#THEE HAPPIEST DAY OF LAST YEAR FOR ME

[jassy2uall]

– Heart Like A Habit 🧡 (pt. 4)

Highschool!Billie Eilish x black fem!reader

“You're the new girl—just trying to survive another school year in a place where you know no one. But then there’s her—Billie Eilish, the infamous heartbreaker and rising star who somehow has you completely hooked, whether you like it or not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Alycia still couldn't get Billie's words out of her head. I'll make it up to you. What did she even mean by that? And why did the thought of it send butterflies fluttering through Alycia's stomach?

She had just met the girl, and yet, Billie had this strange, magnetic effect on her—one she couldn't quite explain. It was maddening.

She needed to talk to Jennie. Like, immediately.

Alycia grabbed her laptop and quickly set up a video call. Jennie answered almost instantly, a wide grin spreading across her face as she greeted her best friend.

"Hey, hey! How was your first day?" Jennie asked, clearly eager for the details.

Alycia groaned dramatically, leaning back in her chair as she ran a hand through her hair. "Oh, it was... a lot. You wouldn't believe it."

She launched into the entire story—everything from the brutal dodgeball game to the strange tension with Billie.

Jennie gasped mid-crunch, nearly dropping her bag of Hot Cheetos. "What the hell?! These girls are messing with my best friend like that?"

Alycia chuckled. "I know, right? It's like they were all in some twisted competition to see who could be the biggest jerk."

Jennie snorted. "I swear, if I could, I'd book a flight right now and go down there to whoop some ass."

Alycia laughed louder, shaking her head. "First of all, you don't even have a passport... or money."

Jennie paused, frowning like she was genuinely reconsidering her life choices. "Okay, okay, maybe not the flight... but I would if I could!"

Alycia smiled. "If you could, that would make me the happiest girl in the world."

Jennie grinned. "I'll just ask my mom. You know how much she loves you."

Alycia giggled. "She does love me, doesn't she?"

"But don't change the subject, bestie," Jennie said, her eyes glinting mischievously.

Alycia sighed. She already knew what was coming.

"Who's this new girl in your life that you somehow left out a name for? Because 'blue-eyed babe' is not a name," Jennie teased.

Alycia groaned. "Her name's Billie, and—"

"Pause. Her name's what again?"

"Billie," Alycia repeated, now confused by Jennie's reaction.

Jennie sat up straighter. "And you said she has blue eyes and dark black hair?"

"...Yes?"

Jennie let out a dramatic gasp. "Oh my gosh, your new potential bae is Billie Eilish!"

Alycia blinked. The name didn't ring a bell.

Jennie stared at her, deadpan. "Oh, don't tell me—"

"Okay, I won't tell you—"

Jennie smacked her forehead. "How did you not know the Billie you met is thee Billie Eilish? The youngest rising pop star?"

Alycia frowned. "I don't know, I just didn't! And besides, no one at school mentioned it!"

"Babe. It's LA. Everyone down there knows who she is. Except you, apparently."

Alycia huffed. "Well, yeah, I just moved here, and I—"

Jennie cut her off, practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh my God. I literally played you her song 'Ocean Eyes' last year, and you loved it!"

Alycia's eyes widened. "Wait. She sang that song?"

"YES, dummy!" Jennie was full-on cackling now. "This is too sweet."

Alycia felt her stomach twist. "I can't believe I didn't know that was her. Or that I was just casually talking to a celebrity."

"Or the fact that you're in school with her and she likes you," Jennie added.

Alycia's heart skipped a beat. "She doesn't like me."

"Oh, honey," Jennie drawled, crunching on her chips. "She was flirting with you. Trust me. She likes you."

The thought sent a rush of heat through Alycia's chest, but she quickly shook it off. "I'm pretty sure she has a girlfriend, Jen."

Jennie raised an eyebrow. "If she's flirting with you, I'm pretty sure they're not exclusive. Probably just hooking up."

Alycia sighed. "That would explain the hickeys on their necks," she muttered, a little louder than intended.

Jennie almost choked on her chips. "BITCH. You don't ever tell me the good stuff!"

Alycia groaned. "I didn't want to be reminded of that, Jen!"

Jennie threw herself back dramatically, hand over her heart. "You are too precious for this world, my sweet. Too precious," she said, shaking her head.

Alycia just rolled her eyes.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'm about to get ready for bed."

"Girl, it's only ten o'clock."

"Yeah, and my mom will be home later. You know how loud she gets when she walks through the door. I really want to get a few good hours of sleep before that."

Jennie sighed. "Ugh, fine. Call me tomorrow. Love you," she said, blowing a kiss.

Alycia smiled. "Love you too." She blew one back before ending the call.

Closing her laptop, she leaned back against her pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

Billie Eilish.

How had she not known? And more importantly...

Did Billie actually like her?

The Next Day

Alycia woke up with a smile before she even realized why. Then it hit her—she was going to see Billie today.

In just a short hour.

Well... more like see her in the halls or maybe in class. Would they even talk? Probably not if Billie was with her friends. Or worse—if she was with Ava.

The thought made her smile fade real fast.

She groaned, rolling onto her side and burying her face into her pillow. Get a grip, Alycia. Just because Billie flirted yesterday didn't mean it meant anything.

And yet... she couldn't ignore the way her heart raced at the memory of Billie's smirk, the way her voice dropped when she called her mama, or how effortlessly cool she was during dodgeball.

She sighed, shaking her head as she got out of bed. It's just another school day. Act normal.

Easier said than done.

As Alycia swung her legs over the side of the bed, her phone buzzed on the dresser.

Jennie: Are you excited to see your bae? 😉

Alycia rolled her eyes, biting back a grin.

Alycia: She is NOT my bae.

Jennie: Mhm, sure. Keep telling yourself that, boo. 😏

Alycia shook her head, tossing her phone onto the bed. No way was she letting Jennie get into her head today.

...Even if Billie already was.

She stretched, yawned, and headed for the bathroom, her mind still lingering on Billie.

Get it together, Alycia, she told herself. It's just another day.

But as the warm water washed over her, she knew she was lying to herself.

Today wasn't just another day.

Because today, she was going to see Billie Eilish.

Alycia headed downstairs after a solid fifteen minutes of washing up and getting dressed.

Today's outfit was effortlessly fire—a black crop top paired with matching cargo pants, and black-and-white low-top Air Force 1s. Her long black locks were tied up in a sleek bun, with her laid edges framing her face just right. As she descended the stairs, she applied a final coat of her favorite plumping lip gloss, the glossy sheen catching the light.

She looked good. And more importantly, she felt good.

The smell of crispy bacon instantly grabbed Alycia's attention, and she hurried into the kitchen. Her mom stood by the stove in her pajamas, casually placing a fresh plate of bacon on the counter. The table was already set with eggs and grits, steam still rising from the plates.

"I knew I heard footsteps," her mom said with a knowing smile, popping a piece of bacon into her mouth.

Alycia grinned, sliding into a seat. "You know I can't resist when you make breakfast."

Her mom chuckled. "Exactly why I made extra. Figured you could use a good meal before school."

"You figured right," said Alycia, stuffing a huge amount of bacon in her mouth, making her mom laugh.

"Especially, after the crazy day I had yesterday."

"Yeah, baby about that I didn't get to hear how it was. I did not expect to come home so late last night and it was already late in the morning and you were asleep and I was beat."

"So how was it," her mom asked sipping her orange juice.

"Umm... ok," was all Alycia said, now eating her eggs and grits with her bacon.

Her mom raised an eyebrow. "Just okay? That doesn't sound very convincing."

Alycia shrugged, focusing on her food. "I mean... it was a lot. New school, new people. Some nice, some not so nice."

Her mom set her glass down, giving her a knowing look. "Let me guess... girl drama?"

Alycia sighed, poking at her eggs with her fork. "Something like that."

Her mom leaned on the counter, watching her closely. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Alycia nodded, but she wasn't sure how to explain Billie, or the weird mix of emotions that came with her. "Yeah, I know."

Her mom smiled. 'Remember, nobody can ruin your day unless you let them.'"

Alycia smiled softly. "Thanks, Mom."

"Anytime, baby," her mom said, grabbing another piece of bacon. "Now hurry up before you're late."

Alycia quickly stood up, stuffing the last of her food into her mouth before placing the plate back on the table. Grabbing her book bag, she rushed toward the door.

Her mom chuckled, shaking her head.

"See you later tonight, Mom. Love you."

"Love you too, baby. Have a great day."

Alycia gave her mom a quick wave as she stepped out the door, her bag slung over her shoulder. The cool air hit her face as she made her way down the steps and toward the car, already feeling the pressure of the day ahead. She wasn't sure what to expect—if Billie would even talk to her today, or if her friends would make the day a little more difficult.

But, deep down, there was a small flicker of excitement. The thought of seeing Billie again, even if only in passing, brought a rush of warmth. Alycia shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away.

"Focus, Alycia. It's just another day," she muttered to herself, getting into the car and starting the engine.

She drove off, the city's streets flashing by, her mind a mix of nervous anticipation and uncertainty about what was to come.

End of pt. 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[beyoncesfiancee]

gasppp thanks for the tag @awildwickedslip!!! it didn't notify me of the mention ;( you are shadowbanned frrrrrr

1. How many works on AO3?

39 bebs

2. Total word count on AO3?

195,257. after 11 years... that's over 17,000 words a year!!! over half of which have been in the last 12 months!!!!

3. Top five fics by kudos?

bored (at a london music) - sherlock bbc fin de siècle au (2016)

down, girl - original work f/f pwp (2016)

miscellaneous tumblr ficlets by killmewithlesbians - that's my steven universe sideblog name lol (2016)

make thy life shudder in thee, and burn afresh - carmilla !!! (2015)

the loveliest vision in this dark world - sappho/anactoria, the very first fic i posted to ao3 (2014)

these all probably only have so many kudos because they have been published the longest. the youngest is eight years! you have to get all the way down to #12 ranked by kudos before you get to something i wrote in the last 12 months. I still stand by bored, down girl, and make thy life shudder in thee though lol

4. What fandoms do you primarily write for?

these days it's locked tomb, but im not picky luv... in my will-probably-actually-write-them-at-some-point wips (not just one-sentence jotted ideas) currently I have TLT, steven universe, xena, interview with the vampire, DS9 (😉), romy and michelle's high school reunion, and original fiction. im just writing so much locked tomb because 1) I can only write so many words in any one month and my backlog of wake/pyrrha/g1deon ideas still has items in it and 2) the fandom is so fun and active that it makes it easy to want to write things for people. I LOVE BEING IN A LIVING FANDOM AGAIN!!!!!

5. Do you respond to comments?

always, every single one. i dont have comment-responding social anxiety whatsoever and i want to encourage more comments lol so i always respond very nicely and with a comparable intensity to the level of effort/analysis the commenter gave ^_^ the only exception is if someone is going through a multi-chapter fic and commenting on every chapter, I won't respond to every chapter's comment so I don't inflate my stats (unless they are truly stupendous close reads like @amarocit's award-winning comments that give me brilliant unheard-of insights into my own text) but will leave them an enormously long gushing reply on the last chapter instead hahaha

6. Angstiest ending?

i guess it depends on how you define angsty... is it angstier to have a really juicy bloobloobloo comfort ending of a hurt/comfort or is ending with the hurt part of a hurt/no comfort angstier... actually wait the answer is obvious lol. #1 with a bullet is This great pleasure of ours is bursting in light (tlt)!!! ohhhhh it hurts lol

7. Fic with the happiest ending?

um im not really... into those? ^_^ the purest fluff happy ending is off the leash (tlt silly pwp), but the happiest "real" happy ending (i.e., one they had to work for) is probably many traces (janelle monáe's dirty computer fic) or maybe medice, cura te ipsum (johnlock).

8. Do you get hate?

not even a little bit. nobody gives enough of a fuck about my work lol. i was slightly apprehensive about this great pleasure because of how gnarly it is but maybe in TLT fandom everyone is good about reading tags and being grownups...

9. Do you write smut?

10. Do you write crossovers?

no i find them corny. i dont read em either (ditto). love a good fusion tho

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

see #8. no one gives a fuckkkkk lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

YESSSS IM OBSESSED!!!! MY SAPPHO/ANACTORIA FIC WAS TRANSLATED INTO RUSSIAN 😍😍😍❤️‍🔥

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

i used to cowrite a lot in my pre-ao3 life, primarily through rp lol. @coldestcaress gang gang. nothing in my current iteration tho

14. All time favorite ship?

i think i have to be real and say pearlrose (steven universe). my heart doesn't palpitate for it the way it used to but it will never not be the GOAT. honorable mentions: ship I will always click on a fic of, irene/mary (sherlock bbc). ship i like the highest percentage of ao3 fics of, harrow/ianthe (tlt). ship that has apparently made me insane, wake/pyrrha/g1deon (tlt) (i'm not listing it as all-time fave because the sleeper cell has only been activated 1 year so i cant speak to its psychic longevity).

15. WiPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i dont want to curse myself by mentioning either steven universe roller derby AU or (sob) dalí/lacan but each of them was started 8-10 years ago and i set it as a specific goal to finish both of those by new year's eve 2024 and i didn't do it and now it's four months later so. sob. but i only have like 6-7k to write in each so maybe i just need to shackle myself to the fucking coalface and get to work

16. Writing strengths?

grime and slime and pussy juice and the way sex and desire are a little bit gross, erotic realism, characterizations (of preexisting characters, see below), emotional realities. idk what else

17. Writing weaknesses?

diversifying my prose style for different stories & contexts, pacing, earning the emotional beats (I do my outline and then want to bop from one point to the next without building enough connective tissue), conversely doing too MUCH connective tissue and slowing the pace because I lack confidence in the reader, relying on the same few physical actions/beats to telegraph internal states (seriously if you skim my whole oeuvre in one sitting it's embarrassing). the "earning the emotional beats"/pacing one is something really plaguing me atm so now im ruminating on it more. i used to only be able to write 2-4k stories but now that ive unlocked an ability to write longer stories, i feel like i cant re-access that 2-4k pacing brain that allows me to touch intense emotional beats (e.g. one of my best works zombie) without zooming too far in on one emotional moment, then too-lightly zooming out and skipping from it to the next one without spending an equivalent time on the connective tissue

weaknesses that are original work-specific: building characters from nothing, putting them in a setting and a world that makes sense for who they are, building out that world, describing their appearances & outfits

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

so chic and funnnnnn especially for a language i already speak so i dont have to machine translate it lol

19. First fandom you wrote for?

one piece 😳 shout out to my one piece yaoi 100 drabble-writing community on livejournal RIP

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

for experimentalism/ambition, reinterpretation of canon, character voiceyness, humor, tragedy, dramatic irony, pacing, and icky sticky sex writing, the gold medal goes to You think love is stainless and pure (crazy ex-girlfriend). paula ftw (ughhh swim good [tlt] is really fucking good too though)

i taggue @jeejyboard @onlybynightandonlybysea @theriverbeyond @vulgarweed and my beloved @havingbeenbreathedout! tag 5 babes

[annaskareninas]

Chapter 8 out now! | Or read from beginning

Chapter summary: With no choices remaining, Feyre unhappily submits to marriage with Rhysand, accompanying him north to his ancestral home.

Snippet below cut!

He looked up at me, lifting my hand a little in his, his thumb warm against my bare skin. “With this ring I thee wed,” he murmured, breath ghosting over the back of my hand. “With my body I thee worship.” A strange prickling flush spread through me. “And with all my worldly goods I thee endow: in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” He stepped back, lowering my hand, and the unnatural tension that had been spooling between us shattered. “Amen.”

“Amen,” the minister muttered. He then began to pray, again, but the words faded to a background buzz. I felt hot all over, dizzy and confused; the ring was a heavy weight on my finger, yet inside me, something jumped, liquidy and light. 

The minister joined our hands for a final time. “Those whom God hath joined let no man put asunder,” he intoned, and I felt a flash of guilt at the annulment that would be coming his way in a year’s time. “I now pronounce thee man and wife, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost; amen!” 

Rhysand turned me towards the congregation, joined hands raised high. A smile spread across his face, so wide and natural if I hadn’t known better I’d have been utterly convinced it was genuine. Cheers rang out through the church, petals fluttering from hands. 

“Smile, Feyre darling,” Rhysand muttered through his teeth. “This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life – act like it.” 

So, the normal Rhysand was back. That strange, husky intimacy that had overtaken us as he had slipped the ring on my finger…had that been nothing more than my imagination?

I plastered a fake grin onto my face, trying to mimic the way Ianthe had smiled so beatifically, fluttering her lashes and dimpling her cheeks, and it seemed to work: certainly, no-one looked the slightest bit concerned or shocked as we made our way back down the aisle as…

As man and wife. 

Husband. He was my husband. 

And just like that, Feyre Archeron died. She bled out on those smooth tiled floors, back snapping under the weight of a hundred nobles’ eyes, and breathed her last, jerking and fitting, at the bishop’s feet. 

Leaving the church, climbing into the carriage that would bear me and my husband away to our marital bed and home and life…I was reborn Duchess Feyre Velaris. 

[raysources]

𝐈𝐍 & 𝐎𝐔𝐓  𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒     —     a collection of one - liners taken from the 1997 film , in & out.   slightly edited for clarity.   change pronouns as necessary.   happy pride! 🏳️‍🌈

was he really cute?

he was an iguana.

nice try, you moron. you loser, get out of here.

you look exquisite.

isn't she a knockout?

it's going to be the happiest day of my life.

we spent the whole year reciting romeo and juliet to each other.

he looks like a troll doll.

basically, to me, awards are meaningless.

(i love you.) wait. do you love me as a friend, or in another way?

i mean, he killed people.

— and he's gay.

i'm not gay!

i am outraged! i may sue!

you're my son, and i'll always love you.

we're getting married!

do you have a boyfriend?

shall i compare thee to a summer's gay?

did you wanna stick a grenade in your mouth?

you're kinda prissy.

of course he thinks you're gay!

he likes dick, [ name ] !

no more interviews.

leave me alone, you smut peddler!

i'll kill you.

you are pure television.

lay some adult video on me.

i thought you were a stud. i guess i thought wrong.

it's all ancient history.

do i look like a homosexual?

friends don't threaten.

i have a friend who's catholic, and he's busy.

who's gay now, huh?

i'm under a lot of pressure.

i'm very fragile!

i'm not okay. i've never been so not okay in my entire life.

i want my life back!

i haven't changed! one little word, and everybody changes. i'm still the same person. why doesn't anyone believe me?

i am not a sound byte!

why am i talking to you?

[name], i'm gay.

i'm gay. i came out.

one day, i just snapped. i got tired of switching pronouns, and lowering my voice.

i couldn't take lying to the people that i love.

but you're so tall.

everyone surprised me, once i let them.

sometimes the worst thing you think can happen turns out to be the best thing.

you kissed me!

(you kissed me!) you noticed!

people don't kiss here?

this is my ... [ name ] . my friend, [ name ] .

i hope you come to the wedding!

excuse me, are we a little teapot?

you hate this, don't you?

"dance", the demon whispers.

everyone else is dancing.

you're everything i've ever dreamed of.

do you have an attorney?

my mom says it won't last.

i'm gay.

i'm horrible, and you have every right to hate me.

you should hate me. i want you to.

i'm scum, i'm garbage, i'm vermin.

thank god my parents are dead, this would've killed them!

are you really gay?

i loved you, and believed you ...

i thought you were the most wonderful man who ever lived.

i'm so proud of you. congratulations!

i just destroyed [ name ] 's life!

i'll give you your headline.

i hated the bridges of madison county.

are you still gay?

you're that guy. what are you doing here?

i had a bad day ... a very, very bad day.

i hate men.

i love you. you're nice.

will you sleep with me?

you married? seeing someone? i don't care!

is everybody gay?!

hi, will you marry me?

i need a heterosexual, code red!

i swore i'd become someone else!

you were so beautiful. you still are. you always were.

[ name ] is lucky to have you.

excuse me, i'm gay!

exactly my point, a young life corrupted.

oh my god, i'm gay!

i'm gay. i'm a homo. i like guys.

i still do it with chicks every chance i get, and i'm totally good at it ... but i hate it, and i'm gay.

uh oh, i must be gay!

i'm ... i'm a lesbian!

[ name ] has perfect taste. so do i, so ... i'm gay!

it's a wedding. i want everything to be perfect.

i'm not filming this.

there are some things more important than show biz.

[myheadsgonenumb]

Fanfic Interview

I'm stealing this from @sliebman10 and encourage all the other fic writers to steal it too.

How many works do you have on AO3?

18 - though one of them is currently hidden

What's your total AO3 word count?

3,039,123

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

The Wolf's Tail (currently not available)

It Wouldn't Be An Adventure Without You

Dark Things Are To Be Loved in Secret

A Grim Tale

Bite and Prejudice

... So all my Harry Potter fics, basically

Do you respond to comments?

I used to, but I've switched comments off on all my fics now.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I have a one shot for Angel the Series called Twenty Years which is quite angsty throughout or a Harry Potter one shot called Letters to No One that ends on a heartbreaking note.

For longer fics, season 3 of my AtS rewrites ends in nothing but badness and for HP I guess Nearer, My God, To Thee, because it's a Titanic wolfstar rewrite and they're both dead at the end of it.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

A lot of my works tend to be part of a series, so they don't really end so much as reach a point where the story stops being told in one fic and then gets picked up again in the next. I think my fic with the simplest most traditional happy ending is Bite and Prejudice - as that's just Pride and Prejudice and wolfstar and has the Pride and Prejudice ending.

Do you write crossovers?

So far only once (not including Buffy/Angel which are the same universe) and that was still within the Whedonverse. One Night In A Bar On Deadwood is a Buffy/Angel/Firefly crossover one shot where Spike meets River in a bar, where the crew are making a delivery.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Never anything personal to me, but I have had angry comments from people spontaneously bashing characters (who had done nothing to deserve it within the fic - just from their own preconceptions), angry comments from people who are very upset that there is some form of conflict in a fic, as they don't seem to like there being story in their stories, and one incredibly rude James stan who must have read over 150 000 words of The Wolf's Tail (in one sitting based on the time stamps) who wrote comment after comment about how I was writing my fic wrong, and how much I clearly hated James (I don't - canon James is a non-entity and I have no opinion on him and I am very fond of my James) and basically just spammed my inbox with how much they didn't like my fic because it didn't match their headcanons for the entirety of the day.

Do you write smut?

Not if I can avoid it. I prefer fade to black. If I have to write a sex scene I prefer to focus on the emotion of what is happening than the mechanics so it's still not that smutty.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes - Maybeonedayshewillbefree translated It Wouldn't Be an Adventure Without You into Chinese and Red_Yennifer translated Letters to No One into Russian. I'm still so amazed, flattered and touched that anyone liked my writing well enough to spend their time translating my work so more people can enjoy it.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No - I don't play well with others

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Mulder and Scully (I think I would die if David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson got together in real life!) But I am satisfied with what we get of them in the X Files and so have never felt any need to write about them.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I have an unpublished WIP called "I Know What You Did Last Autumn" which is a sort of horror/ghost story that starts with Snape being killed in The Prank and Sirius covering it up. I'm not sure I'll ever get around to finishing it because I have so much other HP stuff to write that I expect I will be exhausted with HP by the time I have time to write it.

Over on Buffy I have Hunger Longing Jealousy and Guilt which is a canon divergent fic where - instead of the Thanksgiving episode we get in canon - Angel gets captured by the Initiative and the scoobies and Doyle/Cordy have to team up to save him. I'd love to finish it but I won't until I drift back from the HP fandom to the Buffy one... and if I do that then I won't finish all my planned wolfstar fics.

What are your writing strengths?

I don't overthink it. What you read on Ao3 is pretty much the first draft (editing is mostly correcting typos) - I write quickly and fluently and just sort of let the words appear. I think that comes from having plotted quite extensively/ having a good idea of where I want the story to go.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Making things properly sad. I can make myself cry when I write it but when I read it back it just doesn't hit. Scary and sad - I can't do them very well.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I've used other languages - especially in It Wouldn't Be An Adventure Without You, where wolfstar travel across Europe. Usually I only use other languages when the protagonist doesn't understand what is being said, because then it doesn't matter if the reader understands it or not either. If I want the reader to know what is being said in a foreign language then I write in English but put it in italics.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I did consider writing a Stranger Things fic over the summer - it would have centred my beloved Steve Harrington... but I don't think I will ever write it and don't feel any pressing need to dabble in Stranger Things at the moment (this may change if Steve does not survive s5)

What's your favourite fic you've written?

I can't pick one.

Though I did just finish re-reading Dark Things Are To Be Loved in Secret and really enjoyed it.

[asecretvice]

Hey. I just really want to thank you for “And This, Your Living Kiss”. I’m guessing you may be a bit tired hearing us talk about it, what, 4, 5 years after you published it? I just need to express some gratitude. Your poem “Perfect” was probably the first poem ever to make cry, and I still read it occasionally when I’m down. It’s honestly probably my favorite poem ever. For me it captures this delicate, still very anchored kind of happiness that just hits so deep. Kind of like the opposite of melancholia. I hope you get what I’m saying and that I’m not just talking out of my ass, and if I am, I was hoping you’d share some of your thoughts about this poem?

Also, this story is truly my favorite story ever. Has been for a very long time. A question I have for you is, is there any place where we can read more of your poetry? And if not, I was also wondering if you’d be willing to share with us some of your favorite poets/poems?

Firstly, thank you for your patience; sometimes it takes me a while to get to asks.

But mostly, thank you so much for these kind words. Do not ever doubt yourself when taking the time to extend your positivity to others; I—and I daresay the vast majority of people—do not get tired of receiving these small kindnesses. It’s a reminder that life can be full of connection, a reminder that when I send a little bit of my heart out into our raging, grief-filled world, there are those who accept and understand and, hopefully, keep passing that love forward. And thusly we make the world a better place. So please receive my gratitude for reaching out.

That you love “Perfection” means so much to me. It was the first piece of the fic I wrote, you know, and pretty much became the basis for who Dean is in the fic thereafter. I don’t feel you’re talking out of your ass at all. Dean is such a complex character, and I think that’s why so many of us relate to him; we see our own complexity and contradictions reflected back at us through him. There is of course happiness there among the rest—a boy/man who is at his happiest when with his family (blood or no). Underneath it all is that deep thread of love we (and Cas!) admire and strive toward within ourselves.

Unfortunately I don’t have poetry published anywhere else. Maybe someday.

Several of my fav poets/poems appear in the fic already, though they’re among many others. However because I’ve been thinking about her lately, I hope you’ll indulge me if I talk about Elizabeth Barrett Browning and her masterpiece Sonnets from the Portuguese.

In the modern day EBB’s words most often show up in the guise of “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.” It sounds a bit hokey, doesn’t it? I know I always thought so; especially to my teenage ear it was sickly sweet if not downright simpering. Spoiler: I was wrong. Context changes everything.

Do you believe that some books or stories come into your life at just the right time? Fast forward to when I’m 18 or 19. I’m in a town I’ve never been to before, visiting people I barely know. My host needs to work and offers to drop me off in the town center to explore. I agree because the weather’s fair and I’m desperate for a break from polite company, as it were. Happily it’s a pleasant area, full of green and not far from a large canal. After wandering along its edge for a while I aim back toward the local stores and window-shop up and down the streets. At last I stumble upon a used bookstore right next to a gelateria! Well you couldn’t have put two things together that more matched my taste if you tried. Naturally, I resolve to find a book and then go next door for some gelato and spend my time enjoying them both.

The bookstore is in an older building, for sure, with hardwood floors and the type of wainscoting that make me think it’s from the early 20th century at least. It’s split into multiple rooms and connected by open doorways; I wonder if it used to be a home. Many, though not all of the bookshelves are built into the walls and painted a pleasant white, stuffed to the gills with books in every color. The only other soul in the building is the man behind the front counter, and aside from a swift exchange of polite smiles I am left alone. I start by going to the left and poking around the shop and its little book-filled rooms counterclockwise, determined to choose at least one thing before I leave. What type, what genre? What length, what mood? I don’t know, but am sure I’ll know it when I see it. I’m free to choose whatever I like, you understand, because rarely had an English teacher in my past convinced me I couldn’t teach myself better, and I’d resolved never to take a class in the English department in college if I could help it (and for better or worse, I never did).

I take my time twisting in and out of the treasure-filled corners, no rush and no fuss. Yet no book sings to me. At length I near the back of the shop; on the far side beneath a window is a short, two-shelf bookcase. With waning hope I crouch in front of the shelf and begin reading spines. Aha! It’s filled with poetry. Perhaps there is some hope after all…then there it is: Sonnets from the Portuguese. Definitely faux-fancy binding, but still pretty. It looks like this:

I flip through, and every sonnet is accompanied by a different piece of silhouette art. It’s lovely, and it sings to me. A small pencil mark on the inside indicates it only costs a couple bucks, so I rummage in my wallet, stop by the front desk, and leave the store with the book clutched in my hands. With the rest of my cash I go to the gelateria next door and pick a couple of unusual flavors and again, alone, I choose a rickety metal table outside and sit with nothing but birds and sunshine for company. I skip the introduction and open the book immediately to the first sonnet:

I thought once how Theocritus had sung Of the sweet years, the dear and wished for years, Who each one in a gracious hand appears To bear a gift for mortals, old or young: And, as I mused it in his antique tongue, I saw, in gradual vision through my tears, The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years, Those of my own life, who by turns had flung A shadow across me.  Straightway I was ’ware, So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair, And a voice said in mastery while I strove, . . 'Guess now who holds thee?'—'Death,' I said, But, there, The silver answer rang . . 'Not Death, but Love.'

What do you glean from the poem? It is slow and sad, a bright mythologized ideal set against a woman sunk deep in dark grief, a darkness that swiftly shifts into horror as a Shape appears behind her, physically pulls her from her weeping, and demands a response. She is so sure that her own death has at last come upon her, except what’s appeared…is love? Love, of all things? Love?

This is not at all what I am expecting to read. I fill up with another spoonful of gelato and eagerly turn the page.

And turn, and turn—Reader, I’m hooked. I’m strapped into a rollercoaster and freefalling down the first slope, on a wild ride built by a woman who’s been chronically ill since childhood, who’s lived through the death of her mother and beloved brother, whose father keeps her in his house and firmly under his thumb even long into her thirties, who still manages to write and get published and yet still lives lonely in her dark room…Sonnets from the Portuguese is an epic journey via the most astonishing set of 44 sonnets about how love completely changed her life, sonnets which her husband later touted to be the best in English since Shakespeare (and I agree). If you haven’t read the sonnets I encourage you to do so before reading on, link here, but if you’d rather I walk you through…

Even reading them again now I am in awe. How baldly and boldly she talks about how she and Robert, because of course it’s about her famous courtship with Robert Browning, are not meant to be. Not just her circumstances at home, not just her poor health, not just the fact that she thinks herself so below him and his worth, but also her grief. The darkness that lives in her! So many lines from these poems are woven into the tapestry of my life, like from sonnet V: Behold and see / What a great heap of grief lay hid in me. She warns that it could ruin him. Stand further off then! go! it ends.

And yet the next one (VI) begins: Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand / Henceforward in thy shadow. It is too late. She’s already been changed. The world and her perception of it are already shifting. Read how the beginning of VII illustrates this:

The face of all the world is changed, I think, Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink, Was caught up into love, and taught the whole Of life in a new rhythm.  The cup of dole God gave for baptism, I am fain to drink, And praise its sweetness, Sweet, with thee anear.

She was sinking into oblivion, death her companion, until he stood between them and she was caught up into love, no longer to go through her days sitting simple and still in her room, content to wallow in the sorrow she’d been given. Yet…that still doesn’t matter, because how can she reciprocate? And, crucially, does it make her a bad person that she can’t?

am I cold, Ungrateful, that for these most manifold High gifts, I render nothing back at all? Not so; not cold,—but very poor instead. (VIII)

Have you ever been there? Found yourself wondering if you’re even capable of love and kindness toward others given all you’ve been through, and how horrible it feels to think that ability’s been stolen from you? Is what little you can eke out even worth anything in comparison? Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass. (IX)

But she continues turning the idea of love over in her mind. Could it be that love is fully worthy, no matter where it comes from? There’s nothing low / In love, she reasons, when love the lowest (X). Still it does not seem that she herself could be worthy—and if this is worthy love, anyway, would she have even known how to do it if she’d not first been shown by him?

And thus, I cannot speak Of love even, as a good thing of my own: Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak, And placed it by thee on a golden throne,— And that I love (O soul, we must be meek!) Is by thee only, whom I love alone. (XII)

It seems that Robert persists in his own love, because then an earnest plea: that he love her for love’s sake, because people change in time. She herself is changing now because of him! Do not even love her because he loves taking care of and comforting her, because his love could lessen her need for that comfort! (XIV)

Regardless she is not without feeling, as sad and calm as she outwardly seems. She’s just not like him. But…could his love and his will be strong enough to overcome all these obstacles? Why, conquering / May prove as lordly and complete a thing / In lifting upward, as in crushing low! With such success, she says, I at last record, / Here ends my strife. (XVI)

But of course, nothing can be quite so simple. Her first question is how she can be useful to him. This does not feel like a full partnership:

How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use? A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fine Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse? A shade, in which to sing—of palm or pine? A grave, on which to rest from singing?  Choose. (XVII)

That theme of death, too, is still ever-present. Even as the next couple of sonnets talk about how they’ve exchanged locks of hair she speaks of it. In XX a sea-change is further revealed, however, when she compares her life before Robert to the one after knowing him, how link by link, [I] Went counting all my chains but now, in contrast to VII’s cup of dole, she drinks from life’s great cup of wonder! She begs him to keep saying that he loves her (XXI), continuing the theme that his love will teach her, lift her, allay her many fears. But the next again ends with the death-hour rounding it.

Robert’s response? That her death would harm him. She admits to marveling at this revelation. If it is to be believed,

Then my soul, instead Of dreams of death, resumes life’s lower range. Then, love me, Love! look on me—breathe on me! As brighter ladies do not count it strange, For love, to give up acres and degree, I yield the grave for thy sake, and exchange My near sweet view of heaven, for earth with thee! (XXIII)

So first we learn that it is Love, not Death that has grabbed her; then we know that she feels Robert’s soul has slipped between her and the brink of death and thus she begins to question her constant sorrow; she is changing by his love; she will stop worrying about her worthiness and be of use to him and bask in what love he is willing to give her; but only now, finally, does she give up death itself in order to live her life. She is choosing to live!

The next few sonnets double down on this, about how all her hope had become despair, about how for so long she only had visions for company, and didn’t know they were mere shades in comparison to a reality of actually living, how Love, as strong as Death, retrieves as well. Also important? His saving kiss (XXVII).

We’ve come far, but progress isn’t an even trajectory. The rollercoaster dips again: now that she wishes to live, she wishes to live in his presence. She is both touch-starved and starved for company. Because their letters—one of, if not the most famous set of love letters in the English language—are to her all dead paper, mute and white! She speaks of how they fixed a day in spring / To come and touch my hand…a simple thing, / Yet I wept for it! (XXVIII) So we got the first mention in the last sonnet of his kissing her, and now a memory of when he first touched her hand. She goes on to write about how thinking of him is no longer enough; she needs to be near him. She then wonders, when he is gone, if she has embellished his feelings for her. Can you blame her? I certainly can’t. Her dark thoughts are now manifesting in these doubts about her perception, rather than her abilities.

But upon his next visit, she admits, I erred / In that last doubt! (XXXI). His presences reassures that all is real, not dream. And while she has always found it unlikely that their bond could have formed so fast (Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe, XXXII), now that she knows him she knows it was wrong to think that of him. She then brings up her childhood and draws parallels between the bright happy love she felt then with the love she feels now…even though, given the life she’s lived, the love she feels really can’t be the same. Her thoughts are no longer that of a child’s, which can be lightly turned aside, but for him she can and will turn from her dark, lonely thoughts when called.

This all decided, that their love is deep and true and as real as the loves she used to feel, and that she wants to be with him, an important question remains: If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange / And be all to me? Simply reading the poems and knowing their time period (Victorian) it could be enough to assume that it’s a regular leaving of your childhood home to create your own. But remember what I said at the beginning? The control her father exerts over her? She knows he would never approve. Hell, it was difficult enough for her siblings to make lives for themselves within his shadow. Going with Robert would mean truly leaving everything. She knows it won’t be easy: For grief indeed is love and grief beside (XXXV).

This great fear invites more doubt. She admits she has grown stronger and more confident, but that doesn’t make her troubles disappear. She knows she does their love a disservice in so doubting and in so fearing, but she can’t help it. But then…she returns to the physical, to his presence. In XXXVIII she speaks of their first three kisses: the first on her hand, the second for her forehead, but half-landed on her hair, and the third upon my lips was folded down / In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed / I have been proud and said, “My love, my own.”

She goes on in the next sonnets to say how grateful she is that he truly sees her and knows her beyond all the layers of sorrow and sickness she labors under. It should also be noted that, uncommonly for their time, he at 33 or so was courting her at 39/40. And so she is grateful, too, that he thinks it soon when others cry “Too late.” (XL). She then thanks all who had ever loved or listened, but again thanks Robert for listening to her even when it was difficult. She doubles down, now, on her decision to live:

I seek no copy now of life’s first half: Leave here the pages with long musing curled, And write me new my future’s epigraph, New angel mine, unhoped for in the world! (XLII)

And then—only now, as the rollercoaster shoots us upward and onward in joy and hope for a good, loving future—does she begin sonnet XLIII with How do I love thee? She asks this, not as some young girl with no life experience about a boy she’s seen across the room (I mean, how else was I supposed to interpret it, given how it’s used in the modern age?). She asks this as a woman full four decades into her life, a life full of chronic illness, an authoritarian home, and familial grief. She asks this after months of courtship during which she fought for every inch of belief, and hope, and joy. Where she at last came to know her own strength of heart and of will. Because she does leave her home, dear Reader. She elopes with Robert Browning, gets married in France, and lives out the rest of her life in Italy, where death finally catches up to her at 55. Keep all this in mind, as you read the sonnet in full:

How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday’s Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

There is one more sonnet, where she brings back flowers, a motif I didn’t spend time on in this post, to talk about how their souls are intertwined down to their roots. I bring it up now not just because flowers end this glorious cycle of forty-four poems, but because I think of her grave.

A year or two after I fell in love with these poems I was lucky enough to be in Italy myself. Some friends and I were walking around Florence and I insisted we had to find the English cemetery. I remember it as being this island of a hill in the middle of some busy streets, all fenced in with a little building at the entrance. When we scurried across the street and inside, there was a nun there who greeted us warmly. I told her I was looking for Elizabeth Barrett Browning and she lit up. She motioned for us to follow as she told me that they do their best to take care of her grave, and have always done so (I don’t know if she means just those who work there or Italians in general, as EBB was loved by Florence in her time). But, she said, they did not look kindly upon Robert, because he spent all this money on a beautiful tomb but he never, ever came to visit. She said this with the authority of someone who had witnessed it herself, though of course that was impossible. This was clearly a story deemed important enough—or perhaps simply so full of strong feeling—to stand the test of time.

The tomb is indeed beautiful. The pictures when I did a quick lookup on the internet do not do it justice; forgive me for not having the energy now to dig up where I’ve saved the old files of the pictures I took myself. At the time it was absolutely surrounded by tall, enormous roses, deep red in color. After I had my fill the nun was kind enough to take us on a tour of the rest of the cemetery, which was lovely. But I’ve never been able to shake the memory of that story, the one where the nuns lived and died resentful of an absent Robert.

It wasn’t until about a year and a half ago, when I read Fiona Sampson’s recent biography Two-Way Mirror: The Life of Elizabeth Barrett Browning that it finally made sense. Robert often avoided grief in this way, it seems, afraid to travel back to England when family members were ailing until it was too late. Whether you agree with his actions or not, his absence we can at least hope is from his great love turned to great grief, rather than a lack of feeling on his part. He himself died in Venice; their only child died in Italy also. Robert is, however, still separated from Elizabeth in death: he is buried in Poet’s Corner, Westminster Abbey, London.

If you’re hoping for a neat bow on the end of this post, there isn’t. I think of her often not just because I love her poetry but, I suppose, because each year is slowly, inexorably bringing me closer to the age she was when she decided she would live her life again, and though I haven’t found a soul-shaking love like she has, I am trying, trying, trying to live, too.

[isiaiowin]

Tagged by @cheeseplants

How many works do you have on ao3? 11

What's your total ao3 word count? It's 69.589 if you include the BOOB OMENS crack fic, my own works are 66.934

What fandoms do you write for? Only Good Omens

Top five fics by kudos:

Saucy Saucers:

After a few days inside the bedroom, Aziraphale gets peckish. Then finds out a certain demon has been perverting his porcelain.

As I place this crown upon thee...:

Crowley meets up with Aziraphale at the crowning of Napoleon Bonaparte. It inspires him to make a grand gesture of his own.

Marshmallow Cat:

Aziraphale finds a Miaowing box on the doorstep of the cottage.

Happy Holidays Furfur:

Furfur finds a strange box on his desk. Short fluffy holiday fic.

Leave me broken on the leather, bring me home on satin sheets:

Ferdinand Fur, a top-tier investment banker, had asked Dominatrix Shax Stork to set up a special scenario. Nervous yet excited at work, he awaited the moment she would kidnap him and break him apart in her dungeon. Trusting her completely; his Mistress, his oxygen, his life, to give him the relief he so desperately craved.

Shax had been initially surprised by this request but had quickly warmed to the idea and couldn’t wait to give him what he needed. She enjoyed playing with him immensely, loved indulging herself with his body, loved him; her slave, her heart. Wrapped in the mantle of decades of experience, she would take him over the edge, into a free fall of emotions, just so she could catch him safely at the bottom and put him back together with care.

Do you respond to comments? Yes always, they really make my day!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hmm my Stag and the Scale longfic that only needs the last half of the last chapter is currently angsty.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? It must be Infernal Tango Shax and Furfur dancing back to the party together melts my heart.

Do you get hate on fics? I was hit by bots, but that is fixed now.

Do you write smut? I do! Never thought I would but now I'm even working on a dopplebanginging fic and oof... I really enjoyed writing the BDSM AU with dominatrix Shax and Furfur, just pure love in an unconventional way.

Craziest crossover: can it be collab? It must be the crack fic we wrote for the modcast over at @goodomensafterdark

Have you ever had a fic stolen? I hope not, do not think so I'm a way to small writer.

Have you ever had a fic translated? No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, crack fics and birthday collabs and have some more (serious) fics planned for the future.

All time favorite ship? Shax/Furfur otherwise known as Shafur. I love writing them, they have my heart and soul. It's a rare pair so it doesn't get the 'clicks' but I don't care I'll keep writing the carmine empress together with her emerald stag.

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

Hmm let me see, a songfic with Crowley needing to leave before he does something that would disturb his friendship with Aziraphale. Aziraphale makes it very hard for him not to kiss him right there and then.

What are your writing strengths? Love? Pure love? I can't make it not 'sweet' It has to be LOVE.

What are your writing weaknesses? As English is not my native language, I had to learn how to properly punctuate and write in UK English. I sometimes lack the vocabulary but it is fun to see the growth over the last few months.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? Why not? If you add a translation in character so everyone can understand it.

First fandom you wrote in? Good Omens. Only started with a micro fic last November, then really started writing and posting since the beginning of March this year.

Favorite fic you've written? Leave me broken on the leather, bring me home on satin sheets. Written for the kink event in GOAD, this fic is very close to my heart. I wanted to show the Domme side of a BDSM relationship and Shax was perfect for it. Plus the dynamic between Furfur and Shax really worked for this idea (in my headcanon)

I tag: @aidaran-alha @yes-its-unholy @theonewiththeshippinggoogles @mightyshax

[libidomechanica]

His delight occasionally this: hath looks taught this still pursues

At sixteen she washen clear the     shepherd. Moments her backache after due search, a blushing     means a few grave the first

the moon-tints of moan and my breaks     passioned brought thee any of his virtue dignity,     the mountain when spoke not,

though heroic salamander,     we were blood be then Iphigene I claim. That follows bare     heaven and water. I

thanks one more, still resign’d. Like wealthy,     with our heroines of keen Indian friends—as thus     we meet: yea, I should be

doubly name. But since I am,     and then in rhymers incense. Last night; today is as a     bittour bumps with insomnia,

perfume. If it cometh     up from these confined to the queen and claspt with his name, though     the bridled, and the tortured

ever crimes away twould give     year. Stare: the questions fine; but like a globe, yearning they hire:     my prospect he wander’d,

cabin’d, so intense she, death of     woe; studying Gladiator’s art which most unregeneral     acts are a mistress,

and show and tends upon earth     we are to serve the first do blow. His delight occasionally     this: hath looks taught this

still pursues! Oh, yes, lest I am,     and eke the think a very well; all creatures and waters,     an’ she had more. Seeking:

the new Venus, but what kind     of a pieces of their day; the trophies—not of silver     when their life as with his

own: but when young. To fix the dolour     of regency ghouls. I thank all we can be. Being     dumb; for feelings, I put

in vogue has virgin marble for     best in the king: thaw this lovers, to cold, with thee thousand     like. Sets the shows the last:

if it’s not with pains its dose;—hers     wake, and such fire, and let thy fate, an airy instant more     informed, that … felt an

innocent and if I shifting back,     the slick-faced. But no one hurt exclaim How fair Acceptance     of love; there before white

bitches, than going to women     what you get up each out of that lace, makes to behold, his     hand, and swell of twelve yards

off, or reproach. That lay broad stay’d     at dawn and moral Washington of noble race, that true     blood townes be led; here these

blenches, when with herself, in     happiest of purpled, spiking back to resumed with a     roysterious, just come, song after

I am old and shield, which     slays esteem and given vp for plants in one simple in     the body—I lookt other

to me, darling, that eternal     feast; she there, by cool and all as man that living letter’d     Houses—and, Behold!

[swedishjazz]

Not that anyone ASKED but my modest, budding perfume collection:

- Chanel no 5, got it for christmas several years ago. I know a lot if people say it's an "old lady smell" but idgaf. I love it. I wish i had more occasions to wear it because what, I'm supposed to put ot on to ride the fucking bus? To make video games with guys that walk around the office barefoot? Like yeah i do that sometimes but it doesn't feel correct

- Elizabeth Arden Green Tea. The bottle is years old and theres only a little left, but I really like this scent, I've been using that last bit as a room freshener so i can use it up and buy a new one

- Elizabeth Arden 5th Avenue. Longevity suuuucks but I associate it with my grandma. Not because she used it, but because it smells like straight up lily of the valley, and grandma had those in her garden when I was a kid.

- Elizabeth Arden Sunflower. Yeah I like EA, sue me, their perfume goes on mad sales at Rossmann all the time. Just bought it but not in love with it.

- Rachel Zoe Warrior. Got a travel-size from my mom to test, it's GROSS. It doesn't smell like anything discernible to me, just this heavy, vague "this is a perfume" smell.

- Karl Lagerfeld Tokyo Shibuya. Christmas gift, unfortunately a miss, it's heavy and powdery and cloying, I never use it. Vibted is a bitch and won't let me sell it because it's used :/

- And finally, my favorite. My everyday scent. The one I use the most, the first perfume I've managed to use up an entire bottle of and repurchase:

Yeag. Yeap. This cheap bitch that smells like I rolled in actual vanilla sugar. I'm afraid I'm happiest when I smell not like a complex tapestry but like a fucking pastry. I love gourmands and I want people to become hungry when I walk past and to not know why. Btw just bought a tester of more expensive vanilla perfume with many more notes and it smells THEE fucking same as this, which proudly displays its one and only note, so either it's a diamond in the rough and a great value, or my nose just sucks and everyone around me thinks I smell cheap. But if its the latter, nobody has the inclination or balls to say so to my face, so it's not my problem 💅

- Honorable mention goes to Adopt's Pistache Dèlicieuse, which I used and really liked for maybe two weeks. And then one day it just started making me nauseous. It was like walking into an AoE attack all of a sudden. I gave it to a friend at work, which was a tactical mistake because they then started wearing it TO work 😭

Perfume prices

[married-to-a-redhead]

Headquarters, Camp Clark

Washington, D.C., July 14, 1861

My Very Dear Wife:

Indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days, perhaps to-morrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write a few lines, that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.

Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine, O God be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battle-field for any country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American civilization now leans upon the triumph of government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution, and I am willing, perfectly willing to lay down all my joys in this life to help maintain this government, and to pay that debt.

But, my dear wife, when I know, that with my own joys, I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with care and sorrows, when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer it, as their only sustenance, to my dear little children, is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of country.

I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death, and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country and thee.

I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in this hazarding the happiness of those I loved, and I could not find one. A pure love of my country, and of the principles I have often advocated before the people, and "the name of honor, that I love more than I fear death," have called upon me, and I have obeyed.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless. It seems to bind me with mighty cables, that nothing but Omnipotence can break; and yet, my love of country comes over me like a strong wind, and bears me irresistibly on with all those chains, to the battlefield. The memories of all the blissful moments I have spent with you come crowding over me, and I feel most deeply grateful to God and you, that I have enjoyed them so long. And how hard it is for me to give them up, and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our boys grow up to honorable manhood around us.

I know I have but few claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me, perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, nor that, when my last breath escapes me on the battle-field, it will whisper your name.

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless, how foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears, every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot, I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.

But, O Sarah, if the dead can come back to this earth, and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you in the garish day, and the darkest night amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours always, always, and, if the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air cools your throbbing temples, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dear; think I am gone, and wait for me, for we shall meet again.

As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father's love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue-eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care, and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers, I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.

- Sullivan

A week later, Sullivan Ballou was killed in the First Battle of Bull Run.

[chocolatecakecas]

Just A Normal Afternoon: Destiel Ficlet

Some baby jack truthing for the incredible @smiledean ‘s birthday!!! Happy Birthday Alison I hope you have a wonderful day!!!!🥳💖 

It was just another normal Wednesday afternoon. Sam and Eileen where off on a hunt, but they were supposed to be back before dinner tonight. So Cas had offered to make the run to the grocery store, and Dean prayed (literally, he's prayed to him three times since he had pulled out of the garage) that he wouldn't come back with half the store again.

So that left Dean and Jack to their own devices. Which is how Dean found himself on the floor in the library, seated across from Jack, on top of a rainbow blanket.

He was currently sending another silent prayer ("I pray to thee Castiel, that so his dumbass remembers that we don't need four different types of spaghetti sauce. Also stop buying kombucha, you know none of us even drink it!"), when a wooden block collided with his knee.

With a smirk Dean glanced down to see the culprit giggling to himself.

(read the rest under the cut)

"Message received kiddo, but hey it's not my fault your Dad is a shopaholic. Also we don't throw things" Dean tacked on at the end for good measure.

All he got in response was incoherent babbling, so he's assumed that "no throwing" lesson didn't stick, but hey that's a future Dean problem.

"Dee!" Jack screamed as he started wiggling and twisting in place.

"Oh do we have a dancing baby now? You're right kid, it is too quiet in here. You handle the clean up crew, and I'll go put another record on?" Dean offered and Jack flapped his hands around in the pile of blocks.

He quickly made his way to the record shelf(the bunker came full of record players, so Dean just improved their music selection), and began to comb through the albums.

"Any requests?" Dean called over his shoulder. Jack babbled in response, adding a little screech at the end.

"Good choice, bud. My thoughts exactly" Dean agreed, as he pulled out Queen's, Jazz. It had Jack's new favorite song.

Dean placed the needle on the second track, hoping he could tire Jack out a bit before his nap. Jack cheered when the song began, so Dean crossed the room, sitting back down in his spot. Jack hurriedly toddled over to him, and Dean grabbed his hips twisting him to the beat, as Jack laughed his head off.

He sang along, while Jack tried to mimic some of the sounds, and for a 13 month old he wasn't half bad.

Halfway through the third song Jack barreled into Dean's chest with an "oof".

"Hey you can't be tired already squish, I thought you were a dancing machine!" Dean teased as he lifted him up to blow a raspberry on his belly. Jack's laugh echoed through the halls.

Then he sat him in his lap, and Jack grabbed Dean's face with his little hands, smooshing his cheeks together.

"I know dancing takes a lot out of ya, what a workout! How about I grab your juice and you take a breather? Then the party can reconvene?" Dean suggested.

"App joooce!"

"Coming right up squish. Stay right here, capiche?" He said as he set him back down on the blanekt.

"Capeee" Jack repeated back with a smile.

So Dean quickly made his way to the kitchen, double checking that Jack was still within earshot.

He ripped open the fridge grabbing the jug of apple juice and plucked Jack's favorite sippy cup from the drying wrack on his way to the counter. As he poured the juice the opening chords of "Don't Stop Me Now" flitted down the hall, followed by an excited shriek. Dean couldn't help but laugh, god the things his kid did to his heart.

Dean screwed on the cap, making sure it was secure. The last thing they needed was apple juice staining the eighty-year old hardwood floors.

He heard the tell tale sound of Jack's feet on the floor as he danced to the music. So he jogged back to the library.

Dean froze. The smile slipped off his face, barely registering the sippy cup hitting the floor.

His heart leapt in his throat at he took in the scene before him.

He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't talk, what was he goi-

A book smacked him in the face, snapping him back to reality.

Around the room mugs, pens, pages of research, Jack's blocks, and hundreds of books floated around the room, bobbing through the air to the beat.

And in the center. Jumping in place on his rainbow blanket, arms above his head, was Jack.

Dean's heart began to race as the fear took over. He watched as lamps and ancient, heavy, artifacts flew right above his son's head.

He's never done this before, hell Dean didn't even know he could do this.

He suddenly couldn't breathe.

If Dean called his name he might startle him causing hundreds of objects to come crashing down.

But if he didn't call his name soon, then he wouldn't get his attention, then he'd get tired (it was almost naptime) and just drop everything all at once and crush himself a-

Focus Winchester.

So with a shaky breathe, Dean slowly bent down to pick up the fallen sippy cup. Then, carefully dodging an ashtray, he inched closer trying to make his presence known.

It must have worked because Jack turned to Dean with a bright smile.

"Dee!!"

"Hey kiddo. Why don't you put those arms down and come get your juice from Dee?" Dean said with the happiest voice he could muster and a smile plastered on his face.

And of course Jack raised his arms even higher in excitement when he spotted the juice.

"Dee look!"

Shit

"Yeah buddy I see, but if you lower your arms, you can have your juice? But only if you lower your arms, okay bud?" Dean offered switching tactics, trying (and failing) not to let his desperation show.

But Jack had already forgotten all about Dean and the juice because all of his attention was on the bridge of the song, lost in the guitar solo. And he apparently used his mojo to crank the volume too.

Then everything began spinning faster, and Dean had to dive to the floor to avoid a statue to the face.

He kept his head up, eyes trained on Jack, as he army crawled towards him.

"Jack! Baby please! Why don't you put your arms down for Daddy?" He pleaded reaching out as he moved closer.

Dean dared a glance up, eyes blowing wide, as he took in the tornado of crap above him. Fear dropped in the pit of his stomach as he, urged forward, heart pounding in his chest.

God he could almost grab him, just a couple more inches. Dean has to get him, what if he gets crus-

"Da!"

And then, hundreds of objects came crashing down around them.

The air left his lungs as he scrambled to get to Jack.

Who was sitting on his blanket, not a single book or a block within two feet of him, smiling to himself.

Thank fucking god.

Dean scooped him up, squeezing him tight against his chest. Jack was fine, he wasn't smushed like a pancake by some old statue, he was saf-

Then there was another thud.

He snapped up to see Cas, standing slack jawed, wide eyed, with shopping bags spilling out around his feet.

"Da!" Jack cheered again wiggling out of Dean's grasp, racing towards Cas, who wasted no time picking him up.

"Well, it looks like you two had a busy afternoon" Cas said, smirk clear in his voice as he recovered from the initial shock.

The same could not be said for Dean, as he deflated, flopping on his back. He tried to get some air back in his lungs, as he worked through what he was sure was a minor heart attack.

"Dean, I told you Jack was too young to watch Matilda" Cas hummed as he crossed the room.

And Dean could only muster the strength to flip his finger in the air. And looked up when he felt Jack being dropped on his chest.

"I'm going to get the rest of the groceries, so do try to keep our son from flying the knife collection around the room, next" Cas joked with a smile as he pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Dean shot him a glare without any real heat behind it, then turned his attention to his kid perched on his chest, sippy cup of juice now in hand.

"Hi Dee!" Jack smiled, as if the events from two seconds ago, never occurred. That's kids for ya.

"Yeah hi kiddo" Dean said exasperated as he laid his head back down, shutting his eyes.

He stayed their for a moment still trying to overcome the shock, until Jack crawled higher up his chest and squishing his face with a giggle. And a smile tugged at Dean's lips, opening his eyes to see Jack peering down at him.

"Alright, naptime super-baby. Dee needs to sleep off his heart failure" Dean said pushing himself off the floor, and he carried Jack down the hall.

God this kid was literally going to be the death of him, but Dean didn't mind too much. Normal Wednesdays are boring anyway.

Tag list:

(As always please let me know if you would like to be added or removed💛!!!)

@wormstacheangel @smiledean @shelikestv @chaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale @wikiangela @organicpurplepants

@writtendevastation @tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog @rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @shadowywerewolfqueen @the-cookie-navy @thelahatiel @thefantasyfiend @castielle-deanna @aestheticflyer26

@multi-fandom-imagine @x-mypeopleskillsarerusty-x @wellofwoes @becky-srs @multi-fandom-dark-lord @perfectkoaladream @castiel-for-lunch @it--hurts--to--become @bowtiesandneckerchiefs @dakiaty @feraldean @teamfreebees @keshetcas @hrh-princess-bea @martymar1963 @midnight-sparks-studio @slipper007 @rainbowsam @winchester-novak

[openheartfanfics]

Domestic Bliss: Wedding & Proposals

Ethan x F!MC

A Chance for Us - @lawyerlies 🎭 2 years after they have ended their relationship, Ethan attends Anj’s wedding but can he ever let her go?

A Day to Remember - @trappedinfanfiction  ☁ It’s their big day, and with that comes nerves.

A Letter to My Love - @potionsprefect ☁ The night before their wedding, Ethan and Victoria pen a letter to each other.

A Valentine Engagement - @liaromancewriter 📷 Cassie and Ethan's big news makes for front page headlines in the society papers.

Abscond - @utterlyinevitable ☁ Well, they’re 10-minutes to their ceremony and Ethan emotions start to take over.

All Yours - @a-crepusculo ☁ Set five years after their fateful encounter at Edenbrook.

An Ideal Reality - @xxtraord1nary ☁ A day to remember. When two lonely souls joined to become one full hearted union. When a woman became a Ramsey and a man became the happiest on earth.

As Planned - @jerzwriter ☁ Kaycee's first boyfriend and his girlfriend get married, and Ethan's plan goes into motion.

Beautiful - @choicesfanaf  ☁ Ethan knows how to calm down Arundhati.

Beautiful - @coffeeheartaddict2  ☁ It is finally Casey and Ethan’s Wedding.

Before ‘I do’ - @potionsprefect  ☁ Victoria and Ethan share a private moment before their wedding.

Conflicting Emotions - @chaoticchopshopheart 📚 [mini: wip]  With the Lawsuit and Penelope’s approaching boards, tensions are high. Penelope convinces Ethan to finally use her family’s law firm to represent him during their getaway at Martha’s Vineyard.

Part 1  |  2. Love Like Ours

Destination - @terrm9 ♥ Light NSFW - They’re in Miami, four years later. This time, Ethan needs to ask MC a certain question.

Everything I’ll Ever Need - @kaavyaethanramsey ☁ A whole fic full of romantic fluff and our beloved doctor proposing!

First Look - @dr-addieramsey ☁ It’s their wedding day and they share their first look

Fits like you and me - @perriewinklenerdie 🎭 Ethan plans to propose but the ring goes missing.

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2 [NSFW]

For Forever - @jerzwriter ☁ Day two of Ethan’s surprises for Casey’s 29thBirthday, and this one has a lasting impact

Forever & Always -  @heauxplesslydevoted A quick little glance at Ethan’s thoughts moments before his wedding. Ethan POV

Forever’s gonna start tonight - @perriewinklenerdie Ethan and Claire elope.

Hot Idea - @jerzwriter ☁ Ethan & Kaycee are poolside on one of the hottest days in Boston's history; Ethan's eager to go inside until Kaycee mentions wedding planning. Then, there's a brilliant idea.

Husband and Wife - @potionsprefect  ☁ 📷 Victoria and Ethan get married.

I believe congratulations are in order? - @coffeeheartaddict2 ☁ Ethan has proposed to Casey and Tobias wishes to celebrate. Feat. Tobias Carrick

I do - @ethanramseytwilight ☁ They get married. Told from both lovebirds' perspectives.

I do... - @liaromancewriter  ☁ 📷 An impromptu engagement followed by a whirlwind wedding, Cassie and Ethan finally tie the knot…as told through Pictagram.

I do. Me too. - @jerzwriter ☁ They didn't want a lot of fuss, so they planned their "surprise wedding" in less than a month.

I Now Pronounce You - @paulfwesley During a quiet night in, Ethan asks MC a question.

I Object - @thanialis 🎭 Everyone is excited about the couple sharing a life together except one doctor who will have to come to terms that he missed his chance… or did he? Feat. Bryce x MC

I Thee Wed... - @liaromancewriter ☁ Ethan and Cassie are ready to say, ‘I do,’ but they forget one important step.

I’m All Yours -   @lahamseiroshoe   It’s their wedding day.

If I Got You - @a-crepusculo ☁ Ethan delightfully invited his wife for a final dance at their reception party

In the Morning. - @writinghereandthere 🎭 Long term unmarried couple deciding to get married when one of them receives a terminal medical diagnosis

If Today Was a Fairy Tale - @liaromancewriter ☁Ⓜ After a whirlwind engagement and wedding, how did Ethan and Cassie spend their first night together as man and wife?

Inevitably Inevitable - @liaromancewriter ☁️ Ethan and Cassie receive a surprise performance during their wedding reception.

Inevitably Together - @caseyvalentineramsey ☁ Ethan has something special planned to surprise Casey on the Propose day Feat. Zaid x Ines

It's the day!! - @zealouscanonindeer 📷 Ethan and Aspen's wedding day.

Just an Ordinary Day - @the-pale-goddess  ☁ Just three people enjoying their day at the beach...Wearing wedding outfits.

Just Browsing - @writinghereandthere ☁ Ethan goes ring shopping.

Kaliwanagan - @lawyerlies 🎭 When Ethan receives a message from Louise would it ruin their wedding. Feat. Louise

La Ville d’Amour {The City of Love} - @genevievemd ☁ The first part of Ethan and Gen’s Parisian vacation. AKA When they secretly elope.

Love Like Ours -  @chaoticchopshopheart ☁ Ethan proposes to Penelope in Martha’s Vineyard over a romantic candlelight dinner.

Love Me Like You Do - @bex-la-get ♥ Natalie and Ethan celebrate their honeymoon, the only way they know how.

Marry Me - @anonymousrookie ☁ Ethan proposes to Keegan during a weekend trip to Rhode Island.

Marry Me - @a-crepusculo  📚 ☁ [extended: wip] One simple question can change their whole lives forever.

Miami - @rookie-ramsey She never expected to return to the Miami hotel room.

Miami Nights - @heauxplesslydevoted ♥ While in Miami to celebrate their upcoming wedding, Ethan and Naomi sneak away from the festivities to have their own celebration.

My One and Only Love - @potionsprefect  ☁ Victoria and Ethan read the letters that they wrote to each other.

New Journey - @mysticalgalaxysstuff  📷 ☁ It's the big day of their lives!

One Question - @potionsprefect ☁ Ethan has a special question to ask Victoria

Otherwise Engaged - @jerzwriter ☁ Ethan wants Naveen to help him pick out an engagement ring to present to Casey on the first anniversary of being an official couple, but Naveen gets the message all wrong.

Paradise - @potionsprefect  ☁ Victoria and Ethan go on their honeymoon.

Picking Dresses - @daddyethanramsey The Girl Gang helping MC pick wedding dresses.

Plans For Paris - @genevievemd ☁ Gen makes one final suggestion for their planned trip to Paris, and Ethan agrees.

Proposal - @heauxplesslydevoted   It doesn’t go as planned.

Something Happened on the Way to Forever - @danijimenezv  📚 ☁ [mini: wip] Wedding planning is not always as easy and smooth as people seem to thing. These are a few key moments and bumps in the road that happened in between their engagement and their actual wedding.

Part 1: The Engagement Party

Surprise - @ethanramseytwilight ☁ Ethan finally proposes to his 'special someone'.

The Best Man - @headoverheelsforramsey ☁ Ethan gets nervous over the best man speech at Tobias’ wedding, and turns to his wife for help.

The Diamond - @genevievemd ☁ MC and Ethan come home from a charity gala, and the night takes a surprising turn.

The Eleventh Hour - @inlocusmads ☁ Ethan wallows in his sorrows. Hope eventually arrives in the form of a pajama-wearing, file-bearing, frantically-running Jane.

The Engagement Party - @genevievemd ☁ The OPH Crew comes together to celebrate Ethan and Gen’s engagement. (Told through multiple POVS)

The Grape Escape - @liaromancewriter  ☁ Ethan Ramsey has a bad day at work and Cassie introduces him to the art of vegging on the couch with takeout and a dumb movie.

The Light of His Life - @rookiemartin ☁ Ethan is asking her the most important question of his life.

The One with the Wedding Vows -  @openheart12 It’s their wedding day!

The Proposal - @ramseyandrys  Ethan chooses an engagement ring and proposes to MC.

The Year Between - @genevievemd 📚 ☁ [extended: complete] Following their engagement, Ethan and Gen navigate the year between the ring and wedding.

Ch 21: Dearly Beloved

This Christmas - @jerzwriter  ☁🎄 Kaycee is eagerly looking forward to picking out their Christmas tree; but Ethan turns it into a night they’ll never forget.

To Casey and Ethan - @coffeeheartaddict2  ☁ Multiple perspectives on the celebration of the engagement of Ethan and Casey.

To Love and To Hold - @ofmischiefandmedicine  ☁ Laura Levchenko is adamant about never getting married. One man succeeds at changing her mind.

Untitled Prompt (Proposal) - @omgjasminesimone

“We’re either getting married, or we’re breaking up.” - @bex-la-get ☁

Where It All Started - @aworldoffandoms Ethan’s got the blessing, he has the ring…but is he ready to take the plunge

Where the Love-light Gleams - @takemyopenheart  ☁🎄 Christmas time is here, and Ethan has a very important question to ask Luz.

Will You - @takeharryandgo ☁ Ethan has a very important question for Meredith.

With all my heart - @bi-cookie A messy kitchen, an old pup, and one slow dance Leads to an unexpected proposal.

5 Times Sadie Hinted at a Ring and 1 Time She Didn't - @peonyblossom ☁ A fic featuring five occasions where Sadie Oakley hinted at engagement rings.

[avatraang]

Writer Tag Game

I’m 18 days late but thank you @irresistible-revolution for tagging me <3 and thank you to @thetpot for tagging me more recently too <33

I’m going to tag @cats-and-metersticks @twinkle-toph @rllybritrlly @justoceanmyth @alllemagne :)

How many works do you have on AO3?

48 🤡 i have more on ff.net, but we don’t speak of those lmao

What's your total AO3 word count?

211743

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

sad, beautiful, tragic she could rule the world (and he loves her), truths and ideals (and the fallen in love), breezing into joke shops (in search of good coffee), (just say) you won’t let go.

the fandoms are as follows: doctor who, avatar: the last airbender, pokemon black and white, harry potter, harry potter. They are all older fics of mine, especially the doctor who one! phew, what a trip down memory lane lol.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do my best! Sometimes I forget for long stretches of time, and then in a flurry of energy I respond to a big load of them. But I think it encourages community, which in fandom is really all we have.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

i’d say one of my fremione fics, the liar and his lover. I am definitely prone to angsty writing above any other genres, but this fic definitely hit a level I don’t typically dare approach. still, even as the years have progressed, i really do continue to hold this fic near my heart.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

because i don’t write a lot of feel-good fics, it’s way easier to pinpoint a fic with an overall happy tone and ending! personally, i believe the happiest ending i’ve ever written is to my fic the sweetest rewards. it was definitely solely for my own enjoyment and had no intention of being sad, and i think the joy i had while writing it showed.

Do you write crossovers? If so, What is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I used to write a few Disney crossovers, and I think one of them is up on ao3, but honestly, the one and only crossover that I’ve written that comes to mind even 6 (six!!!) years later is a captain america and narnia crossover i wrote that centered around bucky barned and susan pevensie. the premise of bucky and susan is actually super interesting to me, and i always meant to write another fic for them, but time passed and i never did.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

one time someone commented on a fic and told me that toph and sokka wouldn’t have pet names, which like, okay i guess? but as a whole no, i typically don’t get hate. if i did though i’d probably treat it like i treat everything else on the internet -superficially. 

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

i do, but not often. I started more recently! i have two explicit fics, and three fics that are mature. the M rated fics more just ~imply~ sex, but the explicit fics are, well... explicit about it, lmao. the two explicit fics are definitely porn with feelings, and have just been me exploring and bettering my skills in the sex writing department. one of them is a tokka fic, called lazy sunday, and the other is a maiaang fic, called a better companion.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

o.o i don’t think so!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

i have! on ff.net, though. 

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

twice, once with my sister (first fic i ever wrote), and again for the pjo fandom. the pjo one was never finished, but that’s alright!

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

ooof this is such a HARD question! i’ve always loved tokka, since atla’s original airing. fremione has also always been close to my heart! i have many more pairings i love, but let’s just call it a tie between those two lol

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

lmfao my pokemon black and white fanfic, truths and ideals (and the fallen in love). i left it open for a second part, but then i was like “eh, it works by itself too” and never went back to it even though to this day people still comment begging for a second part. it’s the chaotic energy for me lmfaoooo

What are your writing strengths?

i’d say my attention to the details of a setting (like a room or a person). i recently wrote a fic where i described aang’s tattoos in vivid detail, and i’m really proud of the explanation i came up with for how they just disappear in some places. i also have been told i translate emotion well into my writing without characters having to explicitly say what they’re feeling, which is good, because i think it’s rare for folks to actually come right out and express themselves.

What are your writing weaknesses?

while i give a lot of attention to a setting or a person, my attention to detail when it comes to dialogue and action is weak. i also am not the best at transitioning from scene to scene, most likely from the fact that i usually write fics that have long breaks of time between each moment.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don’t really do it in any languages other than English or Spanish. Even in Spanish I’m wary, because it’s such a rich language with different dialects. I speak El Salvadoran Spanish, which is virtually the same as Honduran and Guatemalan Spanish, but differs hugely from Colombian, Cuban, or Mexican Spanish (for example). Therefore, I’m always a little scared to write dialogue in Spanish even though I’m a native speaker, just because of those huge differences in dialect. And when it comes to other languages, I pretty much never do it.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Pokemon, lmao. It was a truth or dare fic series that I cowrote with my little sister.

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

worship the flame. it was like making a daydream your reality. i had spent countless hours just thinking about the concepts, and then one day after talking to some folks in the hive mind server, sat down and penned the whole thing in one sitting. not just a favorite, but THEE favorite.

[chocoluckchipz]

A Bride for the Prince - 22

A03 ~ < Previous 

The warmth of a mid-spring sunray glided up his cheek, travelled along the curve of his nose and zeroed in on an eye. Grumbling, Adrien buried his face deeper into the crook of his wife’s neck and sighed with satisfaction.  

“Getting tired?” Marinette asked, reaching up to gently caress his cheek. “Should we head back?”

“Not yet,” Adrien leaned into the touch, whimpering as soon as Marinette withdrew her hand.

“Okay, but we should head back soon. It’s almost dinnertime.”

He hummed and pulled Marinette closer, if that was even possible, seeing as Adrien was already tightly wrapped around her from behind on a random garden bench. Seven months into their marriage but he still couldn't believe how lucky he was to have Marinette as his wife. She’d made him the happiest man alive in every sense of that word, and Adrien wasted no time in proving his affections back to her. It had become, in a sense, an essential part of his life, and judging from Marinette’s smile, she enjoyed his attention.

In a moment, she turned her sight back to the book in her hands and continued to read. “So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”*

The last two lines Adrien whispered along with her, pressing the kiss to her neck at the end. “I love you. Have I told you that yet today?”

“Only a million times.” Marinette laughed, putting the book down and patting her lap. “Come here.”

Adrien barely kept his balance as he disentangled himself from behind Marinette and laid down on a bench, nestling his head onto her lap. He weaved his arms around her waist, a content sigh slipping his smiling lips.

“Are you sure you don’t have any feline ancestors?” Marinette giggled, burying her fingers in his hair, letting them run through the blond strands, lightly massaging his scalp and scratching behind the ears, just the way he liked it.

“Nope. I’m just a simple man with simple needs, and your attention is one of them. Don’t know if I’ll survive without this now. You’ve got me addicted.”

“Dork,” she chuckled, continuing her ministrations.

Adrien closed eyes, purring in satisfaction. If there was a paradise somewhere in this universe, for him this was it: a lazy late afternoon in the garden, sun warming his body, a cool breeze blowing by; cuddles with his wife, her fingers doing their magic, every touch sending pleasurable tingles down his skin; and his face pressed against her growing belly.

“How are the things with that proposal to change the law we’ve talked about? The one that’ll allow Alya to become the Royal Messenger?”

“All done,” Adrien hummed. “I’ll present it to Father once he’s back and has had a chance to rest.”

“I really hope he approves it,” Marinette said, running her hands down his back, kneading lightly at spots she knew Adrien loved. “You worked so hard on it, and if it goes through, this would change Alya’s life.”

Adrien turned his head to look at Marinette and grinned. “You know what else will soon change Alya’s life?”

Marinette stared at him for a moment in silence, her eyebrows slowly knitting into a frown, before her eyes blew wide. “No!”

Adrien grinned wider.

“Oh, my gosh! He’s finally going to do this?”

“He didn’t want to ask her before he had a home for them, but as of last week, Nino’s a proud owner of a lovely cottage on the town’s outskirts. Great place for them to start off. But don’t tell her yet. It’s supposed to be a secret.”

“And how do you suppose I keep something like this a secret from her?”

Adrien chuckled, turning back to press his nose to their unborn baby in Marinette’s belly. “You’ve fooled a king and his whole court once into thinking you were someone you weren’t for a month. You absolutely can keep this a secret for a few days—” He froze, his breath hitching, eyes wide, his hand shooting to his nose. “Did you feel it?”

“I did.” Marinette brushed his hair away from his forehead. “Have been feeling for the last few weeks. I told you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but that’s a first for me,” Adrien said, barely breathing, his fingers dancing around Marinette’s belly as he nuzzled it harder. “Come one, kitten. One more time. For Daddy. Just one more kick or I’ll think it was just a dream.”

She couldn't hold back the giggles. “The kicks are getting stronger and more frequent with every day, so I’m sure you’ll feel plenty of them from now on.”

The sounds of approaching steps startled them both. Adrien groaned, tightening his grip on Marinette. “I don’t want to go yet.”

Marinette chuckled, bumping his nose with her finger. “You know you’re such a child sometimes.”

“All the time, if you ask me,” Nino said, coming closer. “An overgrown child, obsessed with his wife.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Adrien pressed himself closer to Marinette, snuggling up to her with a goofy smile on his lips. “No one here is obsessed with anyone.”

“Says the man who’s still laying on his wife’s lap when he has somewhere else to be,” Nino retorted.

“He’s got you there, Your Highness,” Marinette teased, giving Adrien’s back a gentle pat.

“Dinnertime isn’t here yet,” Adrien whined, tightening his hold on Marinette. “Go away.”

“But your father is, and he asked both of you to join him for dinner.”

Adrien looked at Nino. “Father’s back? He wasn't supposed to return until tomorrow evening. Did something happen?”

“You’ll have to ask him that yourself.” Nino shrugged. “I was just given an order to invite you two to dine with him.”

Adrien looked at Marinette. She shrugged her shoulders, his worry mirroring in her eyes. “I guess we’d better head back then.”

Reluctantly, Adrien let Marinette go and stood up. He fixed his clothes back in place and held out his hand for Marinette. “Shall we, my Lady?”

She took his hand and walked with him back to the castle, only to be mercilessly stolen away by Alya at the very end.

“I apologize, Your Highness,” Alya said, not the slightest hint of regret in her voice, as she took Marinette away. “But you’ll have to let her go. She needs to change into a more appropriate gown for the dinner with the King. This one is all scrunched up in front. What did you do, Marinette?”

“He used her lap as a pillow,” Nino added the fuel to the fire that was his girlfriend.

Alya’s smirk widened. “I know you two can’t keep your hands off each other, but could you not create more work for me while you’re at it?”

Adrien coughed to cover the fact his cheeks were turning red, Marinette’s face beside him flaming crimson. Nino hissed something in retort, but Adrien didn’t catch what he’d said.

“We should go prepare for dinner,” Adrien spoke. “Wouldn't be polite to make Father wait after a long journey.”

“Absolutely,” Marinette added, her voice trembling. “And I am kind of hungry already, so dinner it is. Let’s go prepare.”

Alya chuckled. “You’re always hungry these days, Marinette. It’s like you’re eating for four people, not two. It’s a miracle you’re still just as tiny as before, even with your baby bump.”

He should’ve left. They were a little late already. However, an opportunity to praise his wife was the only thing that Adrien couldn’t walk away from. So, he reached for Marinette’s hand and placed a kiss atop of her knuckles. “She didbecome four times as beautiful, though. Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Absolutely.” Alya nodded. “Pregnancy looks good on our future Queen.”

“Why ‘future’?” Adrien gave his wife that goofy, love-sick smile that seemed to have permanently settled on his face around Marinette. “She’s my queen already.”

Her cheeks pretty pink, Marinette shushed them. “Didn't we have dinner to go to?”

“Yes. Right. Dinner.” Adrien nodded and with a few final words, departed to prepare, leaving Marinette and Alya alone to do the same.

It didn't take them long. Half an hour later, Adrien picked up Marinette from her room and they headed to the dining hall together. Gabriel was already at the table, looking over some letters when they came in. Adrien greeted him with a head bow, Marinette with a curtsy.

“You’re back early?” Adrien asked once the food was served. “Did something happen?”

“No.” Gabriel shook his head. “I just finished everything I had to do earlier.”

“Does it mean the project is going well?”

Gabriel nodded. “Marinette’s parents are doing better than expected at overseeing it.”

Marinette perked at the mention. “How are they managing?”

“They sent you a letter. I’ll have it delivered to your room after dinner, but everything is going great. The orphanages are open and running.”

“Any results yet?” Adrien asked. “Concerning the street crime?”

“Yes,” Gabriel replied a bit hesitantly. “But we’ll need at least a year to see if getting orphans off the streets will be worth it in the long run. As much as I agree with Marinette on this, other nobles wouldn’t want to invest in anything without a confirmed return.”

“I agree,” Marinette added. “As much as I’m excited for this to get implemented across the kingdom, we need concrete results to convince the nobles first. Without their support, this will never work. Thank you for trying it out, though. I’m honoured you even considered this.”

A hint of a smile zoomed across Gabriel’s lips as he acknowledged Marinette’s words with a nod. “No need to thank me. You proposed an excellent solution for the issue we’ve been struggling to resolve for some time. It’d be foolish to pass on that.”

Adrien couldn't hold back a smile. A born leader who grew up as a commoner, Marinette saw a side of issues that Gabriel, Adrien, and all of their noble advisors failed to account for, and for someone who wanted to make their kingdom the best it could be, that was priceless. Marinette was proving herself to be a great asset to their kingdom, and slowly his father was starting to understand that, listening more and more to her ideas and opinions. Now, he was even implementing some of them. Soon, Adrien was afraid Marinette would have his father wrapped all around her finger just like his mother had.

He didn’t mind that in the slightest.

“We’re lucky to have her.” Adrien grinned at his wife. “She brought a new vision to the team, one both of us lack.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Gabriel nodded. “But enough about politics. I’m too tired for that now.” Shifting his sight to Marinette, he asked, “How is my grandchild doing?”

“Strong and healthy.” Marinette smiled. “Or at least that's what the physician tells me. All I know is that the baby started to kick up a storm in there.”

“I even felt it today,” Adrien added with pride. “A strong kick to my nose.”

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow, but seemingly decided against asking.

They spent the rest of the dinner in an easy-flowing conversation, after which Gabriel retreated to his quarters. Marinette tagged along with Alya for an evening stroll while Adrien and Nino headed to the sparring court to get some exercise before bedtime.  

The evening flew by. Adrien bid goodnight to his companion and headed to his quarters, eager to finally spend some time with Marinette interruption-free. He wasn’t needy or clingy, and he certainly knew how to share, but stealing some privacy for themselves was becoming more and more challenging during the day. The only time they were truly alone with each other being the evenings and nights. That was something he couldn’t nor was willing to give up. Mostly because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to fall asleep anymore without Marinette by his side. He’d miss her warmth, her scent, her arms around him, the softness of her skin, her frequent turning and shifting as she’d try to find a comfortable position with her belly growing—

Adrien grunted, quickening his steps. Now that he’d felt their baby move for the first time, he’d spend the whole night with his hands on Marinette, trying to catch it again. Unless… she wanted him to use his hands for different activities which he’d gladly oblige to because this was Marinette, the most amazing, beautiful woman in the world, and he got those butterflies stirring in the pit of his stomach just from thinking about her.

When he’d gotten there, she wasn’t in the room yet, which was a bit unusual because Marinette’s bedroom had never really turned into anything more than her wardrobe and “getting ready” space, both of them preferring his bedroom to spend their free time in. When Adrien came back from his bath, Marinette was still absent. This time, however, sounds of laughter seeped into the room from behind the door that led to Marinette’s bedroom. He didn’t even notice how he’d gotten to the door and knocked.

The voices inside ceased, Alya opening the door a moment later. “Can’t wait to get your hands on her?”

He nervously chuckled.

“Just a few more minutes. Don’t worry, no one will steal her away from you,” Alya said, keeping the door mostly closed.

“I just wanted—”

“The wait would be worth it, Adrien,” Alya ignored his attempts to speak up. “Believe me, you’ll love it. She designed it herself, and the tailor has finally finished it.”

Adrien frowned in confusion. “Designed what?”

“You’ll see.” Alya’s smirk turned mischievous. She glanced behind herself and grinned. “And she’s done. Enjoy!”

Stepping away, Alya opened the door fully, revealing Marinette in a light-pink, flowy nightgown he’d never seen before in the centre of the room. Adrien forgot how to breathe. The gown was beyond gorgeous and made Marinette look incredible. The fabric cascaded down to the very floor, soft folds framing her baby bump. It showed just enough of the cleavage—that, mind him, got bigger with the pregnancy and he absolutely loved it—to intrigue and tease but not to expose too much. The shoulder stripes were made of the same ribbon that served as a belt just under her bosom. Her hair down, a light blush on her cheeks, Marinette looked more beautiful than an Aphrodite herself. Stunning, he’d say. It did things to him he’d rather not have witnesses to.

As if reading his mind, Alya scurried away. She said something before disappearing, but it was lost on Adrien as he stood frozen in his place, gawking at his wife.

“Cat got your tongue?” Marinette teased.

“No. Yes. I… I came— You weren’t in the room, so I thought I’d come here.”

Marinette gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It took a bit longer than I thought to read the letter from Papa and Maman.”

“Oh? What’s the news?”

“Pretty much the same things your father told us over dinner.” Marinette shrugged and looked at him with a mischievous smirk on her lips. “But do you really want to discuss the economy and internal affairs now?”

The sultriness of her voice, the look in her eyes, that mastery of her body language… Adrien swallowed, his stomach tightening with desire. “No. Not really.”

“Good,” Marinette said, slowly walking around the room putting out candles that lightened the space. “Because I was trying really hard to make myself look irresistible tonight.”

“Is that so?” He could hardly stand in his place. Why was he still standing in his place when he could go sweep his wife into his arms?

With the light of the last candle out, moonlight engulfed the room, making Marinette look almost ethereal as she slowly walked toward Adrien, her lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “Did I succeed?”

He took her in his arms as soon as he could reach her. Leaning close, Adrien whispered with a breathy voice, “Absolutely. I'm stunned speechless.”

“A new nightgown is all it takes to render you speechless, my Prince?” she teased, a light blush on her cheeks betraying her still-even-after-all-this-time-there shyness. Because no matter how much of a tease she’d become—which Adrien absolutely loved—underneath it all, this breathtaking woman was still his precious, sweet Marinette who blushed at the simplest of touches.  Tilting her head to the side, she let a smile tug at the corners of her lips. “What will become of you when I pull out my other, more sensual nightgown?”

Adrien swallowed. “There are more—gowns? Like—like this one?”

“A couple. I ordered a few to get me through the pregnancy.”

“And are they all as gorgeous?”

“This one is the simplest of them.”

Adrien tried to stay as calm as possible because the fire in his stomach was raging by now. He ran his fingers over the satin straps and grazed them over the fabric edge atop her breasts. “You designed it yourself?”

“I did.”

“You should do it more often.”

“You think so?”

He cupped her face, bringing her in for a lingering kiss. “What do you think? By wearing just one outfit you made me fall in love with you all over again.”

“Is that even possible?” Marinette giggled.

“I know. I’m shocked myself,” Adrien chuckled. “But I’m willing to prove the sincerity of my words to you if you wish.”

“How can I refuse?”

With a swift movement, Adrien gathered her up in his arms bridal style. Just like that first night after their wedding. Just like every night after that. Marinette smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder. Holding her tightly in his arms, Adrien walked back to his bedroom and gently laid his wife on their bed. Propped on his elbows, he hovered over her.

She smiled back at him, reaching out to tug him closer. “I love you, my Prince,” she spoke, words slipping lovingly from her lips.

“And I love you, my Princess,” he whispered, leaning into her touch before closing the distance between them.

* William Shakespeare, Sonnet 18.

[chaotichoshi]

Staring/ Ricky Bowen

a/n: this is my first English imagine ever, so it's not very good and I'm aware of that. If u can, please comment what can I do to make my imagines better🙂

Warnings: none

'Come on Ricky, stop staring at her or she's gonna see it' said Big Red before waving his hand in front of his best friend's face. Ricky didn't really payed attention to this. He was too busy with staring at his crush, y/n, helping Ashlyn with hanging posters about an upcoming halloween party. 'She looks so pretty in that new shirt' said the curly haired boy before looking at his friend, who was clearly not suprised with what he just said. Big Red knew about Ricky's crush since the very beginning, and after three years was still the only person being the keeper of Ricky's secret. 'If you think so, just ask her out' said Big Red, when he realized that Ricky waited for him to say something. As an answer, curly haired just sighed and shaked his head. 'It's not that simple Red, you know it.' He said, looking at y/n again. At that moment, she was laughing at something with Ashlyn. Ricky could stare at her for the whole day, but there was one thing that made him look away that time. It was her eyes meeting his ones, the moment y/n caught Ricky staring at her.

'Looks like someone is interested in you' said Ashlyn with a smile on her face. Y/n knew, that Ricky was staring at her since the beginning of the lunch, so she just smiled in response. 'He's cute tho' she said, making her friend smile even more. 'I think it's a good idea for you to talk about it, you know he's staring at you everytime he has a chance, right?' said red haired girl, making y/n blush a little. She never told anyone because she wasn't sure if this feeling is real or not, but since couple weeks, she felt something towards that boy. Couple days before, she realized, that this feeling is 100% real, but still wanted to keep this for herself. 'But if what Ashlyn says was true' thought y/n 'maybe he's feels something too'. 

Y/n didn't realized, that she said the last part, and Ashlyn heard it. 'Wait. You feel something to a boy and you didn't told me?' Ashlyn asked, trying to look serious, but after three or four seconds she laughed a little. 'You know, I wasn't sure if what i feel is real, until now. I think.' y/n said looking at Ricky, who was talking with Big Red at the moment. 

'Go with it, girl' Ashlyn said, putting her hands on y/n's shoulders. 'Just tell him what you feel. It will be fine, I swear'.

Ashley was always a great observer, so she realized that Ricky feels something to y/n really fast. However, she wanted y/n to find this out by herself, not trough her or anyone else. Ashlyn showed y/n thumbs up, before letting her go to Ricky and finally confess her feeling towards him.

'Looks like someone's coming here' Big Red said, poking Ricky's shoulder. He looked up and saw y/n, walking towards him and his friend, without looking up from the floor. When she finally stood in front of Ricky's table, she caught eye contact with him and smiled. 'Can we talk?'  y/n said, breaking thee eye contact for awhile. 'Uh- okay' Ricky said, very nervous because of the situation. The one and only y/n y/l/n just decided to walk to him ask, if they can talk.

'But you know, I meant like alone' she said, looking at all of the other students sitting and talking around them. He nodded and followed her to the school corridor. They stayed in silence for awhile, when y/n finally spoke. 'I need to know something' she said, making Ricky even more nervous than he was before. 'I know we're not friends or anything, but i think i might feel something towards you.'

Ricky's heart stopped beating for a second since he realized what she just said. She liked him, after all these years she finally felt the same as him. The curly haired boy didn't know what to say, his mind couldn't think of anything except y/n's words. The girl still stood up in front of him, nervously waiting for him to response. Instead of it, she felt his soft lips crashing against her ones, and she couldn't do anything else that just kiss him back. Their lips were conected till the moment, when they really needed to breathe.

'I love you too, y/n' Ricky said, smiling at her and pulling into a hug. Inside he felt like the happiest person on earth, standing with his whole word in his arms. 

[sailorbellewrites]

More Than You Can Chew

characters— taehyung x reader (aka kiddo) (ft. members of bts)

summary— taehyung has been (not so quietly) obsessed with the young rapper who eats glazed donuts at the corner table every saturday night for some time now. but everyone thinks dating her is biting off more than he can chew. 

information— one shot. fluff. femme reader. character inspired by megan thee stallion, cardi b, and lil’ kim. longer than previous works. same universe as “no limit”, now titled the baking news au. there will be a second part to this titled jawbreaker, which will be released later this month.

warnings— strong language. mean & aggressive characters. casual mentions of sex and sexual behavior (but no smut because i’m shy). excessive mentions of the color pink. vague mentions of other celebrities and influencers. taehyung is an adorable tryhard.

more than you can chew—

On the outside looking in, Yoongi was kind of an asshole. He didn’t speak much and when he did, he never had anything nice to say. His face was void of most emotions, except for the sour expression that would develop when Hoseok laughed too loud in the backseat of your car. The happiest you had ever seen him was when the aforementioned male got too excited during a cypher and fell off the stage. Yoongi laughed hysterically for 30 minutes, much to Hoseok’s annoyance. He spent more time in the studio than he did with his fiancée, a fact that resulted in her calling off the wedding three times in the past year. He always wore black, even in the dead of summer. On the inside looking in, he was much worse. That’s why it’s all too easy to tell him “no” when he asks for a favor.

“Awww, come on Kiddo.”

“Fuck off.”

“I never ask you for shit—”

“So why ruin a good thing and start now?” Yoongi rolls his eyes at your words, body falling into the chair across from you. You eye his limp form slowly, appraising the black hoodie and ripped jeans combination he often gravitated to. He looked good, you had to admit. He always did. Yoongi had the bad boy aesthetic down pat, to the point where it came off as effortless. It wasn’t any wonder as to why girls threw themselves at him during club appearances. If you didn’t know what he was really like (and if he wasn’t dating your friend), you might have tried to bed him too. But you mostly envied Yoongi’s appearance, envied how easy he made dressing and rapping and just about everything look. You were always walking a fine line between putting forth too much effort and being called a try hard bitch or putting forth too little and being accused of looking for a handout. You sighed; being a woman in your industry was tough. “Where’s Hope?”

“DJ owes him money or something. He was pissed.” You shake your head, knowing just how intense an angry Hoseok could be. While you could only count on one hand the amount of times you’d seen him truly filled with rage, each new moment was much more scary than the last. The last time ended with him put in handcuffs, though you were able to talk the cop out of actually taking him to the station. “Not important. You need to do this thing for me.”

“No.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

You snort at the cheesy line he deploys. “I’m telling your fiancée you said that.” Yoongi shrugs, as though he was not at all scared of his lover’s wrath. As much as he claimed to hate the drama of their relationship, he often did nothing to stop it. In fact, you would find him actively stoking the flames. You suspect he gets off on it. “You’re such a dickhead. You know you don’t deserve her, right?”

“Whatever. If you do this thing, I’ll buy you donuts everyday for a week.”

You slam your hands flat on the table in front of you, using the extra stability to lean yourself closer to him. “You buy me donuts everyday for a month, original glazed only, and you pay full price,” you bargain in a low voice. You are fully aware of how ridiculous you look, perched on the table like some low level gangster, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Shame was a feeling no longer within you.

Yoongi scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head before you even finish your proposal. “I have never paid full price here and I’m not gonna start now.”

You push yourself off of your table, throwing your hands up in the air. “Take it or leave it!”

“You don’t even know what I want you to do.”

“Take it or leave it!” You repeat even louder.

Yoongi curses under his breath, knowing he’s caught between a rock and a hard place. He shoots a quick glance behind him, instantly met with the wide expectant eyes of the bakery worker now playing cashier. Looking back at you, he sees you pretending to check your nails—long, pink, and sharp—as though you were bored by him. He scoffs again, wondering why he let his partner drag him into this situation before stating, “Okay, fine. Two donuts, everyday, for a month. Will you do it?”

You smirk, crossing your arms in victory as you lean back in your chair. “Sure. Now what am I doing for you?”

“Going on a date with your hero.”

.

.

Kim Taehyung has had a crush on you for some time now. It was no secret to anyone who frequented the small yellow bakery; he’d been smitten from the first day—or rather night—that you walked into Baking News. You looked like a model as you strut through the building, high waisted leather pants accentuating your curves and cleavage pushed up to ten in a lacy pink crop top. You ordered two original glazed donuts before he could even stutter out the pun filled greeting Seokjin had come up with, smirk settled on your lips as though you knew just how much you affected him. When he gave them to you half off because it was so close to closing, you called him your hero. He thought your voice sounded like honey. Taehyung was caught in a trance the rest of the night night, and quickly found himself being wrapped up in thoughts of you every time you walked through those glass doors.

He’s asked you out a few times. Movies, cafes, museums, and the park were all on the table for you to pick up at any time, but you never did. You had every excuse under the sun for why you couldn’t go out with him; you were always too tired, too busy, too unavailable. It made sense, in some ways. Rappers were like that. Or at least, that’s what he told himself to ease the sting of rejection. He held onto his hope that you would eventually say yes because, in truth, you had never given him a concrete “no”. Attached to every excuse of why you couldn’t go out with him was the promise of a “next time”. That “next time” is what kept him going, kept him giving you half priced glazed donuts even when it wasn’t closing time, kept his attraction to you alive.

Naturally, though, he got tired of waiting. Seeing Seokjin’s relationship flourish right before his eyes only made him want you more. He wished he could sit you on the counter and kiss you until he couldn’t breathe, wished he could bring you to the kitchen and “ice cakes” (if he was using Seokjin’s terminology). Taehyung was tired of being kept at arm's length. He couldn’t understand what he was missing; what you didn’t see in him. He knew you found him attractive. He heard you say it to Yoongi’s girlfriend before, hearing your “definitive ranking of the Baking News men” as he wiped down the table behind you. But attraction clearly wasn’t enough. Not for you, it seemed.

Luck was on Taehyung’s side one sunny Sunday morning in April, when Yoongi’s girlfriend rushed into the shop with an embarrassed look on her face. He had known the girl people affectionately called Boo for years, having gone to college with her and her sister, but they weren’t close. She was much more attached to Jungkook (in spite of her relationship with Yoongi), having spent lots of time outside of the bakery walls with the younger man. Thus, the beeline she made for Taehyung was strange; even stranger was the desperate plea she frantically whispered in his ear asking if he could give her two dozen glazed donuts and two cups of hot chocolate for free.

“You know I can’t do th—”

“Okay, but just lis—”

“Boo, my boss would kill m—

"I will lose the maid of honor at my wedding if you don’t do this for me!” She shouted out in clear cut frustration, only to slap her own hand over her mouth in shock. She looked around the bakery pitifully and, noting all of the eyes trained on her, lowered her voice. “Look, Yoongi and I got into it at the club last night—bad. He threw my wallet somewhere. We couldn’t find it. I’ll pay you back when I get all my new cards, I promise. You know I’m good for it. But if I don’t bring some kind of peace offering to her, she won’t be in the wedding.”

Taehyung’s eyes squinted in confusion. “I don’t get why you need donuts for this friend when you’re fighting with your boyfriend.”

“Well he’s my fiancé  for starters.”

“Sure, sure,” Taehyung responded with an eye roll, motioning his hand for the woman in front of him to continue.

“And… I may have forgotten that I was her ride back home. She ended up walking by herself… in the rain.”

“Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you?” Taehyng chided, now understanding the source of her odd behavior. “I understand why your friend would want to quit your wedding. You’re an asshole.”

“I am not—listen, that's not the point. The point is… I need the donuts and the hot chocolate. That’s the only way I can start getting back on her good side. If I don’t, she’s never gonna talk to me again. She holds a grudge like you wouldn’t believe. She’s worse than Yoongi.”

Taehyung clicked his tongue, not exactly moved by her story, but knowing she wouldn’t take another “no” easily. “Why don’t you ask Jungkook? He won’t get fired, no matter how much he messes up. It’s too high of a risk for me.”

“I would, but she says you’re the only one who makes the hot chocolate right. Something about always putting caramel or cinnamon in there and that Jungkook doesn’t know how to do it. It has to be you.” Taehyung’s throat dried up at her words, understanding that this friend wasn’t just some random girl with a donut obsession; this friend was you.

Taehyung liked working the cafe side of the bakery more than the others. He didn’t hate icing cakes or kneading dough, but he thoroughly enjoyed the interaction that came from making the quick drinks and packaging small desserts. He could also keep his eye on you more easily when working the counter. That’s how he learned that you loved warm, sweet drinks, particularly when you were having a bad day. However, you found the bakery’s hot chocolate missing something; so Taehyung started experimenting with adding extra flavors to your order. When you told him that you liked the vanilla/cinnamon combination the best, he always made sure to add those for you, regardless of if you asked for it specifically or not. He didn’t do this for anyone else though; didn’t care to see anyone else smile the way you did when you lifted the cup to your lips and took a sip. So it had to be you that Yoongi’s girlfriend was talking about, because you were the only person who got special hot chocolate.

“Okay,” Taehyung said, voice confident, “I’ll get the things ready for you now. Should take about five minutes.”

“Wait… really?” The woman asked, a big smile spreading on her face. “Oh my god, I’m so relieved. You are saving my weddin—no, you are saving my life!  I’ll pay you back in like a week, tops. I promise! I’ll even pay extra.”

“You don’t have to pay me back,” Taehyung said quickly, throwing his hands up. “I’ll cover it. Money is not that important. It would be like 15 thousand at most. You don’t need to stress over 15 thousand.”

“Oh,” she responded with a pout, voice deflating. “Well… I can’t do nothing… that would be using you. I’m not Yoongi; I don’t use people. What can I give you to pay you back if not money?” 

Taehyung shrugs, unsure of what the woman in front of him could possibly give him before it dawns on him. “A date.”

“A date? With me?”

He scoffs. “With your friend. Get her to agree to go out with me just once and we’re more than even.” For a moment, Boo looks as though she is going to say no. Taehyung knew it would be a hard sell for you, not only accepting your friend’s apology, but then agreeing to go on a date to pay for that apology. But he can see her resolve strengthen and she gives him a firm nod.

That’s how Taehyung ends up sitting across from you on a chilly Tuesday night, watching you fiddle with the tangled up wires of your earbuds and phone charger. Your studio was small, but brighter than Taehyung anticipated. The walls were white, lit up by pink fairy lights that had small polaroid photos pinned between each bulb. The love seat and rolling desk chair you were currently sitting in were a pale grey color, but held bright pink and yellow throw pillows. On your desk were two white computer monitors, a set of studio monitors, a pink MIDI controller, a black control surface, and a set of rose gold over ear headphones with the word ‘kiddo’ engraved on each side. The whole space was, for lack of a better term, girly. Far girlier than you had ever presented yourself to Taehyung; but, as you told him, the design was on purpose. 

“They’re so dark all the time,” you murmur, followed by a short ‘ah’ as you finally get all the cords untangled and manage to plug in your phone. You turn in your chair to face him, annoyed expression on your face as you continue, “every single one of them have these ugly black walls and stupid pictures of naked girls all over the place. I swear, half of them are hard every time they record. It’s suffocating and awkward. When I finally got the money to get my own studio, I had to make sure the space prioritized my comfort. You know?”

“I do,” Taehyung whispers back in awe. He decides he loves listening to you talk. Your voice was already the sweetest that he had ever heard, but your way with words was even better. The way you put words together always garnered a reaction from him, even if you weren’t trying. It wasn’t any wonder why you became a rapper. “How do the guys in your crew feel when they record here?”

“Hope doesn’t mind it, but everyone else thinks it’s excessive. I get it. It doesn’t fit the whole Kiddo image.”

“Why do they call you Kiddo, anyway? That’s nothing like your real name.” Taehyung asks, placing his elbows on his knees and holding his own face in his hands as he waits patiently for your answer. 

You hum as you think of it, mirroring his pose in your chair and Taehyung didn’t think you could get any cuter than you were now. You were a far cry from the barely there outfits he often saw you wear in the bakery before (or occasionally after) performances, wearing a pink sweater dress that was two sizes too big if the way it swallowed you up was any indication. He just wanted to hold you in his arms, but he wasn’t sure you were there yet. It had only been two hours that he had been in the studio in which you insisted the date take place and you had kept your physical affection to a minimum. At most, you poked his shoulder and cheek when teasing him about the puns he had to say when taking orders at work. However, the conversation flowed so naturally and you hadn’t asked him to leave yet; he was sure the night would end with you feeling something more for him than before.

“You know the movie Kill Bill? The main character’s real name is Beatrix Kiddo.”

“You named yourself after a movie assassin?”

“Oh no. That would be so generic and cliche. Suga actually picked out the name. When I first started out, I was going by something completely different. But I covered this song called "Chill Bill" that got a lot of attention a couple years ago and someone commented that I… I think they said I killed or murdered the beat like Kiddo or something. I can’t really remember the exact thing too well. Anyway, Suga thought that it would be a good voice tag and then the tag became a nickname and… well here we are. I’m Kiddo now.”

“Can I listen to the song that inspired the name?”

You sit up abruptly. “Hell no. That song is awful. I’m so much better now.”

“You can’t invite me to your studio and not let me listen to your music. Be a better date,” he teases, causing you to release a small giggle. “You have to let me listen to something at least. What are you working on?”

You shake your head with a small smirk, turning back to face your desk. Your hand grips the mouse and you click around on one of the screens as you move to pull up your latest song. However, you still question him, asking, “Are you sure you want to listen? It’s kind of raunchy.”

“I can handle it.”

“My lyrics aren’t for the faint of heart, Taehyung.”

“Give it to me,” he requests excitedly and you instantly press play. He lets out a loud laugh as soon as he hears the lyrics, instantly understanding their intent even though they are in English. Your warning was more than necessary, as you spit out graphic depictions of sexual acts in a cocky tone of voice. The dichotomy of your current appearance with the words coming out of the speakers only makes him laugh harder, as his brain fails to connect the two personas together.

You stop the song, turning to face him with a shocked look on your face. “Are you really laughing at my music? Seriously?”

“No, no!” He chokes out, waving his hands in the air to show his innocence as his laughter winds down into sporadic giggles. “It’s not like that. I don’t think it’s bad. I’m just surprised by it.” He can tell from the look on your face that you don’t believe him. And Taehyung isn’t sure what comes over him in that moment, but he suddenly finds himself rocking forward to cradle your face in both of his hands as though he was handling fine china. You tense in his grasp, but make no moves to pull away as he whispers, “Don’t look at me like that. I wouldn’t lie to you. The song is good. You just look so much… softer than that song right now. It caught me off guard; but I would never laugh at you. I like you too much to do that.”

His sincerity has you reeling. Although he stopped speaking, he doesn’t let you go. Instead, his eyes study your face like you’re a piece of artwork, committing every new detail he finds to memory as though he’s worried that he’ll never see you again. His eyes finally settle on your lips, becoming lidded as you are able to guess what he wants. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” You question quietly.

“I want to. Are you going to let me?”

“Yes.” He gives you two slow blinks before he bends his head down to slot his lips against yours. 

It’s soft at first, the gentle pressure of his lips coaxing your own open as though he’s still asking for permission. When you angle your head up to move your lips against his better, he lets out a small whimper that sends a shiver up your spine. It continues on like this for a few seconds before he slips tongue inside of your mouth. All hell breaks loose within you then, as you wrap your arms around his neck to get closer to him. This act causes him to finally release your face, hands dropping to your waist. The kiss gets deep, tongues wrestling with each other as he fights against you to take the lead. When the struggle continues for longer than he would like, his hands firmly grip your waist and pull you forward off of your chair until you're straddling his thighs. He wins the battle when he pulls your hips down at the same time that he grinds his hips up. The friction is more intense than you were prepared for, only then remembering the only barrier between your center and his jeans was a thong you had slipped on in haste. He repeats the action once more before pulling away with a big gasp for breath. You rest your forehead against his as you take in deep breaths of your own. You make note of his expression—satisfaction. 

“So is this date as bad as you imagined it being?” He whispers against your lips, fingers running up and down your back gently as he breathing finally calms.

You pout at his question. “Why would you ask that?”

“You avoided it for so long.”

“I… I was… I don’t know,” you stutter out, unsure of how to respond to the call out. It’s hard to think when the room is so hot, when he’s still so close to you, when his crotch is still pressed firmly against your own. “I just didn’t… wanna make things awkward?”

“Are things awkward now?”

“Not really. No.”

“So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“About dating me.”

“You ask a lot of questions, Kim Taehyung. It’s been one date.”

“I just know what I want,” he responds seriously, voice dropping an octave as he makes eye contact with you and holds your stare. “I like you. I like you more now than I did before. I want you. Do you want me too?”

“I… yeah. I guess I like you too. We can… Let’s see where this goes.”

.

.

“Here.” 

You jump up to your feet at the sound of a familiar deep voice. Looking up, you’re met with the sight of a pink cardboard cup wrapped up in pale, ring clad fingers. “You came,” you note, reaching for the cup as you get your first real look at Taehyung that night. He easily lets you have it, hand slipping behind your neck to pull you into for a quick hug. He releases you with a kiss to your temple, a lazy smile sitting on his face that you admittedly find more attractive than you should. You often found yourself wishing that he wasn’t so outwardly handsome; dealing with an attractive partner always causes issues.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” He questions. You shrug. Taehyung was easily the most attentive person you ever dealt with. You woke up to emoji filled good morning texts every morning and didn’t hit your bed without a sweet phone call wishing you a good night. He commented on every picture you posted to Instagram, was five minutes early to every date, and sent food to your studio when he knew you were too busy to eat something real. You would have felt suffocated by his intensity if not for the lackadaisical way he went about being with you: most dates ending on his old couch, watching mind numbing TV shows as he cradled you in his arms to talk about nothing. He made you feel precious and that worried you. You were left wondering how he would treat you when he finally realized you weren’t worth your weight in gold.

“What’s this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Why?”

“Boo told me you were stressing.”

“Does this have cinnamon and vanilla in it?”

He rolls his eyes at you in a mock display of annoyance. “Doesn’t it always?”

“My hero,” you coo gently at him, voice upping in pitch as though you were speaking to a child. He doesn’t mind your patronizing tone, responding with a megawatt smile that would make even the most stoic person happy. You take a small sip, letting out a small breath some of the tension you were feeling begins to melt away.

“What were you doing back here?” Taehyung asks, concern pulling at the edges of his words, despite how casual he attempted to sound. He was never good at hiding his emotions when it came to you. You liked that. He never left you guessing at where you stood with him.

“Hiding,” you answer honestly, not ashamed of your actions. You had been crouched behind the club for at least twenty minutes, going over your lyrics and the performance blocking in your head again and again. Rehearsals hadn’t gone well, with Hoseok’s nerves shot due to the knowledge that his favorite producer would be in the building and Yoongi still pissed about some argument he had gotten into with his girlfriend. You also weren’t at your best, anxious about having Taehyung in the audience. He had seen videos of you performing before, but he had never been in the audience. You didn’t know what he would think of the environment and the people that it attracted. He claimed he didn’t scare easy, but everybody did.

“Hiding from what?”

“Just people. You know how I feel about people.”

“You must be glad I’m not just people then, huh?” He joked, hand sneaking over to yours and lacing your fingers together. You let out a non-committal hum that has him tightening his grip in faux warning. “Stop pretending that you don’t like me.”

“What time is it?”

He looks at his watch. “11:34.”

“I’m on in like 40 minutes,” you told him, moving forward to pull him to the front of the club. He lets you lead him, submitting to you more easily than most men would in his situation. Whereas many of the men who found themselves lucky enough to get close to you tried to wear you like an accessory, molding you against their form to make them appear more interesting than they were, Taehyung found solace staying in the background. It was nice.

“There you are!” Hoseok yells as you approach, his voice far higher in pitch than what was normal even for him. He stands in the center of your crew, wearing a distressed look on his face as he scolds you with the same intensity of an overworked stay-at-home mom. “We go up soon. Where have you been?”

“Hiding.”

“Not the fucking time for hiding dumbass,” he snaps at you, making Yoongi laugh. 

The palm of your hand disconnects from Taehyung’s and lands on Hoseok’s chest with a loud thwap before you can blink. The following five hits are more deliberate though, punctuating your words as you shout, “Don’t call me a dumbass!” Hoseok lets out rough grunts at the hits, responding with a harsh shove that sends you flying back into Taehyung. You let out a snarky laugh.

It had taken Taehyung some time to get used to this aspect of your relationship with your friends. They all treated you as though you were one of the guys, pushing and shoving you around with glee in spite of the fact that some of them were much bigger than you. You always matched their energy though, whether physically or verbally. You never backed down, which is why they seemed to respect you. Still, it was hard for Taehyung to watch you roughhouse with them. He was afraid there would be a day it would go too far, although you were adamant that you could always handle yourself.

“Alright now, children, let’s calm down,” Yoongi said in a condescending tone. “We have to work soon, no fighting on stage.”

“Are you ready?” Hoseok asks, ignoring Yoongi’s words.

“Are you ready?” You parrot back, much to his clear annoyance. “I’m not the one who forgot my lyrics today. Are you ready?”

“Let’s just go inside,” Yoongi groaned out, making his way towards the entrance of the club in a way that demanded everyone else follow suit. 

A VIP section of tables is where you lead Taehyung, sitting him down in a seat next to Yoongi’s girlfriend. “You should be able to see us really well from here,” you note, playing with the rings that adorn his fingers. “Nobody should mess with you either. If they do, tell her,” you instruct, nodding your head towards your friend currently having her own private discussion with Yoongi, “because she’s worse than me.”

“I heard that!” The girl in question yells back. You roll your eyes and press your lips quickly against Taehyung’s own before you make your way to the stage. “Oh fuck, who invited them?” The woman sitting next to him mutters angrily, pointedly staring at three men who walk into the section and take a seat at a table adjacent to where Taehyung is seated. He doesn’t recognize them, though it’s clear from the way others in the section tense up that they aren’t welcome guests. He makes a decision to ignore them, focusing his attention on the stage where a DJ continues to play popular hip hop songs from abroad. 

Suddenly, the lights on the stage brighten up and the music comes to a stop. The DJ begins hyping up the crowd for the upcoming performance and Taehyung is stunned at the amount of excitement people show when your name is mentioned. It multiplies ten fold when a spotlight finally highlights your place on the stage and the performance begins. He’s mesmerized. You handle yourself well. You seem to know exactly when to draw attention to yourself and when to step back and let the others shine. It’s clearly calculated, but you make it look easy. It’s hard for all eyes not to be on you, though. You’re the only woman on stage and the hot pink crop top you’ve chosen to wear makes you stick out amongst the rest of your crew dressed in all black. When you happily dance around Hoseok as a distraction to make the man stutter out his lyrics, Taehyung can’t help but laugh.  

“She’s good, right?” A voice asks, forcing Taehyung’s attention away from you. Next to him stands a large man, muscled arms crossed at his chest and covered in black tattoos. He holds an unimpressed gaze as he stares at the stage, as though he’s seen it all before. “He freaks out everytime she pulls that little stunt. He’s so whipped for her. She needs to just fuck the poor bastard already.”

“Excuse me?” Taehyung asks at the same time that Yoongi’s girlfriend shouts, “Why are you over here?”

“Calm down, Boo,” the man states with a light chuckle, eyes still on the stage. “Just here to support my girl.” The man then turns his gaze to Taehyung, “But I guess she’s your girl now, right? I see you all over her Instagram and Twitter. You must be really giving it to her good. She never posts about who she’s fucking.” Taehyung tenses at the man’s words, but does not offer up a response. The man looks back towards the stage with an amused laugh. “Didn’t think she would fuck pretty boys though. Her type is a little more… tough.”

He knows he’s being tested. It has happened more than once. As much as the guys you hung around pretended that they didn’t care about your dating life, they were actually extremely protective over you. There were endless threats whispered into his ear when he found himself in your studio during actual recording sessions. It never bothered him, though. He found it a bit heartwarming that men who would push you down to get the last piece of chicken would also fight for you so easily. But this was different. The man standing beside Taehyung eyes you like a predator stalking prey. It makes Taehyung’s skin crawl.

The performance ends with a bang, the energy in the room still electric as you make your way off the stage. The pride painted on your face as you are stopped by various people in the crowd warms Taehyung’s heart. It’s the happiest that he has ever seen you. You and the guys practically bounce back into the section, still riding the high of a successful performance. However, your happy steps slow to a crawl when you realize who is standing next to him. Of course the one person you didn’t want to see would find his way over to Taehyung. You could see the agitation in Taehyung’s face as the two exchanged words.

Sensing your apprehension, Hoseok throws his arm around your neck happily, leaning most of his body weight on you. “I can punch him if you want,” Hoseok offers lazily, as though it would be all too easy. It would, but you knew that the aftermath wouldn’t be pretty. “If your pretty boy won’t do it, I mean. It’s been a while since we’ve been in a real fight.”

You shudder slightly under his hold as you remember exactly what happened the last time you got into a fight. Hoseok was still banned from two clubs over that incident. “Calm down, Hope. I don’t wanna get kicked out of another club.”

“No fun,” he whispers in your ear. “Are you gonna go in there and save him?” You release an annoyed scoff at the idea because it’s nowhere near your job to rescue a grown man. “I wonder what they’re talking about,” Hoseok muses. “If I had to guess? Probably your weird bathroom sex kin—oof!” You cut him off with an elbow to the ribs, sighing in relief as he removes himself from you. “Go get your boyfriend before he’s not your boyfriend anymore, asshole.”

“Fine.” You make an effort to straighten your back and set your shoulders back before you start the short journey to where Taehyung is seated next to your ex. You slip your arm through Taehyung’s when you make your way there, only mildly surprised by how quickly he tangles his long fingers through your own and pulls you closer. You ex smirks at the interaction, pleased by the effect he had. “Hey,” you say much more confidently than you feel. 

“Well if it isn’t our favorite girl,” your ex barks out happily, throwing you a wink. You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Me and your friend here were just talking about you.” Taehyung quietly grunts at the word ‘friend’ beside you, but neither of you make a move to correct the person standing in front of you. You knew responding to the minor dig would only further feed his ego. “We both had a lot to say.”

“Only nice things, I hope?” You ask, your question pointed more at Taehyung. The boy offers you a reassuring smile in return causing you to let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You could only imagine the things that had been said, both true and untrue.

“I was telling your new friend here all of the things we used to do together. He couldn’t believe how wild you used to be. I’m so surprised by how much you’re holding back on him, love. That’s so unlike you.”

“Don’t call me love,” you respond almost robotically. It had become an automatic response to his continued usage of the pet name in recent months. In actuality it had been years since you were with the heavily tattooed man, but Taehyung had no way of knowing that. Past relationships were one of the few topics both of you agreed to stay away from. It would only cause more problems.

“Don’t exaggerate for my benefit,” Taehyung suddenly speaks up, eyeing the man thoughtfully.

“Hmm?” The man hums out.

“Lying is only gonna make you look like more of an asshole.”

“You wish I was lyi—” Before the man can finish his retort, you hear your name being screamed out over the thumping bass of the music. Turning your head, you see a red faced Hoseok running towards you. 

Concern is etched on his features as he rushes out, “We gotta go.” He keeps shifting from left to right like he’s ready to escape from the confines of the roped off section at the drop of a dime. “Yoongi threw a couple bottles and the managers are not happy.”

“He threw a whole bottle?” Taehyung asks in shock at the same time as you shout, “He threw more than one? Again? Fuck me! Why?” Your ex laughs loudly at the news, himself having been a part of a few bottle throwings when he was with you.

“The same reason they always get us kicked out of places,” Hoseok explains with a frustrated eye roll. “You think at this point he would stop inviting exes to shows. Let the rejects stay where they are, right?” Taehyung snorts at Hoseok’s pointed insult towards your ex. You give him a grateful smile for the diss. “Anyways, we gotta leave before they ask for their money back. This gig is paying for my new equipment.”

“Noted.” You tug Taehyung up out of his seat quickly, before turning to your ex one last time. “We gotta go. It was not nice seeing you. Die.” Then the three of you quickly make you way out of the club before things can get even more tense.

The couple is still arguing outside when you exit the venue, Yoongi’s hand firmly wrapped around your best friend’s wrist as she screams at him to let her go. Yoongi’s knuckles are bleeding and you wonder if he cut himself on the glass or punched a wall again. You know better than to ask at this moment. Trying to stop them was a recipe for a disaster. “Fuck this. I’m going home,” Hoseok says frustratedly. He turns to you, forcing a hopeful expression as he asks,“See ya tomorrow?”

“Yup. Don’t be late.” Hoseok nods at you twice and winks at Taehyung before he crosses the street and disappears into the night. 

“Does this always happen?” Taehyung asks suddenly, eyes still on the couple as Yoongi starts to yell back about who actually crossed the line. Taehyung knew that they fought, but he never understood the extent of it. Seeing it in person was a completely different ball game.

“Every single time we go to a club,” you say with a shrug, dropping the hold you have on his hand. “Perks of dating a rapper, I guess. Relationships don’t do well in this environment.” Taehyung’s eyes snap to you at the implication of his words.

“But Yoongi and his girl have been together for years right? It can’t be all bad.”

“And they fight all the time. She breaks up with him constantly. I mean, she’s been my friend for longer than she’s known him and it’s still hard for her to handle all of,” you stop, waving your hand around the wannabe rap boys dressed in baggy clothes, the club, and the drunk girls stumbling down the block before continuing, “all of this. And it only gets worse the more popular you get. No one really wants to deal with this.”

“I do,” he says, not even taking the time to consider your words. “I think I could handle it.”

You eye him carefully, cocking your head to the side as you formulate a response. The truth of your lifestyle was a bitter pill to swallow. Love was often the first casualty of Hip Hop, whether rappers liked to admit it or not. You weren’t sure if your words would ruin the good thing you had going with him. “Taehyung, you saw my ex. All that animosity between us comes from him being insanely jealous of the people around me. He couldn’t handle it.”

“I’m better than your ex.”

“Okay, but it’s not just jealousy that comes with this. Do you really think you could handle guys constantly hitting on me? Slapping my ass on stage? Calling me a whore in diss tracks? Trying to spike my drinks or give me drugs?”

Taehyung moves to wrap his arms around your waist, pressing the front of your body against his own. He sways gently with you in his arms, pressing soft kisses to your forehead as he thinks. Finally he settles on, “For you, I could handle all of that and more.” He pulls away from you slightly to stare into your eyes deeply, before leaning into to press a kiss against your lips. He pulls back once more to whisper against your lips, “I just want to be with you. I don’t care about the rest.”

“Hmm… you really are my hero.”

.

.

authors note— there will be a continuation of this couple’s story called jawbreaker released later this month. jawbreaker was originally meant to be a part of more than you can chew, but it ballooned past what i imagined and i need more time to finish. hope you enjoyed this and will read jawbreaker when it’s released.