#if i see a story I don't like for a thing that I like I will rewrite things and I will create things to get over that rage

[dduane]

I have been trying to write fic (well, smut) set in a world where certain things are slightly different to serve the fic's plot.

However, each time I try I have run into a problem: my head insists I need to justify the changes - I need to know comprehensive details about how the world works so I can ensure everything is consistent and not too f'd up.

So I get bogged down, and don't write a word. What do?

In your position, I’d sit down and write myself a bible.

This is how I did my prep for Barbie: Fairytopia.* And how I’ve done it for various works of fic presently on AO3… and how I’m doing it right now for the new Sherlock Holmes and the Giant Rats of Sumatra III project. I was taught this art by my animation story editors at Hanna-Barbera, and it’s stood me in good stead. (Peter and I pulled down our first miniseries assignment from a company that told us “we gave great bible.” And that was true.) 😄

When I say “bible” I don’t necessarily mean something that thick! (Though some of mine have been pretty hefty, with one TV project’s bible running more than a hundred pages… because I knew I had skeptical and underinformed TV execs to convince about something historical.) For the kind of purpose we’re describing here, your prep bible could be quite short: maybe looking like a bullet-pointed “shopping list”, five or ten pages long. It can be just as long or short as it needs to be to cover all your salient points.

The idea is simply to put down, in concrete form, a list of the main “different things” you need to know and remember about your alternate universe when you’re working in it. This is where you do your justification work, in as much or as little detail as you need to convince yourself you’ve got the necessary bases covered. The virtual “stage manager” who sits at the back of the theater of the Writing Department in your mind, judging when things are right, will be your guide here, and will advise you as to when you’ve got enough and it’s time to stop. And once this stuff is down on the page, you’ll be a position to judge critically whether everything makes enough sense to work with, and slots together correctly.

This is also a bit like (for the prose part of a project) outlining, in that it’s incredibly freeing. Once you’ve got this background nailed down, you know you can safely turn your attention away from it and get down to the serious business: drama, and the character interactions that express it. (And inevitably as you’re doing the bible writing, you start getting ideas for how the substrate you’re laying down is going to affect the conflicts between and among the characters. The bible stage can be incredibly fruitful this way.)

It would be facile to describe the bibling process as “getting the easy part over with first”. Because sometimes it’s not easy! But it’s worth doing first, because having done this first relieves you of the ongoing anxiety caused by knowing you may have to keep inventing or rationalizing stuff on the fly. (Which can produce the kind of micro-blocks that a writer can generally really do without.) …Not that you’re not going to be inventing things on the fly anyway: that’s a normal part of the writing process. But the biggest and most obvious issues will have been handled already, and you’ll know they have; which is always a weight off one’s mind. And the fewer of those weights you have loading you down, when you’re in the midst of the labor of composition, the better.

Anyway, give it a shot and see how it works for you. And then you can, like the rest of us smut writers, get on to the really pressing business: making sure you haven’t lost track of where all the characters’ arms and legs (and things) are when you’re writing those hot steamy sex scenes. 😏

Hope this helps!

*ETA: My remit on this job did include creating a bible for them. But I write a rough-draft one for myself first, including various meta that I needed but they didn't.

[wanderingmind867]

This is the most relatable post you could ever make. This is literally me. Everytime I see a piece of horror media, I get so scared that I can't sleep or focus for months. I'm so easily scared and neurotic that I legitimately do sometimes get scared when i'm alone, because i don't trust things to be fine.

Here's a fun story I haven't told anyone besides my parents before: I didn't sleep on my own until I was at least 12. Until then, I insisted on sleeping with my dad. Because I was terrified of the darkness. And i felt sure that if i slept alone, i'd feel unsafe. Whenever i was awake in the darkness of my dad's room, i had paranoid visions of people trying to attack me, and I only warded those off by imagining my parents protecting me. I kid you not. I've always been this paranoid.

More stories! I can only sleep on my own now because I play a DVD in my bedroom. The mild sound and light helps me feel less scared. I had one of my first nightmares due to Coraline, which is why I hate Neil Gaiman. I now have a fear of puppets, due to that dhmis thing. The list of fears goes on. In essence: everything. Everything scares me. Except when it doesn't. And when it doesn't, i'm always baffled.

Like Frankenstein, Dracula and Werewolves don't scare me. I think it's because I see them as lonely and as rejects who just want companionship, which really helps me not feel scared of the old monsters. But nearly every other horror property messes me up. I'm scared of darkness, scared of horror movies, scared of being alone one day, scared of so many things i can't name them all.

This is absolutely why I have mixed feelings on The Scarecrow, by the way. That Batman villian and I have a complicated relationship, since I feel like his whole gimmick is designed to damage my psyche. I like him when he's played for more of a kid friendly audience (like in the lego games), but his fear toxin really freaks me out sometimes.

they call me the guy whos afraid of everything because. what was that. whos there

[aerifim]

imagine having a secret relationship with iwaizumi as the karasuno manager. like, the amount of thrill and excitement that would run through your veins the moment you lock eyes with him during a match is uncanny. the way his sharp gaze would linger for just a second too long before he snaps his attention back to the game—it's enough to send your heart racing.

the desperation of wanting to be near each other—knowing that the other is just right there—and resisting the urge to walk over to your boyfriend is a different level of risk. there's a magnetic pull between you, one that you both have to fight against to keep your relationship under wraps. 

though, despite the odds of being on opposing sides—and having to deal with the rivalry between your team and his—iwaizumi manages to find subtle ways to communicate with you between matches. a slight tug at his jersey means i miss you, a quick tap on his water bottle signals to meet you later, and a slight smirk across the court drives you absolutely nuts.

he even tries to sneak little notes into your bag, ones that say things like “you looked cute today. try not to stress too much over the crows.” 

but the struggle of not getting caught is real. kageyama and hinata always seem suspicious—especially since they seem to have a sixth sense when something feels “off”—but luckily they're too dense to put the pieces together.

but oikawa? he's a completely different story. he knows something is up. every time karasuno and aoba johsai are in the same vicinity, he teases iwaizumi mercilessly. 

“iwa-chan, you keep looking at karasuno’s manager. don't tell me you’ve got a crush.” he coos, only to get smacked upside the head.

there are so many close calls that almost revealed your relationship to the whole team. like the time you accidentally just called him “hajime” in front of your team, making tanaka and nishinoya immediately latch onto it. or when you and iwaizumi almost left a convenience store together after practice—laughing, completely forgetting that your teams were also inside. 

but then, it finally slips. the two of you got caught making out with each other in the storage room after a long, intense, and competitive practice match against aoba johsai. neither of you saw the door swing open in time and the two most noisiest team members had caught you two in the act. 

to say that tanaka and nishinoya were shocked to see the sight of you and an aoba johsai teammate making out in the storage room would be an understatement. and soon enough, everyone else knew. 

it started small. once sugawara and daichi caught wind of it, they immediately sat you down and spoke to you about it. 

with the rest of the team. 

luckily, it wasn't that big of a deal on your end—if you ignore tanaka and noya’s dramatic commentary. but for iwaizumi? he had to deal with oikawa being a drama queen. 

but, after all the teasing, the fake outrage, and oikawa dramatically claiming he needed “emotional recovery time” (which was just an excuse to bother iwaizumi more), both teams accepted it. 

that didn't mean they'd stop messing with you two, though. 

any time karasuno and aoba johsai were in the same gym, oikawa would send exaggerated kisses in your direction for the sole purpose of pissing iwaizumi off. nishinoya and tanaka started calling him “brother-in-law” to see how long it would take to get him to snap. 

sugawara even joined in on it, casually mentioning things like, “wow, iwaizumi-san, you're so polite for someone who made out in our storage room.” 

and, despite all the teasing, the sneaky comments, and the endless smirks from both teams, you and iwaizumi wouldn’t change a thing.

because at the end of the day, it was worth it.

♡ happy valentines day! this is for @reiyaus :3 & for the 3 people alive in the haikyuu fandom rn.

[hughesmuse86]

+18 -> smut | Jack finds your Tumblr account (… and you’re reading stories about him 👀🤭)

𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: pet names, swearing, new relationship, kissing, they have not had sex yet, brief unprotected p in v, fingering, spanking, oral (female receiving), oral (brief; male receiving), praise, teasing, handjob, finger sucking, cum tasting, ownership kink, sex toys, brief rough sex, Jack goes through the reader’s things, thigh-slapping, the reader says she wants to have sex and they agree for round 2 he surprises her by switching the toy with himself

*the red indented text is the Tumblr story*

2.8k

Jack lay sprawled on your bed, his legs were draped off the edge, lazily tossing a practice ball into the air as he waited for you to get out of the shower. The faint hiss of water running in the bathroom had an oddly calming effect, but it did little to take his attention from the nagging temptation right beside him… your phone.

He wasn't the snooping type—or so he’d like to think. You were sweet and trusting, and your relationship was so new. The last thing he wanted was to screw it up by overstepping. But the phone vibrated again, its screen lighting up, and curiosity got the better of him.

"This is fucked," he mutters to himself, glancing toward the bathroom door to make sure you wouldn't catch him nonetheless.

He froze as he unlocked the screen, his jaw falling slack with shock. It wasn’t TikTok or Instagram… It wasn't Pinterest or anything he had seen before. This was something entirely different. “Shit,” he whispers, running his hand over his smirk as he continues to read the porn on the page before him.

Mhmm… Yeah. Sure. Is that why you're wearin’ that set I bought you, pretty? Just wanted to sit around? It’s almost like you wanted this to happen,” he mumbles, calling you out completely as he kicks his bedroom door shut, slamming the lock with a smirk before flicking his backward cap to the side.

"Maybe," you whisper, fighting back a smile as Jack lies on the floor.

His palm slams over his lips as he gasps and chuckles— eyes widening on the page as he reads his name. What the fuck is this? Is this a romance novel? I mean—I guess… He thinks to himself. Not just romantic in the generic sense, but detailed, explicit, and absolutely nothing like what he was expecting his sweet, innocent girlfriend to read.

Jack palms at his cock, already pushing against his pants. Finding him not getting off on the words he was consuming but the woman consuming them. His mind spins with the thought of you reading this with one hand on your phone and the other in your panties, playing with yourself as you read each filthy word about how your boyfriend fucks.

Jack's lips twitch into a grin as he scrolls down a few lines. “No way…” He shakes his head in disbelief, reading a little more.

Goddamn, you're lucky my brother’s not home… Hate for him to hear what a slut you are for me.” He quickly rolls you to your back, your hands still firmly wrapped. The veins in his neck protruded, that same smile still slicked on his lips. He grabs your wrists, pinning them against the carpet with a bruising grip.

The contrast between the innocent image he had of you and the vivid story on your screen sent a rush of warmth through him, his body tingling, heart pumping fast. He even found himself getting a little bashful at the thought of it, turning slightly only to see his blushed cheeks in the reflection of your floor-length mirror.

"Wow," he whispers.

Unable to help himself now, Jack's curiosity grows. He returns the phone to the bed and lets his eyes wander around your room. It’s cozy, filled with little personal touches—string lights, a collection of books, the aroma of your vanilla candle wafting in the air. His eyes fall onto your nightstand, and for just a second, he does hesitate. But he wants to know more.

"C’mon, man. Don't do it," he whispers, scolding himself, already reaching for the handle.

The drawer opens, nothing out of the ordinary: the chapstick he loves, an extra phone charger, a few books.

“Damn…” He freezes again. A pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs from your Halloween costume were tucked to the side, half-hidden by a scarf. He grabs the scarf, pulling it out nice and slow, finding a black satin bag below it.

Jack’s heart races, a mix of surprise and exhilaration coursing through his veins. “Holy shit, princess. What do we have here, huh?” He whispers, grinning like he had just found hidden treasure. He can only imagine what’s inside; he had a couple of ideas based on the silhouettes alone. He never imagined you’d have something like this. Not you, the girl who blushed when he kissed your forehead in public.

“Damnit.” He slams the drawer shut as he hears something, making the contents rattle. He lifts his fingers and runs them through his hair. His heart pounding in his head softens, letting him hear a new sound.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. He looks down at your phone, but the screen is black— no call or alarm coming in. His eyes double as he looks down in the other direction, getting closer to the source. He grabs the handle, pulls the drawer open, and sees the contents inside shifted from how hard he shut it.

He pulls back the scarf, watching the satin bag vibrate and turn slowly. Jack snatches the bag and peers inside, gasping again as he sees your toys. He didn’t recognize two—more familiar with the third. He pulls the rabbit vibrator out of the bag, watching in awe and lust as it swirls and shakes. He snaps himself out of his daze enough to shut it off.

Jack looks down at his body and then toward the door, curiosity getting the better of him. He tosses the bag to the bed and loops his fingers around his grey sweats, tugging them down enough to release his aching cock. His length slaps against his shirt, standing straight with a slight curve.

He lifts the vibrator in one hand, hissing at the contact when he wraps his fist around the other. Jack holds them up next to each other, smiling smugly as he catches all the differences playing in his favor. He could see all the veins and ridges of his cock where the toy was smooth, the girth of his dick wider than the silicone shaft. Jack pumps his dick a few times, feeling the blood pump through it.

He tosses his head back as he drags his hand up a little more, lowering his eyes again to watch the bead of precum that was gathered at his swollen tip roll slowly down the side. Jack looks back at the toy one last time, thinking about your warm, wet cunt swallowing up the smaller silicon tip— your glossy hole fluttering as the shaft vibrated with you.

He rolls out his neck, feeling himself embarrassingly close to cumming at his thoughts alone. Jack puts the toy back in the satin bag carefully, setting it down in its place softly, shutting the drawer slowly, attempting to compose himself as the bathroom door opens.

You step into the room, wrapped in a towel, your wet hair cascading over your shoulders. Jack struggles to sit up, his big body floundering slightly as he attempts to look casual—his usual swagger long gone. His cheeks flush even more; lip, bitten between his teeth to hold back his nervous chuckle, which quickly breaks loose.

"What's so funny?" You ask, cocking an eyebrow as you walk over to your dress, grabbing your lotion from the top.

Jack’s pretty eyes draw to your hands as you spread the creamy white between them, swirling it over your soft skin as a smug smile plays on his perfect lips.

Jack stands up, crossing the room in a couple of strides before wrapping his strong arms around your waist. He tilts down, kissing your forehead, then your nose, lingering on your pillowy lips before tucking himself in your neck, lips dusting your ear. "I found your shit, princess,” he rasps, his voice deep and teasing.

You freeze for a second, your mind racing. "My shit? Wh-What do you mean?”

"The handcuffs, your stories, the—" he pauses, his smile spreading along your warm, dewy skin, "…the toys. And I thought you were a good girl." He pulls away, expecting to see your flustered face, surprised when he catches the twinkle in your eye. Your head tilts slightly, eyes falling into a lusty haze.

"I never said I was."

Jack blinks, caught off guard by your confidence. He lets out a laugh, pulling you in tighter against him. "Goddamn, baby," he teases, his voice warm and hungry.

You set your hands on his chest as you look up at him. "Is that a problem?"

Jack's eyes darken slightly, his laughter softening as he leans in for a kiss. "It’s fuckin’ perfect," he mumbles against your lips, his excitement and affection for you only growing. "You keep surprising me, pretty."

"Could say the same," you counter with a smirk, tugging him in by his shirt. “Lookin’ through my shit like I have something to hide.”

"That’s true," he says, smiling into your kiss, eager to see what other surprises you had in store or what those two other toys were that he’d never seen before. “Let me apologize to you. Hmm?” He asks as his eyes fall to your towel, looking back up at you quickly. You give him a little nod, and he tugs at it fast, watching the fuzzy white material fall around your feet.

His eyes work up your body slowly, hands holding and kneading the fullness of your hips. Jack’s big hands trace your soft skin before cupping your breasts, squeezing, and watching the way your body reacts to his touch.

Grabbing for his white t-shirt, you pull it over his head. Your lips claim his as your fingers dance over the deep indentations of his abs, his cut v-lines disappearing below the band of his sweats. You curl your fingers under the elastic as your tongue slips in his mouth, swirling with his as you tug his pants off.

Jack lifts you off your feet into his arms as your tongues tangle together, your body rolling into his with the cadence of your kiss, the wetness of your soaked pussy transferring to his hot skin.

He lays you down on the bed and crawls on with you— the mischievous grin on his face spreading wider. “Grab your phone,” he hums against your lips. “Open it, princess. Think you have a story you need to finish. Yeah?” he says, stretching his big arms around the back of his head as he relaxes into your pillows. “Were you reading about me?” He asks, trying to hold back his smirk.

“Yeah,” you answer bashfully as he leans in a little closer.

“You obsessed with me, or what?” He teases.

“Is that not obvious–”

“Good,” he mumbles against your lips before kissing you gently. “‘Cause I’m obsessed with you too, pretty.”

Your eyes fall down his perfect body, Jack’s stiff cock trapped between the band of his White Calvin’s and his warm skin, the man incredibly hard. His tip’s messy with precum, pooled on his tip, making you lick your lips. You reach out your finger, pressing it against his swollen head, swirling it slowly, tracing his slit as his mouth falls open. Lifting your finger, you bring it to your lips, sucking down as he watches you close.

"You want me to read it out loud?"

Jack shrugs as he tucks himself into you, kissing along the column of your neck. "Why not? I'm curious,” he hums before sucking down on your sweet spot.

Your heart starts to race a little faster, pussy throbbing as Jack’s large hand traces up your body, squeezing your upper thigh. With a deep breath, you pull up the story again, sliding your finger to the part where you left off.

Jack adjusts his position, turning into you, his head resting on a shared pillow. "C’mon baby, let me have it,” he mumbles as his rough fingers draw along your soft skin.

Your voice comes out steady at first, reading a few lines, though. Looking at the next couple of words, you feel your cheeks warm up, skipping a few, but he stops you with a slap to your inner thigh, making you whimper with pleasure. Jack chuckles lustfully at the sound that pours from your lips, turning slightly to get a better look at your pretty face.

“M’gonna let that slide ‘cause you're so fuckin’ sexy,” he mutters drunkenly, his little punishment doing nothing but revving him up more. “You skipped somethin’, sweetheart. Don't cheat me out of the good parts."

"Okay, baby…” You smile.

He chuckles dizzily and leans in closer. "C'mon, keep going. I like hearing you read,” he praises as his fingers cup your pussy, pushing against your sex, making your head fall back. “Keep readin’,” he hums against your ear.

What?" He snickers. "Think I won. Just claiming my prize." He groans as he clutches his hard cock in his fist, running the tip through your soaked folds–

You try your best to focus, your voice trembling slightly as the story's tension heats up. Jack pushes two long fingers inside you, resting his thumb on your clit. "Don’t stop now… I think I’m gonna fuck you, baby. Shit’s gettin’ really, really good," he murmurs, his voice low and raspy.

You clear your throat, trying to disregard him, but he moves between his thighs, lips landing on your shoulder, soft and warm, tracing upwards.

You scream as he slams his long, thick dick deep. “Fuck!” You wail, mouth hanging open as he circles his hips nice and slow–

Your words stumble, fumbling over the last sentence as he loops his massive arms around your thighs, tugging you to your back.

"Jack…" you say, barely louder than a whisper, the phone trembling in your hands as his warm breath fans over your pussy.

"Mhmm," he replies, definitely enjoying your distraction.

–forcing himself as deep as possible, making you exhale a deep breath.

You manage to get a few more words out, shaky and rushed, as Jack flattens his tongue, licking a line up your slick folds. He chuckles against your skin, his breath hot as he presses a kiss against your clit.

"You're terrible at this, pretty," he teases, his grin infuriatingly smug and devastatingly handsome.

"That's because you're distracting me!" You whimper, tossing your phone down in defeat.

Jack laughs as he crawls towards your lips, kissing you tenderly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. "I was only tryin’ to help, baby," he whispers innocently before biting and tugging on your bottom lip as he traces up your thigh.

You huff at him playfully, any resolve that may have remained melting as he holds your cheeks in a single hand, puckering your lip. "You're cute when you're flustered," he whispers, kissing your lips.

You gasp as you feel Jack run the tip of something familiar through your glossy folds—too cold to be him, too wide to be his fingers.

“You gonna let me play with you, princess?” Jack asks, letting your cheeks go. You look between your thighs and see your vibrator in his fist, the pink tip glistening with your essence.

You slip your hands down his muscular body as warmth builds in your stomach, rocking your hips as Jack teases you. Wrapping your fingers around Jack’s thick dick, you hear a buzz, feeling the toy tremble, making you squeeze Jack’s cock a little tighter. He moans against your lips, turning it up to the highest setting.

“You can do whatever you want to me, baby,” you pant as he switches his hold, letting the little rabbit's ears flick against your aching pearl.

“Anything?”

“Shit,” you mewl as he drops down to your drooling hole again, letting the swirling head circle your entrance, Jack teasing you with just the tip. “Anything.” Your hips buck up slightly, and Jack pins you down by the hip, holding you in place.

“Mmm... Where are you going, princess?” He asks as your chest rises rapidly, breathing quicker than you were before.

“Fuck, Jack,” you gasp and moan as he stuffs it inside, the toy gliding effortlessly through your wetness. Jack holds it in place, making you squirm and move some more.

“This is just round one…” He whispers against your trembling lips. “You gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy for round two?”

“Yes… Yes, shit. Please fuck me.”

Jack kisses you deeply as he pushes it in and out, making you cry out against his lips, arms drifting around the back of his neck, holding on tight.

"I… Fuck, Jack. I'm gonna cum."

"Tell me when, baby," he breathes through a smile.

"Fuck... Ugh. I'm-" He draws out quickly, plunging his cock inside, robbing you of your breath.

Jack’s big hands grab your hips with a bruising grip as he fucks into you fast and hard, making you see stars. “Jack, Sh-Shit,” you whimper as you cum around his cock, muscles spasming again and again. Jack’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he gives you a few more punishing thrusts, making your breasts bounce as his toned hips smack against you.

You pull him to your lips, kissing him deeply, pushing him to roll yourself on top; his long, thick cock sheathed deep in your cunt still. You whimper at his size, feeling the delicious stretch between your thighs, nails running down his chest as you smile.

“How was that, princess?” He smiles, watching the way your legs tremble, the man gripping your thighs tightly before reaching around, spanking your ass, making your pussy tighten around him.

“So fucking good,” you smile as you throw your head back, rocking your hips, listening to the sounds of your soaked warmth and his deep moans.

Grabbing your phone, you hand it to him with a smile, lifting off his throbbing cock, seeing it sheened with your climax. “We’re not done with the story,” you whisper as you draw backward, slotting yourself between his thighs before running your tongue up his pulsing dick as he looks down at you, half-lidded and desperate.

“You want me to read this while you do that?” He asks dreamily, huffing out a deep, jagged breath as you spit on his tip.

“… C’mon baby, let me have it.”

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

0v0 Leona brainrot may I request a thing on Leona x reader where reader is mute from family trauma 0v0 (note love your stuff you feed my brain rot everyday also if you) also can you make it that in the story we have Reader think Grim is now our Son/or we see little brother and we talk to only him but then as per Leona x reader we talk to Leona at some point

Arm still hurts, but I put on a brace, so LET'S GO (don't follow my example)

Thank you for the Request! Leona has consumed my thoughts as well.

Synopsis: Reader with selective mutism slowly grows fond of the cold lion.

TW: mentions of reader having a bad family life; reader has selective mutism; reader is initially scared of Leona

Selective mutism can be caused by a variety of factors such as an anxiety disorder, self-esteem issues, speech problems, and etc.. Yours stemmed from. . . poor family relationships, to put it delicately.

Coming to Twisted Wonderland was like both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because you made it out

A curse because, well, YOU WERE TOSSED INTO ANOTHER WORLD WITH NO TIME TO PROCESS. So, of course, your anxiety levels spiked.

It took you a bit to figure out how to explain to Crowley that you struggled with selective mutism, and even when you did, he took it as you trying to say you were entirely mute. You supposed you could live with that. It would definitely help quell the intrusive questions and ignorant statement if not just by a bit.

It took a while, but you managed to get comfortable enough around Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts to talk. You had grown to see them as the family you never had. A family you chose.

You weren't sure whether to classify Grim as a younger brother or a son, but you figured that wasn't all that important of a distinction for you to make. He's your family and that's what counts.

When you did finally talk for the first time around this little group they were certainly shocked, Grim more so than the ghosts. However, they were patient and allowed you the time and space to explain (even if that was because the ghosts held Grim's mouth shut).

In the end, you all decided it was probably best that you keep the reality of your muteness a secret as people knowing could cause problems (and just be annoying for those too ignorant to understand or too curious to understand personal space).

When you first met Leona, it was when you stepped on his tail in the botanical garden. You bowed profusely as a way of saying sorry, but he either didn't get it or didn't care.

"D*mn Herbivore." He growled. "You think you can just step on my tail and get away with it? Not even gonna properly apologize for waking me with your foot digging into my tail?"

Clearly, he had not been paying attention at orientation. You were never too great with confrontation, quite frankly, it scared you, so you ran. You could hear his angry shouts from behind you as you booked it out of there, but you paid no mind to his words (not that you could even hear them with the blood pumping so violently in your ears from the adrenaline).

The next time you met him, like truly met and talked to him, was after the spelldrive game when you got nailed in the head with the disk.

When the unusual group of Ace, Deuce, Jack, Ruggie, Leona, and Grim came into the infirmary you were understandably wary. Afterall, Leona hadn't exactly made a stellar first impression.

However, your opinion shifted a bit when a little ball of energy and pure joy came bursting into the room to meet Leona. You had felt some sympathy for him after seeing his dream, you didn't have the best family life either, but you also weren't a massive jerk. A hint of worry grew in your stomach when you saw the small lion jump on Leona's bed and bounce on his stomach, but you froze when you saw the man's reaction.

He may have seemed harsh to most with the way he treated and talked to the child, but you could tell he was anything but. The way his eyes softened ever so slightly and his muscles relaxed. And, if you didn't know any better, you would've sworn you saw the corners of his lips twitch upwards just a bit.

The way someone treats their family can tell you a lot. The way Leona treated Cheka told you a lot.

You turned your attention away from Leona to sign something to Deuce (he learned a bit of sign language from his mom).

Leona would have cursed had Cheka not been right there. Great. Now he felt like an *ss.

Perhaps that guilt is what led him to so easily letting you stay in Savanaclaw during book 3.

He led you up to his room and told you how to fold out the couch (it was a futon). However, other than that, he didn't say much.

The only word you heard him speak the first night was a brief "sorry". He didn't elaborate on it, but you were fairly sure you knew what he was apologizing for.

At some point, you had made a habit of lightly tugging on your friends' sleeve when you needed their attention. Out of habit, you accidentally did this to Leona once. You didn't even notice until you saw the other Savanaclaw students' horrified faces. You whipped around to apologize to Leona, but he looked entirely unbothered.

"What'd ya need?"

On the last night when you needed to get Leona's help, you didn't exactly have the option of yelling, and banging pots and pans didn't exactly cross your mind. At that moment, you were just so tired and so stressed that all you did was silently tear up.

When he noticed your crying he momentarily froze. His eyes widened to the size of saucers and he just stared at you.

You really had a knack for making Leona feel scummy.

Before he knew it, he was getting up and trudging across the room.

You flinched.

Leona mentally bashed his head into a wall repeatedly.

"I'll help. . .just. . .cut it out with the water works." He handed you a tissue box and that was that.

You grew steadily closer over time, but he didn't hear your voice until around the end of book 6.

You had gotten back from STYX and your dorm was still in shambles, so you were left to stay at Savanaclaw. Other dorms were going to offer, but before they could even open their mouths, Leona sighed dramatically loud and announced that he guessed you'd have to stay at Savanaclaw sing you had absolutely no other options.

You trudged into his room together and watched as Grim immediately conked out on a plush chair next to the couch.

Leona was about to collapse on the bed (he was too tired to shower or even change clothes) when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his torso and a wet spot forming on his chest as your tears soaked through his shirt.

He was not cut out for these kinds of situations.

Despite this thought, he soon sighed and wrapped his arms around your back as well. The two of you stood there like that for what felt like an eternity before the silence was finally broken.

And not by him.

"I-I'm so glad you're safe." Your voice was hoarse from lack of use, and your words were hard to decipher as they came out as more of choked sobs.

A million questions ran through Leona's mind at that moment, but none of them left his lips. Instead, he simply replied: "Yeah. . .'m glad you are too."

His questions could wait until tomorrow.

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pac/pap: a letter from your future spouse

take what resonates leave what doesn't - nothing is 100% for you because these aren't personalized so please no angry comments or dms about what i am saying not being a good fit for you or that you "don't claim" just keep scrolling if that is the case. be kind, self reflect, and have fun.

last pac/pap: a love life check-up

return to the masterlist of pap/pac posts

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pile 1

i wonder what you’re doing right now. are you chasing a dream you’ve started to question? laughing with friends who see only parts of the real you? or are you like me - reflecting on the strange twists life keeps throwing your way, trying to make sense of how it all fits together?

i don’t have all the answers, but i know this: our story is unfolding exactly as it should. the setbacks, the detours, the heartbreak - it’s all shaping us, preparing us for the moment our lives finally align. even in the moments when you doubt that there is light ahead, know that i see it clearly. you’re the hope i keep reaching for, even in the dark.

i often imagine meeting you for the first time. maybe it’s ordinary - a passing glance, a casual conversation. but there will be something unshakable about it. something in the way your smile catches me off guard or the way your voice pulls me in. i’ll know it’s you. and even if i don’t say it right away, you’ll feel it too.

right now, i’m still figuring things out. life’s been throwing me in every direction, and i’m just holding on, trying to steer clear of what i can. the funny thing about fate is how it works even when you don’t see it coming. every choice i’ve made, every chance i’ve taken, has brought me closer to you.

when the time is right, i’ll be ready to step up for you, for us. i’m not the person i was yesterday, and i’m still becoming the person i want to be. there is one thing i know for sure: when we meet, i’ll choose you - again and again, every day, through every celebration and every challenge.

yes - there will be celebrations. i want to laugh with you until we can’t breathe, to celebrate to our wins, big and small, and to hold you close when the night winds down. i want to share your joy, your dreams, and every quiet moment in between. you’re the person i want standing next to me through it all.

until then, i’ll keep working on myself, learning from the lessons life throws my way, and holding space for you in my heart. when fate turns in our favor and our paths finally cross, i’ll be ready to give you my love, my devotion, and my whole damn soul.

yours,

future spouse

pile 2

i’ve been lost before. trapped in my own cycles, chasing goals that felt hollow or moving too fast to notice what i was really missing. there were times i poured my energy into the wrong things, thinking that success or control could fill the void. but life has a way of humbling you, of forcing you to stop, slow down, and face the truth: none of it matters without you.

you’re the one who will make me want to be better - not out of obligation, but because i’ll see in you everything i’ve been searching for. you’re my anchor and the softness in need in my life, the one who shows me that love isn’t about perfection or performance, but about presence. when i look at you, i’ll see everything i didn’t know i needed - warmth, patience, and a kind of beauty that radiates from the inside out.

i know i’ve taken the long road to get to you. sometimes i’ve been stuck, unsure of what to do next, afraid to leave what felt comfortable, even when i knew it wasn’t enough. but you’ll be the one who changes that. with you, there will be no fear, no hesitation - only a deep, undeniable pull that i can’t resist.

you have this power, don’t you? to nurture and create, to transform whatever you touch into something extraordinary. you’re a queen in every sense of the word - abundant, radiant, and endlessly giving. i want you to know this: you don’t always have to give. you don’t always have to hold everything together. with me, you can let go. you'll be able to lean on me. i’ll be the one to carry the weight when you’re tired, to remind you how much you’re worth, even when the world forgets.

i know i’ll mess up sometimes. i’ll stumble, i’ll falter, and i’ll get caught in my own head. but i promise i’ll never stop trying. i’ll never stop choosing you. even in the moments when it feels like we’re standing still, i’ll be there, holding your hand, reminding you that we’re exactly where we’re meant to be.

there’s no moving on from you. no walking away, no running from the love i know we’ll have. you’re the one i’ll keep coming back to, again and again, because you’re home. and when we’re together, i’ll spend the rest of my days showing you just how much you mean to me.

my heart is your's,

future spouse

pile 3

if you’ve felt a restless pull in your heart, know that i feel it too. i’m not the kind of man who sits still for long - i’ve always chased what makes me feel alive, even when i didn’t fully understand what i was after. somewhere along the way, i realized what i’ve been searching for is you.

you’re the spark in the distance, the promise of something more. i can feel your energy even now, calling me to move, to grow, to become the man you deserve. i’m not perfect—sometimes i charge ahead too fast, speak before i think, or get caught up in chasing every wild idea that crosses my mind. but one thing i know for sure: when i meet you, everything will fall into focus.

you’re the kind of person who could make a man rethink everything. your passion, your curiosity, your fire - i want to match it and watch us both burn brighter together. with you, every day will feel like an adventure, every moment full of discovery. i want to know your mind, your dreams, and your wildest ideas. i want to be the one who makes you laugh so hard you forget to breathe and who listens when you need to share the thoughts you’ve never spoken aloud.

but i also want you to know this: i’ll be the one who gives you space when you need it. life isn’t always about the chase; sometimes, it’s about the stillness. when the world gets too loud, when the fire feels like it’s burning too hot, i’ll be there to remind you to rest. i’ll be your calm in the chaos, your quiet in the storm.

i know we’ll make mistakes - together and apart. we’ll say the wrong things, take the wrong steps, and sometimes, we’ll need time to figure it all out. but isn’t that part of the beauty? love isn’t about perfection; it’s about showing up, learning, and growing side by side.

i can’t wait to see where life takes us, to chase the wild unknown with you by my side. you make me want to dream bigger, run faster, and still, somehow, savor every single moment. i’m ready to throw myself into this with you, no hesitation, no regrets.

until we meet, i’ll keep searching, learning, and preparing for the day when i get to call you mine.

yours always,

your future spouse

[httpknjoon]

say goodnight and go | myg

plot | that time when everyone seemed to be doing something on valentine's day and the popstar and her bassist have all the time with their single asses.

w.c | 3.3k

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | enemies to lovers, popstar x bassist, fluff, angst

note | wrote this last-minute today, just something short n sweet for valentines. enjoy!

main masterlist | series masterlist | want to request?

DAY 93: SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA

Your fans from South Korea are one of your most active fanbases, always showering you with praises and support through social media. You even heard one of your songs becoming a trend on their online platforms, with celebrities and big local personalities doing it. So to show appreciation for them, you and your management decided to stay in the country for a longer amount of days.

So far, you have done your back-to-back concerts, variety show appearances, and media interviews, making sure that your fans will get a lot of content. You also got to do some shopping in Myeongdong with Cal and Paul in your first two days in the country since you know how great everyone's skincare products are.

"Are you going out?"

It's your last day before you leave for another country tomorrow. You sat on the nook near the big window of your hotel room, overviewing the busy streets of Seoul, when Cal came in and checked on you.

"I would love to, but I don't like to see couples eating each others' faces on the street." you shuddered in exaggerated disgust, Cal laughed in response.

Tearing your eyes off the scene, you see your assistant all dressed up. From her usual jeans and dark-colored hoodie, she wore and pastel green coat dress and white boots. She also wore white fuzzy gloves, tights, and a scarf for the winter weather outside. Her hair is also styled in soft waves.

"You are so, so pretty." you smiled as she gave you a twirl. "Where are you and your fiance heading?"

She looks up, recalling her agenda for the day, "We're going to Nami Island, I think. I don't really know. Art planned the whole thing."

"Sounds nice."

You tried to smile before looking back to the window. A sense of heaviness sits on your chest as you hug your knees closer to your body, resting your chin on it. The feeling you have been trying to avoid today, Valentine's Day, cannot help but revive itself in your system. But it has been looming over you for a while now, especially in Seoul, where there are a lot of lovely, cute couples everywhere.

"You okay?" Cal asked, sensing your aura shifting.

"I am, I am!" You turned to look at her again, smiling to reassure her. "Now, go on and enjoy that date. We know Art has a low tolerance for waiting."

She chuckled before giving you a quick hug that you know means well. As soon as the door closed, you were back staring outside the glass. You watched the cars move in different directions, and people walked around places. You watched almost twenty-two stories over them, but your mood cannot keep up and remained low ever since you woke up today.

For the first time in years, you are alone in this day of romance. You tried to stay optimistic about it, thinking that you should be grateful you got out of that toxic on-and-off relationship. But man, wouldn't it be nice to be with someone in this cold, cuddly weather outside?

You sighed, combing your fingers through your unstyled hair, before getting up to your bed. You thought of just taking advantage of your free time to rest in the midst of your ongoing world tour.

"I don't think I can bring this with me, Juwon."

Yoongi let out a sheepish chuckle while holding a brown bag of Tupperware filled with kimchi, braised potatoes, lettuce, rice, and marinated uncooked bulgogi. His cousin laughed.

"Not my problem, man. Mom saw one of your videos online and said you looked thinner. She wanted to make sure you're eating a lot, especially now you're in the country."

It has been more than a decade since Yoongi visited his birth country. Unlike his parents who come and go to South Korea yearly, he never got to visit since he moved to LA. When his mother learned that you would be taking your tour to Seoul, she called up every family member to let them know Yoongi was coming. Everyone was delighted to see him after a long time. His grandma even handed him an envelope money, just like when he was a little kid. Yoongi tried to decline it shyly, but his heart warmed when she told him to keep it as it was for all the Lunar New Year he missed.

"She really wanted to see you, but she and Dad are celebrating their anniversary in the UK right now," Juwon told him while they sat in one of the cafes just on the outskirts of Seoul. "She always told everyone how her nephew is a celebrity in the US."

Yoongi laughed, cheeks warming up, "I'm not a celebrity. I'm a bassist for one."

"Eh, it's the same." his cousin shrugged, making both of them laugh. "You know, a lot of YN's fans here think you two are dating."

Yoongi's jaw tenses at the mention of you. Considering that you two are barely talking right now, being tangled in such gossip with you is a little startling for him.

Juwon continued, "Like, I would scroll on social media and I would see edits of you on stage made by your fans here. There are talks about her performances and gimmicks with you on online forums."

Yoongi knows. His father even asked him once about his relationship status with you during the holidays. When he was on his way to the cafe, a young student recognized and asked him if you two are together after asking for a selfie. And he answered the same thing.

"We're not dating. I'm just her bassist."

Juwon seemed to not really care about Yoongi's relationship status with you, just wanting to share the growing popularity of the topic. They went on talking about life and everything big happening to them. Yoongi appreciated his cousin not mentioning his failed engagement or asking him personal questions about you (since that is something other people do). A couple of hours later, Juwon had to go.

"I'm taking the missus out. So, I really should go," he explained, smiling sheepishly.

Yoongi smiled before they shared a quick hug, "Of course. I'll try to visit again after the tour so I can meet everyone."

It was only afternoon and Yoongi was already on his way back to the hotel. Love is everywhere, he can feel, hear, see, and even taste it with how sweet the heart-shaped candies he sees from the street vendors. On the bus, he cannot help but feel outcasted by how everyone comes and goes in two while he sits alone in the farthest seat. He tried not to be a bitter hater about today's event. But how can he be single right now and there are middle-schoolers holding hands in front of him?

He rolled his eyes as he walked past the young couple who was walking too slow for his liking. Just a few distance from the hotel, he stopped when he got a call from someone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Yoongi. Are you in the hotel right now?" Art, who's on the other line, asked.

Yoongi continued walking, "Yeah, just arrived. Why?"

Today is meant to be their free day before flying to Thailand tomorrow. He recalls any possible reason why the tour manager would call him today.

"Yeah, uhm, can you check on YN? Callie has been trying to contact her, but she's not answering any texts or calls. She just wants to know how she's doing."

His heart dropped, making him pause near the elevators. He has not really talked with you alone these past few days. You two barely had conversations after that little argument the week after the holiday break.

Yoongi scratched his brow, "Uhm, how about Noah or Akio?"

"They are still on their way to visit Busan. Fred is out of town too," he replied.

Knowing there were no other choices, his shoulder slumped like the whole world fell on it, "Okay, I'll check on her."

"Okay, thank you, Yoongi!" Art sighed in relief. Yoongi heard Cal's relief in the background, thanking him too, "Thanks, Yoongi! Please tell her to text me back."

After saying where your room is, the call ended. Why can't you answer the calls? Yoongi tried contacting you himself when he got in the elevator. Although he knows that you might ignore him, he still tries just to avoid knocking on your door again. But you did not answer. So he got to the floor higher than his and immediately looked for your room.

He felt his heart beating faster when he stopped in front of Room 2202. Chewing on his lip, he raised his finger before the doorbell. He wished he had the same determination when he knocked on your door months ago. He held his breath when he clicked it.

But he got no response. It took him three more tries before hearing footsteps inside and by that time, he was more worried than nervous.

"What— Yoongi?"

Instantly recognizing the person who interrupted your movie marathon, your creased forehead softened up as your shoulders slowly tensed down. Yoongi didn't speak immediately, causing you to just stand there while his eyes scanned your face with lines forming between his brows. You felt like shrinking again under his gaze, wondering if other people feel the same way when your bassist looks at them.

"Were you crying?" he asked since he quickly took notice of your tear-stained cheeks, puffy eyes, and lips.

When you look away, Yoongi can read the embarrassment on your face. He thought you looked cute even though you just cried, but still he was worried by what was the reason behind it. But he didn't want to ask, to cross the line like you said that night. So he didn't.

Instead, he cleared his throat, "Art called me. He said you—"

To see you open the door wider as if you are inviting him to come in is a surprise to him. Your eyes meet, communicating with no verbal words in between. But when your sight starts moving from his eyes to his nose then to his lips. Something in your stomach twists. Before anything happened, you spoke, moving your eyes back up.

"Please, just come in. Someone might see us in the hallway."

Always careful. Yoongi stepped in with the same brown bag in his hand. He waited for you to close the door before speaking up again.

"Art called me and he wanted me to check on you. Cal is worried you were not answering her calls."

Your lips gaped as you forgot where your phone was. Since you were left alone hours ago, you spent your time watching rom-com movies, including the one you were just crying about before Yoongi knocked.

"Wait, I'll look for it."

Yoongi watched you rush to your messy bed. He still has not moved from the same spot near the door, like his feet were nailed to the ground. Not less than a minute later, you came back with your phone in hand.

"Just texted her back. I was on DND since last night, I didn't notice," you explained and why were you explaining to him? You don't know.

He didn't say anything and just looked at you blankly. What was to say anyway? You noticed him not really speaking much when you're around. You mean, Yoongi does not really speak a lot, but you observed how quieter he got when the holiday break ended. The eye contact lessened and so did the small bickering you two do in every rehearsal. It feels wrong to annoy you like before again. There are so many times you want to, but you just can't.

You were chewing on your lower lip unconsciously while looking down at the paper bag in his hand, and could not bring yourself to look up. Yoongi silently wondered what was going on inside your creative head.

"What's that?" you broke the silence, referring to the bag.

"Oh... uhm... it's food from my aunt," he replied, lifting the bag. He pulled out one of the Tupperware. "She wanted me to eat more, said I'm getting thinner."

You don't know why, but that made you chuckle. Yoongi smiled upon hearing your little laugh.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, even though it can be a risk over the line you spoke about before.

But instead of reminding him about that stupid line, you replied, "Ice cream is food, right?"

Yoongi clicked his tongue, shaking his head like you were a great disappointment. He pulled out each Tupperware one by one and placed it on the nearby marble counter.

"Have you had these foods before?" he asked and you simply shook your head. "Then, you're going to have them now."

Yoongi didn't care if he crossed that imaginary line because his mom would kill him if he didn't make you eat lunch. Heading to your kitchenette, he looked for a pan and turned on the stove.

"I will just cook the meat. Then, we'll eat this with rice and the side dishes." he explained while putting the meat on the hot surface.

"What... What should I do? Should I help? Do I have to do anything?" you asked, heavily confused.

Yoongi chuckled at your innocent questions, "You can just watch, YN."

And you did while being intrigued and amused at the same time by the unexpected scenario. Just twenty minutes ago, you were crying over Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler. But now, you have your bassist cooking before you.

Yoongi cooked all of the meat since he could not really bring it with him tomorrow. He will make sure to eat them all if you do not enjoy it anyway. There are no plates in the hotel room, so you two had to improvise and use the lids of the Tupperware as plates. It was also a relief that his aunt included chopsticks in the bag.

He noticed how your eyes lit up as he explained the side dishes, particularly the potatoes. He picked one and placed it on your 'plate'. You hummed as you tasted the sweetness on your tongue.

"I love this. So much better than room service!"

He smiled before getting you some kimchi on your plate too. That's when your expression dropped, he noticed.

"It's kimchi. Don't worry, it's good."

"What does it taste like? And how should I eat it?" you asked, staring at the very red dish.

"It's spicy and sour. It can be sweet too. Depends on who made it. But my aunt always preferred it spicier." he explained before eating some. Yeah, it's spicy. "Do you eat spicy food?"

"I like spicy foods, but this one looks really spicy. It's very red."

He laughed, "It's good. Taste it! You can eat it alone, with rice, or meat. Like this."

Yoongi pulled his chair next to yours, simply to make you a lettuce wrap like in a local Korean barbecue place. He didn't sit too close, but sensing his familiar scent once again made your heart jump as you watched him make you a lettuce wrap.

"Here. Say 'ah'." Yoongi opened his mouth demonstrating.

You tried not to smile, your head messing with you again, as you followed his order. He helped you with the lettuce wrap. Immediately after chewing it, there's a burst of flavor in your mouth. The kimchi is spicy, sour, and maybe a little salty. But you liked it.

Yoongi smiled when he saw you nodding your head, "See? It's great, right? You should really listen to me more."

You glared at him before picking up your chopsticks to eat. Eating in comfortable silence, Yoongi quietly observed how you enjoyed the meal he brought, specifically the kimchi. He was pleased to see you munching on the dishes.

"Slow down on the kimchi." he teased you at one point, but you just scrunched your nose at him.

"I should have added matching couple-shirts in my merch during the concert. I would have earned millions here."

After having your late lunch, you and Yoongi found yourselves in the same nook you were sitting at earlier today. You two sat on each corner, looking down on the noisy and busy city moving below. It felt like the events after the afterparty were forgotten for the meantime as you two chatted about 50 First Dates, the movie you were crying about, and how he preferred The Wedding Singer more. There was a debate for a whole twenty minutes about it and you were sure Yoongi just let you win, so you can move to another topic.

"Yeah, on my way here earlier, every couple who will get on the bus wears the same thing. I looked like a sore thumb." he quipped, earning another laugh from you while you took another bite of kimchi.

The side dish was almost completely consumed by you alone, much to Yoongi's surprise.

"I told you to slow down on the kimchi." he teased you again.

"But it's good. Tell your aunt it's good, send her flowers for me," you suggested.

He scoffed, "Oh, my aunt would love hearing that and will probably send you five more Tupperware of this."

"Well, sign me up. I wouldn't mind having stock." you grinned before taking the last piece of radish.

He shook his head, laughing, "And you finished it all."

You carefully placed the empty Tupperware in front of you, raising both of your hands like you were a suspect caught, "Not guilty at all."

"She would really love you." he chuckled, leaning back on the wall of the nook.

"Well, that just means she has a very great taste." you quipped, looking outside.

Mirroring Yoongi, you rested your back on the wall while still looking outside. In contrast to your full and contented stomach, your heart feels light at someone's unexpected appearance in your hotel room. You were so ready to watch movies all day and maybe call for room service for food. A small smile forms on your lips.

Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi feels the same thing. Mainly, he was happy the food his aunt made did not go to waste and he got to eat it with someone, who obviously enjoyed it. He tried not to chuckle when he saw a spot of the red sauce near your lips. Before he could even stop himself, his thumb gently wiped it off your face.

You held your breath at the sudden touch with your eyes flickering to meet his. He was frozen on the spot, still in the leaned-in position. For a second, the city noise is drawn out. Until he pulled back and you noticed his cheeks have a very slight tint of red.

"Uhm... there was sauce." he mumbled.

"Hmm..." you awkwardly responded looking away.

Silence joined the room again and Yoongi felt like he had gone past the line already. He slapped his head mentally with what he did. The silence reminded him of a scenario that happened at the end of last year. As he feels it getting into him, he gets up.

"I-I should go. We have an early flight tomorrow."

You looked back at him and were always easy to read for him. But, he didn't want to assume that you wanted him to stay based on your eyes alone. But you did, you really did. Maybe for a companion for tonight? You cannot tell, but you enjoyed this casual conversation with him. You can just hope he did too.

"Okay," you replied, almost a whisper.

You watched him gather the Tupperware back into the paper bag, not moving an inch in the nook. You waited for him to look back at you before he leaves, but he was too focused on the fucking Tupperware. So, you just turned your head outside, letting out a sigh.

And just when Yoongi is about to turn the doorknob, he takes one last look at you. His shoulders depleted, seeing you alone while watching the city outside.

"YN?" he called your name and he was unsure if he saw a glimmer of something in your eyes when you turned around. "Good night."

You forced a smile on your lips, "Thank you, Yoongi. Good night."

note | a little preview for the tour's second leg too...

SERIES TAGLIST

kindly check out my taglist rules on my pinned post :)

@busanbby-jjk @jimingirl95 @treacherqus @jajabro @marnz1990 @ktownshizzle @notarshia @m00njinnie @thelilbutifulthings @tarahardcore @livisdoingfine @jungshaking @eridanus-lynx @enthralled-bandit @goodnight-n-go-home @ronyiboniyy @jimeg629 @lveegsoi @madussthoughts

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

[angelfishe]

#𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Vil schoinet x reader

Before you were teleported into NRC, you were a writer as well a popular illustrator. You decide to upload one of your most Popular works at twisted wonderland about a love story with a villain. Eventually it blew up in the media, changing the standard of how the media view villains. As well changing his life view forever.

( this is so rush, I'm so sorry )

You never have expected to be teleported into a world of magic it seems to be fictional but it's real, sadly you didn't get any abilities but on the bright side you don't have any deadlines to worry about I'm pretty much sure your coworkers are dealing with your story publishing.

Recently you got bored and decided to re write one of your most popular works and publish it into the media of this world, believing it wouldn't change anything.

The next few days your work has taken over the world, it gotten very popular due to having a unique setting and plot.

One thing you realize about this world is that they glorilize the heroine over the villain which is something you're not surprised because this is literally Disney. Why would they choose the innocent petite character when they could have the dark strong and hot villain. But still back in your world many would still simp for the villains in Disney.

It has taken the world by storm changing people how they view villains, finally finding the dark mysterious character attractive instead of the pure and innocent character stealing the spotlight from them.

Meanwhile vil realizes that his magicam account has been getting more likes than ever and saying that he looks like the male lead in your manhwa, I mean you were inspired to change their appearance to look exactly like vil because I mean look at him.

Vil decided to check the manhwa and insteadly falls inlove, on how they make the villain into the male lead as well a reasonable and loveable character, everyone is in love with him.

What part that makes him fall In love is because of how he finally sees the character staying till the end of the show getting the happily ever after they finally craved.

Soon many stories start the villain as its shining star pops out in a few weeks even though there are many short animations about the series, vil got the entire film study club to be involved and recreate one of his favorite scenes in the series.

It changed his whole world even the entire world on their views towards the villains, he wants to meet the author the bad part is he's unable to know because the author/ you is anonymous always keeping their private life close towards them never showing it towards the public.

But you may have left a slip up at that point you as being the author, during lunch you were looking panels on one of the scenes in the newest episode in the manhwa and epel was sitting right beside you surprisingly he was allowed due to vil being in a good mood.

Epel look over your shoulder and ask what you were doing while believing it was a normal question saying about how you were looking at panels for your manhwa, epel look at it and instantly recognize the character well because vil wouldn't stop rambling about it.

And in cue rook decided to drop by and also have a look at the panel he immediately looked at epel with a confused on what to do meanwhile you were still minding your business unaware of what's happening in both of the pomifiore students.

One day epel told you to come to pomifiore because he said he's housewarden wants to meet you. And low and behold vil is waiting sitting across a couch with teas and sweets on the table.

When you took a seat at the couch across from him he asked as If you were the author towards the popular manhwa and you confirmed it believing it's nothing special.

Vil ask why would you prefer the villain over the hero and you gave your reason was due to them being overshadowed, as well misunderstood as being a character. As a writer your job is to fully understand a person's character even tho they commit questionable things. You have to understand a person to write them perfectly.

And he was stunt and then he sends you a smile and says he needs your help about your manhwa as well saying both of you are gonna get along.

[thistleation]

I feel like there's some form of misunderstanding happening here, either on what the Hays code was, what OP was talking about, or likely both, but also potentially on the nature of art criticism.

So like, first off, the Hays code was largely self-censorship by the film industry, because actual government censorship (which was looming on the horizon) would've been even worse.

But probably more importantly, there is the fact that the Hays code reduced complex engagement with art down to blunt rules that can be used for making things palatable but cannot meaningfully engage with either art or ethics.

So like, to take an example and make this more concrete, we could take a hypothetical hays code-like rule that says "fascism in stories should always be punished."

Now, with an individual work, you can criticize it along the lines of "I think this story glorifies fascism and it's trash," and that can be a perfectly valid take. But if you ban all stories where fascists don't get punished, you immediately also remove the opportunity to tell the very real historical stories about fascism that didn't see an immediate repercussion for the perpetrators, and so you destroy a lot of the ability for art to have a meaningful role in the conversation about it.

And it might not be censorship since you yourself aren't the government, but if you're saying "depicting [X] in art without the perpetrator being punished for it is always morally objectionable and therefore wrong," you are kind of saying "if the government banned instances of these, I would like that," and while you're not doing censorship, you are kinda arguing in favor of it.

Circling back to my example, again, on individual work, you can (and often should) absolutely criticize. You also need to be prepared for your criticism to not always be 100% correct. You might for example argue "this work glorifies fascism," while someone else goes "no it doesn't, it reads more like a dark satire to me, and any supposed 'rewards' for fascism in the narrative are hollow and horrifying," and then you might counter "well, if that was the work's intention, then I feel it's poorly executed." And then you can both go more deeply into the nitty and gritty of it, and maybe you never fully resolve it, but you both staunchly agree that fascism is wrong and this entire exercise only affirms that, and with any luck you both only deepened your understanding of the subject matter by going into detail and hearing contrasting viewpoints.

That's how art engages with the larger social and ethical conversation, even when the work in question might not be that good and have deep flaws to it.

And again, all that kind of critique and dissection is totally fair game.

No one said you had to condone everything every artist ever wrote, I'm not sure where you'd have gotten that, but it's definitely not what OP was talking about.

So again, "I have serious issues with how this work handles [X]" is perfectly reasonable, but "I think depicting [X] in fiction is always morally wrong," is arguing for the side that will try to censor or otherwise silence artistic expression.

now say it with me: authors/artists dont owe you moral purity. an author/artist job is not to hold you by the hand & tell you exactly what is Good™ & what is Bad™. you should be able to think for yourself

[teambyler]

The Strange Postponement of Mike and Will's relationship

If Mike and Will had remained as close as they were in Season 2 in the subsequent seasons, the "are they gay?" rumors absolutely would have spread among the General Audience, as they entered their official teen/dating/sexual awakening years.

There have been peculiar writing choices that seem to have no other explanation but to postpone romantic rumors about these two.

The show does it's damnedest to keep these best-friends-since-kindergarten apart once they enter puberty. The only interaction that possibly hints at romance in Season 3 is their virtual double date with Lumax where Mike is concerned for Will's well-being one time. This was necessary to reestablish their "good friendness" at the start of the season to set-up their breakup during the Rain Fight.

Then, of course, the Rain Fight happens. Mike says "It's not my fault you don't like girls." They effectively "break up."

But then there is the strange, interesting choice that there is never a resolution of the Rain Fight. The apology for ignoring Will's D&D game comes from Lucas instead of Mike:

Will had his blow-up with MIKE, not Lucas! And we know that Mike absolutely was DRIVEN to apologize to Will, but we don't see it. Maybe he actually did, but it was offscreen. But why not have it ON screen? Why not clear the air on whether Mike thought Will was gay and was being homophobic to Will? Why not clarify THEN that Mike is a straight ally who supports his gay best friend, setting things up for Will to have a coming-out arc where he finds a love interest who is not Mike?

Instead, the writers made sure they had NO conversations for nearly all the rest of the season. They made sure Mike was focused on trying to repair things with El and blurting out "I love her." These two things together also kept the Gay Rumors(TM) in check.

Season 4 then dramatizes how they'd GROWN APART -- specifically, how they don't seem to have stayed in touch and Mike seems to be ignoring Will.

What a strange thing for the writers to do! Mike and Will had been on good terms. That's because it was the start-of-season set-up for an ARC where they become close again.

Alright, so they soon repair things. But for what?

The Will Counseling Hour:

They literally have no conversations with each other where Will isn't comforting Mike and/or talking about El. To the extent that the GA was annoyed that Mike was "useless" and the California plotline was a "waste of time."

(Either the Duffers were bad writers or had a reason to spend so much time on the California plot. Hmm...)

The show was putting Byler in a holding pattern. The show established that Mike and Will were close again, but with a "beard" on Mike: his relationship with El. Will's attempt to talk about anything ELSE -- like playing Nintendo and D&D -- was ignored as Mike worried about El.

The Will Counseling Hour ends only with their very LAST conversation of season 4, when Will shares that he can still feel Vecna. Mike becomes the Counselor: he resolves that they will beat Vecna. The bringing of these two together, along with signs that Mike and El are drifting apart, lays the trajectory for Season 5.

Season 5 will be the first season with Unfiltered Byler(TM) since Season 2.

EVERYTHING that kept the GA from thinking about the possibility of Byler, (1) how young they were in Season 2, (2) their being kept artificially apart and (3) Mike's focus on his relationship with El, will have fallen away.

For the first time since Season 2, the A Plot and Mike and Will being close ("a team") will mesh.

Meanwhile, we'll get Season 2 Mike because Will will also be the center of the story and IN DANGER. It's impossible to imagine Mike being his aloof start-of-Season-4 self. Add to all this Season 4 hormones: we're likely to see the heart-eyes romantic, Will-Voice-speaking boy in love we Bylers see in the 2nd half of Season 4.

And there's the Painting Lie, which the Duffers have told Finn Wolfhard will "pay off in the end." Mike WILL KNOW Will loves him, and loved him so much as to sacrifice himself for him.

Even if one doesn't accept Byler, one can't deny that there has to be a DIRECT RECKONING over whether Mike returns Will's feelings.

The entire structure of how the show has presented their relationship is building up toward this. The Strange Postponement of Byler had a purpose.

-teambyler

EDIT: You might enjoy my s5 speculations in "How the Duffers likely will make the general audience AWARE of Byler and CHEER for Byler" =D

[pennyellee]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡?

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? | 𝐌𝐘𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔 (𝐌) pairings: producer!min yoongi x popgirlie f!reader genre: romance, smut, slight porn with plot, friends to lovers au word count: 6K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

prompt: "There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out." summary: "You Big Enough?" - when an old flame resurfaced, rumours spiralled, and suddenly, every lingering glance and every touch between you seemed to carry weight. It had always been just music, just friendship—hadn’t it? No. You always had the vibe of  'will they, won't they.' This has become bigger than the music. Tension crackled, boundaries blurred, and there was this thing that Yoongi made sure you knew well besides that he was big enough. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, explicit language, themes of subtle (and not-so-subtle) possessiveness, teasing, sexual activity, rough sex, fingering (f receiving), miscommunication driving emotional conflict, dirty talk, raw fucking (stay safe!) choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes, creampie, fleeting nipple play, very subtle dominance/submission dynamics, implied size kink ... (as per usual, I'll add some if needed)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, sexual activity, sex without protection, choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes.

a/n: yall, I had this idea like a month ago and I wrote the initial part but lowkey forgot that it's in my drafts so I finished it yesterday (might come later to edit, pls excuse me im working overtime these days) and amazing and spectacular @chaoticpuff17 managed to read it so you can have it as a lil Valentine's day treat. So here is something simple, smutty, and cute for ya. Happy Valentine to all of you who celebrate, love you my little fairies! ♥

masterlist

Your hands hovered above the keys and your brain could not figure out what to press to make it sound as magical as you want. Your mind searched for the perfect melody for the bridge of her latest song—

"Try F-sharp minor," Yoongi suggested, his voice low and even. The studio is a second home for you. Always have been and dear Min Yoongi was as much a refuge as the soundproof walls and softly humming equipment.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Perfect—" There was a warmth in his gaze, one that lingered a second too long.

"How do you always know, Yoongi-ah?"

"It's my job," he said simply, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. Your heart fluttered with a familiar yet unwelcome sensation. But you quickly shook it off, focusing on the music in front of her.

"I'm lucky to have you, then," you murmured.

Yoongi didn't respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was quieter than before.

"I'd say I'm the lucky one."

Before you could process what he meant, your phone buzzed, breaking the spell. You picked it up, seeing a message from your lifelong bestie, Jimin-ah.

Emergency. Coming over.

You frown but you are happy to not indulge in something you don't have the answers to. "Jimin-ah is on his way. Guess I'll have to call it a night."

Yoongi's expression was unreadable, but he nodded, knowing that it must be something important if you’re packing your stuff so quickly. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"You need to fucking hear this," he says, her voice brimming with urgency when he bursts into the apartment like a whirlwind, his dark glossy hair bouncing as he flops onto the couch.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon?"

You hand him a glass of red wine and sit across from him.

"What now? Did he suddenly reappear after he ghosted me?"

Jimin winces.

"Actually, yeah. And I finally found out why he did so."

Your stomach drops. You liked that man when you went out, but the message you left a good amount of time ago went unanswered for an even longer period of time.

"Why?"

He hesitates, his eyes darting around the room. Finally, he leans forward, lowering his voice. "Everyone thinks you and Yoongi are… you know."

You blink.

"What?" you say, playing dumb.

"You knooowww…—

"—that."

He said through gritted teeth, trying to make you understand, but your brain was not cooperating.

"No, I dooooon't know that" You mimicked him, and he only stared dead serious at your stupidity.

"They think you've been doing it," he says bluntly. "Apparently, it's some open secret in the industry. Like, 'Oh, Y/N and Yoongi? Of course, they're a thing.'"

Your jaw drops. No way. No fucking way.

"That's insane. We're not… we're not like that."

"You sure about that buttercup?" Jimin raises an eyebrow and you merely nod.

"Cuz', he's not exactly denying it. And honestly, can you blame people for assuming? You've written two albums together, spent countless hours locked in the studio, and the way he looks at you…" he trails off, shaking his head.

"There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out."

Your cheeks burn.

"That's ridiculous. Yoongi and I are friends. Just friends."

"Hmm, I don't know hun,—"

He was right. You weren't buying it. Not entirely.

But you weren't ready to admit that out loud—not yet, anyway. Your mind races. You replay every moment you've spent together, every lingering glance and fleeting touch.

Yoongi and you?

It was absurd, wasn't it?

Right?

Jimin watched you carefully, his perfectly shaped brows raised in amusement. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"No," you scoffed, but your voice lacked conviction.

Jimin smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Look, babe, I wouldn't bring this up if I didn't think it was something you should actually think about. People don't just make this kind of shit up for no reason."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I just—why wouldn't he deny it?"

"That's what you need to figure out." Jimin gave you a pointed look. "You trust him, don't you?"

You hesitated. That was the problem, wasn't it? You trusted Yoongi more than anyone. He had been your anchor in the storm, your safe space when everything else felt uncertain.

But this—this was different.

The way he looked at you.

The way he always knew exactly what you needed.

You replayed every moment with Yoongi in your mind, combing through the memories with a fine-toothed scepticism, looking for anything—anything—that could have fed these rumours. The way he watched you while you worked in the dance studio, the quiet way he always made sure you had water before long sessions, the casual intimacy in the way he touched you—light, fleeting, like a habit neither of you had ever questioned.

Had you been blind this whole time?

Jimin's voice snapped you back to reality.

"Look, I think you need to talk to him. Like, actually talk to him."

You swallowed hard.

Talking to Min Yoongi had never been difficult before. But this? This felt dangerous.

The next evening, you stepped into the dimly lit studio, and the question sat on the tip of your tongue like a loaded gun.

Yoongi was already there, as always. The warm amber glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across his sharp features, catching on the soft strands of dark hair that fell over his eyes. His fingers rested idly on the soundboard, a picture of quiet focus—until he looked up at you.

His gaze, steady and unreadable, held you captive.

"You're late," he murmured, but there was no accusation in his tone—just that familiar, quiet warmth.

You swallowed. "Got caught up with Jimin last night, forgot to set a reminder."

At that, something flickered across his face—too quick to name, gone before you could hold onto it. "Ah."

Silence stretched between you, thick with something you weren't ready to name. But you hadn't come here to tiptoe around things anymore.

So you stepped forward, pressing a hand against the cool surface of the mixing console, grounding yourself, only now taking his appearance in.

"I played with the structure a little last night after you went home and—" he broke the silence first, but you knew he sensed the sudden awkwardness in your posture, your whole being.

"Is something the matter, sleepyhead?"

"Nope, nothing at all."

You quickly retorted, trying to look anywhere else but his gorgeous face.

Yoongi's eyes, however, never wavered. They held a depth that made it impossible for you to escape his gaze. You had always known how intense he could be, but now, in the stillness of the studio, it felt almost intimate, the air thick with unspoken words that seemed to pulse around you like a melody begging to be heard.

He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting casually on the desk, but his posture was all focus—intent, almost as if he was waiting for you to unravel yourself.

"Are you sure about that?" His voice was lower now, a gentle challenge. He was pulling at the thread, testing the tension between you.

Your stomach twisted. This was the moment, wasn't it?

"I'm fine, Yoongi, just had a lot of wine last night," you said again, but your voice betrayed you. It cracked, ever so slightly, and you couldn't mask the uncertainty in it.

The silence between you thickened, and it felt like the space in the room had shrunk, until it was just you, him, and the suffocating pressure of the question you both knew was lingering.

He didn't look away, not even when you avoided his gaze, staring down at the soundboard like it could offer you some kind of escape. He moved to the electronic piano while lifting a brow at you.

"So as I said, I played with the structure—"

You watched him, leaning at the piano, his fingers poised just above the keys, waiting for him to break the silence again, to give you something more. But you didn't want more from him—not in the way you wanted it. Not yet.

Instead, you played a dangerous game, one of subtle manipulation, testing him, probing for the truth behind his unreadable expressions.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon, right?" You interrupt him, raising your voice just a little.

The name hung in the air between you, deliberately chosen, carefully placed like a baited hook.

Yoongi's fingers stilled for the briefest of moments. But it was enough. Just enough for you to notice. His posture shifted ever so slightly, his shoulders stiffening imperceptibly.

You bit back a smile, inwardly satisfied at his subtle reaction.

"I bumped into him yesterday on my way home. He... he actually asked me out on a date again. Said he lost his phone and had to get a new phone number, didn't remember mine."

A lie.

The words left your mouth so easily, like a lie you had rehearsed in front of the mirror, and yet your heart pounded with anticipation. You weren't expecting much. Just a flicker of jealousy, a crack in the calm façade he always wore. So your interrogation of his, perhaps, hidden feelings isn't unprovoked.

Yoongi didn't immediately respond. His fingers finally touched the keys, the faintest chord ringing through the room, but his eyes remained fixed on the piano.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the soft melody playing between you, the rhythm of his fingers meeting the ivories almost too steady.

And then, finally, he spoke. His voice was low, flat. "Is that so?"

Your breath caught. That was it?

You frowned, staring at him from across the room, searching for a reaction. Anything. But his expression was as controlled as ever. His calm demeanour was unshakable.

No way.

You leaned forward, the pressure of the lie beginning to claw at your insides. "Yeah, he asked me. He was actually pretty... persistent about it. He was sorry I thought he ghosted me." You let the words hang, trailing off deliberately, watching his reaction closely.

But Yoongi only nodded, his eyes focused on the keys.

"I see."

A small flame of frustration ignited in your chest. Was he really this indifferent? Was he truly going to let this lie slide without a hint of a reaction?

You stood up abruptly, unable to hold the pretense any longer. You could feel your temper rising, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You fucking see?!" Yoongi's fingers paused mid-chord as the tension in your voice snapped through the room. You busted out your feelings. Well, this was doomed from the start.

You stepped forward, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and something else—something raw that you hadn't been prepared to face. "You don't even care, do you? You don't care that everyone is saying we're fucking, that they think we're—" You cut yourself off, almost choking on the words. You couldn't bear to say them aloud, but you needed to know, needed to push him.

His gaze met yours, and in that instant, you knew he hadn't been indifferent. He'd been waiting. Waiting for you to unravel yourself, for you to show your cards. His eyes, dark and unreadable, pinned you in place.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" His voice was cold now, controlled, with an edge that made your skin prickle. The air in the room thickened, turning heavy with the weight of his words.

"Well, perchance?!—" You gesture rapidly.

"You run around not denying it Yoongi,—?!"

The calm, controlled exterior he wore was unravelling, and you weren't sure if you liked the version of him that was emerging—or if it terrified you.

He stood up, slowly, deliberately. The sudden motion caused a cold shiver to run down your spine. He didn't step towards you, but the space between you both seemed to shrink in the way he carried himself—every step deliberate, every movement measured.

"Why do you care so much?" His voice was low, almost detached, but there was a certain sharpness to it now. It was the tone he used when he was dangerously close to losing control, but for now, he still kept it in check. "What's so important about what they think?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words tangled in your throat. You had been so sure of your reasoning—so certain of the way you wanted him to react—but now that he was giving you exactly what you wanted, you realized just how hollow that satisfaction felt.

"I dunno Yoongi—maybe because men ghosted me—maybe because you just might be the reason I had a dry season— or maybe you're that kind of motherfucker—"

Yoongi let out a sharp breath, a dry laugh escaping him as he shook his head. You elevated this to a different level now. "A motherfucker?" He repeated his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "That's what we're doing now?"

You were too far gone to stop. The frustration, the pent-up emotions, the sheer nerve of him sitting there, all unbothered while you spiralled—it cracked something open inside you.

"Yes, Yoongi! A motherfucker! What else do you call a guy who lets rumours fly like this and doesn't even care?" Your hands gestured wildly as your voice grew more frantic.

"You don't deny it, you don't address it, you just exist in this limbo, letting people think we're screwing while I sit here looking like a desperate idiot who cannot get a hold of her man—"

His jaw clenched, his patience visibly wearing thin. "So what if I don't deny it?" He stepped closer, voice a fraction lower now, dangerously quiet. "What if I don't care what they think? What if I like the way it sounds?"

Your breath hitched.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Your entire argument, the whole reason you'd brought this up, suddenly felt shaky, flimsy, like a house of cards collapsing under the weight of his words.

Yoongi watched you, his eyes dark and unreadable, waiting for you to process what he had just admitted.

Finally, your voice came out in a whisper, hoarse and unsure.

"The fuck, Yoongi?"

"I don't deny it," he said again, slower this time. His head tilted slightly, studying you. "Because it's not entirely wrong."

A rush of heat flooded through you—anger, shock, confusion, something else, something deeper and more dangerous. "Not… entirely… wrong?" You echoed, blinking at him. "Are you—are you actually fucking insane?"

Yoongi exhaled sharply, like he was just as frustrated as you were, like you were the one being difficult. "Y/N—"

"No," you cut him off, pointing a finger at him. "No, you don't get to just drop that and act like it's nothing."

"I'm not acting like it's nothing," he countered, his voice still calm, still infuriatingly composed. "You wanted to know why I never denied it? That's why."

"You can't be fucking serious right now, you fuck—" his body in your proximity startled you, but you let him pin you to the wall next to the mixing desk.

His hands caged you in, palms pressing against the wall on either side of your head. You felt the sharp inhale of his breath, the slow exhale, the tension buzzing between you like a live wire.

"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was quiet but razor-edged, his eyes dark and unwavering. "You've been running in circles trying to make me jealous, trying to get a reaction—" his gaze flicked down to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, "pushing me like you want me to snap."

You listened. For once.

"You sat in that fucking booth with only your panties under that big shirt—"

"My fucking shirt—"

"My fucking shirt," he repeated, voice rough. "And you think I wouldn't become possessive? Think I didn't see the way you stretched in it, how you leaned in close, pretending like you didn't know exactly what you were doing?"

Your breath hitched. You did not realize he saw you this way.

You swallowed, trying to find solid ground beneath the sudden energy shift, but Yoongi wasn't giving you the chance.

"You wanted me to react?" His eyes burned into yours. "You wanted this?"

The heat between you became unbearable.

"I—" You started, but you had no words.

Because now, finally, Yoongi wasn't holding back.

And neither were you.

Your pulse hammered in your throat as his words sank in, wrapping around your ribs, tightening like a snare. You had been waiting—aching—for a reaction, pushing buttons you hadn't even fully understood yourself. But now? Now, Yoongi was looking at you like he had already decided.

His breath was warm against your cheek, the space between you non-existent.

"Say it," he murmured.

You licked your lips, the movement not lost on him. "Say what?"

Yoongi let out a short, dark chuckle. "That you like it. That you like this—the way I look at you, the way I see you."

Your stomach flipped.

"You're so full of shit," you whispered, but there was no weight behind it but pure provocation.

His fingers twitched against the wall before he exhaled sharply and leaned in, just enough for your breaths to tangle.

"And you'll be full of me."

"You big enough?" 

Oh, that did it.

A sharp, involuntary gasp left his lips and your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. The air between you turned electric, charged with something too dangerous to name.

Yoongi's gaze darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as if savouring the way your breath hitched when he looked at you that way. He bit down his lower lip before he spoke again, laying his palms on the flat surface of the table in front of the piano that lay on it–

"There are two possibilities happening between us—" He tilted his head slightly, gaze never wavering from yours, his voice a low rasp against your skin.

"One—we make this official,—" He said it like it was inevitable, like it was a fact written in stone. "No more rumours, no more bullshit. No one else but us. Just you and me."

Your breath stuttered, your heart slamming against your ribs.

"And the second?" you whispered, barely able to form the words.

Yoongi smirked, slow and sinful, his fingers twitching against the wall before he leaned in, his mouth a breath away from yours.

"I keep writing my songs, keep filling my verses with filth about how I would fuck you good and hard—until you finally beg me to bury my cock in your cunt."

“And people will hear you’re mine—”

Your entire body went hot. Yoongi's smirk widened, watching the way your breath stuttered, your pupils blown wide. He tilted his head, gaze flicking down to your parted lips, his voice dropping even lower. Your thighs clenched a traitorous reaction that made his smirk turn predatory.

"You—"

"That's the difference between them and me, baby." His fingers ghosted over your waist, light enough to make you shiver. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming so violently it was a wonder you were still standing.

"You're so—"

"What?" Yoongi pressed in closer, his nose brushing against yours. "Say it."

You had no idea what you were going to say.

But when his fingers finally curled around your hip, pulling you flush against him, the words you should say, the ones that would stop this before it went too far—before you gave in—died in your throat.

"Fucking thought so." He smirked again. That smirk. That fucking smirk.

It did something to you, something dangerous, something you weren't sure you could control. It made you want to wipe it off his face—maybe with a slap, maybe with your mouth.

Yoongi knew it, too.

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his breath hot against your cheek, his grip tightening on your hip as if daring you to push him away.

You didn't.

"See?" His voice was silk and smoke, smooth but lethal. "You love this. You love the way I get under your skin. The way I make you feel."

Your nails dug into your palms. "You don't know shit about what I feel."

Yoongi chuckled, low and rough. "Don't I?"

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down your side, stopping just shy of indecency but still making you shudder.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Tell me you don't want this, and I will."

It was the worst thing he could've said. Because the truth—the one you refused to admit even to yourself—was that you didn't want him to stop. Ever. You were so fucking needy to be touched after you got to know that your dried spell had a sorcerer and it was him. So technically now, he should be the one breaking it. And he knew it.

Your silence was all the confirmation he needed to press his lips against your neck.

His hands were suddenly everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs, spreading you open like he had every right to.

"You think I'm going to let you run your mouth, push me to the edge, and not do something about it?" His voice was a rasp, thick with hunger. "You think I don't see how badly you want this?"

Your breath hitched as his thigh pressed between yours, the friction making your knees buckle. His mouth found your jaw, teeth scraping over sensitive skin before he kissed a path down your throat, sucking, biting, claiming.

You barely had time to think before he gripped your wrist, guiding your hand down—down—until your fingers brushed against him, hard and thick beneath his sweats. The sound that tore from his throat was pure sin.

"Feel that?" Yoongi growled, grinding against your palm. "That's what you do to me. That's what you fucking cause each time we're in this studio."

Your fingers flexed, a teasing squeeze that had his breath stuttering. He cursed under his breath, tilting your chin up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Dark. Devouring. Desperate.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured again, a cruel echo of earlier. But this time, there was no space between you, no restraint.

And you didn't.

Instead, you yanked his mouth to yours. Yoongi groaned into the kiss, the sound reverberating through you as his hands pushed under your shirt, fingers trailing over bare skin, leaving fire in their wake.

Your nails raked down his back as he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the wall.

His hips rolled, slow and devastating, and a moan ripped from your throat, shameless, wrecked.

"That's it, baby" he rasped, his forehead against yours, breath heavy. "That's the sound I've been waiting for."

His hand dipped lower, slipping past the band of your shorts, finding you soaked for him. Yoongi cursed, his fingers teasing, circling, before sliding through the wetness with devastating precision.

"Fuck," he groaned, voice hoarse. "You're already so fucking ready for me."

You didn't even get a chance to respond before he pushed a finger inside, then another, stretching you, filling you, working you open until you were trembling against him.

"Yoongi—"

"I know," he hushed you, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper. "I've got you, baby. Just take it."

And fuck, you did. You took everything he gave, your body writhing against his as pleasure built sharp and unbearable, spiralling higher, tightening—

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice dark, commanding. "Come on my fingers like the desperate little thing I know you are."

And when he curled his fingers just right, his thumb pressing where you needed it most—

You shattered.

Completely. Utterly.

Yoongi swallowed your cry with his mouth, dragging it out, his hand still moving, still milking every last bit of pleasure from you until you were shaking in his arms.

Then, as you barely caught your breath, his voice came again, low and teasing.

"Now," he murmured, undoing the string of his sweats, letting them fall.

"I'll fuck you hard that you'll forget about those smutty books you're reading—"

Your body barely had time to recover before Yoongi was pressing closer, his fingers sliding away, leaving you aching and empty. But then—then—his hands were on your hips, tugging your shorts down, peeling them away with agonizing slowness, like he wanted you to feel every second of it.

Your breath stuttered as he stepped back just enough to look at you, his dark gaze trailing over your bare, trembling form.

"Fucking perfect," he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands gripped your thighs and lifted you, forcing your legs around his waist.

The weight of him, the sheer heat of him, pressed right against your core, had you gasping, fingers digging into his shoulders. Yoongi groaned low in his throat, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel all of him, hard and thick and ready.

"Ain’t big enough, huh?" he murmured, dragging his clothed crotch against your soaked heat. His voice was rough, strained. "I’ll show you how big I am."

Your nails bit into his skin, your body writhing against him as he kept teasing, kept torturing you with slow, precise movements. The friction had you panting, your forehead falling against his.

"Stop teasing," you managed, barely above a breath.

Yoongi chuckled, dark and knowing. "Look at you. So desperate for me already." His fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Tell me how much you want it."

You let out a sound between a whimper and a growl, rolling your hips against him in a silent plea. But that wasn't enough for him. Your heart racing, you felt his warm palm connect with your skin, a stinging sensation spreading through your buttocks as he spanked you. You let out a small yelp, but Yoongi didn't relent, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

"Say it." His voice was like gravel, low and demanding. "Say you want me to fuck you, Y/N. Say you need me." He pulled down his sweats enough so his cock sprang free from the confinement.

Your pride clashed with your need, the battle waging for only a moment before he rolled his hips again, pressing the thick head of his cock right against your entrance—and your resolve snapped.

"Fuck—I need you," you gasped, your fingers twisting into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan. "Please, Yoongi—just fuck me."

Something broke in him then.

With a guttural sound, he aligned himself and pushed inside, the stretch of him stealing the air from your lungs. He didn't stop, didn't hesitate—just drove forward, sinking deep until he was fully sheathed inside you until there was no space between you, nothing left but the overwhelming, consuming feel of him.

"Fuck," Yoongi gritted out, his forehead dropping to yours. His hands flexed against your thighs like he was trying to hold himself back, to give you a moment. "So fucking tight."

You could barely breathe, barely think, pleasure and pain and something deeper rolling through you in waves. But then he shifted, just slightly, and—

"Oh fuck," you gasped, your head falling back against the wall.

Yoongi's grip tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "Yeah?" He rolled his hips again, slow and deliberate, dragging himself out before thrusting back in, harder this time. Your moan was wrecked, broken—exactly what he wanted.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, across your collarbone. "Taking me so fucking well."

Then he moved. Snapping his hips as hard as he could to make your back rub against the wall, to make your head spin from the bouncing on his thick cock that made you see so many constellations. Up and down, up and down. He felt so good inside you, filling you completely as his hips slammed against yours.

The force of his thrust made you cry out, your fingers tangled in his dark raven hair, which you so openly adored when he kept longer. His mouth crashed down on yours, swallowing your moans as he drove into you with a fierce intensity, each stroke building on the last.

His hand cupped your breast and his thumb brushed over your nipple. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the fierce way he was driving into you. Your back arched, pushing your breast further into his hand, and you felt his fingers close around it, squeezing softly. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you moaned loudly, the sound lost in the kiss that still claimed your mouth. Yoongi's hips kept moving, each thrust building on the last, and his hand on your breast seemed to be pulling you closer to some unseen edge. His fingers tightened around your nipple, rolling it between them, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink of something explosive.

Yoongi groaned, his grip almost bruising now, his thrusts turning erratic. "You gonna come for me again?" he rasped, his hips thrusting into you harder, each one was met with your breath hitching in your throat before you moaned. Loud.

"Gonna fall apart on my cock?"

It was too much—too good.

"I know what you want, love. What will make you cum around my cock."

Your body began to tense, your muscles coiling tighter and tighter as he spoke. "You want it rough," he growled, his thrusts becoming more savage, more primal.

"You want me to take you apart, piece by piece." His grip on your breast tightened, his fingers digging deep into your skin, and you felt yourself spiralling out of control.

His hand left your breast to envelope around your throat, his fingers wrapping tightly around your neck, his thumb pressing against the underside of your jaw. That was it. Your moans got even louder and he raised a brow. You felt a flutter in your chest as his grip tightened, his eyes burning with an intense hunger as he gazed into yours and he slowed down to observe your face that certainly did not hide any pleasure.

"Kinky," he rasped, his voice low and dirty. "So fucking kinky."

He held you in place, his grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, he began to move his hips again, his cock stirring back to life inside you. His eyes burned with an intense desire, and you could feel the tension building in his body as he drove into you with slow, deliberate strokes.

"I'm going to fill you up, babe" he growled, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to make you take every last drop of me." And with that, he began to thrust into you harder again, faster again, his hips pounding against yours as he chased your release. You felt him swelling inside you, his cock growing thicker and hotter as he approached the edge.

Your orgasm crashed into you, and you could not even stop it. You wanted this to last until your body shuts down from all that pleasure he has given you. Your body locking up as pleasure burns through every nerve ending. You clenched around him, drawing a strangled moan from his lips, his hips snapping forward one last time before he broke. His release spilt deep inside you as he let out a low, guttural groan, his semen erupting into you in a hot, pulsing flood that warmed your walls. You felt him shudder and convulse above you, his body trembling with pleasure as he emptied himself into your waiting flesh

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of being filled and claimed by him almost too much to bear. His chest heaving with exertion and for a moment, neither of you moved.

"You're so fucking mine," he murmured, voice still thick with satisfaction. He lifted his head to meet your lips once more before he said.

"Don't you ever question my devotion for you—" he started, panting after the little stunt you just pulled. 

“—Or the size of my cock, doll.” 

You only smiled wickedly into his lips. 

“You like us role-playing, tho—“ you started. Yoongi's grip on your waist tightened, his lips brushing over your collarbone as his breath warmed your skin. His hand slid lower, fingers tracing the curve of your body possessively. 

"He could not stop talking about it the whole fucking night, babe."

"Who, Jimin?" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement, yet there was an underlying tension in it, like he was trying to keep himself in check to not turn you over and fuck you in the ass. Even though he had to thank Jimin for this fuck prompt he unknowingly gave you an idea of (such a mundane trope) and the final ride you two just had. The thanking will wait until whenever you decide you want Jimin to know about you two.

Of course, something similar happened at the start of your relationship and you could not help yourself to let him fuck you against that wall once again. This time with a similar scenario but slightly adjusted replicas.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, though it was edged with a hint of frustration. You shifted under his touch, your heart still racing from the intensity of the night.

"Yeah. Couldn't stop about how people talk about us fucking our brains out here—"

"But we are—" his voice thick with the weight of his meaning, but his tone now softer than before. His mouth pressed against the sensitive skin just below your ear, and his hands pulled you closer, if that was even possible, as if to remind you of just how much he could claim you again and again and again.

You gasped, your body reacting to him in ways you couldn't control, and you felt a rush of vulnerability, knowing how deeply he could read you. "Yoongi," you breathed, trying to keep your composure, but he wasn't making it easy.

"Yeah, you can say that again," Yoongi whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before his teeth grazed the lobe, making your entire body shudder.

You swallowed hard, your head spinning. "I'm serious," you managed to say, even though your voice came out shaky. "Jimin—he thinks I'm still under that dry spell cuz' everybody thinks we're doing it—"

"Let him yap, love."

"Yeah I would, but he went to a point where he talked about how I'm gonna need to buy that Tesla robot to fuck me cuz' no living man will, thanks to you and your not-so-subtle hints that we're doing it—"

"My not-so-subtle hints?" He chuckled.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, feeling a mixture of amusement and frustration. "I mean, he was kinda making some good points," you teased, pretending to think it over. "We do have that whole 'will they, won't they' vibe going on."

Yoongi's fingers paused against your skin for a moment, as if he were considering your words, but then a slow, mischievous smirk crept onto his lips.

"What do you think, babe?"

"I—I think," you stammered, feeling the weight of the moment sink in, "I think we could've been doing a better damn good job of hiding it. But maybe—" You hesitated, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"Maybe it's time we stop pretending."

"Well, next time Jimin mentions our 'vibe,' I'm making him listen to a few of our 'studio sessions.'"

Your eyes widened in mock horror. "Yoongi!" You gave him a dramatic shiver, and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you.

"Exactly," Yoongi said, smirking mischievously. "That'll shut him up real quick."

"Good luck," you teased, tapping his chest lightly. "Maybe he'll start talking about how lucky you are to have me in your corner."

"Lucky, huh?" he mused, pulling you in for a hug. "You're damn right I'm lucky."

You grinned, enjoying the easy banter, letting the tension slip away as you let him hold you. It wasn't about proving anything to anyone—it was just the two of you, sharing this moment, enjoying each other's company and, of course, having a little fun at Jimin's expense.

"Wait—" you just realised.

"You know about my smutty books?!"

He threw his head back and gave a loud throat laugh in response.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

[mxtantrights]

Azriel is in love with you (not so secret)

There he was. The man who took everything from you.

He stands tall, basking in whatever recent glory he's found. A heavy sack of coins in his hand and a large sword in the other. You remember that sword.

That's the one he used to make you an orphan.

Azriel had winnowed you in like he said. He kept his word. And you knew that both you and him would suffer the consequences for it when you got back home.

But consequences be dammed.

You and Azriel are watching him talk to a female. Probably boasting about his kills. Probably making himself out to be a hero in the story. There's no one around right now except for them.

"We have a small window if you want to do this stealthily." Azriel says from your side.

He says it actually right into your ear. You can feel his breath on your skin. You don't even flinch though. And you don't look away from the male.

"All I need Is seven seconds." you reply.

"I'll handle the female."

And without saying anything else he disappears into his shadows. You watch as the female turns around and starts walking away from the male. Now is the time to make your move.

You unsheathe the blade located on your hip and slowly walk over to the male. His back turned to you. You go right up to him and tap him on the shoulder.

He turns around, right into your blade. His eyes go wide as he looks down. The blood slowly seeping out of him and soaking his clothes. You twist the blade and he grunts.

Grabbing the back of his head and bringing him closer, so he can hear you.

"May my entire family haunt you in death." you whisper into his ear.

Then he goes tumbling down onto the ground. A shadow comes bounding over to you. You expect Azriel to be somewhere close but after a few seconds of waiting for him you get worried.

The shadow pulls you wrist and drags you a couple of paces down the alley. There you see him, Azriel, laying against a brick wall. His lip is split, and he's out of breath.

You run over to him and look him over.

"Azriel what the hell happened?" you ask.

"The female wasn't as uninvolved as I thought." he answers.

"You should have called for me." you say.

"No, you needed to finish what you were doing. I could wait. I'm not-"

You reach out toward his face, and his busted lip. He leans forward and embraces your touch. It should shock you but it doesn't. Not after he basically confessed the other night his feelings for you.

"Don't you dare say you're not important to me Azriel, you have just given me the one thing I thought I would never have." you admit.

"I've waited a long time. I could wait a little more." he says.

You shake your head.

"No more waiting." you drop down and peck the side of his mouth.

You wrap your arms around him and winnow the both of you out of that dark and damp alley. Right into your room. You stumble with him onto the floor. No doubt alerting the house you were back home.

You didn't care about the consequences before. To hell with them now.

"Can't believe you took a beating for me" you speak softly.

"I'll be taking another from Rhys pretty soon." he grumbles.

You lift your head up and gaze at him. There's probably tons of reasons why you didn't see it or didn't know that he had feelings for you. The shadowsinger is used to espionage, hiding things and playing his cards close to his chest.

"As soon as he's done, come find me. So we can talk about what you meant. And so I can thank you properly." you say with a smile.

And he smiles right back at you.

[w2soneshots]

Valentine -W2S

words: 1.0k+

warnings: none, just fluff!

summary: you and Harry spend a wholesome valentines day together.

notes: hello my loves! I’m single af so here’s a cute little fic I wrote with my fav British boy to make me feel better😌🫶🏼. Enjoy!!✨

Liked by wroetoshaw, taliamar and others

y/username: happy Valentine's Day💌

-comments-

wroetoshaw: sneaky

-> y/username: took my chance while you were distracted by the sweets🤗

faithloisak: gorgeous as always

-> y/username: I 💗 U

y/nfanpage21: balloons AND flowers! my girls living the dream🥹🤍

user: ugh, they're disgustingly cute

I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was red heart shaped balloons. I looked around for Harry but he was nowhere to be found. I was extremely confused for a second before I remembered that it was valentine's day.

Just a few minutes later Harry walked into our bedroom holding a tray. "Good morning love," he greeted with a bright smile before placing it in my lap. The tray had pancakes covered in fresh fruit, a coffee and a card tucked into the side.

I looked up at him. "Thank you. Happy valentines day baby." Harry smiled then leaned down and we shared a quick kiss.

After eating the food, which was delicious, I opened the card. On the front it read, "you're a bit of a twat, but you're my twat." with read hearts surrounding the letters. "Very funny," I mumbled through laughter.

Inside the card was a different story. He wrote, "to y/n. I love you so much I don't think I could live without you (so you better not leave me!)," I giggled as he sat patiently waiting for me to read. I continued, "we have a special dinner at 7 so be ready to get your hands dirty. Love Harry."

"That was so sweet." I set the card on my nightstand and moved over to hug him. "Okay, wait there. Lemme go get your card from me!" I called as I cheerfully made my way into our wardrobe where I'd hidden everything.

I returned just a minute later with a gift bag. "Ooo, what's this...?" Harry inquired as I plonked myself down next to him and passed him the bag. "Open it and see!"

Harry was quick to fling the tissue paper across the room and look inside. "Ah! This is sick!" He looked at me with the cutest and brightest smile. He pulled out the special addition supreme jumper that he's had his eye on.

It wasn't super cute or wholesome like most valentines gifts but he's impossible to buy for so I didn't have many options.

"How the fuck did you manage to get this?" He asked, "it's been sold out everywhere!" I chuckled as he admired it. "I have my ways..."

A few hours later we decided it'd be fun to go and see the movie we've been wanting to watch in the cinema. We both got dressed into some comfy clothes and headed out.

On our way we stopped off at a shop to get some snacks since they're always extremely overpriced in the cinema and Harry loves a bargain. "Which one do you want? Actually... I'll just get all of 'em," he said as he looked at the selection of sweets. I giggled when he stood up with an excessive amount of them in the basket.

After watching the movie we stopped off for some lunch and then spontaneously decided to go bowling since we walked past the place on our way home.

wroetoshaw posted a new story!

"Beat ya!" I smiled when the final scores registered on the board. "By like... two points," Harry huffed. "Don't be a sore loser baby," I teased with a smirk then leaned into him to press a kiss to his lips. "Alright alright," he chuckled, "let's go home."

We walked back to our apartment building, hand in hand. The sun was setting and the air was surprisingly warm for February, in London. I breathed out a content sigh and leaned my head on his shoulder when we finally got into the lift.

"Hungry?" Harry asked me a little while later, while we sat on our couch with a random show playing on the tv, that we definitely weren't paying attention to.

"Mhm," I hummed. He jumped up. "Well, we're makin' pizza!" he said excitedly, "you coming petal?" I cocked my head to the side in surprise. "Oh, Haz. How romantic," I replied with a smile and followed him into the kitchen.

He took his time making the dough while I prepared the sauce and grated the cheese. Just as I was pouring the sauce into a pot I felt a puff of flour cover my shirt.

"Ah! Absolutely not!" I giggled before quickly gathering some in the palm of my hand and blowing it straight into his face. He coughed out a laugh. "Jesus Christ woman!"

He rolled out his pizza into a misshapen circle while I made mine into a cute little heart. We then covered it in tomato sauce, sprinkled on the cheese and added any last toppings.

y/username posted a new story!

After popping our masterpieces into the oven we sat back on the sofa with our drinks of choice and waited patiently for them to finish cooking.

"Mmm... this was one of the best ideas you've ever had," I murmured happily with a mouth full of pizza. "I know. I'm a genius, what can I say." I shook my head as I giggled at his sarcastic cockiness.

"You ready for bed love?" He asked as I yawned. I nodded slowly. I closed my eyes for just a second and before I could even process what was happening I was being lifted into the air, fireman style.

I leaned into my boyfriend's chest and exhaled deeply. He set me down on our bed gently. "I'm just gonna go take a shower. I'll be back in a minute to get into bed with you. Good night, I love you and happy Valentine's Day," he whispered with a kiss to my forehead before I drifted off with a soft smile on my lips.

[transgenderer]

theres a very weird thing to me abt modern AI doomers where like. i don't really understand the narrative anymore? the old AI that people were scared of were *control/management systems*! which have very clearly paths to doing evil things, their whole point is causing things to happen in the real world. but the AI advancements people are scared about now are all in LLMs, and it's not clear to me how they would, yknow, "go skynet". like. just on a basic sci fi narrative level. whats the *story* in these people's minds. it's easy to see how it could be a useful tool for a bad person to achieve bad goals. that would be bad but is a very different sort of bad from "AI takes over". what does a modern LLM ai takeover look like, they don't really have *goals*, let alone evil ones. theyre simulators

[ambiguouspuzuma]

One thing not really mentioned here (and in other replies I've seen) is that from my memory Legends & Lattes did have high stakes!

This wasn't just about a business failing and plunging the protagonist into bankruptcy. There was the ex-colleague spellcaster out to get her, as well as the local mob closing in. There were threats to life and death as well as turnover.

For me it's more that they were resolved relatively easily. Our protagonist was strong and capable and the plot was largely just a procession of people turning up to offer their help. It felt too easy and predictable. Problems were introduced but then easily brushed aside. They didn't feel real. There was alleged danger, but no tension.

As a contrast, A Rival Most Vial takes a similar premise, and arguably lower stakes, but makes the tension really work by having two protagonists playing off against each other. We're taught to want two things which are in direct contradiction. Suddenly we have a problem where we can't see the easy solution. It's the tension of a tragedy, where we can see both points of view but know they can't both win.

Legends & Lattes didn't work for me because it didn't feel real. As noted above in its favour, it was a list of tasks to be done, and they were all completed in order. It never made me think, and it never really gave me a character to care for. But A Rival Most Vial proves that this is not a limitation of the genre, and nothing to do with the height of the stakes.

Low stakes stories can have plenty of narrative tension and have you fretting and pulling out your hair. The internal stakes just need to be clear, making you understand why the character cares about their goal, and they need to face plausible obstacles - which, in the absence of credible external threats, can be other people. You can write a gripping story based entirely on interpersonal drama, with no higher stakes than hurt feelings and botched relationships. You just need to actually sell that.

Cosy fantasy does work. But it's not just writing a fantasy story, dialling down the setting, and hoping that what's left is enough. It isn't just high-fantasy-light, watering down the dungeons and dragons with something more domestic. If you're removing the epic quest, you need to replace that plot with something else - characters and a premise that would have worked fine as a story in a non-fantasy setting.

It can be a romance, a coming-of-age story, whatever, but it needs to be a plot that could stand on its own feet without the fantasy trappings, and you're just setting it in a fantasy world. I don't feel like Legends & Lattes does that - it seems to start with the fantasy world, and tell a half-hearted story which nobody would want to read otherwise. But I think the core characters and relationships of A Rival Most Vial are compelling in any world, and the fun worldbuilding of their setting is just the frosting on the top.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[kaisollisto]

“Are you here?" Ava barely breathes it, there's a tension in the air that she can't recognize, an energy that squashes her. Her throat feels scratchy and she can feel the Halo slotted between her shoulders. Ava's flat on her back head turned to look over at Beatrice. She feels wimpy like a stomped flower, her left arm dangles dangerously close to Beatrice-territory. She wants to reach out, to touch Beatrice to confirm that she's here but something stops her. She feels so silly, she could easily shift over to touch Beatrice, shake her gently and - 

Beatrice slides over, a firm sleepy sister warrior knife wielding badass with frumpy hair poofing from what remains of her low bun. She moves towards Ava, inches away from her but moves to answer her. It’s rare for Ava to see her like this. Beatrice is clearly fighting sleep, rubbing her eyes and doing her best to move in hopes that it’ll shake the sleepy spell. 

She’s dressed in one of Ava’s ugly loose white shirts, a huge bass clashing with faded big blocky lettering that just reads “FISH”. Beatrice had looked at her weirdly when Ava had dug it out of the bins at a thrift store disheveled and ecstatic. 

Ava had spent hours coaxing her into it doing her damn best to hide Beatrice’s laundry when she wasn’t looking. It fills a warm feeling in her chest and Ava wants to burrow further into it. It was a fool proof plan. 

Ava found her shortness made it exhausting to reach up towards the Beatrice-level-cabinets. The halo pulls at her pinching and knotting up the muscles in her back after a long day of training. She feels it alive within her, an uncomfortable reminder sealed inside her back. 

At the end of the day Ava settled on hinging at the waist. She had slowly started integrating Beatrice’s sleep shirts in cabinets that Beatrice had to bend down to reach. Ava always tried to situate herself at the scene of the crime doing her best to seem inconspicuous while she leaned over hungry for Beatrice’s reaction. Ava thumbed her findings down in the recess of her mind, her finger tracing over it in a hurried desperation. The time would pass and she did not want to forget. 

(It helped, the imagery of Bea’s furrow when she would find her sleepwear underneath the sink when Ava would have to tuck her spine into the halo as she placed the shirt somewhere clean.) 

Thanks to her genius planning Beatrice had finally caved and worn Ava’s huge “FISH” t-shirt after weeks of her persistence. She looked adorable, she was drowning in it and constantly tugging at it. She had found Beatrice loved to tuck it into the band of her sleep shorts creating puffy funny creases distorting the text even further to say “FSH”. It looked so ugly and old and endearing. 

She looked out of her depth and it made Ava’s heart thump funny. Beatrice with her weird posh mannerisms combined with the peaceful unguarded look when she slumbered made her feel hot all over. 

It was the prospect of the future, a glimpse into her life with Beatrice, of when they would grow old together. It shakes her, the idea that Beatrice will get wrinkles with her. She takes it seriously, a study that she isn’t well versed in but preparing for. It is a long hard internal debate flipping between what wrinkles will show first. Ava selfishly hopes it’s smile lines, that Beatrice will smile at her as much as she does in secret. She’s happy to be wrong, Beatrice’s forehead crinkles have always been cute. She hopes that Beatrice never stops looking at her, thinking of her. She wants to spend a long time being the source of her wrinkles. And just for right now she can handle the role of being just her friend. 

Beatrice blinks one eye open, the other pressed against the pillow as she stifles a yawn. Her hand blocks her mouth in a delicate way and Ava can see her nails are short and uneven in places. Ava wishes she could touch them, study them in a way no one has done before. She wants to press against Beatrice hard enough to watch her skin fold around hers. Some sort of truth that she was here, that she is here. 

Beatrice scoots over slowly, her elbow tucked under the pillow. She stops inches away from Ava, a frown set in her jaw. Ava mirrors her position albeit more awkwardly and more wiggling than Beatrice’s but she finds a place where the Halo won’t bite her back. 

“I’m here,” Beatrice murmurs it, a quiet thing between them. 

Ava closes her eyes hoping Beatrice won’t notice her shakiness. She blinks a few times before she presses closer, the arm she’s laying on moving to support her head underneath the pillow. 

There’s so much to tell her, anything and nothing at all and Ava doesn’t know where to start. It constricts her throat, the constant stream of consciousness from inside of her heart. It’s horrible and she can’t stop it as the feeling balloons inside of her lungs. Ava wants help, she so desperately wants to feel okay again, to feel anything other than the stupid fucking halo. It grates on her nerves and muscles, a burning hot metal ring poking and prodding at the entirety of her upper torso. It leaves her reeling, a sort of anger that beckons for her to hurt (hurt something, hurt someone, hurt), disregarding the aftermath of tears and shame. 

Ava is sure she’s shaking, a layer of sweat gathers between the space of her shoulder blades as the Halo lights up with her inner turmoil. It’s a faint pitiful thing that Ava would be ashamed of if not for the bone aching tiredness. 

She wants to say she’s sorry the words clawing their way up her throat and it feels wrong to feel anything but that. There’s a sort of unspoken shame that haunts her with the Halo. It’s a thing she’s known long before any of this. 

Beatrice drags her out of her turmoil with her hand hovering near Ava’s pinky. She has a gracefulness to it, like she has practiced it a hundred times over. It’s weird, to be in a bed, a soft and lumpy bed looking at Beatrice. Beatrice with such plain features and subtle cheekbones that Ava can’t stop looking. It pays off, watching Beatrice, Ava knows it when Bea smiles a grin too wide for polite acknowledgement and Ava can see her dimples pronounced. 

“Can I?” Beatrice’s finger lingers near her hand, a hovering itch that Ava needs scratched. It’s so wholeheartedly Beatrice that Ava can do nothing but nod. Something inside of Ava aches harder than the rest of the organs inside of her. It’s the unwavering crushing thumping feeling that squeezes around her heart. The sincerity of Beatrice. 

She places her hand over Ava’s and squeezes her gently. Beatrice’s hands are firm and soft. She can feel the callouses on her palms prodding at the back of her hand and wonders if Beatrice has ever had them fade away. If she’s had the pleasure of unscathed palms. Her hands are warm but not sweaty, not like Ava’s.

Ava can’t feel Beatrice’s pulse but she tries her best to match it. She imagines it would be a slow melody playing a duet with a classical track. Some sort of tune that spurs comfort or a feeling of nostalgia. She briefly wonders if Beatrice listens to music, if she seeks out music that has spoken to her. If there was a song that shook her to her core so deeply she had to sit down and digest it. There’s so much she still needs to know and so little time. 

“I admit I’m not sure what you need from me.” Beatrice whispers it quietly, she’s hunched awkwardly, hovering close in Ava’s space but too far away for her own comfort. 

Ava clamps her mouth shut, sure that “come closer” will betray her. That she will reach too far into Beatrice and take far too much. 

Beatrice pays no mind to Ava’s silence and slowly caresses her hand, it’s a small little gesture that seems to have no set course. Ava briefly wonders if it’s the start of a massage or if Beatrice is looking for her joints underneath her skin and touching her tendons in apology. 

It should be awkward, Beatrice and Ava orbiting each other in a lopsided manner. A rotational tilt that is unfamiliar to both of them and yet feels intimate. An unknown dance with their eyes closed and their breaths mingling. (It’s easy to follow Beatrice’s lead, Ava knows love.) 

There’s nothing Ava can say to her, she chokes up at the prospect and they both blink at each other. She’s not sure what she needs, only that it’s nice having someone here. 

Beatrice drowsily blinks rapidly and slowly at the same time as Ava watches swallowing the bits of her smile. Her hand has slowed its pathing, opting to curl on the inside of Ava’s fingers. It’s endearing watching one of her favorite bad ass sister warriors lose against sleep. It softens the edges of Beatrice who is always carrying some unseen obligation. (Here it is only the two of them free of their past and future burdens, just two girls sprawled thinly on hopes and dreams). 

She can feel Beatrice’s grip loosen, she’s going to fall back asleep any minute now but Ava doesn’t have the heart to keep her up. Beatrice is no doubt tired, powered by her own sleeping and eating habits unlike Ava who has the artifact to juice her up. 

She isn’t quite unwound but she feels manageable now. It’s weird to be within reach of Beatrice, someone who cares about her. To be in proximity of someone who will look for her, be in step with her, maybe it’s duty but Ava holds it close to her heart regardless. (It’s all the same to her, devotion, loyalty, love). 

She clings to Beatrice afraid to let the moment go, she had called and someone had answered, Bea had answered. Ava can feel her eyes watering, it almost feels like a distant dream. She tucks her chin closer to chest and thinks, how awful to be loved. 

She can feel her throat closing up and she squeezes Bea’s hand just a tiny bit harder. (She answers in the twitch of her hand, clearly on the cusp of sleep). The Halo still thunders in her back throbbing some fatal fate but here in the hush of night grounded by the touch of Beatrice she has some reprieve.  (Part 1)