#and by share it I mean. first chapter on tumblr. the rest in the book?

[ejunkiet]

hi hello i’m LOVING the updates on ropes and fangs and I really can’t wait to see where this project takes you (already the growth in writing from the first snippet to the one you just posted aarargagarg i could go off about how much ur style has evolved but but that’s not truly why i’m here)

what advice would you give to someone who really wants to branch out into writing “homebrew” work who really has only written fan work. where would u recommend posting or how? if you have Any Idea of who Else I could bother about this pls let me know

I’ve been wanting to post some of my more original work for a series I’ve been writing but I just. Don’t Know How (fan work is already something I struggle with cause I can’t seem to write anything that means to someone else what it means for me)

jfhdask BLESS you, moth; your timing is impeccable, as I was working on r&f this morning >:3 <33

so. ADVICE. You've been writing Homebrew Blorbos, and you want to get other people interested in them. The first thing I will say, is that it is hard, and it will always be hard. getting people invested in your worlds/characters takes work, and without the fandom platform, it's difficult to direct traffic your way in the first place. i.e. ao3 has an original fiction category which is good for hosting a work you don't want to publish, but it's not as if people follow that tag there.

I love reading original work, but I need one of two things to get me to read it: one, I love the author's fanwork and want to read more of their writing (if I love your fic, I will read your book okay); and two, the concept itself is interesting / what I'm looking for -- but for that, I need to find it first.

so. how do you get traffic your way?

tumblr is a good means for advertising. so. there are online writing communities on tumblr that only write original work, and only write the kinds of things I'm interested in reading. it's how I found a few authors whose books I've bought >:3 my advice is to look into tags that contain the same themes / dynamics of your original work, and see how other people are posting their work / talking about their work, and what gets the most traffic. learn from others!

I won't be posting large sections of my original work on tumblr, because once something is out there, it's out there. people can and do steal fiction and self publish it on amazon. also, as much as I love tumblr, it's not a good place for publishing full works, as it's clunky as hell, and posts older than a month vanish into the nether.

so you need to decide what your want to do with your original work. will it become a book? will you post it as an online serial, and then rework this first draft into a book? (like the gabe and odessa fic!) aside from tumblr (which has a thriving short story / serial story community), ao3 (for fic hosting) and amazon (you can publish your story as a serial there, although it's US restricted, and difficult to get noticed amidst the crowd), I don't know really of any other good original fiction hosting platforms aside from self publishing.

(real publishing is a nightmare, and if that's your goal, kudos to you! I know a few authors in fandom going that route for different genres, and they are incredible writers, but breaking through is goddamn difficult.)

but if you just want people to read it, and give you feedback, then talk about it!! post snippets / chapters, talk about the characters, utilise the tags on tumblr and ao3 to find people with similar interests.

...one thing I will say though, as a final note, is from what I've seen, the quality of original work by people not in fandom <<<< people in fandom. you've had years of practice writing characters and scenes, and once you make that leap into original work, you're pretty much set <3

[chihoshisai]

Double Arrangement

Sabo x Reader

Part 1 Part 2

cw : royalty au, strangers to lovers, arranged/political engagement, reader is royalty, sabo is cold (but will warm up over time), fem reader // wc : 2.7k // A/N : Chapter was originally 7k words but has been cut in half because I judged it too long for tumblr, so part four will be longer

Part 3

“Reduce the budget set aside for the ball, and the volume of dishes as well,” you told your elder brother. Having found your way into his office — furnished with more books than furniture, large windows and an overall navy blue color—  without seeing the need of an appointment due to your familial bonds, you watched as he stopped scribbling to give you an imposing look. He seemed to give you a moment to reconsider your words and take them back had they been spoken out of folly, and though you felt intimidated by his silent pressure you maintained your ground.

After some time had passed and he conceded to your determination, he asked rather darkly. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

The pen he had been holding got placed down, and his hands intertwined, signifying he now was according you his full attention. “What is your reasoning behind such a request?”

“I would like for us to take into consideration the likings of my fiance.”

He gave a rather offending scoff. “Does that include for the royal family to appear foolish as well?” His gaze on you remained sharp even while the ridicule of his words sent a puff of shame to your cheeks.

“Surely you jest.”

“Unfortunately dear sister the castle has a certain face and decorum to maintain. Surely your beloved can understand that?” He brought his chin to rest on the back of his joined hands, giving you silent instructions through his face to let the truth reach, and convince, your fiance.

You shook your head, standing your ground. “And as the trendsetter of the kingdom, we can also encourage and set a model for the nobles to follow. One that involves the decrease of abundant waste.” Your desire to appear more than a figurehead reflected not only in your immovable posture, but also through the beating of your heart, wishing to win your plea.

“It will not be easy.”

“Oh please,” you blinked to hide an eyeroll. “We all know everything is mostly for wealth display and no one ever eats that amount of food anyways. You're not powerless either and can make it happen.”

Your brother narrowed his gaze. “What is the reason behind your insistence? Is all well between you and your fiance?”

A pause occurred in which you pursed your lips, memories painting the blank canevas of your mind. “All will be if you do as I ask of you. Might I remind you, the event isn’t only about me after all.”

He sighed while shaking his head, but finally by the look of his untensing shoulders, he seemed to give in. “If we proceed, a valuable reason must be given to convince the nobles of the display.”

At the hearing of his words, you had to suppress your glee. “Say the union between royal and noble isn’t about showing off the wealth of one but balancing both on the same pedestal.”

Your brother mused on the idea for a second. “The family in question might find offense in this,” he gave as a last resort rebuttal.

You thought back on their words and ungrateful behavior towards a gift many would have appreciated and found value in. “Their problem, not mine,” you waved your hand as though their opinion was benign. “I don’t care as long as this will satisfy the one that matters.”

“Fine,” a compromising sigh heaved itself from his lips. “What more do you have in mind?”

You grinned, taking further steps towards his desk to partake in the sharing of your ideas, a slight nerve tingling down your stomach.

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

The castle busied itself beyond usual on the said morning — you were the first child to be engaged, first of the kingdom to soon administer such news to the populace. As such, it holded a rather significant meaning necessitating grand preparations, which you had personally asked to turn down a notch. As you heard the clamor and running steps of staff, the whispers of the maids, it dawned upon you that no one would criticize or point blame in your direction for holding such a downgraded ceremony. And you felt bad for your brother who shouldered the nation on his shoulders, therefore thinking of making it up to him someday.

Modesty was what you envisioned, what brought you to stroll down the gilded corridors of your mansion, towards the location of the event and to witness the fruit of your scheming. A secret meddling in which you had faith your brother would have upheld, considering he had never failed you once in the past. 

It was nearing midday, a time in which preparations were nearing their end and in which your liberty lasted before the excruciating hours of bodily prepping and glamoring for the ball happened. Finding the excitement of a child, you skipped, not without proper respect, over servants and flight of stairs to reach the main floor and ultimately the ballroom. 

What you saw, much in increase to the tying knot of your insides, your heart and your breathing, was… dumbfounding. Defeat was what you felt, while your eyes circled over many rows of yet to be lit chandeliers, falling from the ceiling like golden jewels when you had asked a single one to be placed in the center of the room. Horror choked you, when amidst those were encircled the signature wisteria flowers of the garden, with promises of soft fragrances throughout the night.

The worst of it all, what caused you to feel lightheaded and zydizziness, sharp and ruthless in its provoking your suppress anger, was not the amount of tables set, for they were the same as you instructed, but the lining of the nappe used. Its lace linen, far more detailed and precise, done by handy crafting skills that must have taken an eternity to unjustly paid workers, the bows attached to hang as a need for details and it's overall palette matching the golden beige of the room with subtle lilac flowers to reflect the colors cascading from overhead.

This was, truly was not what was previously agreed upon. After your eyes had analyzed the room with your chest heaving in an anxious way, they scavenged the personnel present for the traitor who had allowed this foolery. 

He was there; your brother — standing further in the midst of the room, his lavish clothing allegorating his importance next to the servants he spoke with, and finding place next to the similar garments of your mother. 

Seeing her, you quelled your rising anger, fearing a stern reprimand and coldly let the sounds of your heels announce your arrival.

“Sister, you're here,” your brother greeted with a well hidden guilty face.

You clenched your jaw, returning politeness through gritted teeths. “Mama. Brother.” 

“How do you like it?” Your mother looked you dead in the eyes, giving you a faint smile, leaving you self-conscious of the feelings that were currently suppressing themselves inside you. She wanted without a doubt for you to feel your happiest and satisfied with things.

“It’s more detailed than I expected,” you gave her a stiff, forced smile. One that you gave whenever you felt empathetic of her feelings.

“Well of course, dear child,” she waved your remark with a shroud hand. “It is a ball, it must look as such. You wouldn't have believed the state of the room when I first got in. It looked quite drab.”

The comment landed on your heart rather bitterly and with no words left to offer, you gave a chuckle. 

“Isn't it about time you went on to prepare yourself?” She pointed out, joining her hands together in a stout manner to look at your attire.

You nodded, refuting her words far from being a possibility. “Before that, could I have a word with his Majesty?” You purposefully called your brother by his title, a silent threat that had not failed to stiffen his shoulders.

“Of course, I will leave you children to it,” your mother gave a slight smile, feeling happy of the celebration no doubt, before she trailed away to further attend to the room's composition.

Once out of earshot, you shot an angry glare at your brother. “This is not what we agreed on,” you whispered viciously, tilting on your heels to face him.

He, making no attempt to show emotions on his face, returned a devoid expression by staring away from your eyes. “As you can see, mother's had a hand in it. There wasn't much I could do once it came to it.”

You pressed your joined palms until a sharp pain prevented you from losing the grip on your temper. “I came to you so this could be avoided.”

“Count yourself lucky sister, this is the best she could do with the budget restriction. And even then, for a ball thrown by the royal family it still falls under the label of simple.” He gave you a look, one that impelled you to shut it and accept facts as they were.

Yet, frustration still swelled inside you like a ripped apple, and as it spread you couldn't stop your tongue from running. “For God's sake, you're the king.” The words left as a high ushered whisper.

“And she's our mother,” he harshly spat in your face, startling you enough to recoil your neck to the back. “I did my part as best I could and you are welcomed,” he heaved a dry sigh to the side. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have a list of tasks awaiting me other than dolling myself up for hours.” 

Your elder brother walked past you, exposing you to stand amidst the room, laying bare, bitter and out of options. Refusing to cast suspicion on yourself after your talk, you turned your heels away, making sure not to cause eye contact with another soul in the room and exited its vicinity. 

There was nothing to be done, your brother had been right in the sense that defying your mother would be as easy as seeking immortality. Therefore, with tainted red feelings as companions, you coursed through the palace, your expression grim all the way to your room. Your sole consolation was, perhaps with enough convincing, that Sabo would come to believe you if you claimed to have arranged for things to be otherwise.

If your words were your consolation, you realized, as the door of your chambers trapped you inside with its closing, that you still retained power — no one could enforce an attire on you. Not your brother, nor your mother who had, after many years of proven worth, allowed you the choosing of your gowns at your own discretion. 

As such, when your lady-in-waiting and maids came to fuss over you upon your entering, a smile had found its way on your face. 

But not for long — many times in the past, ever since the first crack of dawn broke through the sky, punctual in its glowing duty, you had been forced, dragged, entailed to sit through a full prepping routine. This time was no different, if only for the hour of the day. By prepping we’re talking massages, haircare and skincare. Every inch of your body, from the thinnest strands of hair to the nails of your toes was touched, handled, with attention and care meticulously.. 

If not for your position requiring for you to be handheld, like the nurturing of a garden by others since birth, you probably would have felt overstimulated — there was no need for you to lift a finger, as you let yourself lay about, giving idle thanks to the perhaps honest compliment of your staff. This time, the endless routine was what bothered you more than feeling the dry, moist or damp hands of your selected personnel. Laying down for a facemask while a pedicure was being done, bathing in a rose and citrus scented bath, sitting for a scalp massage; it never ended nor did you see its necessity. Rather you doubted it, shuddering at mental images you formed of Sabo had you the willpower to tell him of your day. For that reason, it would undoubtedly remain as a hidden fact, even if he did suspect how much water, products and whatnot was used, lost, wasted. 

You couldn't hide the results of the ballroom, but your own self-care was different.

By the time the ginger colors of dusk warmly embraced your room, a reminder to the time to come, you stood; detailed undergarments on your shoulders awaiting for the final piece of clothing to be brought.

“Are you sure about this dress, your highness?” One of your maids asked, holding the item in question in a way that revealed its full length. A satin pastel lilac ankle length dress, detailed with short puff sleeves and golden flower embroidery on its core. It was a simple dress, one that wouldn't entice a second look your way. One unfit for a ball, let alone royalty. 

“Yes. Put it on me please,” you had, with Sabo's taste in mind, chosen it for its modest aspect. And to your eyes, it didn't fail to strike you as pretty. In fact it would, were it worn for another occasion. 

Your maid did as ordered ; slipping the fabric with ease on your body, attaching a simple white pearl necklace decorated with a metallic golden bow,  placing similarly colored Huggies earrings and a brooch attached to the side of your hair.  

After the fitting of lilac heels, your prepping had come to an end, much to your relief and the fragrant way in which your muscles relaxed under your skin despite your growing anxiety. You stood in front of your mirror, turning only your neck to scrutinize the final result — the impersonating of a lowly born noble daughter at best was the image exuded. 

However, it didn't register as such to your mind, instead thinking whether the golden embroidery might have been a notch too much and would displease Sabo. Worse have him criticize your taste. Lost in your musing, you ignored the subtle silent fretting of your maids that lined up in a corner of the room, frankly aware that your current attire far from undermined all you had ever worn.

What came to interrupt your moment, was the knocking on your door. You turned your head momentarily from the mirror, feeling the beat of your heart increase for you knew who stood behind it. “Come,” you commanded loudly.

Seeing your mother enter, you returned your attention to the mirror, her silence broken only by the clacking sound of her heels. Your years of experience told you that the longer it lasted, the angrier she was or worse, the backlash would be.

She circled you like a hawk, her eyes piercing layers of thick skins, edging you to falter. “Is this your way of opposing this mariage?” She asked, having stopped to stand on your left, her gaze ever so burning you.

“I would never dare do such a thing,” you kept your look straight, staring only at yourself in the mirror.

“Frugality has no such place at a ball,” her words, uttered dryly, seemed to have dried along the air entering and exuding from your lungs. 

“Call it simplicity, mama.”

She surprised you, only enough to compel you to look at her from the mirror, by scoffing at your claim. “Simplicity? I will not let you embarrass yourself,” she spoke sternly.

At this, having not found her support, you broke free from the spell of the mirror to face her. “What else can they do but gossip? Let them if they want to,” you spoke briefly of the guests without care. “Is this ball not in honor of my engagement mother? I at least wish to wear what I want,” your chest heaved from the air it had finally found.

“How stubborn you have grown,” she looked you up and down rather pitifully. “Yet still remains a child,” she looked away to step aside to face the servants. “Mount her hair in an updo with more accessories.”

“Mama—”

“It is a command,” she gravely looked at you, much to shroud the voice in your throat. “Add braids to her hair, perhaps it will help salvage the mess,” she ordered towards the staff, before giving you a last look. “Let lessons be learned tonight if necessary.”  

This time, she excused herself completely from the room, the closing of the door resonating like the drums of insecurity that roused deep from your stomach. There was no doubt you had disappointed her, and yet, maybe out of pity or mercy, she had let you do as you pleased; not forcing you to change out your gown. You stared at the door, dreading what would await you beyond its path following the first objective reaction you had received.

“Princess, we must do your hair by order of the Queen Dowager,” one of your servants politely asked of you. 

You nodded, with no better choice but to obey.

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | one

🐴Chapter summary: You arrive back at the ranch, a place you used to call home as a child. But it doesn’t hold the same meaning anymore. With the passing of your mother, you stand to inherit part of that very ranch– and you don’t want it. Only problem, your sister doesn’t want to give you her signature for you to sell your share. 🐴Chapter title: Inheritance 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: mention of past character death of parents, exhibitionism, explicit smut in the form of protected sex, quick and dirty sex, doing it against a barn, creampie, nipple play, clit play. Doing it in public / outside. Mention of past infidelity (of parents). Spoiler ahead!!! Jungkook and Jimin are (half) brothers and reader sleeping with JK is necessary to happen for the sake of the plot 🥲 It sucked to write that part, and if you feel like the smut if ‘eh’ it’s because it was written that way because reader isn’t meant to be with JK! So, please, don’t let that discourage you from reading it, the rest of the story is really good and MC realizes she’s made a mistake… anyway the smut with Jimin when it eventually happen, is just 🥵🥵🥵 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 8.2k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog @kiki-zb @babejinnie @ownthesunshine @allie-is-a-panda @glllhjh @bergandysam @13-manggaetteok

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Theme from McLeod’s Daughters” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: this story has been in my head forever, and I’ve spent months outlining it and planning it– so I’m so stoked to finally post it! 🥳 I love both McLeod’s Daughters and BTS, so why not combine it?? I am not sure anybody will read this story, but if you do, thank you! It truly means the world to me. 

I also want to give a very big thank you and shout out to my dear friend, Lua, for reading it while I worked on it, hyping me up and giving me such fucking wonderful feedback 😭✨ Thank you so much @letjungcoook7 💖🥹

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

“I said, I wanna touch the earth I wanna break it in my hands I wanna grow something wild and unruly I wanna sleep on the hard ground In the comfort of your arms On a pillow of bluebonnets In a blanket made of stars Oh, it sounds good to me I said, cowboy take me away Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue Set me free, oh, I pray” - “Cowboy Take Me Away” by The Chicks

The tires of your car dig into the unforgiving dirt road with a tenacious grip as you navigate the rugged terrain. A symphony of sand and dust dances before the windshield, yet your focus remains unyielding. The landscape is open and inviting, yet there’s tall mountains in the distance framing the idyllic nature. 

The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the vehicle, echoing the determination coursing through your veins. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, your resolve unshakable. 

Amidst the chaotic whirlwind outside, you're on a singular quest: to get your sister’s signature to sell your share of the ranch.

You yearn to sever all ties with the place. 

It's not a matter of hatred, per se, but rather an aversion steeped in memories you'd rather forget. 

The grounds echo with a tapestry of recollections, most of which cling like shadows to the recesses of your mind—a gallery of moments you're desperate to erase from the canvas of your past.

The passing of your mother, a woman absent from your life for over two decades, casts a melancholic hue over this reunion, that leaves much to be desired.

Separated by the passage of years, your sister remains a distant specter on the horizon of your past. A chapter of familial connection was abruptly closed when your father took you away from the ranch during your formative years, the sprawling fields replaced by the relentless rhythm of the city. 

The city, with its towering structures and ceaseless energy, has woven itself into the fabric of your existence. Amidst the hustle, the stress, the eclectic cafes, and the teeming crowds, you've found a peculiar treasure trove of experiences that pulse through your veins like a vibrant heartbeat. The city's flaws, laid bare like urban scars, only deepen your affection for its complex tapestry, making each chaotic street corner and neon-lit club a cherished fragment in the mosaic of your life.

As an undesired song infiltrates your playlist, you find yourself questioning its very existence on your curated soundtrack. 

Swiftly, you dismiss its intrusion, replacing its notes with the growling intensity of a much angrier anthem. 

The need for focus on this mission is paramount, an unyielding commitment that not even the persuasive tones of Jessi, with all her influence, can sway or alter.

A familiar sign with your family’s last name emerges on the horizon, unleashing a flood of memories from an idyllic childhood—filled with the echoes of hide-and-seek, the warmth of love, and the harmonious symphony of laughter—that paints both your irises and your heart in hues of nostalgia. 

Yet, as your fingers instinctively clench around the steering wheel, you staunchly refuse to be swayed by the emotional undertow. Determination courses through your veins, a steadfast resolve not to let sentiment cloud the clarity of your purpose.

With a resolute spirit, you navigate the winding road that leads to the ranch. 

As the familiar landscape unfurls before you, a creeping uneasiness takes root within the recesses of your being. Despite the passage of two decades, the ranch appears frozen in time, an unchanged picture that sends shivers down your spine. The unsettling familiarity of the place only amplifies the weight of the past, casting a shadow over your determined journey back to a place that seems to have resisted the relentless march of time.

Bringing the car to a halt before the imposing main house, you silence the engine with a decisive twist of the key. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, mingling with the weight of anticipation that hangs in the air. Inhaling deeply, you draw in the essence of the moment, your fingers betraying a nervous rhythm as they tap anxiously against the steering wheel. 

The stillness belies the turmoil surging within, as you ready yourself to encounter the ghost of your past.

A mere thirty minutes— an hour at most, and you'll resume your journey on the open road, bound for the comfort of home in the city. 

Determination courses through your veins, intertwining with the staccato rhythm of your anxious heartbeat, the pulsations reverberating so forcefully that you can sense them echoing all the way to the depths of your ears. 

The moment your car door swings open, a subtle shift in the wind whispers a tale of transformation. The landscape may echo familiarity, but an intangible alteration lingers in the air, an elusive metamorphosis that leaves you questioning the very essence of this place. Is it a mere illusion, or has something truly shifted, perhaps within the confines of your own soul? 

Navigating the uneven terrain in heels proves to be a challenge, but undeterred, you conquer the dirt road and arrive at the tall front door. It stands before you, a sentinel of memories, somehow appearing taller than in recollection. The weathered, dark-red wooden door remains stoically unchanged, a silent witness to the passage of time. 

Two deliberate knocks break the stillness, and you retreat a step, a reverberation of anticipation coursing through the air as you stand on the threshold of both the past and the unknown.

The door frame, once pristine in its white coat, now bears the scars of time, its paint chipped and revealing glimpses of the weathered wood beneath. 

Stationed in front of the door, you endure a suspenseful five minutes, an eternity compressed into every passing second, yet the silence remains unbroken. Undeterred by the absence of response, a resolute determination guides your actions as you seize the handle. With a deliberate press, the handle yields, surrendering to your resolve and releasing a cacophony of creaks—a symphony of protesting hinges announcing your entrance into the realm of memories.

“Hello?” 

Your voice, tinged with uncertainty, dances into the air as you cautiously poke your head through the threshold, a hesitant entry into the familiar realms of the house. 

A gentle warmth envelops you, tenderly kissing your skin and infusing an instant sense of calm. The scent, aged and rich, swirls around you like a tangible embrace of wood and cherished memories from your childhood. The hallway stretches out before you, adorned with snapshots frozen in time—images of you and Jessi playing in the fields, your first pony, and a cherished trio with your mom. Each picture pulses with the erratic beat of your heart, echoing the palpable journey down the corridor of reminiscence. Amidst this gallery of the past, you navigate the tapestry of nostalgia, your destination set on what memory deems to be the kitchen.

The staccato clank of your heels resonates boldly against the unpolished hardwood floor, a deliberate announcement of your presence that reverberates through the silent expanse as you press deeper into the heart of the kitchen. Despite the resounding echo, a mysterious absence lingers, the emptiness amplifying the solitude within the room, a poignant contrast to the persistent cadence of your steps.

Surveying the scene, your eyes capture the delicate dance of white curtains adorned with lace, their elegance offering a stark contrast to the weathered state of the kitchen. Time has etched its story on the cabinets, pleading for a rejuvenating touch—perhaps a cleansing and a new coat of color to breathe life into the tired, faded cream. A wistful smile graces your lips, an emotive response to the tactile connection forged as your fingers trace the countertop. The surface, a touch dusty yet evocative, sparks an odd familiarity, transporting you to a realm of forgotten times and the comforting essence of what was once home.

A sudden voice startles you from your reverie, its unexpected presence slicing through the air like a well-timed interruption in the symphony of memories. 

“Can I help you?”

A jolt courses through your body, a startled response to the abrupt intrusion of the voice, yet you pivot on your heels, meeting the owner of the enigmatic, yet somehow airy, tones. 

In the face of the unexpected presence, you lock eyes with the source, a meeting that feels like a convergence of past and present, each heartbeat resonating with the electric charge surging through your body.

A nervous chuckle escapes you, the residue of your earlier determination dissipating in the charged air as you assess the man standing before you. 

His eyes, a deep and authoritative brown, lock onto yours, unraveling a silent narrative in their depths. Blonde and untamed, his long hair falls with a disheveled grace, framing a face that exudes both strength and mystery. His slender physique conceals well-defined, lean muscles beneath the snug embrace of a gray shirt, each contour subtly hinting at the strength within. Clad in blue denim jeans with artful rips at the bottom, and adorned with chunky western boots boasting intricate ornaments, he carries an aura of rugged elegance. 

“Can I help you?” he repeats, the query hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. 

Crossing his arms over a torso that amplifies the definition of his biceps, his deliberate posture commands attention, drawing your gaze to the undeniable display of strength.

“I’m so sorry,” you quip nervously, a hint of self-awareness coloring your tone. Inwardly, you curse the fact that you were caught in the act of checking him out, and you’ve yet to acknowledge the man properly. “I’m looking for Jessi?”

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes the man, accompanied by a soft smile that carries a subtle mystique, rendering his eyes nearly elusive. 

“Who are you?” he inquires, his arms still defiantly crossed, and a flicker of realization dawns upon you—this interaction holds a peculiar tension. The awareness sets in that, in essence, you are an intruder, a stranger trespassing into the intimate space of a home that isn’t yours anymore. 

“I'm Jessi's sister,” you declare, a succinct introduction that hangs in the air. His response is a simple “Oh,” a word that resonates with a spectrum of unspoken sentiments. 

As his arms fall to his sides, his posture eases into a more relaxed stance, and his gaze, now unhindered by the barricade of crossed arms, traverses the contours of your figure. Your choice of attire—heels and a summer dress that daringly grazes your thighs—doesn't escape his notice. 

You sense his eyes lingering on your exposed legs for a beat longer than societal norms might deem appropriate.

You find yourself unapologetically appreciating his attractiveness, recognizing the allure that binds both of you in a silent dance of mutual fascination.

“You don't remember me?” 

His question pierces through the air, catching you off guard, and instinctively, you lean back against the countertop. A subtle shake of your head accompanies the inquiry, and as you witness a shadow of sadness flicker across his eyes, an unexpected weight sinks into the chambers of your heart. The unspoken question lingers—should you know this man?

“It's me, Jimin,” he asserts with a voice steeped in pride and certainty, a declaration that sets your mind into a whirlwind of attempted recollection. His name resonates with a familiarity that dances on the periphery of your memory, like an elusive wisp slipping through the cracks of forgotten moments. 

“Park?” 

You question with a voice that wavers in uncertainty, the mere utterance of the name carrying the weight of a fragile hope. As the word escapes your lips, you cling to the fragile threads of memory, desperately seeking confirmation that you've pieced together the puzzle of identity correctly.

“Yeah! Don't you remember? We played together when we were kids,” he chuckles warmly, the nostalgia of shared memories evident in his eyes.  

With a warm gesture, he invites you to take a seat, a silent acknowledgment of the intricacies of your shared history. As he crosses the room to the sink, a subtle limp marks his stride—a detail you keenly observe as you pull out a chair. Your curiosity about his altered gait tugs at your thoughts, begging for expression, yet you restrain the impulse, deeming it too forward. Silently, you observe him reaching for a glass from the overhead cabinet, pouring water with a practiced ease. 

“Here you go,” he offers, placing the glass before you. As you take it, your fingers brush momentarily, and an unexpected electric jolt courses through your body. You respond with a sheepish smile, expressing gratitude for the simple gesture. “Jessi is out riding; she'll be back soon.” 

You nod, the cool touch of the glass against your lips serving as a momentary distraction from the impending wait. As you take a measured sip of water, the realization sinks in — a quiet acknowledgment that the road back home may stretch longer than initially anticipated.

“I'm sorry about your mom,” he offers his condolences, and a palpable pain reflects in his eyes. The depth of his empathy hints at a connection with your mother that might surpass your own or perhaps, he carries the weight of loss in his own experiences. Regardless, you express gratitude, but as you do, a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders accompanies your words. “It's whatever,” you say, attempting to downplay the complexity of emotions that linger beneath the surface, yet the weight of grief echoes in the unspoken spaces between you.

He offers a minuscule smile, a mere flicker that fails to reach the depths of his eyes, and a subtle shift in the atmosphere becomes palpable. A quiet tension weaves through the kitchen, the air thickening with unspoken complexities. It's as if the very walls themselves have become sentient, closing in with a slow and deliberate intent, creating an immersive sense of confinement that mirrors the unexplored territories of emotions lingering between you and Jimin.

The rhythmic clank of boots announces her arrival before she materializes in the doorway — Jessi, a force of raw determination, a cascade of muttered curse words trailing in her wake. 

With an aura of purpose, she strides into the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy that disrupts the tension-laden air.

“Aren't you supposed to be working?” she demands, a subtle undercurrent of anger weaving through her voice as her gaze fixes on Jimin. 

You sense that you've slipped beneath her radar for now. Jimin responds with a casual chuckle, turning his head in your direction. In that moment, you feel the weight of her steel gaze bore into you.

You observe the subtle tensing of her body, her gaze meticulously scrutinizing every inch of you. Arms crossed defensively, she acknowledges your presence with a guarded stance. 

“Long time no see. What do you want?” The words, delivered with an edge that slices through the air, reverberate with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, embodying the complex web of emotions that intertwine your shared history.

Your lips involuntarily tighten, the already tense atmosphere escalating to an almost suffocating degree as Jessi's presence intensifies. A rhythmic tapping of her foot reverberates through the room, an erratic metronome that hints at a cocktail of emotions—perhaps nervousness, perhaps anger, the fine line between the two eluding your understanding. 

“The inheritance,” you utter, and a visible transformation sweeps over Jessi. Her countenance, already frosty, plunges into an even colder abyss. The pallor that washes over her skin accentuates the darkness of her brown, curly hair, transforming it into a cascade that seems to absorb the shadows of her perturbed soul.

A nervous gulp echoes in the charged silence, your attempt to fortify a wavering resolve. The mission is clear — secure her signature, liberate yourself, and sever the lingering ties. The weight of unspoken history and familial complexities hangs in the air, urging you to complete this fraught encounter, hoping that once the ink meets the paper, you’ll leave and never bother her again.

“I want to sell my share of the ranch. I just need your signature.”

The declaration hangs in the charged air, a revelation that sends a ripple through the room. Jimin tenses visibly, gaping in clear surprise at your bold proclamation. Your sister, on the other hand, is barely faring any better. The undercurrents of anger surge to the surface, a tempest of emotions that bobs precariously, threatening to breach the veneer of composure that barely holds. 

She hisses, the sound cutting through the charged silence like a serpent's warning, and grinds her teeth together with a simmering intensity. “You're not getting that,” she declares with a venomous resolve, the words laced with an unmistakable determination that resonates with the unyielding clash of wills in the room. 

The sternness and anger in her voice reverberate through the room, creating an invisible barrier. Undeterred, you summon a quiet resolve and press forward, attempting to cut through the emotional tempest that surrounds her. “I just need your signature, and then I can go,” your words, a delicate plea amidst the tumultuous clash of emotions, hang in the air, a fragile bridge between the chasm of familial discord and the resolution you seek.

She strides purposefully towards you, anger etching furrows into her brows. Coming to a halt just before your seated form, she looms over you with a fiery intensity in her eyes. 

“No. Get the fuck out,” she commands, the force behind her words reverberating in the charged space between you. The air crackles with the energy of unresolved conflicts, and her words hang in the air like a proclamation, leaving no room for negotiation.

Jimin's expression no longer holds surprise, his features now marked by a disapproving shake of his head. As Jessi retreats from you, turning with a storm brewing in her wake, the kitchen becomes an echoing chamber of unresolved tensions. She storms out, leaving you and Jimin in the wake of her departure, the remnants of conflict lingering in the air like an unspoken presence that refuses to dissipate. 

You clench your hands into tight fists, the physical manifestation of the internal turmoil that courses through you. The realization dawns, like a belated epiphany, that her vehement reaction was all but predictable. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, and you slump back into the chair, the weight of disappointment settling upon you like a shroud. This isn't unfolding as you had envisioned.

The wind whips through, mercilessly tossing your hair into a chaotic dance across your face. Grumbling, you navigate the exterior of the main house, entering a realm where nature and grandeur coalesce. The yard unfolds before you, a testament to meticulous care, stretching expansively with paddocks extending for miles. To the left, a substantial stable stands as a regal sentinel, while to the right, three cottages punctuate the landscape.

Your gaze sweeps across the panoramic expanse, capturing the undulating beauty of the paddocks that cascade over the hills while the sun slowly sets. Cows and horses graze lazily, mere dots in the vast canvas of the countryside. The scene unfolds before you like a living painting, each blade of grass, each creature contributing to the symphony of nature. Amidst this serene image, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of contemplation, pondering the labyrinth of decisions that now lay before you.

Jessi won’t give you her signature, and you need her damn ink on that paper to be able to sell your share of the ranch.

Maybe if you get on her good side, she’ll reconsider? It’s worth a try at least.

“Hi,” a lilting female voice disrupts the current of your thoughts, a melodic intrusion that yanks you back from the recesses of contemplation. Your pivot is swift, attention now redirected to the stranger who has materialized behind you.

Her hand extends gracefully towards you, a gesture that transcends the usual formalities. “I'm Soo-ah, one of the stable hands here,” she introduces herself with an easy confidence, her words resonating with a sense of belonging and familiarity within the expansive realm of the ranch.

“Ah, hi,” you muse with a soft smile, extending a handshake that bridges the gap between stranger and newfound acquaintance. Her stature is modest, a curvature of curves, with a disarming smile that reveals a charming imperfection in the form of endearing crooked teeth. Clad in short denim shorts adorned with delicate white lace on the trim and a pink tank top, she exudes an aura of comfort and warmth. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of blue, gleam with a radiance that speaks of love and hope, amplified by the contrast against her sun-kissed tan skin.

“Your trip didn't go according to plan?” she inquires, the gentle cadence of her question accompanied by the sweep of a hand, gracefully gathering her long blonde hair away from her face. 

A chuckle escapes you, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, as you confess, “Not really.”

“You know, this place means a lot to Jessi. It's her home. She wouldn't want you to sell your share for some random people to buy it or worse, use the land for housing or something.” Her eyes mirror the softness of her words, and a gentle smile graces her lips, a gesture that carries an unexpected soothing effect on your conflicted heart. 

The weight of her words settles on your conscience, a realization you had secretly dreaded. You grasp the depth of your sister's emotional connection to this land, an affection you once shared but have since outgrown. The prospect of selling your share, allowing strangers to lay claim to the cherished homestead, unfolds before you, and you acknowledge why Jessi vehemently opposes it. Yet, your heart remains indifferent to the sentimental ties that bind others to this place. It ceased being home long ago, and the notion of it ever regaining that status in your life appears as elusive as a distant memory fading into the horizon.

“Say what. It's late, and dinner's almost ready. Why don't you come eat with us and meet the rest of the gang? After that, I'll show you one of the guest rooms!” Her invitation resonates with a contagious enthusiasm, her voice exuding a warmth that almost verges on giddy. The surge of energy she emanates feels almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the subdued atmosphere that has accompanied your arrival.

“I haven't packed anything. I didn't plan on staying…” you mumble, your words trailing off into the evening breeze. Despite your half-hearted protest, she seizes your hand and playfully pulls you towards the main house. Reluctance threads through your steps, a tangible resistance to the unexpected detour that fate seems to be orchestrating. 

“There's a guest room in the house, and you can borrow some clothes from Jessi or me. Those heels and that dress aren't exactly farm-friendly attire.” She laughs, a melody of warmth that resonates through the short walk to the house. Soo-ah guides you to the guest room where you'll be spending the night, and then you both make your way to the kitchen. 

There, you encounter another enchanting presence—a statuesque woman, tall and slender, her ebony hair culminating at her neck. Her eyes, a captivating shade of incredibly dark brown, bordering on obsidian, stand out against her lovely fair white skin. Clad in a simple yet elegant ensemble of a dark t-shirt paired with dark blue denim jeans, she moves gracefully around the kitchen, orchestrating what appears to be a culinary feast in the making. 

“I'm Ha-rin.” A casual wave accompanies her introduction, a seamless dance of gestures as she deftly grabs a handful of vegetables with the other hand.

“This is Jessi's sister,” Soo-ah introduces you with a warm smile, and Ha-rin nods in a gesture that suggests a preexisting understanding. “How can we help?” she inquires, her words carrying a blend of genuine curiosity and an unspoken readiness to extend hospitality. 

“You can set the table. I'm almost done with the food,” she declares, seamlessly transitioning to the task of cutting carrots with a professional speed that leaves you duly impressed.

Soo-ah guides you to the location of plates and glasses, and in a synchronized dance, you both embark on setting the table in the dining room. The collaborative effort carries an unexpected warmth, a departure from the solitary routine you've grown accustomed to. The act of sharing this communal task conjures a sense of nostalgia; it's been a long time since you've partaken in such simple yet meaningful rituals. Your dining experiences have often been solitary, occasionally shared with a partner, although those instances are rare occurrences in the tapestry of your solitary meals.

In no time, Ha-rin completes the culinary masterpiece, presenting a spread of oven-cooked chicken, a colorful assortment of vegetables, and tantalizing kimchi. The table becomes a canvas adorned with the promise of a delectable feast. As you all take your seats, another presence joins the gathering—Ara, a tall woman with big brown eyes and chocolate-brown hair cascading gracefully over her shoulders. Her curves and paler skin distinguish her from Ha-rin, yet she radiates the same warmth that characterizes the group. 

The door swings open, and into the room strides your sister, a pronounced frown etching lines of disapproval on her face the moment her sharp eyes lock onto your figure seated at her dining table. 

“Didn't I tell you to leave?” Her voice cuts through the air, laden with an undeniable tension that hangs like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the gathering. 

With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you confront the directness that has always characterized Jessi, even if it doesn't always come across as nice. “It's getting dark, and Soo-ah graciously provided me with a room for the night. I'm not leaving until I get your signature,” you assert, the declaration hanging in the air like an unyielding challenge. 

Jessi's voice carries a distinct air of deflation, and it becomes evident that obtaining her signature won't be a victory achieved tonight, if at all. Resigned, she takes her place at the head of the table, a silent acknowledgment of the impasse. 

A stretch of silence envelops the dining room as everyone engages in the act of eating, a temporary truce. However, the calm is shattered as Jessi, unable to contain her emotions any longer, erupts like a dormant volcano. “Why can't you just keep your share of the ranch, huh?” Her words punctuate the air, each question a stab to the atmosphere, accentuated by the forceful plunge of her fork into the unfortunate chicken.

“Honestly?” You draw in a deep breath, preparing for the verbal fallout, fully aware that you've stepped into a minefield. “I just need the money.” The words hang in the air, a stark admission that lays bare your motivations. Jessi's frown deepens, her disapproving expression not eliciting the slightest surprise from you. 

“Why can't you just buy my share?” The words escape you in a frustrated huff, irritation building with each passing moment. Jessi's ability to get on your nerves becomes increasingly evident, a skill she's always excelled at. 

“I don't have the money to buy you out,” she states bluntly, her voice carrying a mix of blankness and anger, turning the tension at the table sour. Your plate, once adorned with the delicious offerings crafted by Ha-rin, now sits neglected, the food losing its appeal in the wake of the strained conversation. What a shame, you think, as the beautifully prepared meal becomes a casualty of the familial clash, and your appetite dissipates like the vanishing aroma of an abandoned feast.

“Why are you so mad at me?” you sputter out in frustration, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to pull at your hair in exasperation. The room echoes with a tense silence, interrupted only by the subtle sound of your sister's scuff, a precursor to the deep inhale that precedes the unleashing of her fury upon you.

“I haven't seen you in twenty years. You stomp in here, wanting to take my home away from me. And you didn't even attend Mom's funeral. Some balls you have.” Her voice is stern, each word laced with venom, and her glare cuts through you like a knife. To punctuate her disapproval, she slams her hands down hard on the table. “I'm going to bed. Goodnight.” 

Then she stomps off. At least she has some manners, you think, acknowledging the begrudging ‘goodnight’ she offered. Nevertheless, you sigh, the rest of the girls casting pitiful glances in your direction.

You lean back in the chair, contemplating the daunting challenge of ever getting on your sister's good side. The prospect seems as elusive as catching a shooting star, an almost impossible mission. Just as you sink into the depths of your thoughts, Ara shatters your contemplation with a beaming smile. “We're having a party tomorrow. Won't you stay for that?”

You take a few seconds to mull over her offer: a party in the countryside does sound intriguing, but the prospect of extended time with a sister who harbors animosity towards you gives you pause. Soo-ah, sensing your hesitation, steps in with a persuasive grin, “There'll be hot men!”

Then, in an instant, thoughts of Jimin flood your mind, and the prospect of his presence at the party becomes a tantalizing factor. A glimmer of optimism flickers; perhaps attending won't be as unbearable as you initially thought. Contemplating the possibility of a good time, you decide, “Who can say no to that?”

A forced laugh escapes your lips, but within it, there's a hint of genuine enjoyment. Sometimes, you remind yourself, you have to fake it until you make it.

The barn pulsates with the rhythm of the music, a lively mix of country tunes, not exactly your preferred genre, yet the melodies weave seamlessly into the rustic ambiance. Couples and friends sway to the slow beats on the dance floor, creating an intimate atmosphere that, despite your initial reservations, feels oddly fitting. Most attendees linger along the walls engaged in conversation, and as your eyes scan the scene, you notice a handful of men. The girls weren't exaggerating – the company includes some undeniably attractive men.

The majority of women sport casual dresses, much like the one you've borrowed from Ha-rin. Clad in a long black lace dress that subtly accentuates your curves, you navigate the sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces. In stark contrast, Jessi's attire veers towards practicality – shirt, jeans and boots, a reflection of her enduring tomboyish nature. While you entertain a fleeting thought about the silliness of her choice for a party, a deeper understanding dawns. She’s always been more practical, and her choice of clothes tonight might align with that too. 

Surveying the lively scene again, your eyes lock onto your sister, deeply engrossed in a conversation with Jimin, an interaction that sparks both curiosity and a twinge of apprehension within you. 

As Ha-rin diligently tends to the culinary offerings, ensuring a variety of light snacks for everyone, Soo-ah and Ara steal the spotlight on the improvised dance floor. Their laughter echoes through the barn, a harmonious blend of joy and camaraderie, and you can't help but be drawn into the dynamic and diverse interactions unfolding around you.

Turning on your heels, a craving for the crisp embrace of fresh air seizes you. Opting for the subtlety of a quiet exit, you make your way toward the back door of the barn. The metallic touch of the door handle graces your palm with a forgiving chill, a stark departure from the warmth and vibrancy pulsating within. Pushing the door ajar, the night air rushes to greet your face, prompting a sigh of contemplation. 

However, as you step outside, your serenity shatters with a startle – a towering, muscular figure leans against the barn, arms crossed, waiting in the shadows of the night.

A startled yelp escapes your lips, accompanied by an inadvertent inhalation of lingering smoke in the air. The features of the stranger remain elusive, shrouded in the haze, as they release a deep and resonant chuckle in response to your momentary disarray. 

“Scaredy-cat?” he teases, the resonance of his laughter causing an animated jiggle through his entire upper body. Your gaze inadvertently drifts to his well-defined pectorals, emphasized by the snug fit of his ripped tank top. The exact hue of the fabric eludes you in the dim light, a mysterious darkness with a hint of, perhaps, deep blue.

You approach him, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, though inwardly acknowledging the undeniable truth – you are indeed a scaredy-cat. Closing the distance, your eyes trace a path from his broad shoulders down his right arm, a canvas adorned with a full sleeve of tattoos. Among the intricate designs, some manifest in striking black and white, while others burst forth with vivid splashes of color, each telling a silent tale waiting to be unraveled.

Approaching him, you realize you've left his question hanging in the air. Coming to a halt in front of this enigmatic figure, you find yourself captivated by his deep, dark brown eyes. In the obscurity of the night, tiny glints of light echo the stars above, gleaming in his gaze. His pitch black long hair, with small curls at the end, frame his handsome face. Contrary to the rugged bulk of his body, his facial features exude a surprising softness. Thick, black eyebrows frame his expressive eyes, while a slim, pointed nose adds to the symphony of features. A sharp, defined jawline contrasts with the plushness of his rosy lips, gently circling a half-smoked cigarette.

“Jessi’s sister, huh?” He inhales deeply from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that dances in the air beside you. 

“Y-Yes,” you stammer nervously, a feeble symphony to the deep timbre of his laughter. Nonetheless, you summon the courage to introduce yourself, your name a tentative melody lingering in the night air.

“I'm Jungkook.” He announces, the remnants of the cigarette meeting its demise beneath the sole of his boot, extinguishing any lingering embers. A subtle caution against the spark that could set the night ablaze.

“You look hot. Want to make out?” His gaze boldly traces over you, and a sudden self-consciousness grips you in the delicate embrace of your lace dress. Your cheeks ignite in a bright red flush, caught off guard by the unexpected boldness of his proposition.

Your flabbergasted expression seems to amuse him, and his laughter echoes, revealing an endearing smile that prompts a soft, airy chuckle to escape your lips in response.

“I'm serious, you know,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Another blush creeps up on you at his bluntness. Initially thinking he was joking, you now realize he's actually serious. As you assess him, you can't deny his incredible attractiveness, coupled with a nice smile and soft eyes. Perhaps he can't be all bad, right?

You saunter closer, conducting a swift yet thorough assessment of him. With a teasing lick of your lips, you signal that you're up for the game. “Sure.”

In a bold surge, he captures your lips, biting down on your lower lip as if seeking entrance. Yielding to the magnetic pull, your tongues engage in a fiery dance. His hands firmly grip your shoulders, giving a reassuring squeeze before deftly maneuvering you against the wall.

In a ravenous and swift embrace, his lips claim yours, leaving you breathless when he breaks away, his gaze smoldering with a lustful intensity that ignites a fiery sensation beneath your skin. Though not one to engage in impulsive encounters, the intoxicating allure of the moment fans the flames of excitement within you. Reminding yourself of the imminent departure tomorrow, you boldly lean in, craving another taste, and surrender to the intoxicating dance of desire.

As the kiss deepens, his demeanor doesn't exude sweetness or tenderness, and strangely, you find solace in that. After all, tomorrow marks your return home. The intensity of his kiss, possessive and profound, spirals you into a mindless whirlwind, your thoughts dissipating into nothingness, overwhelmed by the feeling of his rugged frame pressed firmly against yours.

His gravelly voice breaks the kiss momentarily as he breathlessly declares, “Your lips are so damn soft.” 

Locking eyes with you, he plunges back into the intoxicating exchange, this time with an urgent and fervent intensity that mirrors his escalating desire, leaving little room for restraint.

Your fingers dig into the firm contours of his hips, tracing an electrifying path along the sculpted landscape of his toned body. The rhythmic play of his muscles beneath your touch is a tactile symphony, every ridge and sinew a testament to his strength, creating an intricate dance beneath the fabric of his shirt.

His lips embark on a tantalizing journey, lingering on your cheek with teasing kisses before reaching your ear. A low, guttural growl escapes his lips as he presses his pelvis against you, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. The warmth of his breath against your ear ignites a wildfire of sensations, and the undeniable presence of his arousal is impossible to ignore. Control slips away like sand through your fingers, and you find yourself succumbing to the irresistible pull of desire.

You bite down on your lips, the struggle to suppress a moan palpable. Despite the lively party unfolding just a breath away, Jungkook possesses an uncanny ability to whisk you into a world of his own creation, making the chaotic celebration fade into insignificance.

His hands explore the contours of your breasts, coaxing a soft moan from your lips. The absence of padding in your bra leaves your nipples immediately responsive to his teasing fingers. Sensations surge through you, and as your panties cling uncomfortably, an urgent desire to shed them intensifies.

His breath hot against your ear, he whispers, “I want to fuck you so bad, can I?”

The firm squeeze on your breasts sends a wave of desire through you. Fuck. The craving intensifies, and the anticipation of being with him grows insatiable. It's been an eternity since you felt this desire, and you're already on the edge, yearning for his touch.

Your response escapes in a breathy whisper, “Hell yes.” 

Your fingers find purchase on the contours of his chest, seeking stability amid the whirlwind of desire that envelops you both.

The symphony of desire crescendos as you catch the melodic jingle of his belt being undone, the tantalizing slide of metal against leather, and the whisper of a zipper surrendering its secrets. Soon, his jeans cascade down, pooling around his knees.

Your curiosity takes over, compelling you to cast an audacious gaze downward, and even through the fabric of his underwear, the impressive outline of his arousal is undeniable. The undeniable bulge hints at a restrained intensity, and summoning your courage, you boldly cup him, your touch sending a low, guttural groan reverberating through the charged air.

“Are you good to go without any prep?” His question, a tantalizing whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine, and the resonant, lust-laden timbre of his voice resonates deep within you. 

Nodding in affirmation, you can't help but bite your lip, feeling the promise of an exhilarating encounter ahead. “Yes,” you murmur, a breathy admission to the impending intensity.

As he lowers his underwear, his dick is unleashed, an impressive display of length and girth, veins tracing its sculpted form. The engorged head, flushed and intense, undergoes a few suggestive strokes from his skilled hands, droplets of precum glistening as they descend to the ground below.

His touch is commanding, fingers tracing a path down the contours of your dress, gathering the fabric in his strong grip. Swiftly, his hands venture beneath, reaching the apex of your panties. In one bold motion, he removes them, allowing them to cascade to the ground as you gracefully step out, shedding inhibitions along with the delicate undergarment.

Unexpectedly, he seizes your hips, effortlessly lifting you into the air. As you leap, your legs instinctively wrap around his tiny waist, aligning your bare core with his throbbing dick, a subtle gasp escaping your lips as your wetness coats his cock.

A soft moan escapes your lips at the tantalizing contact, and Jungkook, seizing the opportunity, grips your supple curves, pressing you firmly against the wall for stability. Skillfully, he produces a condom out of thin air, wraps his cock with it and positions his dick at the entrance of your eager pussy. Your hands instinctively clutch his neck, a mixture of anticipation and desire written across your face as you brace yourself for the impending ecstasy. With a devious smile playing on his lips, he tantalizingly teases the velvety folds of your cunt with the head of his cock. But the pretense of gentleness is short-lived, as he discards any lingering pleasantries and thrusts his dick into your warm and eager core in one seamless motion.

A gasp escapes your lips as an exquisite stretch engulfs you, momentarily testing your limits. Yet, the generous coating of your arousal ensures that the discomfort swiftly transforms into an intoxicating wave of pleasure, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

He moves with an urgency that suggests an impending deadline, setting a pace that mirrors a sense of immediacy, as if time is a luxury he can't afford. The reasons behind his haste remain a mystery, and in this moment, you find yourself indifferent to the ticking clock, wholly absorbed in the intensity of the present.

“Mmmhh. You’re so tight.” 

You gasp at the force of his thrusts, feeling the impact resonate through your body as your back collides with the wall. The slight discomfort is eclipsed by the overwhelming pleasure, and his raspy pants only intensify the raw, visceral connection between you, each movement a symphony of pleasure and urgency. He thrusts forcefully, plunging into the depth of your pussy.

Wrapping your legs around him, you greedily pull him closer, breathless huffs escaping your lips with each relentless thrust. “Yes! Right there!” The pleasure becomes almost blinding as he unerringly targets that sweet, sensitive spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure that build an exquisite tension, promising an impending climax that pulses in the depths of your core.

“Shit.” He pants huskily into your ear, a shiver running down your spine in response. The intensity of his thrusts is unparalleled, each powerful movement leaving an indelible mark on your senses. The realization hits you that tomorrow might bring soreness, but in the heat of the moment, with a dick this good, you decide it's a price worth paying.

Your moans have evolved into uninhibited symphonies, each thrust hitting that exquisite spot that sends shockwaves through your body. The coil in your tummy tightens, ready to snap, just waiting for that final nudge to propel you over the edge. “I’m so close.”

Jungkook's grip on your ass tightens, but with skilled precision, he frees one hand and navigates it down the narrow space between your bodies. Despite the limited room, his large hand finds your clit and begins to rhythmically rub it to the beat of his thrusts. The sensation is mind-blowing. Every rub and thrust unravel your body, sending waves of ecstasy through every inch of your being.

Then he leans in, his hot breath grazing your ear, and he moans, pushing you right over the edge, “Come on my cock, pretty.”

“Jungkook!” You pant his name erratically as the coil inside snaps, and you release your fluid over his cock, synchronized with his relentless thrusts. You gasp for air, momentarily feeling your vision blur as your orgasm surges through your spent body.

He keeps thrusting into you, and you feel utterly spent, so you’re just hanging on and clinging to him for dear life. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as he relentlessly fucks you, searching for his own sweet release.

At a particularly hard thrust, you open your eyes, and they collide with a figure standing in the shadows. 

Brown eyes and blonde hair meet yours. 

You gulp, feeling your core clench instinctively. 

It's Jimin. 

His eyes reflect a mix of sadness and disappointment as they lock onto yours for a few lingering moments. He turns away and retreats back into the lively party. You don’t appreciate the unsettling expression on Jimin’s face, but there’s little you can do about it now. A strange and disconcerting feeling settles in your stomach.

“Fuck, you just got tighter, babe. I’m almost there.” His hands tighten their grip, his biceps flexing as he pulls you closer, syncing your movements with the intensity of his thrusts.

You sense Jungkook's thrusts growing more erratic, a telltale sign he's close. Despite his exhaustion, he strives to give his all in those final fervent moments, and you feel the warmth of his release filling the condom inside you as his pace slows. He's visibly breathless, and you empathize; after all, he exerted himself, utilizing every ounce of strength to keep you elevated. In his position, you'd likely be a panting mess on the ground.

“You good?” He inquires, scrutinizing your expression. Whether he discerns the melancholy etched on your face or not, he doesn't comment. Gently withdrawing from you and discarding the condom, he steadies you on shaky legs. You respond with a pensive smile and a nod. The night was undeniably enjoyable, yet Jimin's forlorn gaze lingers in your thoughts, casting a shadow over the post-passion atmosphere.

“I had a good time, thank you.” You muster a smile, though it feels a bit strained. Whether he perceives it or not is uncertain, and even if he does, you doubt it holds much significance to him.

“Same here. Thanks, babe.” His laughter rumbles as he rights himself, adjusting his underwear and fastening his pants. As he tends to his attire, you scan the floor for your abandoned panties.

As you retrieve them, you notice the dirt clinging to the delicate fabric, deciding against putting them on. Instead, you allow them to slip from your grasp, figuring you'll retrieve them tomorrow for a wash. The last thing you want is to flaunt dirty underwear at the party.

Jungkook strides confidently back into the lively party, and you trail closely in his wake, anticipation and a lingering heat coloring the air around you.

As you reenter the vibrant party scene, a sudden hush falls over the crowd, and the weight of all eyes on you feels like an invisible spotlight, making you wish for a momentary escape beneath the ground.

As you scan the crowd for Jimin, your gaze briefly collides with his, only to witness him quickly diverting his eyes elsewhere. 

A perplexing mix of emotions lingers in his gaze—perhaps hurt or frustration. Puzzled, you question the impact of your intimate encounter outside, contemplating why he might be affected when, by all accounts, you share no significant ties.

As you enter the dining room, the tempting aroma of Ha-rin's carefully prepared breakfast envelops you, offering a flavorful farewell before you embark on your journey back to the bustling city.

As you approach the table, a surprising sense of harmony fills the room, with everyone already seated, including Jessi, who appears to be in higher spirits—perhaps fueled by the knowledge that she’s getting rid of you today.

Soo-ah's eyes sweep the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she starts, “ I discovered a pair of lacy red panties outside the barn this morning.”

You nearly choke on your food, a sudden realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Shit. Those are mine. Completely slipped my mind. My bad.”

All eyes suddenly fixate on you, their curiosity palpable. Soo-ah's gaze is practically bulging out of her eyes, Ara looks equally stunned, and Ha-rin can't help but release an amused ‘ooohh.’ Even Jessi, with her usual nonchalant demeanor, can't completely hide the flicker of intrigue in her eyes as she rolls them at the unfolding gossip.

Curiosity and a mischievous glint spark in Ara's big brown doe eyes as she leans forward, her cheeks tinted with a hint of red, and pops the question, “Who did you fuck?”

Between casual bites of scrambled eggs, you drop the bombshell, “A guy named Jungkook. You know him?” The nonchalance in your tone does little to mask the intrigue dancing in your eyes, leaving the table hanging on your every word.

A heavy hush descends upon the table, and you scan the faces around you, perplexed by the sudden silence. Disapproval lingers in Jessi's slow shake of the head, while the exchange of disconcerting glances among the girls hints at a shared, unspoken concern.

“What’s wrong?” Concern etches your voice as you inquire, the subtle panic seeping through, unable to grasp the sudden tension enveloping the table.

Soo-ah leans in dramatically, her words hanging in the air like a heavy secret. “You fucked Jungkook,” she drawls, the gravity of her statement sinking in, and a chill coursing through your veins. “The same Jungkook who's been with half the town—Park Jungkook.” The weight of his name leaves you wide-eyed, a sinking feeling settling in your gut.

Your jaw practically hits the floor, or it would if that were humanly possible. Park? Jungkook and Jimin are brothers?

Fuck.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

Omg 🫢 How did you like the ending??? I hope you won’t be too mad… The fling with Jungkook only happens this one time, but necessary to happen for the rest of the story to make sense 🥲

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[bettsfic]

Hi, Betts! Apologies if you‘ve already answered something of the sort before, I tend to forget that tumblr exists for a few months every once in a while, so I‘m not super up to date with all the topics you‘ve previously discussed! But. I‘ve been writing fics for a couple of years now and, after getting medicated for my adhd, I‘ve also established a pretty reliable and enjoyable system to finish the (long) fic projects I start! However, every time I try to work on something original, I usually tap out after 5-10k words. The excitement, the itch, the brainrot, the daydreaming, it‘s all there but I just lose my motivation at a certain point. Part of it is that creating and writing original characters is incredibly challenging. I‘m using to having a solid base when I write fic characters so it makes sense that having to come up with that base all by myself is new and slightly overwhelming, but ok, I already have ideas to deal with that. However, there is also the fact that I *know* my original stories won’t see the light of day for a hot while — not like my fics that I get to share on ao3 — and that kills my ends up killing my motivation more often than not… I think! Some of my friends and mutuals have offered to beta/read my original stories, so that could help, but since I‘m here writing this, I still haven’t found that push to properly work on my original wips. (Also, I feel like my original writing style is just 10x worse than my fic style… but maybe that‘s just the normal new project bad kind of writing?) I was wondering if you have dealt with something similar and whether you have any tips and tricks to convince myself that my original wips are fun and worth the effort too? Love your advice and your fics :3

when you've written fanfic for a long time, there's one creative muscle that can atrophy, and that's building parameters. in fanfic, the most ridiculous, far fetched AU is still grounded in some way by the text it's responding to. you're playing a game that more or less already has rules. but in original fiction, you have to write the rules before you can play the game. a lot of times that means you write an entire book to figure out the book you're trying to write, and then you rewrite the book.

i almost always come to a grinding halt at about 10k of any original project because that's how long it takes me to find the parameters of the inciting incident. and once i have the parameters, i start over. usually there's one or two paragraphs i keep and which end up guiding the rest of the project. sometimes the parameters are never set and i have to set the whole thing down until a solution comes to me, which can take months or years.

as for external validation/motivation, if you can find a couple good cheerleaders who will read chapters as you finish them and who get invested in the story you're writing, i find that can offer a simulacrum of the immediate satisfaction of posting/updating a fic. i had to have cheerleaders through my first two original novels. i can motivate myself now and don't need them anymore, but lacking them does make writing original work a very lonely endeavor. but if you have good cheerleaders, do whatever you can to keep them. buy them little trinkets, send them birthday cards, kiss them on the mouth. because that kind of friendship and dedication can be such a rarity in the grand scheme of things.

and as always, writing is an endurance sport. it can take years to build up the patience, discipline, and drive to write a novel. even if it doesn't feel like it, getting down a bunch of false starts is still progress. like chess, it's good to know your opening moves, and that initial 5-10k of parameter-building goes waaaaay faster when you know you're going to scrap it anyway. all you're looking for in those early words is that one paragraph that turns the ignition. and once you're on the road and headed in a direction, there's no better feeling than seeing your word count go up and getting obsessed with your own world and characters.

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

A Graves x Reader x Ghost Love Triangle

As Shadow Company’s second in command, you’ve seen firsthand the kind of man Graves could be, including the kind of man he wanted to be for you. It was a game you two unknowingly played, one that would surely not end well. A quick distraction meant to tame your busy souls. Warm bodies to lie with. Anything other than that was pure fantasy, though you two couldn’t help dreaming...

Future NSFW 18+, Future Angst, Pre-MW2 Events, Fluff, Flirting, Teasing, First Kiss, Romance, Drama, Build-up, Implied FWB, Make-Out Session, Shadow Company!Reader

WC ~ 2k

AO3 Link | Masterlist

A/N (2024): Made a few minor grammatical fixes and touched up some of the sentences that weren't making sense. Hopefully, this reads a lot stronger now! ^.~

A/N: I have never posted on Tumblr like this before; I’m a grade A lurker. But I’m obsessed with this for whatever reason, so now you’re being subjected to my writing. This is chapter one to a longer story that’ll be posted on AO3. Sorry if the characters feel OOC, I’m trying my best with what we got. Please enjoy! (T^T)>

Phillip Graves was as much of an enigma as the rest of the men in Shadow Company.

He could be many things when asked: Confident and self-assured, charismatic and dependable, disciplined and cutthroat, remorseless … as cold and calculated as a well-trained attack dog, or as warm and inviting as a long-time friend. All these personas existed within the commander, ready to be switched on in a single order. A chameleon, true to his craft. He’s grown accustomed to making himself whoever the world needed him to be. Anything that gets the job done.  

There was never any mistaking where Graves' thoughts lie, as more than often he'd just admit to them out loud. He accepts that others believe him to be an open book -- easy to read, with little complexity or depth beyond being a good soldier. Being lighthearted and obedient to the right people has worked wonders for him in the past, so he's mastered this façade and uses it well to his advantage. Proudly too.

But for a man so unafraid to be himself, Graves could be surprisingly secretive. 

As his second in command, you've seen firsthand the many personas your commander wore, including ones he's worn for you. Most of his tricks and plays you recognized by now, even as you've yet to understand them. Though as of late you’ve watched these many faces of his waver into something unfamiliar. They chip away slowly, each time you surrender yourself to his needs, taking your place beside him in the black of night, when no one's around to see. There, he's created a new façade, for your eyes only.

One that only made things complicated.

When you first began spending your nights together, it was more of a means to an end. It had been months since either of you had the pleasure of someone else's full attention, and lately, you were starting to notice. Shadow Company had grown more acclaimed and busy this past year, making dating pretty impossible. And after a while, anyone starts to look like a good lay if they're not ugly. Unfortunately, it didn't leave you with many options, until you'd caught the starved eye of your very own commander. 

You’d hardly been a part of Shadow Company for a month before you’d picked up on Graves' interest in you. He was surprisingly subtle with his flirting, if not predictable. It was the way his eyes lingered on you in quiet moments, his expression turned soft as his lips curved into a charming smile whenever you'd catch him. He could always spot you in a crowded room, always noticing when you were away for too long. He laughed just a little too hard at your jokes and always looked your way first after sharing one himself.

Before long, you found yourself beginning to watch him back. 

It was the little details you noticed first. The small cuts on his face from past firefights, how glossy and full of life his blue eyes looked in direct sunlight. Its rays would make a halo over his dirty blond hair, each strand looking clean enough to run your fingers through. He once caught you looking at him lick his lips, something he did often. When your eyes lifted from his mouth to see your superior officer looking dead at you, it shot a bolt of lightning through you. But you didn't look away, perhaps wanting him to see you looking. Taunting him.

Graves didn't say anything at first when he saw you ogling, but you knew he'd made a mental note of it just from the way he smirked afterward. "See something you like?"

"I see you, Commander," you'd said, hoping your glib nature would cover up the embarrassment you felt from getting caught. But Graves was like a shark in the water, and you'd just given him a taste of your blood.

"I see you too, Songbird." 

It seems all he needed was that clue that you were interested in him, because it wasn't soon after this when he decided to make his move.

You and the Commander had just finished prepping your mission brief for the other Shadow Company members. By now it was getting late in the night, as the building you two were in was a small facility only authorized personnel could enter. You occupied one of the empty rooms converted into an office space for all the pencil pushers to work out of. They’d all clocked out for the day though, leaving you two alone; and the tension in the air between you had just reached a boiling point.

You stood up from one of the tables in the room, preparing to slip into your coat and call it a night, until you watched the Commander approach you suddenly. You assumed he was getting ready to leave as well, until you noticed his come-hither nature.

“So, you got any plans tonight?”

And just like that, the game was on. You knew right away where this would go and it had your heart already skipping a beat. But you didn't want to jump to conclusions, nor did you want to rush this either. The thrill of the pursuit provided you with a nice little rush.

Wicked as you were, you began to smile.

“Why?” you ask. “Did you have something in mind?”

“I can think of a few things,” he said, behaving purposefully coy, in hopes of getting a rile out of you. He always did enjoy your banter and had no problem doing a little teasing himself when presented with the opportunity.

“Is that right?” you say flirtatiously. “Will I like those “things”, Commander?”

Graves smirks, raising an eyebrow at your comment. Hearing his title roll from your tongue so provocatively brought a sudden twinkle to his eyes. At this point, he didn’t need to guess where your mind was, which only made him more bold.

He chuckles under his breath, taking a few small steps closer, until he’s only an arm's length away. His next play.

He wasn't the tallest man you met but he still managed to tower over you by a few inches, the light from the room casting a shadow over him. This close you could smell the aftershave and cologne he’d used this morning, watching the way his eyes took in every detail of you, pupils dilating, black over-compassing the deep blue of his irises. He leans against the wall and unconsciously licks his lips again.

It was like a switch flipped in him.

“You will.”

You scoff, laughing under your breath at his boldness. You were wondering when he would be. Still, you wanted to poke at him a little more, see how long you could keep him waiting, if not to see if he was being for real. “Cocky as always.”

“Would you like me some other way then?”

You play on his words from earlier. “I can think of a few ways.”

“And what might those ways be, Songbird?”

"You're a smart boy," you hum. "I think you can figure them out. My lips are sealed, otherwise."

Graves steps even closer. He lifts a hand and pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle and surprisingly warm, gliding against you like feathers, his fingers trailing across your jawline and resting beneath your chin. Goosebumps formed where he touched, and you could tell from the doe-eyed look he had that it was doing something to him too, seeing you like this. He takes his hand beneath your chin and lifts your head, forcing you to lock eyes.

"And if I order you to say them?"

His voice was now much lower than before. Sultry. You could feel it in the air he was ready to come in closer, simply waiting for an opportunity to do so that felt right.

Butterflies shot through you like a thick swarm; you didn’t want to let on that his words had you like putty in his hands, though you feared your little lip quiver may have given it away. You instead look down at his lips again, your gaze sullied. You began thinking of all the ways you could close this space between you two and put an end to the tension. The thrill of it all had your adrenaline spiking in all the right ways, simply waiting to see where things go from this point. "Then I won’t listen," you purr.

"Insubordination is rather punishable," he said.

"So is fraternization."

"I can keep a secret." Graves brought his thumb to your lip, lightly running it across, as his eyes lowered to your mouth. He nearly says in a whisper, "Tell me what you’re thinking."

"Let me show you."

His lips slowly come down to yours, kissing you gently. When you pressed your lips back against his, he exhaled pleasurably, tongue grazing your bottom lip. He moves his hand from your chin and curls it to the back of your neck, holding you in place and continuing to tease you with short, velvety pecks. His lips danced against yours with the skill of a seasoned player, clearly experienced in his craft, but it wasn’t until he felt your hands glide against his hips and tug him closer that his kisses grew insatiable. 

His grip on the back of your neck tightened, lips pressing harder against yours, feverishly. When the sudden aggression brings a low moan from you, it only makes him push harder, his other hand grabbing the small of your back and roughly pressing himself against you.

His weight causes you to shift backward until he has your back pressed against a wall. Unknowingly, your arm bumps against a nearby filing cabinet on the way there, knocking over a few papers that now littered the floor. Mere background noise to Graves, who only continues, his arms planted on other sides of the wall around you, as his lips trailed down your neck. His kisses reach your collarbone, the sensitive sensation causing you to gasp out a moan. “Graves!”

Hearing his name be moaned out sends him on a personal mission to hear you say it more. He takes his hands and slowly runs them down your body, feeling every bit of you he can through your uniform, before resting them on your thighs. In one swift motion, he then lifts you, taking your legs and straddling them around his waist, as he keeps your back against the wall. He presses himself to you and breathes heavily, rejoining his mouth with yours.

By now you could feel him through his pants, and you pushed yourself against him in response, the grinding motion bringing quiet moans from both of you. That’s when you two suddenly hear footsteps.

At the drop of a hat, you two freeze, going completely silent. The footsteps come from outside the room -- someone walking by in the hallway. A janitor maybe? God forbid it was anyone in the company. You held your breaths for only about a minute, listening to the steps pass by the room until you couldn’t hear them any longer.

The two of you let out a shared sigh, before looking back at one another. Graves had you still pinned to the wall, your legs tucked in his arms. He can’t help but chuckle. 

“This probably ain’t the best place for this, darlin'," he spoke. "As much as I want to keep going."

“I don’t know,” you joke. “I like the vibe. It’s very risqué.”

Graves smiles at you. And then, he pauses for a moment. Suddenly his eyes can’t seem to pick a spot he wants to look at on your face. You see something in him change, gears turning in his mind. Thinking of what he might say to you now. Hiding away his vulnerabilities. It makes your own mind begin to ponder.

“See something you like?” you ask him.

“I see you.”

Graves leaned in and kissed you another time, softly. Like you’d been lovers your whole lives. That’s when you realized how truly dangerous your commander could be; for a minute there, you started daydreaming about what tomorrow could bring you both. You wanted to fall for his pretty words. But then you remembered where you were, and who you were with.

This was a game. A mutual distraction. As things stand, thinking that this could be anything else beyond a good lay was purely a fantasy. You almost just lost yourself in it.

And so it goes.

"Your place or mine?”

...Chapter Two Here!

[moochi-daisies]

2015.01.

- 18+ Minors DNI

- Content Warnings: None for this chapter! Maybe a moment of tension/annoyance?

- In Summation: Two people fall in love which would make a much shorter story if they had better communication skills.

Length: 3.1k words

- Side Notes: hahaha i hit a wall in the third chapter of this part and have been avoiding tumblr all together out of Shame but maybe posting this will change that. hope you enjoy and thank you for reading :)

Find the rest here!

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

     I didn't see Yoongi or any of the guy's for two years after I left.

     Yoongi had texted me midway through my bus trip home, asking that I send back his jacket so that he could be reminded of me whenever he smelled it. He didn't say anything about his scarf, so I kept it. Sleeping with it every night for three months after I returned.

     My mom had been fuming when I got back home, taking away my phone until the next semester of school started. Claiming I "wasn't responsible enough to be trusted" and that "phone's were an adult privilege I could have after reflecting on what it meant to be an adult".

     I don't think anybody truly knows what that means.

     It was about a month afterwards that school started up again. I went to classes, handed my paychecks over to my mom and snuck out with friends whenever one was able to come pick me up. My time spent at that magical house in late November came back to me in dreams, with life going back to the way it had always been, those few days with the guy's drifted into the background like a distant memory.

     I stayed in touch with most of them though, Jimin sent dance videos and asked for story updates. Hobi would ask about life and share clips of songs he was composing. Namjoon sent pictures of them all out doing things together, at parties, on hikes - things like that. I got selfies and stream of consciousness texts from Tae whenever he was at the convenience store, sometimes he'd throw in an art piece he was working on for feedback.

     Jin called me drunk a few times or whenever he was bored at the radio station. He didn't text much beyond cryptic one word messages or to share a new terrible joke he loved.

     At first, Yoongi and I texted the most. Venting to each other about our days until night came, at which point we'd video call for hours, until one of us fell asleep.

     At first, it was talking of missing each other, reminiscing on how it felt to be near one another, how the kisses were experienced from each point of view. We laughed over how nervous and clueless we both were about how the other felt the whole time.

     At first, we'd stay up until our eyes burned and the sun started to rise again. Asking all the questions we had for each other, learning everything there was for us to learn.

     From there, we started talking about art. Exchanging poetry and books we both loved, discussing the lines that stood out or meant the most to us. Yoongi made playlists of songs for me to listen to and would quiz me on them afterwards to make sure I listened. I started practicing how to write song lyrics, sending him some verses that I hoped would be up to his standards.

     He always said that he loved them.

     "I love how your mind works." he'd often tell me, "I wish I could get inside of it.".

     And I'd get flustered to the point that I could barely respond. A cheesy grin plastered across my face as I returned the compliments, blathering on about how his creative genius inspired me.

     It was around April, when he disappeared.

     Not all at once, but-

     The messages started getting shorter.

     We stopped the video calls.

     Telling him about my day got returned with "lol's" or "ok's".

     He never told me what was happening, and I asked many, many times.

     The abrupt change in his behavior snatched my heart from my chest and began to suffocate it.

     I couldn't go back to see him again or confront him face to face through the distance.

     On our last call to each other I asked him, trying not to plead, if anything was wrong.

     If he was mad at me in any way.

     "Is there something I should be mad about?" was the only response I got.

     We didn't speak again after that call, well, I did. I messaged adamently. Trying to throw out every possible thing I could think of. I even threw out things I knew would never be the case, hoping he would get so annoyed that he'd break and tell me whatever the fuck it was that had made him so mad.

     Ever the master of self-control, he never broke.

     Jungkook and I hadn't spoken at all after I left. I figured it was for the best, that we had had the talks we needed to have. That we agreed to not tell Yoongi and to just leave it at that. It was for the best after all, right?

     Telling Yoongi we had kissed would hurt him, and Jungkook and I were not going to be together.

     Telling him would be like throwing acid at him, just to tell him that it was old acid and not to worry about it anymore.

     Two weeks after Yoongi stopped talking to me entirely however, Jungkook started to text me.

     Like it was a completely normal thing to do, like there was no reason why he wouldn't.

     There was a knife that started to twist in my gut as the "what if" game: Emotionally Heartwrenching Edition, began.

     There were a few top contenders for being the most likely.

     Either;

     1.) Jungkook had told Yoongi about what happened, and Yoongi had gotten mad. (Understandably.)

     2.)  One of the guys had let it slip by accident and Yoongi had gotten mad. (Understandably.)

     3.) Lacey had seen Jungkook and I on the dance floor, and had taken her sweet time before telling Yoongi. Maybe waiting until the trust had started to build between us, so that the breaking of it would hurt that much more. (Absolutely not understandable.)

     Jungkook mentioned nothing about it, simply picking up where we had left off, being a devastatingly good sweet talker and annoyingly easy to have conversations with.

     We had been talking for about a week before I brought it up to him. My phone rang seconds after I sent the message. I was sitting in bed, legs criss-crossed and knuckles white from death gripping my blanket.

     He had no idea what had happened, he told me. All he knew was that Yoongi had started hanging out with Lacey again after a shift at the venue. And that when the guy's had asked him about me, he had shrugged them off without saying a word about it.

     He thought we drifted apart naturally, that it was a mutual thing. That it'd be okay to talk to me again since Yoongi and I weren't anymore.

     With that, Option 3 rose to the most likely scenario and I felt sick to my stomach.

     "Oh." was all I could say. And I hated how meek my voice sounded, not wanting to ask Jungkook of all people to find out more for me.

     Jungkook took it upon himself to offer. And I thanked him, my tone falling flat and listless.

     "I swear I didn't tell him what happened baby.", he sounded desperate as he spoke, " If I had known he just dipped on you I would've brought it up sooner. I'll go talk to the guy's, he's at work right now anyways. Hang on a sec, ok?"

I couldn't form words, a small "mhm" pushed out through tightly pressed lips was all I could manage.

After Jungkook hung up, I sat there in a daze. Different scenes of Lacey telling Yoongi at work one night were flashing through my mind. I cut the less realistic ones short, tossed aside the hyper-dramatized and rapid fire edited the imagined versions down to the most probable one.

The idea of anxiety being unrealistic felt laughable. I didn't want to be right. I wished Jungkook had given any other response besides the one he did. I could've accepted that Yoongi spontaneously decided he was sick of and hated me more easily. Because at least it wasn't confirmation of what I feared to be true.

I also didn't want to accept the fault I played into this happening in the first place. No matter what Lacey said, I did kiss Jungkook. A few times. And I did have feelings for Jungkook, they were different than my feelings for Yoongi, but there all the same.

It was easier to be angry at Lacey.

I didn't keep talking to Jungkook, I had chosen to pursue things with Yoongi and Jungkook and I had come to an understanding. Who the hell did she think she was to stir things up that had been laid to rest? Things were moving forward, things were-

Jimin's name and face lit up the screen, the buzzing of the phone call making me jump.

"Hello?" My hands were clumsy and disconnected as I worked to answer.

"Lovely! Oh my god, are you ok? Well- probably not. Ok, hang on-" Jimin's sweet voice was raised, an array of voices jumbling together in the background. "GUYS! I swear to fuckin' god, we can all talk to her. She only has one pair of ears. Here, lemme get you on speaker.".

"MY ANGEL WHAT HAPPENED WITH YOONGI?!" Tae's deep voice blared through the phone so loudly it vibrated in my hand a little.

"Oooh my god shut up, she doesn't know. Hi hi! It's Hobi! We miss you!" Hobi's voice sang through the phone, slightly louder than the rustling sounds of Tae being pushed away.

"Yo! You good? We're all out here on the couch, Tae hung what you painted in the living room. Looks nice!" Namjoon's mellow voice came next.

     Against my will, I felt a smile start tugging across my face.

"Soooo, we're still us. You miss this madness? Lemme trade with you." Jin said with a groan.

"Okay, so I got everyone!" I heard Jungkook pipe up from a distance.

"Hey guys," their comforting chaos made me chuckle, "Miss you all. No trades, wish you were all here with me." I felt myself relaxing as soon as I got the words out.

"Ok, so, here's the deal. I got the scoop." Jimin started.

Stretching out onto my stomach, I laid my head on my arm, using it to press the phone against my ear. "Bless you" I sighed, chewing on my cheek. "Lay it on me please, before I drive myself insane.".

"Well, uh, Lacey saw you and Jungkook dancing and decided to tell Yoongi about it. I don't know what she said exactly, but she went real heavy on the explicit nature of the dancing. Naughty. Anyways, she convinced Yoongi to get drinks with her that night and they've been hanging out ever since." Jimin paused, huffing out air into his phone so loudly that it tickled my ear.

"Uh, yeah so, she's working real hard to try and get together with him. She felt threatened by you apparently, and is pulling this whole "sweetheart" act-"

"THAT NONE OF US ARE BUYING!" Tae interjected, grabbing the phone from Jimin.

There was a pause before any of them spoke next, muffled sounds of fighting over the phone filling the air.

"Look man, you know we don't like Lacey for Yoongi, she's always fucked with his head and we don't see this going well. But like, you know, he's a grown man. We can't tell him what to do." Namjoon was working to sound casual, but sympathy was still clear in his tone.

I didn't say anything and stared at the wall.

"Well, that sucks." was all I could think to say at first. Laughing bitterly to myself, I rolled on my back and let out a grumble.

"I mean, I did dance with Jungkook. I'm pissed she decided to say something literally months after the fact, it just feels sketchy. But, he wouldn't tell me what to do. I'm not gonna try and tell him what to do either." I said it matter of factly. Like I wasn't internally screaming an obscene string of cuss words at Lacey, Yoongi and myself.

"Be pissed girl!" Hobi hollered, "It's not just sketchy to you. We all, well, almost all of us are pissed for you." his words sped up at the end, blurring together before the phone jostled again.

Jungkook's voice was quieter than normal, sweeter than I expected it to be.

"I'm pissed for you too. It's not like I was happy not talking to you but I don't ever wanna see you hurt. I'm pissed at Yoongi for hurting you like this." it felt like he was trying to hold my heart in his hands. Gently. Not wanting to squeeze too tight.

I thanked the guys and bugged them about visiting before hanging up.

There was a ringing in my ears that made everything feel weird underneath me. Like I could feel the Earth turning but I wasn't a concrete part of it.

Jungkook called me back privately, whispering that he had stepped outside and had wanted to check in on me.

The hurt I was feeling had turned into a little devil on my shoulder, poking at every way this was all my fault.

"Baby?" Jungkook's cute little pet name for me suddenly burned.

"Mhm."

"Do you not wanna talk to me anymore? Like, are you too sad about Yoongi?" the worry in his voice sent guilt hurdling into me.

"Of course I do, I'm sorry. This just, caught me off guard. I am sad, I think I'm too thrown off to feel it right now. I don't know, we did more than just dance together y'know." I brought it up scornfully without thinking, immediately fearful that it sounded abrasive.

The smile in Jungkook's voice was poorly disguised in his response, "So, you've been thinking about us kissing?".

The cute behavior was unfair. Any time I was upset, Jungkook had an infuriatingly charming response to get me smiling again.

I wanted to wallow, dammit.

But the thought of kissing him curled my toes and if I had been strong enough, I was sure my phone would've crumbled in my hand.

I mumbled out an embarrassed, "I don't know", making Jungkook snicker before saying he'd thought about it too. Abruptly hanging up as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

There didn't seem to be a way to make it right.

It wasn't like my feelings for Yoongi had gone anywhere. They were sitting along the bottom of my ribcage and slowly gnawing away at me.

Flipping through the consequences and complications of every situation I could imagine, I landed on two options that seemed the most ethical.

Option 1: Talk to Yoongi and apologize. Possibly stop talking to all of them if he couldn't forgive me.

Option 2: Leave Yoongi alone and possibly stop talking to all of them so that I wouldn't become a source of tension for the group.

I couldn't imagine being on bad terms with just one of them, or not talking to just one of them.

I could respect Yoongi's choice and also let him know I was sorry for not telling him. That I didn't think hurting him was okay. I don't know, maybe I wanted to give him an explanation so badly in hopes that he'd understand and forgive me.

More than that though, I wanted to say sorry because I was sorry. And it felt important to say, regardless of what happened afterwards.

Despite that train of thought, it took me a month and a half to work out what to say.

And another month after that to find the courage to send it.

He never responded.

     I didn't stop talking to the others like I thought I'd have to.

And I kept talking to Jungkook.

     Whenever I couldn't sleep, he'd set up his phone so I could watch him play video games until I drifted off. He'd call me at work and ask to be held in my pocket so he could hear how my day went (it was a bad line he'd gotten from Jin, but he wound up liking doing it).

He told me that he'd apologize to Yoongi for suggesting that we don't tell him. A light of appreciation for him glowed through the layers of pain.

     It was so easy with Jungkook.

     I couldn't say when he became a part of my daily life. It was like I woke up one day and couldn't remember how life had ever felt without him.

     My feelings for him were warm, like I was always about to drift to sleep in the sunshine. We grew incredibly protective over each other, both of us having to convince the other to not make impulsive trips when one was sad.

     Anytime either of us found something interesting, we would spend the next week or two both learning about it. Blowing phone's up with fun facts and side topics that we'd come across.

     We weren't just friends. There wasn't any denying that.

     But we never talked about what we were, there was simply an understanding. Natural, simple, that was how it always felt with him.

I didn't hear back from Yoongi for almost a year and a half.

It was midday, on a Tuesday.

I had just gotten out of my last class for the day.

Yoongi called me.

"Uh, hey." his voice sounded strange, excitement helping to keep something else pushed back.

"Hey, it's been so-"

"Hey it's me, do you remember me?" Lacey's voice giggled through the speaker and my spine went rigid.

I had to keep moving, taking loops around school buildings and letting myself get lost. I told Lacey I did remember her and she squealed before saying to Yoongi, "You see? I'm very memorable.". The sound of a kiss squelched into my ear and I gritted my teeth.

Why they hell were they calling me?

"So yeah, uh, anyways, we just found a place near you. Most of the guys will come with us, Jin has to sort out some work stuff before he can join though. So uh, we'll be there in early November. See you then?". He sounded uncertain.

I was turning a corner as he said it and misjudged the distance, smacking a shoulder into concrete.

"Did you just hit something?" the concern in his voice pissed me off.

I felt stubborn for no reason.

"No.", I scoffed, "But I'm excited to see you all again. Thanks for letting me know.". Coldness felt like a necessary strategy. Especially with Lacey on the phone with us.

I didn't feel cold though, I felt like disintegrating.

They were getting a place together.

They were moving here.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

October 2023 WOTM: peonierose

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @peonierose. We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: peonierose Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Peonie or PR is fine 🥰

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

Way back when Choices first launched. My first book was The Freshman Series - book 1. It was so fun to play the books and get super excited for new chapters. I was waiting until midnight for new chapters. It was the first time I’ve played an app where I could make decisions and use diamonds for VIP scenes 😍

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the Choices fandom back in 2021. I really missed Open Heart after book 3 ended (and left me wanting more) So I wanted to see if there were any more stories I could binge, and that’s how I stumbled upon Tumblr 🥰

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

It may sound weird but it just came to me. Peonies are my favorite flowers. As soon as I thought peonie I quickly added rose and I was like that sounds so cool and it’s unique which I love 😍 And that’s how peonierose was born. 

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

Gosh. This feels like forever ago. When I first came on tumblr I didn’t post or reblog much 😅 (too shy to interact with anyone 🙈)

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

It has been 2 years in August this year since I’ve actively started writing fanfic 🥰 (I still can’t believe I actually made the leap and decided to post any of my stories). 

6- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

You’re really going to make me choose? There are so many good ones 😱

I love to write for two of my favorite books which are Nightbound and Open Heart. Those are the ones I feel most connected to 🥰 Though I’d love to venture out and make edits or social media posts for other choices books too. 

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

I wrote Robin‘s Tell-All from TNA, and it was the first fic I’ve ever shared. I really wanted to write a story from Robin‘s POV and how all that happened in TNA affected him and all the mistakes he made. 

I wanted to showcase his inner struggle. 

I remember how nervous I was to post something that I’d written. I thought to myself, will people even like my story? And if they do like it, then what? It was a great rush to see the reblogs, and the love for my first-ever posted fic. 

If I could change one thing, it would probably be the moodboard 😅

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

That is a tough question, because to me every fic I‘ve written has a special place in my heart. So every story reflects the feelings I’ve felt while writing my story. 

Buuuuut if I had to choose: It would be a tie between By a Landslide (Bryce and Luna), the 3rd chapter of my Nightbound series - Unexpected and Go with the Flow (Luna & Bryce) 

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

I actually didn’t think I’m a sucker for you, A Pinch of Pink and Blue…This one‘s for you,  Cinnamon Sugar and Wildflower, to be as well received as they did. 

However, I think Bittersweet Symphony and Losing Game (1 / 4) could use some more love. 

Both stories are amazing and I think you’ll love both my pairings. Luna & Bryce and of course Maxine and Adam. 

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

I am by no means a smut writer 😅 Maybe I’ll get there 😅 But I’d go with a mix between angst and fluff. I think a nice balance between these two would be good. 

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yeah. Tons of times. Take Luna for example. She has anxiety like me, and her appearance, such as her blue-green eyes and dark blonde hair, are like mine. But character wise we’re complete opposites. I wish I’d be more artistic like her 🩷

And Bryce is an Aries like me, and so many things he says or does make me go back, and I’m like, yeah, I would say something like that. Other than that, I’ve learned to give my characters real flaws and make them human, if that makes sense. But it does happen that they end up with character traits that are mine, and then I lean back and realize I’ve given my characters some of my weird and quirky character traits 🤣

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Damn. Umm…I struggle with a lot of things. Finding the right words sometimes because English isn’t my first, not even my second language. I speak six languages, so it's sometimes hard to find the words to describe things. 

Showing, not telling that’s another thing I struggle with. 

That and if I have to keep a deadline to post something 🤣 Because it takes me forever to post anything I’m not 100% behind and happy with. 

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

How much time you’ve got? I have over 30 wips, that want some desperate attention, and I always keep adding new wips, whenever something inspires me to write 😅 

I’ve found some new inspo for Somewhere Only We Know 🥰 Apart from that I’d love to take another look at my two AU‘s Amber & my Nightbound series. So we’ll see what wips I can manage to finish 😅 

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first? 

Sure. I’d love to get an outside opinion of my work and my characters that are so beloved and close to my heart 🩷

I actually tell people that I write fanfic and original work. And I’ve sent some samples their way and they liked it. Which makes me feel more confident in my writing (not saying it’s perfect, there’s always room for improvement, but it’s getting better). 

As for which story to start? I’d say start with Only Love for Bryce and Luna. That was my first story of them and I consider it their start. 

Then continue with Always & Forever and Go with the Flow. 

Those were my first posted stories about Luna & Bryce and I think you’ll like them. It would give you a good understanding of my storytelling and my characters. 

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing? 

There are a couple of authors I admire - Chloe Neil, Elise Kova, Nalini Singh, Rachel Caine (R.I.), Rebecca Yarros, and many more. They have influenced and shaped my writing, my fantasy world-building, and, of course building my characters. These authors know how to tell great stories, which makes me admire them so much. 

As for fanfic writers who’ve inspired me? I’d love to give a special shoutout to one of my closest friends who’s been my beta reader for almost anything @annieruok She’s an amazing person and writer. Thanks so much for all the times listening to my ramblings about scenes and characters 🩷 

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

My Nightbound series hands down. That is a story that really deserves to be on the big screen or as a Netflix show. I’m not picky. 

I’d love to see Grey, Gretel and Hänsel kick some ass. It’s a unique enough story to garner some attention 🥰 I’ve worked really hard to write it and it took me a year to come up with chapters, character names and so forth. 

Also Somewhere Only We Know would be cool to see on the big screen. I’d probably weep from joy if any of my stories were ever developed as a movie or series 🥰🥹

17- Do you write original fiction? 

Yes, I actually do. I have several original works in my Google docs. And just recently, I had an idea for another original story (I don’t feel comfortable sharing it yet) 🥰 But let’s just say it’s fun to come up with the characters and world-building and everything in between. 

18 -  What other hobbies do you have?

Reading books, trying out new recipes in the kitchen. This also reminds me I need to exercise more 🤣 

Taking walks & going shopping. 

Hanging out with friends and binge watching shows and movies on Disney+ and Netflix. Just trying to  enjoy every single moment that every day has to offer 🩷 

19 - What’s your favorite emoji? 

It’s a toss between these three 🥰😍🩷 (What can I say I love pink 🩷 not just because of the new Barbie movie and the pinkmania 🩷) 

20: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

First, I wanted to say thank you to everyone. For being picked as writer of the month is a huge honor 🥰 Thank you to everyone who has ever taken the time to read my stories, reblog them, and leave some unbelievably nice words. 

I’m very grateful that you guys took the time to shower me with love. Sometimes, I wonder what I did to deserve some of your nice words and love. I also wanted to give a special shoutout to some of the people who are very dear to me. 🩷 

Thank you guys for supporting me. Being there for me - through great and not so great times - I‘ll never be able repay your kindness 🩷 You guys make me strive to be a better version of myself and I couldn’t be more happy to call you my friends 🩷

@annieru0k @cariantha @txem @doriopenheart @mysticalgalaxy @aallotarenunelma @inlocusmads @heavenssexiestangel @socalwriterbee @secretaryunpaid @ofmischiefandmedicine @starrystarrytrouble @the-pale-goddess @takemyopenheart @quixoticdreamer16 @princess-geek @eleanorbloom

[dunno1234]

Gideon the Ninth review, I guess

So, Gideon the Ninth, huh? The darling of Tumblr, along with the rest of TLT. I read it. Finished yesterday. And now, for my first post ever on Tumblr, I'll also make my first full review of a book. It'll probably be long. I'll divide this in the following sections: Prose (yes, we're starting with it); characters; story; what I liked; and what I really wish had been done. Full spoilers for literally everything in the first book, and warning that I did not like the book much. It's like, 3 stars. But hey, that was a passing grade in college, and thus I'll also read the next book. Also, it will be extremely rambly. I did an editing pass, but to ramble is my nature.

Prose

This is the most relevant aspect to my experience, which is really sad, because I hated it. And it's really weird, because it's the first time I disliked a technically good prose (and I assure you, the prose is good in the technical aspect). The descriptions are very verbose (I learned 4 new words while reading it), but also, well, descriptive, and it has its own distinctive style, and theoretically I would've enjoyed it a lot. So, why did I not? Well, the quips. Oh boy, the quips. They were extremely prevalent throughout the story and I hated almost all of them (other than the Dr. Skelebone one. That one was great, specially how they committed to it), and they actively ruined my experience because I was always bracing myself for them. Another thing I heavily disliked was the use of parentheses to denote both thoughts and quips characters said (I think parentheticals do not belong in prose in any situation, and this book just reinforced that belief). And the funny thing is, it's not as if I'm against the idea of it. Pale Lights (which I absolutely recommend) is also in third-person limited and uses quips during the dialogue, but the main difference is, well, I like how it works in PL and not here, I guess. And it sucks, because, if I dislike the prose, I automatically dislike the entire book experience, since it is an always-present aspect of it. I would even have preferred aggressively mediocre prose, like anything written by Wildbow, over what I got here.

Characters

I loved Palamedes and Camilla.

I liked Harrow, and Gideon was well-written.

Coronabeth, Naberius, and Ianthe were somewhat interesting, or at least interesting ideas behind them (and Naberius had a parrying dagger, which is extremely hot). Would've been good if Coronabeth had existed after the Ianthe review, though. I assume the intention is that she becomes relevant in HtN?

Teacher was fun.

Silas Octakiseron (worst surname in a cast full of impressively bad surnames (although I don't think that they are actual surnames since Harrow's parents have different surnames than her)) is a good antagonist, I guess. Brother Asht had a cool scene.

I have run out of characters to say positive things about.

This is mean (and honestly most of this review will be mean), but yeah... I don't care about anyone else. Most of them are one note with barely any personality traits, and there are simply too many of them for the story's own good. Who cares about the Second House members, who are so irrelevant that I don't even know who is the cav and who is the necro. Magnus was kind to Gideon, but he was also obviously going to be sacced from the start, while his wife I don't even remember having dialogue. Both of the Fourth were developed literally the same chapter as they died, and while they were mildly amusing before, I never got to care about them. Dulcinea/Cytherea was a twist villain, and not a good one. Her cav was literally dead before arrival.

The main problem of the cast, I think, is how they all have to share screentime (or pagetime, I guess) with everyone else. I don't get to see Naberius's life history and training to be sad about his death, when I also have to get attached to Fourth Necro (I do not remember his name) for his death. As a result, none of them get the necessary focus, and they fall flat to me. The worst offenders are the Second, who are completely indistinct from each other and whose only impact in the story is killing teacher and calling Necrolord Prime, two actions that Cytherea could've done with barely any rewriting.

The romance between Harrow and Gideon also fell pretty flat. Gideon spends 90% of the story flirting with Coronabeth and Dulcinea, while Harrow is either not in the scene or emotionally distant, and then in the last couple chapters she gives The Reveal in the pool (which revealed barely anything) and in the penultimate chapter we see how much she actually loves Gideon.

Palademes and Camilla were cool as fuck, though.

Story

It started pretty good before they left Drearbuh (of whatever it's called), but as soon as they arrived in the First planet, it just meandered. I've seen some people who actually liked the book, and they also seemed to agree that it was slow, but I don't think it improved greatly later on. After Palamedes and Camilla first appeared and Gideon was finally allowed to speak it did pick up, and the tests she and Harrow did were fun, but soon after the story became about who has which keys, and I refuse to believe anyone was interested about that part.

Eventually, it had the plot twist that Ianthe is actually a fucking genius who is proving Palamedes wrong about him being the best necro of his generation (sadly) and she fights the Eighth and kills them and also apparently Dulcinea isn't Dulcinea and Palamedes kills himself to kill her but it doesn't work and the remaining characters take turns to kill her until Gideon sacrifices herself and Harrow kills her. And then we get an epilogue.

So, 90% of the story is contained in the last 10% of it. This is not good. The pacing of this book sucks. The last 10% of it is pretty good, but that does not redeem the rest. There is also a lot of telling instead of showing. We only see Ianthe after she becomes a Lyctor; Palamedes's backstory is told by Camilla literally a chapter before the reveal; we never get to see the Second killing Teacher; we never see Silas grabbing Dulcinea's keys. Gideon as the PoV character doesn't really work, because she only becomes the central point of the story at the very end, and for the most part everyone else is doing their own things out of screen.

What I liked

I already said this, but Palamedes and Camilla were great. Harrow was very fun, and, while I did not enjoy Gideon, she was pretty well written.

The setting was very interesting, and felt much bigger than what we saw. I wish that the glossary had been at the start of the book, but it isn't that big of a problem. The necromancy was also fun, with all of the different styles, although I wish it were better explained (and I understand that it probably wasn't because Gideon knows dick about shit about it, but it doesn't really change me having a problem with it).

The last two chapters were easily the best in the book. Like, I genuinely liked them. This is mostly because Gideon wasn't the PoV, I'll admit, but the Necrolord Prime (I do not remember if he's actually called that or not, but I'll still call him that) was very fun in the like, three pages he was in.

What I Really Wish Had Been Done

So, I'll try to be as direct as possible. Have multiple PoVs. Preferably one for each House. This could solve literally every problem I denoted here. The Ianthe reveal came out of nowhere? Well, now we can properly set it up. The Palamedes backstory was explained through exposition two pages before it became relevant? Well, instead of Camilla giving it, we see him think about it. I hate the quips? Other characters won't have quips. The story meanders at the start? Go to characters who have stuff to do. And you can even use the skulls besides the chapter number with the Houses to signify which character is the PoV, and, at the epilogue, have it for the first time have the skull of the First. Wouldn't that be a cool usage of it? I am completely aware that this would require completely rewriting the book, but I think it'd be worth it.

Conclusion

I'll still read the next book, and I will probably enjoy it more due to not having constant quips and Ianthe presumably having focus, although I've heard from multiple people that it's confusing as fuck. So yeah, I'm decently hyped for Harrow the Ninth, and if I have was many thoughts about it I'll probably also write a review. Also, hey, Reddit!

[1indigoisles]

My Intro

Hi, I'm Indigo Isles, and this has long since been due, and when my dumb brain found out you can pin posts, well, the rest is history. Anyway, here's some things about me.

My hobbies are reading, writing, playing my instruments (piano, ukulele, and mandolin), and drawing (although that's only when I have a muse). But, honestly, writing is my world. I'll admit, when I was younger, I never thought that that was something that I could do - I never even considered trying it out. It didn't even occur to me. Up until then, reading was my sanctuary. But slowly, as I read all these really great books, there were these moments when I felt like something was off, that something was missing. And I know that a lot of people say that for a lot of different reasons, but what they mean is that they've felt a terrible sort of emptiness in their gut that they can't live without filling. You know what you need to do for it to go away, but it won't go away until you actually do something about it.

That is basically one of the reasons I signed into Tumblr, so that I can share my stories with anyone who'll stop and read. Because I have stories that I really, really want to share. I'm open for advice and criticism and I'll always answer questions about myself or my novels and stories.

My idol is Cassandra Clare, and if you don't know who she is, I suggest you google her, right now! Her books are what I turn to when I face writer's block, or if I'm looking for inspiration not to give up on my stories, or if I just had a really bad day. A lot of things could go wrong for me before I decide Cassandra Clare's The Shadowhunter Chronicles don't make me feel better anymore.

I'll be posting my first novel, Land of Crooked Magic chapter by chapter. It may get irregular depending on how difficult it'll be to write. I'm sorry, I know that's not what people really like, but it may also be sooner, you never know. I can promise you, though, I'll keep up on it and I won't stop until it's done.

[alovelyburn]

when griffith came the seer girl commented on looking for morning stars I think this is referencing griffith comparing griffith to lucifer/satan heck there was a image with a crucified white hawk. and griffith is the black hawk ( femto) while guts is the white hawk ( his hair will turn white)

Okay Tumblr spontaneously ate this post once already so forgive me if I'm a bit harried, but I'll try to recreate it.

So there are a few problems with this theory, the most obvious of which is that Guts isn't associated with Hawks at all - he's a dog/wolf. Suddenly making him the Hawk of Light would come from absolutely nowhere and make no narrative sense, there's no foreshadowing, and no basis on which to rest that other than the assumption that the protagonist must be light/good and the antagonist must be dark/evil. The idea that Moonkid is the Hawk of Light has much greater support within the mythos of the story, and even then it's only because he's sharing Griffith's body so he's kind of a Hawk too.

Getting to the crucified bird situation:

Sure there's a crucified black hawk, which likely does reference Griffith, but...

There is also a crucified white hawk, which clearly also references Griffith - as a reference to Guts this is a nothing burger, but as a reference to Griffith it is full of meaning; the behelit is obvious, but the two snakes could represent Griffith himself and the Moonkid - two souls that inhabit the same body - or Guts and Casca, the two whose "betrayal" ultimately broke him. The latter theory also dovetails nicely with the fact that Casca appears to be named after a series of books about a Roman Soldier who struck the blow that killed Christ and was cursed to wander aimlessly until the second coming because of it.

...and also it’s a White Hawk.

And notably, the symbol of the Holy See, which is the Hawk of Light, is a direct abstraction of the Crucified White Hawk, not the Black one:

Moreover, Griffith is actively associated with both light and darkness - his personality, his presence, his morality, all echo the themes of interconnected light and dark, good and evil. Most notably in Ganishka's final scene, where Griffith appears as Femto - a dark figure surrounded by light with glowing white eyes...

...and promptly references his role as "he who bears the light" yet "exists in the deepest shadow."

...along with what I frankly think is Berserk's core concept: the interconnection of light and darkness both literally (as in light and shadows) and metaphorically (as in good and evil), all of which are different angles of the same thing in this world.

This "Griffith is the Hawk of Darkness and [someone else] is the Hawk of Light" thing seems to be an attempt to break things into Guts is Good/a Hero and Griffith is Bad/a Villain, but that doesn't work here, because that's not what MIURA believed or was trying to do.

The fact that Miura did not want to fall into standard God/Devil type patterns has been stated directly:

Is it possible that even god and the devil are involved in the story?

I don't even think about it. If I used words like 'god' and 'devil' the world of my story would become more limited, devoid of depth and originality. God and the devil are creatures made by human thought. This discourse is similar to the paradox of the chicken and the egg: which of the two comes first? The existence of god and devil are a reflection of human existence. -- Miura in the Berserk 1997 artbook interview.

As have his attempt to avoid simple good/evil and enemy/ally distinctions:

Interviewer: On the Griffith route, he starts to look like the protagonist

Miura: […] Manga characters tend to be judged as enemies or allies -- good or evil -- but I'm trying not to create Berserk using such a value system. Griffith is Griffith and he seems appealing, but maybe from his side Guts looks like the villain. - Miura in the interview at the back of the Berserk Guidebook

This is also evident in the lost chapter, where the Idea of Evil states:

That he is able to bring pain or salvation to humanity as is appropriate because his actions, being very human, will inevitably produce the appropriate outcome (and of course, it's stated many times that Griffith embodies humanity's will). Which makes sense since Miura also said that the conflict between Guts and Griffith is a conflict between Guts as a representative of the individual and Griffith as a representative of the collective/group.

(“That chapter was removed from canon.” Yeah he took it out because it revealed too much too soon, not because he regretted what it said.)

Griffith is and was always intended to be morally complicated. The point of his character is that he encompasses the best and worst of things - he is both the messiah and the antichrist. He is both a hero and a villain. Innocent like a child and vindictive, petty and cold in turns. This is laid out by Judeau at the beginning of the series but repeated by Miura himself who stated that Griffith is intended to be a questionmark that can be seen differently depending on who's looking and who leaves no definitive impression with regards to his intent, but if he had to describe him as anything it would be childlike and mysterious.

In short, he encompasses both light and dark. That's the point. If you focus entirely on one side of his personality then you miss half the character.

This also applies to Guts, by the way. They make different choices because they have different priorities but ultimately they're both capable of both ends of the moral spectrum, their limits are just set in different spots.

...also. Not for nothing, but the Hawk of Light is a part of the Holy See's religion, and they literally worship the Idea of Evil (though they obviously don't call it that). The entire mythology was constructed by IoE (or its people, I mean I doubt that heart can hold a pen) - it's not like there's an independent prophecy about a Hawk of Light that will save people from darkness or anything, it's part of the dogma of a religion dedicated to IoE, and the we start hearing about it around the time Griffith dropped a dream on most of Midland, you know?

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 8 of Gideon the Ninth

So, confirmed from the non-Ninth prayer that the Emperor is in fact God/John? It also seems to describe him as "The Lyctor divinely ordained", but, as we finally learn in this chapter, the Lyctors are actually a different set of people who seem to be not quite as immortal as the Emperor, and if *he* was "divinely ordained", that means there must be some other god somewhere who ordained him, right? Is that not what those words mean? And now I know why Gideon thinks Harrow is going to live forever. I am placated

The difference in the prayers is interesting. It reminds me of when, coming from a Reform background, my parents enrolled me in a Jewish Day School when I was growing up and then I went to prayers in the morning, and some of them were the same, and some of them were subtly different, and there were just also entire sections of the prayer book that were completely, 100% new to me. Like, "praised be to God who gives life to the dead", "praised be to God for not making me a woman", these are things we say, here? Where are the Mothers of the Torah in this prayer, what is this new prayer about, oh, it is praising God for drowning the Egyptians, that's lovely. Turns out the Reform movement made a lot of (very good, actually) changes to the prayer book, and absolutely no one warned me about this. So anyway, I unexpectedly relate directly to this

I did sort of figure that that prayer might be specific to the Ninth, though, since it mentions the Locked Tomb, which was established as an actual thing on Pluto, and also the Locked Tomb is mentioned in the name of the house in the Dramatis Personae

I absolutely love the sheer trolling audacity of the priest being all "Hey, you guys are here to learn how to become demigods. No one actually has any idea how that's going to work, good luck!" This sounds like a perfect recipe for total chaos

I have to take some umbrage at the whole thing of Gideon not knowing what a day/night cycle is because of the relative rates of the spin of the planets. Pluto's day is only 6 days long. At the beginning of the book, Gideon said there was not going to be light for *months*, which I took to mean that they were somewhere in the arctic circle (which is not that odd, since Pluto has an axial tilt that means that like half the planet is in one of the arctic circles), but like I said before, I don't feel like that particular paragraph actually makes a lot of sense with Pluto's orbit anyway, unless some words are being used in a very strange way. So anyway, I think if Gideon is confused about day/night cycles, it's because she's used to living in the arctic circle and logically could not possibly have ever seen actual sunlight at any point in the past 18 years, and is nothing to do with how slow Pluto spins, and Harrow is being just as dumb as Gideon here, which is frankly impressive

We have reached Act 2, and I think this is the last post on this I make before I get on a plane on Monday. I am queuing this for tomorrow (Monday), but my plane is not until 4 so god knows I will probably be on tumblr in the meantime

Ok, wait, one last thing. I am noticing the skulls at the top of the chapters. Initially I saw the skulls and was like, ok, nine skulls go with nine houses and there are nine chapters in Act 1 and each of the nine skulls with go with each chapter in some way, but that's not how it's working. There are only eight chapters, and all of them have skull 9, except for Chapters 3, 7, and 8, which have skull 1. 7 and 8 make sense, since they take place in the First House and all the rest take place in the Ninth House. But what about Chapter 3? Why does Chapter 3 have a skull 1? Is it because that's the chapter where Harrow shared the Emperor's letter? But there was another letter in Chapter 5, and Chapter 5 has a skull 9 just like the others.

Stealth editing one more time because I just realized what the Locked Tomb prayer makes me think of:

The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it. The way is shut.

[5-puthyyy]

HIIIIIIIIII BAAAAAABE *hugs you*

Well, I hope you are doing well and that your job is going great (OMGGG YOU HAVE A JOOOB, CONGRATULATIONS *hugs you agaaain*)

I've been here since you brought crusher to life and got me hooked on your perfect writing, I commented on each chapter here on Tumblr because I think it's a crime to read such a good fanfic and not comment,I may have deleted several accounts but I always came back here because you are definitely my favorite author and it will always leave me amazed at how from a fanfic reader insert you managed to create one of the best characters I've ever seen, crusher will always be sitting in a special place in my heart and mind and I think that everyone I know has read your fanfics because whenever I know someone reads fanfic the first author I recommend is you 🫣

It doesn't matter if I have new interests, meet new characters, read new fanfics, it simply doesn't matter crusher will always be my favorite "character" and you will always be my favorite author so take all the time you want, focus on your work, on your life and rest assured that no matter how long you take, you will always have your loyal readers here when you have the time and mind to focus on your writing.

Thank you for sharing what that brilliant mind of yours imagines and for taking the time to create all these perfections in the form of fanfic.

Look at the size of this message, it's so fucking big I'm sorry *hides behind the door* anywaaaay, I hope I didn't upset you with this long message, I was rereading crusher and I felt like I should say something nice to you, sweetheart soooo byeeeeeeee and see ya soon 🫂🫂🫂🫂

HI SWEETHEART!!!! *hugs you tighter*

this is super super super sweet :) my job is going great, i absolutely love it and i get to do and talk about what im passionate about!! (books lol)

crusher will never die lol. i very much appreciated every single one of your comments, all your love and support; it's a reason why i keep writing even if it's a few paragraphs per day with how busy i am now. i want to get this done, im going to get this done. crusher's story isn't complete just yet and you guys will get the ending you deserve!

this series means a lot to me; crusher means a lot to me. there's a bit of me in her and i'm just really proud of what i've created.

you have no idea how much this message means to me! there are so so so many talented writers out there and for you to declare me as your favourite is so heartwarming. i'm honoured, really. i hope to conitnue to live up to that expectation :)

you could never upset me with long messages lol don't be ridiculous! make em longer haha 😂 take care of yourself!! thank you so much for taking the time to write to me! see you soon <3

[ravenyenn19]

not really a question but i just want you to know how grateful i am for u and all u do. ur writing is a constant in my life now, it’s like… always rolling through my mind akskks i go back read chapters whenever im having a bad day or just cause i feel like i want to and i miss the feeling it gave me. ive read it like 3 times and it remains the best literature ive read in a long time. i recommended it to my friend too and he and i are obsessed and share theories and cry and laugh about it together. thank u so much for giving more life to these characters i love so much 🥺 and thats without even mentioning the rest of ur writing which is all so so so incredible and i have no words to describe it

i know ur not on twitter and that’s absolutely fine but just know dwod is so so so loved on there. ur one of the things keeping soctwt alive! in a non-creepy way, i mainly made a tumblr account again so i can keep up with ur updates here and it’s been really fun sksksk

on another note, i can’t wait for ur first novel !!!!! im egyptian and when i saw it was gonna be like a moon knight meets six of crows type thing i screamed

i wish i could gift u something. i know u love putting a song by chapter soo i’ll leave u this playlist i made filled with songs that i believe fit dwod! whether it’s a vibe or a character or a fleeting moment 💕

to end this, i just want to say thank u again. and please don’t ever feel pressured to post quicker or post more. take care 💘

no mourners.

Oh my gosh… I’m so sorry I missed this. I’m not sure when you sent it bc I didn’t see a notification, but I want you to know that this beautiful message made my absolute day, today. Thank you so so much for being here, sincerely. I say it in my notes all the time but readers like you literally make my day to day life a better place to be. 🖤

No, I’m not on Twitter! But that means so much that my story has been talked about on there, I had no idea. Thank you very much- maybe I’ll make one eventually? I’m not sure!

Im so glad you want to read my book!!!! ahhh!!! Such a huge compliment. Im so excited to have it out there in the world one of these days. Thank you again!

PS- I’m totally going to check out the playlist!!! I’m stoked!

Thank you again for just being here, supporting me, and reading what I write. Your words literally mean so much. 🖤

No funerals, lovely.

[mikaelsrose]

Fic Writer Ask Game

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

💖 What made you start writing?

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. [I actually don't know if you should pick or I should pick, let's pick both. Or just pick one, you decide. You pick a character and tell your headcanon and/or I pick Nik Ryder and you tell me a few headcanons.]

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

(I've already answered this one, so I'll just paste the answer again) I'm gonna go with Where do broken hearts grow? because it's an emotional rollercoaster (for me) and I was very stressed about posting it. At that time I felt that I went too far for a fanfic and if I remember correctly that chapter was 4 different versions which were toned down a lot, but then I thought "meh, what the hell" and posted it at 2 am 😂

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic? I had a class called "creative writing" for two semesters which I liked to call "fanfic writing 101" and I always joked with my friends that I'll ace this class (which I did haha) because I used to be a very prolific fanfic writer since I was 12. So a few people know I used to write but do not know the specifics and do not know I still do it (and they won't find out")😁

💖 What made you start writing?

(I've already answered this one, so I'll just paste the answer again) When I joined tumblr choices fandom there were already many fics, but most of them were still set in the original blades universe, and I wanted something different. I'm a sucker for the domestic vibes and angst (together, preferably, lol) so assuming the "write what you want to read" stance I just sat down and wrote my first fic which I am too ashamed to look at now 😁

❌ What's a trope you will never write? mpreg + any fucked up things like in*est, the rest is up for discussion (but pls be reasonable)

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

I can't think of anything, really. Maybe I'm a mastermind? 🤔

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please! + 🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

I decided to merge these two questions into one. I started writing short fics for Lucifer x MC, but I'm still not sure if I'll ever post them 🤐 Perhaps. But here's a snippet:

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. [I actually don't know if you should pick or I should pick, let's pick both. Or just pick one, you decide. You pick a character and tell your headcanon and/or I pick Nik Ryder and you tell me a few headcanons.]

Okay, call me dumb, but I also don't understand 😂😂😂 Let's just do it like you said, the second option, I'll give you headcanons for Nik in my fics.

I don't have that many for him, honestly, he's still in the making, but here's what I can think of for now:

he curses a lot

after the whole bloodwraith case, he took 3 months off and chilled in Costa Rica 🍹

he started a "secret" project meaning reading about the fae (history, politics, all that jazz) after Cal mentioned to him that Niamh basically disappeared from Earth 🤐

he might or might not have a fling with someone 🤐🤐

he hates portals (and just like Geralt of Rivia he always makes everyone aware of that)

he had a nasty fall out with Cal, so they're not on the best of terms

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write? Niamh and Jude. Niamh because I decided to start my series a year after the events of nightbound + she didn't exactly have much personality in the book, so I feel like a can do basically anything with her - and it's the same with Jude since he's my OC.

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

I don't know if I'd say it broke my heart, but it definitely makes me very melancholic and nostalgic and leaves me with a heavy heart, it's the one I've already mentioned > Where do broken hearts grow?

[1800titz]

hii! i wanted to share some input about the patreon because hopefully it may be insightful (?) i absolutely love your writing and want to support it on patreon but don’t know if i will ever be able to (financially, even though it’s priced reasonably) :/ I love the idea for the patreon to be able to have sneak peaks early access and even exclusive series but to not do any full series on wattpad/tumblr after TGIAG makes me so sad. I don’t know if i was interpreting that last ask wrong but to just get the first chapter on here knowing I probably won’t get to see the rest makes me :( although i respect your decision i know you put a lot of effort into writing i can imagine there may be a lot who will miss it

Hi love, thank you for wanting to support me, and I understand that not everyone is able to at this time. I understand that it can be disheartening to hear that a lot of my upcoming works will move behind a paywall, but I want to make it abundantly clear that tumblr will still receive content. Most of the series I am planning will end up as exclusives on patreon, but that doesn't mean that tumblr will not receive one shots and such. I hate to admit it, but I'm just not in a place right now where I am able to just spend tons and tons of time creating free content. I have crazy, crazy bills (just like loads of others on this app) and my time can either be spent on an unrelated job to make money, or spent a bit more on writing to generate income. Patreon is, right now, the only way I am able to really spend time on writing, and it allows me to generate a bit of an income doing something I absolutely love to do. The reason that updates had become so sparse (prior to me starting a patreon) was because I simply do not have the time to create tons and tons of free content when I have to spend so much time working. Now that there is an income from it, I am able to spend more time on it. Does that make sense? That being said, I do have to prioritize creating content for paying customers, because they're paying me for a product or service (in this case, my writing). Like I said, I understand that not everyone who wants to subscribe will be able to, and I don't expect anyone to subscribe by any means (I am still in shock, flattered, and insanely grateful for all of the support I have received on patreon in such a short time span). At the end of the day, though, you could love a published writer's work, and writers still aren't publishing their books and giving them out for free, you know what I mean? If it makes you upset that the rest of a series will be behind a paywall, I totally get that, and I intend to post these first parts on to tumblr with full disclosure that the rest will only be accessible on patreon. Really, the beginnings of patreon exclusive series will be shared to give new people a little sample so that they can decide whether they would like to subscribe or not. With love, I recommend that you don't read them if it will bother you.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC Writer of the Month: GenevieveMD

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @genevievemd! We hope you will enjoy learning more about her and her work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: genevievemd Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr?  Sara

1- When did you start playing Choices? What's the first book you played? 

I honestly don’t remember, probably back in like 2017, 2018. I was playing it with the oldest of the kids I nannied at the time and also by myself cause I enjoyed it. We did it like a little book club together. It was also back when the app was not as spicy lol. We played America’s Most Eligible together, but my first book was Rules of Engagement. 

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the fandom officially back in October of 2020, I had lost interest in the app and then found it again during the pandemic. I finished book one of Open Heart and got sucked in. I fell in love with the characters and then rushed to finish what was out of Book 2 at the time (chapter 8). And then I lucked on Tumblr for a bit, stalked @jamespotterthefirst (lol), and then after chapter 17, I joined for real and wrote my first fic. And I’ve been here ever since. 

3- How did you pick your url name? 

It’s my MC’s name, and what I imagined her instagram/social media handle would be. 

4- Go back to your archive and tell us about the first post on your Choices blog. 

OMG, my first legit post was actually me reblogging a post I made on my real blog about Open Heart. I was asking people what we thought Ethan called MC as a pet name for the fic I was writing. 

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Oh man, way too freakin long. At least 15 years was totes part of the fanfiction.net phase of the internet. I used to write for a couple of shows I was into, but I didn’t get super into writing fanfiction until the show Once Upon a Time. And then I wrote all the time for my favorite ship, Captain Swan. They’re all still up on my main blog. 

6- What is your favorite Choices book to write about?

I’ve actually only written for one, Open Heart. I’ve never had the desire or inspiration for any other book. Even though I’ve played a bunch of books. 

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it or would you change anything about it?

Do I have to? Lol A Love Like This

It was called A Love Like This, and I hate it. I think mostly because I didn’t have a true voice for Genevieve or my interpretation of Ethan. I contemplate deleting it from my masterlist all the time, but it was part of my journey in the OPH/Choices fandom and paved the way to finding my MC’s voice and my own writing style. So I keep it. 

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

So many lol But I think my all-time favorite would be my series The Year Between. Does that count? It was the first major series I’ve ever written… ever and it tackled so many things about my characters. My second fav is Breathe Through – it was a very personal piece and means a lot to me. 

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but could use a little more love?

Oh totally. My first ever smut fic, Something About You. I was not expecting people to be as into it as much as they were. I was pleasantly surprised because our fandom has so many amazing smut writers, and I don’t compare at all. 

As for one I think needs more love? I honestly can’t decide. For as long as I’ve been in this fandom, every fic I’ve posted has been met with so much love and support I can’t think of any that I wish had gotten more. (Maybe my second smut fic, Sunset Glow, only cause I think it got lost in the Smutober chaos, lol)

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

Angsty Fluff. Best of both worlds. It also gives you more options with like fic topics. I like for my fictional worlds to feel a little more real, so people can relate more and I think angsty fluff allows for that. You can have the struggle and sadness but with a happy ending. 

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

LMAO Yes. Genevieve is me but smarter. Most of her traits are my own, including her anxiety and I’ve always used writing her a comfort, a way to express myself in a way that’s healing. If that makes any sense. She’s like the version of me I’d want to be one day. Just not a doctor cause I can’t handle other peoples bodily fluids. Lol 

My OC, Natalie Michaels has a bit of me in her too, but not as much as Genevieve. 

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

I call it the in between bits, the descriptive parts between dialogue. I think that has to do with my schooling background. I went to college for film and television and did a lot of screen writing for my classes and so dialogue has always come so easy to me. I envision fics like scenes from an episode or movie, so getting the in between parts of fics can be challenging for me. 

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

So many. The epilogue to The Year Between, a valentines day fic, the rest of the Absence Makes the Heart… series. I hope to get back to them one day, but I’ve learned that I can’t force my brain to write because I never like my work when I do. When I’ll wait until the inspiration for them returns, and then I’ll finish them. 

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first? 

Yes. I’m so proud of the world I created from Open Heart and if someone wanted to read them I’d let them. I’d just give them the link to the masterlist for Open Heart: Sara’s Version and say, “Start from the top” lol 

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

IRL writers? No. I don’t read a lot outside of fanfiction which is horrible lol, but in the random, there are a few. Bree @jamespotterthefirst is a huge inspiration for me. She was one of if not the first people I read when I joined, and I’m just in awe of her work. Everything she writes is amazing and brings me so much joy. Others are @jerzwriter and @potionsprefect, and some who aren’t in the fandom anymore.

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

All of my universe, aka Open Heart: Sara’s Version. As I said earlier, I write like I’m writing a tv show lol So I wanna see my version of Open Heart as a show. 

17- Do you write original stories? 

I don’t but I think about turning OPH: SV into an original series.

18 -  What other hobbies do you have?

I love playing video games. I’m not good, but I enjoy it. I’m super lame and don’t have many hobbies outside of writing and video games… I should get some lmao 

19 - What’s your favorite emoji? 

The double pink heart