coming in tomorrow?”

“Just in the morning. I have a shoot in the afternoon.” He shifts to lean his weight on his other leg, tipping his body closer to you. “But I can pick you up after.”

“Yeah? And where would we go?”

Yoongi shrugs in earnest. “Just drive around? Grab a bite?” he thinks out loud, tilting his head slightly to one side for emphasis. “I could take you to that popup store you mentioned.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You would stand in line with me to buy a novelty mug?”

“Pretty sure we wouldn’t have to stand in line if I gave them a call,” he says, grinning. “One of the perks of the job, y’know.”

“Must be nice,” you laugh, then shift to lean just a tad closer to him. You look at him for a brief moment before you agree, “Yeah, okay.”

You and Yoongi stand there at the door, each of you on either side of the threshold. This would be an appropriate moment for a kiss, you think. That explosive first kiss, if this were a movie. Exhilaration courses through your veins. You feel it from your head to the tips of your fingers to your toes. The feeling is rendering you a mere teenager again. 

It’s exciting because it’s new. You have the entire book ahead of you, waiting to be written. At this point, anything could happen. You’re a blank canvas waiting to be drawn, a blank page hoping to be written. 

Wait.

Back up.

A kiss?

A kiss?!

With Yoongi?

You’re thinking about kissing Yoongi?!

Fuck.

Fuck?!

It’s the wine.

Your thoughts knock against each other like bumper cars, echoing loudly in your brain that it almost gives you a headache.

You stay still as Yoongi leans down, your heart racing while your brain just keyboard-smashes. You can’t tell if you want him to kiss you or not, but when he only presses his lips against your cheek, you feel two emotions at once.

The first is disappointment, the second is relief. They press down on you with almost equal force, and you’re not really sure which one weighs heavier.

Baby steps.

You blink when he pulls away, and he just smiles fondly at you as if he can read your mind.

“Goodnight, princess.”

You watch him until he’s in the elevator, until the doors close and the lift descends. Even when you know that he must be on his way to his car and that someone else is making their way up, you stand there, with your hand loosely wrapped around the door handle, your breathing slightly erratic as you process what just happened. 

Déjà vu? 

It’s oddly reminiscent.

You’ve been here before.

Part of you thinks he’ll burst through the elevator doors, or rush up the stairs if the lift is occupied, and come back to grab your face and kiss you senseless.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook knows you’re probably waiting for Yoongi.

He’s seen Yoongi pick you up after work almost daily over the past couple of weeks, and it’s driving him insane. Even on the days that Yoongi comes to the studio during the day, the guy is all over you, so much so that he doesn’t even bother being a nuisance to Jungkook anymore, which just makes him a thousand times more insufferable.

Something is happening.

He can’t weasel shit out of Jimin anymore because Jimin has been especially tight-lipped after accidentally spilling Yoongi’s confession to you.

Because that should be him in Yoongi’s place. Or should he say his place, and Yoongi is just a placeholder. An imposter.

Because it used to be him that you smiled shyly at.

Jimin’s words have been plaguing his every waking hour since he was forced to hear them. If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too. It feels like he’s rewinding all of your memories, retracing them with cautious fingers only to find that his every footstep is being erased to make room for someone else.

An abandoned dirt road, while you walk down a flower-filled path holding someone else’s hand.

Like you’re stamping him out.

Like he was never there at all.

Not only are you denying him a chance, you’re giving it to someone else. When he tries to move at someone else’s pace, all he gets is left behind.

It’s not about Yoongi; or at least, it’s not just about him. Yoongi doesn’t even really matter to Jungkook in this equation. It’s about what Yoongi represents. An idea of a person that Jungkook can never be.

A bigger life. A stable present and an even brighter future. Yoongi is everything better than him.

And that’s his own problem to deal with, not anyone else’s. At the end of the day, no one has to live with his insecurities but himself.

But still, he can’t help it. Whenever he sees you with Yoongi, his eyes burn. Please don’t let him take my place, he wishes every time, you’re the only good thing about me.

It’s jealousy, sure, of course it’s there. 

But what if you realize what everyone else already knows? That Yoongi is better in every single way. That Yoongi is the person who really deserves you.

What if you start to see Jungkook the way he sees himself?

You hating him - despising him with every cell in your body - is a thousand times better than you deeming him unworthy.

“I talked to Jihyo,” he speaks up suddenly, when it’s only the two of you.

“Okay,” you answer, never taking your eyes off the page in front of you. You must have circled the words daisy a thousand times already, wracking your brain for anything that rhymes. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this, but good for you.”

At this point, you wonder if you should just avoid the studio for the time being. It’s empty here again. You resent Seokjin for drowning in concept photos. You resent Namjoon for leaving Jungkook here to fend for himself, but it’s only fair, because Namjoon was only supposed to give him a helping hand, not take over the whole thing. You even resent Yoongi a bit, for not being here right this second.

“I talked to her,” Jungkook says again, ignoring your sass. “She won’t give you a hard time anymore.”

This makes you look at him. You never asked him to do this. You never asked him to do anything. In fact, you have only ever implored him to sit still and leave things alone.

“She never gave me a hard time,” you say. Sure, you don’t appreciate being given the death glare first thing in the morning, but it’s not something that you can’t ignore. It doesn’t actively affect you, and the only reason Jihyo does it is because of Jungkook.

Because he broke things off with her?

Because he gives you more attention?

Ugh. Attention?

This is the stupidest and most childish thing you have had to think about in ages.

“You said she acts differently toward you.”

“And aren’t you the reason why?” you counter. “Because you two were fucking?”

Jungkook visibly winces at your words, like he did when you mentioned it the first time in the break room. You don’t mean to be snarky; you’re just stating the facts. They were hooking up. 

You don’t harbor any ill will toward any of his past lovers, and that includes Jihyo. You know she doesn’t have anything against you either, at least not on a personal level because you don’t know each other well enough to do so. She’s just someone you pass by every day on your way to the elevator.

“So why did things end?” you ask just for the sake of it, since he was the one who brought it up. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious.

He hesitates for a moment. “She wanted something more and it wasn’t the same for me.”

It’s stupid that the tiny voice in the back of your head resurfaces, hoping that you were the reason why he couldn’t pursue things with another woman.

Jihyo isn’t you, that much is clear. You never asked for anything more from him, not once from start to finish. He was always the first one to pour love into you. It’s arguable which one of you loved the other more - maybe you loved each other equally, just in different ways - but it was a fact that Jungkook always took the initiative. He made the first move so you wouldn’t have to. He gave you the option to match his affection, and never have to worry about being left out to dry.

He took initiative, right until the very end.

You bite your bottom lip, then give him a curt response, “Okay.”

Your phone vibrates with a text from Yoongi but you don’t open it just yet. You look at Jungkook, who only looks back at you. His lips part slightly as he searches for the right words, or any word at all. It’s like you’re asking him to navigate a minefield when all he has to do is be honest. Even if he told you that he fell out of love with you, it wouldn’t be that bad. You would be hurt, yes, but you wouldn’t blame him. You would understand. It would be a reason.

Silence fills the room, save for the continuous tapping of your pen on paper.

He says your name, pleading. “I’m trying here.”

At Jimin’s party, Jungkook said you were someone important to him. You don’t doubt that he meant it, and that’s what infuriates you the most. You’re important, but he keeps running circles around you and making your head spin. You’re important, but everything he’s done makes you think that you’re the opposite. You’re important, just not important enough to get an explanation.

You know he’s genuine about everything he says, but that’s not enough. You can’t sustain yourself on just his words alone.

It’s another cycle of the same conversation, running over and over and over again. He’s reaching out but he’s holding back. You’re still getting nowhere. You don’t know how many times he has to make you ask this, only to not give you any clarity at all.

If there is a trait of Jungkook’s that you both love and hate at the same time, it is that he doesn’t know when to quit.

He texts you every day even when you don’t reply - one for good morning, and one for goodnight. He gets you a chai latte every day, which doesn’t do shit for your concentration because there’s not enough caffeine in it. He gets the door for you whenever you go into the same room together. He hounds your every waking moment. He makes sure that he’s the first thing you see when you wake up, and the last thought that crosses your mind before you go to sleep.

I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

You suppose this is him, showing up again. In a lot of ways, it’s selfish. But it’s an effort too. Now your phone is full of meaningless messages that remain unread.

You barely glance at him. It’s routine at this point. He tries in ways that you don’t bother acknowledging anymore, because you figured that the best course of action is to let him wear himself out.  When he has had enough of it, when he deems his efforts to be enough to absolve his guilt, he’ll stop. He has to.

But at what point does it stop?

At what point will you stop wanting to give in to him? Your mind rages wars with itself every time you feel his eyes on you, and you have to kill the urge to not turn your head and look at him too. At what point will you stop wanting to go to him and let him in again? At what point will you stop unconsciously making him a priority?

All of this, you supposed, is to say: Do you still love him?

You know that if you sit down and get to the root of it, you’ll find an answer you don’t like. Even in this moment, you want him to tell you just a fraction of the truth, because that would probably be enough to reel you back in.

Your own heart claws at your chest but this is how it has to be for a while. All you can do is take it one day at a time, gently nudge your heart in one direction like a child that needs to be goaded, until he doesn’t live on the forefront of your mind anymore.

Until someone else does.

“No, you’re not.” You stand up then, closing your notebook with more force than necessary. “If you’re really trying, then I wouldn’t still be wondering why I wasn’t enough to make you stay.”

Even then, you’re still hoping that he’d say something else. But when you’re only met with silence, the anticipated disappointment in you bubbles, boiling. His reluctance to clue you in makes it easier for you to decide.

There's someone else who's willing to give you things that you don't even need to ask for.

In your mind, it's clear who you should choose.

Jungkook clenches his teeth, holding his breath as he watches you shove your things into your bag. “Are you going home?” he asks after a minute.

You could say yes and let the conversation die a swift and simple death. But for some reason, you choose to kill it violently. You bite the inside of your cheek before you tell him, “I don’t know. Yoongi’s picking me up.”

The chagrinned look that takes over his features for a split second is one that you immediately catch. Maybe it’s because he wants to make sure you know how he feels about this, or maybe you still have a way of reading him somehow. Regardless of what his face tells you, he doesn’t prod any further.

Your phone vibrates on the table, the sound ten times more thunderous amidst the silence that’s befallen the both of you. You don’t need to check the screen to know who’s calling, and neither does he. When you leave, the sound of your fading footsteps ricochets off the walls. It shoots right through him.

He hears every word of that conversation ringing in his ears then. He recalls that afternoon’s sunset; it was the most beautiful sunset he saw that year, despite the sun overhead mocking him with every magnificent glint of light. He sees the look on your face when his words finally register in your mind, the Oh moment when you understood what he was saying, when the smile you wore sunk helplessly to the floor because even though you knew that love had an expiration date, you hoped your love would be the exception. 

That memory fades, only to be replaced by something much worse. He sits there with Jimin’s words, echoing in his mind, reverberating around the room.

Technically, you and Yoongi haven’t been on a second date. You think.

You’ve seen him almost every night since the dinner, when he picks you up at the studio. Sometimes, you two just drive around. Sometimes, you sit by the river in the cold, eating hot ramen cups and giggling over nothing. Sometimes, he just takes you straight to your home if he has a packed schedule the next day.

These days, you see Yoongi even more than you see Taehyung. Even though he hasn’t explicitly implied that any of these outings is a date, you know you aren’t hanging out as just friends anymore.

It feels good to be wanted. The feeling is reinforced tenfold because it’s been so long that it’s like you’re experiencing it for the first time in a new body, as a different person.

But even after all of that, you two can still go back to being friends like nothing ever happened. Because in a way, maybe nothing did happen. Maybe things have always been like this between you, the only difference is now you’re noticing the meaning behind his words and glances.

You two can still go back, because technically, no line has been crossed.

But tonight, something feels different. It’s colder, but Yoongi keeps you warm with all the looks he’s been giving you all night.

It feels like you’re both toeing that line right now. 

You know that once you cross it, things can’t revert back to the way they were anymore.

You know that it will happen eventually, because Yoongi isn’t doing this just to half-ass it. He won’t back out, and he has made it crystal clear from the start. 

Usually, this is the part where he tells you goodnight and you have to pretend not to freak out when he kisses you on the cheek in goodbye.

He takes a step closer, you take no step back. 

“You know what I’m about to do, right?”

You do. You could say you’re even hopeful.

“I might have an idea…”

“Okay,” he says easily. He takes your waist in his hands and brings you closer. The way the corner of his mouth tugs upward tells you that he’s pleased, that you know what’s about to come and you’re letting it happen. Still, he asks, “Can I?”

You nod. That glowing sensation washes over you in waves.

“Words, princess,” he reminds you. 

Your hands land on the lapel of his coat. “Yes, you can.”

He chuckles, and squeezes you a little tighter. 

Then it happens.

The line you clumsily drew in the sand has been erased.

Yoongi is kissing you.

You’re kissing him back. 

He’s soft and warm and he holds you like you’re delicate. His sincerity, you can feel it in his kiss, and it’s only a fraction of it. Regardless, there is still life that blooms this winter. Inside of you, small and fragile, but it’s there.

You sigh into his mouth, feeling completely limbless if not for him holding your body upright. One of his arms wounds itself tighter around your middle while his other hand tucks your hair behind your ear so he could cup your cheek more easily. Yoongi tilts his head further to one side to deepen the kiss. You feel something in his kiss that you have never heard in his words, something soft and pleading. Wanting but still contained. Out of fear that you might run away, perhaps? You can’t blame him though. You are a bit of a flight risk.

The wind dances past like a nosy bystander, pressing you further into him like it wants you to be more sure in the way you move, in how much of yourself you’re willing to give to him. Instead, the cold just makes you shiver.

When you break away, his hand on your face moves to hold the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t look half as flushed as you think you do, though his cheeks are slightly rosy.

Through a thin veil of clouds, the moon still shines down on his profile. 

The chill in the air, the mesmerizing view of moonlight dancing across his features, and most of all, the way you’re still lost in the kiss, in the feeling of being wanted.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you up,” he says, after you stay silent for a beat too long, hooded eyes basking in the warmth of a heart chasing your own. You want to want him. You do want him, but there’s still something missing. It doesn’t feel entirely right, but for now, you try not to dwell on it too much. Just let it be. Maybe in time, that void will inevitably fill.

Yoongi holds your hand through the lobby and on the whole way up even if neither of you says anything, just shy glances in the elevator and bashful half-hidden smiles. You don’t invite him in once you get to your door - because an invite now insinuates something that you just aren’t ready for - but he does kiss you again. If the kiss you shared downstairs is a proper goodnight kiss, then this one means see you later and doesn’t last half as long, but it makes you tingle just the same.

He pulls back, only to dive in again, and again, and again, until one chaste kiss turns into five and you have to push him away with a giggle so you can breathe.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes still set on your mouth. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yoongi,” you say, a little breathily, like oxygen hasn’t sufficiently made its way into your lungs since downstairs.

He rests his forehead against yours. “You’ve never said my name like that before,” he sighs.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you again.”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth and pretend to consider this even though you know you would like to be kissed again. “Maybe I do,” you say after a beat, bravely. “Just one more.”

He gives you your final kiss of the night then, one that lasts a second longer than the others, like he’s trying to memorize how you taste.

You head in once Yoongi is out of sight. You lean your body against the door the second you snap the lock shut. You touch your lips lightly, reliving those moments again even though they happened mere seconds ago. You’re buzzing with excitement like a schoolgirl, every feeling coursing through your body all at once. 

You’re familiar with this. It’s the stage right before every love song you listen to suddenly reminds you of that one person.

You go through your regular evening routine with a pep in your step, thanks to a certain person tonight. You take off your carefully applied makeup and take a nice, hot shower. You think the heat would help melt away the high that you’re riding - like you’ve had too much coffee to drink and now your senses are beyond heightened - but it doesn’t. Once you’re fresh and comfortable in your PJs, you still feel that jittery feeling seeping through your pores, keeping you awake. There’s a message from Yoongi that tells you he has made it home safely.

It’s still early, and you’re far too restless to go to bed. You decided to brew yourself a mug of chamomile tea, even though you don’t even like chamomile and you can’t remember why you even have it, but they say that apparently chamomile is good for sleep. You decide to take the mug into the living room to sort through your mini mountain of mail that should’ve been dealt with days ago.

Sitting underneath that pile of junk mail and letters addressed to the previous tenant even though you’ve lived here for nearly two years, is a cream-colored card addressed to you. The material feels smooth under your fingertips, like velvet if that’s even possible. Inside, there are two names - one you recognize and another you don’t - typed out in a fancy calligraphy font and encircled by pretty flowers, all pinks and whites and romantic.

The saccharine sensation associated with the thought of Yoongi dissipates instantly. Instead, your mind blanks, only to buzz to life again momentarily with a newfound sinking feeling dragging you down.

You suddenly realize that Jungkook hasn’t crossed your mind once tonight. Not until now. That crestfallen look in his eyes from the other night appears in your mind again, clear as day.

You are, quite literally, holding someone’s declaration of love and yet, it’s not joy that you feel, having been asked to join them on their special day. 

You never thought you would see Jungkook’s family again - even though you always adored his parents and you felt that they loved you too - let alone receive an invitation to his brother’s wedding.

remember when y'all said u wanted a wedding?? well u didn't say whose wedding 😌

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted march 27, 2023]

[mariaofdoranelle]

The Courtship Deception - Part 3: Curtain

Fic Masterlist

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics

Warnings: moderate alcohol intake

Words: 923

“You can’t hide behind the curtains all night, Princess,” Fenrys said, both of them in the kitchen staff area while Aelin peeked at the party from behind the wooden doors that separated them.

Aelin sighed and smoothed her hands down her black silky dress. Her father thought that arranging this huge party was a good way to “rekindle” something with her suitors—she tried to argue that she dated Chaol for a month when she was eighteen, and never even got to call Dorian her boyfriend, but Rhoe was as dense as a rock, completely blinded by the prize that came after the wedding.

Not that Aelin would marry either of them, but her father didn’t know that yet.

She didn’t know most of the people attending this party, though she knew some names or at least remembered seeing them at some point. They were Rhoe’s guests, even if the party was initially planned for Aelin. She scanned the crowd, trying to find a familiar face, until she found a remarkably singular silver head.

Aelin stiffened, her heartbeat faster as she recognized this particular guest. There was no way he could be here.

“Fenrys.” She lightly tapped his arm. “Go get me a drink.”

The second his back was to her, Aelin turned around, that silver hair guiding her. She hated to deceive her friend like this, but as much as he liked to help her schemes, Fenrys was still her father’s employee, and they were currently being watched.

“Aelin.” A gentle hand on her elbow stopped her, and she turned around to meet Dorian’s concerned gaze. “We need to talk.”

She softened at the sight of him. It’d been a while since they last spoke, and a conversation was needed indeed. Dorian was her friend first and foremost, no matter what arrangements their fathers put them through.

“Of course, I…” A peek at her goal just to check that she didn’t lose him in the crowd. “I’m just gonna get a drink first.”

“Let me get it for you,” Dorian said, disappearing before she could stop him.

Well, at least it worked for her. Aelin politely made her way through her father’s business partners, just brief greetings so she wouldn’t lose that loner figure sitting—

“Thank Mala I found you!” Chaol stopped her, one hand on her shoulder. “Look, we—“

“I need a drink!” Aelin interrupted, voice loud and blunt. She hated to ditch three of her friends like this, but a girl gotta do what a girl gotta do.

“Absolutely.” Chaol nodded, and off he went.

Her footsteps were hurried, knowing she had three men in her tow, but the closer she got, the more certain she was that it was really him. They’ve exchanged flirty texts here and there over the phone, but she hadn’t expected to see him tonight.

“Did Fenrys invite you?” Aelin asked as she sat beside him with no invitation.

Rowan cocked his head, eyes glinting. “I can let myself in.”

“I bet you do.” She took the drink from his hand and took a sip, sending him a witchy look from under her lashes while trying to ignore the bourbon burning down her throat at the same time.

Rowan raised an eyebrow at her. “You did dodge my questions about when I could see you, so I thought I’d get my answer in person.”

She smiled, so very busted. Sneaking out to see a boy required some maneuvering Aelin couldn’t afford with her dad’s new plan and him watching her so closely because of it, but she wouldn’t disclose all that to him.

“Just so you know, I was avoiding that question because I still need to find a time I’ll get that friend of yours off my back.”

“But why?” Rowan asked, smirking. “Taking Fenrys out on a date sounds just lovely.”

Aelin had one palm supporting her chin on the table and another holding Rowan’s bourbon, not knowing where to look—to his gorgeous face or the tattoo on his wrist that his sleeve didn’t manage to cover up—when someone cleared his throat next to them.

It was Fenrys, intrigued onyx eyes focused on her, with Chaol and Dorian next to him. “Your drink, Aelin—all three of them.”

“You took so long that Rowan already got me one,” she said with a straight face, twirling his bourbon in her hand.

Chaol huffed and left, Fenrys placed her Manhattan on the table and positioned himself to watch her from a certain distance, and Dorian watched the scene unfold as if its sight held all answers he sought.

He sipped the drink that was meant for her, then raised it in a greeting. “Prince Rowan.”

Prince?

She widened her eyes at Rowan, just to watch him give Dorian a curt nod and say, “Havilliard.”

Weird. No common person just nodded at a crown prince. Aelin tilted her head, trying to make sense of it.

Rowan’s panicked look under her scrutinizing one sparked the realization, her blood racing.

She should’ve known from the unique silver hair and pine-green eyes combo; even from how Fenrys would refuse to talk about him the same way he did with his job with the Doranelle’s royal family. Aelin felt so dumb for taking days to realize it, but the Whitethorns were so many, it was impossible to keep track of all of them—from the youngest generation, Sellene and Enda were the ones the tabloids focused on.

“You wouldn’t have to keep crashing parties if you weren’t so secretive about your identity, Whitethorn.”

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[azrielgreen]

Hi, I hope you don't mind my asking you this but why don't you like people reviewing your work on Goodreads? a lot of other authors are proud to have their work reviewed there and it makes fics more accessible so I don't really know why you'd ask people not to? Please don't think this is a criticism at all. I'm genuinely curious and absolutely love all your work!!!

Hi, that's absolutely fine. I'm always happy to talk about it and I know it can be a little divisive because people like to bookmark/review what they're reading and that mostly does come from a place of good intentions.

Firstly, I would never want my fics to be accessible or mainstream. It was always surprising to me that YD was read by so many. I write for myself for fun, and the only people I want to read it are the people who actually want to read it, who went looking for it using tags or read the blurb and thought, 'yes, definitely for me!' - usually a small audience, which makes me very happy!

It's no secret that I absolute despise rating systems for fanfiction and what that leads to - the mainstreaming of fanfiction in general. Fanfiction is written by people who just want to share their work, not to compete with others and get on the NY Times Bestseller list.

There is NO NEED WHATSOEVER in my opinion to rate fanfiction based on personal preference/enjoyment/critique. Goodreads is first and foremost a rating system for reviewing books. I actually disagree with rating art in any way whatsoever, including published works, movies, music etc... I believe that a rating system should, at best, be used to provide feedback about the functionality of a service/object. Art is subjective, it's there to elicit emotions and feelings and IMO should not be rated in such a way. One person's 1/5 review is useless to someone else because everyone is different and exploration is discouraged when the rating is low, but I'm getting wildly off track here.

Fanfiction is not intended, IMO, for wide mainstream consumption. The casual normalisation of rating fanfics on GR & TikTok has become a plague of misery for many writers and a lazy haven for mean-spirited book critic wannabes. To be very clear, I'm talking about RATING them. Giving them a score out of 10 or 5. Picking them apart in a negative & critical way, often on the immediate basis of them not being "canon compliant". Only today, I saw a TikTok of someone slamming a fic for being "different than the book".

To me, fanfiction is so special and beautiful and rare. I'd be lost without it and I read it daily. There are stories that have legitimately saved me. Fanfiction can be anything, written by anyone at any level. No one is obligated to read it, therefore any criticism, you keep to yourself. Rating it on Goodreads alongside published works is, in my humble opinion, fucking gross unless the author has specifically added it themselves.

This includes rating the fic in bookmarks, which is rampant. High rating or not, it's not a nice feeling and a little fandom etiquette goes a long way.

💜💜💜

[arliedraws]

Arlie, I am here to rant in your inbox. I have loved Prongsfoot for so long, but there's a new wave of writers in the fandom (who, let's be real, are Wolfstar writers first and foremost) that are insistent it can only be written as deranged, unhinged, and toxic. And they talk about how fun it is to write such an obsessive ship after how wholesome Wolfstar is. It infuriates me. Dunno if you've noticed this too, but yeah. I love your take on Prongsfoot but also they can be sweet and kind and gentle too, you know? Wolfstar being considered the healthy ship and Prongsfoot the toxic one is insane to me.

Please, I love a good rant! My ask box is open for a reason 😂

But honestly, I think these folks are right. Unquestionable loyalty and matched brilliance/skill and equality and “you’re the only person who sees the real me” is so so so toxic. Imagine feeling supported and equal in a relationship!!!!!

Truthfully, I had to make Sirius a Slytherin to inject the toxicity I long for in a fic. Canon James and Sirius are devoted to each other, so adding in some desperate physical closeness and “I need to be melt with you” might just…y’know. Happen. It’s soft and rough and gentle and wild. They have the range.

And look, I don’t mind Wolfstar as a toxic ship as long as everyone is in character, but there’s a lot of weeeeeeird alpha/omega stuff going on in this fandom and when it’s not that, there’s a lot of this purity/anti-sex culture that focuses so much on cutesy romance which is NOT the same as sweet and gentle. Can you have both? Yeah, but GOD. I come online to be horny and weird.

Just so we're clear: Prongsfoot is a wholesome, safe-to-eat ship. I don't know what these folks are on about.

[rollercoasterwords]

your fanfic doesn't need to be Content

ok so thanks to this lovely anonymous message i've been motivated to organize my thoughts on the increasingly common phenomenon of fanfic writers treating their own fics like Content for consumption, the way an influencer on social media might (all of this is in the context of the marauders fandom specifically -- no idea how or whether it might apply elsewhere)

what i mean by that is, essentially, instances of fanfic writers playing into the idea that fanfiction is a product created for the consumption of readers (and thereby the idea that fandom is a community that can be clearly divided between "producers"/writers and "consumers"/readers).

some examples i've seen: people "advertising" their fics on platforms like tiktok, sometimes even before they've started writing said fic ("hey guys i'm going to start writing a fic with x y z who's interested??"), or making posts asking outright "if i wrote a fic with x y z would people read it??" i've also seen people share concerns that if they write a certain thing they want to write (i.e, heavy smut, heavy angst, etc) then it will make their fic less "accessible" to a broader audience ("i want everyone to be able to enjoy my fics!")

another recent example that comes to mind is the "jegulus strike." while i'm sure it was largely well-intentioned, a strike is a form of protest tied inextricably to a consumer economy, and positioning writers as laborers who are standing in opposition to readers demanding that labor reinforces the framework of a consumer economy in which fanfiction is a product for consumption.

something i want to make clear here--i'm not saying that any of these behaviors are like....Moral Failings deserving of Ridicule. i think we are all very much conditioned by late-stage capitalism + algorithmic social media to view everything, even our hobbies, within the framework of a consumer economy. this is just me observing some of the ways i see that mindset creeping into fandom spaces.

like. i think there's this unspoken assumption that art is only worthwhile if it has an audience; that creative pursuits only matter if you can profit from them. if people are applying this mindset to fanfiction, then it makes sense to see this impulse to advertise fics the way authors advertise their books on tiktok, or twitter, or whatever. it makes sense for writers to become preoccupied with audience perception, perhaps changing their stories to make them more palatable for a certain audience or even going into the writing process with the audience already in mind--an overhanging and ever-present anxiety, asking yourself "how will this be received?"

the problem is that fanfiction doesn't fit into this model. it has always been meant for a niche audience, never the mainstream, and it has always existed outside the profit economy. trying to turn fanfiction into broadly consumable content is antithetical to the medium itself, and, in all likelihood, will fail. the vast majority of fanfiction is never going to be read by hundreds of thousands of people. if you go into writing it with an audience as your end goal, you will likely be disappointed.

what makes fanfiction so wonderful and unique is that it is meant to be written, first and foremost, for the writer. fanfiction as a medium grew out of personal joy in creation, out of individuals who thought "I want to see this story for myself" and then wrote it. because fanfiction is specific, catered to individual tastes and niche audiences, it lends itself to a unique sort of community in which your work attracts other people with that same niche taste, making it easier to strike up a conversation or start a friendship by saying, "hey, i love this story you wrote for yourself! it just so happens to be the exact sort of thing i wanted to read."

so i guess at the end of the day, my question for other fic writers is: if nobody was ever going to read this, would you still want to write it?

and if the answer is no...i think that's something that calls for reflection! where is your motivation rooted? is it rooted in a desire to create, in the joy of creation? or is it rooted in a desire to be seen, to be validated? wanting to be seen and validated is entirely natural, and it is by no means a bad thing. oftentimes, both these impulses--creation and validation--will be part of the decision to write + post a fic. but if validation is your primary motivation, and if you have internalized the idea that validation means getting as many people as possible to look at the thing you're making and click a heart button, then you will probably end up disappointed. you will probably end up feeling like your writing isn't good enough, no matter how many people end up reading it--because no audience will ever be big enough to validate you if you aren't able to take pride in your creation independent of any metrics of consumption.

i'm not saying that you should never share your fics on social media. like i mentioned above, community is one of the best parts of fanfiction--but are you posting in search of community? or are you posting in search of an audience? i know the line can get blurry sometimes, but i do think those two things look different, and i do think it is productive to look inwards and ask what you are truly seeking when you throw your writing into the void of social media posts. and i think as writers it's important not to fall into the trap of acting like our fics are a product intended for audience consumption, because to do so contributes to the deterioration of a fandom culture that is separate from the profit economy. plus, i just think all of us would be happier if we started trying to actively unlearn the idea that art is only worthwhile if it manages to amass a huge audience.

[zephrunsimperium]

is Knowing Me, Knowing You a romantic billford story? what kind of story is it, actually? it looks interesting but I’m afraid to read any type of billford in fear of it being… not the best. what do you think of the ship, actually, since you’re such a fidduathor fan? also, does it end okay, even when incomplete? I have a lot of questions about the fic tbh. too scared to read it tho lol

Whooooo boy do I have a lot to say about this... I highly encourage everyone to read this entire post.

So, my thoughts on BillFord are extremely complicated. I am, first and foremost, a FiddAuthor shipper. That is the ship I consider canon and I even headcanon Bill to be aroace and actively encourage Ford and Fidds to get together because Ford needs to get over stupid societal homophobia plus it's fun to wear down the human's moral compass about hitting on a married man.

BillFord is a FASCINATING concept and it's not hard to see why the ship is as popular as it is despite the (well-deserved) stigma; a lot of things between them that can be read as fuel to the shipping fire. (ie the hair ruffles, the nose flick, the nicknames, the gold statue, the piano serenade, Ford being attracted to the strange, Bill offering to make Ford "one of us," even the possibly kinky undertones of glowy blue chains and bodily possession)

But the problem is that the ship can get very nasty very fast. Make no mistake, what Bill does to Ford is abuse. He is manipulative and violent and cruel. "Mystery bruises?" Literally torturing Ford on screen? Driving a wedge between Ford and his support system to the point that he has extreme trouble trusting people? Preying upon Ford's insecurities about being a freak? That is horrifying stuff, in particular because of how clear the parallels are to real world abuse.

With that in mind, let me talk about KMKY. I loved this fic to pieces. It’s written and organized incredibly well with a good mix of humor, sentiment, tragedy, and villainy without ever feeling off-balance tonally. The best thing about this fic, however, is the mature and nuanced themes about abuse: how hard it is to still love your abuser even when you start realizing that they're as bad as they are, accepting that you're a victim and have no reason to apologize, how an abuser's own trauma isn't an excuse for their actions. I really appreciate that the author has sympathy for Bill while still clearly acknowledging that "hey, what Bill did to Ford was abuse and Ford doesn't have to forgive him, much less take him back." A lesser writer would force Bill and Ford together, but that's not what happens because it's not what should happen.

So, for anyone who is interested in reading it... The gist of it is that instead of inviting Fiddleford to work on the portal, Ford makes a body for Bill to assist in person. The first 33 chapters develop their relationship (ft. Fiddleford being confused and stressed) and then Ford finds out Bill has been lying and eventually goes through the portal. It is very much a romance but the writing is so good that there are times when it's genuinely heartbreaking that the two of them won't work out.

I would definitely say that Bill is the main character (even though Ford has a significant amount of viewpoint time and he's the one you're supposed to root for) because he's the one who changes throughout the story. It's not a positive change, but it is an extremely compelling character arc. The characterization of Bill in this fic is particularly cool to me because he’s definitely a complete person, but he’s very clearly inhuman.

A little preview/incentive to read it: all of Bill’s underlings have individual personalities, Jheselbraum is a super important character and her characterization is... really cool (that's not a good description, but I was in love with it), the worldbuilding of all the places Ford visits in the multiverse was really cool and fun, there are great OCs like Wendy's mom, this mob boss guy that is a delight to hate, and a sarcastic kick-ass alien lady, Bill's backstory is really impactful, Pyronica is a bad bitch, Bill and Ford fight zombies while We Go Together from Grease plays in the background, there are cool themes about enjoying the mundane things in life and how society treats the Strange, and well-written humor that had me laughing out loud constantly. For as long as it is, all of it was extremely memorable and hardly any of it felt like filler. (I will warn you if you choose to read it, there is some serious steam.)

As for the ending... I totally understand why the author stopped writing it. They were trying to make it canon-compliant, but by the time it caught up to the show it was very clear that adhering to the canon material was holding them back. They did their best, but I could tell they weren't enjoying writing it and if you're not enjoying your art, then I don't think it's worth doing.

Wow that was a long post. Thanks so much for the ask, Anon! I hope this was a satisfying response!

[marimayscarlett]

Can someone with psychological knowledge please explain fan fiction? And of course, in this instance, I mean Rammstein fan fiction. I can read anything from comfort to the nastiest, filthiest stories and really pull myself into that world, especially if it's written very realistically (no ooc) AND YET once I finish reading, it is over. There's none of it bleeding into reality. Sure, we all aww at Paulchard kisses and touches and make silly jokes but it's never "Oh they are 100% fucking".

It's like getting off, washing your hands, and then coming out for dinner with the family 😐

Hi 👋🏼

I must say, this is an interesting take on things (and made me laugh in the last part, not going to lie 😅). I may not have extensive psychological knowledge, yet I'll give it a try and put my (of course subjective) thoughts into words here.

For me, fan fiction first and foremost is like a filter you put over reality - to try out different 'what-if' scenarios, living out fantasies in a save space, explore possible different timelines, universes (be it daring fantasy AUs or the good old comforting coffee shop/comic book store AUs) and outcomes of maybe real life scenarios of the people in question (rather popular in the R+ realm of course is the Mutter era on this regard).

You mentioned that none of it bleeds into reality for you - one possible reason for it can be (from my perspective) that the base of all these fan fictions, the band itself, really exists before our own eyes. We can check on them, get updates about the band members, we comprehend that these are real people with personal lives, making decisions in their lives which lead them in a certain way. I can imagine as soon as you (or lots of people who feel the same way) finish a fan fic, the so called 'filter' is instantly gone. Since in real life it's very clear that for example Paul is in a committed relationship/Schneider is married with kids/the band members are in fact just day to day people and not high profile gangsters (etc etc, you get the jist); I can imagine that these real existing facts can act like a sobering effect.

Yet not everyone has this admittedly quite healthy distance to fan fiction - I must admit that when I read for example a tragic fan fiction (character death, lots of hurt/comfort, melancholic/sad endings), I do struggle snapping out of it immediatly. In terms of rationality, I know that Richard did not die of the plague/did not leave the band/the band was not killed during a heist/what-have-you, and yet I find myself almost feeling like wrapped in cotton wool - kind of paralysed mentally for a few days, my mind still revolving about this particular fic.

I think all in all it's a question of character, how the mind reacts to certain things, how attatched one is to fiction and the admittedly fictional characterisations of real life people.

[teejaystumbles]

WIP game

tagged by @landwriter , thanks!! <3

rules: list your WIPs and describe them

Flatter the Mountain Tops - my beloved dragon AU! It started as a wild idea on the Discord friend server where dragons were trending LOL and when I started writing it it turned into something at least twice as long as originally intended (like my fics often do because I have a wild idea and run with it and then... I start to want to get things right, background, landmarks and maps in my head, possible historical or canon references, fucking medieval music and swear words, DRAGON SEX ANATOMY and... STUFF O.O - and sooner than later I am in long-fic hell. Again.) It's about finding - and accepting - love and finding the heart to accept the other's differences, also learning to accept your own faults and overcoming them without losing yourself. I've never had therapy but I'm kinda trying to treat myself here LOL. If it's no good in the eyes of a therapist, well. I write it for myself first and foremost. I have a clear outline and even chapter number already figured out, now writing the second half of it is the only thing that remains. @amielot has been a blessing with their art for my dragons and I couldn't hope for a better incentive. <3

A Friendly Heart - my Last Unicorn AU that is on ice at the moment because I'm writing the dragons. I am a bit stuck in the depth of describing detailed events in this, and while I know where it's supposed to go, I haven't figured out all the details in the middle yet. I hope to return to it once the dragons are done. :)

Go Forth - This is just a collection of ideas I am assembling at the moment. It may never be a written fic, I want to draw a lot for this, so maybe it'll only ever be a handful of illustrations, but in my mind they are connected by the following idea: Dream is stuck in the depths of the Dreaming, either self-inflicted or through some event I haven't decided on, and Hob tries to find and help him. He has to traverse the Dreaming or rather, the dreamscapes Dream is hiding in, which turn out to be fairytales, mostly. Cast in a role, he has to figure out how to carry on through the story, find Dream and hope to wake him. It doesn't work well the first times and Hob is lost in the narrative that Dream unconsciously controls. With time he begins to realize what Dream is actually looking or hoping for in these stories... I'll share a few WIP drawings with you, as a treat! :3

I could also call this one a part of it, I'll probably use it for something or other where Hob gets the princess role LOL

I'm not tagging anyone because I can't keep track of who has already done this (multiple times like me), any of my mutuals who haven't done this in a while, feel free to share some stuff about your WIPs!!

[raayllum]

Opeli and Claudia for bingo?

I love Opeli more than is probably warranted given her role/actual screentime, but I'm always a slut for "pov adjacent to the main cast but without context" / "the remaining people who are alive/around to remember the castle kids growing up" perspective so it's really no surprise that I love her. When I wrote a oneshot about her and Callum's potential bond they'd only exchanged like 3 words, and now into arc 2 they've had multiple conversations and I feel so spoiled. I also really love her dynamics with the rest of the dragang. I think someone who wholeheartedly devotes themselves to the concept of the Crown but also has to deal with the political and personal (more than she ever expected) of that reality is super interesting, and I love the way she provides easy excuses for religious worldbuilding, which is one of my faves to write.

I'm both an aroace Opeli and a post war aged up Sorpeli endgame truther though - so fanon really is the best of both worlds <3

[ Black Xs represent squares don't apply to Claudia that might otherwise look circled. ]

I feel like a lot of the reasons I adore Claudia is how opposite she is to Opeli in a lot of ways, strangely enough? (Upon reflection.) Like she grows up in the castle but clearly has very limited loyalty to the actual king and royal family (bc they're royal) because one of the first things we learn about her is that she's been lying to them. Her loyalty is first and foremost to her family/her father and watching the sliding scale of people she cares about go from friends to obstacles to enemies she's willing to enjoy (with the added bonus of she and Callum having once been technical love interests) is just... so fun? But also she makes me so sad. I don't think there's any reality where dark magic exists and she has access to it that can end happily for her, and she is still going to take her sweet time seeing just how much it's destroyed her and hitting that rock bottom to hopefully start clawing her way up.

She's a character I've written a lot of ways in various fics/divergences - an adoptive sister to Rayla, a strained but long term love interest to Callum, Aaravos' puppet, breaking free of her dad of her own accord for better and/or for worse, as a dark mage, a primal mage, etc. I've killed her and I've written her redemption arc more than once. It's also been super satisfying to see her steady decline over the seasons as the "she's a cute goofy goth girl" read she generally got in the initial fandom post-s1 felt boring and shallow (it was always deeply clear to me there was something wrong with her lmao) so I do think fandom conversation surrounding her as a character has only gotten better, more accurate, and more interesting as the show has gone on (even if sometimes people don't have enough sympathy for her perspectives and choices). That all said I do think no matter where TDP leaves her as a character in the final season, I'll always write towards and imagine an ultimately happy ending for her with the soft boi of my choice

[orcelito]

reread enough of trimax i think ive got the important things down. i only read through volume 1 of trimax, which is So much slower than i was expecting it to be (shoutout to when i first got my bootleg prints of the manga & hyperfocus skimmed the Entire manga in 7 hours), but it mustve been the level of attention i was paying to details

which was the point. the primary thing I wanted to get a feel for was wolfwood's presence & mannerisms, and also the way wolfwood and vash interact together in the early manga. im of course very familiar with their relationship, but existing in fandom spaces for so long can muddy what the actual canon relationship is in my mind. add in the fact that i havent actually read the manga in over a year (so the animes' characterizations were more present in my mind), & it's clear i was due for a reread. ITNL is a trimax fic first and foremost, after all, even if it does draw some elements from the animes.

so ! im going to start reviewing the existing written ITNL chapters. probably not reading everything entirely in depth, bc there's plenty that's not relevant to the current chapter, & my primary focus is preparing myself for writing the chapter. i dont have the time to reread the fic in full, however much i'd enjoy that, so. by the end of tomorrow, im going to review the fic enough to begin writing by thursday at the latest.

will that be enough time for me to actually finish the chapter by monday? considering it's my birthday weekend and i'll be pretty busy, who's to say? but im gonna try. and in the end, it's thankfully just 3 pretty simple scenes. a downtime chapter. Just Talking. so if i can get in the right brainstate for it, it's fully feasible for me to accomplish

that, of course, is the hardest part. writing brain is a fickle mistress, after all. but i will do my best. i really do want to have ITNL chapter 19 out by my birthday.

[aimmyarrowshigh]

what do you like/is your favorite thing about writing bucky 👁👁

Interesting question! The thing is, when it comes to writing stucky, I am first and foremost a Steve Rogers Girlie. All of my weighty, lengthy stucky fics (uh, all, you know, 3 of them that are longer than like 2,000 words) have been in Steve's headspace.

The only time that I've really delved semi-deeply into Bucky's head was for Five Things Bucky Did That Didn't Bring Steve Back (And Why Steve Came Back), I think. And that fic is very deliberately written at a pretty closed-off psychic distance -- much further away than I ever write Steve POV. And that served the story: Bucky, post-EG, especially when it comes to missing Steve, had to be intentionally closing off his emotions and the depth of his wound about Steve leaving. Otherwise, the story wouldn't work.

It would be a fundamentally different story if I'd closed in with the psychic distance and written the depth and breadth of Bucky's feelings, because then the story would have to be about *Bucky feeling those feelings* instead of Bucky *pushing away* those feelings. I wanted it to read like Bucky's mourning for Steve made him just... hollow. Rudderless. A Bucky without a Steve, you know? And that meant keeping a lot of Bucky's head and heart closed off from him as the POV character, because he would be compartmentalizing as self-protection.

He's also a man who was born in 1917 and was a WWII sniper -- even after Wakanda, even in the modern world, he's not the kind of guy who DOESN'T close himself off from his feelings to pretend that they don't exist. We literally see him do it in the stupid last ten stupid minutes of stupid Endgame, when he fake smiles and it drops as soon as neither Steve nor Sam are looking. We see him hiding from feeling his feelings in the entirety of TFATWS; it was one of the main themes of TFATWS, insofar as Bucky had a character arc or theme. Hell, Bucky is hiding his true feelings the very first time we meet him as he pretends for Steve that he's feeling okay about leaving for the War when he's terrified and was *drafted* and doesn't want to go. When he offers to let Steve move in after Sarah dies, Bucky doesn't say, "I would really love to live with you, we'd love to have you, etc." He couches it in half-jokes to hide how much he wants Steve to say yes. (And, ofc, he's a fucking closeted gay man who we meet en route to a date with a girl.)

So tl;dr, the one time I've written Bucky POV, it was really important to me not to get too close to Bucky's inner self with the actual text. I wanted it to be clear how he was feeling by what he was talking *around* and what he was doing *in spite of*.

tl;dr again, uh, sorry, this answer is got away from me. But uh, I like writing Bucky's total devotion. As much as he hides his emotions from the world and from himself, he can't hide them in his eyes or his actions, you know? He's just the most devoted little scrungly man. Literally would rather die in a burning building than leave Steve. Literally died for Steve. Literally came back to life for Steve. That's a hell of a guy.

[progmanx]

Hello, hi. First of all, I just want to say that I LOVE your Jeckole fic. It's honestly so great and everything from the dialogue to the various HCs to fill in the space left by the game makes so much sense. I was reading the comments, though, and saw that you said that you were going for a biromantic Nicole. This really struck me as an interesting choice because it really kind of clashes with my interpretation of what's presented in the game, IE complete disgust with men in all circumstances. Since everything else about the fic is so clearly well thought out, I was wondering if you have any specific reasoning for that decision?

In either case, like I said, I really love your fic, and want to thank you for writing it.

Hi! Thank you so much! <3

Mmk, so, "going for" is not really how I meant it, or intended. Yes, there was a lot of thought put into that decision to “write” Nicole as biromantic gray/something/she's seventeen she's not gonna have this shit figured out, though in all honesty that ideally shouldn't be distinguishable from any interpretation one may have in the actual text of the fic.

If it is, dear God, tell me. Because I whiffed something if you can. The fact that you were this surprised suggests that you couldn't, but, just to be safe lol

All of this is interpretative, and has no real bearing on how I'm writing Nicole, as she's still who she is first and foremost. Whatever she is to you, that's what she is. End of story.

This is basically the equivalent of flavor text (I seriously mean it; this isn't supposed to have any kind of noticeable or even actual influence on how she is written), but, since you asked, sure! :)

*inhales*

First, teenage boys are, by and large, disgusting. They don't really have hygiene figured out, or put in any effort into their appearance, and this can continue well into the 20s for many cis straight men. They smell. Boys smell. No one likes stinky people.

Second, teenage boys in 2009 also, by and large, identified as straight by a WAY wider margin than they do now. I can't stress enough how massive a difference just NOT being straight at all---even for those who don't even know they aren't---can radically change a dude’s perspective and behavior even at that age.

However, the ones who are unknowingly closeted are also unlikely to make enough noise to really be noticed at all half the time, because having any kind of crack in that brick wall of bullshit makes engaging with it absolutely revolting and horrifying.

It's just a constant stream of "this is not okay" and not having the language, nor authority, nor support, to do anything other than do your best to not make it worse. Because if you try to help without fully grasping WHAT is going on and WHY (which, you can't, because you're not high on the same bullshit as the other dudes) you WILL make it worse.

The sheer toxicity of what masculinity presented itself to be (and continues to), is probably the LEAST romantic or generally attractive thing ever for many, many people. It's hostile, aggressive, and has zero interest in acknowledging anyone's existence or feelings.

This is even WORSE with her male authority figures (Coach Colby, the counselor), who honestly really shouldn't count towards any consideration since she's a minor and they have a massive amount of power over her.

So, they don't. Just wanted to mention them here to make sure it was clear I didn't forget about them.

Anyway, if all the guys you knew were ones like Kylar (an obviously closeted rapist), Crispin (pbbbbth), Braxton, Trody, or Jeffrey---like ACTUAL Jeffrey, not just 'the nerdy anime kid', no the MASSIVE red flag stalker who THINKS he's a Nice Guy (tm) and sensitive---and AT BEST you'd get lucky with Hunter (ew) or Kyle (lmao, and also a stalker), and you didn't HAVE to date dudes, and understood that about yourself, dear God, why would you ever bother?

That being said, Nicole's general viciousness and misanthropy is rather heavily implied, imo, to be mostly reaction to her most recent move, so all of those guys hitting on her at her old school doesn't seem to be something she actively despised, since the social leverage she gains isn't presented as anything negative initially.

That's not to say Nicole did not have the capacity for all of this, she absolutely did, but I don't think she pushed it NEARLY as hard as she does now.

Anyway, the boys, at her old school, were still stinky, but with 'the popular girls' comes the guys who actually know what deodorant is. If she were constantly disgusted and revolted by the guys at her old school, I don't think she'd be THIS PISSED and not okay with moving somewhere else, since that is SO MUCH of high school social life, endlessly.

Nicole, at least how I'm reading this, is disgusted with everything about masculinity and men that she absolutely should be. There is no gray area here. I don't think she is inherently disgusted with the existence of men in general as a concept.

In the start of the first game, she honestly kind of DOES give the guys half a chance. They're just all generally terrible and do nothing to disprove any of her preconceptions since she's done this so many times and met so many people, and since boys really aren't encouraged to TRY, why would they be any different?

I'm not saying she'd jump at the first guy who wasn't a total piece of shit to her and was sincere about it (she would NOT fucking believe it wasn't part of some long play to fuck her and fuck with her head, and honestly I wouldn't either in her shoes) but rather that the idea of 'dating a guy' isn't inherently repulsive down to her bones, but rather that all of the guys she knows make the distinction, for the moment, essentially non-existent.

Now, yes, by Senior Year (so parts of the first game, and all of Re-Up), she has zero fucks left and zero patience (hence her amped up hostility from moment one compared to September 2007) since none of them, have EVER done anything to prove her wrong. And if someone did, like I said above, she wouldn't believe them anyway.

All of that said, I mean. Yeah, she probably massively prefers girls. If you could choose one or the other in that context, and you didn't give a shit about how people saw you, or what your parents would say, or any of that, who would pick dudes?

Hopefully that answered your question, and thanks for reading!

[mister13eyond]

discussing fanfiction when i am a pretentious bitch is so hard for me to do bc i feel like there's this general presumption that if you're info fanfiction you must like a lot of the Popular Trappings Of Fanfiction

but my problem is that i go looking for things Specifically related to the character or the story or the setting first and foremost and Tropey things are often at the bottom of my list

it's kind of what gets me about the whole 'people are reading ai written fic omg we're going to be replaced' thing, like

an ai can probably write a competent formulaic romance full of commonly used tropes and then plug character names in, sure

but it's never going to be, like. specific in the way that i want my fic to be. like. an ai is not going to go "i want to write 10k words about this character being traumatized because the text kind of scratches the surface of that possibility but never really Gets Into It the way I want it to" or "i want to see how these two characters with an extremely specific dynamic would play off each other in this circumstance". that's what fic is about to me. i don't really care for the Big Tropes for the most part because like... they're tropes because they're shorthand and broadly applicable. I want hyperspecific, obsesive and chewing on the source material in a way where if you changed the names and tried to make the story original or unrelated to canon it would make absolutely 0 fucking sense and it cannot be repackaged as something else?

and that's not to say that no fic that CONTAINS any major tropes is inherently NOT that. I think a trope is a good jumping off point and I have read some fucking incredible takes on common tropes because the author had a really clear vision of how the characters and world would WORK in that framework. i'm more saying like... i don't look for trope first, character second. i look for fics by character first and the common fandom tropes it may or may not use are unimportant to me. i just want to see something about THIS specific character that comes from someone else who has A Lot of thoughts about This Specific Character?

[winterlyndow]

dear winterlyn, i just want to say that i am hopelessly and utterly in love with taa/tgd and everything about it! i've left a few comments on ao3 and am truly awed that you've replied so thoughtfully and thoroughly to each one. but as a new reader who has devoured taa and tgd in one fell swoop, i had some general, non chapter-specific comments i didn't know where to place that i thought to leave here.

despite being an arya fan who reads arya-centric fics, i really am not a fan at all of stories that characterize her to a point of indulgence (e.g. queen, ridiculously skilled warrior/fighter, beautiful, all the boys in love with her, etc.). and yet you use many of these same elements while somehow still preserving the essence of her character, and i have become so entirely enchanted by your writing and all its plots and sub-plots regardless.

you truly have a gift for writing the loveliest characters and relationships. of course i love arya, the protagonist and heroine, for obvious reasons. jaime i particularly love as well. but i have never particularly liked original characters in fanfic, and yet you've somehow managed to bewitch me with the handsome man, the bear, and of course sweet little rickon. in fact those three have strangely become my favorite characters, no less. the hot-and-cold hm who i have come to begrudgingly love for all his petty jealously and capricious, chaotic energy; the bear who i simply love unrepentantly and wholeheartedly for being the sweetest and most huggable teddy bear of a trained assassin; and precocious yet shrewd rickon who i adore with all his clever, perfect quips and teeth jewelry and bone-braided hair (no he doesn't speak to the gods lol, the gods speak to HIM).

even the rat i am intrigued by in spite of my dislike, though i can't quite pin down (straight-laced in that his first loyalties seem to be to the order, but that even hm is made ill at ease by his cold af dismissal of any ties to arya is somewhat foreboding, though he's also not completely unfeeling given his seemingly genuine affection for the bear). i even had a fondness for less prominent ocs before their deaths (rip olive, staaviros, will).

out of everyone, i think the bear may be my fave. seriously, if you hurt him i will never ever forgive you.

i am also particularly intrigued by the prophecies and visions you employ. some of them seem clear enough (howland "stealing" jon from arya as a brother and the yet-unclaimed viserion swallowing ghost as metaphors for jon's parentage), but others seem to be something of a chekov's gun looming over the story that i can't help but dread (gendry's supposed eventual betrayal agh!).

and i haven't forgotten all the little mysterious sub-plots: the biro assassination, the fm and iron bank alliance, the origin of the fm deal with varys and illyrio, littlefinger and sansa, etc. i am fascinated every time you give a tiny glimpse into these other worlds, whether it is the conversation between km and the sealord or sansa in the vale.

(but seriously, wtf was going on with the biro assassination? ok i might be crazy but was km the one to put the hit on helllind because he knew mattine would trade her life and face for biro's death due to her believing the sealord's lies, which would then let the sealord marry vorena, which was the foremost deal between km and the sealord??? but then why didn't the sealord just put a hit on biro himself???)

anyway, this is by far the most i've ever written in response to any fic, and the most i've written in a long time that is not work or school-related. there are many more thoughts (and questions!) i have about taa/tgd, but i'll end this excessive ramble by expressing my love for jaqen/arya and my crushing desire that they reunite soon.

cheers! <3

I can't express to you how much this means to me. So much time and effort has gone into writing this that it's so gratifying to know someone out there appreciates what I've done and enjoys it.

As for the Biro/Sealord/KM plot, I think the Sealord wanted a few more degrees of separation between himself and Biro's death so his reputation would remain intact and he wouldn't come under suspicion. Vorena enabled the plot and was behind taking out Hellind, and she had an obstensible motive for Hellind's death (Biro being in love with Hellind) that sounds reasonable even if the real motive was the part her death would play in the ultimate plot.

Thank you so much for this message--it has really brought a smile to my face. I have *just* posted ch 60, and I implore you to remember what i've alluded to here and there--this is the "Empire Strikes Back" of my trilogy, so there may be some unpleasant darkness before we reach the ultimate conclusion in part 3. ;)

WD

[reverie-starlight]

Before I ask for a request, I know some people don’t like writing for pregnancy or birth and I didn’t see anything about it in your rules so I would like to ask you first and foremost if it’s something you’re comfortable with writing?

If not, I understand! Just thought I’d ask before making a request. Have a nice day~.

Hiii thank you so much for asking, I really appreciate it!!

I'm so sorry, but right now I don't think it'd be something I'm comfortable writing :((

this may change in the future, but for now I'll add it to my rules to make them more clear. and something else that's kinda in the same wheelhouse now that I'm on the subject: I think I'll stop accepting requests for parenting fics in general (may also change in the future since I have written one before, but for now it's a hard no)

But I hope you find someone to write your request, and feel free to request anything else from me if you'd like!! I hope you have a lovely day as well <333