#op fanfic recommendations

[llilyrose]

Do you have fic recommendations 👉👈

Of course!

I would recommend my own fic, but... it's still in the works, unfortunately. No mal du pays content for the weak and elderly.

did you really think i wouldn't recommend ghostlight, of all things? especially with my current drawing series, obviously it's good!

It's a postgame fic centered on loop's and siffrin's (mostly loop's) healing processes post-game, where loop has to learn how to be human again. It's 24 chapters long, about 84k words, has an ongoing sequel (though it's on hiatus), and has a tumblr account you can interact with! @ghostlightfic

here are some other postgame fic recommendations:

Bloom And if I were not myself, would this be easier?

@livesworthlivingau Is a postgame au where Siffrin lives on for 30 years after the loops only to loop back when Odile dies in the future. This fic has a dual chapter system, one set of chapters that focuses on Loop and one set of chapters that focuses on Siffrin. This distinction becomes crucial later on. It also, like ghostlight, has a discord to join :3

I haven't read chokehold of a broken family bond myself, but I've heard wonderful things about it from everyone around me!!!! It's a LONG, ongoing AU fic that I'm sure someone else can provide a synopsis for ;)

Follow the Stars Back Home is another fic I have yet to read, but got recommended and decided to check out. It's postgame and focuses more on Siffrin's Island trauma than their Looping trauma, a nicher aspect people don't explore often.

speaking of aus:

Try It Again, Cheater by @moonstandardtime sends Loop back to their original timeline after breaking free from Siffrin's loops. They and their family have to adjust to this drastic Change and suffer the consequences of a timeline they could never remember.

To Extend our Reach to the Stars Above is a Villain Siffrin au where they meet the King before the party! It's one of only a few fics that explore this concept, all of which are so so interesting to me. Check it out!

Timeloop Support Group by @pixxyofice is a fic about therapy done from the pov of Siffrin and focuses on timeloop trauma. The twist? The people they're stuck with are au versions of their friends who got trapped in time loops themselves!

featured aus:

In Tales and Time (Odile) by @/tealgoat In Cycles and Cessation (Mira) by @/the-bitter-ocean Of Stitches in Sequence by @/basilpaste (which also has two fics on ao3, but i recommend viewing the au on everyone's profiles instead)

-- Oh, hey, Basilpaste!!! They have more bangers up their sleeve!!!! Slay the Savior is a Slay The Princess fusion au with ISAT that features Isabeau as the protagonist and Siffrin as the princess. Not only is the writing excellent but he thought up new designs for each siffrin on each path!!! Not to mention thinking up new paths, too! It's on hiatus, though.

The Dormont Archives are another Basil product, infusing ISAT into The Magnus Archives universe!! Like STS it's done in the style of the media and all of the statements are absurdly creative. It's ongoing with (currently only) 14 chapters, god knows how many planned for the future. (ALSO IT APPARENTLY HAS A DISCORD. I DIDN'T KNOW AABOUT THAT WHILE WRITING IT. go check out basil they put so much effort into this stuff dude 😭)

I've read SO MANY isat fanfics but the majority of them never got bookmarked. Practically all of the ones on ao3 are a good read!!! It's hard to keep track!!! If i missed any of your favorites fanfics on any website, please tell me please. if I've read it it'll get added to the list.

[xteenagex-dirtbagx-blog]

Enemies to lovers

[its-leethee]

Sorpeli fanart inspired by @jelzorz's absolutely gorgeous fic (and extended 'verse) The Fruit; because this ship and this fic deserve more attention:

"There's plenty more, they won't miss out." Soren grins at her, handsome and easy and lopsided, the sun like gold in his hair. He's been taller than her for years, but it's still a shock sometimes. "Here." He tugs her hood down before she can argue and sets the flowers in her hair, petals soft against the silver of her circlet. "Pretty."

[geniusboyy]

Covenants and other Provisions

Chapter 32

Pas De Deux

     The kitchen was thick with the haze of cigarette smoke, curling in slow, ghostly ribbons toward the yellowed ceiling—the nearby open window doing little to disturb it. The rhythmic snip of scissors cutting through thick strands of hair punctuated the space between conversation. Fidds stood behind Ford, one hand firm on his head, angling him just so as he worked around his ears, the blade gliding through his curls, sending chunks tumbling down into loose piles on the linoleum beside their feet.

     Fidds worked methodically, his fingers raking through Ford’s hair before lifting another section to shear away. He held his cigarette between his lips, the ember flaring each time he took a slow drag.

     Ford exhaled, watching the smoke unfurl from his own cigarette, his mind a restless hum of half-formed equations and shifting patterns. His knee bounced, an unconscious, jittery rhythm, his body unable to match the pace of his thoughts. “If we want the system to sustain itself without a hard reset every time we hit a high-energy event, we need better buffering.” He gestured vaguely with his cigarette, nearly knocking into Fidds’ arm. “The ore’s output spikes too erratically. We need something that can absorb and redistribute the excess before it fries the circuit.”

     “Quit bouncing your leg or this is gonna come out crooked,” Fidds muttered.

     Ford forced himself to still. “Sorry, I’m just excited.” He took another drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a beat before exhaling. “I was thinking—if we configure a layered capacitor matrix, something that can cycle the overflow before it hits critical, we can smooth out the draw. And if we tie it to an active relay system, we won’t have to manually adjust the thresholds every time we recalibrate.”

     Fidds hummed, combing through the uneven layers before snipping away another curl. “So a real-time modulation loop—treatin’ it like a fluctuating power source instead of tryin’ to regulate it at a fixed rate?”

     “Exactly,” Ford said, straightening slightly. “We need to predict oscillation patterns before they happen. If we can get ahead of the waveform, we can redistribute power dynamically. That way, the system doesn’t just react to instability—it compensates.”

     Fidds let out a slow breath, considering. “That’s tricky.” He took another drag of his cigarette, the ember flaring red before he flicked away the ash. “If we don’t get the timing right, we’re just shufflin’ the problem around instead of fixin’ it. Best case, we smooth out the flow. Worst case, we overload a different node and the whole thing locks up.”

     Ford nodded, tapping his cigarette against the edge of the ashtray. “I’ve been running projections, testing different modulation intervals. There’s a sweet spot between overcorrection and lag. We just have to find it before we scale up.”

     Fidds made a small sound—somewhere between acknowledgment and mild amusement. “You been up all night thinkin’ about this?”

     Ford huffed a quiet laugh, tipping his head forward as Fidds guided it, his neck bowing under the weight of his own thoughts. “Barely slept,” he said.

     Fidds made a small sound in the back of his throat, not quite sympathy, not quite amusement. “Ain’t that always the way,” he murmured.

     Ford tapped his fingers against the table a couple times. “I figure I’ll spend the next couple weeks stress-testing the relay system, making sure it holds under simulated conditions. If we can fine-tune the redistribution speed, we should be able to handle a full-scale field test before the month’s out.”

     Fidds snorted. “Keep it to the simulations, can’t have you blowin’ yourself up before I get back.”

     Ford smirked. “Wouldn’t be real progress if something didn’t explode at least once.”

     Fidds chuckled, shaking his head. “You got some strange ideas of fun, Pines.”

     The scissors made their final pass through Ford’s hair before Fidds ran the come upward from the nape of Ford’s neck, and then there was a pause—just the quiet hiss of their cigarettes burning, the faint creak of the old kitchen chair beneath him. Fidds tapped the excess ash from his cigarette into a half-drunk mug of coffee, squinting at the back of Ford’s head.

     Then, a small noise, a brief exhale—something between a laugh and a grunt. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered, tilting Ford’s head forward. His thumb pressed lightly against the ridge of Ford’s spine as he examined something at the back of his head.

     Ford blinked, pulled abruptly from the tangled web of equations in his head. “What?”

        “You got some grays back here.”

     Ford’s brow furrowed. “What?” he repeated, sharper this time, his hand reaching blindly toward the back of his head.

     Fidds snipped a small section and reached around, depositing it into Ford’s palm. “See for yourself.”

     Ford brought them up to his face, the salt-and-pepper strands stark against his skin. His stomach twisted, a strange, leaden weight settling in his chest. He turned them over in his fingers, rubbing them against his thumb like the texture might reveal it was simply a trick of the light. But the color wasn’t uniform—some were almost entirely silver, others brown streaked with pale gray, the pigment leeching out in uneven waves.

     Fidds laughed, the sound light and easy—just another jab, just another thing to tease Ford about. “Sorry, big guy,” he said, setting the comb down with a quiet clink. He patted Ford’s shoulder, not noticing the way he stiffened beneath his hand. “Happens to the best of us. You ain’t no spring chicken.”

    Ford exhaled sharply through his nose, slumping back in the chair. He reached up, tugging at a curl near his temple, stretching it straight, pulling it down over his eye. He twisted the strand between his fingers, staring at the color—deep, rich brown, still untouched. He didn’t know why he was focusing on it, why he felt the need to look at it for so long—maybe to commit it to memory.

     Fidds gave a small, thoughtful hum. “Well, guess it kinda suits you,” he said offhandedly. “It’ll give ya that distinguished look—y’know, professor and all that.” He ran his fingers through the back of Ford’s hair again, this time more absentmindedly, like he was just making sure he hadn’t missed a spot. “’Course, means you’ll be lookin’ like an old man before I do.”

     Ford let out a burst of air, barely a scoff. He pressed the cigarette butt lightly against his teeth a few times before speaking. His voice was quieter now, like it had to fight to make it past his lips.

        “Yeah, it uh—it runs in the family…” he said.

     Fidds’ hand hesitated. A fraction of a second, barely perceptible, but there.

     Fidds resumed the motion, slower this time, gentler. He didn’t say anything right away. He wasn’t sure if he should. Instead, he took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke leaving through his nose as his eyes scanned his work, checking that everything was even—but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the movement.

        Ford’s leg. Bouncing lightly up and down again.

     Not like before. Not with that eager, restless energy from earlier, when his mind was alight with discovery, when he couldn’t sit still because his body couldn’t contain the momentum of his thoughts. No, this was something smaller, something more contained. A twitch. A subtle, nervous movement. Fidds didn’t tell him to stop this time.

     Ford took a slow drag from his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs too long before exhaling. “Thanks for doing this before you head out.”

     Fidds exhaled too, though it came with a quiet sigh. “No problem, bud. You needed it.” His fingers did a final ruffle through Ford’s freshly cut hair before he unclipped the towel from around his neck, shaking loose curls onto the floor.

     The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t the easy kind—the kind they usually sat in without issue, just two men smoking, working, sharing space. No, this one settled into the room differently, a bit heavier.

     And Ford, still staring down at the cigarette in his hand, didn’t move to break it.

     Fidds took one last glance at Ford’s reflection in the darkened kitchen window, his freshly cut hair a little uneven where it curled at the edges, before turning away and tapping the ash from his cigarette into the sink. The ember flared for a brief second before dimming, burning low. He checked his watch.

     “Gotta get goin’ here soon if I’m gonna make that flight,” he said, grabbing his button-up from the back of one of the dining chairs. He shook it out, the fabric snapping lightly in the quiet before he started pulling the sleeves over his arms.

     Ford exhaled and nodded absently as he stood and went for the broom. He tapped the cigarette over the edge of the ashtray, watching the embers flick away before snuffing it out entirely. 

     Fidds kept talking, rolling his shoulders to settle the fabric. “Fridge is stocked up for ya, but two weeks is a while, so you’ll probably have to go into town at some point.” He paused, shaking his head as he fastened the buttons. “Try not to get into any fistfights.” His tone was light, but there was an edge of sincerity to it, a pointedness in the way he glanced over.

     It earned a quiet chuckle from Ford, one that loosened some of the tension that had been hanging between them. “You know me, Fid, I’m no trouble maker,” he said, sweeping the last of the stray hair into the dustpan.

     Fidds huffed, shaking his head with a half-smirk, but something about Ford’s tone made him hesitate before replying.

     Instead, he stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Ford’s shoulder. His palm was warm, steady, grounding. “I mean it, Ford. Take care of yourself while I’m gone.”

     Ford didn’t look up, just brushed the last of the hair into the bin with the edge of his foot.

     Fidds squeezed his shoulder lightly. “Don’t get too caught up down in that lab. Please?”

     Ford didn’t answer right away. He just kept sweeping, his movements slower now, almost absentminded. Then, finally, he muttered, “Sure.”

        But it didn’t sound like a promise.

     Fidds didn’t press. He just exhaled through his nose, brief but knowing, and moved toward the door where his bags sat idly against the frame. His coat hung from the rack above them, and he pulled it down, giving it a sharp shake before threading his arms through the sleeves. His hat followed, settled easily onto his head with a practiced tug at the brim.

     Then he crouched, unzipping the duffel at his feet. His fingers sifted through its contents, pausing when they found their mark.

        “Hold out your hand,” he said.

     Ford hesitated, brow pinching slightly, but followed the instruction.

     Fidds pulled something about the size of his fist from the bag, his grip careful as he placed it into Ford’s palm. “Happy Hanukkah,” he said.

        Ford looked down. A snow globe.

     He turned it slightly, brows furrowing as he examined the tiny scene inside. Then, slowly, his lips parted. The realization hit him in pieces—the shape of the porch, the placement of the chairs, the shed out back, the exact curve of the gravel driveway. It was the cabin.

     The level of detail was almost unsettling. The way the shingles layered over each other, the faint etching of wood grain in the porch railing. Even the path of the fence line, twisting slightly where the old post leaned.

     Ford shook his head slightly, looking up at Fidds, who was already grinning.

        “Hanukkah ended on Saturday,” Ford said.

     Fidds huffed, shoving Ford’s shoulder. “You bastard, you gotta tell me this shit!”

     Ford laughed, the sound breaking through something in his chest as he gave the globe a shake, watching the snow swirl and settle over the tiny model. “How’d you even make this?”

     Fidds just shrugged, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

     Ford exhaled softly, his fingers tightening around the glass. “Thank you, Fiddleford. This is… very thoughtful.” He hesitated, rolling his thumb along the base of the globe. “I… don’t have anything to give you.”

     Fidds shook his head, brushing it off with a quiet laugh. “That’s alright.” He leaned down, zipping his bag shut before straightening again. “Just make sure that little critter in the lab stays fed.”

     Ford sighed, tipping his head back slightly. “Yes, wouldn’t want anything happening to our class pet.”

     Fidds snorted. “He likes green apple,” he said, pointing a finger at Ford as if to emphasize it. “But don’t give him too much.”

     Ford rolled his eyes but smiled. “You got it, Dolittle.” He nodded toward the door. “Now get going. Wouldn’t want you to miss your flight.”

     Fidds lingered for a second longer, eyes scanning Ford’s face like he wanted to say something else. But whatever it was, he left it unsaid. Instead, he just clapped Ford’s shoulder again, squeezed once—as to emphasize the something in the nothing, then grabbed his bag and stepped out the door.

     Ford stood by the window, one hand resting against the cold sill, watching as the glow of Fidds’ taillights faded down the gravel drive. The car’s low rumble drifted through the trees, tires crunching over the uneven road, kicking up dust that swirled in the weak light of the porch lamp before settling back into the quiet. The wind had picked up, rattling the loose pane in the kitchen window, making it shudder in its frame. It carried through the house, slipping through cracks in the walls, whistling under the door—a restless presence moving through the empty spaces Fidds had left behind.

     Ford didn’t move. He stood there long after the car had disappeared, staring at the dark stretch of road, at the empty place where the headlights had been, at the trees swaying against the late afternoon sky.

     The house felt different now. Still, but not peaceful. Hollowed out.

        “And then there were two.”

     Bill’s voice curled at the base of Ford’s skull, thick with something half-amused, but mostly indulgent, stretching itself out just to hear the sound of it. A deliberate pause, a silence filled with its own meaning. Then, finally:

     “So.” Drawn out, lazy. “What are your plans for the solstice?”

     Ford glanced at the empty stretch of road, then away. “You’re looking at it.”

     “Oh, come on, Fordsy, no garlands?” Bill’s voice lilted in mock disappointment. “No lights? No merriment?” He let the words stretch, savoring the shape of them. “I certainly wouldn’t mind watching you swing that axe again. Lug in one of those trees that stay green…forever. What are they called?”

        “Evergreen”

     “Yes! Evergreen…well, not after the ritual—you humans do that this time of year, right? Hack one out of the earth, drag it inside, let it die slowly in the corner?”

     Ford shook his head, lips pressing into something like a smirk. “I’m Jewish.”

     Bill hummed, almost thoughtfully. “Right, right…  The eight crazy nights and whatnot.”

     “Yeah.” Ford muttered, fingers absently tugging at the hairs at the nape of his neck, a restless, unconscious movement. After a beat, he let his hand fall, something final in the gesture.

     “I thought all you humans flocked back to the nest for those sorts of things.” Bill’s voice took on that probing, casual lilt, the way he always did when he already knew the answer but wanted to see how it would unfold anyway. “Big, noisy feasts—everyone yelling and interrupting each other. But for some reason, there’s always one of the older ladies commenting on who’s gained weight.”

     That—that—did get a chuckle out of Ford. Brief. Quiet. The kind that escaped before he could smother it. “You’re not too far off.” His gaze flicked, almost involuntarily, back to the window. The road was empty. Whatever he’d been looking for—whatever he’d half-expected to see—wasn’t there. He reached into his pocket for his cigarettes.

        “But not you?”

     Ford sparked a match, the flare of it sharp in the dim light. The scent of sulfur curled at the edges of the room. He inhaled deeply, letting the burn settle behind his ribs before shaking his head. “No.”

        “Certainly someone’s waiting for you?”

     Ford exhaled, smoke rising in slow, heavy spirals. He didn’t answer immediately, and when he did, his voice was tight, controlled, like it was carefully smothering something. “It already passed. It—” He stopped, rubbed a hand over his mouth, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

     A quiet stretched between them, long and thin.

        “I see.” Bill replied simply.

     Bill didn’t push further, which was almost stranger than if he had.

     Ford turned from the window, leaving a slow trail of smoke behind him as he descended the stairs into the lab. The shift was immediate—the crisp chaos of the underground space swallowing him whole.

     He shrugged on his lab coat, rolling his shoulders to settle it properly, then absently straightened a row of labeled vials as he passed them. At the far wall, a large canister housed a roll of tightly wound graph paper. He unraveled a clean stretch, slicing it neatly against the razor at the dispenser’s edge.

     The workbench was scattered with old notes, pages softened at the corners, numbers running together in thick graphite. He smoothed the sheet down, clipping it in place, then reached for one of his notebooks. His fingers skimmed past calculations, sketches, stray annotations, flipping with precision until he found the page he wanted:

     A rough concept. Barely a blueprint. Just the beginning of something—a mess of equations, half-solved formulas, notes scrawled hastily in the margins.

     Ford sat, rolling his chair closer to the desk. His pencil hovered over the page for a moment before pressing down, thickening the lines of an equation, adjusting a variable.

     His pencil moved, quick, deliberate. Adjusting for wavelength distortion, refining the detection parameters. The energy output was still too unstable; he’d have to work through that.

     He began marking adjustments, recalibrating, erasing, rewriting. The slow drag of graphite against paper filled the silence, an almost meditative repetition. He sketched out a rudimentary lens array, scratched it out, trying again. There were still problems to solve—the signal resolution, for one, wasn’t precise enough. The data output had too much noise, and if he couldn’t isolate the event patterns cleanly, then—

     He tapped the pencil against the margin, thinking.

     Bill, uncharacteristically, was still silent. It was the kind of quiet Ford recognized—not absence, but expectation. Waiting for something.

     Ford could feel Bill tracing the movements of his hands—not the lines or the figures on the paper, but the motions themselves. The careful precision, the obsessive repetition of it all. 

     He could feel it in his bones, that quiet weight between his shoulder blades—a constant, soft presence, like the brush of fingertips just shy of contact. It was a feeling so familiar, so entwined with his own body that he could forget it was there, and then remember it again, in the space of a breath—oh, how quickly it made him forget the mess.

     He set the pencil down and leaned back in his chair, taking a slow, deliberate pull from his cigarette, exhaling smoke toward the dark corners of the lab.

     “It’s a time to do things you enjoy with people you like.” Ford said simply, voice was measured. He took another slow drag from his cigarette.

        “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

     Bill made a noise—something light, lilting, a bit teasing. “How sweet.”

—

     The world returned in layers—first sensation, then weight, then the slow, deliberate effort of movement.

     Flesh was strange. Heavy. Confining in a way that felt unnatural, as if it were trying to remind Bill of the boundaries of this borrowed body. He rolled Ford’s shoulders, felt the tension strung between the bones, the way the muscles resisted before yielding. He stretched Ford’s fingers one by one, flexed them, curled them into fists, then released. The knuckles cracked, sharp in the quiet. 

     Ford’s body was worn—he’d spent too many nights bent over a desk, hunched, but even so, it responded. He could feel it now—muscles that would bend for him, would let him in when the time came. In some sense, it was always like this—Ford’s body, heavy in its own skin, but soft and vulnerable under Bill’s hands. 

     He tipped Ford’s head from side to side, testing. The weight of it was satisfying. Ford’s neck wasn’t the only thing he felt the pull of—there was the sharp, muscular lines of his arms, the quiet strength of his frame—they held an allure, something not quite of the body but for it. Bill often found his thoughts straying to those moments, the raw, unsaid things that lived in their touch, their quiet heat.

     Bill could feel the tension run deeper, could sense the resistance, the discomfort in Ford’s own willingness to be claimed—as he had been time and again, but never fully. And wasn’t that something? Wasn’t that interesting? 

     There was more here. More in Ford’s life—more in this body, and Bill wanted it. Needed it.

     Curiosity burned deeper than it ever had before. There were pieces of Ford that laid scattered—fragments, parts tucked away in corners, just out of reach. Ford kept them hidden—the things he didn’t want to show, the parts of him Bill hadn’t yet touched. The dreams held whispers of it—in sweat-slick skin, lips pulling in pleasure, with eyes that asked for something more, but never admitted it. 

     But life had a way, Bill had come to find, of leaving traces—ruins that could paint a clearer picture of what had been left behind. So, while Ford slept, Bill was at the helm—he explored.

     Bill had been through the lab, through Ford’s desk, through every drawer and locked cabinet Ford thought he was so clever about. But Fidds’ space? That was new.

     He moved Ford’s body through the house, bare feet brushing the floorboards, his movements less restrained now that they were alone. The door to Fidds’ room was unlocked—of course it was. Why wouldn’t it be?

     Inside, the room smelled faintly of dust and old paper, layered with something warmer—wood, whiskey, a trace of engine grease. Lived-in but not homey, the way men like them tended to keep things.

     Bill rifled through the dresser first, forcing Ford’s hands to move through stacks of clothes, occasionally brushing against the odd pocketful of loose screws. The nightstand wasn’t much better—half-empty cups of water, a few folded notes. Bill unfolded one, skimming the contents. The handwriting wasn’t Fidds’—and there, along the bottom, were several faded pink lip prints. The paper was old, crinkled at the edges. Bill tossed it aside.

     He moved on, fingers brushing along the desk, scattering a few notebooks just to see what lay beneath. Schematics. Numbers. Diagrams, scrawled over loose pages. Boring. He shoved them aside and opened the top drawer.

     A battered deck of cards. Bill flicked open the top, letting the cards spill into Ford’s hand. The edges were soft from wear, but the stack was thinner than it should have been. Bill fanned them out, shuffling through them lazily: only 9s, 10s, and the lettered ones. Useless. He shoved the cards back in the box and tossed them aside. 

     He reached towards the back of the drawer and Ford’s fingers hit something cool, metal. A flask. Bill popped the lid open letting the sharp fragrance of whiskey waft over him. He took a swig, gagging lightly at the burn—then took another before closing it and setting it back where it was.

     What else, what else…a pack of gum with only two sticks left. Then—what was this? A switchblade. Bill flipped it open with a flick of Ford’s wrist, testing the blade against the pad of Ford’s thumb. The body barely reacted to the shallow press. The blade was dull anyway. Disappointing.

        Finally, his gaze fell on the closet.

     The door creaked softly as he pulled it open. Inside, a row of shirts hung unevenly, some pressed together, others spaced apart like they’d been tugged on in haste. A few pairs of shoes sat scattered along the floor—scuffed boots, well-worn sneakers, something that might’ve once been dress shoes but had seen better days. In the corner, a long, narrow case leaned against the wall—Fidds’ gun, no doubt. But Bill’s attention snagged on something else.

     His borrowed fingers brushed against a box on the top shelf, its edges softened with age, the cardboard slightly warped. VHS was written across the front.

     Bill grinned—he’d seen these before. He pulled it down and set it on the floor, pushing Ford’s hands into the it, sifting through the stacks. The labels were neat, written on sticky notes.

            Home Movies. Too sentimental—Pass.

        Horror. Not bad…Maybe?

     Honeymoon? The moon was many things, but honey wasn’t one of them—forget it.

        Then—his hand stilled.

     Near the bottom, another label. Half-peeled at the corner, curling slightly.

        Christmas.

     “’Tis the season,” Bill murmured, amused, peeling the sticky note away with deliberate slowness.

     His fingers drifted through the tapes, pushing them aside, skimming the titles.

        Then—one caught his attention.

     The cover was different. Not some home recording, not a garish holiday special. It was a real production, glossy, with dramatic lighting. A man stood on the front, his body taut, arms stretched at his sides in a precise pose. The title curled above him in elegant script:

        Baryshnikov: The Nutcracker.

     Bill tilted Ford’s head, intrigued.

     He didn’t know what this was. Not really. But there was something about the way the man stood—poised, perfect, his body a study in control—that caught Bill’s attention. The way the muscles in his legs and arms defined themselves beneath the very tight fabric. Deliberate. Precise. 

           Bill’s grin sharpened.

        “Well, well.” 

     He turned the tape over in Ford’s hands, running his fingers over the plastic case. The back was filled with little printed images—dancers mid-motion, bodies suspended in impossible shapes. A synopsis, a list of credits, none of which meant much to him. The words blurred, insignificant next to the pictures.

        But something about it pulled at him.

     A performance. A display. A human body moving with purpose and control, and discipline—more than mere flesh.

     This was control without restraint. Power without resistance. A body yielding, but not in weakness—in mastery.

           And that was what caught him.

        Because Ford’s body wasn’t like that.

     Ford’s body—that was rigid. All strict, efficient movements, measured steps. Tension locked in his shoulders, restraint wired into his muscles. He moved like a man who had spent his whole life making sure he never miscalculated, never overreached, never let himself falter—carrying his body as if something terrible might happen if he misstepped.

     Even in moments of surrender, even when Bill had pulled him apart and coaxed pleasure from every nerve, he never fully let go—there was always something held back, something clenched in his jaw, something braced in his spine.

     Even at his most undone, he was never fully free.

     He always talked about diligence. Discipline. He lived by it. But Bill had never seen Ford’s body express that control like this.

        No, this—This was something else entirely. 

           He wanted to see. 

     He padded down the hall and made his way into the living room. There, against the center of the wall, sat an old VHS player, nestled beneath the television—He’d watched Ford do this before—the routine, the ritual. He slid the tape out of the box, the reel uneven on either end, thicker on the right side.

     He crouched, shoving the tape into the slot. The machine whirred to life, clicking as the tape was swallowed into its depths. He turned the dial on the TV—just as he remembered seeing Ford do. 

        The tape whirred, and the picture steadied.

     Bill sat close to the screen, Ford’s body held still, knees drawn up, fingers curled loosely against his ankles. The blue glow flickers over his skin as the stage unfolded across the screen.

     Soft light bloomed, illuminating an expanse of painted backgrounds. He reached for the dial, twisting it carefully, and the sound that followed was a series of delicate notes, slow and reverent—A sound like wanting.

     Bill’s breath was even, but something inside wasn't. A tightness in the ribs, something thin and stretched—He didn’t know why.

     The stage is vast, glowing, its warmth bleeding into the dimness of the recording. And there—her. The woman in white. She made delicate gestures, so careful, so precise, it seems impossible that she is real. She extends a hand. And then—him. The man from the cover.

     He steps forward—moving like he is separate from the world entirely, like gravity is something that only concerns others. His hands are gentle but deliberate, and when he reaches for her, she moves into him with certainty.

     The music lifts. It presses against Ford’s skin, beneath his ribs. Expands into the spaces between—between breath and bone, between this room and somewhere further, vaster, something without walls. It fills them, pushes into them, restless and endless—A sound like knowing.

           She reaches for him.

        And he takes her hand.

     Not like a claim, but gently—A meeting, one movement. She lifts onto the very edges of her feet, and he pulls her forward, just enough, just barely.

           The strings ascend—

        And she rises.

     Weightless, unbound, as if the music itself is pulling her up. As if she is not of this place at all.

     Something inside Bill shifted with them. A pressure, an ache behind Ford’s sternum, a heat pooling somewhere deep in the spine. It is not a thought, not a word, but something else.

     She leans into him, drapes herself across his arms. A body surrendered, but not in defeat. He moves with purpose, and she with trust.

     The figures on the screen turned, caught in each other’s gravity—Wasn’t that what this was?

     A body moving, knowing it would be caught. Hands reaching, knowing they would be met.

     Bill had known that. Had felt that. Had let himself be lifted, weightless in another’s grasp, drawn forward by something beyond them—something that neither of them could name.

     The music changed—rising like a wave. It moved in time with them, or perhaps it was them moving to meet it. It filled the room with an energy he couldn’t quite place—it was bold and exhilarating, yes, but also held a kind of ache, a sort of sorrow—that stirred something in him.

     The music swells, again. It presses into him, filling the empty spaces, expanding in the hollows. He can feel Ford’s body responding before he understands why—the faintest tremor in his fingers, a pull at something in the breath, in the pulse—there. A longing, an anguish. Something vast and unspeakable, drawn up and wrung out of them, spilling across their surface. 

        She folds against his chest.

     And Ford’s hands—their hands—curl inward, pressing into their palms, holding onto something unseen.

     The way he moves her. The way his hands trace her, firm, assured, each motion deliberate. The way she gives herself to him, the way he bears it—it is a kind of triumph, but not of conquest.

     There was something about the way he looked at her—A quiet intensity, a reverence, something fragile, something cherished. The way his eyes burned—it was familiar.

     Bill could feel it. In the chest, in the throat. It ached. He knew that look. He knew that feeling.

           He’d seen it before.

        On Ford.

     On Ford, looking at him.

     It should be a claim, but it isn’t. It is something softer. She gives, and he takes only what she offers. He catches her, never demands. It is a meeting, not an expectation. And Bill knows this, too. Not in words. Not in sound. But in motion.

     He understood movement. The weight of a hand, the shift of muscle, the way touch speaks by tension’s release.

        And Ford’s touch—spoke to him.

     In the way he presses forward, the way he pulls. The way his grip falters, caught between wanting and restraint. How his fingers tremble when they hold too hard, how they soften—afraid to take too much.

     Even in surrender, even in pleasure, even in the moments where his breath is shaking, where his body gives itself over—there is always that hesitation. That measuring. That something.

     A flicker of memory—hands, tracing over him with curiosity. I need to understand, that touch said. Let me know you.

     There was a burst of strings, a note drawn long and low, delicate as thread. Bill startles—not outwardly, not in a way that the body betrays, but inwardly, somewhere deeper. The sound does not enter through their ears alone—what was it reaching?

     Bill couldn’t help it—they stood, eyes never leaving the figures. There was a tug inside them, a strange, frustrated pull. What was it? What made these movements seem so certain?

        He wasn’t made for this.

     And Ford, with his restraint, with his hesitation—

           But together—together, maybe.

        Their fingers twitch.

     The body follows.

     Testing the pull of their limbs, the space between the music and this body, the air between the motion and the understanding of it. He bends Ford’s legs, arms curling into an arc above their head, then slowly, steadily, a curve in the spine, dipping to the side.

     Bill lets the breath sit in their lungs, holds it there, feeling the shape of it, the weight. The music swells once more, fingers lower, barely grazing the air before settling. They move, through the dark—step of two.

[wesleysniperking]

A fic rec

Although this fic isn't entirely Usopp-centered. It is a fic where a chapter is centered entirely on him.

I enjoyed Usopp’s chapter and Luffy’s chapter the most because they made me get all choked up.

[lyricthecat-12]

Sharing some of my favorite Fairgame fanfics 🐦‍⬛🍀. #2:

[joverflowers]

Ultimate Jinmin Fic Recommendation pt 2

Neighbors/Roommates

efflorescent by minchimcheree

summary: Jimin gets an unexpected new neighbor.

silent speaking words by bucephalas

summary: Kim Seokjin lives alone. Worse still, he feels alone. There's nothing to be done for it. Until one day he finds a cat on his fire escape and meets Park Jimin - a man with the softest of voices and smiles and a laugh like bells.

recipe for success by prosperousends

summary: Jimin runs a potion shop; Seokjin runs a stand selling potion ingredients right across the street. Despite Jimin's best efforts, they find common ground.

Nevermind by eternal_octopus

summary: Wherein the most beautiful man Jimin's ever seen moves in next door, but it's too good to be true when he also turns out to be the lead singer of a rock band that practices at all hours of the night.

You Gave Me A Key (And Called It Home) by caecoethic

summary: The apartment isn't much, not really, and Seokjin thinks there could be better decor in the place; but it's all his. In time, he thinks it could be a home. (and then he gets a roommate.)

dis-ease by gardenjins

summary: roommate park jimin: I’m stopping at the supermarket after work today. anything you need?

me: medicine :(

roommate park jimin: that’s. really vague hyung. what kind of medicine?

the light will wait for us by moonbabie

summary: jimin is studying to be a fortune-teller, born to generations of fortune-tellers and mudangs before him, in an apartment building he's spent all his life in. seokjin is a new tenant, untethered and opaque. why is he so familiar?

press home to unlock by jnkkgay

summary: seokjin would very much like to know if it is normal for your roommate to suddenly set the backgrounds of all their electronic devices to photos of you.

Sports

ain't no mountain high enough by smashthatlikebutton

summary: Jimin looks over at the man with the nice lips and hips and broad expanse of back, standing at the bar without a care in the world. Snowboarding suits him, he thinks. “Cool, I’m going to seduce him.”

“You can’t just seduce Kim Seokjin, Hyung, he has a Wikipedia page!”

Under the Moon by idyllic_hummingbird

summary: They were the top two figure skaters in the nation. Heated rivals on the ice, but no one knew about what went on behind closed doors. Five years passed after Jin's retirement before Jimin heard from him again, inviting him to the beach where he now lived.

Kill V. Maim by newbensolo (orphan_account)

summary: Kim Seokjin is the star of the ring where Jimin used to shine.

Co-workers/Rivals

Paper Planes Through the Skyscraper's Window by Onion_Path

summary: When Kim Seokjin first stepped into the streets of Manhattan with his luggage full of hopes and dreams of building planes and watching them take off above the sky, he wasn’t expecting the said planes to be made of paper out of all things. Neither did he expect them to find a place to land in the apartment across the street; yet here he is now, trying to confess his feelings for his co-worker through weather forecasts and wind speed calculations.

Past the Perfect Pictures by seoulsunset

summary: While they both had the perfect chemistry in front of the flashing cameras, the fact remains that Jimin hated Seokjin, and Seokjin hated Jimin. The competition is tough and the hate game is really strong… or is it really just hate?

Because the last time they checked, you don’t get on your knees for the person you hate.

sweet hot jackpot (winning the office pool) by stickyrum

summary: Jimin commits the most heinous of office crimes against his department manager aka the man of his dreams, and his journey to redemption.

blank by formerlyunknownas

summary: The one where Jimin had too many tequila shots, blacked out, and ultimately slept with his boss (maybe literally, maybe not).

Unnecessary, not stupid. by newgs

summary: Kim Seokjin has been the best. Best chef, best looking, best employee.

Until.

Until Park Jimin, the new owner of the hotel, decides that Kim Seokjin isn't good enough.

Selfish Harmony by tiny_joon

summary: Jimin sighs. He’s not sure how to explain it without it sounding super weird. He dives in anyway, “Okay, so. Hyung and I are in a little bit of a competition to see who can pick up the most passengers at the bar on nights he works. He’s in the lead, obviously, but I’m not that far behind!”

“You are?”

“Well, he doesn’t know.”

you're such a star by kinskins

summary: If asked Seokjin, among of all the annoying things the cruel adult world can throw at you, is one wonderful Park Jimin, who makes the cruel adult world a bit better place to be.

we don't have to say it out loud by capucapu

summary: Seokjin is terribly chaotic, Jimin might be just a bit petty, and everyone else is just struggling to survive another workweek in this capitalist hellscape.

Kim Seokjin from Payroll by tender_tenderly

summary: “…Drama?” he asks. Seokjin only nods, resolute. “How would we cause drama?”

“It’s simple!” Seokjin says, taking Jimin’s hands and pulling him to his feet. He spins him around before tugging him in close until they’re eye-to-eye, chest to chest. Jimin feels his face heating up as Seokjin brushes his hand against the side of his face.

“Gorgeous, excessive, disgusting PDA."

Fluff/Humor

tell me about the seagulls, sam by ebenroot

summary: Park Jimin sets out to get his co-worker Jeon Jeongguk together with his boss, Vice President Kim Namjoon. Not because he's promised a big promotion if they get together, or because he wants Kim Seokjin to lick the bottom of his shoe, but because he is a Good Person (tm).

jack i'm flying! by ameliabedelias

summary:“Are they okay?” A concerned booze cruise attendant walks by. “They’re not gonna jump, are they?”

“Please, just ignore them,” Hoseok sighs, flopping into one of the deck lounge chairs as Seokjin and Jimin get into position. “They’ve been doing this for three years now. It's kind of their thing.”

you're the right time (at the right moment) by merryofsoul

summary: Five times Seokjin and Jimin's friends try to set them up, and one time Seokjin takes matters into his own hands.

(Feat. Jimin working harder than any of them for the same goal.)

sing it back to me by chahans

summary: Jimin is a part-time concert security guard and Jin is the scalper he's willing to make an exception for.

A Long Walk Off A Short Pier by exfatamorgana

summary: Jimin and Seokjin are panicking; their friends are assholes.

Jimin and Seokjin are panicking; their friends are over it.

Beaches and Summer by arysthaeniru

summary: Jimin has a billion videos of Jin doing stupid things on his phone.

Virtual World/ Androids

Limitations Of Virtual Experience by tullycat

Summary: ”So…” The man hesitates. “You know you normally live in virtual reality, yeah?”

Seokjin shrugs. “Of course. You know you breathe?”

Midnight snacks and mechanical dreams by closetfairy

summary: Cake vending machine android Jimin spends his life in a box. Seokjin orders a cake every week, and longs to show Jimin the world.

Pet shop/Animal Shelter/Hybrids

Enough Fish in the Sea for Two by MissCeeEmBee

summary: After quitting his high stress job in Seoul to become a fisherman in a small village, he hasn't caught a single thing. Not even a boot. Dispirited by his lack of success on the high seas, Seokjin almost misses the pitiful mewl coming from the docks. He investigates and finds a tiny, neglected calico cat who shies away from his touch. Gaining the cat's trust, Seokjin eventually takes him home and realizes that the cat isn't exactly who he seems.

Birdsong by sweetjimbles

summary: Jimin, a Lovebird hybrid, has the fattest crush on his best friend's roommate. Each morning in his bird form, he hides in the tree outside Jin's room and sings his little lungs out. It's a shame Jin thinks this bird is purposefully annoying him when he's trying to sleep.

My Tail 'Round Your Waist, Your Mane in My Face by sleepydrabbles

summary: Seokjin looks forward to all his evenings with Jimin, even when they're both a little grumpy.

A Purrfect Match by hope_and_hardship

summary: When Mr. Tall and Handsome came into the animal shelter in a Canali suit, Jimin was not impressed. But then the man did something unexpected. He sat down in his expensive wool suit on the concrete floor in front of the first cat cage and introduced himself to the cat.

Soulmates

Can't Let You Slip Away by edi-neil (sweet_trick)

Summary: Park Jimin thinks that he and his husband have the perfect relationship. They're going to adopt a baby, have great friends, and are grossly in love. The only thing missing is the bright red soulmate string to bind them together permanently.

when all the stars align by orphan_account

Summary: Seokjin doesn’t know what to do with a soulmate who doesn’t want him back.

Crashing into Destiny by Yumi44

summary: Seokjin is beyond ready to start over in a new town with a new job. Possibly even a whole new him. While he comes to Harmony Springs for a change of scenery and completely on a whim, his expectations are very low as this isn’t the first time he’s escaped, but his third. But destiny has other plans for him when a stranger comes crashing into his life, literally.

Show Me (I'll Show You) by mellzmallow

summary: Jimin is starting to get frustrated now. He is beyond confused and fucking hurt that his soulmate just turned his back on him after admitting to his love for the younger. “Why?” He yells at the elder. “Tell me why, hyung!”

“Because,” Seokjin raises his own voice, obviously irritated at Jimin’s persistence. “We’re soulmates, Jimin. I feel everything you feel. That’s why I know you can never love me as much as you love him.”

Fantasy/Magic Au

luck be my lover by wonsteapot

Summary: On a beautiful day, under a cloudless sky, Seokjin meets a pastry-wielding Park Jimin outside a bakery; a young man with bubblegum pink hair and the most beautiful smile in the world—the man who would steal his heart and change his luck in ways he could have never imagined.

Before he knows it, he's living his very own fairy tale. Literally.

The Universe Has Moved For Us by gardenjins

summary: Seokjin runs into someone who looks and acts just like that boy he fell in love with a few centuries ago. he doesn’t want to fall in love again, but it seems he can’t stop himself.

The Golden Rule of Love Curses by smiles

summary: An incomprehensive list of things Seokjin did not expect when he took a job at the library:

a talking seagull.

did he mention the talking seagull, because he feels like no one is properly panicking about a talking seagull?

oh, and also a wizard places him under a curse.

sorry, correction, a wizard places him under a spell. There is obviously a very significant difference, apologies Jimin. A spell is so much better than a curse.

the pearl in the pond by stickyrum

summary: His back sloped from the widest pair of shoulders Jimin had ever seen. Sand stuck to sections of his back and arms, a small river of sweat forming between the dip of his bowed spine. Jimin swallowed dryly. He had back dimples.

Of Spanish Roses & White Lilies by Always_Somewhere

summary: Once upon a time, a lonely rose fell in love with a handsome prince.

Like the Touch of Rain, He Was by portscutie

summary: If Seokjin could he'd live in a rainforest surrounded by the sweltering heat and soothingly fresh rain that always had the power to bring a smile to his face—

But then again, maybe being with Jimin was happiness enough.

hearts on fire by seokjininheaven

summary: Of all the things Jimin thought would happen once he started practicing magic, he never did think that lighting his mentor's hair on fire would be one of them. It wasn't his fault that Seokjin was the most handsome man Jimin had ever seen.

fae, love-laced by honeyslice (heavensring)

summary: Jimin is a house fairy assigned to Seokjin, human-extraodinaire—at making his job frustratingly difficult.

Hurt/Comfort

comfort blanket by wonsteapot

summary: When normality comes crashing down around him, Jimin turns to Seokjin for comfort.

two left by Saltyghostsuga

summary: Performance Artist Jimin finds himself as a teacher's assistant in Hoseok's Contemporary Dance class for Beginners (yike) as he recovers from an injury, working his way back to being on stage again. He learns just as much about dancing from his student, tech supply conglomerate executive with two left feet Kim Seokjin, as Jin does from him.

love fallen by celestialfail

summary: Jimin finds out the village's demon is really a fallen angel inflicted with a terrible sickness.

despite everything i love you by asteriafics (orphan_account)

summary: Jimin realizes he's in love with Seokjin and promptly goes through the five stages of grief.

A Certain Sense of Synergy by deepslowpanic

summary: They barely even dated, Jimin doesn’t feel like he can even call it a relationship. The breakup wasn’t even a breakup, just them moving seamlessly into being friends instead. And now, years later, things are easy and comfortable. But when the first of their friends get married, Jimin starts to see things, and Seokjin, in a new light.

not spring, love, or cherry blossoms by jinminrising (xiujaemin)

summary: On the spring of 1988, Jimin feels the giddiness of first love. But happiness isn’t all there is to falling in love, and Jimin realize that maybe the heartache isn’t all that worth it.

Coffee shop/ Bakery/ Flower shop/ Book shop

you make me bloom by orphan_account

summary: In their flower shop, sunflowers bloom only when Jimin is happy. For all the years he's lived with Seokjin, there's a new one in the bathtub every morning.

Love You A Latte by gardenjins

Summary: Kim Seokjin was not a coffee person.

Ninety percent milk was…well, it was still coffee. But it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Not when he found himself staring at a graceful swan every time he took another sip.

Wait, did he say cute barista?

cherry picking by untilitbreaks

summary: Jimin meets a beautiful man named Seokjin, and allows him and his charismatic coworkers to fit into his life and teach him the meaning of honesty, love, and self-acceptance in a battle against his anxiety.

Canon Verse

blooming starlight by anakhronism (orphan_account)

summary: With his arms around Seokjin's waist and Taehyung's words ringing in the back of his mind like alarm bells, Jimin realizes he and Seokjin might not be just friends.

The rarest pair by closetfairy

summary: The boys get curious about their fanfiction stats. Everyone laughs about their ship rankings, but Jimin can't get the thought of him and Jin being incompatible out of his head.

rivers connecting lines by ninemoons42

summary: Time is slipping through Jin's fingers, but fortunately Jimin has no plans of letting (him) go.

You're the Moon by hopelessandcynical

summary: seokjin manages to get some vacation time and surprises jimin at home after seeing his guilty video and then they proceed to be the cutest boyfriends for about 5k words. that's it, that's the story.

Satisfied by peridotfairy

summary: Jimin had always sought perfection and for a moment, he'd thought he'd found it in Kim Seokjin.

what sweet addiction this is, darling by stickyrum

summary: "You know, this would be so much easier if we could just say, 'going on a date," Seokjin murmured under his breath, threading Jimin's fingers with his and sliding their hands into the pocket of his coat.

Youth by taejinyo

summary: Jimin sees stars in Seokjin's eyes.

just let me love you by wonsteapot

summary: Jimin shifted in his seat, a steady heat flickering to life in his gut as the realization slowly dawned on him.

Seokjin was flirting with him.

ABO Verse

Wild Woods Calling by MmeIrene

summary: Seokjin wakes up in a world not his own, a world full of wolves and danger, where betas are prized beyond reckoning for their healing abilities and the local wolf packs would do anything - anything - to claim a beta for their own.

Lost by lovewaves (jinsan)

summary: Omega Seokjin is bestowed to Alpha Jimin who shows him that love is a kind of holiness.

The Fox Who Stole the Moon by MissCeeEmBee

summary: On his way to another futile matchmaking meeting, gumiho Prince Jimin is waylaid by a strange creature of fire and ash. To protect himself from deadly injuries, his transforms into a fox.

Disgraced Healer Seokjin comes across the poor creature and takes it back to his supposedly haunted hanok to recover. Jimin discovers that perhaps he was looking for his precious mate in all of the wrong places.

It's You by nunu_noodles

summary: Seokjin has turned 25 years old, which means his time is up.

No more grace period, no more time for romance.

These days, they can only wait so long for nature to take it's own course, ever since nature stopped working the way it should, and the worlds population started slowing down.

It's time for the tireless wheels of the government to turn and procure him a mate.

Selfish (for now) by monomoonluv (jooniebug_95)

summary: Natural Born Vampire Princes Seokjin and Jimin have been best friends almost their entire lives. But with Seokjin's impending engagement he realizes that maybe his feelings for Jimin were something else entirely.

Actor/Singer/Artist Au

Myself in the Sea by bangtanagan

summary: He’s a good actor. He’s not sure when he started using it like this, to hide from his friends too.

These days, Seokjin feels like a passenger in his own life.

Cake Waltz by gardenjins

summary: Jimin works for a catering company and bumps into handsome prince famous actor Seokjin at a ball fancy business event

the portrait by orphan_account, raplinehoes

summary: Seokjin is a bored rich man who seeks something, anything, to give his life a meaning, until he finds the perfect painting: a portrait made by one artist named Park Jimin.

this is my second date by misspamela

summary: In his defense, it wasn’t Seokjin’s fault he didn’t notice the near-apocalyptic storm raging outside or a small avalanche hitting the resort’s backup generator. How could he be expected to focus on something as trivial as the weather when the hottest guy he’d ever seen in his life was riding him like he was trying to kill him?

Fake/ Pretend Relationship

Fate in The Papers by yoonminnycupcake

summary: Seokjin and Jimin gets drunk married to each other.

down to deny by tullycat

summary: If Seokjin had to choose a friend to fake date, life or death, gun-held-to-his-head decision, Jimin would be at the top. Jimin is cute, Seokjin is cute, they're both comfortable with physical affection, especially with each other. How hard could it be?

High School/College/University

Sweet Smiles (are Natural Disasters) by VenusBiTrap (ShineyT)

summary: Seokjin can see his friend is really uncomfortable with a stranger's flirty advances, so he interrupts and introduces himself and gets a date.

we were written in the stars by stickyrum

summary: In the now empty clubroom, he reached up and caught the kiss before it could fly away to some other hopeless idiot with a crush and made his way back to his little desk, face aflame. Seokjin read his horoscopes. Kim Seokjin, senior president, business and food industry major, read Jimin's horoscopes.

A Comfort-Colored Thing by exfatamorgana

summary: Bedtime stories are for babies.

It's not tough, I just miss you by onlypreciousloves

summary: It’s Valentine's Day, their first anniversary as a couple. Yet there’s thousands of miles between them and Jimin feels guilty that he’s lonely. A long distance relationship is so much more difficult than Jimin had imagined.

break a leg by ultjinmin

summary: Jimin just wanted to practice in peace. He hadn't meant to meet Kim Seokjin, or agree to be the choreographer for his upcoming show.

But now all Jimin wants to do is impress Seokjin. Just once.

you tread a fine line by wonsteapot

summary: Jimin has never understood the hype around Kim Seokjin. He'd rather live a life where he didn't have to come into close proximity with the other man.

Unfortunately, fate has other plans for them.

Holiday Wish List by xiujaemin

summary: There’s a fine line between taking risks and being stupid. Jimin seems to be treading somewhere in between. If anybody asks though, he'd probably say it's Taehyung's fault.

Red Cheeks by orphan_account

summary: “Yah!” Seokjin lifted his arms protectively as Jimin raised the textbook again, his cheeks a furious red, “You said to be honest with you! Why are you hitting me?”

치맥 (Hello, Delivery Boy) by TrappingLightningBugs

summary: If you ask Jimin now, he would tell you love smells like fried chicken and looks like a very drunk university student.

If you asked him before, he would call those the recipe for a very annoying Friday night.

smooth sea never made a skilled sailor by stickyrum (Restricted)

summary: A lash of pain split open across his calf. He jerked away instinctively, limping out of the water and kneeling down on the sand, his leg stinging fiercely. A welt had formed a loose ring just above his ankle. He glanced up in time to see a pale, gelatinous blob sink beneath the waves again, its tentacles causing the water to writhe like a pool of sea serpents. A jellyfish.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Jimin cursed under his breath.

i think about you all the time by seokjininheaven

summary: When Seokjin asks Jimin if he'd like to be friends with benefits again, Jimin's answer is the last thing he expects.

But it just might be the push he needed to realize some things

[mothpsycho]

trying to find One Piece fanfictions but the ones I'm finding are questionable so can someone please recommend some? would prefer luffy-centric but really as long as its good/fun/entertaining. feel free to share your own fanfictions too! PLEASE i will leave kudos and everything i am starving

[peachy-artist]

I DONT READ A LOT OF FANFIC, SO IF ANYONE WRITES ANY GOOD PAVRIN ONES YOURE OBLIGATED TO TAG ME (please)

[justhellacesome]

HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHA THE LATEST CHAPTER GOT ME ROLLING CUZ AS WE ENTER THE MARINEFORD ARC KUINA LITERALLY JUST BIT MIHAWKS TIT AS SELF DEFENSE AND I CNAT STOP LAUGHING HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA

[mariathechosen1]

^^^^^^^^ THIS!!!

I’ve talking about this for so long!

Being a part of one minority does not shield you from harming another. I recognize that this post is about original fiction, but god this is genuinely a really huge problem in fandom:

A lot of you will marvel at queer representation….so long as it’s between two conventionally attractive white dudes.

In fandom, female characters are usually fit into several ‘acceptable’ categories. Either they’re shipped with another female character and become the lesbian couple of ‘sense’ that tell the main mlm couple to “get their shit together and just kiss already”, or all of their flaws and complexities are erased and they’re turned into the ‘girlboss’, a plot device at most. Female characters are almost always ‘the reasonable ones’, while the guys get to have actual personalities.

Or even worse, if a female character displays any flaws too difficult to just erase, they’re turned into the ‘bitch’. This is any female character who’s forced into the antagonist role in order to further the plot. She’s the one who tries to sabotage the main couple, or just someone who’s overly mean towards a ‘poor misunderstood’ male character. Female characters of color especially get pushed into this category, even if they’re the very opposite of this in canon.

What really ties these categories together is that the female characters are all turned into accessories. Either they’re emotional support, plot devices or just pure antagonists, they almost never have goals of their own.

Basically every fandoms I’ve interacted with force their female characters into these roles in one way or another, and it’s honestly real fucking disappointing.

“My story has so much gay rep in it!” Awesome. How are you treating your female characters btw

[novemberhope]

cross guild anon here have you written anything new or do you have cg fic recs, can be smutty or reader insert, doesn't matter?

I haven't written anything in a while, unfortunately. I was planning on getting a few ideas done but headaches have been bad lately, along with other unpleasant stuff.

Fic recs for Cross Guild, you mean? I haven't read any long fic in a while now, but I've bookmarked some on AO3. Haven't read them yet though. If you're looking for smut (and are old enough to be looking for smut) you might want to check out The Numbers Game. I'd advise to check the tags though as the content might not be for everyone. Haven't finished it myself yet and it's a reader insert fic, but the reader got backstory and it's interesting to see the dynamics between the characters involved change over time. And honestly, life's hard, so sometimes we all just need to shamelessly induldge in good smut or just good stories with our favorite nonexistent people. :) Otherwise, I suggest you just type in the character's name and x reader in the tags and there comes up quite a bit of good stuff, depending on what you are looking for. And then enjoy yourself. There are so many good writers out there. If you find something you enjoy, please tell me where to find it, I want to check it out as well.

[h0wlderek]

Read it here.

[canofgarbage]

NEW CHAPTER!!

Chapter one of Fair Winds (One Piece Fan Fic) has been posted on Wattpad with over 10k words! Chapters will continue to vary in length but so far they're all over 4000 words! We see more of Midori and her relationship within Buggy's crew and she also meets the rest of the straw hats!

[silkentine]

Can you tell me a bit more about how you think the genders would change the story in the OP world

Hi! THANK YOU sooooo much for your question! When I do genderbending, I love to keep almost all things about a character the same except for what might change based on how other people would treat them regarding their gender (in both positive and negative ways). So for example, my fem!Usopp is more concerned with her physical appearance (building jewelry and wearing colorful fabrics) because she was raised mostly by herself after her Mom, Yassop, left and her Dad, Banchina, died and learned at an early age that girls get listened to when they look more pulled together, something that likely didn’t affect male Usopp since boys are allowed to be a bit more rough and tumble. Masc!Robin, on the other hand, had an easier time living on the run but he struggled to develop advanced social skills and is therefore a bit more standoffish and shy than canon!Robin (this is why he wears gloves when we first meet him in Girl Piece). I have more in-depth ideas about how fem!Zoro and fem!Sanji’s backstories/timeskip might change (because gender roles and expectations play a large part) but it’ll take me some time (and space) to fully write them down teehee. When I publish my fem!Zoro design, expect there to be basically an entire fanfic in the caption LOL

Admittedly, a lot of my design choices are aesthetic ones since I am primarily a visual artist so I have a lot to say about what the characters wear and how they perceive themselves. If you’re interested in how their behaviors and the story itself might change, I (once again and forever will continue to) recommend ~Well Hello Ladies~ by @kooabreen on AO3. Her work affects mine often and vice versa. She can take one of my half-formed ideas and run with it, turning a tiny little detail (that’s maybe 10 pixels wide in my art) into a beautiful chapter about sisterhood.

As further thanks for your question, I drew Shanks and Luffy! All Hail Girl Piece!!!

[cosmicgendershifter]

More Completed Gentlebeard Fanfic I Recommend

This continues from my previous fic rec post, but since it was getting super long, I am starting a new one, haha. 🌈🏴‍☠️

Without 🔞 Content

"I'm Used to Death" (T, ~119,400 words) by @dimplyowl (same writer as "The Curse of Blackbeard's Sword" and "Invisible String") and @thatmothra (same writer as "Salt, Sweet") is a beautiful and heartwrenching Hunger Games AU that does a more brilliant job at combining that dystopian novel with OFMD than I had thought possible! There's some notable Mary/Evelyn too as a bonus. Don't forget the sequel, too: "But Not Your Death" (T, ~108,700 words).

"#OldManCrush" by @petrichorca and @veeagainsttheday (T, ~13,000 words) is a short but vibrant modern AU full of delicious mutual pining where Stede writes an op-ed about his later-in-life crush that goes viral and sends his best friend Ed, the co-owner at their new shared newspaper, into a spiral.

"there's always an escape" (T, ~4,400 words) by @ghostalservice (the same writer as "mighty real" and more) and @mahnaah is a delightfully silly modern AU meet-cute where Stede solves a hidden bonus puzzle in the pirate-themed escape room that Ed created.

"Smile for the Camera" by @piratecaptainscaptainpirates (T, ~3,900 words) is a fun modern AU meet-cute, centered around a clothes-swapping scene and featuring some emotional hurt-comfort, that has Ed as a struggling trans autistic rockstar who appears on Stede's local news show after firing Izzy as his manager. I also recommend "Ed's Feel-Good Recipe Blog" by this writer (T, ~3,400, words), a fun and sweet little multimedia modern AU about Ed as a burnt-out trans celebrity chef meeting Stede through the comments on his side project recipe blog.

"blue canary in the outlet" by @ladohstry (T, ~3,400 words) is a very soft, sweet modern AU oneshot where Ed and Stede share a bed--and then a first kiss--after a night on the club with their friends.

With 🔞 Content

"My Soul Remains With You" by @bonnetpetit (same writer as "Fox Fires", E, ~130,400 words) is a gorgeous, smutty modern fantasy AU with big season two vibes, in which Ed is the lonely cursed forest creature haunting Bonnet Industries' latest development project, and Stede decides to leave his old life to stay with him.

"Rinse and Repeat" by @theyellowestmustard (same writer as "Swedish Cult Bullshit" and "Magpie", E, ~106,300 words) is a lovely, sensual modern AU in which touch-starved Ed seeks out Stede the hairdresser to do a fancy funeral braid for him and then gets a little bit addicted. "Somnophobia (and Other Eleven-Letter Words" is another great one by this writer (E, ~10,500 words), a heartfelt season two missing scenes fic featuring Ed not wanting to risk falling asleep, Stede comforting him, and hand-holding during sex. 💜

"The Broken Lines" by @clairegregoryau (cowriter of "'Til We See the Sunlight," M, 82,200 words) is a poignant, fantastical WWI AU where comm officer Stede struggles to regain his memories and find his lost love after the trauma of the war, even as he communicates across time with canon Ed.

"Star Waka" by @piratecaptainscaptainpirates again (M, ~55,800 words) brought me to tears with its sci-fi AU depiction of severe depression, with trans Jewish-Maori Ed being assigned to train Stede as a starship captain for a very shitty company, just after Ed survives a suicide attempt.

"But the Dream is Strong" by @babykittenteach (E, ~31,400 words) is a fascinating omegaverse AU, with big genderqueer and kink energy, where Ed realizes he wants Stede to ~ravish~ him so Ed can turn from an alpha to an omega.

"soft like silk chiffon" by @impossiblebird (same writer as "Andante, Andante, E, ~12,400 words) is a post-canon fic that thoughtfully explores Ed's enjoyment of being submissive to Stede's soft domming, with some lovely bondage and lingerie included.

"Men on Fire" by @petrichorca and @mahnaah again (M, ~9,900 words) is a fun and sweet short modern AU where Ed is a pornstar whom Stede interviews for his video series about the queer community, with instant chemistry happening between the two of them.

"twenty years and twelve hours" (same writer as "blue like cut sapphires" and more, E, ~9,500 words) is a delightful modern AU in which Ed and Stede are each other's very awkward (but still good) first time at college, and then they get to reconnect twenty years later! Another throwback fave from this writer is "Unparalleled" (E, ~20,300 words), a post-season one reunion fic full of intense emotion and sexy angst, with the soft dom Stede/sub Ed intimate dynamic that I love most for them.