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thoughtfulfiction · 19 hours ago

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The Game Plan

Author’s note: Merry Christmas Bolt fam🩵Still working on rewrites but I needed to write something new to get inspired. I am done with school so I’ll hopefully be able to get fics out more often!

Last time he was this nervous, he stood on shaky legs in front of a New York crowd accepting the William V. Campbell trophy. Public speaking wasn’t his favorite thing in the world and he hated talking about himself. But this was about a hundred times more important. And more nerve wracking.

When Justin suggested flying to your hometown to spend some time with your parents, you didn’t bat an eye. You’d been talking about making a trip back home after the season was over and were elated to discover that he was on the same page. Now that the time had come and you were looking at him as he drove the rental car to your family home, you couldn't help but think maybe he was regretting his decision. The man was constantly fidgeting in his seat, his grip on the steering wheel tight, eyes full of stress and semi concern.

"You okay?" You furrowed your eyebrows at him, urging your boyfriend to let you in on whatever was causing him such turmoil.

"What? Oh yeah no, I'm fine." He knew that sounded less than convincing. "It's just weird with the season being over. Almost like I have to learn how to relax again. This week will be good though."

Nodding in understanding, you place a hand on his leg hoping that the simple touch will ease his mind. Little did you know he was in the midst of a huge inner crisis. Justin rehearsed what he was going to say a few more times before pulling into your parent's driveway. Swallowing down his nerves, he grabbed your suitcase and his, walking toward the front door feeling like his legs weighed a ton each.

Your mom had already taken you away to the kitchen by the time he walked in, immediately lost in conversation about work and life while your dad grabbed one of the bags out of Justin's hands. The two men trudged up the stairs to drop off the bags, exchanging pleasantries and getting settled in before heading to the backyard to cook. Your dad loved Justin. He was the perfect partner for you, a perfect mix of fun/exciting and responsible/caring. He had seen you fall more and more in love with the quarterback over the years which made it easy to love him too. And getting to talk about football all day with someone who actually valued such intimate conversations about the sport helped.

All of the distracting small talk was out of the way, Justin had complimented your dad on his new grill and the improvements he'd made on the backyard and they had unpacked some of the nitty gritty details of the season and who your dad thought they should draft as perfect additions to the roster for the next season and the only thing that remained was the pit of nerves in his stomach that hadn't disappeared since boarding the plane.

"Something on your mind?" Your dad was observant, not really one to beat around the bush. He'd noticed a slight edge to Justin's voice since the two of you had arrived and was really trying to wait to give him some time. He'd obviously gotten too impatient. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Justin's had relationships before. Not many times, but he's felt security and love in other people, seeing a future with them and thought about what the rest of his life would look like. Being with you was not only the most serious relationship he'd ever been in but he found himself constantly planning for the future and setting his family up for long-term success, a family that he now couldn't envision without you. He swallowed thickly, suddenly overcome with emotion at the words that he needed to express to your father. "There is something on my mind actually," he clears his throat, trying really hard to maintain eye contact and not look down at the grill. "I wanted to come here first thing to ask you for your permission."

"My...permission?"

"Your permission, your blessing. Either one. Or both." Your boyfriend rambles on nervously, the words tumbling out of his mouth completely out of order and unlike anything he’d just spent time practicing.

Your dad still looks at him, confused. Justin sighs, "I love your daughter more than anything in the world. She’s the greatest thing in my life and I never thought I’d have the opportunity to be with someone so special. Now that I’ve gotten to be with her I don’t ever want to let her go and...it's really important for me to ask you before I propose."

In that moment it all begins to click and your dad nods. Here was one of the most calm and collected quarterbacks in the NFL stumbling over his words out of nerves because he wanted to ask for permission before getting engaged. A man who's build could arguably be compared to ancient Greek deities was a mere mortal when it came to you and it took every ounce of your dad's strength not to crack a smile. "You came all this way to ask me if you can marry my daughter. So you could do this in person?" The younger man nods. "Before I answer, can you promise me one thing?"

"Anything." Justin says without hesitation. He didn't care what he had to do, he just knew he was going to do it no matter what it took.

Your dad looks toward the house, watching you and your mom laughing while getting the sides set on the table. He looks back at Justin, eyes brimming with tears. "She is my greatest treasure. Promise me you will treat her like nothing less than that."

"I will sir, you have my word."

Justin holds out a hand and your dad pulls him in for a hug. "Welcome to the family son," patting him on the back. The quarterback swore he heard a crack in the other man’s voice but said nothing.

You watched the exchange from the kitchen, slightly confused because your dad didn't exactly give out free hugs like they were Halloween candy. "What is happening out there?"

Your mom catches her husband's eye at the end of the hug, seeing him point at his ring finger and trying to contain her excitement. "I'm sure it's nothing," she smiles, handing you another plate to set on the table, "Justin probably asked him if he wants to golf tomorrow. You know he's been trying to get more into it and bringing an NFL quarterback in front of all of his friends is definitely going to boost his confidence." The two of you stood in silence for a bit until you seemed satisfied with that answer and the two men were back inside, immediately distracting you from asking any further questions as conversation flowed as the food and wine were consumed. Justin helped your mom wash the dishes that night, deep in some secret conversation filled with sporadic giggles and all you could think about was how lucky you were to find someone that fit in so seamlessly. Little did you know they were planning a surprise that you'd never forget.

Step one? Find the perfect ring.

"Isabella, I need a favor," Justin takes a seat at the counter next to his sister-in-law. "You need to distract y/n for a couple hours so I can go through her phone."

Placing her own phone down, she looks at him like he's grown another head. "Why in the hell would I do that? Why would YOU do that?” The more she talks the more visibly upset she looks and Justin is severely regretting not being more specific.

“It’s—it’s not what you think. I just—”

She holds up a finger to keep him from explaining himself any more. “I just want you to know that I’m never thought you’d be one of those people and it’s really disappointing.”

He sighs, looking around to make sure that you aren’t walking in any time soon. “I heard you guys talking last week. About how you had a bunch of videos in your Tik Tok likes that helped you plan your wedding. Then she mentioned that she’s been saving some rings that she thinks would look good on her and I need to see those. So I can design the best ring.”

The tension in her body is instantly released and her features are filled with relief. She holds a hand over her mouth to hide a happy squeal before taking a moment to compose herself so she doesn’t give anything away when she sees you. “You’re proposing,” she whispers leaning in close so no one else can hear.

He leans in too, a wide grin on his face. “I’m proposing.”

“I’ll keep her busy,” she promises, giving him a fist bump.

A girls only DIY spa night in gave him the perfect outlet to grabbing your phone. As soon as the cucumber slices were on your eyelids and Isabella gave him the sign, your cellphone was in his hand and he got to work. He screenshotted 13 different ring designs, jotting down some notes in his own phone, looking at various ring styles and the cut that would best match the style that you were looking for. Then he jotted down some local jewelers to visit and design the ring in person, going as far as flying your best friend to Oregon for a few days under false pretenses that she had a work trip in the area and decided to stay at the ranch since it was nicer than a hotel.

Approximately four weeks after his initial meeting with the jeweler, Justin held the velvet box in his hands and admired everyone’s hard work. He’d had a hand in designing every crevice of the ring that looked much smaller in between his fingers as he examined the diamond. Fresh nerves were beginning to set in as the moment became more and more tangible and real. Once he found a secure spot to hide the ring, he moved forward with the next part of his master plan.

Step two? Come up with proposal ideas.

The beautiful thing about the offseason was that you still had to work remotely, so you’d be in your office in one corner of the house and after his morning workout he had all the free time in the world. The bad thing about that was that he had all this free time to sit and think about how he was going to set up an unforgettable proposal. Luckily, some of his receivers had come down for a Nike promo event and to throw so he had people to bounce ideas off of.

“What about this? I take her to Sofi and propose in the middle of the stadium with just the two of us. We have the video board showing monumental moments of our relationship and as she’s watching I just get down on a knee.”

Ladd takes a sip of water, making eye contact with Derius, who says nothing. Justin continues pacing, taking the collective silence as a sign to suggest something else.

“Don’t everyone jump up at once,” he lets out a nervous laugh, wracking his brain. “Maybe I could drive us to Napa Valley with dinner and some music?” That suggestion earned more interaction, some guys nodded, recalling their own proposals and having him take some pointers from their experiences. There was a time where he couldn’t log onto Instagram without seeing one of his teammates getting engaged and the only thing that made him more nervous than proposing was the media circus that would result from the news getting out. Yes, he wanted it to be special and intimate but the thought of the social media team getting their hands on it and invading your privacy was a little scary. Somehow he had to push that thought out of his mind and tackle one problem at a time.

“Private beach proposal in Hawaii?”

Simi stands up at the suggestion, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Sounds beautiful in theory, but aren’t you scared of having the ring so close to the water?”

“Yeah what if you’re so nervous that you drop the box and it’s washed away by the tide,” Ladd notes. “The less distracting things around you the better. Helps you focus on just her.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem, he’s obsessed,” Patrick says, walking by just to chastise his brother. Justin flips him off without uttering a word, an unwavering focus on the task at hand.

Nothing seemed right, some ideas were too flashy, too cheesy. He wanted to show you how much you meant to him, how you’d changed his perspective on life and balancing work and your relationship. That it was possible to do both because the right person brings things out of you that you didn’t even know where there. How do you encompass all of those feelings into one perfect location?

“I’m not gonna lie,” Simi says, voice full of sincerity. “You gotta let the perfect time come to you, you’ll know when the time is right. Trust me.”

Justin had no other choice at this point. He spent the next few weeks holding onto the ring, desperately looking for the right time. Spending all this time stressing and planning and plotting had really taken him away from you. There was an unspoken distance between the two of you and it had become increasingly upsetting. Even when you were in the same room it felt like he was miles away, stuck in his own head, shutting you out completely. You were starting to think that he was looking for a way out and couldn’t decide on a way to let you down easy. The thought of him tip toeing around a breakup made you nauseous.

“Why haven’t you done it yet? You can’t keep putting this off forever,” you heard Mitch say one morning after you came home earlier than expected from an in-person work meeting. Usually you wouldn’t eavesdrop, but Justin’s behavior hadn’t exactly given you a vote of confidence in the state of your relationship. You couldn’t even really remember the last time you went on a date without him looking like he was seconds away from getting sick.

Justin on the other hand had spent every dinner date thinking about whether or not this was the moment. Walking around with the ring in his pocket everywhere he went just in case, deathly afraid of you finding it on accident. That thought alone, of him walking in the house to you holding that ring box not only made him want to cry a little at the ruined surprise but also make him feel like throwing up. And he was tired of hearing everyone and their mom ask him when he was going to pull the trigger and propose.

Especially when he felt like it was happening every single day.

“I’m not putting it off! I just—this is harder than I thought. It’s not just something to check off the to-do list. I gotta do it right or I’m not doing it at all.”

He felt so bad about dumping you that he was putting it off…so he could do it the right way? What even is the right way to end a relationship? You didn’t want to stick around to find out, making your way back outside to sit in your car and think about your next move.

“Justin is planning on dumping me.” You sighed into the phone, calling your best friend.

“What? Where did you get that from?”

You spent the next 20 minutes explaining to her all the signs. His weird behavior, always on his phone but will never let you see what he’s doing or who he’s talking to. You feel like he’s hiding something but he makes sure to only give you minor details saying he’s planning a trip with the guys or talking to his agent about taking on different endorsements. It all just seems too fishy. Why is he torturing you like this by stringing you along? Should you just break up with him first?

“You have to act normal like you don’t suspect anything,” you hear at the other end of the line. Her voice is calm and reassuring which is nice because the last thing you needed to hear was that she didn’t believe you. “If he’s breaking up with you then let him explain him himself. Justin has never been someone to do things without a purpose and you know he’d never do anything knowing that it would hurt you.”

She had a point. “Fine. You’re right, I’ll hear him out and figure it out after I gather all the information. Thank you for talking me off the ledge.”

“You’re welcome.” As soon as you hung up the phone, your friend texted Justin that he should start acting a bit more casual because you were freaking out.

The next evening, he surprised you with a bonfire movie night.

“What’s all this?”

Justin pats the spot on the outdoor couch next to him, welcoming you to take a seat. “An apology? I’m sorry I’ve been off lately. There’s been a lot on my mind and I got so lost in my head that I’ve been neglecting you but that stops today. It had nothing to do with how I feel about you at all, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Care to share with the class what was bothering you for so long?”

You cuddle into his side, a sense of comfort immediately taking over the constant state of unease that previously surrounded you. Looking up at him, he places a gentle kiss on your lips, so soft it leaves you wanting more. “It doesn’t matter now, all that I care about,” he sneaks another kiss, “is being right here with you.”

“Well in that case,” you whisper, “we should make s’mores.”

Justin laughs, kissing you on the cheek and rising to his feet, helping you up before heading into the kitchen. The tray on the counter was loaded with various snack items, Reese’s cups, pretzels and strawberries along with normal s’more ingredients. As you made your way back to the bonfire and began to dig in, a thought popped into your mind while enjoying the stillness.

“We can’t do things like this in LA. You can’t beat the scenery out there and the background noise of the traffic isn’t exactly the most romantic.”

He looks up at the sky full of stars, remembering exactly why he bought land out here in the first place. “I’ve always thought about raising our future kids here. Los Angeles is where I work but this is home, they can grow up and be normal kids here. Play outside, go fishing, experience a childhood that has lasting memories. Not sitting in traffic for hours and never seeing a real tree.”

“Our kids?”

“Yeah,” he says without hesitation. “I think about Coach getting our son his first pair of khakis.”

You laugh, picturing it in your head, “and he’d probably get our daughter a custom pair of cleats to wear pregame.”

“Exactly,” he throws his head back to laugh at the image of mini versions of you and him being spoiled by his head coach. He grabs another strawberry, dipping it in the melted chocolate and feeding it to you. “How many kids do you want?”

“Let’s say it at the same time.”

He counts down from five, saying “three” at the same time you do.

Looking at each other in shock, you burst into laughter at the fact that you have identical answers despite the fact that you’d never openly spoken about it. You each knew the other wanted children but just didn’t know exactly how many. Justin felt like his heart might burst with an uncomfortable and overwhelming amount of happiness. If it wasn’t clear then, it is now.

There, in that moment, nothing seemed more perfect. He looked down at your hands, spotting the manicure you’d gotten last week before attending a wedding. Simi’s words came flooding back, you’ll know when the time is right.

And that time was right now.

“I’m gonna head inside and grab another water, do you want anything?”

“I think I’m okay. Thank you though,” you barely acknowledged the exchange, wrapped up in finding the perfect movie to watch as you scrolled through all the streaming services. Today, the most simply normal day was about to be extraordinary and his feet couldn’t carry him inside fast enough to grab the ring.

His heart was beating in his ears walking back outside. He clears his throat to get your attention and the look on his face makes you stand. “What happened?”

“I spent so long trying to create the perfect moment. But I just realized that every moment with you is perfect.”

Your voice catches in your throat and you’re forced to speak in a hushed tone. “What are you doing?”

He takes a deep breath, holding the box firmly in his hand. “I love you. You’re the one I want to build a home with, create a family with, grow old with and everything in between that this life has to offer. I’m sorry it took me so long, that I spent so much time trying to capture some picturesque scene that we’ll remember forever. You and I, right here is memorable. Being with you is all I’ve ever need, all I’ll ever need. For the rest of my life.” He opens the box and you audibly gasp, everything in your body tingling and buzzing with excitement. Everything made sense now, his nerves, the secrecy…everything. He was trying to make all of your dreams come true.

Holding your hand in one and the box in the other, he gets down on one knee. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you respond immediately, sounding out of breath while wiping a tear from your eye. “A thousand times yes, of course I’ll marry you!” Sliding the ring that fits exactly like it was tailored to your finger, he stands up and wraps his arms around you, a small tear escaping him.

Justin kisses you, a passionate deep kiss, relieved that everything had gone even better than he’d imagined, pulling you in so close that you can feel his steady heartbeat. His movements were long and slow, a slight grin against your lips as you give into belonging to each other. Lost in paradise he leaned his forehead against yours, both of your eyes still closed in awe that this actually just happened.

“Here’s to a lifetime of perfect moments and sometimes the best plan is no plan. I love you Justin, this is amazing I couldn’t ask for anything more incredible.” You pulled away, opening your eyes to look at your hand. “And this ring? You’re crazy.”

“I am crazy. Crazy about you,” he kisses you on the forehead, running his hand across your fingers. “I love you so much, fiancée.”

#justin herbert #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert fanfic

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dixons-sunshine · 20 hours ago

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I’m sorry I’m being so annoying but I check your blog everyday to see if you posted the spicy/panic fic, do you think you will? Or have you already and I’m blind??

Sorry I’m just looking forward to it.

I hope you’re having a great Xmas angel

Not To Blame | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Talks of bondage and panic attacks.

A/N: I’m so sorry for the wait, anon! I completely forgot to post it. Now this only references what happened because I had a hard time writing the actual spicy part that lead up to everything, but I hope this is still somewhat okay!

It all happened so fast.

One moment, you’re straddling Daryl’s lap, tongue-deep in his mouth, grinding your hips against his like your life depended on it. The next moment, you could clearly sense your partner’s distress, his breathing turning shallow and sounding choked up, his body tensing and his chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm. Although you could have easily mistaken it as pleasure, you knew the archer, and you knew that he was in the midst of a panic attack.

Everything frisky ended the moment you had realized that. You had clambered off of him, and untied the ropes binding him to the headboard of the bed—the bindings being the sole reason that the love of your life had trouble breathing and he had tears in his eyes.

You sighed as you walked from the kitchen and back to the bedroom, a glass of water in your hand. You felt terrible about what happened. It had been your suggestion to try bondage in the first place. Although Daryl had seemed rather intrigued by the idea, you should have known better. Daryl had so many bad memories linked with being tied up. You should have known that something like this would happen.

Stepping into your shared bedroom and closing the door behind you, you sent a small, tentative smile towards Daryl. The man in question was sitting up in the bed, his eyes still a little blood shot from the tears he had shed earlier when you had helped calm him down. When he saw you, he offered up a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I have your water,” you began softly, slowly making your way over to him. You handed him the glass of the cool liquid and sat down next to him on the bed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and rubbing soothing circles on his flesh with your thumb. “Do you need anything else?”

Daryl took a sip from the glass, before pursing his lips and shaking his head. “Nah,” he replied, his voice shaky and a tad bit gruffer than normal. “M’alright.”

You frowned slightly. “You sure?” There was a few beats of silence after the crossbow-wielding archer nodded, before you spoke up again. “I’m so sorry, Dar.”

It was Daryl’s turn to frown. “Why’re you sorry? You didn’t do nothin’.”

You shook your head in denial. “I’m sorry for placing you in that awful position. I should have known better.” Daryl opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “Don’t try to downplay what happened and say that it was nothing to spare my feelings. I’m not looking for pity. I just want you to know that I’m sorry about what happened, okay? And I don’t want you to try and make me feel better. Let me take care of you for a change, okay?”

A genuine smile spread across Daryl’s face this time. He nodded and placed the glass down on the nightstand. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, placing his large hand on your thigh. “But I dun’ want’cha to blame yourself, alright? I know what I was gettin’ myself into when you suggested we try bondage. S’not your fault. S’all trial and error, and now we know s’not somethin’ m’into.”

“I guess so, but I definitely would have preferred never trying it in the first place than having you go through that,” you told him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Me too.” A good minute of silence passed, before you lifted your head and stood up, much to Daryl’s chagrin. “What’re ya doin’?” he inquired, his ocean-coloured eyes following your figure as you stalked towards the bathroom.

He soon got his answer when he heard the shower start running. A few seconds later, you walked out of the bathroom and towards him, took his hands in yours, tugged him up from the bed and lead him into the already steam filled room.

“Let me take care of you. You said I could. Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed,” you reminded him, gently beginning to fiddle with the buttons on his sleeveless shirt. “And no further funny business tonight.”

Daryl smiled, and allowed you to help him out of his shirt, his heart swelling with love for you. “Yes, ma’am.”

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just-sg · 1 day ago

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And if "just ignore them and write it anyway" doesn't overcome the anxiety, here's alternate advice:

Remember that these are opinions, and it is perfectly reasonable to consider others' opinions, but if you ask enough people, there WILL be mutually exclusive opinions out there. You CANNOT please everyone, as in it is literally physically not possible, you have slightly higher odds of your molecules lining up exactly the right way to jump through a solid wall. There is not a single decision you can ever make that will avoid the chance of someone not liking it; if enough people see your work, someone WILL have an issue with something, which means you don't have to worry about "what if". Might someone misunderstand? Might someone find it annoying or boring or upsetting? Immutably, yes; if the answer is ever no it just means not enough people have seen it yet. So stop trying to do the impossible!

And once you've got that part, think about what you can control. Look at the opinions you're worried about and actually break them down. Why does dirtysocks574774757 hate that trope?

If it's "overdone", is that actually a problem? Is it popular because many people enjoy it? Is it a little cliche, but something you personally enjoy seeing in other words even knowing that it is? Or if the problem with "overdone" is that it's overshadowing other good options, does anything else appeal to you? Is there a way you can add a unique twist to the trope, keeping what you like while also making it stand out and having all the more fun with it?

If it's "unrealistic", are you trying to be realistic? Is this an escapist fantasy or personal venting where making things better/cooler/gritter/edgier/whatever than real life is part of the point? Is pushing this idea harmful, and if so, what about it is the problem? Is there a way to address that part without avoiding everything even slightly adjacent to the trope with a 40 foot pole?

Remember that no one's opinion is objective law. Even if something is overdone to a point of becoming a stereotype, as long as that stereotype isn't spreading harmful misinformation or actively shitting on people, it doesn't mean you have to avoid anything that even might look close as much as possible at all costs, it means be careful.

Ex: Your gay character can be flamboyant, I promise; the problem isn't camp gays existing, it's when the one (1) gay character or couple in a series is always Like That and little if anything else. So just don't do that part! Remember context, too. It's very different having a whole group who all act a certain way vs a group where only one/some do, ya know? I know this post was more about pet peeves and stuff but I'm saying, if even stuff that can be genuinely bad doesn't have to always be, then you also definitely shouldn't be stressing harmless fun tropes.

Above all else: remember it's better to do something right than to do nothing wrong. There is no amount of effort you could put in to make your work appeal to everyone, but the closer you get to making it tolerable to everyone (still impossible to achieve fully), the less likely you are to appeal to much of anyone. So don't worry yourself to death (or worse, to a point of never making anything) avoiding everything that might be offputting. Instead, when you find yourself worried about a potential issue, examine it, weigh your options, and make a conscious choice about if you want to keep, alter, or scrap it. As long as you're being mindful about your decisions rather than just throwing things in with no regard, you should be FINE.

People relate to messy complex characters, and what one person finds "unrealistic" could just be a thing they don't get, but that makes someone else feel incredibly seen and validated. People like stupid indulgent fantasies! And if you need proof people will actively seek out and enjoy reading the same shit over and over, look no farther than "Coffee Shop AU" or "Only One Bed".

In the end, there's little more powerful than passion from a creator. Write what you like, write what you'd want to read, make the points you want to make. There will always be people who just don't like the things you like, and no amount of trying to water yourself down for them will make them anything more than tolerant. So write for you and the people who do like what you like, and put your whole body into it. Someone will always hate it and someone will always enjoy it, and the more you write something you enjoy, the more likely it is that the people who do like it will really, really like it. Don't hold yourself back!

hey, writers. especially neurodivergent writers with anxiety or OCD.

if you see one of those writing advice posts that is literally just, ‘these tropes suck’, ‘this story idea sucks’, ‘this sucks’, ‘that sucks’, ‘all of this is horrible’.. don’t dwell on it.

these are just random people on the internet, okay? they’re just acting like they know everything and that their personal preferences are universal.

you don’t have to listen to them, write whatever you want, regardless of if dirtysocks574774757 on Tumblr/Pinterest doesn’t like it.

(ahem, if a user by the name of dirtysocks574774757 from Tumblr or Pinterest actually does see this.. sorry 😅 i’m sure you understand)

#this is long #but man one of my best friends has OCD and I've spent years now watching how often he'll send me like #one (1) Twitter Post and start panicking that he's doing something Wrong and needs to make huge changes #>:( So I've gotten used to shaking him like. NO. Listen. You can TAKE THIS UNDER ADVISEMENT without drastically rerouting all of everything #also maybe that person is stupid did you consider that #xD But yeah I know at least for him 'just ignore it' would NOT work so we go the long way.#'You don't have to 100% embrace OR 100% ignore. Just spin it around and weigh your options. And IF you make changes they can be minor.'#'There are basically always more options than All or Nothing.'#writing advice

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wosos-stuff · 2 days ago

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The journal of secrets

Chapter 1: The Hidden Crush

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The air was sharp and cool, carrying the distinct scent of fresh-cut grass and the distant hum of the city just outside Arsenal’s training grounds. Y/N always loved the mornings, when the world felt quiet and the rush of the day had yet to catch up. But today, her mind wasn’t on the training drills, or the upcoming match this weekend. It was on her Alessia Russo.

Across the pitch, Alessia was surrounded by a few teammates, laughing at something one of them had said. Y/N stood a few meters away, trying not to stare, but failing miserably. Alessia looked stunning, her blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun, cheeks flushed from the morning warm-up, and her laughter—it was one of those things that echoed in Y/N’s mind long after she had walked away.

Alessia Russo, Arsenal’s golden girl. The new star, the one everyone adored both on and off the field. For Y/N, it had started as admiration. How could it not? Alessia was talented, passionate, driven—everything Y/N strived to be. But as time went on, admiration had twisted into something deeper, something more dangerous.

“Are you gonna stare all day, or are we actually gonna get some work done?” McCabe’s voice cut through Y/N’s daze, snapping her back to reality.

Y/N blinked, realizing she had been standing there, football in hand, for longer than she should have. She cleared her throat, forcing a laugh as she turned to Katie. “Sorry, just…lost in thought.”

“Lost in Alessia’s orbit, more like,” Katie teased with a smirk, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

Y/N’s face flushed a deep shade of red, but she shook her head quickly, trying to play it off. “What? No, it’s not like that.”

Katie raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Sure, whatever you say. Just try not to trip over your own feet when she’s around, alright?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. Katie had always been able to read her like an open book. But even so, there were things Y/N never admitted aloud—things that were too complicated, too risky to say.

Like how her heart sped up every time Alessia smiled at her, or how she secretly replayed their brief conversations in her head on the way home. No, those thoughts were saved for the one place Y/N felt safe enough to express them—the pages of her journal.

---

Later that evening, Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed, the soft glow of a lamp illuminating the small room she rented near the stadium. The journal was in her lap, its leather cover worn from months of use. She twirled a pen between her fingers, trying to figure out where to start.

The journal had started as a way to cope with the pressures of professional football, a way to get her thoughts out of her head when they became too much. But at some point, it had morphed into something else—something more personal. Now, its pages were filled with thoughts about Alessia. Memories of fleeting glances, stolen smiles, and the way her laugh seemed to make everything else fade away.

Y/N opened the journal, flipping to a fresh page, and stared at the blank space for a moment.

*What do I even say this time?*

She hesitated for a moment, then began to write:

*It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? The way she makes me feel. Like my heart can’t decide if it wants to race or stop altogether when she’s around. I know I should just get over it, but…how? She’s so kind, so talented. Every time she smiles at me, I feel like the world tips on its axis. But it’s pointless, right? She’s way out of my league. Even if I tried, even if I told her—what would she say? What if she laughs? What if she thinks I’m crazy?*

She paused, staring down at the words, feeling the familiar weight of unspoken feelings settle in her chest. This wasn’t new. This was her ritual. Confessing everything to the pages of a journal that could never talk back.

---

The next day started like any other—early morning training, a long list of drills, and the chatter of her teammates echoing across the pitch. But as Y/N rummaged through her gym bag before practice, a wave of panic washed over her.

The journal wasn’t there.

Her heart raced as she frantically searched every pocket, every compartment of the bag, but it was gone. *No, no, no—this can’t be happening.* She tried to stay calm, but her mind was already spiraling. Who had it? Where could she have left it?

Training was a blur. Her usual focus was shattered as her thoughts kept drifting back to the journal. What if someone found it? What if they read it?

---

Y/N barely registered the drills she was supposed to be focusing on. Her mind was a haze of panic, spinning out scenarios of what would happen if someone—especially Alessia—found the journal. The thoughts she had written down weren’t just about admiration; they were raw, real feelings, laid bare in ways she couldn’t imagine anyone else seeing.

“Y/N, you alright?” Jen Beattie’s voice snapped her out of her daze. Y/N had been standing in the middle of the pitch, ball at her feet, while the rest of the team had already moved on to another drill. She blinked, scrambling to compose herself.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Y/N said, forcing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. She kicked the ball aimlessly, praying she didn’t look as rattled as she felt. But she could feel the stares from a few of the other girls. Even Alessia, from across the field, had glanced in her direction.

She tried to shake it off, knowing she needed to keep her head in the game. But the weight of that missing journal sat heavy on her chest, refusing to let go. After what felt like an eternity, training finally came to an end, and Y/N made a beeline for the locker room, hoping to search her bag again. Maybe it had fallen out in her car. Maybe it was somewhere else. Anywhere but in the hands of someone who could read it.

But as she approached her locker, her stomach dropped.

Sitting on the bench was Alessia, casually holding something familiar. Y/N froze in place, her eyes locked on the journal in Alessia’s hands. The world seemed to tilt, and for a split second, Y/N wasn’t sure if she was about to faint or run in the opposite direction.

“Hey, Y/N,” Alessia said, her voice calm and curious, though there was something unreadable in her eyes. She held up the journal with a small, almost playful smile. “I think this is yours.”

---

There were moments in life when time seemed to slow to a crawl, when every heartbeat thudded loud and heavy in your chest. This was one of those moments for Y/N. She tried to find her voice, but nothing came out. Alessia—*Alessia Russo*—was holding the one thing she had never intended for anyone to see.

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind scrambling for an excuse, an explanation, *anything* to make this less of a disaster than it already felt like. But Alessia didn’t seem angry or even particularly shocked. In fact, she looked…amused.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t read everything,” Alessia added quickly, perhaps noticing the growing look of panic on Y/N’s face. “Just a few pages.”

Y/N felt like she was going to throw up. *A few pages?!* That meant Alessia had seen at least *some* of what she had written—her thoughts about Alessia, her fears, her stupid little fantasies that she had kept hidden for so long. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

“I… uh…” Y/N stammered, her throat dry as sandpaper. “I don’t—how did you—?”

“It was on one of the benches after training yesterday,” Alessia explained, leaning back slightly against the locker behind her, still holding the journal with a relaxed grip. “I thought about just giving it back to you straight away, but… curiosity got the better of me.” She raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re a pretty interesting writer, Y/N.”

Y/N could feel the heat rising in her face, her ears burning as a thousand thoughts collided in her mind. This was it. The end of her career, her friendships, her *life* as she knew it. Alessia Russo had read her journal, and now she would probably laugh in her face, tell the rest of the team, and Y/N would have to move to some remote island where no one would ever find her again.

But Alessia didn’t laugh. She didn’t mock. Instead, she tilted her head, studying Y/N with a thoughtful expression.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Alessia said softly, her tone no longer teasing but… curious. Almost gentle.

Y/N’s heart pounded. Her legs felt like they might give out any second, but she forced herself to stand still, to meet Alessia’s gaze. What could she say? There was no denying it now. Alessia had read enough to know. She had seen Y/N’s feelings laid bare in black and white.

“I—” Y/N started, then stopped, feeling like her throat had closed up entirely. “I didn’t mean for anyone to… it’s just, um… a stupid thing I do. Writing stuff down. To, you know, deal with things.”

Alessia nodded, and for a moment, the room was filled with an awkward silence. Y/N could barely breathe. She couldn’t tell if Alessia was uncomfortable or just thinking, but either way, the tension in the air was almost unbearable.

Then, out of nowhere, Alessia smiled. A small, amused smile that caught Y/N completely off guard.

“Actually,” Alessia said, leaning forward a little, “I had an idea.”

Y/N blinked, confused. An idea? This was the part where Alessia was supposed to tell her how weird and creepy she was, not… smile and suggest ideas.

Alessia continued, her voice calm and casual. “There’s been a lot of gossip around the team lately, right? About people dating, who’s seeing who, all that crap. It’s getting kind of annoying, to be honest.”

Y/N nodded, unsure of where this was going. Sure, there had been plenty of rumors floating around—locker room gossip was as constant as the drills they ran every day—but how did this relate to her journal?

“So,” Alessia said, her eyes gleaming with mischief, “what if we used this? What if we pretended to date? You know, to get everyone off our backs for a while.”

Y/N stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. “Wait… what?”

Alessia leaned back again, crossing her arms over her chest. “Think about it. We pretend to be together. The team stops asking questions, the media stops poking around, and we get a little peace and quiet. Plus…” she raised the journal with a smirk, “this little secret stays between us.”

Y/N’s mind was spinning. Fake date? Alessia Russo was proposing that they fake a relationship. The very thought made Y/N’s heart do somersaults, but she wasn’t sure if they were good somersaults or ones that would make her throw up.

“But… why?” Y/N asked, still trying to wrap her head around the idea. “Why would you want to pretend to date me?”

Alessia shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Like I said, it’s easier this way. We’ll make it look real, keep people out of our business, and I’ll even make sure no one ever finds out about this journal. Win-win, right?”

Y/N felt like she was in a dream—or maybe a nightmare. This was too surreal. Alessia Russo, the girl she had been secretly in love with for ages, was offering to fake a relationship with her. And not only that, but Alessia was acting like this was the most normal, rational thing in the world.

But it wasn’t normal. It was the exact opposite of normal. It was wild. Unbelievable. *Terrifying*.

And yet, a small, reckless part of Y/N’s mind whispered: *What if?*

What if she said yes? What if she agreed to Alessia’s crazy plan? Sure, it would be fake. But at least for a little while, Y/N would get to be close to Alessia, to pretend that her feelings weren’t one-sided, even if it was all an act.

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat dry. “I… I don’t know.”

Alessia smiled, that playful glint returning to her eyes. “Come on, Y/N. What’s the worst that could happen?”

*Everything*, Y/N thought. *Everything could go wrong.* But when Alessia looked at her like that, it was hard to say no.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Y/N took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

---

The words were barely out of Y/N’s mouth when Alessia grinned, looking genuinely pleased with the answer. “Great! We’ll start tomorrow. We’ll make it look real—hang out together, do some dates, post a few pictures. Everyone will buy it.”

Y/N’s stomach was still in knots, but a strange excitement bubbled beneath the nerves. This was happening. She was going to fake date Alessia Russo.

*Fake*, she reminded herself. This was all pretend. Nothing more.

But as Alessia handed her the journal back, their fingers brushing for the briefest second, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if pretending might just be the hardest part of all.

#woso x reader #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #woso #woso fanfics

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backseatsoldier · 2 days ago

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"Broken", Not Stupid - 1

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x OC

CW: Omegaverse; "selling"/"adopting" omegas; alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley; omega!OC

Author's Note: I have... been encouraged to write this (dammit, @lostintransist lol). It was an idea I had a while ago. We'll see where it goes, I guess?

The last person Simon expected to see that night was Henry, an accquaintance from basic training. Johnny had been raving about this omega he'd met recently when Simon heard someone call his name. So he turned to face the voice.

"I thought that was you, Riley!" Henry exclaimed with a bright smile. He was always overly cheery.

"Hey, Henry. How have-"

Henry's eyes narrowed at Simon and he tilted his head ever so slightly.

"You're still not settled down, mate? Why are you in a bar? You should be at one of the Salvation facilities!" He didn't seem to be judging Simon. In fact, he seemed more concerned than anything.

"Aye. Name's Johnny," Soap poked in the conversation finally, offering Henry his hand and a welcoming smile. Henry responded in kind. "Aren't most of the Salvation facilities... no good?"

"Most of the newer ones were hurriedly staffed - lots of omegas in need, you know - so the living conditions are... less than satisfactory. But Salvation's working hard to fix it," Henry explains with a knowing frown.

"What the hell is 'Salvation'?" Simon chimes in, completely lost.

Johnny and Henry exchange a look before Johnny sighs and looks at Simon directly.

"They... take in omegas who, for one reason or another, are deemed 'unfit'," Johnny explains hesitantly. "Everybody's a bit... on edge about them, though. They 'take in' omegas by searching for the 'unfit' ones and purchase them. Omegas aren't property. Or at least they haven't been in too long for something like this to be even remotely legal."

"It's... complicated. They house and care for all of these omegas but it just doesn't settle right with a lot of people. Which is fair, especially with the recent rushed staffing and problems that came about from such," Henry adds. "There's a facility in the next town over, actually. One of the original ones that hasn't had issues. You two should drop by there sometime. See what you think and, maybe, find a mate for doing so."

Simon and Johnny exchange a look that implies a silent conversation. Henry seems to take the hint and says his goodbyes. The rest of the night continues without talk of Salvation, it's strange ways, or it's facilities. That doesn't mean Simon can keep his mind off of any of it, though.

Maybe an 'unfit' omega is what he needs? As strange as it may sound.

Masterlist

#backseat soldier #rhi_writing_adventures #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #original character #ghost x oc #simon riley x oc #omegaverse

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madameevil · 2 days ago

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These are just my own thoughts, I'm not here to try and prove anything is right one way or another.

"Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are our villains. And they are your typical evil for evil’s sake villains."

Those two didn't come across that way to me. Elgar'nan started out as a general of the army against the Titans. He didn't relinquish the power he obtained after that because he believed the Elven people needed guidance ("stern leadership") and that his strength could protect them from future threats. Mythal agreed in the sense that they needed leader to unite their people.

Elves being, as far as we're aware, the first spirits to take on a mortal form were not aware of the potential corruption that would occur. We know this occurs when they can't fulfill their initial purpose. Through this Elgar'nan grows to be a tyrant when he's unable to abide by his initial purpose. What was his initial purpose? Hard to say. Emmrich calls him a "Manifestation of Tyranny." We'd probably have to look into exactly how the spirit corrupted to then deduce what he was prior.

Ghilan'nain was the only (?) mortal elf brought into the pantheon. She used to create living wonders. After she was brought into the pantheon, we know that she grew to be more twisted. She sought to push the boundaries of creation further. Since she was mortal first, I don't think her corruption to "villainy" is like Elgar'nan's. Given the dialogue she has with Solas in one of the memories, I interpreted her need to keep pushing as "I have to continue to prove myself." / "Prove to the others that I actually belong here." because she doesn't have the distinction of being a first-born and immortal.

Now we take these character flaws and we add a dash of blight to them...

The blight comes from the compressed anger and suffering of the titans. It's anger and corruption seeps into the individual and slowly consumes them. So the blight would them amplify any anger those two had pushing them to the extremes. With the codex entries we get featuring letters, Solas's memories with the wolf statues, or his memories in the crossroads that we play through...or even the way Elgar'nan talks to. I wouldn't put them as "evil for evil's sake" villains. I think their character flaws or corruption they faced was simply amplified by the blight. The blight they thought they could control. Which leads me to "A God's Arrogance"

"For some reason. This guy can move a satellite!? And he just let Rook walk away in previous encounters… twice. Ok. Sure."

I think the concept of "A God's Arrogance" explains this fine. They're two individuals who still view themselves as Gods. If they viewed the far more advanced ancient elves as well beneath them then modern elves or any other beings are even lower. If ancient elves were cattle, modern creatures are ants. Why would a God ever think that an ant could be a problem? Why would a God ever think that an army of ants be a problem? From a more "evil" God perspective: If that's not enough then why kill something when you can try to break them down? Why kill them when you can relish in their squirming? And better yet, this one is a pawn to the only being you actually still view as a threat. So why not make them watch you break down their piece slowly?

Now if Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain were actually Gods then perhaps they would have just stepped on the ant and moved on. But they're not. They're pretending to be Gods. They're acting how they think Gods would act. It's honestly a difficult thing to write. Writing Gods in general is hard because we're physically incapable of putting ourselves in the shoes of a being with so much power. Writing someone who is acting like how they think Gods should act and then adding in thousands of years of isolated torture and corruption, is another thing.

"they want to unleash the full force of the Blight onto the world. Because they are evil. And they were thwarted last time they tried to Blight the entire world. Why do they think Blighting the world is a good idea? What’s the point of ruling a world if everyone is dead?"

This also relates to "A God's Arrogance." When we play through Solas's memories in the Crossroads we hear Ghilan'nain claim she can control the blight. That she is somehow stronger and can hone it into something more than just a mindless raging plague. Elgar'nan then continuously reassures her of this fact if you eavesdrop on their conversations at the golden tree thing at the start of the Crossroads. Ghilan'nain believes she can take the blight and control it to not end up with everything/everyone dead. She believes this is the next step in evolution and it's a gift to receive it from her. This isn't "Because they are evil" , to me that is a gross oversimplification of their motivations.

Whether those motivations strike you as compelling is your choice.

"This reveal will surely throw the Andrastian religion into chaos! This puts the very existence of the Maker into question! The Evanuris are a lie; it’s only fair Catholicism—oh, I mean—the Chantry is a lie too. We briefly touch on that in Veilguard… then it is quietly discarded."

The companions do discuss it. The reason they choose not to bring it up is because of how they believe it would impact the elves and there's nothing to gain by throwing the world into further chaos than it already is. The Elves are already discriminated against, then two of their Gods emerge and cause an apocalyptic situation, so why would they then choose to add another target on their back by challenging the chantry? I agreed with the characters here. I don't think it's the right time. I would love to see this lead to a gradual change in future games though!

Whether this reasoning is enough for you, is your choice.

"We never really learn why Solas wants to tear the Veil down, or why he thinks it will help anyone. “The Veil is a wound inflicted upon this world. It must be healed,” he says. And that’s basically all he says about it in Veilguard. [...] His only motivation now seems to be he’s too deep in his sunk-cost fallacy. [...] His role in this tale was over before ours began, and he really is just some relic from a long-past age. He has no role, no purpose in this story. He is here to be thwarted. [...]Solas is never given any nuance or complexity to his actions. Nuance and complexity have actively been taken away. Both him and the Veil are looking like they are the worst things to be in a story: pointless. Why introduce the Veil if it’s just going to remain unchanged? Why introduce a character like Solas, bother humanizing him (for lack of a better term), giving us his backstory, setting him up as a cunning antagonist, only to make him look stupid, then put him on a shelf until the last ten minutes of your game?"

I think there are far more eloquent people who can talk about Solas's role in the story and his motivations. His actions seem heavily based in both The Cycle of Abuse and Survivors Guilt. These are powerful motivators. These motivators also parallel the individual companion stories.

Lucanis has suffered abuse at the hands of his grandmother and family members. Lucanis also has survivors guilt when he believes his grandmother was killed. He tries to avoid it but you hear about it in his mind prison.

Davrin has suffered from institutional abuse. He's convinced his sole purpose in life is to die now. He brings it up constantly. He also suffers from survivors guilt after Weisshaupt. You can talk to him about it when he presents to you the wood carvings of his friends who didn't survive. He even shouts out, something along the lines of "why am I still here when they're not?"

Neve has survivors guilt about what happened to Rana's partner. She talks to you about how everyone around her dies or gets hurt.

Emmrich has survivors guilt about what happened to his parents that leads into his fear of dying. If you choose not to save Manfred, he's heard crying in his room and struggling to accept it.

Bellara has survivors guilt about what happened to her brother. She blames herself for it. She hopes that she can do enough that she'll be able to forgive herself.

I think Taash's story relates to Solas's predicament in a different way. I think their theme of struggling between two worlds whether that be culturally or with their gender can relate to Solas's struggle between the ancient culture he was born into and the modern elven culture he finds himself in. Since I'm not part of the nonbinary community or diaspora community, I can't talk in detail about this from their perspective and won't try to.

With all this in mind, I do think these comparisons help place Solas as a "foil character." Solas's reaction however is DRASTICALLY different from our protagonists (plural for companions included) but also offers a contrast to Rook (our protagonist) who inherits Varric's vision.

With all that though, I don't think his purpose in the narrative is "nothing." Whether making him a foil character was what he should have been or what was desired is up to you.

As for why he wants to tear down the Veil, a lot of it is hidden in subtext. "People are always dying. It's what they do." And it's his fault they are. Solas often always speaks in riddles and literally veils the true meaning. Every time he talks to Rook there's a hidden purpose and meaning behind it. If you analyze it, which others much better at literary analysis than me have, you may find more motivation, complexity, and reasoning. I think picking apart his words adds a good amount of nuance to it as well.

"It really felt like this was the setup they were going for. Solas causes the death of Mythal, and this is his catalyst for creating the Veil, which ushers in a world without magic."

Is that not what happened? Her death was a catalyst to spur his rebellion against the Evanuris. It's her death and service that binds him and why she's required to get the good ending. She has to release him.

"I was expecting a few remaining Titans to wake and join the fight. But we don’t get any of that."

Would have been cool, but since all that seems left of them is the blighted part and that's thoroughly severed, I don't think it would have worked. Without some possession that helps sooth the anger, it's so maddened that it's not quite coherent. I didn't really ever expect them to wake up. I did expect to learn more about them from the Descent DLC in DAI and I did get to learn a lot more! So I was satisfied with that.

"The Veil felt like Chekov’s gun to me. Chekov’s Veil, if you will. It’s been here from the beginning of our tale, the spectre hanging over our protagonists’ heads for multiple games."

To me the Veil was more like a key aspect of World Building. You need to know about it to understand the religions, how magic works, how spirits and possession work, etc. So it makes sense to introduce it as a concept in each game. It takes a beating in the games and we see the effects of that. So in this game, it ending with it being fully repaired. It did have a role, could it have been bigger? Sure.

"It just ends, and everything is the same. I got to the end of Veilguard… and everything was more or less the same as it was at the start of Origins."

I don't know how it is the same. Elves have to reconcile the differences between what they believed and what they now know. They've uncovered ancient artifacts and have a grasp on the Eluvians now which they certainly didn't have in Origins. The blight is forever changed with the Veil fully repaired. There's no more small leak. The Calling is implied to be gone due to this. It's implied that the blight can be cured or slowly die away instead of lingering. Which brings me to this...

"The Veil isn’t even a permanent solution. It wasn’t to begin with. It was some duct tape wrapped around a broken pipe, and we’ve just slapped an extra piece of tape on it. It’s still leaking. It is still unnatural, and will fall eventually one way or another.

It feels like keeping the Veil up just pushed a big problem onto Thedas’ future generations. We’ll keep slapping bandaids on it until it all falls apart. Someone else can deal with the fallout, but we’ll be dead by then, so who cares."

It is fully repaired now though. It's reinforced. It's not us slapping duct tape on it like we did with elven relics in DAI. The ending tells us this. Now this doesn't stop people from doing what the magisters did and poking holes in it in the future, but we also don't know how Solas (and possibly Inky) presence will affect it. Will it help prevent holes? Will it help ease the blight even more? There's a lot of room to expand on these, but it'll take time for the world to change. So I expect any consequences in future games - not immediate.

"For some reason, this game seemed terrified of letting us think about anything for more than two seconds. It shied away from complexity or nuance at every turn."

I actually think the game had a lot of complexity and nuance just perhaps, not in the way many went in expecting. There was complexity in the companions and their stories, how it intertwined with the overarching narrative and Solas's. How grief and regret shape a person. How all the propaganda the South had been feeding us for years wasn't always accurate. It's different from "moral complexity" of previous games but if I'm being honest, I never found the previous games to be morally complex. There was a clear cut "good" option and a clear cut "bad" option. Literally some choices people gush about boils down to "Is slavery bad? Yes or No?" ... it's bad guys. It's not complex. It's bad. "Is forced imprisonment from childhood bad? Yes or No?.... yes. Imprisoning children in a tower with police brutality is bad. It's not complex. It's always been pretty black or white. The complexity typically came from the factions we interacted with. The Wardens portrayed as glorious heroes have a darker side to them. We saw it in Origins. We see it in DAI. We see it in DAV with the Griffons. This organization isn't all white. It's more of a grey.

Meanwhile the opposite occurs with the crows. We get horrendous portrayals of them in DAO, DAII, and a little bit in DAI and yet we interact with a different family and we see, no this organization isn't actually all black. It's more of a grey.

All of that is still present and emphasized in DAV. I think the game just decided not to shove it in your face like it did in other games. It's more subtle but to me it's still there.

"The game is called The Veilguard—ironically, that word is never uttered in the game—but we are given no real motive for guarding the Veil. We’re unquestionably the hero. The villains are uncomplicatedly evil. Save the world… never wonder what you are doing or why."

I honestly don't know why they would ever utter the phrase "Veilguard" specifically and why that should be a bad thing that they don't. It would just feel like an "Avengers Assemble" moment or forced in. Further more and relating to this piece:

"I wanted the game to make me question if the Veil staying up or coming down was the right choice. I needed to be given a real counter argument. Convince me the alternative would actually be better or worse, because as I mentioned…"

I don't think the game was ever going to be that. You are picked by Varric. Varric who watched what the Kirkwall companions did. Who watched what happened to the Inquisition. Varric who was going to go try and stop this friend from making a mistake when he couldn't in the past. The person Varric brought on the team wasn't going to be evil. They weren't going to disagree with his vision. They weren't going to go against him. They were going to be his second in command and by into what he told them. He is after all a famous storyteller. Viewing it as Rook is an extension of Varric and tasked with carrying on Varric's role...it limits the characters available. I don't necessarily mind this, but I think it's a big reason why people go so far as to say "it's not an RPG" which is honestly just disgusting. It is an RPG. You can't call Monster Hunter or FF that have little to no story or choice impact RPGs but not this.

In addition to that and to talk about this:

"They are surprisingly patient while Rook fixes all their companions’ problems…"

Which is talking about our two escaped gods again, it's just QoL for the Game. It's a game first and foremost. Would you prefer everything be on a timer? Maybe you would, but many wouldn't. Many gamers actively hate timed quests. So this isn't a narrative reason so much as a gameplay reason. They want to give you time to do the quests. The same thing happens in all the other games. "Ah god we have to get to the top of the tower! ASAP!" - yea yea hold on I have to loot all 5 of these bodies and all these crates over here and do one last glance over. OR "Oh dear the empress is going to be assassinated we have to move quickly!" - Uh huh yea I get that but let me spend about 10 more hours in the Hinterlands trying to kill this fucking dragon. Not ever decision in the game is a narrative one. This one isn't.

How does this relate to the choice of the Veil coming down or staying up? This was never going to be a choice. The impact it would have would be too drastically different that there'd be no way to reconcile it in future games. You'd have to make two completely different games for that choice. So they were going to choose one or the other. In the end they chose this. Would the opposite have been cool? Maybe! Or it could have been the end of the world like that one proposed ending in the Artbook where everything is obliterated. I mean people are already pissed that "their world state is destroyed in the south" imagine the outcry if the whole world was wiped with the veil coming down. There just doesn't seem a good way to make this work for everyone or keep it a choice. Unfortunately.

Now that that's all done. These are just my thoughts and how I interpreted it. Part of the beauty of art and games by extension is that they should be open to multiple interpretations. There should be discussions surrounding the narrative that aren't just masked bigotry. And with that, Ima log off Tumblr since this too me way to long...and no I'm not going to reread it to make sure it's coherent. Ima just send it.

Castles in the Fade, or What Was the Point of the Veil Anyway

Something that will now haunt me until the end of time is why was the concept of the Veil ever introduced into this series.

We’ve been hearing about it since the very first game. There’s a codex entry about tears in the Veil in Origins. Tamlen mentions a thin spot in the Veil if you play a Dalish elf. Sandal has a prophecy in Dragon Age 2: “One day the magic will come back—all of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.” Admittedly, this is just one line said by a character who often says odd things, but it hinted to the fact they were planning to do something with the Veil from the very beginning. The state of the Veil is repeatedly brought up. It all had to mean something! Or so I thought.

When I saw “The Dread Wolf Rises” quest in Veilguard, I said, “Oh, here we go!” The Veil is coming down, magic is coming back, and it’s going to set up such an interesting story for the next game.

Alas, no.

I hadn’t really enjoyed my time playing Veilguard up until this point. It felt like the game was ducking and dodging every bit of world building and lore that could possibly bring nuance or complexity to the story. Every returning character or faction was a cardboard cutout of themself. They shoved Solas is a time-out box and gave him nothing to do. They refused to let him have any impact or influence on the story when he had been set up to be our main antagonist back in Trespasser. This game used to be called Dreadwolf! And while we learn about his past… we never talk to him about it. In the present, he’s in stasis.

Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are our villains. And they are your typical evil for evil’s sake villains. They are mad, bad, and only as dangerous as the narrative will allow as to not give Rook and co too much trouble. They are surprisingly patient while Rook fixes all their companions’ problems… until Elgar’nan moves the moon to cause an eclipse. A vital component in making his own lyrium dagger. For some reason. This guy can move a satellite!? And he just let Rook walk away in previous encounters… twice. Ok. Sure.

The Evil Duo need their own dagger ostensibly to tear down the Veil, because they want to unleash the full force of the Blight onto the world. Because they are evil. And they were thwarted last time they tried to Blight the entire world. Why do they think Blighting the world is a good idea? What’s the point of ruling a world if everyone is dead? I guess they haven’t thought that through, because of the madness and the evilness.

Ok, I thought. Perhaps the gods will be the one to tear down the Veil. Or maybe we’ll have a choice to let Solas do it his way before they can, which will be less chaotic and less full of Blight. Because the Veil has to be coming down one way or another? Why introduce the concept of the Veil, especially a Veil that has been thinning and failing since the series began, if it’s just going to… stay.

There is a principle in storytelling called Chekov’s gun. If something is mentioned in a story, it must have a purpose. If you keeping mentioning that gun hanging on the wall over the fireplace, it’s because at some point in the story, someone is going to take it down and use it. The Veil felt like Chekov’s gun to me. Chekov’s Veil, if you will. It’s been here from the beginning of our tale, the spectre hanging over our protagonists’ heads for multiple games.

The Veil has been a character unto itself. It was the central focus of the third game, and its dissolution was set up to be the core conflict of the fourth game. We learn everything we thought we knew about the Veil was a lie. It was not created by the Maker to separate the Fade from this world because of jealous spirits, it was created by a guy named Solas to trap the elven gods and the Blight from destroying the world. Also, the elven gods were never gods, and they are also evil.

This reveal will surely throw the Andrastian religion into chaos! This puts the very existence of the Maker into question! The Evanuris are a lie; it’s only fair Catholicism—oh, I mean—the Chantry is a lie too. We briefly touch on that in Veilguard… then it is quietly discarded. Religious crisis averted.

But I digress.

When the title of the fourth game was changed from Dreadwolf to Veilguard, I started to see the writing on the wall. Still, I held out hope the Veil would have some greater purpose in the story. That its introduction as a concept was for a reason. That something in this world would change.

Instead, from the get-go, the question of the Veil is no question at all. We only get Solas and Varric making oblique or catastrophizing statements about it. Solas says little beyond he has a plan. If I ever wanted to hear a villain monologue about their plan, it was now! Varric, on the other hand, decries Solas’s plan. He warns that should the Veil fall, it will destroy the world and drown it in demons. And that’s that.

We never really learn why Solas wants to tear the Veil down, or why he thinks it will help anyone. “The Veil is a wound inflicted upon this world. It must be healed,” he says. And that’s basically all he says about it in Veilguard. In Inquisition and Trespasser, we learn it took the immortality from the elves. It cut most of magic off from the world. Spirits are trapped and are being corrupted into demons, and most of what we know about spirits and demons is wrong. There are ancient elves possibly asleep? That part is left vague, but ancient elves are still about. We meet some in Mythal’s temple. There seems to have been some merit in bringing it down, because elves were flocking to Solas’s cause at the end of Trespasser. He had agents working for him already. What do they know that we don’t know?

Apparently nothing, because by the time Veilguard rolls around, there are no mention of agents. He is working alone. His only motivation now seems to be he’s too deep in his sunk-cost fallacy. The Veil is unnatural, so it must be removed—consequences be damned. We are never given any reason to think Solas has a leg to stand on in his pursuit of tearing down the Veil. We never hear any kind of counter argument from anyone, not even Solas, as to why the Veil should come down. We are only told it will destroy the world. It will drown the world in demons. This is all Solas’s fault.

There is no nuance. No complexity. No moral quandary to mull over. The game gives us vague warnings with no explanation as to what exactly is so world-annihilating about the Veil coming down. We must take Varric’s word at face value. We’re the heroes; Solas is the villain. Stop him.

It makes me wonder why Solas was ever a companion in Inquisition, let alone a romance option. Solas was presented to us as a complicated character in Inquisition. We had the potential throughout the game to make him see the value of this world, to help him realize he was wrong about it. “We aren’t even people to you,” the Inquisitor says in Trespasser. Solas replies, “Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong...again.” He began the third game viewing the world as tranquil, seeing the people in it as nothing more than figments in a nightmare, just as we saw our companions in the In Hushed Whispers quest. He ends the game having made friends, having recognized he was mistaken. He might have even fallen in love. (Or he may still seen no merit in this world if the Inquisitor antagonized him the entirety of their time together.) But something makes him continue with his plan to tear down the Veil, despite recognizing this world is real. He must know something we don’t. Something we’ll learn about in the next game.

We’ve been hearing about the Veil for three games now. We’ve set up our complex antivillain for the next installment, and he’s going to tear the Veil down. We swear to stop him or save him. But it has to be more complex than that. It can’t be so straightforward. Uncomplicated. Simple. Boring. Right? Right?

Nope. He really is just the villain, mustache-twirling and all. He apparently had no greater motivation, no as of yet unrevealed knowledge that would put this whole Veil thing into a new context. It was really as simple as the Veil falling will destroy the world, so Solas must be stopped. There is no new information that is revealed which makes us question what we are doing. Solas is never given any nuance or complexity to his actions. Nuance and complexity have actively been taken away. Both him and the Veil are looking like they are the worst things to be in a story: pointless. Why introduce the Veil if it’s just going to remain unchanged? Why introduce a character like Solas, bother humanizing him (for lack of a better term), giving us his backstory, setting him up as a cunning antagonist, only to make him look stupid, then put him on a shelf until the last ten minutes of your game?

Solas was the trickster archetype of this tale. He was our version of Loki from Norse mythology. What is the role of the trickster archetype? To challenge the status quo. To bring about events of extreme change, like say, the tearing down of a Veil that holds back all of magic. Loki is a huge contributing factor in Ragnarök. Through his manipulation, he causes the death of the beloved god, Baldr. This ushers in a long winter, which signifies the beginning of the end. Loki is imprisoned for this crime. When the final battle between gods and giants begins, the sun and moon are swallowed, plunging the earth into darkness. The earth shakes and Loki is freed to fight on the side of the giants. The world burns in raw chaos, falls beneath the sea, and is reborn. The world is remade, and a new realm of the gods and a new, better earth is formed.

It really felt like this was the setup they were going for. Solas causes the death of Mythal, and this is his catalyst for creating the Veil, which ushers in a world without magic. This could be seen as equivalent to the long winter. Solas falls asleep, trapped in dreams. He wakes and sets in motion bringing about the apocalypse. It’s not a perfect one to one, but it’s there if you squint. We have a war against the gods in Veilguard. I was expecting a few remaining Titans to wake and join the fight. But we don’t get any of that. There is a final battle, but it does not end in the end of the world. Or a better world. It just ends, and everything is the same.

It seems our trickster god caused his apocalypse thousands of years before our story started, when he created the Veil. His role in this tale was over before ours began, and he really is just some relic from a long-past age. He has no role, no purpose in this story. He is here to be thwarted. He is no Loki at all.

If you can’t tell, I wanted the Veil to come down. Did I think the Veil coming down would be painless? Have no negative consequences? No. Of course not. But keeping it up has negative consequences too. And it made for an interesting story. Or at least it could have. But we never explore that. The game presents no counter argument to having the Veil stay up, which, again, begs the question: what was the point of introducing the concept of the Veil at all?

Did I think the Veil coming down was actually the best solution to help Thedas become a better place? I don’t know, and I never will, because the game never argues for it one way or another. It just tells you to want it in place and to stop asking questions. In real life, a catastrophic event is not the best way to solve any of the world’s problems. But this is the realm of fiction. We have gods and monsters, magic and myth. We have introduced the status quo of Thedas, recognized it needs to change, then our trickster god appears ready to fulfill his role in the narrative.

Instead, it all comes to nothing.

I got to the end of Veilguard… and everything was more or less the same as it was at the start of Origins. Veilguard actually tries its hardest to pretend any previously mentioned problems don’t exist, so of course the Veil coming down has no merit. There are no problems to solve in this world, apparently. Solas is just stuck in the past and can’t get with the times. Silly Solas.

The Veil isn’t even a permanent solution. It wasn’t to begin with. It was some duct tape wrapped around a broken pipe, and we’ve just slapped an extra piece of tape on it. It’s still leaking. It is still unnatural, and will fall eventually one way or another. Large amounts of bloodshed weaken it, so I guess Thedas better achieve world peace real quick to avoid any battles. There were seven super-powered mages holding it together… now there is just one. Ironically, the Veil was going to fall after two more Blights anyway. The Wardens were doing Solas’s work for him! It would also have released the full force of the Blight at that time… which Solas was trying to avoid, I presume.

Primarily, I wanted the Veil to come down from a storytelling perspective. The Veil was an interesting concept and I wanted the story to do something interesting with it. Conflict is what makes stories stories and the Veil coming down could create so much compelling and complex conflict. And the Fade is weird, and I like weird. Stories are also about change, and I wanted to see Thedas change. Yet, Veilguard is over, and barely anything has changed. Instead of magic coming back being a conflict for the next game, they went with Fantasy Illuminati. Oh.

The Veil turned out to be a nothing-burger, and no problems in this world are even close to being solved. Slavery is still rampant in Tevinter. The elven people are still oppressed everywhere. Mages have no more rights in the South than they did in Origins. Spirits are still trapped and being corrupted. The Calling still exists, though might be different somehow now? They don’t really get into that. The Chantry’s validity is still not allowed to be questioned. The Blight still exists in some form, but again it’s vague. Oh, and we learn the dwarves have been gravely wronged, and the Titans are still tranquil. At least if you redeem Solas and a romanced Lavellan joins him, they can work together on healing the Blight and helping the Titans. Oh, good. One problem is being acknowledged and some action will be taken. Offscreen. Hurray? Solas doesn’t have a really great track record of fixing problems, so Lavellan is definitely going to need to be there to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up.

For some reason, this game seemed terrified of letting us think about anything for more than two seconds. It shied away from complexity or nuance at every turn. The game is called The Veilguard—ironically, that word is never uttered in the game—but we are given no real motive for guarding the Veil. We’re unquestionably the hero. The villains are uncomplicatedly evil. Save the world… never wonder what you are doing or why.

I wanted the game to make me question if the Veil staying up or coming down was the right choice. I needed to be given a real counter argument. Convince me the alternative would actually be better or worse, because as I mentioned… things suck quite a bit in Thedas already for a lot of people right now. Let the Veil’s fate be a difficult choice to make. If the conflict cannot be what to do about the Veil, it should be am I doing the right thing about the Veil. If the heart of your game is so thin on motive, everything else falls apart around it.

I hoped they were setting up a complex, Thedas-sized existential conflict for this game in Trespasser, but no. I wanted something to happen, but nothing did.

I want to feel challenged and changed by a story, not left feeling empty. I’m tired of superficial entertainment. I want to sink my teeth into a narrative that doesn’t paint the world in broad strokes of black and white, good and evil, heroes and villains.

Ultimately, I think my issue is why even introduce a concept like The Veil if you’re not going to do anything interesting with it. Or anything at all. What I thought was Chekov’s Veil turned out to just be a MacGuffin. And that’s disappointing.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #datv spoilers

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tenpintsof-sundrop · 2 days ago

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My Top 10 Fics Of 2024

So, I have decided that I am gonna do the same thing that I did last year because I had so much fucking fun with this last time and it's a great way to look back and reflect on all the hard work I have done this year. And I am counting these down not based on statistics - not how many likes these posts have or how 'popular' they are, but based on how much I like them, and I get to really reflect on how writing these fics made me feel. And that is truly the most important part of fanfiction - how much fun I am having. So I am really happy and excited to reflect on all the awesome stuff I have written this year.

And I think a really great sign is that I had an incredibly difficult time with this year's ranking. Because I wrote so many amazing fics that I had so much fun with. Even if I had a really (not so fun) incident where I came very close to quitting fanfiction altogether, I had a lot of fun, and I wrote a lot of amazing things that I am so fucking proud of. And I'm only including fics in this ranking that I have posted (which is why I strategically waited until after certain fics were posted to write and make this ranking) - and not even including ones I have written and not yet posted, which are also fics I absolutely fucking love. So even if this year may not have been great for my mental health or my physical health, this year was a year where I felt great and comfortable and happy as an artist.

Anyway, here's the ranking!!

This year I posted 20 different fics consisting of over 250,000 words - and that is not including the fics I have not edited and the unfinished WIPs I have in my drafts.

Also keep in mind, if you randomly see this post in tags and you don't follow me, this is my main blog and not my fanfiction blog. My fanfiction blog is @sundrop-writes - you can follow me there to check out my fics and follow me for all my exciting fanfiction adventures in 2025.

Honorable Mentions:

Meddle About - Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader (6,300 words). I was slightly conflicted about if I should put this on the list or not, because currently, this is (in terms of statistics) the most popular fic on my blog right now, and usually when a fic is super popular, I am less inclined to like it. But this list is supposed to be strictly about how I feel about my fics and the experience I had while writing them. And I did really enjoy the experience of writing this fic - it was really fun to write something absolutely kinky and filthy and to write a fic that was so truly stuck in my head. I had a lot of fun with it.

The Restricted Section - Dom!Hermione Granger x Sub!Fem!Reader x (Secret Voyeur) Harry Potter (4,400 words). This is one of my absolute favourite fics that I have written this year, and it just didn't make the top ten because other fics were more my favourite. I loved writing this because it was such a fun PWP and it was one of those instances where I had the idea and then the fic was posted like a day later. It's a lot of fun.

Tongue Twister - Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!GN!Reader (2,000 words). This is one that I actually forgot that I wrote this year - it feels like so long ago lmao. But I really loved it when I wrote it, I love it now. I will always love Gar so much, and I love writing slutty fics about him.

Eager Little Puppy - Sub!Isaac Lahey x Dom!GN!Reader (2,700 words). This is by far one of my favourite things I have written this year - Isaac is one of my new favourite characters, and I have absolutely loved writing about him (and I look forward to writing more about him in the future). This is just a representation of how much I love him.

One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson - Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader (8,300 words). This is another one that I forgot was from this year because it feels like so long ago. I really fucking love the concept and I really, really want to continue it further in 2025 (feel free to send me messages if you are excited about it and want to see more, because I would like to set aside some specific time to work on it). Anyway - I really love the start of it and I really love what I have planned for this fic in the future.

Now, onto The Top Ten:

10. Precious Time Alone (aka The Knot Fic) - Gar Logan x Fem!Reader (11,800 words)

Even with the ability to see the future, you never would have guessed that your life would lead you to falling in love with the perfect man - someone sweet, caring, funny, cute. Someone with the passion and fire to protect the ones that he loves no matter what. A precious guy with green hair who had the ability to transform into a tiger at will. And when you finally made love to him for the first time, you never could have guessed how that unique ability affected his sex life. You weren’t exactly complaining, but you wished you had seen this coming. At the end of the day, it was just another thing about him to love. Or - Neither you nor Gar knew that he has the ability to knot, and you both find out for the first time when you have sex together. Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut/PWP. Set during Season 2, Episode 9.

It's such an interesting coincidence that both this year and last year, the number ten slot contains a Gar fic that is a re-make/re-post. I have a lot of fics that are only on AO3 and not on Tumblr, and I highly recommend that you check out my AO3 for that reason, but if I am transferring a fic from AO3 to Tumblr, I love to go through and do some edits on it and see how I can improve it before I post it again.

I absolutely loved this fic when I first posted it, and I love it even more with the edits - including the new scene that I added. It is such a fun idea that could be considered Crack Fic (so often, I write Crack Fic concepts but I treat them seriously) - the idea that Gar has a Knot because he is 'an animal' (or because he has animal DNA). It's such a funny idea, but it was fun and hot to write porn about it.

I love this fic, and if it is your thing and you would enjoy reading it, I hope that you enjoy it too.

9. The Way You Miss Me - Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader (18,500 words)

Fred broke up with you. He made it clear that he was going to have a new life when he opened his shop, and he didn’t need you to be a part of it. You being stuck on him was just another joke in a long line of pranks that he pulled. And life kept on laughing at you when your fear of heights was triggered by a potentially life ending mission the Order put together that had you dangling hundreds of feet over London, held up only by Fred’s strength and determination. So what does it mean when the two of you land, and he’s the only thing that can stop your shaking panic? What does it mean when he’s looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes, holding you tight like a lover would? Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Deathly Hallows.

This fic is one of the reasons that the ranking was so difficult. This one got moved around a lot because I had so much fun writing it and working on it. I am also super proud of this fic because originally, the idea was going to be part of a much longer fic, and I am so glad that I was able to pull off the emotions and the tone that I wanted in a much shorter word count that took me a lot less time. It makes me incredibly proud of myself - that I don't feel like I have to spend months and months on an idea in order to truly pull it off.

I fucking love this fic and I am so happy with how it turned out.

8. Why Am I The One? - Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader (15,200 words)

Isaac loves you. He loves you more than anything else in the world - which is exactly why he has stayed away from you for so long. But when Derek kicks him out onto the street in the pouring rain with absolutely no warning and no reasoning as to why, Isaac has nowhere else to go. He could claim that he sought you out because you’re close by, because he knows that you won’t turn him away in his time of need - but deep down, it’s because he misses you. And staying away from you for so long is the hardest, stupidest thing he has ever done. Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Smut and Emotional Angst. Set during Season 3, Episode 4.

Again, this is one that made the ranking very hard. I enjoyed the process of writing this so fucking much. I was immediately inspired when I saw the episode, and as soon as I saw it, I started working on this fic - the imagery of Isaac so slutty in his white shirt sparks the temptation to write smut, but I love the emotional depth of him being a literal kicked puppy (after being kicked out by Derek) and being emotionally vulnerable and needing some place to go and someone to turn to. It is literally a perfect recipe for the kind of smut I write - super hot sex with emotional depth because one of the characters is feeling vulnerable. It's perfect.

This fic is exactly what I wanted it to be when I set out to write it, and I especially loved exploring Isaac's grief for Erica (which is by far not explored enough in the show) and I might do a continuation of it in the future, I'm not sure. Either way, I think it's fantastic, and it definitely deserves a spot on this list.

7. She Keeps Me Up - Dom!MILF!Jennifer Jareau x Sub!Fem!Reader (3,100 words)

JJ is protective of you. When you offer yourself up as ‘bait’ to lure in an UnSub who is killing women of your type, she protests endlessly about it - but ultimately she can’t stop you. She can, however, possessively lay her claim on you when you get back from the ordeal with nothing more than a tiny scratch. Dom!Jennifer Jareau x Sub!Fem!Reader. Established Dom/Sub Relationship. Smut/PWP.

Like I said, this list is all about reflecting, and I was considering wiping all Criminal Minds fics off this list because of the experience that I had - but that wouldn't be fair to my past self or fair to my art. Especially because this is one of my favourite fics I have ever written and whenever I listen to the song that I titled it for, I still have incredibly fond memories of writing this fic.

I think that MILF!JJ is my favourite version of JJ, even though - ironically - I haven't seen a lot of the later seasons. But way too many people obsess over Professor Reid and Grey Haired Prentiss (who I also love, don't get me wrong) - but I think there is not enough love for MILF!JJ. Not by far. I want to be her controversially younger girlfriend.

I actually have something in my drafts that is MILF!JJ centric, and if I finished it, it would be the only thing that could get me to stray back into the Criminal Minds fandom. I am so down bad for JJ, it's not even funny. (So - if you wanna see more of her, feel free to come in my inbox and let me know.)

6. Blood In The Water - Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader (11,700 words)

Being Stiles’s best friend, you are incredibly worried about him when you figure out that he is quite literally not himself - and that the thing currently occupying his body could be destroying it in the process. When you approach him to show this concern, Void takes a particular interest in you. He’s not capable of love, or even fondness, but he likes you. And he likes the way your fear spikes when you talk about Stiles. So he makes you a deal - he’ll agree to take care of this fleshy, mortal host, in exchange for something more precious, more rare, and more delicious than the meal you have brought for Stiles. He wants your pain. He wants your tears. Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends. Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt No Comfort. Set during Season 3 (with flashbacks to Season 1, Episode 11).

Another one that made the ranking so hard. This fic was so much fun to write, because as I said in the A/N for it - I fucking love writing villains. I love writing characters who are absolutely unambiguously evil. I do think it's a big of a shame that the recent cultural shift is to write villains as morally ambiguous or to take characters who are evil (or morally grey shifting more towards 'bad' in the canon) and soften them up so much in fanfiction to make it seem like they did nothing wrong.

A lot of people write Void as one of those "he is bad but he won't hurt me because he loves me uwu" characters and I really don't like that - because I want to write him as a character who is absolutely fucking incapable of love. He does not know love, he doesn't know what it is, and he has absolutely no softness or fondness for any person.

I really want to write a sequel to this fic - I have one drafted out that I think would be so fucking good - and I think I want to make it one of my goals for 2025 to complete and post the sequel. Anyway, just this fic as it is, I fucking love it, and I had such a fantastic time writing it.

5. Downhill - Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (20,100 words)

Draco knows his place in the world. He is a Malfoy, he is Pureblood. He is supposed to marry, carry on the Pureblood line. He is supposed to do everything that his parents would - including killing, if it’s what his Dark Lord wishes. Draco Malfoy is not supposed to hesitate. He is not supposed to feel fear. He is not supposed to have room in his heart for fondness, or even love. Not even when it comes to his bartered and bought fellow Pureblood fiancee. Love is nothing but a weakness. And Malfoys are not weak. Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader. Arranged Marriage/Hesitant Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Half-Blood Prince.

This is one of the fics that caused me to strategically wait to make and post this whole list lmao. And I am glad that I actually got this fic posted when I wanted to, and I'm glad that I waited. I have had this fic brewing in my drafts for a long time, and I have had the general idea for it in my head for a lot longer. I've actually had the idea in my head for longer than the original fic existed (the fic that this is a prequel to) and when I figured out that I could utilise my idea here, I was so excited.

I love writing about the real consequences of Draco being a Death Eater and I fucking love writing the Arranged Marriage trope, and this was all my favourite things to write about rolled up into one. And I also loved writing the inclusion of Harry having a very shallow one-sided crush on the reader when she is too busy actually falling in love with Draco to notice. This was incredibly fun for me to write and I absolutely love how it turned out - so it is by far one of my favourite fics I have written this year.

4. Figure It Out - A Criminal Minds Casefic (18,000 words)

Since you joined the BAU, you have been keeping a terrible secret from the team. When the team takes a case in your hometown - your festering secret comes to be known with a vengeance. Fem!Reader x Gen!BAU Team (Platonic). General Casefic, modelled after a Criminal Minds episode. Angst, Mystery, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Criminal Minds Season 3.

I feel like this list would be incomplete if I did not include the fic I obsessed over as my first fic of the year. This fic really did a lot for me as an artist - for so long I have been wanting to write something with a similar concept to the music video for Figure It Out by Royal Blood (something where the story essentially goes in reverse and more details are revealed along the way, constantly changing who you believe is the villain vs who is the victim). The first time I saw that music video, it changed me and I have been so radically inspired by it ever since.

And because this idea has been sitting in my head for literal years, I am so fucking proud that I managed to do it justice. And I do think that Criminal Minds is the perfect backdrop to do this kind of idea with, and I think that this is actually a kind of radical artistic episode that they might actually do.

I would also love to use this format for other fandoms (I think it would work so well for The Walking Dead especially, and you guys know that I want to apply everything I do to Titans) - so I am so glad that I wrote this fic and gained confidence in writing something with an usual format and that I just got to have fun with it.

3. When Doves Cry - Jason Todd x Gar Logan (11,100 words)

At Dick’s insistence, Jason comes back to Wayne Manor to help the Titans end Crane’s deadly plan. Jason doesn’t want redemption or forgiveness - he’s done believing that he’s worthy of those. Once Crane is back at Arkham where he belongs, Jason plans to disappear, never to be heard from again. But Gar - someone who never stopped loving Jason and never stopped believing in his goodness - has other plans. Jason Todd x Gar Logan. Friends to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Smut and Emotional Angst. Set during Season 3, Episode 13.

This fic is absolutely so fucking special to me. This is actually one of my only fics that has a dedication, even though most of my romance based fics should be dedicated to @nctzenkane - because he is the love of my life and he inspires most of my romance based fics in one way or another.

I wrote this fic at a time when I was really struggling as an artist. If you have been following me all year, then you will likely know about an incident where I spent months writing a longer fic, and that fic garnered some complaints and hate comments, and when I spoke up with my distaste for those comments - I was basically told to shut up, and I was told that fanfic readers have a right to be rude and treat fic authors like shit the second that we post our work to the 'public'.

And it really demotivated me and the whole incident really made me thoroughly consider quitting writing altogether, especially considering the fact that my chronic illness is getting worse each year and every single time I successfully post a fic, more and more work has gone into that fic behind the scenes (past my illness) in order to make that fic 'visible to the public'.

All of this to say that I was feeling down, disappointed and lost, and I asked Jaycen what to do - what I should write to truly make myself feel confident and good in my art again. I asked him to request something because I needed some inspiration and some artistic direction. And he requested this fic - because he usually only enjoys romances between canon character pairings (and he loves JayGar because I majorly fed him the juice on that) and he knows that Titans is my strong suit.

The fic is also incredibly special to me because the song is also incredibly special - even though I fucking love 80s music, I didn't really listen to Prince until Jaycen encouraged me to, and when I listened to this song for the first time, it really wormed its way in as one of my all time favourite songs. And it suits these characters and their dynamic so well in addition to being such a beautifully personal song to me.

So yeah - this fic is gonna go down in history as one of my top five favourite fics of all time, not just from this year. And it definitely made the ranking a lot harder.

2. Heaven's Gate - Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader (24,200 words)

Hope. Not the fragile, delicate thing that everyone mistakes it to be. Hope is stubborn, and grows inside of you long before you ever realize its purpose there. Hope can’t be crushed by a thousand pound tank or torn apart as easily as concrete walls can. Hope is balanced on the backs of songbirds, it whistles quietly in the wind, and it brings you right where you need to be (even if you don’t know it). Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader. Strangers to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Fluff. Set during Seasons 1-5.

This is another fic that is so fucking special to me, and that's why it's so close to the top of the ranking. I have had this idea in mind for years probably - I fucking love the concept of any fic that involves reunions when it comes to The Walking Dead (and I could write 10,000 more fics based on this concept) because every single moment of reunion in the show just fucking gets me. Even though I don't really like Rick and Lori's relationship (and I love Lori, don't mistake me as a Lori hater - never), the moment where Rick gets out of the cube van and reunites with Carl and Lori for the first time in the first season - it gives me goosebumps every single time without fail.

So I simply aim to recreate that feeling with my fics.

Also - the bird symbolism. When I lived at my old place, I had a bird feeder right outside my window, and I used to do a lot of bird watching. And I became familiar with certain bird species and the rarity of certain types of birds, and there is just something hopeful that ignites within you when you see a particularly rare bird - and it is a myth I have heard that cardinals represent good luck (likely because of their rarity) when you see them.

And I love how the whole fic evolved to represent hope, which I think is something we all need more of in our lives. During this year of existential dread and sadness, it felt really good to write something that was purely about happiness and hope.

1. The Jaws of Life - Jason Todd x GN!Reader (19,900 words)

You and Jason don’t really hate each other - at least not anymore. Your feelings for each other are more than complicated, and before you have time to figure it all out, you have to part ways. Jason goes back to Gotham at Bruce’s behest, and you’re off to visit a long lost relative that you didn’t even know cared about you. Unfortunately, while you’re apart, the Joker makes things even more complicated with a phone call and a gun. And your world comes crashing down before you can even put names to all the stars in your sky. Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Friends With Benefits to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Smut, Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 3.

Here is the big number one! I am giving this one the top spot even though it's incomplete (and I am kind of biased because in my head, I am including how amazing stuff from the second part is) - and maybe it's just an excuse to include such an amazing fic in two different 'Top 10 Fics of The Year' posts lmao. Because when I post the second part in January, technically it will count for next year too.

But anyway - I love this fic so fucking much. This fic has been so long in the making, and I love every single aspect of it - the emotions, the metaphors, the length. This is one of those fics that is perfect to me because it came out exactly how I wanted it to be in my head. I am so utterly proud of this fic, and I am so glad that people are getting to read it now, even if it is just the first part.

Anyway - that's all for this year, and I am sooo looking forward to seeing what I can come up with next year.

#sundrop speaks #fanfiction #gar logan x reader #dc titans fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #harry potter fanfiction #isaac lahey x reader #teen wolf fanfiction #jennifer jareau x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #stiles stilinski x reader #void!stiles x reader #draco malfoy x reader #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #jason todd x reader

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bloatedandalone04 · 15 hours ago

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Under the Tree

➪the one where you and tyler celebrate christmas together, and he has a surprise waiting for you underneath the tree.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, mentions of smut, nothing too wild (yes, i write fluff too).

Word Count: 2.8k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | Merry Christmas !

The department store was crowded, but what store wasn’t during this time of year? Christmas was next month, after all.

You were currently in the ornament aisle of the store, practically shoulder to shoulder with Tyler and an elderly woman that was standing to the left side of you. While you felt a little bad for dragging your boyfriend here after he just finished a rather grueling chase yesterday and likely still needed to rest, Tyler was still a pretty festive guy. And the chances of there being another tornado for the next few months was unlikely, so he would have lots of time to rest.

And he didn’t even look annoyed or irritated at the moment, even though you had been in this aisle for about fifteen minutes now. His arm was slung around your waist as your eyes flickered all over the various boxes of Christmas tree ornaments, an active debate going on in your head as you thought about what theme you wanted to go for this year.

This would be yours and Tyler’s first Christmas together, alone that is. You’d been together for almost three years, and the first year you had spent the holiday with your own families, and the second year with all of them together, but this year it was just you and him. Tyler’s family is going on a vacation this year, so you and he spent last weekend with them, and your mom was taking care of your dad since he just had surgery on his leg, so it wasn’t really a good year for them. Though you were planning on stopping by a few days after Christmas.

With that being said, this was the first year it was just you and Tyler, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t so excited to spend the holiday with him.

“No rush, babe, but is there a reason we’ve been standin’ here for over ten minutes?” he asked after watching you glance between two different boxes over and over again. “Again, no rush at all, but…someone’s grandma is looking a little pissed off.”

When you looked to your left and saw the elderly woman glaring at you, your hand came up to cover your mouth as you tried to hold in a laugh. “She has a valid reason,” you said, leaning more into your boyfriend’s side to give her a little more room. “This time of year is…stressful for everyone.”

Tyler hummed in agreement, wrapping his arm tighter around you as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “True…but I don’t think pickin’ out what to put on the tree is very stressful,” he teases, “Or at least it’s not supposed to be.”

You laughed quietly, watching as the woman grabbed a box of all red ornaments before briskly leaving the aisle. “I don’t know which ones I want,” you whined, pulling him back to where you were before. “I don’t know if we should do red and green, or white and gold, or white, gold and red.”

Tyler laughed under his breath as he looked at the multitude of different colored ornaments on the shelves. “Well, we have a pretty big tree, why don’t we do a mix of all of them? And maybe we can add some random ones here and there. We still have the ornament my mom got us last year to put on too, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” you smiled, looking back at him. His mom had gotten you a cute ornament that said both yours and Tyler’s names on the brims of a Santa hat that two penguins were wearing, and you were kind of obsessed with it. “That’s actually a really cute idea. You’re better at this than I thought you’d be.”

Tyler smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist again as he pulled you back against his side. “I love Christmas, you know that,”

You nodded, wrapping both your arms around his middle as you leaned your head against his chest. “I know you do,” you hummed, “But most guys don’t.”

“Baby, I think we’ve long since discovered that I’m not like most guys,” he grunted, reaching for both the big boxes of the red and green ornaments, leaving you to grab the smaller box that held both white and gold ones.

When he gestured for you to finally leave the aisle, you rolled your eyes. “Must you always show off?” you huffed, grabbing the smaller box before following after him.

“In front of you?” he grinned, “Always.”

“Pick a movie already,” you groaned, worried that the candy cane hot chocolate you had made for both you and Tyler would be stone cold by the time a film was even chosen. The living room was only lit up by the recently put up Christmas tree in the corner, an array of ornaments scattered on its branches, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think it was one of the cutest and prettiest things you had ever seen.

Tyler turned around from where he was hunched over the fake fireplace. The remote had been lost a long time ago, so whenever either of you wanted it on, you had to get onto your knees and hit the button manually.

The look he gave you had you cackling as you draped the big throw blanket your mom got you a few years ago across your body. “I did,” he said, “Two of them, actually. You said no to both.”

You laughed and sipped on your drink. “The Grinch is so overrated, and Home Alone is so overplayed,” you mumbled, placing your whole palm around your mug to warm your hand. “We watch it, like, five times every December.”

Tyler, once he turned the fireplace on, stood up and towered over you, his hands on his hips. His red and green Christmas pyjama pants he was wearing made your smile grow, even though you were wearing matching ones, complete with Max from The Grinch scattered all over the fabric. “Because it’s a classic,” he defended his choice of movie as he moved towards the couch. “And it’s good. Your choice was awful, but you don’t hear me complainin’, do you?”

His words weren’t harsh at all but rather teasing as he grabbed his own mug before sitting next to you and leaning over to kiss your cheek when you draped the blanket over him as well. “Love Actually is good,” you muttered, bringing the rim of your mug up to your mouth again.

Tyler laughed, reaching for the remote with his free hand. “Babe, it’s barely a Christmas movie,”

“Okay, you have not seen it enough times to be able to say that,” you said and Tyler grunted.

“Alright, fine, it doesn’t feel like a Christmas movie,” he corrected himself as he flipped through the Holiday section on Netflix. “How about…this one?”

You looked up and saw that he was hovering over Four Christmases, and your lips curved into a smile. “Okay,” you answered, cuddling close to him while being careful not to spill your drink.

When the opening scene started, Tyler turned his head and nuzzled his nose against your temple. “We should do that,” he murmured, draping his arm around your shoulder as he pulled you closer to his side.

“What?” you laughed, your eyes still on the TV but your focus was almost entirely on your boyfriend.

“You know…roleplay,” he said, and your face heated up as you looked over at him, seeing the mischievous look in his eyes you were very used to by now.

“Roleplay?” you echoed, tilting your head back to get a better look at his handsome face. “You wanna call me a bitch, hmm? And tell me you hate my earrings?”

Tyler’s face heated up now and he quickly shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant,” he rushed out, but you just laughed and draped your legs over his under the blanket. “I just meant, like…you know, pretendin’ we don’t know each other, only for me to kiss you in front of a room full of people like it’s the only thing I want to do for the rest of my life.”

You bit your lip and pressed your cheek against his shoulder, running the tip of your nose along his jawline. “You already do that,” you murmured, “Kiss me in a room full of people. What would be different?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before pressing his own against it. “We could make it like our first date all over again. I could act all cool and confident, when really I was already fallin’ head over heels for you, and you could pretend you aren’t completely obsessed with me already and just dyin’ to hear more of my storm chasin’ stories.”

You scoffed, pulling back to lightly slap his shoulder. “You’re so full of it,” you shook your head before moving closer to him again. “It wasn’t your stories that drew me in, it was you. Just you.”

Tyler smiled down at you before leaning in and pressing a firm kiss to your mouth. “Everythin’ about you drew me in,” he mumbled against your lips. “Your eyes, your laugh, your smile…and those tight jeans you were wearing definitely did somethin’ to me.”

You rolled your eyes and placed your hand flat against his face, pushing him away from you. “Once again, you’re full of it,” you muttered, quickly pulling your hand away from him when his tongue poked out and licked your palm. “And disgusting.”

Tyler laughed, and the sound made your mouth curve upwards in a smile as you turned your gaze back to the movie. “You love it,”

Christmas Day always seemed to creep up on you ever since you became an adult, unlike how it seemed to take forever to arrive when you were a kid.

With that being said, it was just as exciting as it was when you were younger. Back then, you, like any other kid, loved receiving gifts, but now that you are older, you love giving them out.

Okay, maybe you go a bit overboard every year, but your mom could always use another mug, and your dad could always upgrade his housecoat. And Tyler could always stock up on that piney, sexy cologne you fucking love.

When you woke up on the 25th of December, alone and cold in your bed, you groaned and grabbed Tyler’s Tor-nae-do hoodie and shrugged it over your shoulders, the grey fabric matching well with your Grinch pajamas.

You left the room and walked down the stairs, hearing the faint sound of Christmas music playing from the living room. When you entered the room, you found Tyler sitting on the couch, his laptop placed on his thighs and his legs kicked up on the coffee table as he scrolled through the comments on an old upload.

“Working on Christmas?” you asked with a tired grin, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorway.

Tyler looked over at you, his handsome grin forming on his lips as he closed his laptop, instantly giving you his full attention like he always did. “Someone has to,” he teased, setting it aside as he leaned back on the couch. “Kinda hard to make money when you’re in bed and sleepin’ all morning.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pushing off the wall when he reached his hand out to you. “It’s only ten thirty,” you mumbled, crawling onto his lap as you snuggled up on his chest. “And yeah, yeah…you’re the breadwinner out of the two of us. I know that.”

Tyler hummed as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms wrapping around your body as he held you against him. “That’s not true and you know it,” he murmured, dipping his head down to nuzzle his face against your neck. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

You smiled, closing your eyes as you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. “Merry Christmas, Ty,” you said back, sitting up on his lap and placing your hands on his chest. “What do you say? I make breakfast, we sit for a bit, then open presents? Maybe after we can have a nap too…you kept me up late last night.”

Tyler smirked, shrugging a bit as he ran his hands up your back, under his hoodie. “What can I say? I know how to celebrate a holiday,” he grinned, then sat up a bit. “How ‘bout presents first? I got you somethin’ I’ve been dying to see you open for weeks now.”

One of your brows raised as you let out a soft hum. “Weeks, huh?” you echoed, a small smile forming on your lips. “Alright, we’ll do presents first.”

“Okay,” he immediately agreed, his hands giving your hips a gentle squeeze. “Open mine first. It’s right there, under the tree.” he nodded towards the corner of the living room, the Christmas tree lit up in a soft, warm tone, and under it was a small, surprisingly well wrapped box.

“Okay,” you said, getting off his lap to retrieve the box, and one of the gifts you got him. You walked back over to him and sat down on the couch beside him, rather than on top of him again, and placed your gift for him on his lap. “Remember, we said we weren’t going to go overboard since it’s just us this year, right? You remember that?”

Tyler grinned and draped his arm around your shoulders. “Babe, just open it,” he laughed, his other hand wrapping around one of your thighs to pull you closer to him.

You laughed quietly too, draping your legs over his lap. As your fingers began ripping at the wrapping paper, you noticed that Tyler began to shift beside you, but he only gestured for you to keep going when you looked over at him. “Are you okay?” you asked, glancing up at him again as you pulled off the rest of the paper. “You’re acting kinda weird or anxious or-”

You cut yourself off when you opened a small box, and you quickly looked down to see what was in it. When your eyes caught sight of the princess cut ring that was sitting on the velvet cushion inside the box, your throat closed up as a soft gasp left your mouth.

“Ty,” you murmured, your eyes burning a bit with unshed tears as you tore your gaze off the stunning ring to look over at him.

Tyler looked less nervous now as his fingers ran up and down your thigh, his eyes wide but his face relaxed. “Baby,” he said back, reaching up to caress your jaw in his hand. “I love you. More than anythin’ in the world. You know that.”

You nodded quickly, your hands shaking a bit as you looked between him and the ring in the box. “Yeah,” you whispered, gripping his arm tightly with the hand that wasn’t holding the box.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Tyler rasped, taking the ring out of the box as he held it between his fingers. “I want to marry you, babe. I want everythin’ with you, forever.”

Your cheeks heated up in a blush, your eyes filling with tears as you moved closer to him. “I want that too,”

“Yeah?” Tyler grinned, taking your left hand in his as he held the ring up to you. “Will you marry me, baby?”

You were nodding before he even finished asking the question, your arms thrown around his shoulders as you pressed a deep kiss to his mouth. “Tyler, oh my God,” you mumbled against his mouth, your voice muffled by his lips. “Yes.”

Tyler laughed against your lips, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he pressed multiple kisses to your mouth. Neither of you knew how long had passed before you finally broke the kiss and pulled back so he could slide the ring onto your finger, and already you were absolutely obsessed with it.

“It’s so beautiful, Ty,” you said quietly as you gazed down at the new addition to your left hand.

“Yeah? I tried findin’ the prettiest one because you’re the prettiest girl,” he smirked, running his hand up and down your spine as you snuggled up against his side. “This one will have to do.”

You scoffed and shook your head, nuzzling your face against the side of his neck. “It’s perfect,” you mumbled, kissing his shoulder. “I love it. I don’t even want you to open my gift now because you’ve given me the best one by far. I feel cheap.”

Tyler laughed, holding you tightly against his side as he looked down at the gift bag you had put on his lap. “Oh yeah, it’s gonna take you at least…I don’t know, four Christmases to catch up to me now,” he said, a proud smile on his face, and he was clearly happy with his stupid joke as he reached for the bag. “Oh, and thanks for the cologne by the way, wifey.”

#grumpys glen grove #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens smut #tyler owens fic #tyler owens twisters #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens x you #twisters #twisters movie #twisters 2024 #twisters fanfic #twisters tyler owen’s #twisters x reader #twisters imagine #glen powell

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tubattutu · 2 days ago

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Held and Handled

summary: pegging your sweet boyfriend for the first time.

pairing: idol!huening kai x fem!reader

warnings: pegging, reader uses a strap on, sub!kai, dom!reader, soobin has a gf, petnames (babe, baby, hun), kai is sensitive and loud asf, as always lmk if i missed some !

a/n: merry christmas eve and happy holidays !!!!! been wanting to write something like this for a whileeeee so enjoy <3

"i swear man, that food was so good." soobin commented, taking a sip of his drink he had left over from the restaurant him and kai had just went to.

kai just chuckled, walking back to the dorm with his best friend. he kinda just zoned out as soobin talked about something he couldn’t recall, until a question caught him from his zoned out state.

“so how’s it going with y/n?” he asked curiously, sipping on his drink once more as he glanced over at kai, both of them still walking towards their dorm building. “mmh.. pretty good, actually.” kai replied, glancing down at the ground to his shoes, his hands in his pant pockets.

“really? nothing interesting?” soobin frowned, chuckling, still looking over at kai.

kais mind was all over the place, thinking and deciding whether or not he should mention what he was thinking… maybe soobin could help, maybe suggest something.

“uhh… well… i just.. i have a problem..” kai sighed, watching his feet move in rhythm with soobins. “problem? what’s up?” soobin asked, sounding a bit concerned.

“well… i guess lately whenever me and y/n do stuff it’s like.. kinda boring..” kai expressed and glanced over at soobin, the wind slightly blowing his hair. “oh? really?” soobin grinned, suddenly getting an idea in his head at the mention.

“you should try pegging.”

“pegging? are you serious?” kais eyebrows raised, surprised at the suggestion. “yeah, pegging. me and my girlfriend tried it a couple times and the first time we did it, it was probably the fastest i ever came.” soobin explained a bit too confidently. kai just made a face at that, but then started to think about it.

“well- what if y/n’s not comfortable with that? and won’t that like.. hurt?” kai questioned, frowning in confusion. “i mean, of course it’ll hurt at first but you’ll probably adjust to it. when you go visit her tonight you should talk to her about it. maybe she’ll be fine with the idea.” soobin nodded towards kai, taking a sip of his drink.

kai hummed in response, thinking about the suggestion.

— ♡

by the time he’d got to your apartment, you were already back from work. you both lied in eachothers arms on the couch, watching tv, when he suddenly remembered what soobin had suggested to him earlier that day. he sighed, unsure if he should even bring the idea up.

“uh- babe? can i talk to you about something?” he asked, stroking your hair back gently and softly, feeling the smooth strands between his fingers. “yeah, of course baby. whats wrong?” your head shifts up to look up at him from his chest, his warm body engulfing yours.

“well.. i was talking to soobin earlier today about how.. i just think lately when we.. y’know, do stuff, it just feels kinda boring and repetitive.. and he suggested something new for me to try,” he explained, a soft blush growing on his now pink cheeks. “… what did he say?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and curiosity.

“he uhh… he suggested.. like.. pegging-?” he said embarrassedly. he swore he felt like his face had became a tomato. he was so incredibly embarrassed.

it was quiet for a moment, none of you speaking for what it felt like minutes but was only seconds, before you spoke up. “pegging?” it was quiet again, only for just a second again. “yeah- pegging… we don’t have to, i was just wondering if you’d like to try it sometime or..”

“yeah, i’m down..” you agreed, nodding subtly as well. you were a bit surprised at the idea though. you didn’t really expect your sweet boyfriend to be into pegging..

“really? when should we do it though?” he asks, shifting just a bit underneath you to get comfy, his fingers running through your hair once more. “whenever you can, i guess..” you suggest, lying your head back on his chest.

“this weekend? after work?” he rubs your back softly, staring down at your pretty face.

“mhm..”

— ♡

it was finally friday. for the rest of the week kai had been thinking about tonight. he was just so excited, but also nervous. how would it feel? would it feel as good as soobin described? he hoped it wouldn’t hurt too bad at first…

he was actually pretty dedicated to it though. he even went out of his way to go to the adult store and buy a strap on so the two of you could just go straight to it.

“babe, i’m home!” you call out, placing your purse onto the island of your kitchen and slipping off your shoes. you’d knew he’d be here by the time you got home. he waited for you in your bedroom, and when you opened the door and looked over at him, he looked up from his phone and smiled at the sight of his pretty girlfriend.

“hey baby..” you smile, climbing into bed next to him and kissing his lips. it seemed like you completely forgot about what you two were gonna do tonight. he hums and kisses you back, rubbing your side before pulling away to speak. “do you still wanna try.. that thing i mentioned a couple days ago?”

his question brought the memory back up into your head. you smile and nod after a moment, kissing his cheek. “are you sure you wanna do this? aren’t you scared i’m gonna like.. accidentally hurt you or something?” you ask worriedly, rubbing his cheek with your thumb softly.

“well, i mean.. yeah, but we can just go slow at first…” kai reassured you, smiling and stroking your pretty hair. “and.. are we even ready? like do you already have the..” you hint, and he already knew what you were talking about. he nodded, reaching down underneath the bed and pulling out the strap on. your cheeks flush, flustered at the sex toy.

“oh.. are- are you sure i’m not like… gonna hurt you with that?” you question, your eyes analyzing it worriedly. he chuckled, handing it to you. “i’ll be fine hun..”

you nod, sighing and taking the strap on, your fingers grazing the fake cock for a moment to feel the material.

and soon you both were already in position. the strap on was already around your hips, meanwhile kai was already prepared underneath you with his cock leaking precum, his legs spread for you. you reached out to rub his thighs, your eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“i don’t wanna hurt you…” you spoke, still worried as hell. “babe, i’ll be fine, i promise… if you hurt me i’ll tell you..” he reassured you once more, softly rubbing your hand that was on his thigh.

his constant reassurance made you feel a bit better. you swallow nervously and adjust the length that was lathered with lube, rubbing a bit of lube on his entrance before finally sliding the fake cock into his hole. his breath hitches, whimpering, his walls clenching and unclenching around the length.

you glance up, seeing the look of slight discomfort on his face and you immediately felt worried again. you stopped moving, “are you okay baby? did i hurt you?”

“m’ fine.. jus’ burns a little… keep going slow..” he softly spoke, reaching out to hold your hand. you hold his back, squeezing it soothingly and slowly sliding in further until you eventually bottomed out. he lets out a whiny moan, squeezing your hand tightly..

once the burning sensations faltered, he untensed and swallowed thickly. “you can move now..” he confirmed. at that, you gently held his hips, slowly and softly thrusting in and out of his tight hole. he cried out from the feeling, the fake cock brushing against all the right spots.

you glance up at his face once more just to check up on him, the worry you felt faltering a bit. you decide to test the waters, moving a little quicker into him, making sure to be gentle and careful just in case you accidentally hurt him.

“y/n-“ he moaned, his breath heavy as he desperately reached down to grip onto the sheets. “faster..” he whined.

gladly, you start to move even faster, his jaw dropping open while loud moans and cries spilled from his mouth uncontrollably. “y/n-! s-so good!” his breath came out in short, soft gasps, his cock bouncing against his stomach with each quick thrust.

his moans sounded so adorable to you, so sensitive and cute. you start to slow down, letting him catch his breath just for a moment. he pants, a little disappointed you slowed down, but was thankful.

“fuck… y/n that—“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence before you suddenly started your thrusts again, this time a little too fast. he almost screamed, his thighs trembling as his prostate was pounded into over and over again. he cried out your name over and over again, his eyes tearing up and his desperate moans getting louder as you reached down to stroke his hard cock. he swore he felt like his legs were going to give out right then and there. his cock finally bursted with so much spurts of cum, covering his tummy and some of his chest with his own seed.

he pants as you slowed down, your thrusts now gentle and slow to help him ride out his powerful orgasm.

“are you okay..? i didn’t hurt you right?” you ask, rubbing his thighs softly and soothingly.

“i-i’m okay.. felt so good..” he spoke almost quietly, his breath still heavy. you hum at that, gently pulling out and cleaning him up, before the two of you finally head to bed, snuggling up in each others arms.

#txt x reader #txt moa #txt #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #huening kai x reader #huening kai smut #txt huening kai #hueningkai smut #huening kai hard hours #huening kai hard thoughts #hueningkai #hueningkai hard hours #huening txt #kpop smut #kpop hard thoughts #kpop hard hours #kpop x reader

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achillesuwu · 2 days ago

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It's midnight and I'm finally free (for the next 10 hours then I'm back studying 😔😔😔 why can't they let students celebrate Christmas & New Year with gay fanfic in peace😔😔😔) SO I'M GOING TO ENJOY THIS WITH MY FRIED BRAIN YEHA!!!!!!

>I always thought I was going to be wild only on Ao3 HEY if anyone here reads this NO YOU DID NOT!!!

Hehehehehehe I love how everytime you speak to me you become even wilder 😌😌 ✨

>But also *pervy voice* here it is

YEAHHHHHH *CHEERING 📣*

>["Spank me."

Well, dinner first Arthur ✋ (joke aside I was expecting this but not this fast dknsjdbsbsjbz but I'm not complaining ehehhehehehhehehehehe)

>Merlin's palms prodding at his arse cheeks, massaging him like he was kneading bread buns.

Oh, to be merlin 😔🫶 I wish I had such (fictionally) stress ball

>Arthur opened his mouth to find the air again, lost in the bliss of it all. His neck craned back, and his lips parted on a prolonged mewl, one that made Merlin grip the back of his thigh with an hiss,

He is so pretty ✨✨✨✨✨

>"Fuck, Arthur--"

Do it Merlin 🫵 (my eyes are fighting for their life to close but gay porn is stronger!!!!!!!)

>His ears buzzed, and Merlin did it again. And another time, and one more, until the sounds of the slaps became arousing, to the point Arthur started squirming on the bed.

Arthur squirming makes every fic better 😌😌😌😌😌😌

>Merlin's hands skimmed up and down Arthur's throbbing flesh, like a man worshipping his deity, up to the hollow of his knees, raising his husband's body up what was needed, only to resume what he had been doing.

Worshipping and manhandling his husband as he should 😌😌😌😌 (also Arthur is so a pillow princess here zbjdbebdbdhd)

>He tried to raise his ass to feel the hits, and he presented the image of an arch, majestic enough to make Merlin's breath hitch, Arthur's spine a curve that stretched like the string of a guitar. His belly rose and fell, and his sweat had became so much, Arthur believed his body was as damp as if he had just gotten out of a shower.

10 000/10, deserve an award, HELL YEAH & I actually died, RIP ME.

>Happy Christmas' Eve

HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO YOU TOO AND MINE STARTED WITH THIS BEAUTIFULLY✨✨✨✨OMG JZBDBZJSJSJ

> I NEED TO CALM DOWN

Don't listen to your sanity listen to me do not calm down~~~

>my first time writing something on Tumbl

What an amazing start 😌😌😌😌✨

I'm a sucker for time travelling character that think that their past self are EMBARRASSING ™ and I think that it would very much be the case for Arthur (post-return) if he meet Arthur 'MERlin us so USELESS' Pendragon

Does post-return Arthur still make joke about Merlin? Of course, but only HE can do that!!!

Does post-return Arthur want to kick younger Arthur in the ass? Yes of course (you don't understand merlin he is a BRAT Oh I think I do)

#'husband' because they had just got married during the day and this was their honey moon ihihihih #AAAAWWWWWWWWWWW #But also I think most people don't get ban as long as you aren't too loud lol #Their search engines is shitty anyway how will they even find this lmao #merthur #bbc merlin

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loveydovey489 · 2 days ago

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The 141. (And laswell.)

TW: none!!

Are SO nosy. Like it’s fucking horrible. With EVERYTHING. As silly as it is. A good bit off goss is actually kind of comforting? Being able to shut and chat shit? How more civilian and domestic can it get?

It distracts them from the constant bloodshed, the destruction the death, so they can just sit around, and just chat shit.!

With laswell on thier side. Oh boy it gets ever better. Because laswell, and her gossip obsessed wife. (Who is like a CIA agent from how much she’s online finding new goss) they have a shit ton of gossip to talk about. On down time, waiting for things mid mission. Maybe mid mission. If it’s really that juicy.

Price and ghost normally just listen and the two Sargents brutally talk shit. Ghost will pipe up every so often. And price with just grumble in a knowledge ment. But he does love the tea.

And laswell mid mission will pipe up with goss.

Laswell: “boys. Just found somthing.”

Price: “ new info laswell”

Laswell: “Sargent (whoever)’s wife cheated on him.”

gaz: “I KNEW IT!”

Ghost: “not surprised. Have you seen the man, bloody hell.”

They’re just a group of traumatised teenagers at heart ehe

Side note: I feel like I keep writing silly hc about them. I do know they’re dangerous scary men! But these are more fun to write!!!, should I try scary ones??

#cod mw reboot #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #call of duty #john price #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #gaz #simon ghost riley #ghost #laswell mw2 #laswell cod #kate laswell #soap #cod 141 #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 #grown men acting like teenage girls? I think yes.

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simplepotatofarmer · 2 days ago

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Found out Techno started a book club today [clip]. :)

Ranboo: “What does my notebook have? Oh. That’s depressing.”

Techno: “I feel like you should know what you wrote in your own—Oh.”

Techno: “Let’s write about our feelings. Yeah!”

Was gonna say I love how pro mental health and feelings he is but…. then I just imagined them all writing fanfic to post to Wattpad lol. Hence, why he was trying to get Dream to be more open about his fanfiction in prison so he could join the book club when he got out. XD LOL

c!techno really did just want to have a book club but everyone kept creating governments and messing that up for him, tsk tsk.

but it's actually funny how open techno is about feelings and whatnot. he struggles when it's a very serious or dark/upsetting subject matter because he's not sure how to handle it but he truly does his best when it comes down to it. i love that about him.

#loyal answers things #speaking of bad takes.#the emotionless one will always get me......#or 'emotionally constipated' that was the big one #no he was GOOD at expressing his feelings most of the time!#y'all just didn't LIKE what he was feeling #technoblade #dsmp #c!techno

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kingofbodyrolls · 3 days ago

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REMMY—😭😭😭When you told me to check Tumblr because you’d left a review, I was NOT prepared for this emotional ambush 😭 The fact that you took the time to write something so thoughtful? For me?? ME??? 😭 Days have passed, and I’m still sitting here sniffling into my tea.

I’m absolutely over the moon that you’re enjoying your birthday gift so far! (Though my ignorant European ass did forget about those pesky Freedom Units again… 😂). It’s cozy without feeling cramped, right? ✨ And the way you called it a WHOLE ASS WORLD? 😭 I’m sobbing. I didn’t even think I did that much world-building for this one—I purposefully kept it light because I didn’t want to bog down the story with scene explanations and accidentally double its length. (Though let’s be real, you know I love doing that).

And yes! I normally don’t write Yoongi like this, but I decided to mix it up this time. He’s quieter, more reserved, but his actions? Oh, his actions. They’re practically shouting with love and warmth! He’s going to be there for Y/N in ways that feel so steady and genuine (don’t worry—no big bad angst! The only backstory drama is Jimin’s past, which… maybe was a spoiler? Whoops 😬).

His daughter? Adorable. Sweet, polite, playful—she’s everything 🥹 You’ll see (or should I say read). And oh, the location details! As I told you on Discord, this place is pretty far out—like five hours from the big city by car (even longer by public transport). It’s a poorer neighborhood, which is why everything is so affordable—Y/N’s house is dirt cheap compared to her city apartment.

AND JIMIN—😭😭😭 I’m actually tearing up again because this Jimin owns my entire heart. I’ve never met the man (obviously), but I poured so much of what I imagine him to be into this story. He feels so authentic to me, and I hope that comes across for you too! He’s warm, welcoming, and OH, you’re going to get so much more of him 😏

As for Y/N—YOU are Y/N! (Or not—you do you. Personally, I dissociate completely 😂 I write Y/N as someone totally different from myself.) But yes, the tea she’s drinking? Absolutely your favorite 🥰

THE BEST PRESENT YOU’VE EVER HAD??? 🥹 Now I’m straight-up bawling. I hope that’s just a sweet exaggeration, though, because surely you’ve received something better than this silly little story! Either way, I’m over the moon that it made you so happy. I was low-key terrified you might not like it 🫣Thank you so much for reading and leaving that incredible review, @remmykinsff 🫂 You know I absolutely adore you. And for the love of Jimin, don’t forget to eat! (Did you enjoy them, by the way?) Sending you all my love and a billion hugs 💜

Songs of the Heart (m) | pjm | chap 1: rebirth

Having just settled into a small house on the outskirts of the bustling city, you’re drawn into the haunting melodies of your neighbor’s sad love songs, echoing through the quiet walls day after day. Concerned, you finally gather the courage to knock on his door, unsure of what to expect—only to be face-to-face with Park Jimin, the renowned singer-songwriter whose voice has touched millions. What begins as a simple gesture of kindness soon unravels into something far more complex, as the melodies of his heart beckon you closer.

→ Pairing: jimin x reader (female) → AUs: musician!au (not completely idol!au), single dad!au, slice of life!au → Trope: strangers to lovers / neighbors to lovers → Genres: slow burn romance / fluff / angst / smut / comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 5.6k → Warnings + triggers: nothing much, just heartache and small misunderstandings 🤭 → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: Hi!!! How are you doing?? 😄 I hope you’re as excited about this new series as I am (and I really, truly mean it when I say this might be my last series for a long while… so buckle up, it’s going to be a ride!). Now, before you go thinking I’m just setting myself up for failure, let me be real with you: my last Jimin series didn’t exactly set the world on fire—sigh. But I adore it, like, adore it. (I know, I’m biased, but can you blame me?) Soooo, this time, we’re going for a more “mainstream” vibe. Think heavily inspired by Jimin’s album Muse (seriously, his whole vibe in that is chef’s kiss), sprinkled with some Face flavor, and, honestly, just Jimin being Jimin. Because, let’s face it—he’s my bias, and I’m OBSESSED. Like, full-on crush mode. So, yeah, it’s basically me writing about my ultimate crush 😳 Now, let’s clear the air about the smut—I’m not going all-out with it here (though there will be some spicy moments, don’t worry 😉). Why? Well, I have a sneaky feeling this series is going to do okay (I mean, I adore these characters so much already 🥹, but engagement might be a different story). So, I’m going to save my energy for what really matters to me—the heart and soul of the story, instead of focusing too much on the smut (which, honestly, I’m not as into writing as I used to be). Okay, okay—back on track. I’m super excited to share this story with you, and I really, really hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Don’t forget to tell me your thoughts—whether you love it, hate it, or just want to fangirl over Jimin with me ✨ This whole story (which will be posted every Sunday for the next eight weeks) is for my dear friend @remmykinsff! I hope you’ll love it 💜

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next →

“Why the hell do you have so many boxes?” Yoongi groans, his voice slicing through the quiet winter air as he hefts a particularly heavy one—something he clearly should have let Namjoon handle. His breath fogs up like ghostly clouds, a silent testament to the biting cold.

You stand by the moving truck, arms crossed, the chill curling around you like an unwelcome scarf. The streetlamp above flickers weakly, casting long shadows over the small gathering of your life in boxes. You shiver, not just from the cold but from the weight of this moment—watching your brother Yoongi and your best friend Namjoon haul the sum of your memories into the truck, piece by piece, bound for a new beginning.

It wasn’t your choice to leave; the landlord had pulled the rug out from under you with a sudden hike in rent you couldn’t possibly manage. But this wasn’t just an ending. There was a glimmer of hope in the move—a small house on the outskirts of the city with a garden that you could already see yourself tending, sunlight warming your face. Perfect wasn’t something you’d often dared to dream of, but this felt close enough to touch.

Namjoon heaves the final box into the truck and straightens with a satisfied grin. “That’s the last of it. We managed to fit everything,” he says, his breath visible in the frost-tipped air.

Yoongi, less triumphant, leans against the truck, arms crossed, his usual scowl softened by exhaustion. “Not a lot of stuff, huh? Then why does everything weigh as much as a small planet?”

You roll your eyes at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Tiny apartments don’t leave room for a lot of stuff,” you murmur, thinking of your now-abandoned shoebox of a home. What you own might not fill much space, but every piece carries its own story, its own weight. To them, it’s just heavy. To you, it’s everything.

“Yoon, you should really hit the gym more,” you tease, your voice laced with playful scorn, though the grin on your face betrays your fondness. The sibling bond—a language of its own, fluent in jabs and unspoken affection.

“Are you calling me weak?” Yoongi snaps, his tone sharp, but the flicker of indignation in his eyes is almost theatrical. He knows the answer. You know he knows. It’s part of the game.

You laugh, the sound light and unbothered, a knowing glint in your eyes as you glance at his slender arms. “I don’t have to say it, do I?”

Before the exchange can escalate, Namjoon steps between you with a calm authority that feels as solid as the ground beneath your feet. “Alright, easy, you two. I’ll take care of the heavy lifting. Yoongi, you drive.”

Yoongi scoffs, letting your remark go as he shoots you a withering look that doesn’t quite land. He climbs into the driver’s seat with a practiced air of resignation, his fingers brushing over the steering wheel as Namjoon closes the back of the truck with a satisfying clunk.

The three of you settle inside the truck, and silence slips in, gentle and familiar, as the hum of the engine vibrates beneath you. The radio crackles to life, filling the space with the soft strains of a slow love song. The melody spills out like liquid silver, sad yet hopeful, and the singer’s voice—a perfect blend of sweetness and longing—wraps around you like a blanket against the cold.

Your chest tightens as the words begin to take root, burrowing into the quiet corners of your heart: “Even though I was pitch black, I can’t stop thinking about you all day long. Without you knowing, I want to take one step, then another, closer to you. Stay with you. I will be your reason. I hope this feeling reaches you.”

You stare out the frosted window, the aching beauty of the lyrics mingling with the soft glow of the late afternoon light. The world outside shifts and transforms as Yoongi steers the truck with steady hands, the city’s sprawling chaos giving way to the calm, snow-dusted edges of the outskirts. Frost clings to the barren trees and lonely streetlamps, their icy shimmer catching the fading sunlight like quiet promises.

There it is—your new beginning, cradled in the quiet of the outskirts. The small house stands modestly, embraced by a low, whispering hedge that frames its quaint charm. A tiny terrace juts out at the front, its stone surface dappled with the faint traces of winter frost. You remember the cozy backyard from the last time you visited—a patch of earth waiting patiently for spring to bring it to life.

Yoongi eases the truck to a stop in front of the house, the engine humming briefly before falling silent. The three of you step out, boots crunching softly against the snow-dusted gravel. Your heart thuds louder with each step as you approach the door. It’s a humble thing—made of frosted glass that blurs the world on the other side, catching the dim afternoon light and casting it gently inside. You know that when the sun graces it, the whole entrance will glow like a promise.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you fit the key into the lock, turning it with a satisfying click. The door creaks open, and you step over the threshold into your new home. It greets you with its smallness—barely 80 square meters—but it feels vast compared to the cramped city apartment you left behind. Here, there’s space to breathe, to begin again. And the rent, blissfully lower than what the city demanded, makes it all the sweeter.

You glance at the neighboring house—a touch larger, its lot sprawling wider—but you don’t feel envy. This space is yours. Yours to fill with laughter, with quiet mornings, with life.

Flipping the light switch, the warm glow floods the entranceway. The layout unfolds before you in inviting simplicity. The entrance flows seamlessly into a snug living room, its openness spilling into the compact kitchen. The single bedroom feels intimate but holds a delightful surprise: a small walk-in closet that sets your heart alight with possibility. The bathroom, unexpectedly spacious, feels almost indulgent—a small luxury you hadn’t dared to imagine.

You stand in the quiet warmth of the space, letting it envelop you. Yes, it’s small. Yes, it’s simple. But it’s yours. For the first time in what feels like forever, you’re not just standing in a house. You’re home.

Namjoon brushes past you with a box in hand, his footsteps purposeful. “Where should I put this?” he asks, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of settling dust.

“In the bedroom, please,” you reply, recognizing your own messy scrawl on the side of the box. He nods, disappearing down the short hallway. Moments later, Yoongi follows, arms burdened with lighter boxes this time, his silent stare speaking louder than words. You’re not sure if it’s disapproval or exhaustion—or maybe a mix of both.

Together, the three of you move with practiced rhythm, unloading the truck, the occasional grunt of effort punctuating the soft winter stillness. One by one, your belongings find their way inside, until finally, after an hour and a half, the truck stands empty. Inside, your life now lies in disarray—boxes scattered like misplaced puzzle pieces across the small living room. Thankfully, the heavier furniture already sits snug in its designated spots, thanks to Namjoon’s methodical eye for order.

You all collapse onto the sofa, a symphony of sighs and tired exhales filling the room. The cushions envelop you like a long-awaited embrace, and you lean back, the ache in your muscles giving way to a fleeting moment of peace.

“Do you need help with anything else?” Yoongi asks, his tone more dutiful than eager. You catch the subtext immediately: he’s ready to leave, and who could blame him?

“No, I’m good,” you reply with a grateful smile, sinking further into the plush comfort of your sofa.

But Namjoon isn’t done yet. “Can we make dinner for you before we go?” he offers, sitting up straight as if a second wind has just hit him. You wave him off, declining politely, but he shakes his head, determined. “I saw a grocery store just down the street. Yoongi and I will grab a few things, and then he’ll cook for you.” He’s already on his feet, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves.

Yoongi remains rooted to the sofa, his arms crossed and his expression somewhere between incredulous and annoyed. “You think I’m going to cook for my baby sister?” he scoffs, throwing you a pointed look.

Namjoon doesn’t miss a beat, rolling his eyes like an exasperated parent. “What, are you planning to let your family starve?”

Yoongi’s brows twitch as he fires back, “She’s over thirty. She’s a grown-ass adult. She can take care of herself.”

Your lips part, ready to volley something back, but before you can, Namjoon grabs Yoongi’s arm, hauling him to his feet with an ease that speaks of strength and familiarity. “Come on, Mr. Grown-Ass-Adult,” he says dryly, shoving Yoongi’s coat into his hands while slipping into his own.

Yoongi grumbles under his breath, but he doesn’t fight it. As Namjoon steers him toward the door, he casts a helpless glance back at you, like a cat begrudgingly herded.

“We’ll be back in a moment,” Namjoon calls over his shoulder, his voice brimming with cheerful authority. “Relax. Or unpack. Your choice.”

The door swings shut behind them, leaving you in the stillness of your new home, the faint scent of winter air lingering. You let out a soft laugh, your heart warm despite the cold. Family might be exhausting, but they’re also everything.

Then the door closes, and for the first time today, you’re alone. The silence wraps around you like a fragile shell, amplifying the creak of settling walls and the faint hum of distant life. You sink into the sofa, letting the stillness settle, until your ears catch something unexpected—a faint thread of melody, a guitar’s quiet murmur drifting through the air.

Curiosity tugs you upright, your steps soft against the floor as you follow the sound. In your new bedroom, you pause, pressing your hand to the wall. The music is clearer now, gentle and raw, strings bending under someone’s practiced fingers. Your new neighbor, perhaps? The thought lingers as you drift back to the kitchen, the faint melody becoming a backdrop to the rustle of cardboard and clinking pans. You begin to unpack—the pans your brother will use to cook, the utensils that clatter together like an impromptu percussion. Cooking has always been his way of showing love, and you can’t wait to taste the comfort it brings.

As you move through the small kitchen, time slips through your fingers like grains of sand. You make progress—each box emptied feels like a small triumph. The living room is next, and though you didn’t bring much, your touch begins to transform the space into something warm, something yours.

The sharp chill of winter sweeps in as the front door swings open, announcing Namjoon and Yoongi’s return. Cold air rushes past them, carrying the earthy scent of snow and fresh groceries. Shoes and coats are shed in a flurry of motion, and Namjoon drags his bags to the counter, while Yoongi mumbles something under his breath—his version of commentary that you’ve long learned to ignore. Yoongi grumbles as he hauls two bags into the kitchen, while Namjoon shoulders four with ease, a playful smirk on his face as he shakes the cold from his hair. Your brother dives into the kitchen, already rifling through drawers to find the pans you just unpacked.

As you help Namjoon sort the groceries, you note their choices: fresh greens, vibrant vegetables, sturdy staples like rice, beans, and coconut milk. Practical and thoughtful, as always. Your brother doesn’t waste time, snapping orders your way to chop this and rinse that. Namjoon, wisely, steers clear of the chaos and retreats to the sofa, knowing better than to tempt fate near a knife.

You and Yoongi move seamlessly, a practiced rhythm born of years of shared meals and unspoken communication. The kitchen fills with the sizzling symphony of cooking: onions crackling, garlic blooming in fragrant waves, and the gentle stir of sauces melding together. The aroma wraps itself around you, warm and grounding, a promise of the meal to come.

When the food is done, the three of you gather at your small round dining table. The plates are filled with comfort—steaming rice, perfectly cooked vegetables, and savory flavors that speak of home. Yoongi hums faintly in approval as he eats, his silence a language of contentment. Namjoon, ever the conversationalist, smiles wide as he asks about the neighborhood. You don’t know much yet, but his enthusiasm fills the gaps.

The meal lingers, rich and satisfying, until the plates are empty and the room carries only the faint scent of what was. They stand to leave, hugs exchanged at the door, their warmth momentarily shielding you from the cold creeping back in. As they drive off, the truck rattling softly into the night, the quiet returns. But this time, it feels different. Not empty.

Your home, though still half-full of boxes, feels alive now, touched by their presence. And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Silence settles again, fragile and heavy—except for that faint sound of a guitar, now joined by a man’s voice. It drifts through the stillness, soft and haunting, the kind of melody that reaches into places you didn’t know were aching. From the little you can hear, his voice holds a quiet sorrow, tinged with a beauty that seems almost too fragile for this world. Wrapped in the haze of a full belly and the gentle pull of exhaustion, you sink deeper into the cushions of your couch. The music lulls you, and before you know it, sleep claims you.

When you wake, it’s to the sharp protest of stiff muscles, your body groaning in rebellion. You stretch, long and languid, wincing as you ease into movement. The living room light is still on, casting a warm but tired glow across the scattered boxes. Reaching for your phone, you blink at the screen: Saturday morning.

A sigh escapes you, accompanied by another stretch, your bones clicking softly in protest. As you yawn, the faint strands of music that lulled you to sleep the night before have grown bolder, louder, weaving through the quiet morning air. It’s coming from next door, a melody more insistent now, rising and falling like a tide against your walls.

You pause, half-annoyed, half-curious. Who plays music so loudly on a Saturday morning? Still, it isn’t unpleasant. The sound curls around you, melancholy and mesmerizing, coaxing goosebumps to bloom along your arms.

Shaking off the morning grogginess, you shuffle into the kitchen to make tea, the faint chill of the floor against your bare feet grounding you. As the kettle hums and hisses to life, your attention drifts back to the music. This song, like the one before, carries a sadness that pierces through its beauty, the kind of sorrow that feels personal yet strangely universal.

You sip your tea slowly, the warmth unfurling through your chest, and let the notes wrap around you. The lyrics, muffled but achingly tender, float into your thoughts. A sad love song, you think—heartache distilled into sound.

And then, for a fleeting moment, your mind wanders. Who is your neighbor, and what might they be feeling? It’s hard not to wonder. To play songs like this on a quiet Saturday morning—it speaks of longing, of loss, of someone trying to untangle the knots of their heart.

Exhaustion anchors you to the couch, your body heavy with the weight of weeks spent unpacking, working, and simply trying to adjust. The hours blur together as you let yourself drift, half-lost in the steady stream of music flowing from your neighbor’s house. Sad love songs, one after another, their melodies curling through the air like smoke, filling the silence with their ache. At least your neighbor has good taste; the voice is mesmerizing, familiar, tugging at the edges of your memory. And then it clicks: you’ve heard it before, floating from car radios or playing softly in cafes.

Nearly two weeks slip by, the days stacked like unopened letters. Despite the proximity, you’ve yet to meet your enigmatic neighbor, though their music has become an unintentional soundtrack to your life. Namjoon, ever the social butterfly, has nudged you more than once to pay them a visit. “Just say hi,” he urged, grinning. But socializing hasn’t exactly been high on your list, not when there are boxes to unpack, deadlines to meet, and your energy drained to its dregs.

Still, a seed of worry takes root. The songs haven’t changed—still steeped in longing, still carrying that unshakable sadness. Day after day, it’s as if the house next door is exhaling heartbreak. Maybe Namjoon’s right. Maybe you should go introduce yourself, ask about the neighborhood, and gently check if everything’s okay.

Which is how you find yourself walking up the snow-dusted path to your neighbor’s door, nerves prickling like the winter air against your skin. Their house looms larger than yours, its quiet elegance a subtle reminder of its age and stature. Even the door, frosted glass like your own, feels imposing—a pale barrier between curiosity and the answers waiting behind it.

Your footsteps crunch softly on the frozen ground as you approach. You hesitate, your breath clouding in the cold, before raising a hand to knock. For good measure, you press the doorbell too, its chime echoing faintly into the stillness.

And then you wait, heart thrumming in quiet anticipation.

The music drifts out from the house, faint yet achingly persistent, wrapping around you like the winter chill. You shift on your feet, blowing warmth into your hands, impatient as the cold nips at your nose and fingers. Just as the thought of retreating crosses your mind, the door creaks open.

Your gaze lowers, meeting a pair of wide, brown curious eyes belonging to a little girl. She’s impossibly small, bundled in a sweater too big for her, her dark hair a gentle mess. Her smile, shy but sweet, carries a warmth that momentarily pushes back the frost.

“Hi,” she says, her voice as soft as a whisper of wind through snow-covered trees. She studies you carefully, her head tilting as though trying to puzzle you out.

You return her smile, bending slightly to her level. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I just moved in next door.” A pause, then a gentle laugh. “I was getting a little worried with all the sad music coming from here. Are your parents home?”

Her smile falters, her gaze flickering downward before rising to meet yours again. There’s something heavy in her small expression, far too much for a child her age. “It’s just me and my dad,” she says quietly, her voice tinged with something you can’t quite name.

Your heart clenches at her words, though you don’t fully understand why. She’s so young, so sweet, and yet there’s a fragility to her presence that stirs something protective in you. For a moment, you wonder about her mother, where she might be, what might have happened.

“Is your dad home?” you ask gently, your tone as soft as your smile.

She nods, stepping back into the warm glow of the house. “I’ll go get him. Please wait here,” she says, her words so polite they make you smile again. She scurries off, leaving you at the threshold with the frosty air swirling in around your feet.

As you stand there, you catch glimpses of the house’s interior: the dim light casting long shadows, the faint smell of wood and something floral, and always that music—a bittersweet tune that seeps into every corner.

When she returns, she isn’t alone. A man follows her, his presence filling the doorway.

Your breath catches, your jaw slack as your mind struggles to process the sight before you. You’d expected the father of the sweet little girl to be ordinary, unassuming. But this? This man? He’s a vision pulled straight from the realm of angels.

The first thing you notice is his presence—tall, confident, yet carrying a quiet weariness that tugs at the edges of his posture. He’s dressed simply, but somehow that makes him all the more striking. A plain white t-shirt stretches across his chest, the sleeves rolled just enough to bare sinewy arms, and on his wrist, a faint tattoo peeks out like a secret. His black dress pants sit high on his impossibly small waist, falling loosely down his legs in elegant folds, a sharp contrast to the effortless way he carries himself.

And then there’s his face—soft yet devastatingly sharp, a contradiction of beauty. His jawline is so defined, it looks as if it could carve through stone, and yet his full lips, slightly parted as if mid-thought, ground him in warmth. His eyes—soft brown, tender, and framed by glasses and sleeplessness—pull you in, speaking of long nights and untold stories.

His hair, warm blonde kissed with streaks of brown at the roots, falls in uneven waves, longer in the back. It looks as if it was tousled by the wind or restless fingers, and you can’t help but wonder if he even knows how effortlessly beautiful he is. A few faint birthmarks dot his skin, adding something human to a face that feels otherworldly. As he steps closer, his features soften even more, and your pulse quickens.

“Hi,” he says, his voice a low, soothing melody that sinks into your bones. It’s angelic yet grounded, the kind of sound that lingers, reverberating long after the words are spoken. “What can I do for you?”

For a moment, you forget how to speak, how to breathe, how to exist. All your intentions, your purpose, your very reason for knocking on his door dissolve under the weight of his gaze. You can only stare, unmoored, helplessly captivated.

“This lady said she’s our new neighbor,” the girl chirps beside him, her bright voice cutting through your daze like sunlight through clouds. She looks up at her father with a grin, and he nods, clearing his throat.

He steps closer, extending a hand toward you, the motion deliberate and polite. His hand is warm when it meets yours, soft in a way that belies the calluses at his fingertips—marks of labor, of skill, of a life lived.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” he says with a gentle smile, and you realize your heart is racing, thundering in your chest like it’s trying to escape.

“My name is Jimin, and this is my daughter, Hwa-Young,” he says, his voice soft yet resonant, like the distant hum of a melody that refuses to be forgotten. It’s only then that you realize—mortifyingly—that you’re still holding his hand, the warmth of his palm grounding you far too much. With a jolt, you release it, your cheeks burning like embers, the sting of your foolishness wrapping itself around you. This is why you don’t talk to people, you scold yourself silently. You’re a mess. A fool.

The moment blurs, and you barely register Jimin’s words as he politely repeats something—was it your name? Before you can respond, Hwa-Young steps in, her voice clear and chiming with youthful certainty. “Her name is Y/N,” she declares with the pride of someone who’s solved a puzzle.

Jimin smiles, his expression warm enough to melt the frost clinging to your thoughts, and opens the door wider. “Would you like to come inside for a cup of tea, Y/N?”

You nod mutely, words lodged somewhere between your heart and throat. Speaking feels too dangerous; your silence, you hope, can’t betray how tangled your thoughts have become.

Inside, the house welcomes you with a kind of quiet charm. You peel off your coat and shoes, swapping them for a pair of slippers left by the entryway. The hallway leads you into a living room bathed in soft, creamy tones, its minimalist style broken only by the unmistakable fingerprint of family. Children’s drawings hang on the walls in uneven rows, their vibrant colors a stark but beautiful contrast to the muted decor. A small clay sculpture, wobbling slightly on its base, sits proudly on a side table. It feels like stepping into a story—a place where every corner holds a piece of life lived and loved.

Jimin gestures toward the sofa, and you sink into its inviting cushions, the fabric soft against your fingers. Hwa-Young follows, nestling beside you with a quiet familiarity, her presence grounding. From the nearby kitchen, the faint clatter of porcelain and the rustling of tea packets signal Jimin’s quiet movements.

The room feels alive with warmth, not just from the home itself but from the gentle energy of its inhabitants. You take it all in—the way the light filters through the curtains in golden streaks, the faint scent of lavender mingling with the hum of boiling water, and the soft chatter of a child’s imagination as Hwa-Young shows you a paper star she made.

You glance toward the kitchen, where Jimin moves with unhurried grace, and a strange calm settles over you. Maybe, just maybe, this unexpected meeting wasn’t such a mistake after all.

“Are you from the city?” Hwa-Young asks, her voice bright with curiosity, her smile tugging at the corners of her youthful face. You nod, mirroring her smile with one of your own.

“Yes, I just moved in about two weeks ago,” you reply, the words tumbling out like snowflakes in the quiet. “How old are you?”

“I just turned ten!” she exclaims, her voice brimming with pride, her grin wide and unrestrained. Somehow, the innocence in her joy stirs something deep within you, a warmth that begins to thaw the cold edges of your weary heart.

“Congratulations,” you say softly, folding your hands in your lap as if to hold the fragile moment still.

Jimin enters the room, carrying two steaming mugs of tea. He sets them gently on the coffee table, the soft clink of ceramic against wood breaking the silence. With effortless grace, he disappears briefly, returning with a glass of water for his daughter. As he takes his seat in a plush chair opposite you, his presence feels both calming and grounding, like the steady rhythm of a familiar song.

“How are you liking the town so far?” he asks, his voice carrying a soothing cadence, as if he’s accustomed to drawing out answers with kindness alone.

Lifting the mug to your lips, you blow softly on the surface of the tea, the fragrant steam curling upward like a wisp of memory. “I like it so far,” you say, your tone reflective, as though you’re still making sense of this new chapter in your life.

The faintest flicker of realization ignites, and you remember the reason for your visit. You set the mug down, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “I haven’t seen much of it yet. Between work and unpacking, I’ve barely had a chance to explore. But, actually…”

He takes another sip of his tea, and you can’t help but let your gaze linger. The delicate curve of his lashes, impossibly long and casting soft shadows on his cheekbones, draws your attention. His lips—pink, full, and unassuming—meet the edge of the mug, and for a brief, absurd moment, you find yourself wondering how something so simple could be so captivating.

What are you even thinking? You shake off the thought, clearing your throat.

“Ah, yes,” you stammer, a little too loudly. “I couldn’t help but notice…” You trail off, grappling for the right words. “I’ve heard a lot of sad songs coming from your house since I moved in, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Like, not…heartbroken or anything?”

Your words hang in the air, an awkward tangle of concern and curiosity, and you silently curse yourself for blurting them out. Was that a question or a statement? Even you aren’t sure.

But then he smiles—a real, genuine smile—and for a split second, his eyes vanish into crescents of warmth. His teeth peek out, slightly crooked, but so charming it nearly takes your breath away. Running a hand through his tousled blonde hair, he chuckles softly, his laugh like a melody in itself.

“Oh, that’s me. I’m the one guilty of all the sad music,” he admits, his voice carrying a quiet confidence that makes you feel at ease despite your earlier awkwardness.

Your brow furrows in thought as you tap your pointer finger against your lips, the name of the voice eluding you. “What’s the name of the artist? I know I’ve heard him on the radio, but I just can’t place it…”

His smile blooms, radiant and unrestrained, his eyes crinkling into crescents of pure light. “That’s me,” he says, a giggle escaping his lips, soft and melodic like the hum of a lullaby.

You blink at him, utterly perplexed, your mind spinning as you try to piece together what he could mean. “Sorry?” you venture hesitantly, hoping for clarity, your confusion painted plainly across your face.

“The artist,” he explains, his voice effortlessly calm and sure, “is Park Jimin. And I’m Park Jimin.”

The name lands in your ears, but it takes a second longer for the meaning to sink in. His daughter bursts into delighted laughter, while you sit frozen, your expression surely something straight out of a cartoon—wide eyes, jaw unhinged, disbelief written all over you.

Your thoughts race, chasing one another in circles. His voice, angelic and hauntingly beautiful, had felt familiar from the moment you heard it. And suddenly, the puzzle clicks into place. The songs—the ones that wrapped around you like a bittersweet embrace—were his. His.

Your eyes dart toward one of the rooms down the hall, where the music had been flowing endlessly up until the moment he greeted you. But now, the silence is palpable, a stillness that confirms your dawning realization. It wasn’t the stereo at all. It was him.

“Daddy, show her a song!” Hwa-Young pipes up, her small voice brimming with excitement as she hops off the couch and scampers toward a room. The door is ajar, revealing a glimpse of equipment and scattered papers.

Jimin’s smile softens, his eyes meeting yours with a gentle invitation. Without a word, he rises and gestures for you to follow. And as though caught in a spell, you do, your curiosity pulling you forward.

His studio is a world unto itself—a symphony of black and white, sleek lines, and personal chaos. Guitars in all shapes and sizes line the walls, their polished bodies gleaming under soft light. A microphone stands at attention, its cable curling like a lifeline to the scattered pages of sheet music littering the desk and floor.

It’s not just a room; it’s a glimpse into his soul, a sanctuary of sound and vulnerability. You can’t help but let your gaze linger, taking in the effortless beauty of it all.

Hwa-Young leaps onto the couch with a boundless energy that only a child can muster, the cushions bouncing under her weight. She pats the spot beside her, a silent invitation laced with an innocent warmth. You accept, settling in as Jimin crosses the room with a quiet confidence, his every movement purposeful yet unassuming. He retrieves an acoustic guitar, its wood glowing faintly under the soft overhead light, and perches on a nearby stool.

“Play her that new song, dad,” Hwa-Young beams, her voice lilting with pride and affection. She leans back into the couch, her tiny frame dwarfed by its embrace, but her presence fills the room.

Jimin nods, a soft smile tugging at his lips, and then his fingers meet the strings. A single strum reverberates, low and tender, a sound that seems to dissolve the walls and pull you into a different world.

And then he sings.

His voice flows like a stream over smooth stones—gentle, searching, yet laced with a fragile ache. Feather-light and haunting, it brushes against you, delicate as a whisper yet powerful enough to root you in place. “We never met, but she’s all I see at night.Never met but she’s always on my mind.Wanna give her the world,And so much more.Who is my heart waiting for?If every day I think about her,Yeah, every day of my life.Then tell me why I haven’t found her.”

Each note hangs in the air like a secret meant only for this moment, for you, for the stillness that has settled over the room. Your mind empties, swept clean by the sheer beauty of his voice, each syllable carrying raw emotion that you can’t help but feel, though it’s not your story to claim.

You watch him, this man who pours his heart so freely before a stranger, as if vulnerability were as natural as breathing. His fingers dance over the strings with practiced ease, but it’s the weight in his voice—the yearning, the quiet pain—that lingers in your chest.

A flicker of a question rises, unbidden, as you take in the scene—a renowned singer-songwriter, his talent unmistakable, living humbly in this crappy and cheap neighborhood. Why here? Why this place, when his voice alone could carry him anywhere? But the question dissipates as quickly as it forms, lost in the tide of his music. At this moment, none of it matters.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv

→ Series taglist: @13-manggaetteok @mima795 @hnnnjm @flaneuseonthestreets @miniesjams32 @graydolan12

→ Author’s endnote: soooo?? Tell me everything! What do you think about Jimin? Is he stealing your heart yet, or is it his adorable daughter who’s totally got you wrapped around her tiny finger? 👀💜 And don’t even get me started on what’s coming next... are you excited? Nervous? Ready to cry?? Because trust me, the next chapter has all the feels™. Let’s hear your thoughts—I’m dying to know!

#remmykinsff <3 #remmy <3 #fic: songs of the heart #fic review

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